Game On

We worked in our garage last weekend, on what were, I believe, the last two hot days of the year. Isn't that how it can go sometimes? The garage organization is really the last big piece to fall into place at the new house. In 2017, I stumbled onto a blog post that showed using The Container Store elfa System and fell in love with it. It then became a cat and mouse game of getting it designed and waiting for their fall sale that offers the discount on installation as well as the elfa shelving. We got to the purchase point and then installation day came and went, and we were left to work in the garage on our days off to get all of the items put into their new home. And oh my mercy, do I love my new garage storage system, or what? I may have gone out and just stared at it a few days this week.

But sometimes the getting to where you want to be from where you are involves a little blood, sweat, and tears. In this garage organization project, surprisingly, it involved two of the three. If I bled, I don't remember it. See, sitting in my garage, waiting to be gone through and dealt with for years now, were about 5 bins of memorabilia. These bins of memorabilia were in our last garage, so it's not like I haven't been avoiding the obvious for years now. But, right sizing the house has us dealing with things that a big expansive home can hide and handle. Less square footage? You prioritize and deal, and purge and divest. 

And while Steve triaged the bins of actual items to stay in the garage and sorted out what was already quasi-organized into a seasonal sort of semblance, I sat with my bum knee, and he would bring me bins to go through. I think one bin held both 4K and 12th grade for my oldest son, and some years in between. That bin was certainly one to go through. Not only did I deal with school and art work, I dealt with years and years of Christmas cards. It's amazing how the range of emotions can be connected to seeing a card from a long deceased aunt, or  neighbors from 1999, or high school friends from the 1980's. 

And while I sat in that hot, steamy garage working through all of these pieces of paper and the memories and emotions associated with them,  I actually had moments of just recalling and remembering our various homes and our various garages. Quite candidly I will advise you - never go from a home with a three car garage to a home with a two car garage! Those three car garages spoil you! We have had attached garages, detached garages, the old house in McAllen with NO garage {this was the worst!}; all of the garages were two car garages, with our prior home being the exception with that beautiful third bay. 

Some of these garages held two cars, and not much more. Some of these garages held tricycles and that battery operated Jeep the boys were so cute riding around in. Some of these garages held bicycles that we used to condition ourselves for the walking on our first trip to Walt Disney World. Some of these garages held ski equipment and golf equipment and lots of tools, all seldom used, but somewhat necessary to hang onto. And one of these garages momentarily held a ping pong table.

I will confess that I love giving surprises. I love giving what is on a wish list, but I like to throw in a little extra. And one year I got the brilliant idea that the boys should get a ping pong table for Christmas. This was exactly what they needed as a surprise gift! And ever the adoring husband, he supported my surprise. I envisioned lots of ping pong games, and laughter, and time together. The boys were still in middle school, and we were often the gathering place for their friends. This would be perfect, yes?

Well, in the mayhem that followed Christmas Day, we didn't get around to putting it together until New Years Eve {and by we I mean they}. ;-) And at the time, the only place it would fit was in the garage. It was a fun evening. I remember it was, of course, cold in the garage, but the boys were interested and helpful to their dad and the three of them quickly got it put together. 

They were funny to watch play. Steve and I both come from families that love to game and compete, and win. Competitiveness is bred into our sons, I guess. I especially love the grimace I caught on Philip's face in the photo on the right. Seems like he might have just been bested on that shot, or was working up some fierce serve. We played off and on that New Years Eve, and after Steve's schedule settled down, the ping pong table made its way up to the boys' retreat. It dominated the room. The boys at this point had taken over the family media room and watched their TV and movies and gamed in there, so the ping pong table commandeering their retreat was fine.

I didn't expect the ping pong table to be such a flop though. It was. It was a catch all for things. The electronics' siren call dominated the time, and it wasn't often that you could hear the cadence of the ball going back and forth, and ultimately bounding onto the hardwood floor and skittering around. Unretrieved ping pong balls became the cat's toys, and were often accidentally squished under the size 12 shoes that bounded around up there. If someone did want to play, it was hard to find those ping pong balls that had been neglected and more than likely squished.

Sometimes you try something and it isn't what you expect, or it doesn't turn out like you planned. When I was younger, guessing incorrectly would have bothered me more. While this ping pong table reality didn't leave up to my fantasies about it, it's no big deal. The times we used it and had fun with it were worth the hassle and inconvenience of carting it upstairs, and ultimately back down. 

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. You can never know until you try. And if modeling anything to my sons was paramount, it was that it was okay to try new things. And succeed. Or fail. It was okay to adapt and adjust. And in life, you sometimes need to just roll up your shirtsleeves and try. You might win or you might lose, but you get one shot at this thing called life. You may as well go for it. Game on.

