Pottery Barn . . . Are You Okay???

A friend of Mr. Funny's balked in his face last October, when we told him we loved the Fall leaves of Canada.

"What? How could someone love Fall leaves?" he clambered.

And then, with disdain he quickly explained that Fall and it's leaves represented nothing but rot, decay, and a bland, boring death!

Wow.

Hmmmmm.

Mr. Funny and I sat there very confused. Too bad that guy's so blah on life!

And merrily we went on our way enjoying the falling leaves, the beauty of the patterns they made as they floated and twisted through the air, the smell of crisp evenings and the ever creeping closer nakedness of the forests in which we lived. It truly was marvelous . . . for a while. By January we were begging, ready to give up all we had for green and airy and potent colors of flora here . . . there . . . anywhere!

But no such luck was had and I quickly realized why those sun-lamp companies were still in business. I also found myself agreeing with Mr. Funny's bald friend. Fall did indeed mean the beginning to a long journey of death of all things fun and beautiful. Death of outdoor play without frozen limbs. Death of beautiful leaves that smiled happily at us each morning as the suns rays danced about their green surfaces. Death of light shining through windows to happily visit and remind us it was a brand new day. The nightlight in the hall was a self-starter, smart in the ways of knowing when to turn itself on and off based on the amount of light around. Mr. Nightlight? He never once turned off in those long, dark months. He dutifully ran and ran and ran some more. Indeed, the forest was now dead and so seemed life in general.

We packed our car and trailer and left the great far-east in Spring and yet it still felt like Fall-- decay, dirty snow, brown, burnt colors everywhere the head turned. Naturally, we were thrilled to hit Connecticut and see green-- in fact a sea of green continually covered the highways we traveled with blankets and canopies of luster for mile after mile. Heavenly. Pure heaven! It was a gift and boy did we need it! Pink flowers, purple flowers, red, yellow and magenta graced the homes of happy people playing in their yards. Bicycles, jump ropes, kiddie pools and sunshine. Sunshine everywhere! Sunshine lighting up the trees and kissing the skin of those little ones as they ran and played. It was a beautiful site to see and a wonderful beginning to the rest of our lives.

We returned to our little city and walked through our newly un-rented home. It was clean and even smelled good. The paint was in tact and so were the appliances and carpeting. We knew we'd been blessed to have renters who'd cared for our little abode and we were grateful. But something was drastically wrong. Even though the sun shone brightly through our small windows which now seemed huge in comparison to those in the place we'd been renting, and the green grass of the front and back yards blew happily in the breeze, this home with is Tuscan inspired colors of burnt reds, yellows and browns was dead. No longer a feeling of life and glee filled the rooms like it did those streets of Connecticut in April or Canada in July, as it had before our move. Indeed death had seemed to taken grasp of the place and I knew there'd have to be change.

So what did I do? So far not much. But most of the rod iron is now tucked beneath our bed and sleeps in close quarters with the Tuscan paintings of some burnt colored place in the hills of Spain and the likes. We are in need of some bubbly, spunky, gleeful decorating inspiration and so naturally, as I've done in the past, I turned to The Pottery Barn magazine.

I love Pottery Barn, not because I have the kind of money to shop there, because I don't-- but because I think a lot of their ideas are charming and wonderful and Ross Dress for Less is only 7 miles away.

Ross?? I love you! You sell such great knock offs at knock off prices that I can virtually mimic anything I want from Pottery Barn for about 10% of the cost. Thanks Ross, you make all my dreams come true!!

So I've been waiting for my new Pottery Barn subscription to arrive and that blessed day came yesterday! I couldn't wait to peruse it's pages and see how it was going to change my deathly home into pure bliss! But alas, I had dishes to do, photo shoot things to clean up and children to spend time with, dinner to warm for my handsome, sweaty, just-come-from-the-gym husband and so on. Unfortunately, PB had to wait until around 8:30pm, when CR and I finally snuggled down on her bed and peaked inside the magazine to see what treasures PB had in store for us to recreate.

And . . . . . . . .

It was horrifying!

"What happened to Pottery Barn?" we cried.

And truly, what did happen? Has the Fall and Winter of Canada taken hold of the company? Shall we send them a sun-lamp to brighten their minds? Ohhhhhhh Pottery Barn, we've lost you!

You've lost you.

I realize these days are hard ones. Our country has been hit financially. More and more people are now out of work or scrambling to figure out what to do with all their amounting financial debt and the problems associated with it. It's truly sad and disheartening and leaves everyone feeling a tad bit helpless and on edge. However, does that make it okay for PB to advertise such bland existences??? Their entire magazine this month is dedicated to the bland, dead, decaying, boredom of lifelessness that sooo many of our good friends and neighbors are experiencing. I see their possible desire of wanting to relate to the general public, but so horribly bland . . . and still just as expensive as always?

A sample, so you'll believe me:


PB? Why not give us something to hope for! Give us bright and airy and sparkling dreams for a better future! Give us spunky and fun and the ability to hope for a better way, a happier life!

So, with PB's musings of what we know everyone is already going through, I feel I'm on my own. My own journey to discover what next. Where shall I turn? This home is in dire need of a spruce-up before the big Halloween Party it will hold in October. I'm racing against the clock . . . and although I love the ghouls and goblins I'm truly not fond of death and would love to keep it at bay. After all, that's one of the big reasons we live in Cali, the year round life of sunshine and goodness for the soul!

Therefore, I will sit and surf blogs and pictures until something catches my minds desire and I can drive to Lowe's and buy some paint that will jump start my life here in this structure we call home.

Petty?

I know.

But you can't say you don't dream . . . can you?? Cuz if you really can't dream? Be sure you don't read this month's PB magazine cuz if you do you'll have nightmares for sure and feel you're at a dead end with no hope and nothing in site for a better future. In fact, you'll probably have to go out and buy a sunlamp to feel better. And honestly, do you have money for that right now?

Hang in there Pottery Barn . . . I hope you feel better next month.