Someone asked me recently if I could repost this Quick Decorating Idea List for them again (so that they could print it out and add it to their design inspiration folder). So, just for Dottie, here it is….. For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

Just in case you didn’t know, this week (Thursday, September 12th, 2019) brings us yet another round of scintillating Democratic Presidential Debates… It seems like just a few days ago that I watched the first twenty Presidential hopefuls (or was it more?) fill the stage with their boring, new suits and their desperate need to be seen and heard. Last time, I taped all six hours; determined to be involved in deciding the future of our country, and wanting to make sure that I was good and ready for when I stepped behind the dark blue curtain at the local polling booth next year. But, four minutes in, I found myself staring at a tall man, vaguely aware that he was speaking, but had no idea what he was saying, or who he was. If you had put him in a line-up shortly afterwards, I couldn’t have identified him or remembered what he said. Yes, it was that bad. So, I paused the debate, grabbed a drawer from my kitchen, and tipped it out onto the coffee table. As I sifted through the contents, I began to watch the debate again. Random thoughts about why I had three sets of measuring cups (doesn’t everyone who bakes?) combined with amusement at some of the answers on stage, and the not-so-subtle “dog and pony” show that had them all trotting out together, on their best behavior, but still wanting to be the shiniest star. I have to confess, even with my decluttering distraction, I still couldn’t quite watch all six hours of the debates. But I watched most of it, and in just two short nights I was able to contemplate our future and organize all my kitchen and living room drawers. So, if like me, you’re kind of dreading this Thursday night, but you also can’t quite stop yourself from staring at the screen, just grab a glass of wine, empty out some overstuffed drawers from the kitchen, and enjoy some good, old-fashioned decluttering with your debate… For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

Fourteen years ago, my daughter and I started celebrating Mother’s Day by ourselves. With an emotionally chaotic home life, and a daily uncertainty about where our journey was taking us, that one Sunday in May became the most comforting day of the year for me. It would begin with total indulgence (usually crepes with treacle syrup and endless cups of tea) then move on to a day of television, lots of talking, and all kinds of delicious food. We would prepare for days in advance, with my daughter writing down her wish-list, and both of us looking forward to blocking out the world for one, blissful day of peace and quiet. No upsetting phone calls or heart-stopping letters in the mail, just she and I indulging ourselves in the simplicity of being mother and daughter. We would cook together, play board games, stay in pajamas, and anything else that had made it onto my daughter’s carefully folded piece of red construction paper. She was only 5 when we began to do this, and it instantly became our new, family tradition; it was the one that we looked forward to each year, and friends and family knew that we wouldn’t answer the telephone or leave our house on that day. It was just meant to be for us. It reminded us of what was good in the world, the importance of family, and that as long as we had each other we would be okay. For me, it was also a day of comfort – a day of self-care, and a reminder that we really all just want (and need) the same, simple things in life – we want to feel loved, and we need other people to love and care for us. As the years went on, we never once wavered in our tradition, and absolutely no-one was ever allowed to share our special day together. Until this year… A new love, and his family, were welcomed into our home this past Mother’s Day. With barely a hesitation, we invited them in, and had a wonderful day filled with food, lots of talk. and a cozy fire in our living room. No longer feeling the need to cling to each other, holding onto the emotional security of our annual Sunday, I realized that we (I?) had quietly stopped being afraid of what we might lose, and had begun to celebrate all that we had been given … For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

