The Bag Lady

They say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.

So here goes...

Hi, my name is Maureen and I have a handbag addiction. 

It started when I was pretty young, and I've never been able to shake the habit. 

Clearance sales lured me in. Birthday presents arrived. Department stores wooed me with their wares.

I have to also admit though....I'm perfectly happy with this terrible addiction I face. 

Linking up today with Gussy Sews to share my favorite accessories...

The Purse

and

The Totebag

These are mine...

My beautiful rustic red purse has been in my closet for years and years and years. I adore the color and the detailing. Sadly, it was retired into the Purse Hall of Fame last year...the handles are worn through. 

This snazzy little Vera Wang number was a Christmas present from my parents. It's my Going Out purse.

You know...for when I go out to fancy dinners with my handsome hubs minus the diaper bag.

Yeah, this one's in excellent shape...no wear and tear here. 

Oh Dana Buchman how I love thee! You had me at metallic gold and zebra print. 

Also a Christmas present from my parents...would this be considered enabling??

My current bag. By current, I mean that I have been carrying it for more than 48 hours straight. 

We're going steady now. 

Have I mentioned my new found love for mustard yellow?

You can see more of my current obsession with this color here.

Ahh, yes. The diaper bag. We have three.

This is really Blake's bag, though I'm not sure he appreciates the polka-dots as much as I do. 

But it's a necessity for church nursery and Grandma & Papa's house days. 

I also have a love for the clutch. 

You can read about the time my favorite one was stolen here. 

After that episode, I replaced the little beauty with this green one.

And I have to say...
we get along rather nicely**

Poetry and Hums

I started taking piano lessons when I was 6 years old, and I've been playing ever since. There were occasional bumps in the road....like the time when I was 9 or 10 and I wrote my mom a letter telling her I wanted to quit; or when I wouldn't practice my scales or warm-up exercises and would fumble my way through my lesson pretending like I knew what I was doing. 

There were times that I would hide a certain piano book in the way back part of the shelf, and then claim I couldn't find it when it came time for lessons....just so that I wouldn't have to play that one song. 

But mostly, from the get-go...I loved music, and I still do. 

When I hear certain songs, no matter how much time has passed, I'm taken back to a specific place, doing a specific thing, surrounded by specific people.  Most are times that hold deep feeling- joy, sadness, hurt, excitement- and the music is filed away in my mind just as clearly as the memories.

Sometimes music was the release of all that deepness.  I'd find myself sitting down in front of those keys and pounding out Beethoven's 5th Symphony as hard and loud as I could. Other times I'd sit down and play some popular love song thinking things would turn out just like in the movies. And there were times I'd play the saddest, most pitiful sounding song just so that I could wallow in the misery of a broken heart.

Music is the voice of the soul...

so now I teach. Three nights a week I'm either driving around town to teach in different homes, or teaching from mine. I remember as a kid wanting to be really good. And I see that same passion in my students...the accomplishment they feel when they've passed a song or filled a sticker chart. The relief in some when I say "Yes!! That's what I wanted to hear!", and they learn, and grow, and advance. It makes me so proud**

I hope someday that Blake will want to learn....right now the piano is just a cool, loud toy to him. But even if it's not piano, I hope that he finds the same love of music that I've found <3

Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. 

And all you can do is to go where they can find you. 

 ~Winnie the Pooh~

Buttons

For as long as I can remember I have been collecting buttons. As a little girl I would pick out buttons from my Grandma Dot's stash when my family was down to Ohio for a visit. I would lie on the bed next to a big pile of buttons inspecting each one over and over- and making sure my little sister didn't pick the ones I wanted! They were all so pretty- some itty bitty and some really big- but I loved them all, and I still do.

source: oliverands.com

What I really love though are the old ones. The vintage ones that still have old thread attached and wear around the edges. They tell a story of days gone by that intrigues me! Where have those buttons been? Who wore them? What did they see along the way? I treasure them because they remind me of a simpler and slower time of life. A time when people knew their neighbors and baked yummy apple pies from scratch. 

Vintage buttons remind me of my great-grandma and her flowered aprons, warm sugar cookies, and antique furniture. 

source: countryliving.com

Nowadays you can find me digging through my button collection trying to find the perfect one to pretty up a handmade headband or ruffle flower pin...and those same buttons inspire me to try. Try to do something creative. Try to make something new and pretty out of something old and worn. And they just make me happy! And how can I not be when I've got beauties like these looking at me?

source: askingfortrouble.com

What inspires you these days??

