a book and a bowl, undecorated

I have to laugh out loud as I search through my computer files 

to find the photos that I sent from my phone to update and post here on found {interiors}. As I scrolled through the hundreds of photos 

I saw images of our living spaces over the last several years...

Everything green for almost a decade, lace everything with mosaic and roses before that... and that chevron grass cloth wallpaper!

Zigzag. I have enough zigzag in my life. What to do?

A few years ago one of my sisters gave me a 10 gallon bucket of joint compound and told me how easy it was to apply right over any existing wall. Really? I'll have to think about that. 

And then at last something happened.

My husband went on a business trip so I thought no better time than now to get it done.  It was told to me that it would take only a few days tops.  Eleven days later I was still smearing white paste over the anxiety inducing grass cloth wall paper.  I did try to remove the wall paper but I could see that I was going to lose the battle so I conceded. I was just wanting undecorated walls to start over with and in the process I found that I loved the clear, clean space of nothing right in the middle of our living room.

Life can be so colorful.

Busy.

Chaotic.

Noisy.

Lots of children call this place home.

Lots of cooking, cleaning, running, doing...

I've heard of white noise.

I was looking for white space.

Always adjusting, evolving, changing to the needs of this growing family and the household four legged begging, shedding pets.

Hairy.

So hairy. The pets.

And all the girls have lonnnnng hair.

We give our vacuum roller a haircut every month, no kidding.

But did you know a lab sheds it's entire coat every 3 months?

I could start a business making men's toupees or throw pillows.

A bucket of compound was symbolic of the simplicity I craved.

So I finished the easy 2 day project in 11.5 days, just in time to hurry off to the airport to welcome home traveling husband.

I quickly rinsed off the tools and shoved the almost empty bucket onto the crowded workbench in the garage, washed the white crust off my arms and hands and tried to look less 'messy haired crazy lady' as I ran out the door to pick up waiting husband.

This bowl is from a restaurant closing sale that my sister took me to. She said that she and mom went there often.  

The book: Mom was a descendant of the Bohemian lifestyle.

So much unknown about family history and a few things I do know

but either was it is always interesting so the book and the bowl seem to compliment each other well here on a clean open space.

It's a reminder of history with literal space created, shaped and protected for the future.  Room to breathe.

A few days later our family was working in the garage and as we cleaned out and moved things around my husband asked "where should we put this old ladder?"

"How about the living room? It somehow it seems to fit."

Growing, changing, rearranging, working, simplifying, layers and layers of compound and paint drips serve as reminders of progress, past victories and growth.

"Mom, are you gonna sand the walls?" Nope.

"Are you gonna paint the walls?"  No.

I am leaving it like it is. Raw. Honest. Pure. 

Even a bit jaded but true to itself.

At a glance the room looks peaceful. Clean. Simple. Clear.

The walls are reminders to breathe. Stop. Be present. 

No additives needed. No embellishments. No frills. Just pure.

Striving only unto rest.

Until next time,

Deborah