Ethan Allen, Anne Frank and Me

Up waaay too early this a.m. with a bladder to thank.

I rested on the living room couch...unheard of, I know, 

an insurance man wasn't even visiting...

well, I thought about my surroundings and furnishings.

Would my childhood self, who tucked ideas of her future grown-up home into boxes and folders...

be happy or even satisfied with what the grown-up girl did with 

her home? 

She didn't care a lot about being content because 

where is the dream in that? 

She had loftier 

ideas about a perfect abode. 

And her influences then? 

Everyone in the family collected antiques. 

Straight across the board. 

That girl had plans for an Early American home, 

sans eagle embellished magazine rack. 

*shudder* 

Although, she devoured copies of House Beautiful

which surely had mirrored coffee tables 

mixed with bamboo fern stands 

and travelly items from abroad...

And she was never more confused than when 

walking through the local 

Ethan Allen gallery which went on 

endlessly above our small 

town's family owned department 

store. 

New furniture went together

oh-so-nicely and it wouldn't be 

SO bad having a reproduction

copper weathervane on the

new store-bought 

armoire, would it? 

Later, college dorm life was a RUDE

awakening to say the least...

bean bag chair, 

desk, 

bed. 

Dream rolled over and died. 

Anne Frank and me? 

Parallel lives. 

NOW the girl was better prepared to

appreciate most anything in the realm

of home furnishings as it would be

a brighter future than that 

dismal dorm

room. 

Not to mention the "lucky 13" roommates that 

waltzed in and out of her life from the time she left 

home until she married...

She cross-stitched her way through life

while thoughts of a career, any career fell to the wayside :)

Turns out she wasn't a corporate climbing gal. 

She had a husband to find and a house to 

fill :)

I decided it didn't matter at all what that 

young girl desired,

contentment came on schedule...

along with sentimental things from several

branches of his family and mine.

And in the wee hours on the 

living room couch? 

Everything was rosy

and perfect. 

Three healthy and good-looking sons 

slept peacefully and daddy kissed mama

goodbye as he gaily skipped to work.

You didn't buy THAT did you? 

Well, everything was spot-on except for 

the skipping. 

He was happy though. 

Probably because his wife isn't wishing

to go to the Ethan Allen gallery today. 

Ethan can keep his eagle. 

I'm good.