Ping Pong ~ Garage Gaming ~ December 31, 2009 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title: Silhouette cut file

Thankful & Blessed

Our first cool front is moving in now, right behind the rain that is falling. Autumn in Texas, much like winter, is more a state of mind than a significant shift. It's a gradual conversion, and fall to us is when it falls below 80 degrees, and the breeze is no longer hot. If we get any color change on any trees, we count it a bonus. Living in north Texas, I get as much fall as the state offers, and if you select your trees well, you can conjure up some "fall color" and tease yourself into thinking you have a fall season.

I was chatting with my daughter-in-law and my youngest son's girlfriend in August, and we were talking about our favorite season. It was humorous to reveal that each of us picked as our favorite season the one which held our birthday. So, yes, as a Scorpio, my favorite season is fall. To me it represents all the good feels: the coming back home after the vacation months, the settling in to the keeping of the house and the ensuing preparation for company coming for the holidays, the anticipation of family gatherings, and the simple joys of football, slower paced days, shorter days, glorious sunrises, and cool evenings spent on the porch or patio watching the sun go down.

Growing up, fall was a kaleidoscope of togetherness - the annual trek to Denton from Houston to be with family for Thanksgiving, the side stop at the farm, the smorgasbord of food at both houses, the sounds of family laughter, the setting of the one household television constantly broadcasting the football game de jour. It was like Christmas, without the cold (which I hate), and without the presents (which always seem to add stress), and for more days (because we always had Thursday to Sunday for this annual trek.) Yes, Christmas 2.0 definitely. The improved and better version!

And then there was my November birthday! Early years were family parties that morphed into adolescent slumber parties, that morphed into my birthday being somehow recognized whenever we gathered for Thanksgiving. In our house, my brother's birthday was five days after mine, and my dad's birthday was eight days after mine, so growing up we had a trifecta of birthday celebrations, and while theirs both sometimes fell on Thanksgiving, crowning them officially as turkeys, mine never did, and that added to the joy and the fun of it all for me. I never had to share my day, and I could never be called the turkey. Win win.

As I transitioned from high school to college, fall meant the imminence of Thanksgiving break, and the real homecoming - the trek from central Arkansas back to coastal Texas, and bringing with it the relief from roommates, dorm life, professor quirks, unending assignments, and most importantly, cafeteria food. Ahhh...the food of fall! Chili, casseroles, chicken fried steak, fried eggplant, hot water cornbread, pies, cookies. There's nothing better than my mother's cooking. I come from a family of good cooks, and it really spoils you to the savory goodness of family favorites. To me, home cooked meals are quintessential to the adoration of all things fall.

As a young married gal, fall turned into planning a multi-family gathering in Houston which was followed by a marathon shopping day. Yes, we were Black Friday gals. My mom, my sisters, and I started Black Friday shopping when I was in elementary school, heading to the budget basement floor of downtown Foley's, back before malls existed. When Gulfgate Mall opened up, we shifted to that mall, and then we moved around over the 30 years (~ 1970 to 2000) of Houston Black Friday shopping to whichever mall was the newest, or had the best Foley's. When my sisters had toddlers, we would head to Toys 'R Us first, and then move on to Foley's. Walmart and Target folded in there along the way, the newer version of Gemco.

When we moved away from the Houston area in 1997, we were initially able to head back "home" to Houston for family Thanksgiving while we lived in San Antonio. However, in 2000 when we moved south to the border town of McAllen, our Thanksgivings changed and we began the new tradition of having our own Thanksgiving, and welcoming whomever was willing and able to travel to be with us. {Having a husband in retail has its benefits, but also its pitfalls. No traveling on the holidays definitely falls into the latter category. But like with much of life, we adapt, choose joy, and press on.}

By the time we moved to Dallas in the summer of 2005, we were adjusted to our new routine, and began recruiting early for guests to come join us for our fall feast. And with that came the anticipation of the company, and the preparation for their arrival. We love to welcome guests to our home. And part of the whole fun of fall, to me, was in using the golden days of September, October, and November to prepare my home, hearth, and heart for the influx of holiday guests. Since I am a natural planner, and since hubby works so much during the holiday season, we learned to start early, especially as we have aged! We don't move quite as fast as we used to. ;-)

And as some years were spent alone, with the travel rotation of friends and family committed elsewhere, we duly learned to be thankful for the years when we did have company, and we also truly learned to enjoy the quiet years where it was a table set for four. {And having spent one year with a table set for two, I can truly appreciate now setting down four plates.} Every fall seemed to be a shift and like the leaves falling in the wind, a varied and enjoyed moment to take in.

Across the space of time and locales and age, I think the biggest shift I've made regarding fall is to take it from a celebration of the season to become a spirit of awareness, a spirit of gratitude, an acknowledgement of being thankful and blessed. Sometimes I hate the word "blessed". It brings out, in some circles, a sense of smug bragging, as if "I've lived such a good life - see my rewards?" and I hate that. But the "blessed" that resonates within me is the acknowledgement of all the incredibly good things in my life that are pure gifts, because they are completely undeserved. And I try so hard to be so thankful for them, not only in the fall, but year round.

