Quirky, Cozy and Completely Me
I sometimes find myself admiring those farmhouse, minimal, neutral homes—you know the ones. Clean lines, pristine spaces, not a speck of dirt, and nothing that Aunt Linda “lovingly” passed along when you got married 20+ years ago. Everything has its place, and nothing feels out of order. Sounds dreamy, right?
But that’s not me. That’s not my house. Not even close.
The problem is twofold:
One: I love thrifting, and vintage treasures always seem to find their way back into my home.
Two: I have teenage boys and a dog. Enough said.
The moment I entertain the idea of adding even one neutral-colored pillow, someone spills soy sauce or salsa. I could buy those adorable wooden pizza boards, and they’d end up being used for BBQ or as snack trays carted off to bedrooms. It’s like buying fancy towels for the guest bathroom—they won’t stay pristine for long.
But what I do have is what I like to call colorful comfort. Every chair invites you to sit and stay awhile. Every plate and dish is either vintage or old enough to be considered vintage. My kitchen is quirky, a space where family and friends naturally gather. Little corners of my home showcase my grandmother’s beautiful crochet work, framed and cherished. Milk glass peeks out from between stacks of books. My mother’s sewing box lives in the living room, and the large wooden table I grew up with now anchors my own home.
It’s a beautiful mess of old and older, filled with stories and sentimental bits. And if I’m being honest, what would I change?
Not a thing.
