Clayton Tiny Homes presents The Saltbox

This week, I had the opportunity to get a sneak peek at a very special tiny home. The Saltbox, with 452-square-feet of charm and style, is part of the Clayton Designer Series. Clayton is a well known name around East Tennessee and one of the largest home builders in America.

The Saltbox was designed by Birmingham-based architect Jeffrey Dungan, whose work has been featured in Southern Living as well as Garden & Gun. The Saltbox is designed to be a perfect year-round vacation home if you're looking for a life that combines simplicity and luxury.

Before I even set foot inside the house, I was struck by its clean lines and unique style. Of course it didn't hurt that when I toured it, it was located against the picturesque backdrop of Fort Loudoun Lake. The house will be moved to the Clayton showroom in Maryville, Tennessee where you can visit it for yourself!

Once I went inside the house, I loved the way its design felt so open and airy. The living area, which felt spacious to me, had plenty of room for a regular sized sofa and two comfy club chairs. I love the concept of tiny houses, but I wouldn't want to sacrifice having friends over or entertaining and thankfully, you wouldn't have to with the Saltbox.

There was also space for a dining table, able to accommodate six chairs. I could easily imagine eating a quiet dinner with my husband or enjoying a fun meal with a few friends around the table.

Careful attention to detail was paid in the kitchen, with modern quartz countertops, a deep sink and plenty of cabinet space. Everything felt very solid and built to last. And the interior style was modern but not so trendy that it would feel outdated anytime soon.

The walls and ceiling were both covered in pale shiplap, and the flooring was a wide oak plank. All of this helped to unify the space. Soaring 9'5" ceilings and walls of windows added to the tiny home's spacious feel. I also love how no nook or cranny was wasted. A small area past the kitchen served as a writing desk, but it would also make a great place for folding laundry, being adjacent to the washer/dryer.

The bathroom had a full sized tub and subway tile for a spa-like feeling. In fact, the bathroom in the tiny house was about the same size as that of my own (circa 1959) so I felt right at home.

In the bedroom, which also featured the pale shiplap walls, there was plenty of space for a queen sized bed and two side tables. A nook opposite the bed would have been perfect for a small dresser or even a TV stand.

I learned that the tiny home was built indoors at a facility in Addison, Alabama. It is outfitted with a Summit Appliance® range, dishwasher and refrigerator, special ordered from a company in New York that creates appliances for tiny apartments in the big city. These are also perfect for tiny houses.

The house is incredibly energy efficient with Ply Gem® aluminum clad windows and doors, a space-saving tankless water heater and optional 1,000 gallon above-ground cistern to harvest rainwater, which would give Saltbox owners ways to minimize utility consumption.

Something else about the house that I really liked was the fact that unlike some tiny houses you might have seen with wheels, it can be permanently affixed to your land.

As well as being a great permanent home, the Clayton Tiny Homes Saltbox would make a perfect weekend retreat for a writer or artist, as well as an airbnb on a beautiful piece of property.

Clayton's Designer Series started as a collection of concept homes, but with research and development, they have pushed the limits of innovation, rethinking the future of housing in better and smarter ways.

They strive to listen to their customers about the trends they appreciate as well as the dreams they have for their homes. Clayton saw that there was a desire for minimalism, high-quality materials and increased functionality. As the minimalist lifestyle gains popularity, they believe that more people will embrace the ideas of living at a lower cost, using less energy, and being responsible for less upkeep.

The Clayton Tiny Homes meet international residential building codes, which means the homes can be placed anywhere. Pricing starts in the lower $100,000's.

To learn more about the Saltbox and Clayton Tiny Homes, visit designerseriestinyhomes.com or follow them on Facebook. 

HGTV's Urban Oasis 2017 in Knoxville, TN

Since I first moved to Knoxville nearly two decades ago to attend the University of Tennessee, our 'scruffy little city' has grown and changed in many exciting ways. Still rich with southern hospitality and that special energy that only comes from being an SEC college town, Knoxville has been ranked a hot city for business, most dog-friendly and also one of the friendliest places in America.

We're also lucky to be home to the headquarters of HGTV. Knoxville has a thriving downtown, amazing restaurants, a pretty cool music scene, plus a growing number of local craft beer purveyors. It's also home to some really vibrant neighborhoods, including Fourth and Gill which is where HGTV chose its Urban Oasis® 2017.

The home is a charming Craftsman style bungalow which started out as a duplex. Under the direction of HGTV Urban Oasis 2017 Project Manager Scott Branscom, it has been transformed into a beautiful single-family home, with 1,850 square feet and three bedrooms and two baths. Branscom is COO of Grace Construction in Knoxville.

HGTV tapped local firms Open Door Architecture and Tillman Companies to handle the concepting and build-out of the structure. The home, which is centered around an open and airy living concept, features art direction and decor from Atlanta-based interior designer Brian Patrick Flynn.