This little layout captures just a snip of what some might call my "attitude of gratitude". These are just some random photos taken by me in the fall of 2014, in the fall that turned out unexpectedly to be our last fall at our beautiful home in Murphy. Me sitting with my dog on my patio on a beautiful October afternoon. My husband working hard to clean the outside of windows as we prepare for company. The beauty of a changing tree in my front yard that I paused to notice when headed out for a walk. The cart full of special groceries on our foodie run to Central Market. Thanksgiving isn't just a day. Thanks giving is a way of life. And I want to recall, this year, this first November without my dad, this Thanksgiving holiday most of all, that I am thankful and blessed. I want to remember. Help me remember. Thankful. And blessed.

I Heart Fall ~ Fall Bliss ~ October 2014

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Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title: Simple Stories

Ready for Happily Ever After

It seems only logical to follow my last blog post up with a post to showcase some engagement photo layouts. I do envy today's generation that reaps all the benefits of living in a digital age. Marybeth and Philip have more engagement photos than were taken at mine and Steve's wedding! And they are all stunning. I had fun with my favorite 4, printing them out as 5 x 7's, and I completely went off the engagement grid by pairing them with a camping line. But I knew when I saw these photos that Simple Stories Cabin Fever would be spectacular. 

I want to share here some words I penned for Marybeth on her January birthday:

I met Miss Mary Elizabeth Perry of Memphis, TN on May 12, 2016, but I had first heard of her two years earlier. Sometimes good things come to those that wait. I have never had a daughter, and have never regretted having only sons. And for years I have prayed for the women my sons would date, and court. On May 12, 2016, I knew that God had answered my prayer with Philip. It was love at first sight. Steve and I waited anxiously, albeit nervously, in the lobby of the Grand Floridian as Philip and Marybeth drove down to Walt Disney World from Nashville. When we got the text that they were getting close, we moved outside to the porte cachere. The first photo below is the first photo I ever took of MB, and what followed were four days of together time, of family fun, of getting to know one another, of staying up until 3 AM, of laughing hard, of sharing meals, all while we traipsed around the Happiest Place on Earth.

It was a gamble for me to invite her to join us. It's a little unnerving, on both sides, to meet someone for the first time and feel the weight of potential future commitment. MB is a delight to be around, and she offered me several gifts over those next 4 days. The first gift was just the absolute thrilling joy of having another girl on the family trip, someone who would break out in song with me, someone that would race to see the princesses with me, someone that always smiled and jumped INTO the selfie. The second gift was seeing how much my son loved her. That first day we stayed at Magic Kingdom until after 2 AM. We made it to our hotel about 2:30 AM and as we approached the hotel door, I heard my son say, "Babe, give me the keys. I want to go to the car and get your hairspray." Somewhat silly you may say. But I knew in that moment that the boy that would walk quite aways into a parking lot at 2:30 AM for a can of hairpray was a boy that was in love with this girl by his side. And, seeing how they interacted together over the next 4 days, it was endearing to see such a bedrock of commingled friendship and affection, of tenderness and jesting, of loving and of liking one another. The third gift that she gave me was just the gift of being herself. It was easy to see that she was a confident and fun girl, and completely comfortable being in her skin. She embraced all experiences and enjoyed the adventure. She said yes to trying new things. She was up and at it early each day, and went hard all day long, enjoying every moment of it all. I still chuckle when I recall her pushing back at Andrew's teasing of Philip by jabbing her finger toward him and spurting, "QUIT IT." The fourth gift that she gave us was of loving Steve and I. It was such an honor to meet her, to spend time with her, and to see her wanting to get to know us and opening up her heart to us, and inviting us to open up our heart to hers.

Four days went all too fast. Since that May trip, I've had the absolute pleasure of seeing MB again in August in Dallas, in September in Nashville, in November and then again in December in McKinney - a handful of days - less than 30 in total. But she is never far from my heart, I miss her every day, and I look forward to having the rest of my life to spend time with her and to continue to get to know her. This is the first year that I've been able to celebrate this beautiful joy of a woman on her birthday. Steve and I are so thrilled that she is now a part of our life. Happy Birthday Marybeth Perry! May God pour out His lavish grace on you every day, and may this next year of your life be one full of joy, of wonder, and of adventure! I love you and you are such a blessing to us!

And now Miss Marybeth Perry has been Marybeth Grimsley for one whole week! Yes, the engagement photos have turned into wedding photos. And I love that I have another girl in the family. I am no longer the only Grimsley girl! The last seventeen months of their dating, courtship, and engagement have been such a time of happiness in our family. 

We are just thrilled to have a front row seat to watch them live out their very own Happily Ever After. They are so happy together.

Philip & Marybeth, Happiness Found Togther, True Love, Ready for Happily Ever After ~ Engagement Photos ~ April 2016

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Titles: Silhouette Cut Files, Ballerina Script, Arial

The Fab Five

I've had a slow week, and it's been enjoyable. But I've felt a little lost, to be honest. My big To Do list is done, and there is nothing grand looming on the horizon, aside from normal every day life, and the ensuing {and much anticipated} onslaught of the holiday season. I've worked this week, and gone home at night, and just been able to sit on the couch and watch football, and it's been good, but it's also felt weird. 

