If my husband leaves me tomorrow, I blame the chandelier. I won’t hold a grudge against it, but it will definitely receive every side-eye I have to give from now on. It will suspend above my dining room table mockingly reminding me of my overwhelming desire to leap before I look. Of course, it’s not the chandelier’s fault. It’s 100%, unwaveringly my fault. I cannot contain myself sometimes and this time was no different.
As I mentioned last week, after years of suffering from an invisible illness, possible misdiagnosis and generally turning into an 80-year-old in a 30ish okay, almost 40ish body, I have finally found an answer to my achy woes. I am now officially in the gluten-free club. I’m actually far more excited than I should be, mostly because I saw and felt significant improvement in just one week. I know it sounds like as seen on TV line, but it’s true.
I am a fabric addict. Prints and textures call out to me begging me to create something fabulous with them. I tend to lean toward practical, but I do love a good dose of whimsy. I long to sit in my house and just make wonderful silly things I find on Pinterest. I blame my mother. She will tell you this is no surprise…the blaming part, not the addiction part.