There's no shortage of curb appeal, beginning with the cheerful 'millennial' pink front door. Each spacious room seems to open up into the next, with careful attention to detail that celebrates the iconic style of the home's era while still feeling completely fresh and modern.

  And the outdoor living spaces are to die for. I would never tire of having my morning coffee on the front porch, lounging on the back screened-in deck for cocktails and maybe stealing away for a romantic evening by the fire pit in the backyard.

What is the HGTV Urban Oasis? The HGTV Urban Oasis Giveaway complements the network’s annual HGTV Dream Home Giveaway and HGTV Smart Home Giveaway. During the first five years of the HGTV Urban Oasis, the project featured a contemporary residence in a luxury, high-rise property in a major U.S. city. Beginning in 2015, following the hot trend in home renovation, HGTV decided to purchase and completely remodel older bungalows near trendy urban communities.

Enter to Win the HGTV Urban Oasis 2017 The best part about this house is that it could be yours! The HGTV Urban Oasis Giveaway 2017 sweepstakes runs from October 2 through November 22. Online users may enter twice per day via HGTV.com. Full rules are available at HGTV.com. As the winner, you would receive a grand prize package valued at more than $600,000. It includes the home plus $50,000 provided by national mortgage lender Quicken Loans®. Find more photos and layouts, plus info on how you can enter for a chance to win the HGTV Urban Oasis 2017 at HGTV.com/UrbanOasis.

Photos © 2017 Scripps Networks, LLC.  Used with permission; all rights reserved. 

Church - Who Needs It

For my husband and I, Sundays are usually pretty laid back. We wake up leisurely and have coffee, then breakfast. Sometimes we watch CBS Sunday Morning like I did with my grandparents on weekends spent with them during my childhood (of course, it's not the same without Charles Kuralt). Occasionally, I use Sundays to get caught up on work or other projects.

When we moved into our house, we were blessed with some free furniture that exceeded our living room's capacity, so we've turned our small one-car garage into a sitting room of sorts. I sit out there from time to time with the garage door open, working on the computer or reading a good book.

I was doing just that Sunday morning. My husband had poured me a fresh cup of coffee and I had settled in for some leisurely Pinterest browsing while he ran an errand. Imagine my surprise when a member of the church across the street came up the driveway with an invitation to their monthly potluck lunch. He said his church holds a potluck one Sunday each month and today was it. Would we like to come and eat with them?

We've been invited to eat with them before, when we first moved into our house. We were still unpacking and had plans later that day so we politely declined. Today though, I couldn't think of any excuse not to go. I was wearing sweats and my hair was in a ponytail, so I quickly ran into the house to change and freshen up.

The church is one I consider to be a more traditional denomination and I figured the ladies probably wore skirts. I didn't want to make a bad first impression, especially when I was only showing up to eat. So I threw on a maxi dress and pulled my hair into a bun.

Walking across the street toward the church, I thought to myself "What am I doing?" It's a little nerve-wracking to visit a new church for the first time, especially a small congregation where you can't really get lost in the crowd. Will they think I'm weird? Will they think I'm only here for the free food? Will they wonder why we haven't visited before now? All these questions were running through my head.

Both my husband and I grew up attending church regularly. My family was Baptist and his, Methodist. The Sundays of my childhood were mostly the same...early mornings, getting dressed up in our finest and heading to the big Baptist church downtown. First, there would be Sunday school, taught by older folks who had memorized the scriptures frontwards and backwards. We'd read from our lessons and put our offering nickels and pennies into the small envelope for Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong.

Then we'd head to big church, with the adults. I'd sit quietly, drawing pictures on the back of the bulletin as long as my dad couldn't see. After my younger brother had aged out of the church nursery, he came to big church too. My mom placated him with plastic baggies filled with snacks. I always felt so jealous of the snacks but I was older and could be expected to sit quietly through the service, even if I didn't understand most of what it was about.

After church, my parents, brother and I would head to my great-grandparents' house out in the country for a big meal with the rest of our family. The kids would change into our play clothes and spend the afternoon running around the yard, while the adults napped or gossiped, catching up on what was going in each other's lives.

Since my husband and I have been married, we've never attended church together other than when we visit my parents and go with them. We've talked about visiting various churches in town, and yet somehow Sunday rolls around and we never do. I guess I figured when the time was right, it would happen. We believe in God and talk freely about our faith. But I've never really thought that being in a church building was completely necessary.

Sunday, visiting the small church across the road, I got a taste of what we've been missing. It wasn't a fancy lunch served on fine china. But I filled up my Styrofoam plate more than once. The congregation was small, with probably not more than 25 or 30 people in attendance. When I arrived, the women were in the church's galley kitchen preparing the food, and they genuinely welcomed me, asking questions and making introductions to make me feel like I was part of the group.

When the last covered dish atop the long plastic folding table had been uncovered, the members gathered to form a line. One began to sing and everyone joined in, a song of blessing over the food and the fellowship.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.


