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When I was a little girl, I worried about the feelings of gum wrappers.

Ok, let me back up.

When I was a little girl, I worried about the feelings of inanimate objects. On any given Saturday afternoon, my brilliant, highly organized, and very logic-driven mother could often be found desperately trying to help me clean out my very messy desk in the room I shared with my older sister. (whose desk was always neat as a pin.) Within my overflowing desk, Mom would inevitably discover many not-useful and/or simply broken items her logical mind would quickly categorize as “trash": items such as a broken button, a contorted bobby pin or two, and yes, old gum wrappers. Her hands would fly with expert-level decluttering skill, and very quickly, these small, seemingly inconsequential items belonging in the “trash” category would be rapidly scraped into her hand as she headed off toward the dust bin with the speed and determination one can only witness when a veteran mom is decluttering.

Think Viking-Warrior-Queen-with-Lightening-Bolt-Energy-riding-a-Mythical-and-Magical-Steed speed and determination.

“Noooo!!!” I would cry out, watching this rapid and cold-hearted decluttering with angst-ridden fear.

Tiny, defenseless gum wrappers in hand, my Viking Warrior Decluttering Mom would stop, turn back to find my teary eyes, and implore, “Why???” with understandable logic-based frustration and confusion.

“Because…” I would sniff from the opposite end of this particular emotional spectrum, “…it might hurt their feelings.”

My mother’s frustration would then melt as she looked at me with a mixture of bewilderment and, quite frankly, sympathy. I think there was also maybe a bit of suppressed laughter. And love. There was definitely a lot of love. Love for this kid, she knew and understood to be one of the most sentimental and sensitive people she’d probably ever know, and the patience it occasionally took to parent her…in this case, to understand why it would be traumatic for me if she were to throw away my old gum wrappers.

Have I mentioned my mother is a saint?

Sometimes people ask me why I refer to my furniture pieces in my Fables as “she” or “he.” I guess it’s fairly clear from the above that I’ve always personified the inanimate world around me, right down to the gum wrappers. It’s so easy for me to see them as characters in our little play of life. When I think back to seeing the movie Beauty and the Beast, my core memories are of course 1) the music, 2) I thought the Beast was cuter in beast form vs. his human-man form, and 3) how all my friends went on and on about how neat it was that the furniture and household decor items within the Beast’s castle came to life.

“Wow, so cool!”

“SO fantastical!”

“Amazing!

“I could really believe that candelabra was hot for that feather duster!”

“Haha!/Same!/Totally!/So true!!”

Ummm………DUH.

Everyone knows candelabras got the moves with the lady feather dusters. I mean, c'mon!

In Furniture Fables Land, where my sentimentality and imagination are perpetual dance partners, the furniture pieces are our protagonists. Traveling along on their journeys, their visit with me is simply one of their chapters…hopefully a good one that I get to share with you. But here’s the thing: as personified as the pieces of furniture may become in my mind, I know my sentimentality is actually rooted in the thoughts of the very real people who made them, the very real people who used to own them, and the very real people who will continue on with them after my turn is done. 

For any fan of my work, here is its big secret: in its essence, Furniture Fables is not about the furniture —it’s about us.

Thankfully, I’ve come to understand my sentimental wiring and how to temper it, at least a bit, with some of the logic I’ve thankfully inherited from Mom. And now my desk is clean. (Well…not too clean.)  And while I definitely wince at the thought of throwing away an old, dilapidated piece of furniture… yes, I now happily and very healthily throw away my old gum wrappers, and no longer fret about how they may feel about being discarded.  (Well…not too much.)

So, my friends, where do you fall on the gum-wrapper sentimentality scale?

Click here to share your thoughts!

 

Time for An Eighties Revival

Our newly refreshed patio table has been hard at work now for a couple of weeks, experiencing sunny, warm days in the mid-80s as well as full days of rain, and it’s holding up like a champ! The power of a good, simple paint job never ceases to amaze me, and this table’s makeover was no exception.   

READ MORE

Sneak Peek: Is It Cursed?

There are some pieces I regret picking up.

The reasons for this regret vary. Perhaps a piece tests positive for lead paint. Perhaps its damage is more extensive than I first believed. Perhaps there’s something about it that is stumping me artistically.

Or perhaps…I’m afraid of it.  READ MORE

This Newsletter Needs a Name!

"What's in a name?" asked The Bard. You are invited to tap into your creativity and help name our newsletter! Fablers who vote for one of our ideas or suggest their own will be entered to win a giveaway of the first-ever official Furniture Fables merchandise!   READ MORE