cheer up, me.

It’s one of those days. The weekend is over, Abe is at work, the sky is cloudy, and I feel melancholy. I can’t whine because I have nothing to whine about (other than the fact that I must look fat enough to deliver since today a random stranger  asked me if I was due soon and then looked shocked when I replied that the baby is actually due in March), so I’ve decided to cheer myself up by going around the house finding things that make me happy.

I know all the studies say that material goods don’t bring lasting pleasure and that, given a choice, you should spend your money on experiences that create memories instead of stuff. That philosophy appeals to me on many levels, and for the most part I am thrilled to throw away junk and focus energy on what matters (like the cake that I plan on baking when I’m done with this blog), but I am learning that there are certain objects that are valuable to me because they are attached to people and memories that I cherish.

For example, on our coffee table there is now a table runner made of fabric from the south of France. One summer my family visited my dear Auntie Sandy in Antibes, France, and I remember going to a fabric store while we were there. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the store, lighting up hundreds of breathtaking fabrics decorated with olives, flowers, and foliage. It felt like Christmas to me, and we had so much fun picking out beautiful material to take home to the States, where my grandma would turn these swaths of colorful fabric into tablecloths that we used regularly for the rest of my childhood.


There is also this part of my living room. The table is draped over with a cactus silk covering my brother sent to me while he was in Morocco, and the picture of the ship on the wall above was painted by my Uncle Steve. I love decorating with art created by family.

Here is a piece by Abe’s Aunt Andrea. In it you can see the faces of Abraham Lincoln and Abe’s grandfather, Alexander Darais. Abe’s family has always loved Abraham Lincoln (hence Abe’s name), and I have probably spent way too much time studying this painting and thinking about that connection.

Abe’s grandfather was a professor of art at BYU, and one of my favorite books in the house is a collection of his paintings and poems. It is delightful! I think Abe’s grandfather was way ahead of his time; decades before Michael Pollan and other contemporaries spotlighted the corruption of corporate agriculture, Alexander wrote poems contemplating the benefits of whole grains and painted pieces like this one, entitled, “Three Billion Served.” The photo of the picture is a little fuzzy, but if you look hard, you can make out the ghostly outlines of cows facing an open McDonald’s Big Mac carton.

Here’s the baby’s room in its current state. Obviously, it still undergoing the guest-to-baby room transformation, but I look in here at the soft colors and sunlight, and my heart feels happy.

Finally, this is a picture of the view from the toilet. I know, I know, but hey–I’m pregnant, and I spend a lot of time in the bathroom! While I’m in there, I like having interesting things to look at; otherwise, I’ll just sit there feeling sorry for myself and my over-burdened bladder. The vase was a staple accessory in my home growing up, and my mom recently gave it to me. The painting was an early lithograph of my Uncle Steve’s.

There! I think I feel better. Now off to bake a cake and listen to some Christmas music (we had an early Thanksgiving, so it’s allowed–I promise!).

One thought on “cheer up, me.”

  1. You wrote "I am learning that there are certain objects that are valuable to me because they are attached to people and memories that I cherish."

    Absolutely. In one of my drawers upstairs, I have a little tiny candle holder with a twisted red candle and I will keep it forever. Lowell bought it for me at a garage sale when he was a little boy and somehow it always reminds me of the kindness of his heart.

    And turning to my favorite topic of choice, one of the reasons that I am so in love with my fiddle is that many of the tunes that I play are associated with people and happy memories of playing with them. St. Anne's Reel reminds me of my first lesson and the gratitude that I feel for the things my teacher's taught me. Going Uptown reminds me of being invited to go out to The Grove last fall to play with members of my jam group so that people could dance. It was the last time I got to play with a fiddler I very much admired . . .

    And the wonderful thing about all this? The objects may have to be left behind someday, but I think those warm memories will persist.

    I ALWAYS love your blog posts!

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