Oh hey there. Remember when I used to post here? Yeah. Me too.

So far this month I have been cleaning and “nesting” like a champ in preparation for Jason to move in in three weeks(!). We will have been long distance for almost three years at that point. We are both so ready for it to be over. He’s started moving some of his things here already and it’s just so nice to see it around every day (even if it is weird stuff like his bowling pin lamp). I can’t believe I’ll be celebrating three years together with this man in July. I’m a lucky woman, let me tell you.

In gardening news, our daffodils and forsythia finally bloomed! Our yard is a yellow party right now. I love it. I cut some of each and brought them in on a vase for the kitchen table, and it cheers me up every time I see it.

So that’s what I’ve had of an April so far. I want to start taking more photos, cooking more food, baking more recipes, hanging more art, and appreciating more of the small things again. And I want to start sharing it here again. I’m going to try. Really I am. I have so much good in my life right now.

I’m not sure what started this but suddenly today I am finding myself obsessed with vintage floral sheets. Perhaps it’s the onset of spring (and then the snow, hail, and freezing temps we’ve been having this week again…thanks Pittsburgh!), or the cleaning of the house, or the end of another school semester, or the fact that when I showed people the video project I did around my house they said it looked “like a grandma’s house” and I said “thank you”…whatever it is, I’m in love. We’ll be in the suburbs for a bit tomorrow morning…I think we’ll have to hit up our favorite thrift store to see if we find any for ourselves! For now, here’s a pinboard of eye candy.

Vintage Sheets, by Kelsey Lynn on Pinterest

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Why are grandmas’ houses always so perfect? Why do they feel the most homey, the most welcoming, the most comforting, the most safe? It’s something I’ve been pondering lately as I’ve been digitizing hundreds of old family photos for a project for a very special lady (my own Grandma!), and seeing all of the “family houses” (there were three of them, all on the same street, that I spent basically my entire childhood in) from an adult perspective and for the first time in probably seven years. These were houses that, from my childlike memories, were limitless, vast places full of exciting nooks and crannies to explore, and the most perfect houses one could imagine — but seeing them with fresh eyes, they are far from large or conventionally perfect. The rooms were tiny, the hallways narrow, the ceilings low, the furniture mismatched, the cabinets crowded, the decor a hodgepodge rainbow of antiques and heirlooms and handmade pieces. And did I mention tiny? I can’t even tell you the number of times 8 or more of us crammed around Grandma’s 4-person kitchen table in her 8′x10′ kitchen to eat lunchmeat and tomato sandwiches off of paper plates in the summer, or how many extra chairs had to be pulled into the living room (which already had furniture for at least 7 people) at Christmas, or how darn small the counters were in that kitchen — no wonder she did almost all of her food prep on the kitchen table!, or how at my great aunt’s house not all of us would even be able to fit at the dining room table…but every memory of these homes is perfect.

And I realized: These houses are so perfect to me because of how much love was put into them. It’s not the size, or how nice the stuff is, or how much “sense” the storage solutions make (my grandma kept all her jewelry in a drawer in the china cabinet in the dining room!) or how modern and updated everything is, that counts…it’s how much love, how much family, how much history it’s filled with that truly makes it “home”. It’s about making do with what you have. It’s about filling every nook and cranny with history, with meaning. Instead of looking at everything with a critical eye (“that’s too small”, “that outlet is weirdly placed”, and so on), look at it all and think, “This is home.”

And so this is my new perspective as Jason and I continue to create our home. I’m putting away the polished decor blogs for a little while, because they just give me sensory overload. Instead for inspiration I’ve been subscribing to more and more personal blogs, and I’m drawing on the recently strengthened memories of my grandma’s and great aunt and uncles’ homes to give me direction. Because that is truly the kind of home I strive for — handmade, rich with history, and a kitchen that’s always open.

(P.S. — I skipped a week in my 365 because I just decided to give up, but now I really want to continue…so forgive me for skipping those days, but I’ve decided to pick up where I left off.)

