While reading the much beloved Anne of the Island I came across the description of a most inviting little house, and was intreagued to think of what my own ‘house o’ dreams’, in the words of Anne Shirley, would look like, finding it in many ways similar to Patty’s Place, the aforementioned inviting residence. And so for days I have dreamt of my little house, and cannot now pass up the temptation to describe it to you, dear friends.

The most important detail of my house o’ dreams is that it is indeed no house, but a home; aglow with love and laughter and blessings. A family washed in the water and cleansed by the blood; a family that prays together; a family that snuggles together; a family that plays together; a family that loves together. The bathrooms smell like baby lotion and the clothes are are clean and fresh. The pillows are always a little disheveled and there are always a few books missing from the shelves. The girls’ ponytails are always a little loose, and the boys’ shoes always find themselves missing, for this is a home, not a house. The kitchen is never perfectly clean because there is always someone baking. The beds are never untouched because there is always a child napping. And the house is never dark, for the Lord is always shining in it; here in my house o’ dreams. Life is good in this home, for God has richly blessed it, and its simply sweet.

Love from my house o’ dreams,
Mary Ann

I know where I’m going
And I know who’s going with me;
I know who I love
And my dear knows who I’ll marry.

I have stockings of silk
And shoes of bright green leather,
Combs to buckle my hair,
And a ring for every finger…

Feather beds are soft,
And painted rooms are bonny,
But I would give them all
For my handsome, winsome Johnny.

Twenty years later, he walked me down the aisle to that song.

Today I painted our spare bedroom a sunny yellow. I love that we own our house and can paint the walls. Painted rooms are bonny.

This is just a sneak peak. The color is a little distorted from the flash; it’s not that obtrusively bright in real life. I have some sunny ideas for this little “spare-oom.” More to come in the following weeks.

Tonight, we are watching The Business of Being Born…more on that later.

Be my rabbit midwife,

Mary Ann

At the library I checked out Moby Dick, which Jesse and I have been reading aloud together using the iBooks app on our phones.  Nothing beats a good old-fashioned, bound and printed book, though.

And now the highlight of my day–my thrifting finds.

First spotted:  vintage-y hand-made vegetables.  Perfect for filling a kid’s play shopping basket…for that kid I don’t have…but I will keep these on hand for when the time comes.

We have tomato, bell pepper, and carrot (for little rabbit)…

And my favorite–King Corn.

I also snagged a couple fun pillows.  These will be used outside, on our porch, when I finally get around to making it my dream outdoor living space.  I’m on the hunt for a couple wooden rockers and a hammock.  When I find these items, I will put these pillows on them, and the wild rumpus will start.

…And these, my dears, are lovely vintage enamel strawberry bowls.  They warm my heart.

The bowls and the pillows actually came from a flea-market style antique store, which might be one of the creepiest places I’ve ever been in.  Old men play cards there.  Not in a cute way, though.  I don’t know what is so deplorably creepy about old men playing cards, but it’s just an air they give off…trust me.  This is the same sort of factually unsound theory as I have about one of our neighbors, who I suspect is a drug dealer.  The source of this particular hunch:  he drives his car a lot at night.  And it makes that loud, intimidating motor sound…he’s definitely selling.

And who could forget this little number?  Fried egg magnet.

That’s a wrap.  I went for a run today in this infernal weather and probably lost about 17 pounds in sweat, so now I’m going to make a batch of brownies.  Something you might not know about me:  when I was a teenager, I majorly binged at night.  Okay, I still do…sporadically.  Once I made a whole strawberry cake, tiptoeing around the kitchen quiet as a little binge-eating mouse, ate it, and destroyed the evidence.  Also I hid pop tarts in my closet.  Cool.

I’m training for a half-marathon and I will eat at least three brownies tonight,

Mary Ann

(This one bled because I decorated it too soon after smoothing it with a hot, wet spatula.  These aren’t typical results, unless it’s 2:30 A.M. on your birthday and you’re determined to decorate your own birthday cake while your husband is pleading with you, tearfully begging for you to just go to sleep.  He doesn’t understand that this is no time for the voice of reason; there are garlands and shells and stars to be made before you’re actually twenty-three.)

I’m working on creating an almost all organic, local or fair-trade cake.  For now, though, this icing contains a cup of Crisco and is the culprit of a heap of recent plumbing problems. I have to go eat a spoon full of it now while I read Moby Dick in bed.  Then I’ll go for a long run tomorrow…tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.

Your bona fide cake artisan,

Mary Ann

I decided to split up the room with this cubby-style shelving unit.  I bought this piece for next to nothing from a friend at a moving sale just after we were married.  We painted it the same color as the walls in the living room.

This little nook contains most of my favorite books, arranged in the order I read them, starting with late middle school, ending with last month.  I love books.  I love words and writing and reading, and the sheer beauty of books.  Here is my small antique collection, started when I was in high school.

Another method we employed to divide the room was painting the dining area a different color.  In this case we chose a nice buttery yellow.

