Perspective, again.

I have been playing. I admit it.
I brought my Wolf Pup home.  For those of you who don't weave, it's a small portable, floor loom.
I am making handbags: funky, colorful ones.
Now there's a surprise, right?


It's that or watch baseball.
Occasionally, the Olympics are part of our viewing pleasure, but I can see them from my loom.

What I'm really doing is having a good time.  Playing with color, and texture, and using up bits and pieces of stuff.

I have finished the baby blankets, more pictures tomorrow.

As long as I had the fan on me, it was comfortable weaving.  The sun seemed to light up the floor.

I always feel comfortable in this old house.   It's like an old friend.

I hope to grow old/older here.

But then I have always been one to choose used over new, shabby over shiny, old and antique over right out of the box.

When I was younger, I used to be quick to 'refinish' things, make them look like brand, spanking new.
In fact, I was so into it, that I started a business in my 20's, to take old paint off furniture.  It was called "The Strip Joint".  I've told you that, right?
I stripped furniture, refinished it, caned chair seats, replaced rush seats and flat woven seats.

Ha.
I've changed.

This speaks to me.  Volumes.
I think there is a lesson to learn here.
When you age, you realize  the incredible rewards of 'having been there'.  And you wouldn't want to erase all signs of that, now would you?
Would you?

It's the reason why I didn't  attempt to make my old house look fashionably new.
I wanted it to keep its personality, I wanted to "treasure" and respect  its past.

So while the house has been refurbished, and cared for, it looks very much ( I hope) like it did 100, even 200, years ago.

 Except that the bathroom would have been outside.

Well, hey, you have to draw the line somewhere.