Amy Seiffert

It was the afternoon of being a parent that you dream of. Rob at one end of the living room. Me at the other. Robby in the middle – walking. Walking to Daddy. Turning around. Walking to Mommy. 15 minutes of pure fun! He is on the move and we can officially call him a “walker”! 

As for my survey of “to save or not to save” on the hair…thanks for the thoughts via phone/reply/etc. My mom gave the best yet: “You just have to choose what you’ll be sentimental about – because there is a lot.” Good call, mom. Mom’s are great. 

This is Robby recently at the Zoo with his first cousin’s once removed. Or something like that. My Uncle’s children who are his age. Whatever.
 

Bowling Green has this great week, twice a year, when the college kids come to town and when they leave, called: Big Trash. For a week around the city you are allowed to put out whatever kind of trash you have – from the biggest to the biggerest.  And then you’ve the got “those crazy people” who go around like vultures hovering over the houses that we know will yield a bounty of exciting possibilities. My friend Sandy and I like to bring home all kinds of potential gems.

Our husbands refer to them as Orphan Trash or The Furniture Hospital as we then take on projects.

“This one just needs some new hardware.”
“Just a paint job for this table.”
“Missing a leg for this wicker chair? That’s nothing…white duct tape is all it needs.”

Every now and then you come across a piece that needs no work – only love. This is what I like to call Redemption Trash. This table just needed to find it’s place in this world. Don’t we all? Right at the bottom of my steps. Pulled fresh out of my neighbor’s trash across the street and down a block. Perfect. I would say at this point – 50% of my house has been furnished by those who were left out in the cold.