Growing up, I always loved singing the Doxology at our big Baptist church. All those voices joined together, reverberating off the walls in the massive, soaring sanctuary...it was like I knew God could really hear us.

But Sunday, in that small room with those kind, unassuming faces smiling at me, I felt community. My eyes teared up, and I thought to myself "This is what belonging feels like."

The conversation over lunch wasn't about doctrine or church politics, but instead turned to things like how one church member had taken up bike riding as a way to get rid of his knee pain. We covered the gamut from troubled kids (a couple members were teachers and shared some war stories of their experiences) as well as how many of the ladies of the church are apparently smitten with Korean dramas, including a show called Coffee Prince (which I was told might be too much for me to start my K drama education).

Church is not about committees or whether you have a rock and roll band or just an out-of-tune piano. It's not about whether you have the Ten Commandments painted on the wall, or if you worship in a grand sanctuary where the light streams in through brilliant stained glass windows.

It's about people. And coming together. Finding a connection that trumps all our differences and disagreements. Sometimes the ones who feel like they don't need church can benefit from it most. That was me Sunday.

Back at home, my once hot cup of coffee was right where I left it, although it was cold. But I didn't care. My heart was full.

Barbie is not for everybody.

As soon as I heard the news, I knew I wanted to write this post. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to say, but I figured it would come to me if I gave it some thought.

Mattel recently launched some new Barbie dolls with all new body types. There's a short one (for which I guess petite is the politically correct term), a tall one (tall is still okay, even though I prefer statuesque), and a curvy one. She's plump (definition: having a full, rounded shape). As a plump woman myself, I feel entitled to use that word to describe her. Be offended if you will.

[Sidenote - It's hard to tell what size this new curvy Barbie would be if she were a real woman, but considering that 12 or 14 is the average clothing size for women in the U.S., average might be a better descriptor for her. Just a thought.]

So far, I've seen a ton of news stories about the development of the newly sized Barbies. Some headlines include:

"Barbie's New Diverse Looks are Absolutely Necessary" - LA Times

"Barbie is Finally Available in Three New Body Types" - Gizmodo

"Barbie's Hips Don't Lie" - The Atlantic

"Barbie Finally Becomes a Real Woman" - The Guardian

It's impossible to go back in time and know how my seven-year-old self would have felt about these new Barbies. I'm sure I would have wanted them, but that's because I never met a Barbie (nor Barbie accessory) I didn't want in the 80s.

As a child, there was no toy or toy experience I loved more than Barbie. I am not, have never been, nor ever will be a "Barbie Hater." These are the ones who say that Barbie is a terrible role model for young girls, the ones who picked on her body (prior to the new shapes) saying her proportions were unrealistic, the ones who threw a fit because she said "Math was hard."

As an intelligent girl who spent many a school night stressed to the max and crying at my parents kitchen table while battling my math homework, I was relieved to hear that Barbie understood my pain. Math is hard sometimes. So are split infinitives and participle phrases. And learning a language you've never spoken before. And writing a critical analysis of a Rembrandt etching. And getting up in front of hundreds of people and giving a speech you've written. And working full-time while getting your master's degree. And being a grown up.

The issue is not whether things are hard, but whether we are equipped to do hard things. Life is filled with hard things. It's okay to say it. Saying something is hard doesn't mean you're weak.

Being different is hard. No matter if your particular flavor of different is visible on the outside or just something you keep secret in your heart. I've written about clubs I'll never belong to and how sometimes we all just want to fit in somewhere.

I think the new Barbie body shapes are less for the girls who are supposed to get the most joy from them and more for the rest of us, who want to feel better about the way things are now.

I only know what it was like to be a little girl with chubby cheeks and frizzy hair in 1989, when the world was a different place. When mailing a letter or making a long distance call meant something. And if you sat down to a delicious meal, you simply said a prayer and ate it, without taking a single photo of the plate. When walking down the street to the gas station for a box of candy cigarettes, or maybe going to the Dairy Queen for a Dilly bar was enough to make you feel like you'd had a really great day.

When my grandma would sit for hours and play Barbies with me. Like she didn't have anywhere else to be, or anyone else to talk to or text with (there was no texting, but you know what I mean). Like I was the only person in the world who mattered. And the world we created with my Barbie dolls was our own little world, where anything was possible.

I read that the impetus for Mattel's new Barbie dolls came from their poor sales over the past few years. And how this move was supposed to win back the love of millennial moms who want their daughters to have, as Time Magazine calls it, "more empowering toys."

Again, I can only speak from my experience, but Barbie empowered me more than any other toy I ever had. And that includes two microscopes, a myriad of art supplies, and lots of other 'educational' playthings.

Not only was my Barbie mayor of her town, but she also owned and operated a successful business. She was independently wealthy, but used her money only for good. She had a wonderful loving husband, Ken, who supported her emotionally and was always levelheaded even when she was the victim of a kidnapping plot (many of our Barbie storylines were inspired by the Guiding Light, which was my grandma's soap). And she had numerous meaningful friendships with other dolls who supported and celebrated her accomplishments, as she did for them.

