Not House People

When describing us to others, the hub has a list of names for this partnership. One is that we are "not house people."

What that means may be up to you but what HE means is that, although we live in a house, actually a very nice, large, older house, we don't pay much mind to much here beyond cleaning, and in busy times, we choose to keep our chins parallel with the ground.

You might expect that clutter and stuff diminish when the kiddies move out. Not for us. As we get older, we need more notes, more directions, more stuff on horizontal surfaces; it DOES cut down on the need for decorative touches. Some of our clutter consists of items that make this our home: guitars and amplifiers fill several corners of living space; model sailboats perch here and there; trophies and diplomas; well-used recliners by tables with lights; a chess set in mid-match; photo albums that seem to find their way out and never back in.

We have friends who are house people. They live in those professionally decorated places that always seem to have fresh flowers on tables, in sparkling vases. The accessory pillows match; they can find their coasters; clutter is banished so you can see the lovely marble, tile, and chrome and those interesting pieces of art that are arranged thoughtfully. Colors are startling.
These are the houses you'd expect to see in magazines.

Or perhaps you've seen those photos in Architectural Digest of grand homes in grand places. Over the years, the hub on occasion would pour over such pictures and say, "Wow. I'd love to live there."

But where would he put all his stuff? These places don't seem to collect stuff. In fact, I often feel that they look like no one lives there.

We live in our home. No, make that WE LIVE LIVE IN OUR HOME.

So it is with mixed feelings on our part that our home will be featured in next month's Howard County Living, a glossy publication that displays all the glories of life in mid north Indiana.

I have a wonderful circle of friends who have been to my house. When I shared this news with them, almost all said with surprise, "Really?" And then backtracked with what a pretty color my living room is.

They also have seen the houses that look unlived in. "Hmmmmm," they mull. "What an interesting editorial decision."

The exception to this reaction came from two friends: Sandra who lives in happy exclamation point land and Fran, the lady who is my color expert person. Sandra has the gift for finding the excitement in any situation; Fran can look at a printed fabric, pick out an obscure paint color, and in decorator terms, make the fabric POP.

If you who know us are still scratching your heads, I'll try to explain. The angle of the story is that we have pieces of furniture than Mike has made that we use. The editors find that fascinating. Newest to our collection are my desk and chair. I've been assured that the photos will be selective. I don't have to take them into my laundry dungeon.

(Note: even if I had my house decorated, I believe I'd stay with the dungeon motiff in the laundry room. Form fits function...something like that.)

I think they will also take the photographer out to Mike's workshop to let the world (of mid north Indiana) in on his latest project, a gorgeous walnut table with a drawer. Shhhhh. It's a gift.

We are making some sweeps through the house. I set the dining rooms table with our pretties, as though we were going to sit down to a fine meal. We 'neated up' the guitars and amps but they're staying out among home-made furniture.

Add this to the list of things we never considered we would do. You'll want a copy, I'm sure.