Hi! I hope you’re all doing well and have had a wonderful summer! Not quite sure how it went so quickly, but it was a good one, filled with lots of happy days and peaceful nights. As many of you know, I am always reluctant to change when the weather does – yes, I love seeing the colors change on the leaves and feeling the cool air at night when I sleep, but the concept of  swapping out my clothes and adding coats and scarves still escapes me. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a more moderate climate, maybe it’s just silly stubbornness or a case of the lazies – not sure which, but it’s a bugger when you go outside and realize that a cute t-shirt is no longer enough and your bare toes are cringing as they touch the cold ground. This last week had me scrambling for a sweater and wondering why on earth I only had one pair of jeans. It was chilly, but the days beautiful and the night sky as clear as something out of a storybook. That single, cold day led to a chaotic evening as I decided to clean out my closet and scrambled to swap out my summer skirts and make room for sweater dresses and my beloved boots. For many things in design, it has to be a process. You need to think about the outcome, plan your time accordingly and just know it is going to take longer than you ever thought. But when it comes to my clothes, all the nice organizing ideas in the world go out the window and it becomes a lesson in necessity and speed. Being short on storage means I don’t have the luxury of days spent sorting them into piles and trying every single thing on, but it does mean that I am very motivated 🙂 And, I have to be resourceful – my bed becomes my sorting center and my tiny closet kindly expands to absorb as much as it possibly can. The only other thing I have is a small dresser and a few drawers under my bed that store my off-season clothes. It’s not fancy, but it works (and it helps to curb my e-bay buying habit because space is so limited and precious). Because I am always short on time lately, I just had a few hours to get it all done, so here’s what I did. Turned the music on (Funky 70’s Pandora station). Dressed in an old t-shirt and leggings. All my summer stuff was taken out of the drawers and closet then put in a big pile on the bed. My winter clothes were pulled out of the drawers and put in another big pile. I sorted the winter clothes into two piles – “love-can’t wait to wear it” and “meh”. The “love-can’t wait to wear it” pile got sorted into sweater dresses, sweaters and long-sleeved thingys. All of which went into my drawers (the sweater dresses can be rolled up). The “meh” pile went on my office floor. I later tried things on and donated most of it. The summer clothes that had nowhere to go and needed to stay in the closet went to the far left and the winter clothes that had to go in the closet went in the center and right hand side (sectioned by blouses, long-sleeved, fancy, date-night etc). The other summer clothes (t-shirts, dresses etc) went into the drawers under my bed. Leggings, jeans and skirts stayed in my dresser, with the summer ones underneath the winter ones. Within three hours, I was happily tired, and both me and my tiny closet were ready for cooler days and excited for lots of wonderful, boot-wearing weather! For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

When I got divorced, it was rare. I remember writing letters to my daughter’s teacher’s to tell them about it; making sure that she was okay and constantly checking for signs that she might need help – wanting to make sure that her life stayed as normal as possible amid the turmoil. I spent years cleaning up the messes that it caused, reassuring the people that we loved, and spending a lot of time apologizing for the disruption that it brought into other people’s lives. I was determined to not throw any shade and make sure everyone, including us, was okay. But divorce is never kind. It takes a while to move through it, and one of the things I learned was that my home truly was my anchor. That role couldn’t be filled by another person or my child, but it could be filled by the warm place where I curled up to sleep and dream at the end of the day. Because that was all I could control. And it was easy. Years later, my home is still my perpetual safety net, and I often wonder why others don’t do the same thing. With divorce more common than ever, families are blending into all sorts of unusual concoctions. Some are brilliant, and they work like a dream – the family tree being a hilarious mess of people, all intertwined in a bizarre melting pot that seamlessly bends and wraps around each other. Others are complicated, and, at their worst, sad and uncomfortable, but whichever you have there has to be a blending of homes and people. I always thought that blending homes meant a compromise of possessions. A grown-up game of sharing and giving in to the others quirks; an endless array of joint shopping experiences that ended with a bland, classical pallet that provoked neither love nor hate, just a shrug and an acceptance that this was how it was meant to be. Now, I don’t believe this. I think when we join homes with someone new, our homes should still give us joy, and they should still be an anchor. We should be able to keep what we love, and accept what the other person has, with some serious editing thrown in for good measure. In a way, one plus one equals three – yours, mine and ours. Why should both have to give up what they have, and lose what they love so dearly, to make someone else happy in the grown-up game of compromise? It goes against the whole theory of your home being your haven, and whereas I think compromise should happen in other ways, more emotional ways, your stuff and all your funny idiosyncrasies, should be allowed to remain your own. So, how do you do it? How do you merge two homes into one? You each take what you absolutely love, and you make it work. It’s like the most fabulous design job in the world – everything goes in the middle of the room, and you just move things around, and decorate until you’re all exhausted. Create your own rooms (or pockets of spaces if you have to) where you promise not to mess with what the other one has. Ask first. Don’t assume you can organize it for them, or that you can make it look “better”. Choose and buy a few new things together. Items that have no attachment to previous lives or ex people. If it matters, talk about it. If it doesn’t, don’t. Find out what is important to the other person, and why. This helps you understand why they’re keeping it, even if you don’t agree with the “why”. Talk about it outside of the house, not when you’re both looking at the space and items in question. It’s hard to be objective when you’re in the middle of it all – go for coffee or lunch, to chat about it before you start. Try to keep a sense of humor about it all. If things get tense, try to look at the funny side of it, and, if necessary, always poke fun at yourself rather than the other person. Remember, at the end of the day, creating a “home” is always more important than the stuff we choose to have in it 🙂 For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/ #Blendedfamilies #creatingahome #decoratingahome #homeafterdivorce