Thank Heaven for Garbage Trucks

Dear Mr. Garbage Truck Driver,

I am writing to say thank you for the 15 minutes you buy me every Tuesday between 10:30 and 10:45am. If you look closely, you'll see an adorable little boy- not quite 3 feet tall- fascinated by the mechanical arm on your garbage truck. He listens intently as you drive closer and closer up the street to our house. He watches in wonder as you pull up in front of our driveway with your engine revving and pistons pumping. He stares in awe as you make your way down the street, stopping at house after house collecting trash from those big, brown barrels.

And this, Mr. Garbage Man, is why I love you so!! 

For 15 minutes every Tuesday, my busy bee, 

my tornado of activity, 

my dumper of all things dumpable...

He stays in one place. 

Suddenly, the dishwasher gets unloaded without toy cars flying down the door-turned-race track. Suddenly, the towels get hung up and the bed gets made. Before you know it, this mama has her morning chores done and can sit on the floor next to her little man soaking up the moment...you know, the moment where the biggest thing in his world is how cool your truck is. 

It's the moment where this mama remembers "people over projects" and thinks about how next week when you come, maybe little man and I will just stand and watch your truck together!

**So thanks, Mr. Garbage Truck Driver...from your biggest fan's happy mama**

Hope

The other night while Josh and I were driving down to Ohio for the weekend, I heard a radio broadcast talking about hope. It picked me up. It made me feel less like I'm alone, and more like everyone struggles with the "downers" sometimes. Even if for no apparent reason...

Most of the time I can't really even say what exactly has me feeling so

restless,

discontent,

so disquieted...

but I know that I feel it and I usually know how I got there.

I tend to talk to myself. Not like out loud where you could hear me (Ok, sometimes in the car when I think I'm less conspicuous until I see someone staring at me at a red light.) But I have these conversations in my head about life, and dreams, and frustrations, and dissatisfaction's. Before I even realize it I've talked myself into being upset about something that really isn't even a real issue! ( This is where you leave a comment saying you do the same thing and make me feel more human and less like I need to be admitted somewhere...)

The truth is in talking to myself I am either going to speak words of truth or words of deceit. I can fill my mind with what is true, what is good and lovely....or I can spend my days believing lies.

This week I am committing to truth. I am committing to talking to myself with authority. I am committing to confronting the lies I find repeating over and over in this silly brain of mine, taking capture of them, and marching them on out.

"Why are you cast down, my soul? Why are you disquieted and disturbed within me?

Hope in God!"

I wonder how different life would be if we hoped more and fretted less. If we believed in real truth, and refused to listen to anything else.

Maybe we'd shine more. Maybe we'd do bigger and bolder things. Maybe we would love more freely, and give more abundantly.

When your heart is filled with hope, your life is filled with peace.

The Little Things

Have you ever noticed how the littlest things in life can make you feel so special, happy, encouraged, and excited? And how the littlest things in life can do just the opposite?? For most of us, our days are filled with little things. We live simply among the mundane tasks and activities that make up our day in and day out lives. We have moments where those little things- an unexpected card or email, a good deal at the grocery store, a goofy grin from one of our children- they MAKE our day and help us realize that what we're doing does matter.

Sometimes though, the little things look more like this: A washer full of sopping wet clothes that is protesting the spin cycle, a little boy with a fever clinging to mama's leg, a canceled appointment, dinner burning....the list goes on, doesn't it? How easy it is to become discouraged on those days when the little things are more unpleasant than pleasant!

(Ok, this is the part where I stop talking in vague generalizations, and get real....hold on tight!)

These are the things that have been making me so discontent, frustrated, annoyed, and dare I say, even angry?! And I quickly feel so ungrateful. So discouraged and like such a big, whiny, sinner. In the last month, we've had a fallen tree removed from our deck, a replaced oven, and a new roof put on. For the last 4 days, Blake has had an unexplained fever that resulted in a trip to the doctor yesterday. The fact that it was labeled yet another VIRUS frustrated me to the point of tears...and I felt so stupid for even going in with him. And then today. Today, that I claim to be sweeter than I dared hope or dream...today, that IS sweeter than I can see right now. The washer broke.

My washing machine is not spinning.... but my head is! And in the BIG scheme of life, these little things too shall pass and in a few days none of it will matter. These are the times where my thirst for Christ is greatest. Where I feel that I've had my share of "salty oats" and am ready to GULP whatever thirst-quenching encouragement I can find in God's Word. These are the times that I find myself awake late at night thinking about the people in my life who are experiencing far greater trials than a broken appliance or clingy baby. These are the times I think how differently my life would be without God's grace to cover my unthankful whines and complaints, before I've thought of others ahead of myself.

Sometimes I need a big, fat perspective change so that I can have a big, fat HEART change! So, that's what I'm striving for the rest of today...to make it sweeter, to make it better, and to give in to God before I give in to stress or anger or frustration.