Defining yourself

Today, I completed an exam which will hopefully earn my a certification in decorating.  Hhhhmmm.  About 20 years ago, I thought I would be earning a Ph. D.

Where did the road diverge?

Was it somewhere between manic episodes?  Changing majors?  Changing boyfriends?  When did I aspire to, well, what I aspire to today?

All of a sudden, fabric swatches and paint colors are pertinent.  Does that make me vapid?

I've learned that interior decor is directly influenced by the fashion industry.  I can't help but feel a little shallow poring over Vogue and Traditional Home.

Somewhere a long the line, Juvenal and Iambic pentameter began to mean less to me.

Does that make me less?

Does what you "do" define who you are and if so, do you want it to?

to the people who got me here

It was like putting on slippers, or slipping into you favorite sweater come winter.  An easy fit.

Some say you spend your whole life looking for friends.  What if you made them without trying?  What if it just happened and you were almost a spectator in your own life?

Sometimes it happens.  Maybe you are 5 and you are both thrown into kindergarten, away from your mothers for the first time, still sucking that thumb.  Maybe you are 18, away from home for the first time and scared to death.  Maybe you are 30 and have just had your first child.  You being plural.  You and this new friend.

Maybe you are both from catholic families.  Or maybe one of you scrambled across a border to begin a better life while the other one of you was living it.

I have known these.

I spent Friday night with old dear friends and saturday night with friends made during my adulthood.

I could not, would not change a moment in my friendship with any of these people.

You spend your first 18 years thrown into social situations.  To some degree your friends are already made.  If you are one of the lucky ones, you go to college.... and start to make friends on your own.  Afterwards, work should bring new friends.  Then children.

What a lucky girl am  I.....

My old shoes, my new shoes, they all fit.  I treasure the vintage finds and relish the new.

Here's to you:  Buck, Missy, Rebecca, Ceily, Nestor,  Lori, Susan, Liz V., Liz w., Dusty, Wendy, Rich, Leah, Tom, Pam, Winthrop, Candice, Bill, Tanya, Kristen, Bruno, Michele, Angie Jackson, Heather, Jennifer, Melissa, Lisa, Blaire, Jenny, Annelliott, Drewry, Jack, you countless others who have made me laugh, sing, dance and cry.  And most especially to Tim.

Life isn't what you think you have accomplished... its the people along the way who got you there.

Thank you.

an Ugly Monday

I felt my face flush first.  My ears.  The pinpricks of tears in my eyes.  A short quick in take of breath.

I had made an, apparently, unforgivable transgression.  I promoted my business on a Yelp! talk thread.  The first response was barbed and nasty.... "...get your money back if you paid for a degree.  ....I know shabby chic and you are nothing but shabby....".  I stared at the page and swallowed hard.   Hundreds of heartfelt good sentiments eradicated by one virtual stranger's cruel words.

I've never claimed to be a designer.  I do not have a degree.  Nor do I consider my style shabby chic (um, bleck, for the record.  hate it)  but here was this woman lambasting me, personally attacking me, accosting my website, because I had made a minor infraction in Yelp! world?????

I responded to my attackers by thanking them for their words of "encouragement"; what else could I do?  I studied Shachi B.'s (my numero uno attacker) profile and found her on Facebook (careful who you curse).  She wrote about the breakfast of champions being brownies... she looked like the ultimate winner at the breakfast table.


A friend posted today that her uncle had died.  Life is what you reap, she wrote.  Smile more, piss on people less.  I get it.

Shachi B. is a recent George Mason Alum.  She deigned to impart to me ways that I might promote my business... for the record, I do all of which she recommended.  She lives here in Arlington.  She hides behind her anonymity and writes "snap"tasteque pithy remarks that are intended to cut the legs out from under her victim.  God, if I believed in you, I would wish for Karma.....

Looking forward to the Harvest

The days are still hot but there is a subtle change afoot.  The humidity has died down; the sky is a pure blue again; the vegetable vines are dying.  Autumn is upon us.

So many profound changes this year.  Annelise in her school uniform.  Teddy playing football.  And the launch of my own company, Holcomb Gray Decor.

If Spring is the season of rebirth, Autumn is the season of ripening, maturing, coming into one's own.

I feel this now.  The last week I have been preoccupied with obtaining a business license, creating a portfolio, launching a website, making a Facebook page.  I don't know if I have fully comprehended yet that my days will change (hopefully).  Will I have clients (two thus far)?  Will they write me testimonials?  Will my company make money?  Have I finally found a calling on which to embark?

As the children gather than tools and backpacks, I have my own gathering to do.   A laptop, a camera, perhaps an iPad... I just don't know yet what all I will need.

Night settles a little earlier these days.  When we wake, the air is a little cooler.  As sure as the leaves will turn their colors, my time will change as well.

Welcome to Autumn, to new leaves.