new year's eve, brought to you by...

... squishy sleep face and the cutest Corgi of all time giving me face snuggles.  When we got home from the evening's festivities I immediately shed my heels and sparkle dress and slipped into a flannel and some jammie pants and apparently passed out on the couch.  I didn't even know Dusty did this until Dan showed me these photos he took a couple days later.  I seriously can't handle how cute this dog is on a daily basis, it kills me.  

OUR HOME // bedroom tour

Let's get 2014 started, shall we?  

I've finally finished up decorating our bedroom, and it's probably my favorite room in the house now.  I wanted something rustic and masculine, super cozy and warm.  When I found the wood panel removable wallpaper on

WallsNeedLove.com

I knew it'd be the perfect base for a warm and rustic room, and also would be easy to change if I ever wanted to go in a different direction in the future.  As with the entire house, this room was painted beige, so adding the wall paper added a ton of drama and warmth.  I wasn't really worried with the room being too dark, since we don't spend a lot of time in our bedroom during the day, so I decided to paint the other walls dark charcoal, actually the exact same color as the exterior.  I wanted to keep a bit of texture and variation in there, though, so I only painted one coat and brushed it on freestyle with a large, coarse paintbrush.  I

really

love the effect this created.

One of my favorite things in the room is the rug on the stairs.  I have a similar rug that I got a few years ago, and I went back to the same roadside shop and got this one over Thanksgiving weekend.  The stairs look like the used to be carpeted and are just plywood with paint, so they're pretty boring and basic.  I took some small nails and carefully nailed the rug down so it wouldn't move.  In retrospect I think I might've glued it down first as well, but we'll see how well it holds up and if it ends up moving or the nails rip out.  It was a fun way to quickly and easily transform a boring set of stairs, though!

The green leafy wall decor is actually something that has been in our family for a while.  There are family photos of my mom as a little kid with it hanging over the couch behind them.  It's a set of two, and I have one and my mom has the other, I think it's hanging over her bed.  It's one of my favorite family heirlooms.  

Dan and I were kind of appalled at how expensive bedside tables were, even at Ikea!  We needed something, though, to put our phones and books on, so we found these TV trays at Target, I think they were like 9 bucks, and have been using them.  Since they don't have any storage I put a box and a basket under mine to hold books and other things.

The "sconces" sitting on top our headboard are actually just little table lamps that used to sit on our bedside tables, but they took up a lot of room.  Once I put the pallets up as our headboard I realized that they could easily sit right on top of the pallets!  I love their warm glow and they're just right for laying in bed and reading a book.

I liked the pallets on their own, but they felt a little plain, so I dug out some of our old wedding decor and put up this little tassel garland I made a couple years ago.  It's a little bit feminine, but not so much that it throws off the vibe of the room.  There are a lot of geometric shapes in the room, so the tassels soften it up a bit.

For a while I couldn't decide what to put on the "wood" wall, but after thinking about it I figured a collage would work perfectly.  I didn't have a place for our hand painted portraits and a lot of other more rustic art that we have, since the rest of the house had a bit more of a modern and graphic feel.  Everything on the wall is either hand made, thrifted, or is something handed down from family.  The 3D topographic map is a kitschy little frame we snagged from Dan's parents' house when they were moving.  It's a map of Mt. Rainier, and since we went up there for our honeymoon I put photos from our honeymoon, engagement, and wedding in the four little photo frames.  

Dusty decided she wanted to be in photos and snuggled on the rug almost the whole time I took photos.  She's a fan of fuzzy things and has claimed this rug as her personal bed.

I've tried to itemize as many things in the room as I could at the bottom of this post!

quilt

/

urban outfitters

:: 

metal basket

/fred meyer

nightstand (tv tray) + wood cake stand + wood tray on nightstand/

target

sheepskin rug + curtains + pillowcase + woven box under nightstand /ikea 

iphone charger stand + wood sconces/modcloth :: 

sketched pillow

/

karli ingersoll

diamond terrarium

 +

black/bronze vase

 +

feather vessel

/moorea seal

leaf wall hanging/vintage family heirloom :: chair/found on side of road

rug on stairs + dream catcher/roadside shop near Sequim

all other wall hangings/handmade, thrifted, or family heirloom

removable wood wallpaper

/courtesy of

wallsneedlove.com

restless heart.