Last weekend I was at my dad’s house and I happened to find this recipe binder of my mom’s. I am so utterly fascinated by it. There are hundreds of recipes in here, many of them handwritten, for everything from dips to pies to casseroles to pastas to quiches to soups to cakes to cookies to drinks…

Looking through it brings about a bittersweet feeling, though. I see these recipes and I wonder to myself, Would she have cooked this recipe for us for dinner one night? Would this one have become a “staple” in her repertoire for our family? Would I have begged her to make that one for me when I was six years old and skinned my knees playing outside and wanted to eat something comforting? Would we have taste tested this one and all laughed about how bad it was? Would I be calling her tomorrow night asking her for this one?

My memories of weeknight family dinners leave something to be desired. We would go out — me, my dad, Grandma, Aunt Mary, and Uncle Frank — to one of two local restaurants, alternating nights, every single weeknight, at 4:30 PM on the dot, for as many years of my life as I can remember. And I mean that very literally. We knew all the waitresses on a first name basis, and some of them still work at one of those restaurants, and still know me and chat with me on the rare occasion I go there anymore. And while I do love those many memories with the five of us, I am so deeply envious of everyone who grew up with homemade family dinners each night. And looking in this recipe binder is like a window into what my life might have been like had things turned out differently.

Food, to me, is the crux of a family unit. Shared meals are indispensable, as are trademark recipes. Dinnertime is the first time during the day that everyone is home at the same time and in the same place doing the same thing. Every family has that little repertoire of recipes that they eat often and love. Food is so personal — you know that when you go to your mother in law’s house, she might have made pasta salad and lasagna. When you go to your best friend’s mom’s house, she might have made tuna nuney and steamed vegetables, probably broccoli. When you go to your grandma’s house for a big family dinner every Sunday she might have made “kitchen cacciatore”, and there will probably be crescent rolls. I love that most of the recipe cards in this binder have “From the kitchen of __________” written on them. Recipes are passed on for generations within a family, or passed amongst girlfriends at a bridal shower, or asked for after dinner at a cousin’s house. I love the stories behind them, and thinking of their origins as I prepare and eat and share them.

And with my own little family — me and Jason — taking shape, I want to put an emphasis on dinners shared together. I want to give myself the chance to experience that homemade family dinner every night that I never got to experience growing up, and there’s no one in the world I’d rather share that with than him.

So I’m going to cook my way through this binder, weeding out the recipes I don’t want to try (like “Cheese ‘N’ Comfort”, which is a dip [I think? It doesn't really say] with three different kinds of cheeses plus Southern Comfort…um, no thanks), and adding in my own recipes as I go along. I’m going to buy a set of recipe cards and copy down recipes from magazines, websites, the backs of boxes, friends, family, and wherever (because to me, there’s nothing better than a handwritten recipe). I’ll share all these meals with Jason, and hope that by the end of it, we have our own little family recipe repertoire built up. And of course I will share it all right here for everyone to join in.

I just spent the past 3 1/2 hours searching high and low for an area rug. I finally just said, screw it, and went ahead and made a mood board without one.

So here’s the new mood board. My two requirements were that my grandma’s retro orange lamp fit in (I will have to post proper pictures of that lamp for you to see, but the one in the mood board is a pretty accurate representation), and that I could hang my great aunt’s lace curtains. After that the rest just sort of came together. Minus the area rug.

I wanted something colorful and vintage-y without feeling too uncoordinated or girly (Jason does have to live here too, after all). And I wanted it to be comfortable and cozy, someplace we could hang out and watch Cosby, eat pizza and play Scrabble, or have some wine with friends. On the other hand I wanted it to be somewhere calm, where I can have a cup of tea and sit by the window and read or crochet. I also wanted the “base” to be neutral so that I could switch up accessories and put whatever I want in the room without stressing over whether it will “go”.

We don’t own any of the actual pieces in that board, but I tried to do an accurate representation of what we do have, because we don’t have the budget right now to buy a whole lot of new pieces. The biggest splurge items will be slipcovers for the couch and recliner (they’re navy blue now, we want them to be a lighter neutral like in the board), and that damn area rug.

Here’s where you guys come in. What kind of area rug would you suggest? Colored? Neutral? Patterned? Solid? Flat-woven? Piled? Shag? We’re totally at a loss. Our budget is under $150 after tax/shipping, and we need an 8′x10′ or thereabouts. Help!!