Of course I thought my Barbie was beautiful, with her golden hair and bright blue eyes. But I never, ever thought for one second that I was supposed to look like her. Nor did I ever look at her pointed toes, straight plastic arms and jointed behind and think that my own body didn't measure up. She was just a doll, after all.

Have things gotten so mixed up that little girls look at everything around them for affirmation of what they should look like, be and do? And are we really so lacking of real live role models that a plastic doll would have earned such a key place in our culture?

As I read back over those last couple of sentences, I realized that this isn't limited just to little girls, but I suppose big girls do it too. How much worse will things get as we continue to strive for impossible standards that were never real in the first place.

I'm not even sure how little girls play with Barbies these days. Do they make up stories and act them out like I did 25 years ago? Or do they even care about any of that?

The one thing that does make me happy about the changes to Barbie are the new skin tones and hair styles. The first ever red-haired Barbie I saw was a special edition "Irish" lass, but for the most part my Barbies were all blonde. I'm glad that girls now can play with Barbies that have all different styles and looks.

Growing up, I enjoyed playing with all my toys. I had a doctor kit, which I liked to lug around as I bandaged up stuffed animals. But I didn't want to be a doctor. And as I mentioned earlier, I had microscopes which I enjoyed using to look at slides of water samples collected in the backyard. But having a job as a scientist didn't interest me that much either.

I didn't know it at the time, but I wanted to be a storyteller. A writer. Someone who creates other worlds, and for the characters in them, believes anything is possible. Maybe Barbie isn't for everyone. Maybe every little girl should be allowed to find the toys that bring them the most joy.

For me, Barbie provided a way to express my creativity and let my imagination run wild as I created characters and story lines for them to live out. And for that, I'll always be grateful. I don't care if Barbie is tall or short, skinny or fat, black or white, blonde or red-headed. Those aren't the things that determine how much you love people. I love Barbie because of all that she made possible. Good memories, and a childhood where I felt treasured and loved. Of course it's really my family who are to thank, but Barbie was the vehicle for some of it.

As I look at these faces, all these different Barbies with their new shapes and sizes, their new hair and skin tones, it makes me miss those simple childhood days of play and creating. These gals would have fit right in with my 1980s Barbie collection. I know my grandma and I would have enjoyed bringing them to life.

[All images via http://www.barbiemedia.com/]

Simple Organization Tricks from the Dollar Tree

If there's one rule I try to follow in my home, it's "a place for everything and everything in its place." This can be hard, especially when it is just so much easier to let things pile up where they lie.

As a kid, my favorite Berenstein Bears book was the one about the messy room. Brother and Sister bear's room degenerated into a huge mess and their parents were oh so frustrated. Ultimately, Papa Bear built them all these really cool compartments and organization systems to corral their junk.

What does it say about me that I loved this book so much? I can be a clutter bug, but I really prefer organization. And while I love the idea of having all sorts of fancy containers, spending lots of money at fancy container stores just isn't really practical for me.

That's where Dollar Tree comes in. In many ways, it's kind of like a thrift store because going there can be a treasure hunt and you aren't sure what you will find.

I'm sharing some organization tips and tricks on Fox 43 this morning. For me, it's all about thinking outside the box while being frugal at the same time. I hope it inspires you to get organized in your home!

Be Creative About Intended Use

Everything has an intended use, but there's no rule that says you can't get creative. Each section of items at Dollar Tree can usually do double duty in other areas of your home. 

For instance, office supplies are often great for helping you create order in the bathroom. I like to use pen and pencil containers to keep my makeup brushes and lip gloss tubes in one place. They are tall and slender and at $1 a pop, quite a bargain.

 Other office supplies that can work in the bathroom include zippered pencil pouches (also great for makeup, cotton swabs, etc.). I even like the clear plastic ones that snap into 3-ring binders. A great way to keep everything organized while traveling.

Kitchen stuff is also great for organizing things in other parts of the house. I like to organize my jewelry in ramekins and small plastic leftovers containers. Bright plastic bowls are also good for this because I keep them in a top drawer so I can see all my bracelets and earrings at a glance when I'm getting ready in the morning. 

I also stumbled upon a cute glass relish dish at my local Dollar Tree. I think it would be perfect for loose change at the end of the day as well as plenty of other uses. 

Other office supplies that are great for adding organization are binder clips. When clipped on the side of a table or desk, you can use them to keep your cords and cables neat and save yourself lots of headaches later on. 

Another great product I picked up at the Dollar Tree is a small 4x6 photo album. I use it to organize recipe cards as I'm doing meal planning. Plus the clear plastic pages protect my cards in case any sauce goes flying! 

These are just a few of the items I picked up at Dollar Tree...you never know what you'll find at that place. 

Don't be afraid to pick and choose. 

It's your house so at the end of the day, you gotta live there. So what if putting your vacuum cleaner bags in the kitchen cabinet seems weird to your friends. If a solution works for you and helps you keep the order at home, don't sweat it.