The year is ending in a few short days and I feel on the precipice of the unknown.  I have no clue what the new year will hold.  I don't have any big plans, but I'm in the mood for change.  What kind of change, I'm not sure, but I'm restless.  I have some goals for 2014, some big, most relatively small.  Aimless restlessness is an obnoxious sort.  I would prefer restlessness with a clear aim in sight, rather than a general feeling with not much direction.  I think this time of year precipitates this kind of aimless restlessness, though, so I'm not to distressed about it.  The new year, with all its talk of resolutions and recollecting the successes and achievements of the past year makes for a prime environment for restlessness.  
While restlessness is accompanied with stomach knots and uneasiness, I am glad for it in some ways.  Usually when I feel restless I have a strong urge to simplify life.  To purge all the unnecessary clutter and get down to what really matters.  I suppose that is all in an effort to find some clarity.  To weed out all the excess voices, all the dust accumulating in the corners of one's mind and surroundings, and to seek out the still, small voice of truth.

 

dress/marshalls :: shirt/courtesy of ruche :: tights/fred meyer :: boots/courtesy of blowfish hat + bracelet/courtesy of lulu's :: necklaces/courtesy of adorn by sarah lewis photos by Dan
In 2014 I want to go on a kind of proverbial soul seeking journey.  I don't really need to physically go anywhere, it's more of an inward journey towards finding why I matter.  I've always had trouble extricating my job or career from who I am as a person.  I want, maybe need, the two to align, which is one reason I've never pulled the trigger on opening a retail shop, even though I've thought it would be fun and something I might actually enjoy.  I just don't feel like I'd find fulfillment when it came to the fact that I was simply one more shop where people buy things, spend money on stuff that they probably don't really need all that much, and contribute to the wastefulness of American culture.  I suppose that sounds overly dramatic, but it's my thought process when I think about opening a retail shop.  I go through various similar thought processes when I think about different career moves, or just personal decisions and goals.  I will fully admit to probably over-thinking things.  So it goes. 
Anyways, soul seeking journeys.  I've always felt led by Frederick Buechner's quote, "Your vocation is where your greatest passion meets the world's greatest need" but have never really found where that intersection meets.  It could be due to having too many passions and not feeling like I have enough energy to do all of them.  Another relevant quote? "You can do anything, but not everything." (David Allen).  I've always wished I could live many lives, picking a different career or vocation for each, rather than being stuck living one life and being forced to pick which things I want to do during my time on Earth, and which ones I have to let go of.  At the same time, I know that I have (hopefully) many years ahead of me, and I don't need to do just one thing my whole life.  I can reinvent my life, my goals, my career, at any point throughout my life.  There's a lot of pressure on 20-somethings to have everything figured out, have a career, a spouse, etc, but it's important to realize that that's not entirely realistic all the time, and self worth isn't dependent on whether or not I'm working toward becoming a CEO, or getting my Ph.D., or becoming a mother.  I have plenty of time to do those things.  Maybe all of them, maybe none, or maybe other things I haven't even thought of yet.  

 

siren song.

I've been riding a wave the past year, and I feel like I've reached the crest.  I want to go home, which is a broader sentiment than I feel those five words communicate.  I heard the siren's song in the distant hum of a small prop plane floating above as I walk Dusty this morning.  It's a sound I've heard my whole life, but these days it's a rare pleasure steeped in nostalgia rather than a daily soundtrack.  Growing up on the shores of Alaskan lakes, not a day went by that wasn't punctuated by the shrill buzz of a plane taking off, or the soft whirr as one landed.  We had our own small plane, a Cessna 180, which was parked at the dock at the bottom of the hill behind our house.  As the oldest child, I was the one put in charge of certain float plane duties.  I was the one who pumped the floats to make sure any water that had leaked in, either from rain or lake water seeping in during take-off or landing, didn't add extra weight to our flight.  Stopping a float plane at a dock involves cutting the prop close enough to the dock that you drift in, but far enough that you slow down enough to not slam into it.  It also involves jumping off the floats as soon as you can hop to the dock in order to catch the plane's struts and stop the forward motion.  I loved these duties.  I felt strong and important and capable, even if they were duties that were relatively simple.


