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Look. I'm about to let you in on a secret, one of my insecurities. Like most insecurities, it might not even be true. But I'm thinking it probably is. It has weighed heavily on me this morning so I'm actually just getting this off my chest, just like the mirror that fell on my chest this morning.

I don't think I'm that good of a homemaker. I cook only during certain moon phases it seems (once in a blue moon) when I feel like it, I hate going to the grocery store (mostly because I have to race like the Daytona 500 [latter pronoun is most likely incorrect, but I'm pretty sure it's a number in the hundreds] back from the city before everything frozen morphs into something with a different molecular structure), every garden I have tried to manifest has died like there was a disease on that patch of land (which I personally declare that there was), everything I sew looks like Edward Scissor Hands got drunk and tried to patch it up, and then there is the issue of the house.

I want a beautiful house, I really do. However, I have no idea what I'm doing. All I know is that I have this stuff that has been inherited. So I have to arrange it. I have no idea if it looks good the way I've arranged it. I have no idea if it looks good in the first place. I have no idea how to make a mantle look pretty or a bookshelf. What the heck do you do with corners? Is there too much? Is there too little? Help!

The stuff I like is too expensive for the Sun King. Interior designers are too big for the wallet. 

Where is my altruism and domesticity? 

Well, it's a good thing I love children and babies, because otherwise I would wonder if I was cut out to be head of a household. I'm guessing that time is on my side with this one. 

In the meantime, my face is pea green from looking at Pinterest:





I mean, who are these people who have it all figured out like this? Comfortable fireplace scenes, artsy furniture they made themselves...DIYers really make me mad! I don't believe in DIY. If you are one, good for you. I can't figure it out. I'm pea green with envy.

So that's my aggressive confession for the day. 

These things happen in time. Time will tell. Time is on my side. Maybe in 5 years, I'll show you my house on here (maybe you can tell from my blog that design is not my forte), and this site will look better and you'll see that my house is one you might like to visit, and you'll say, "Liza Jane, you've gotten so good at being a homemaker, writer and wife! Proud of you!"

I'll say that I'm proud of you too...for still reading my blog. 

Timely,
Liza Jane

Liza JonesComment