I wrote this poem six years ago. More of a journal than a poem, it was remembering a time when my daughter was quite young, and someone asked me what I did all day. At first, I couldn’t answer them, because being a mom isn’t a defined job description with rules and timelines; it’s a chaotic juggle of unexpected moments where there is lots of wonderful advice, but no right answer, often just reactions and a determination to get things done. So, at the end of a particularly long day, I decided to write about it, and that’s where this poem came from. I know that many of you have read it before but it is still very close to my heart, and I wanted to share it with you again. Now, my daughter is almost out of her teens, and I can say that being a mother is still a crazy and wonderful experience, which I wouldn’t trade for all the butter pecan ice cream in the world. It has taught me to love and appreciate the quiet, beautiful moments, to laugh as often as possible, and to always let people, especially our children, be exactly who they are, not who we feel they should be. Wishing you all lots of love and a very Happy Mother’s Day. – Wendy If you give a Mom a minute, she’ll want a cup of tea and a magazine. Reaches for her favorite mug, but starts to unload the dishwasher instead. While putting away the dishes, she rearranges the cupboards. Decides to put some dishes aside for a garage sale. Calls her friend for advice, but forgets to ask about garage sales. Goes to the toilet, and notices the shower is dirty. Sprays and scrubs the shower stall, while she reorganizes the body scrubs and shampoos. Throws away expired medicines, and cleans the bathroom cabinet. This reminds her to call the Doctor for a check up. On the way downstairs to get the telephone number, she notices the floor needs vacuuming. Gets the vacuum cleaner, and sees all of her handbags hanging on the hooks. Distracted, she starts to look inside them. Throws out a a pile of old lists, seventeen hair ties and a melted lollipop. A dirty cigarette packet, but knows she doesn’t smoke. Puzzled, and embarrassed, she remembers picking it up off the lawn months ago. Thoughts of smoky handbags remind her to do the laundry, and she forgets to call the Doctor. As the laundry spins, she begins to tidy the cellar. Makes another pile of things for the garage sale, wondering why on earth she wanted to do one in the first place. The laundry done, she hears a drip, but decides to ignore it. Folds the laundry, opens the mail, and fills the tea kettle with water. As she waits for it to boil, she absentmindedly wonders why the water is still running. Perhaps the washing machine has turned back on, or maybe it is starting to rain. A lot. She hears more noises in the cellar. The cat is crying, and the phone is starting to ring. So she just stops listening. Her child is sick, at school, and must be picked up immediately, if not sooner. Before she hangs up, she is sweetly reminded that tomorrow she has to bring seven dozen sunflower yellow, frosted cupcakes to school. 473 dark blue napkins, 8 dozen bottles of water and 84 handwritten name tags. In black ink, not blue or red. Tomorrow. By 7:30am. It’s Children Appreciation Day. Oh, and don’t forget – no gluten, no sugar, no peanuts, no dairy, no food coloring, and absolutely no mushrooms. She drives to the school, brings her child home, and puts her to bed. With a bucket. Which reminds her of water, and the crying cat. Marooned on a shelf, she finds him calmly watching as the water laps slowly, almost poetically, against the side of her new washing machine. With the cat rescued and her daughter asleep, she turns off the water and fixes the burst pipe herself. The Plumber can wait. She fills the tea kettle with water, finds her favorite cup, drops the teabag in, grabs a magazine, smiles to herself …..and finally takes that minute. Written by Wendy E. Wrzos (Copyright 2012). The photograph is of my daughter, after she had baked her first batch of Butterfly Cakes, and the poem was inspired by Laura Numeroff’s wonderful books for children. For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/ #HappyMothersDay #MothersDayPoem #Poem

