My Stuff is Special to Me

Does anyone love Home Goods like I do? We don't have one in our rural area, but when I go to the city, I have to go in there. I try not to go. I can't help myself. I love the dishes and the lovely vases and glass pieces as well as all the gadgets and “put-abouts.” I am also a fool for kitchen items even though I don't cook so much anymore. 

I never go in one of their stores that I don't find something that speaks to me. Last week it was a white ceramic owl! I don't know why. I'm sure there was a reason and I'll understand it later. 

Don't you love those eyes?

There is no more space for stuff in my house. With all the books and magazines piled around, my place is somewhat cluttered.

I go into a friend’s house with only a few well-chosen pieces on her surfaces and the room appeals to me. It is clean and bare, and I like it. So why do I cover every spare inch of space in my living room, my bedroom and my office with stuff? 

Things are not important in my life. I am not and have never been a materialistic person. But at Home Goods, I turn into someone else. I get the idea that I can toss out all the old stuff in my house that I've kept for 45 years! But when I come home, I realize that I only have things in my house that have a special meaning to me. 

I have horses in all my rooms. I have framed photos of my family in every room. I have my husband’s cowboy hats on a rack in the hall. A large print of hunting dogs hangs on my wall. I would never have bought that for myself although it is by David Lanier, a well-known nature artist. It is not the kind of picture people hang in their living rooms, but in a den where men smoke cigars. 

For five years I worked for a good friend, part time, in her office where she was one of the first women to become a district manager for State Farm Insurance. About fifteen men - agents - answered to her. All those years the agents called the office to complain, to let out their frustrations, and most of the time my boss was not in. I listened to them and I empathized with them. 

To my surprise, when I resigned because we were moving to the mountains, those agents presented me with the large painting, framed with a small brass plate with an inscription to me. I admit it. I was moved to tears. It was to show their appreciation of me. I didn't feel that I had done anything special for them.

That is why I can't throw out things even though I've had them for many, many years. What I have on my walls and on my tables are not as gleaming or startling as what I see at Home Goods. But my stuff is special to me and I enjoy it, especially when it is made by the hands of someone I love like the sculpture by Gay Moring, my sister, the photographs taken by my husband, Barry Beall.

Barry called him "Billy Bob"

My house is probably a decorator’s nightmare, but my niece once told me that she always felt comfortable in my house no matter where I lived. She said my house is warm and it represents me and what I like.

So I guess I’ll never have one of those spare clean rooms that I admire so much. I will have to stay out of Home Goods unless I am buying for someone else. I’ll try to think about Christmas presents next time I go. Hope they don't have any more owls. 

What about you? Do you have space on your tables or do you keep collecting things you like?