You see, on May 12, 2016, my husband and I met Miss Mary Elizabeth Perry of Memphis, Tennessee, and it was quickly evident our son was smitten with her, and we knew him well enough to know that this could very well be the real deal. They had their first date at a college social club roller-skating event on February 24, 2016, and from our phone and FaceTime conversations with Philip after that first date, we took the risk in March and extended an invitation for Marybeth to join us in May on our family vacation to Walt Disney World (WDW). It felt very daring at the time to invite a young lady, whom we did not know, to come stay with us in a shared hotel room. But, at the same time it felt very natural to want to meet her, and to include her in our annual trek to the happiest place on earth. 

Honestly, aside from the initial awkwardness over the idea of sharing a hotel room, I thought, "What better place to get to know one another? There's plenty to do, conversation can be natural and not forced, and time together at Disney is always fun, right?" Thankfully, she took an equal risk and said YES, and so on May 12, Philip and Marybeth drove up to the Grand Floridian, where Steve and I had been sitting in the porte cachere, waiting and very excited and anxious for their arrival. She was shy at first, and rightfully so. Meeting "the family" can be daunting. But, for my part, I loved her from the beginning. How could you not look at her, and just be smitten? So much beauty, inside and out.

She was energetic, enthusiastic, funny, sincere, honest, heart-warming, joyful, happy, and caring. I loved that she jumped IN to the selfies, I loved that she sang songs with me in the room and in the parks, I loved that we ran together later that first day, after midnight, to the Princess Hall to meet Rapunzel. 

We had decided, with the extension of the invite, to go ALL IN on our son's girlfriend, and we could tell early on that she was going ALL IN with us, too. She had been to Walt Disney World before, but so many things were still new to her, and seeing them through her eyes brought an added measure of joy to me and to Steve. I snapped this photo of her as we rode the monorail over to Epcot on that first day - she was straining to see the sights out the monorail window, and it made me smile so. Such a tender blessing. I could weep over the joy this beauty gives to me and to Steve, and to our son, Philip.

We had a wonderful day at Epcot. Steve, Philip, and I all chuckled every time Marybeth said something, because it included some iteration of the word wonderful. "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world..." Yes, yes, we all thought the day was indeed truly wonderful! We worked our way through Future World, and then headed back to the World Showcase, and we were able to introduce both Philip and Marybeth to the Flower and Garden Festival food booths. It was a beautiful Florida May day, and we just worked our way around the world, sampling drinks and eats, chatting, having fun. It was also wonderful ;-) that we had the PhotoPass photographers around to take our picture! Such a blessing to have the memories and the magic captured.

Steve and I had the opportunity to buy Magic Kingdom (MK) After Dark tickets for the four of us for that first day, Thursday May 12. We asked Marybeth if she was up for a long day. We tried to explain to her that we vacation hard at WDW, and I don't think she fully took in the extent of that, but she did learn quickly. ;-) {See, why waste any time when you are at the Happiest Place on Earth? Sleeping is for home!} 

So, after spending a full day at Epcot, we park hopped over to Magic Kingdom and from 11 PM to 2 AM, we were able to do so many attractions at MK. Probably my favorite moment was when I finally had a GIRL with me that wanted to go into the Princess Hall. I have always adored having sons, but in that moment, it was wonderful to have a glimpse of what it would be like to have a daughter. So very precious.

Doesn't her smile light up the room? I loved that she and I both got to meet Rapunzel together, for the first time, on this magical After Dark night! 

We got back to our hotel that night at 2:30 AM, the day spent, full of fun, laughter, smiles, and happy togetherness. As we approached the monorail station and prepared to embark, my Philip says, "Babe, where are your car keys? I want to go get your hairspray out of the car for you now." Now, to many people that might seem completely normal, but Steve and I immediately exchanged a knowing glance. This was PHILIP saying this, Philip who likes people to bring HIM things, Philip who loves to yell, "Dad...", Philip who tires first and loves to head to bed, Philip who almost never offers such a gesture! And this was Philip offering this AFTER a very long day, at such a late hour! In that moment, I knew he loved her so very much, and my heart melted toward them even more. 

He headed off to the car and we headed on to our room, all ready for bed. Friday the 13th was Animal Kingdom day, and we were going to get up and go hard again the next day. After all, we had only four days together, and four parks to hit. And up and at 'em we did. We were enjoying our time together, yet just a little bit sad that Andrew couldn't join us. He was in his gap year preparing for culinary school, working at two restaurants at this point: Ida Claire in the morning, and Whiskey Cake at night. It did not seem the same without him, and we were all thankful for Marybeth's presence to help aid our coping with Andrew's absence. 