Some days don’t always go as planned. I admit, I have been a bit neglectful (okay, a lot neglectful) with some parts of my life lately, but it’s all good stuff, and I just know that one day it will all balance out and it will fit perfectly into the spaces where it is meant to be. Anyway, this one particular morning, a few weeks ago, I was really looking forward to catching up with two of my dearest friends – one in the morning for coffee, and one in the afternoon for a cup of tea. It was important, and I couldn’t wait to get in the house, take a shower and get my day going. So, I arrived home early in the morning, turned the key in the lock….and it wouldn’t open. It has been a little temperamental of late, so I wasn’t concerned at all. Usually a few jiggles does the trick. I could hear the deadbolt click back and forth so I knew that it just needed a bit of coaxing to let me in. Meanwhile, my dog is crying on the other side; waiting for a quick pat on the head, a run outside and his cup of breakfast food. So, I try it over and over – almost convincing myself that perhaps overnight I had forgotten how to open my own front door, but it wouldn’t budge. Not wanting to give up, I went to the garage and grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver, sure I could just pop the lock. Surprisingly, that didn’t work, and neither did throwing myself against the door like a raving lunatic. Not to be daunted, I grabbed the hammer and slowly waded through the thigh-high snow to the back door (hard to believe, but we had over two feet of snow quite recently). My thoughts of prying open the door, or climbing through a window, quickly became laughable as I realized my house was locked up tight and I wasn’t about to squeeze my very ample bottom through a window any time soon. Fortunately, a call to the local locksmith had him out in an hour, everything was replaced in record time, and I could happily get on with my day. But, a week of barely being home meant that my house did not look very clean and welcoming on that cold, Spring morning. It looked dusty, and, once again, there was that neglected word dancing around in my head, laughing and teasing me with its free-spirited taunting. But, there was no time to clean. I literally pulled a brush through my hair, put on lip-gloss and left the house again. Several hours later I arrived home ten minutes before my friend arrived, and this is what I did in ten minutes. Opened up the windows to freshen everything up. Grabbed everything off the kitchen table, wiped it down and tipped my glass of water into a nearby plant. Moved the few dishes from the sink to the dishwasher. Checked the toilet was clean and wiped the counter with a wet glob of toilet paper. Turned the tea kettle on, grabbed some clean cloth napkins and put a couple of chocolate biscuits on a pretty plate. Y’see, cleaning up doesn’t have to be an all or nothing gig – a little something is always better than a whole lot of nothing 🙂 For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

So, after last month’s blog, I got a few requests for some decorating ideas – quick things that people can do to cheer up their home (especially during these drab, Winter months) without spending a lot of time or money. For this week, no-one wants me to wander down some random path of thoughts, pontificating about something abstract that takes too long to read. And, honestly, I love that! I love it when reader’s (and friends) tell me what they want me to write about, and when they share their thoughts and ideas with me. Please never hesitate to make suggestions, or ask me to write about your favorite dilemma or topic. But, until I hear from you, here’s a quick list of some things that you can do. Wishing you the happiest of years! With love and a hug, – Wendy For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/ #Decoratingyourhome #fresheningupyourhome #happyhomeideas #quickdecoratingfixes

Some days, I can’t write about decorating ideas, but my head is still filled with observations of life, and the most infinitesimal, yet joyful thoughts that happen inside us every single day. Here is one of mine. I was in the car dealership earlier this year, waiting to get my car checked, when I noticed that someone had left a newspaper on the chair next to me, and the magazines (all about automobiles and sports, not a feminine thing to be seen) were scrunched in an almost impossible pile of paper mess on the table. The guy before me had also left his empty, paper coffee cup there; pretending to ignore the garbage can a few feet away, as he rushed off to his haircut appointment (he actually told me he was in a hurry to get his oil changed because he had a haircut appointment, which made me smile). After a few minutes, I was the only one there, and I tried not to look at the mess laid out in front of me. I watched the morning show on the television, and pretended to be really interested in what percentage of people showered every day, and how John Cena had proposed to his girlfriend last night during a wrestling match, but I still couldn’t stop looking at the pile of papers. Eventually, I thought that if I grabbed one of the magazines, I could accidentally straighten the pile in the process; who the heck accidentally straightens a pile? Me. So, I picked up a magazine and casually straightened the first pile at the same time (so nervous in my self-perceived, organizing insanity, that my bottom almost missed the chair when I hastily went to sit down again). My eyes went back to the television, as I wondered what type of coffee had been in the cup, and how long it would sit there before someone tidied it up. I thought of bringing some magazines from home, for the women to read while they waited for their own cars to be fixed, and if I should offer to answer the phone as I heard it ring endlessly then go to voice mail. I sat there, wanting to help and wanting to clean up (first impressions and all that) until I heard fast heavy footsteps behind me. While I was lost in my thoughts, the mechanic had flung open the door, and was now sitting down next to me. And he was calling me “Ma’am”. He was barely a few years older than me, and I had just been “Ma’am”ed. My thoughts turned to the extra ten pounds I had put on, the frumpy skirt I was wearing, and the fact that I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours last night, and I suddenly felt every inch a “Ma’am”. Feeling as if I had just aged a decade in just a few seconds, I said a polite thank you and paid the bill. As I sadly walked to the door, I looked back up at John Cena on the television, beaming broadly at his new fiancee; the Ma’am comment had stung a little, but I realized in that moment that they were just words, and they hadn’t actually changed me into someone else. I was still me. So, I flipped my hair back, turned myself around, straightened the mess on the table, threw the coffee cup into the bin, and smiled at the man behind the counter as I waved him a cheerful goodbye. p.s. Thank you to John Cena and Twiggy for being so original, and inspiring me to be the same. For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/