 

In the winter, planes kept outdoors needed to be covered to ensure that ice and snow did as little damage as possible.  Snow also needed to be kept off the wings, otherwise the weight would snap them.  In more recent years our plane has been kept indoors in a hangar, but I vividly remember going with my Dad in our Toyota Landcruiser to the airfield to sweep snow off the wings.  One year there was so much snow that the pile the plows had made was taller than the planes.  I spent more time scaling the mountain of snow than helping, that time.  Planes also needed a cover on the engine, in order to keep the engine warm enough to start.  I always thought those looked like giant sleeping bags for planes.  I remember helping Dad lash the covers down, bringing the elastic straps with plastic balls on the ends to fit in their little nooses.

Tacoma doesn't have a lot of small plane traffic.  The planes I hear most often these days are C-17s on final approach to the nearby Air Force/Army base airstrip.  Every once in a while, though, I'll hear the familiar buzz of a small plane and intensely miss sitting in the kitchen watching planes land on the frozen lake.
photos from my Dad

on the outside looking in

This past weekend I was in Sitka, AK to surprise my grandparents with a big family gathering for Christmas.  All of their children were there, and all of the grandchildren, save one, were also present.  I wonder what it must be like to be in the December of one's life, surrounded by the family you created.  I feel blessed beyond words for this family.  So many families are plagued by death, illness, family feuds, divorce, or some other schism which has fractured the family and made family gatherings less than joyous.  While our family is certainly not immune to familial strife, there is an overwhelming sense of love and peace amidst the multi-generational gathering.  It is a shame that I missed out on so many years of my grandparents, due to being young and not understanding their significance and fascinating lives, as well as living a plane flight away which limits visits significantly.

Now they're into their 90's and I wish I had as many years ahead with them as I have behind.  I'm seeking out ways which I can continue to commune with them, even if they end up passing on soon, through taking the baton on their projects.  Both my grandma and grampa were rather creative people.  My grandma hand illustrated dozens of publications, from official nurse midwife childbirth guides for remote native Alaskan villages to yearly christmas cards and family announcements.  My grampa carved bowls, spoons, plant vases, napkin holders, and could make nearly anything.  For one of my childhood christmases he made me a mobile closet for my american girl doll (Samantha).  Another christmas he gave us all scale models of a dog sled which he made exactly how a full size version would be made, only about a food long.Their house is full of his little boxes and spoons, and so is mine.  As I sit here typing, a plant grows out of one of his hanging basket containers, decorated with carved Tlingit designs on each side.

I've been wanting to start carving spoons, as he did for decades, and recently found a pair of salad utensils at the thrift store to start experimenting with carving.  One of his "famous" designs is a pair of salad utensils with a fish carved into the end of each handle.  Every member of my family has one.  I received mine as a wedding gift and he's made ones for the other grandkids too, just in case he doesn't live long enough to see their weddings.  While in Sitka I found a whole box of salad spoons and forks he carved from scratch.  In the box were two drawings my grandma had done which were intended to be wood burned into the handles.  A dog sled for one of the set, and a native in a kayak spearing a whale for the other.  Grampa let me take them with me to finish.  His eyes are now too bad to carve any more.

Coming back to Tacoma I feel a little bit like a fish out of water.  I've never been able to shake the feeling that my home will always be the Last Frontier.  Going back is like sinking into the warm water of a most perfect hot spring, enveloping me with the feeling that I am where I have always belonged.  Perhaps it is more fierce because Alaska truly does flow through my veins.  I didn't grow up anywhere near the village where my people spent centuries fishing, but in many ways Alaska feels like one big village, especially in comparison to living "Outside."  I never thought much about that term, which all Alaskans are familiar with, which describes anywhere outside of Alaska, usually the Lower 48.  But when you are "Outside" and you come back to Alaska it does feel a bit like you were outside in the cold and you are stepping back into the warmth of your cozy home.