One of my favorite things to do at Animal Kingdom is to see The Festival of the Lion King (FOTLK). I seriously never tire of this show. It's spectacular. The Lion King movie came out June 1994, after Philip was born that April. Buying that video when it came out was a "necessity", and my boys watched that movie together so many times during their early years. I always loved belting out the Circle of Life, and all the other songs, singing along while they watched the movie. So, on this May 13, 2016, when we were at Walt Disney World for the first time without one of us, as I sat in FOTLK, I wept. I cried for all the years behind us, and all the years ahead of us. I wept at the memories, and I wept at the possibilities. And I cried for the joy and the anguish of the day we were in - the joy of having Marybeth with us, the anguish of not having Andrew with us. Ah, "the circle of life, the wheel of fortune..."

Circle of Life

Elton John 

From the day we arrive on the planet

And blinking, step into the sun

There's more to be seen than can ever be seen

More to do than can ever be done

Some say eat or be eaten

Some say live and let live

But all are agreed as they join the stampede

You should never take more than you give

In the circle of life

It's the wheel of fortune

It's the leap of faith

It's the band of hope

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

Some of us fall by the wayside

And some of us soar to the stars

And some of us sail through our troubles

And some have to live with the scars

There's far too much to take in here

More to find than can ever be found

But the Sun rolling high through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

In the circle of life

It's the wheel of fortune

It's the leap of faith

It's the band of hope

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle, the circle of life

And as we walked out of the show, those lyrics ever seared on my heart, my eyes damp from the tears, my 6' 2" baby boy is actually standing there in the Harambe Market plaza, waiting for me, having woken up at 3 AM to fly over from Dallas to WDW for 24 hours. It was the greatest surprise of my life, and I cried and screamed and laughed all at the same time, and that baby boy Andrew just laughed and laughed, knowing he had pulled off a good one.

This boy of mine has such a big and genuine heart. "The circle of life, the wheel of fortune, the leap of faith, the band of hope...'til we find our place on the path unwinding..." And in that moment, it was pure and joyful, and the five us us were together. Andrew got to meet Marybeth, and Marybeth got to meet Andrew, and for one day we were all together. We, like Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, and Pluto, were the Fab Five.

We finished up Animal Kingdom and park hopped to Hollywood Studios, and the day went all too fast. Andrew had worked on Thursday, and had to work on Saturday night, his ethics preventing him from asking for a day off. It meant so much to all of us that he wanted to come over and be with us. I've teased him since that he has forever ruined FOTLK for me because when I walk out, there is no grand surprise of him standing there to greet me. ;-) He enjoys that, I think. ;-)

I have lots of photos of that day to scrap, and I will get to them all soon I hope. Such a wonderful day. After Andrew left us, we finished up our trip Sunday at Magic Kingdom. And that trip ended, and life went on. The Fab Five. Philip and Marybeth continued dating, and by Thanksgiving, Philip began talking to us about engagement rings. And he and Marybeth, having only started dating in February, knew soon they were the forever ones for each other, and even looked together in Dallas over Thanksgiving break for rings. In our family, we fall hard, and we fall fast. ALL IN. {I remember Steve and I started dating in October, and were engaged in July. When you know, you know.}

It was February 25, 2017 when Philip proposed to Marybeth. And the wedding planning swirl joyfully began. Venue found, date selected, and all the decisions began falling into place. And this time last week, Steve and I were driving toward Gallatin, Tennessee with a car load of supplies, set to host the rehearsal dinner Friday night. Philip and Marybeth had the most beautiful wedding on Saturday, September 9, and have now begun their very own Happily Ever After. Such a blessing and such a joy. And I'm so looking forward to scrapping it!! 

And right now we are officially The Fab Five. And we are ready for another chapter. Another beautiful, new chapter. What I have learned is that Best Day Ever is an organic term. You can and do have the Best Day Ever. And then life comes along and hands you something bigger and better, another Best Day Ever. I'd like to think that The Fab Five are ready now for another Best Day Ever. Right now we're just resting up, living our normal life, waiting for it. But I think I will see it coming someday. I hope I do. I sure hope I do. Because The Fab Five will take another Best Day Ever. "There's far too much to take in here..." But, we're trying. Boy are we trying.

Best Day Ever ~ The Fab Five at Hollywood Studios ~ May 13, 2016

Sketch Credit: Pinterest (I apologize - I cannot find the layout that inspired me - I will continue to search for it.)

Paper: Simple Stories

A Chef in the Making

I don't know if I should go back to the little boy that was quick to help me in the kitchen, or to the boy that made me a cookie that spelled MOM for my first birthday that I was back at work, or to the boy that was in his element as a food runner and expo at Top Golf, or to the boy that did not want to go to college and did not really enjoy college...These could all be starting points for the current chapter of his life, and I guess they are all touch points.

When Andrew was abroad for his semester in Lithuania, I did a layout about him and on that layout I used the quote:

"We must take adventures to know where we truly belong."

