that chevron rug in my last post

Who knew other folks would love our chevron rug as much as I do? After a few comments about it, I figured it deserved its own post.


I bought it for another room (the family room shown in the picture of our kids and our missionary friends in this post), but the print was too much for that space and the walls were a little too blue and not aqua enough to coordinate well.

So the living room it is!


I haven't vacuumed in a nearly a week, so I'll admit that the yellow fleck and dog hairs in the picture above aren't part of the rug but just part of our filth. That said, a major selling point of this rug is that it hides dirt well. I didn't even remember that I needed to vacuum in there until I got on the floor to take pictures.


It's not deep or super plush, but it does feel nice underfoot. Zoe can rock tummy time on it, which is a necessity since this is the room where the magic physical and occupational therapy happen.


A lot of chevron rugs have a tight pattern, with uniformly skinny zigs and zags. Our front room - which includes the living room and dining area - already has a lot of pattern and color and detail, so I think any pattern smaller than this would make the room too busy.

(And, yes, as a matter of fact, that is a US Customs and Border Patrol ruler. Try not to be too jealous. Just part of the swag from my B.C. - before children - days teaching middle school on the Mexican border.)


Our kids love the pattern too. Cars have been lined up the "dirt" and driven so they don't fall in the "rivers."


Barbie has sunned herself on the "sand" while dipping her toes in the "ocean."


Dances have been choreographed to carefully keep feet on the "ground" without stepping in the "blue flames."


It's soft enough to be the perfect playing or walking surface (especially in a high traffic area), but it's flat enough that the surface is perfect for puzzles and board games.


Added bonus? It not only matches the front door, but also these fancy pillows I bought last year.


The rug was the last touch in our front room that brought everything together. It's so refreshing to feel like this is our home, instead of just the house we moved into ten months ago.


---{Details}---
I purchased the rug from Zulily for $169.99, not including shipping or tax. I have the 8x10 version, but it's also available in 5x8. Zulily is one of those daily deal sites, and the rug isn't currently available there... but fear not! I had been eyeing it on Overstock long before it hit Zulily: here's the link for the 8x10, and here it is in 5x8. This is the "medium blue," but it's also available in light blue, rust, and two black options (one with cream stripes and the other with the natural color). The price fluctuates on Overstock, so I would wait until it's at least 10% off and then use one of the 10% or 15% off coupons in my email (which you can get too, if you sign up for emails on their site).

Hope that helps!

a pop of beauty

Color makes me happy.

While burgundy is a fine color for some folks, it's just not for me. Especially the drab shade that used to be on our front door.

Excuse the exhaustion... our dear friend Heather took this picture the moment we returned home from Taiwan. It's the only picture of the front door I could find!

And the khaki that graced all the siding and exterior trim and side and back doors?

Y'all. 

To me, that's as bad as having it all the color of Pepto.


Yep, I'd take bright pink - and I'm not  a girly girl - over neutral, institutional shades of bland.

But now?


Much better.



We ditched the storm door, because we never use it and because the wood frame was literally falling apart.

Now?



Please ignore the evidence that I kill plants and keep weeds alive and well. Moving on...

This was the front of our house.






This is now the front.


Granted, the trim and shutters are a'changing too in due time, but I'm amazed at how much difference the door makes!


And my view as I sit and read or write in our front room?


Love.

just sitting around

Hi.


Whatcha up to?

 
Oh, me? I'm just sitting here watching my big brother race cars. (Did you know that Robbie is fascinating? Really, he is.)


Mom pushed me a bit far when she tried to get me to work on strength activities on my belly.


Rolling and crawling? Mom, those really weren't on my schedule for today.

Isn't sitting enough for you people? I mean, really.

Readers, next time Mom posts a picture of me crying, can you leave a comment asking her to hold me instead of letting me cry?

Yep, I'm her third kid, and she's still working on Parenting 101.

Me? I'm working on sitting for longer stretches of time. Maybe I'll try again when that captivating blond girl comes home.

softened hearts

My Nana is, well, Nana.

She doesn't put on airs. If she thinks something - like, for example, "not all black people are dumb. I know a smart one" - she says it, no matter how reprehensible it is. 

Lest you think she's just opposed to one people group, I'll have you know that she advised me back in 2004 not to bother on my grant application for a classroom library because my students were Mexicans and didn't need books anyway. I've heard her tell waitresses outright, "I know you can't help it, but I just don't care for you" or "You really ought to wear a different outfit because that one makes you look a little heavy, dear." (Those waitresses were white too; imagine what she might have said if they weren't.)

Yep, that's Nana. Offending people since 1922. Bless her heart.

(Well, probably 1924 or so, since I'm guessing she wasn't born talking.)

When we shared our plans to adopt with her in generalities before we even knew about Zoe, we knew her response wouldn't be favorable. 
So what's this business about adoption? You two make beautiful children, so you shouldn't bother with raising someone else's kids. Those kids could have something wrong with them too, you know, like special needs.
Oh, Nana.

When we told her about Zoe, she sighed. "Well," she paused. "I wish you luck with that." Then she spent the months leading up to Zoe's arrival telling us about every person with special needs she ever knew, specifically how much they had ruined the lives of their families and everyone else around them.

Then, when we brought Zoe to Nana's house for the first time, she ignored our new daughter. "Nana, this is Zoe," was met with a turned back, a walk into the other room, and absolutely no acknowledgement of our child for the first hour of the visit. Even then, her first comment was, "So, how old is that baby?"

I'm not going to lie and say her words didn't sting a bit. But I wasn't too bothered by them, and we were able to laugh off most.

Why? Well, first, I have no idea how I'd perceive adoption and ethnicity if I had been born in 1922 instead of 1982. 

Most importantly, though, I don't expect everyone to have the same call on their lives that God has placed on ours. Nana didn't adopt Zoe, so she's not required to love her the way we are. I'm asked to be faithful to what God has set before us, not to demand that other people agree with me or Him.

But this last visit?


It was different.


Zoe was acknowledged.


Connections were made.


Dare I say, love began.


Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
(1 Corinthians 13:7)


It wasn't a perfect visit, but maybe, just maybe it was the start of something precious.