My southern beau and I recently moved and we've been figuring out all the organizing solutions that will work at our new place. Everything we did at our previous home may not really make all that much sense anymore, but I'm glad we're free to pick and choose.

So do it your way and don't get too stuck trying to follow certain rules of order based on what DIY blogs and magazines say.

Happy organizing!

The Thing You Crave the Most

Cravings are strange. I'm sure there's probably lots of scientific research behind them, none of which I'm going to mention here, but if you Google "Science of cravings" you can find approximately 1,280,000 results on the subject. So there's that.

The other night my family went out to a restaurant where we've eaten for years. It's known for its seafood, but for some reason as I read over the menu, I felt like I was craving the vegetable lasagna. Even as I had the thought, another thought came to me that I probably shouldn't order lasagna at a restaurant known for its seafood...as if there were some sort of restaurant police that might not approve my decision.

Oh those darned shoulds and should nots. Why do they always rear their ugly heads? I'm not talking about a feeling in your heart that is leading you in one direction or another. I'm referring to those feelings that come based on nothing more than some abstract idea of "the right thing" to do. Why is it so hard to follow the truest desire of our heart (which seems like the most natural thing to do) and yet so easy to follow someone else's idea of what's right for us (often white knuckling our way through it, by gosh!)?

Math has never been my strong-suit, but one strategy I used as a kid to complete challenging math homework was to first think of the most basic thing I knew to be true and work my way forward from there.

Perhaps that same method could be applied in other areas of life?

When faced with a challenge where the answer doesn't seem clear, why not start at the very beginning and work your way forward from there?

What is the most basic thing you know to be true? That you're loved. That you have value. That how you feel matters. That your life has meaning, significance and purpose.

Brings a certain kind of peace, doesn't it? From this place, it's much easier to listen to your heart rather than force yourself kicking and screaming towards some reality that doesn't really serve you.

Sometimes the thing we think we crave isn't really what we want anyway. When my southern beau and I were engaged and preparing for our wedding, we created a gift registry at a local department store. As I walked around the store with that little scanner gun in my hands, I found myself scanning all sorts of things as he looked on in amusement. Finally, he asked "do we really need that many dishes?"

It wasn't until much later that I realized what I was doing. I was trying to satisfy a craving in the only way I knew how. But what exactly was I craving? Community. Somehow I believed that by having lots of dishes and serving pieces in my kitchen arsenal, I would naturally create a sense of community and a reason to invite others into our home. But all these years leading up to the wedding, I've had other dishes to speak of. And the number of times I've hosted parties or events at my home is disappointingly small. And yet my craving for community is no less great.

So where's the disconnect? Once again, all I can do is start at the beginning and think of the most basic thing I know to be true. I crave community. That place where true connection happens, where we can be our real selves, where burdens are shared and spirits are lifted just by being together.

Now, what can I do to create more of that? It's more of a rhetorical question I guess, but one I'm going to ponder and then act on.

That leaves me with this question for you. What do you crave most? What is the most basic thing you want out of this life? And what steps can you take to move toward that thing, rather than away from it? I don't have the answers, just like with all those math problems that stumped me from seventh grade pre-algebra. But I know what I know. And that's a pretty good place to start.

Heaviness & Light

What is it about love that both weighs you down and helps you fly at the same time? This week has been tough. After the passing of our boy Leon Spears (the greatest dog who ever lived) on Easter, I've felt sort of in a fog. There's plenty of good stuff to enjoy and look forward to as our wedding quickly approaches, but I still feel such a heavy sadness.

In my Tuesday yoga class, I shared how I was feeling with my teacher and she was very sensitive about the whole situation, taking me through poses and postures that are supposed to increase joy.

During our final relaxation (my favorite part of the class), she asked me if I'd like to have some heavy sandbags to rest on my abdomen. At first it seemed weird, but once I settled in and let myself get lost in the moment, it was nice.

I thought about how loss is like that sometimes....a heaviness that sits squarely across your gut, holding you down, making each breath more difficult than it should be.

To some people, the loss of an animal might not warrant such grief. Clearly those people never had a pet like Leon.

But loss is loss is loss. Whenever someone is dear to you and they go away, there's a sense of missing. When you love someone, it's like you're connected by an unbreakable invisible thread. No matter how far they might be or how long it's been since you saw them, the connection remains intact.

The spirit is such an incredible thing. We think the body matters so much, but really it's just the temporary house for something way more important.

I think the heaviness of loss can be good because it reminds us of just how connected we are to the ones we love. And there's a certain lightness that comes with that too...because when someone we love leaves this world, it takes one end of that invisible string into another realm. So there's a constant battle between sinking into the heaviness and allowing ourselves to float up to a place where we might begin to fly.