And while I struggle a bit with the expense of sending him to college in Colorado for one year, and then the expense of send him abroad for a semester, I know ultimately it was all part of his journey. I can't really complain. The child told me dozens of time his senior year that he did NOT want to go to college. I believe part of why he finally succumbed to going was the realization that he would get away from us, or at least get away from me. So, he did win in the end, and have his "gap year". And the $25,000 we spent on that "wasted" year and a half was - has to be - viewed as an investment in him. It's only money after all, right? ;-) It does no good to think otherwise....

So when Andrew set off for Colorado Christian University, he was going in as an English major, to become a teacher. And then before the first class began, he had shifted more toward a Sociology major. Or maybe I have this vice versa. {Who can recall?!} Then, during his semester in Lithuania - at least at the beginning of it - he wanted to major in Theology, and post graduation start church plants with his friend Chase. But somewhere along the way during that European semester, he got the bug about cooking, and found an online cooking class. He wanted to take it concurrent with his spring 2016 semester at CCU. And then it shifted to him wanting to only take the cooking class, and not enroll at CCU at all. And we debated and pleaded with the boy across the ocean to at least please just ENROLL for the spring 2016 semester, and then we could talk about it when he was back stateside mid-December 2015. We didn't win that contest. We haven't really won a contest with this kid for a few years now. Stubborn he is.

Now, you may recall that hubby and I had moved from our big home to a little apartment on July 28, 2015. So, said child coming home to live with us was really quite a factor, as there was very limited living space....And the second apartment bedroom we planned to use as storage soon became a bedroom that was going to need to be lived in. Andrew disregarded our advice and listened to his own heart and did come home indeed in December 2015, and did indeed take a "gap year". He did not move out until March 11, 2017. We had him at home for fifteen months and despite the apartment life, we really enjoyed having him around. And while he has long been a handful, I have missed him every day since he left. And I've only got the one photo of him in his new life, which hurts just as bad, and in a completely different way.

But, while he was home, he was busy making good use of his time: learning the trade, building his resume, pocketing his paychecks. Through a Walt Disney World photography club connection, I garnered the name and number of a chef at a local farm to table restaurant. That chef hired Andrew  in January 2016 to work in the kitchen, cooking on the line. Andrew worked at that restaurant until Christmas Eve. For several months during his Whiskey Cake stint, he would work the morning shift at a sister restaurant Ida Claire. He'd leave there at 3:30, after arriving there at 8 AM, and clock in at Whiskey Cake at 4:00 PM, working until close, finishing up around midnight. Then he'd get up again and do it the next day. He worked hard. He respected his coworkers and they respected him. 

After doing all he could do at Ida Claire and Whiskey Cake, he hopped over to another sister restaurant to work in their bakery and gain some different experience. It was amusing to hear him tell tales of his workdays all year long, and the change at the twelve month mark was good for him - he found out "for free" that he didn't want to pursue a bakery/pastry direction at culinary school. He said it was all too slow of a pace, and too repetitive. Working at the fast pace of the kitchen line had shaped him into someone enjoying the pressure of managing the tickets' meal prep.

The boy has always had an incredible work ethic and a strong moral compass. I was amazed at his energy level when he worked at Top Golf - always bounding out of the house, ready to go to work. At Whiskey Cake, Ida Claire, and The Ranch he was the same way, even though his work days were many times in excess of 12 hours, and he was on his feet that entire time, working non-stop, without breaks, water, food. I watched him "feed" his passion during his gap year, and I watched his passion feeding him, in the literal and physical sense of course!

We were trying to diet when he was home and it was so incredibly hard! That boy was always finding a restaurant for us to try, or wanting to go try a new dish at one of his faves. We frequently caved because we knew our time home with him was limited, and that upon completion of his culinary degree and his entering this industry full-time as a career that his time off will be minimal, and our odds of being home together for the holidays slim to none. But, ponderings aside, if he wasn't working and we weren't eating out, we might be found watching the Netflix series, "The Chef's Table"  while playing a game of Catan. The industry as a whole is fascinating, and I soaked in all of this information, using it as my primer to morph into "mom of a chef". ;-)

And during this gap year, while we were crammed in an apartment, building a house, having a son living at home, I watched not only the episodes of a chef in the making on the Netflix series, but I watched it happen to my boy. The longer he worked the line, the more he found himself refining his skills, defining his tastes, discovering his dreams. Around December 2016 he decided he was finally ready to formally apply to The Culinary Institute of America. He had the experience, he had the credentials, he had the recommendations, and above and beyond all of that, he had the refined and honed desire. The dream was still in his heart.

He was of course quickly accepted and elected for a March 27, 2017 start date. {New groups start every 3 weeks, if you can believe that!} My boy had made the cut and was headed to "the Harvard of cooking schools". The countdown began. My mom heart got heavy. We ramped up our Catan games, knowing they would all too soon end. We shopped for some things. We got the financing in place. And on March 11, he and hubby headed out to Nashville to spend some time with our oldest son, and then from there Andrew would continue on to upstate New York for dorm check-in on March 26.