Here you mainly see the living room, where we are currently assembling an Alice in Wonderland puzzle.  Alice is Jesse’s favorite name, because Alice in Wonderland is one of his favorite books, which is the kind of thing that makes me love him.  It’s also my paternal grandmother’s first name, making it a serious contender for one of our future little rabbits.

The other portion of the room is where we eat and play games, two of our favorite activities.  I’m currently creaming Jesse in an ongoing Boggle tournament.

And this–this is where the magic happens.

So many of my favorite things are featured in this set of photos.  All the instruments are special; the banjo was a graduation present for Jesse from my parents, the cello is the one I learned on in high school, and the mandolin was purchased for me by my dad when I was fourteen, right when my family started homeschooling, so that we could have a family band.  We were called the Home Grown String Band, and we played mostly old folk songs and Trio covers.  We were pretty hard core.

Then you see the bench, which I bought at an antique store during the time I was reading Cranford, which was definitely the inspiration for buying such a piece.  I felt like I could sit on it and have afternoon tea with Miss Mattie.  On the bench are two more treasures:  a blanket made by a lovely family member from the wool of my uncles’ sheep, and a hand-etched leather album depicting The Three Graces, purchased in Florence on a trip with aforesaid uncles.

And then there’s this tiny chair, which serves no purpose whatsoever, and did not come from Florence but a thrift store in glamorous Knoxville.  I love it.

And, of course, the things in these photos closest to my heart:  Butter Bean and Uncle Andrew, fat old man dog and crippled cat, respectively.  Light of my life.

That’s it for tonight.  If you’d like to pay me money to make your house look this happy, please, be my guest.  Livestock not included.

Love from the rabbit hole,

Mary Ann

I look forward to attending a game when the season kicks off–mostly because there will be nachos.

My husband’s a creeper and I’m a fat kid,

Mary Ann

Jesse and I bought our first home in the quaint and cozy Sherwood Forest neighborhood about a month and a  half ago, and have since been loving it.  Well, mostly.  There have been a few glitches:  the circa 1970 Roper stove died on us on day two, the garbage disposal has clogged a couple times, our bathtub had a small hole in it, and currently our plumbing involves several five-gallon buckets, but we’re getting though it.  Overall, we’re loving it.

We live on a quiet, hilly street in a 1940′s stucco cottage.  We have one very sociable neighbor, Calvin, who is seventy years old, almost completely deaf, and is probably building a robot.  He is a scrap metal enthusiast.  Jesse told Calvin I was a nurse assistant.  Big mistake.  About a week into our neighborly relationship, he asked me to change the bandage on his recently removed cist.  He told me about his bowels, then his brother’s bowels, then his cat’s.  His cat’s name is Leo.  Jesse and I have a theory that this is homage to Leo Tolstoy, like the concierge in one of our favorite books, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and that Calvin is a closet philosopher.

Our other neighbors are a surprising mix of piano tuners, Julliard-invited cellists, Vietnam veterans, photographers, and one crazy lady who we’ve been warned about but have yet to have the pleasure of meeting.

Here is our new rabbit hole, before we settled in:

So there you have it–our little hearth and home.  I’ll be posting shots of different areas of the house now that we’ve painted and decorated, as well as projects and ideas and general merriment in our new, beloved rabbit hole, where we will breed like rabbits, and make little rabbits, to whom we will read I Am A Little Rabbit.

Your Rabbit Wife,

Mary Ann

This was the first Sunday Greg’s been gone since his resignation two weeks ago. Some committed volunteers stepped up to guide the music team in his absence, but a palpable nervous feeling measured heavy on the minds of those of us behind the scenes this morning. As I know the story, Greg elevated the service from a church with good intentions to a church with polish. And so the nervous feeling around the church asks, “Who’s going to shine the shoes now?”

That’s a frustrating place to be in because there’s a realization and grief period that everyone who enjoyed the fruits of the last four years has to go through. Working under Greg was a training ground for me as I learned the ropes of the job. It was a great place to participate in a beautiful service for the music and tech teams. Greg has the skill to let people practice, and mess up, yet tie up loose ends and make sure things go well anyway, so the pressure has stayed low on me and others for the past two years.

Today was a day of healing because after a good service I had a brainstorm with three different band members, and already the sadness from this event has been cut by exciting ideas for the future. I’m one for a challenge and I’m looking forward to creating a good Sunday service at Powell Church. With polish. I say, bring on those dirty shoes—I’ve got loads of Kiwi in my office.

I did manage to break the non-functional buttons at the top, so enjoy how that works less now than it did before.

*UPDATE May 3* I’ve fixed all the now-functional banner buttons, with hover effects and all! That has been hanging me up for a while (it’s a small detail that I had no experience implementing). Next two big goals: fix the “categories” view (click on one of the now functioning links and enjoy the broken layout) and then create a functioning sidebar with image snippets and better navigation features.

Does it look good?