There are a lot of times in our life when we’re told to “fake it until you make it”. I always thought that sounded silly and insincere, until I actually started to try it and began to realize that we can (and do) control our thoughts, which can in turn change how we look at life. But one of the most surprising ways to fake it, is when we are feeling unsettled in our homes. I was contacted once by someone who told me she had just moved into her new home, and didn’t feel that it was comfortable or visitor-worthy. As we talked, I was shocked to learn that she had actually lived there for two years, even though, to her, it felt like she had just moved in. She emailed me photographs, which showed me a house that was so chaotic that it tore at my heart. I couldn’t imagine coming home to that type of environment, and I couldn’t wait for our first appointment. It is a couple of years later, and now that we are friends, I asked her if I could write about her experience. I promised to get her full approval before I published anything, and she generously agreed. You see, whether we have just moved in to our home, or feel like we have, it is still our home. If we treat it as if it is our most precious possession, it will nurture us, and be a safe haven for us to begin and end every day, because after all, isn’t that what everyone wants? A safe, comfortable place to begin and end every day? So, with that in mind, and the blessing of my design friend, here are some thoughts on what you can do if your home is feeling a little unsettled. Deal With The Boxes Whether you can get rid of them completely, or just stack them all in a single room, don’t have random, unpacked boxes filling odd corners all over the house. Eventually, they just become an unattractive and unnecessary part of the scenery; they blend into your decorations like an old enemy that you haven’t had the courage to unfriend – not hated, but not serving any purpose, and definitely not welcome or pleasant to look at. Buy A LampCeiling lights have their uses, but all the dimmers in the world won’t ever give you the warm, cozy feeling that you are looking for. Buy a lamp or two and put them on a table, or stand them next to your favorite chair. The shadows create interest, and the pockets of light draw you into the space of their glow. Cook A Meal Whether you can cook or not, taking time to prepare something for yourself is a caring thing to do. It forces you to slow down a bit, see your kitchen in a different way, and lose yourself in making something delicious. Try to avoid something that requires the microwave – use a pan just to heat soup if you need to, or make the best grilled cheese sandwich ever. Sit down and eat it on a real plate if you can. Enjoy Where You Are I know this can be easier said than done, but if this is where you are, then you have to make the best of it. This goes back to the fake-it-till-you-make-it comment, but refusing to settle in and enjoy your home because you are waiting or saving for something better isn’t a good strategy. Because what if you never move, or your personal circumstances change when you least expect them to? Delaying happiness is never, ever a good idea, and a great place to begin is by loving your home right this minute, and claiming your space. p.s. As for my design friend?  I am happy to say that she never moved out of her home, but she did move all of those boxes. For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/ #Howtodecorateaspace #Secretstoahappyhome #settlingintoanewhome

I never quite understood the use it or lose it expression until I went to do a cartwheel last year in the garden. Overcome by a memory of whom I used to be, and feeling the need to make use of the wonderful, green space that welcomes me home every day, I ran across the grass, leaped into the air (or so I imagined) and fell flat on my face. I thought I had a concussion and broken both my arms, so I lay there wondering whether to laugh or burst into tears. As I imagined how I would look when the ambulance men found me, I pulled myself up and sat on the grass. I had dirt on my face, and both my wrists hurt. I had lost it. Years of neglecting to do a cartwheel meant that I had forgotten how to do it, and my body was definitely having the last laugh. Homes are a little similar. If we don’t use a room or a thing, it starts to feel out of place, and when we eventually do want it back, it can be uncomfortable until we get past the discovery phase again. I see this all the time in formal Living and Dining Rooms. Many people don’t use them because we have become more casual, and they feel uncomfortable and stale, when really they just need a bit of attention. They need to be used and celebrated. Dust them off and put some fresh flowers in there. Sit in it a while. Eat your breakfast at your too-fancy dining table or have a donut on your very-posh sofa. Put your feet up on it and wiggle down into the cushions. Rearrange it a bit and look up at the ceiling. Appreciate it, and apologize. Be sorry that you didn’t use it for so long. Cheer it up by opening the curtains and straightening up the pile of junk that has been lying there for six months. Think how lucky you are to have it then promise to use it more often. Let the kids do their craft projects in there. Don’t pitch a fit if the dog jumps up on your custom-made sofa. Drink a glass of wine and eat a slice of pizza in your pajamas. Put a pile of magazines on the side table. Change the photographs in your picture frames. Dust off the brown, crunchy dried flowers (or better yet, throw them away). We are so fortunate to have these homes, and to have an extra space is a luxury. Why not live in it, use it…… and then you won’t ever have to worry about losing it. For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to: http://www.thebluegiraffe.com/