The picture below on the left is him the night before they were to head north in March. He was all smiles - so happy to finally be going, to be heading to his new beginning. I appreciated the irony of him wearing a Colorado shirt - a perfect farewell tribute to his old path - with the cheek to cheek smile a fitting accessory for his new adventure. And on the right, the one photo I have of him since March 27: his first day of class, clean shaven, in chef jacket and toque, for some reason serious as all get out, ready to head into the class kitchen. Right in front of my eyes, a chef in the making. I know he's doing well. I know he's showing up every day and giving it his all. I know he is making the cut.  

Making the Cut ~ Beginning Culinary School ~ March 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: My Minds Eye

Title Font: Pacifico, Times New Roman

Story Central: Simply Amazing

I began the task of scrapbooking in a rather modest fashion, as a 29-year-old young, stay-at-home mom, working at the breakfast table with a stash of supplies that would fit into a Craftstor bin. 

Did you have one, too? I was rather proud of that bin. And then I required a second matching bin. And the coat closet, seldom used in the gulf winters of Houston, gave way to usher in a scrapbook closet. And before too much longer, the dining room became the formal living room, and the formal living room became a combination home office and scrapbook space. 

And that was just in the first house. I am about 3 months short of the 23rd anniversary of that day I went to that fated, memorable Creative Memories class. ;-) And in that span of time, over the course of twenty-three years, I have worked in the above scenarios: in the corner nook of a playroom, on the side of a bedroom, in 1/3 of a bonus room, in one corner of a home gym, in 1/2 of a home office, and now, finally, in the fifth home in which I've scrapped, and for the first time ever, I finally have my own whole room, dedicated completely to me, designed exclusively for me. It feels like heaven.

Of course, my style of scrapbooking has evolved and tectonically shifted as much in all the time which spans over two decades, just as the space in which I've worked. Thank goodness. ;-) I'm so glad I live in a scrapbooking world that contains the goodness of Echo Park, Carta Bella, and Simple Stories, all companies that have come along in the last ten years or so, companies that have come along "after the scrapbooking boom ended".

When we set about to move to our downsized nest, a downstairs study for my scrap space was on the must have list. When we found and selected the first house's floor plan, the Samuel, which had a 12 x 15 study, I was ecstatic. And then when we changed builders and neighborhoods, and selected and bought our Roseman floor plan, 8 months after the contract signing of the Samuel, it was delightful to discover a 12 x 15 study in it as well. 12 x 15!! So much real estate for my part-time love affair. I've come a long way from that scenario of one end of the breakfast table paired with a coat closet.

Not only was I granted the dream coming true of that much space all to myself, but I was given the permission, and the invitation, and the support by my husband to design my space. I initially planned to use stock Ikea cabinets. But as I thought about the Roseman and the finish-out of this second downsized house, the idea of a "second kitchen" right off the front door did not really appeal to me. I was driven back to Pinterest to start over on my design, and to find inspiration to go perhaps in even a new direction. Somewhere along the way, I saw a built-in secretary type of a bookcase, and my mind had a big light bulb moment, and I took to Numbers to draft up what would become my scrap space storage.

Two months. I spent over two months on the drawing. I studied everything I owned. I measured masses: height, width, quantity. I contemplated future buying potential, the need for expansion, my frequency of use, the need for accessibility.... Every little detail was poured over and over, and over with a fine tooth comb -- with 20 years of history and knowledge and desires and ideas. I decided I wanted to have an L-shaped workspace. I spaced out what would go where within the room. And then I took all of that information, and began slotting its space in the room, and into the designated wall of cabinetry. I finally got the design where I wanted it, and set back and waited for the house to be finished, and for it to become cabinet time.

When the house finished in November, I knew I would need to wait until after Steve's fiscal year-end for his assistance in overseeing the work, as his days off are more often than not weekdays. It was okay. I kept my design fresh in my mind, and busied myself with setting up the rest of the house, preparing for the holidays, having family over for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The New Year rolled around, and Steve's work fiscal year-end passed, and I set out to get quotes on my design. Four quotes. I went with the one that was in the middle on the pricing, and that offered a warranty on their work, and that when talking to him, felt like I was maybe talking to an uncle. Such a kind man. It took them seven long weeks from my meeting with them and paying my deposit on January 19 to the two-day installation which began on March 10. That's the time frame you're looking at for custom, complex work when you currently live in an area that has a booming home industry and several corporate relocations occurring.

Once I got a firm installation date set with my cabinet team, I could then schedule my painters. I had done my painter research during the long arduous weeks of the cabinet build. Armed with a few possible painting dates, I reached out and scheduled the painting. And then I set out to firm up my paint color choice. {Which selection I completely and absolutely adore 110%.} Benjamin Moore Hale Navy. My painting crew was as wonderful as my cabinet crew, but humidity and complications had the painting stretch from March 23 to March 31, and then I had to let the enamel based paint cure for 5 long days. The saying "Great things come to those who wait" had never felt more authentic.