What I Want for Christmas - My Grown Up List

The other night I went to a holiday party providing free photos with Santa for kids and families. My friend brought her young niece who sat on Santa's lap and posed for a photo, but promptly informed my friend that while that Santa was pretty good, he wasn't the 'real' Santa because the real one (another Santa from a previous event she attended) knew she was seven years old and that she had trouble keeping her room clean. She didn't feel the need to tell the second Santa what she wanted for Christmas since he clearly wasn't the real one. It was way sweet.

I remember the magic of believing in Santa Claus. One Christmas I left my teddy bear in the living room chair to keep watch for him in the hopes that he could report back to me what he saw.

I knew Santa had to be real because my little brother and I would carefully leave out some sort of snack (off-brand Cheez-its or animal crackers from the Dollar General Store perhaps) and be oh so excited the next morning to find that "he ate them!!!"

Being a grown-up, Christmas now has a different meaning to me. There's still plenty of magic to behold, but you have to look a little closer to see it. You have to actually stop to take time to look for it in the first place.

If Santa were really real (and not my dad) or I could go back to believing like I used to, what would I ask of him?

This is my grown-up Christmas list.

1) An email inbox that doesn't grow exponentially overnight
2) More lazy Saturdays spent doing absolutely nothing
3) A heart that forgives, but also forgets
4) Not being out of breath when I have to do 60 seconds of jumping jacks
5) For Rayna and Deacon to just end up together once and for all
6) To sit down for one more Christmas morning breakfast at my great-grandma's table, and in the spirit of holiday magic, I'd abandon my vegetarianism to eat the saltiest country ham you've ever tasted, with red eye gravy
7) A new Harry Potter book nobody's ever read before
8) Renewed health for my family - physical, emotional, spiritual, the works!
9) A Barbie Dream House
10) To be with friends old and new, to share memories and stories of times we've enjoyed together

I hope you get everything on your list this year my friend! xoxo - Kate

The Difference Between a House and a Home

Last week I spent some time in my hometown and during my stay, we stopped by my great-grandparents' house. This is the house where they lived for nearly as long as I can remember...it's the house where I spent countless Christmas mornings eating a huge country breakfast as well as other holidays as well as ordinary days.

They haven't lived in the house for a few years. My great grandma passed away in the summer of 2003 and my great grandpa died in 2010. Since then, their sons (my grandpa and his brother) have been renting the house to various tenants. The most recent tenant just moved out and since the house was vacant, I wanted to go see it.

Driving the familiar route to the house, I almost convinced myself for a second that my great grandparents would be there. I know this is crazy, but when something is so familiar to you as being one way, it can be hard for our mind to accept that things have changed.

When we first pulled into the driveway, the house looked the same. Then, on closer inspection I began to see all the little things that made it perfectly clear my grandparents hadn't been there in awhile. The yard, which they were meticulous about caring for, was littered with little sticks and a few scattered weeds. My grandma's hanging plants were gone and so were her 2-liter bottle whirlygigs. There was no compost pile, no garden. No Mercury in the driveway.

Things only became more obvious when we walked inside the house. The previous tenant had moved out and left a ton of his stuff, which was scattered from room to room. Walls had been re-painted in colors my grandma would have hated. Floors re-carpeted in a variety of patterns and styles. I went from room to room, looking for anything that might be a sign of the life that my grandparents had lived.

Their bedroom, which had been turned into a child's room, was painted teal green with purple accents. The carpet was a modern berber, unlike the plush psuedo-shag that had once lined the walls.

I opened the door to what had been their bedroom closet and saw that its floor was still covered with the carpet I remembered. Now if you aren't sentimental or kind of a germaphobe, this next part might not make sense to you.

I got inside the closet and sat on the floor. I felt the carpet under my fingertips. It felt the same. I leaned down until my face was inches away from the floor and sniffed...it smelled the same. For just that second, nothing in the house had changed. My grandpa could have easily been in his chair, reading his Bible. My grandma might have been in the kitchen, scrambling eggs with a mess of poke sallet (which she knew I loved). The local a.m. radio station might have been playing so they could hear the obituaries and see which families they needed to call on to pay condolences.

But then they were gone again...the house was different and I was left having an allergy attack with a nose full of dust mites.

There's a big difference between a house and a home. A house is a place where you live. And I will always think of that particular house as my great grandparents' house. But it's painfully obvious it is no longer their home.

A home is a place where you come alive. My grandparents weren't alive in that closet...that's not why the smell meant something to me. They are alive in my heart. And that's why it's just as easy to for them to be at home in my heart, because they are still alive to me in there.

We might live lots of places in our lifetime, but our true home is not somewhere that can be seen or smelled. Home is where the truest part of us resides.

[images via flickr Creative Commons license  1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Building the Right Foundation

There's a construction site outside my window. As I type these words, the shrill beep of a truck backing up rings over and over (and over). I got spoiled for the few years when the outpatient surgery center next door to my home sat empty. No sounds could be heard, no people seen milling about.

Then, one day I saw a handful of people walking around over there. They looked so official in their hard hats with their clipboards, nodding and taking notes as they scrutinized the property. 

