Friday, February 17, 2012

Symmetrical Sadness

I found a treasure yesterday in one of my favorite local stores.  This store is one of those antique mall/flea market places with sectioned areas all under the same roof and each measured space is claimed by a different individual.  I am fascinated by all that old stuff and could literally spend all day just browsing.  Daddy Owl has even recently suggested I procure one of the small sections as my very own and become one of the antique store pod people.

I have to admit I’ve thought about it.  It might be fun, but I would have to go into it as a hobby, because quite frankly it just does not appear to be a realistic way to make a living.   Most of the folks who go into these places are just like me – looky looers searching for that one special treasure that calls out to be taken home.  Actually now that I think about it, Daddy Owl’s suggestion is probably just his passive aggressive way of keeping the “stupid special treasure" crazy at bay and out of our house.

The latest purchase for him to scoff at was this framed print.  It was one of those things that stopped me in my tracks.  I immediately fell in love with it and kept retracing my steps back to look at it.  Not sure why.  I suppose because it has everything I love all wrapped up in one.  It is just so darn cute with its mid-century folk art appearance, graphic colors and shapes and c’mon, who doesn’t adore a black dog eating licorice?  I for one do so consequently it is now proudly taking up wall space in our dining room.  And just as I predicted, Daddy Owl proclaimed "That's stupid" when he spotted it after walking through the door last night.

In his defense, his comment was not meant to be hurtful.  It is just that his idea of art and mine are two different things.  He just rolled his eyes as I tried to excitedly explain that it was a print from an artist named Ken Bailey out of Seattle and that the limited edition originals go for far more than I paid for the entire framed deal.  Careful Daddy Owl, your plain vanilla is showing.

I love my husband more than life itself and truly believe he is smarter than most, but occasionally have to question his decorating sensibilities or *cough cough* lack thereof.  His idea of great design is a couch, two matching end tables, two matching lamps, and a large framed oil landscape hanging above all the Early American symmetrical sadness.  I suppose I could blame it on the fact that he was born with the X/Y gene combo right?  That has to be it.

Don’t get me wrong.  There is nothing wrong with plain vanilla and I suppose it has its place in life, just not always in my house.  I am forever trying to get him to think outside the decorating box and be just a little more asymmetrical, so visitors to our home don’t think they have entered a doctor’s office waiting room or worse yet, a Rooms to Go showroom.  Sometimes the symmetrical sadness needs just a bit of a shakeup by throwing in something unexpected like ummm, I don’t know, maybe a picture of a cute black folk art dog eating licorice?

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