Finally, finally move-in day arrived! The displaced scrapbook stash -- that had come out of four Expedits and been piled in the dining room, the living room, the retreat, the hallway, and one son's bedroom -- could finally begin coming downstairs to its new and beloved home. And as the migration commenced, the utter neglect of my basic and fundamental stash organizational discipline quickly became evident, and quickly came home to roost. Practically everything I went to put away had to be tweaked either by collating new purchases into the existing supplies, or by purging some unwanted excess, or by changing its storage container, and all too frequently, tweaking had to occur in all three areas. That is I guess the ultimate consequence for shopping for twenty-two months and not being able to properly put things away. I had some wonderful friends during this time that kept encouraging me as I waded through my self-made abyss of bliss.

I made lists. I prioritized. I had to go slowly and intentionally, as I wanted everything to be logical and accessible. I religiously studied my initial drawing, and had to adapt the placement of some things as I dealt with the actual masses of certain collections and the finalized dimensions of the cabinet uppers and drawers. {This is where I encountered and slayed daily my inner Perfectionist demon.} Every day I worked hard to cross things off that list. Sometimes the desire to empty a space upstairs would override the next logical thing on the list. I was balancing clearing out the chaos upstairs with creating order downstairs. As I finished or completed an area, I would highlight it in orange to let me know that section was full and done.

I was constantly collating new purchases into an existing stash. Sometimes I would find more of something that had been packed away with the wrong type of items, and have to revamp new spaces again. Lots of late nights. Innumerable trips to The Container Store. {When the managers at two locations greet you, you know you've been in too many times.} A frequent trip to Joann's and Michael's and Hobby Lobby, looking for the ideal storage was sometimes the back-up plan for failed Container Store excursions. Always carrying with me the dimensions for my necessities de jour, and more often than not, carrying my cabinet print out in my purse.

Thankfully, my husband was so patient as I sat in my new digs night after night, listening to reruns of HGTV, Modern Family, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Law & Order episodes. Who am I kidding? He, too, was ready for the return of order to the house! He even patiently spent one evening with me working on a new brad storage system. Poor guy. His lack of fingernails made the end of his fingers so sore and tender after countless times of peeling brads off of cardboard backers. And he's done more than that. He's done just anything I've needed him to! The day recently when he did "my cross wall" was such a day of joy to me. My space is nearly done. There is one pile that haunts me. And, full disclosure, there is memorabilia in the garage to deal with. I count that more on the Moving In/Housekeeping side of the To Do list rather than the Scrap Room Set-Up To Do list. ;-)

But, the small, resolute, lingering, seemingly indestructible pile aside, I'm ready. I'm ready to be done. {There will always be a pile, yes? It's time to move on! Yes? Yes!} I'm ready to play. I'm ready to stop cataloging and purging and organizing and placing. I'm ready to cut paper, and play with photos. I'm ready to sail past the "soft opening" test runs with my new space that I've experienced to meet some project deadlines. I'm ready to launch into the wide open clear spaces of unencumbered scrapping, endless projects going on, fun piles here and there, and embracing the freedom and the time to tell stories that need to be told, stories that are welling up inside of me, stories that are ready to be birthed.

As I contemplated and pondered Every.Little.Detail. of this space, from supply storage to stash placement to workflow to lighting to paint colors to fabric choices to wall decor to cabinet knobs, I came to realize that Scrap Central wasn't going to be the name of my play space anymore. That sounded not only a little pedestrian, but a little too negative. This beautiful new space isn't to be about scraps, it's to be about stories! It's to be about memories, and photos, and sharing what I love about the people I love, and the very good life that I am blessed to live.

story1

  [stawr-ee, stohr-ee] 

noun, plural stories.

1.

a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.

2.

a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.

3.

such narratives or tales as a branch of literature:

song and story.

4.

the plot or succession of incidents of a novel, poem, drama, etc.:

The characterizations were good, but the story was weak.

5.

a narration of an incident or a series of events or an example of these that is or may be narrated, as an anecdote, joke, etc.

6.

a narration of the events in the life of a person or the existence of a thing, or such events as a subject for narration:

the story of medicine; the story of his life.

7.

a report or account of a matter; statement or allegation:

The story goes that he rejected the offer.

8.

news story.

9.

a lie or fabrication:

What he said about himself turned out to be a story.

10.

Obsolete. history.

verb (used with object), storied, storying.

11.

to ornament with pictured scenes, as from history or legend.

12.

Obsolete. to tell the history or story of.

And so I knew in my heart that when I unveiled my new space, I would be unveiling a new name as well: Story Central. 

Story: "A narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale" or "A narration of the events in the life of a person...the story of his life." 

Yes, yes, one million yeses! That is what I want to be about - narrating the story of my life, and the life of my family. 

Thank you for hanging with me during the transition, during all the dusty, neglected days on this blog. It's definitely now time to turn a page and begin a new chapter in my book.  And so I unveil to you Story Central, my beautiful, custom, delightful spot from which I pray I will sit and share with you many more days of my crafting the good story I love. She is simply amazing.

Story Central ~ Documenting the Design ~ April 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title Font: Watermelon Script