a winner

The winner of Monday's totes....

jandjhome said...

Count me in.

tin can treats

A while back I shared how my girls (and clothing) were in a photo shoot for tin can treats. The photographer Tech Petaja has put a bunch of the photos on his blog and I am blown away! Go check out the rest of the pictures and all of Tech's beautiful photography. Makes me want to get married again...to the same man of course.

Lucky for me tin can treats is available for weddings, parties and events. Melodie at tin can treats knows how to do a vintage party better than anyone.

tuesday's giveaway

I am having so much fun putting together these giveaways. Today I am giving away this long necklace and two bracelets. I love to wear fun jewelry and have lots of my favorite colors to choose from but I find myself grabbing my wood jewelry most often.

Leave a comment to win. Let me know if you blog, FB or tweet about it for extra chances.

Even if you don't win....this week when you buy one bangle we will send you a second for free. Just enter code Tuesday at checkout.

monday's giveaway

Please leave a comment for a chance to win one of these wool totes. If you are a blogger and share about the giveaway you will get 10 chances to win. We will pick Monday's winner tomorrow night.

Lots of fun giveaways all week long!

Even if you don't win our totes will be 25% off for the whole week.

home

My 15 year old daughter loves to read and write. She rarely lets us read her work but today she needed my to print something out so I couldn't help but read it....

This photo of our home was taken by Bjorn Wallander for Country Living.

The Place I Call Home

by Charlotte Hughes

The house on Estes street hides behind the unruly bushes. The broad black drive slides up to the large garage that still has a strobe light that goes off when the doors slam. Up the stairs past the wall of letters you reach the small yellow room that connects the two parts of the house. It is not in the middle of the house, that’s the front hall, but it is too pretentious so we come in the back. The front hall is for running through when you realize you’ve forgotten something. It is for rolling up the rug and sliding across in your socks. It is for walking past the living room, the one no one really lives in until Christmastime. Past the front hall is my favorite hall, the hall with the magic window and tall shelves full of old leather books from centuries past. It leads to the bedrooms, all but one and a half of them. Each bedroom is different. My parents’ bedroom is cream with a massive wooden bed that is always warm and soft, no matter what. My sisters’ room is pink, crammed full of blue sleigh beds and scattered with clothes. Sophie’s room is snowy white and immaculate: the sharp edges softened with fluffy comforters and small sheepskin rugs. Underneath the house there are more rooms and more hallways. There is a soft cream room with a house and a secret garden to play in, and a hard grey room with washing machines and a projector. It is where we watch car chases and bank heists and love stories and battles. Hidden in the corner of this room, behind old garage doors is a bed. It is a half room, just a bed and a closet. This is where my brother stays when he is home from school. On the other side of the house, on the other side of the yellow room is the kitchen. It is a big room, it has to be. It is where we spend our time: where we bake cookies for school and make bread for lunches, where we eat spaghetti and hamburgers and sit and read by the fire. We eat around its round wooden table and curl up in its massive white couch: a couch where there is no uncomfortable way to sit. Right off of that room, the room we truly live in, is my room. My room is a deep blue sea, changing colors with the light, anchored by the rust red couch and soft white island where I sleep. It is an unfinished room for sure, but no room is ever truly finished. The empty expanses of wall are places to plan and dream and think about, places that are not truly empty, just waiting. It is where I go to escape the loud noises of my younger siblings and think for myself. It is where I go to escape in dreams so realistic I wonder if they actually happened. In my room I can be my own person and think my own thoughts. But it is only one room in many. The hallways sprawl to other rooms with pianos and coloring tables and shell cabinets and guitars. Rooms that I do not visit except on occasion, rooms that are pushed from my mind because even it cannot keep up with the daily changing attitude of my house.

hand me downs

At the age of 10 our family moved from Miami to Long Island. I loved it. Even now as much as I love Nashville and don't want to move, when I find myself up North I feel at home.

Growing up a girl named Cornelia Guest would give me some of her hand me down clothes because she was a couple years older than I was. I can still remember a camel cashmere sweater that I loved.

Well zoom ahead 35 years and Cornelia is selling her home.

The home, Templeton, that also belonged to her mother C.Z. Guest.
I am not too old for hand-me-downs.
I totally understand if she doesn't want to give me the whole house.
I would be happy with some of the lettuce leaf porcelain.
All of the photos are from Habitually Chic. All or most were taken by Douglas Friedman for Harper's Bazaar.

holiday list

I was inspired by Eddie's magazine shoot setups. Here is my own "desk" set up that we sent to our email list. How cute is that picture of my sister (she is now a grown up with 8 children).