As if overnight, it became a sea of activity. Dump trucks, backhoes, and all sorts of heavy machinery working nearly round the clock to get the building revamped and rebuilt so it can become something brand new. 

Now, there's a huge dirt trench that runs along the other side of my fence. Any shred of privacy I got from the rambling weeds and brush between us was carefully ripped out with a backhoe. 

It's not a pretty sight. But I'm hopeful that whatever they are building over there will end up making the property look better in the long run. 

Building anything is never easy. Whether you are starting from scratch or taking something that's already there and tearing part of it away so you can rebuild something better. 

But there's something oddly comforting about this process. In many ways, it's all we know. Our lives are constantly being molded and changed. Our relationships are built and from there they grow and develop. 

Who we are is fundamentally the same until one day, there's a tiny shift and we see everything differently. 

I have a dear, dear friend who has recently lost a significant amount of weight. Someone made a comment to her that when she was 80 pounds heavier, she was surely enslaved to food and that now she's lost the weight, doesn't she feel so much freer? 

She is definitely freer, but her response was profound to me. She said she was never enslaved to food. She was enslaved to a wrong belief that there was something inherently wrong with her and that food would in some way mask or fix that. The narrative she hears on the inside has changed and that's what is allowing her physical body to change. 

I have had wrong beliefs for much of my life too. Beliefs that I wasn't good enough, that I had to prove myself by working hard, by showing people what I could achieve. Nothing good can be supported on a foundation of wrong beliefs.

It's only when we have a foundation of grace that we can allow good things to be built in our lives. A foundation of being loved, of feeling like we are enough, of knowing that we are accepted and that we have value.

In case nobody's told you lately: You are loved. You are enough. You are accepted. You have value. 

[photo via  by justmakeit]

A Visit with Kristie Barnett The Decorologist

Last week I was in for a real treat. Not only did my schedule include a Cher concert AND a visit to the HGTV Smart Home 2014, but I was also invited to join some fellow bloggers for a special dinner at the home of Nashville designer Kristie Barnett. Kristie, a.k.a. The Decorologist, is a residential paint color expert and her staging and home design business is the talk of the town in Nashville. 

Kristie was gracious enough to host a wonderful dinner at her home for the bloggers who attended the HGTV Smart Home event. This post might be a little photo heavy, but I couldn't stop taking pictures of all her lovely decor. I know everyone doesn't embrace such eclectic style, but I think it's gorgeous. 

Much of her furniture (according to her blog) has been purchased at yard sales and estate sales. And with a little TLC in the form of paint, upholstery and revamping, Kristie has created a living space that truly embodies her style. 

Check out the dining room where we enjoyed the most delicious meal! And who says all your chairs must match? I think the different styles make for a more interesting arrangement. 

A mid-century dresser painted and re-purposed as a sideboard. Don't you love the vintage touches? 

Kristie said her husband built this diner booth in their kitchen...what a great spot to have your morning coffee. And her green glassware collection looks lovely against the white woodwork.

  

 

Here is another gorgeous piece of furniture in her dining room. Don't want to paint a priceless antique? Wallpaper or craft paper in the back of it is a great way to add visual interest without a permanent commitment. And the cuckoo clock was non-working so she gave it a coat of chalk paint to punch it up! 

On the largest wall in her dining room, Decorologist Kristie Barnett has arranged a collection of thrifted art. Similar tones and colors create a unified look.

Dark wooden armoires get a new life with a bright white coat of paint. Kristie said her 1930's home was lacking in closet space so these pieces provided extra storage for clothing and other bedroom items. 

I was so jealous of her great office too! Love the painted trim and shelving installed near the ceiling. I bet I'd get so much work done in here.

Upstairs, Kristie's husband has an incredible office as well. They created that cool pattern in the hardwood floors using different stains.

Whether your home is large or small, fancy or plain, sparse or filled with collected treasures, it's really an expression of your personality. And the most important thing is the people you choose to fill it with. I'm so honored by Kristie's warm hospitality and her kind spirit. She is so talented and her home is a reflection of that.

Learn more about The Decorologist Kristie Barnett by visiting her website. She has tons of wonderful DIY projects and how-to's, including how to paint upholstered furniture (the fabric too!) with Annie Sloan Chalk Paint.

And a special thanks to the fabulous ladies of Forest Home Media (Nancy McNulty and Dana Tucker) for putting together such a great day of fun with the HGTV Smart Home and blogger dinner.

Whose Story is it Anyway?

I spend a lot of time on this blog talking about stories. I share stories of my own, and reflect on stories I have been told over the years. I pay homage to storytellers whose lives have impacted mine, whether I've met them or not.

A thought struck me the other day about just why it is I put so much effort into telling stories. I think stories are so important because they have a life force all their own.

Consider this...don't you get just a little excited when you hear the words "Once upon a time" and know that a story will follow them?

Another reason stories come alive is because they are points of connection. When we have shared experiences with other people, it forever links us to them. And when we get back together after months or sometimes years and recollect, it brings the connection to life.

Because stories are a living thing, I think it is a great honor for someone to allow you to tell his story. That's why I would never want to tell any story that wasn't mine to share. Mind you, I tell lots of stories about other people on Southern Belle Simple, particularly my grandparents. Some are living and some have gone on, but when I tell their stories it's a way to honor them. And I like to think the ones who are no longer with us would give me their blessing to recount their adventures so the next generations can know them.

[Sidenote: I'm convinced that if my grandpa (an old timey preacher) had lived into more modern times, he'd be all over YouTube and the web. He was a great storyteller plus he had star quality.]

Some stories are hard to believe. Like the one about my grandma, whose childhood pet was a crow that came to wait for the bus to drop her off each day after school. But didn't like the Watkins salesman.

Some stories make me laugh. Like the one where my five-year old self disobeyed my uncle and kicked the ashtray in his truck, dumping out all the ashes and cigarette butts on the floorboard (and soiling my white fringed cowboy boots).

Some stories make my cry in a good way. Like the one about my mom working in a drugstore when I was a baby and trying so hard to make ends meet and create a wonderful life for me (she did, by the way).

Some stories make me ache on the inside. Like the one about my grandpa when he was a little boy having to ride on a train from Michigan to Tennessee with the body of his baby sister in a little casket being brought home to bury.

But every story is a part of me and the people who make up my life.

If we never tell the stories, entire parts of our lives will remain a mystery swallowed up by the past. I mourn the loss of stories I never got a chance to hear.

As a good southerner, I know that certain things are always better left unsaid, but I know there are plenty of good stories left to tell.

I've said this before, but it warrants repeating: the best way we can honor the ones who matter to us is by telling their stories. And if they are still around to tell the stories themselves, we can honor them by listening.

Social Graces: How to Get Along with Your Family at Thanksgiving

I've seen a couple of posts on getting along with your family at Thanksgiving and I decided since southern families are known to put the fun is dysfunctional, I should probably weigh in on the subject. Every family has its challenges. Some are more obvious than others, but no matter what you're dealing with...the holidays just seem to have a way of bringing them to their boiling point. 

My family is not perfect, although some of us claim to come pretty darn close (bless their hearts). Our Thanksgiving celebrations are usually less prone to drama since we drive to my aunt and uncle's house in Nashville and most of us put on our big city manners. 

I'm not picking on anyone because I love them all...and I'm positive I have been surly and difficult at times myself. 

So here are some tips that I recommend for getting along with your family this Thanksgiving (and beyond). 

1. Manage your own expectations. 

I'm making this number one because I think it just might be the most important of the list. What I mean by this is don't show up at Thanksgiving expecting your family to behave differently than they usually do. Just because it's a holiday doesn't mean anything magical has happened to their personalities. Even on their best behavior, they are still the same people. 

The worst feeling is when you expect someone to act differently than they usually do and then feel disappointed when they don't. Prepare yourself for the reality and then you won't be let down when Uncle Johnny gets mad that nobody laughs at the same joke he's told for 14 years. 

2. Keep it light. 

Unless Southern Living Magazine is coming to your Thanksgiving meal to shoot a story for next year's issue, it doesn't matter if your holiday celebration is perfect. Nobody cares if the plates are chipped (or even plastic). Nobody cares if the napkins are paper or cloth. Nobody cares if your table looks like something Martha Stewart would have whipped up. Don't put so much pressure on yourself and it will be much easier to avoid family drama....you won't be nearly as tense. 

3. Stay in the present. 

The past is over. It cannot be changed, forgotten, edited or erased...as much as we'd like for it to be. Don't harbor past grudges and don't air past grievances at the holiday table. If something happened in the past, try to let it go. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt you or that you shouldn't feel what you feel. But hashing out he said/she did, you vs. us, etc. won't really make you feel better.

4. Give 'em some grace. 

Nobody is perfect. Everybody brings his or her own baggage to the Thanksgiving table. What comes across as snarky from one person might be his attempt to avoid talking about what's really bothering him. Apply grace liberally...that is, show kindness and mercy to folks even when you want to pinch their little nu-nus off. 

5. Gratitude. 

It's hard to be petty about family squabbles when we stop to think about the folks all around the world who don't feel loved or valued and never get enough food to eat, let alone on Thanksgiving. Let's be grateful for the ones we call family, whether tied to us by blood or choice. Even when they drive us crazy...we're lucky to have the chance to gather with them for a meal. 

6. Drink. 

Wine is good. Lots of wine. One year, I accidentally took a prescription painkiller on Thanksgiving and then had some wine. I don't necessarily recommend it, but it was my least stressful holiday, to date. Something to think about. 

Seriously though...most of these things are just as much for me as they are for anybody else. We need our families...they are our ties to who we came from and the ones who will live on long after we are gone. Let's look at them with eyes of love this year. And hope they can find it in their hearts to do us the same favor.