Our Home

Our Home Tour

It’s been quite a while since my last post here! I didn’t intend to stop updating the blog for over a year, but it happened. In fact, I’ve dialed back on how much I post online in general. But today I have something fun to talk about: our home was featured on Remodelista! I’m grateful for the opportunity to share with others the space I’ve loved refining and making feel like home. It’s hard to believe we’ve lived here for 3.5 years already! Thanks so much to Remodelista and Fan Winston for the lovely write up.

I once featured our old apartment on the blog so it seemed fitting to do a tour of our forever home as well. It’s silly to say, but I enjoy each corner of this space and I’ve always found it difficult to limit myself when it comes to photographs. I took these photos myself (including the photos featured on Remodelista). I’m not a professional by any means, but these images feel like me and they represent our home the way we experience it: as a place of warmth, comfort, and ease. Please enjoy these extra glimpses into our space, and feel free to ask any questions you might have in the comments!

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Life

Eleven Years

Eleven Years | Good Bones

Eleven Years | Good Bones

Last Saturday my husband and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary, not with a big trip or fancy dinner, but doing one of the things that brought us together–spending time outdoors. We’ve talked about visiting Hitchcock Woods for years, never managing to find the time despite it being so close. My husband has fond memories from when he was young of exploring these gorgeous, expansive woods, his imagination running wild. He said they were a lot like he remembered–the same, but different, much like ourselves. Sleepy, quiet, majestic and magical, as if any moment a woodland creature or fairy might pop out and say hello. It was bittersweet to imagine my husband there as a boy.

In a way this outing felt like a new beginning, one that I won’t hesitate to let grow and flourish. My tendency to do the opposite, to despair in the grief and limitations of our lives, has become a kind of crutch itself. I always talk of how meaningful it’s been when people meet us where we’re at, but I never consider that I haven’t been willing to do that for myself.

This trip, these small steps towards allowing ourselves to see meaning and grace where we previously saw none, allowing ourselves the option of being better people, with, without, and for each other, that is what 11 years is all about. Enjoying the beauty the woods had to offer, not scheming to alter or improve, but allowing it to be, letting it fill us up. It’s a kind of restorative magic that I hope we experience more of, always together, always learning to love more fully.

We’re different than we were 11 years ago–we look different, our priorities are different, our schedules and preferences, our ideals and understanding of the world–but on this day it felt as though nothing had changed, just exploring, a simple picnic, wandering and wondering, getting to know each other more. It’s strange to think that even after 11 years, we have more to learn from each other and about one another. It’s exciting and humbling.

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Enter 2018

Enter 2018 | Good Bones

Enter 2018 | Good BonesEnter 2018 | Good Bones

I can hardly comprehend how another year has come and gone. 2017 was a whirlwind of activities and obligations muddled with intense grief, stagnancy, doubt, and getting my hopes up about things that ultimately did not work out. It’s not easy to admit, especially as I’ve tried to shield myself against it with well-meaning intentions and mindfulness in the past, but 2017 was one of the least joyous years of my life. When I reflect on all that’s happened to us, a quote I heard recently comes to mind:

“Grief has a way of becoming about everything in one’s daily existence…Everything bathed in the sadness of loss.” –David Giffels in Furnishing Eternity

It’s been increasingly difficult to open up to others about these things, in person or online. The more I share, the more I’ve been hurt, so I do what is familiar and easy in the short term–I retreat and close myself off to the possibility of connection, understanding, or empathy from others. While I could (and certainly have a tendency to) fixate on how the days, weeks, and months continue to weigh on me, I can’t ignore there is another side, a place of calm amidst the turbulent waters.

In terms of experiences, 2017 was a significant year for me. Though I was forced to let go of things that were meaningful to me, I also accomplished things I never dreamed I’d be able to do. I didn’t make as much art as I would have liked, but I found a renewed confidence in my creative ability, said yes to more opportunities, sold more of my pieces, and once again feel that desire to be productive and proactive. I’m making art I’m excited about again.

Though I battle self-doubt and lack of confidence on a daily basis, I put myself out there by accepting offers to model for women-owned brands I admire deeply, STATE (my post about it is here) and Elizabeth Suzann (more on this later in the year!). It’s not easy to be proud of myself–to even feel I’m allowed to be proud, or that what I’ve done is categorically an accomplishment at all. As a woman, a person of color, even just a human being, it often feels more natural to question or reject myself than to be confident or celebrate who I am and what I can do. That disturbs me on a profound level. In 2018 I hold no mercy toward the fear and self-criticism that limits my idea of what I can or should do.

I wasn’t able to remain as physically active as I prefer, as a degenerative disc in my spine coupled with foot complications demanded I give up running and seriously alter my productivity levels at home and at the store. But last year I reached out for help about my chronic back pain and have had some relief thanks to a chiropractor, physical therapy, and yoga (something I was too terrified to try for years). Some days are better than others, and I miss running more than I’m able to express, but I’m learning ways to not only manage pain but heal my body in the healthiest and most long-term way possible (I just got this book and I’m intimidated but excited to dive in). Looking back, it’s surprising how long it took to admit I couldn’t take any more pain. I was stubborn and felt weak. Settling into that vulnerability took a long time, even with my husband, but I’m proud of myself for pushing past the anxiety. While there may seem like more questions than answers about my health at times, I’m grateful for even the small bit of comfort and confidence I’ve found in beginning my rehabilitation. Collectively, all of these experiences from the past year, whether emotionally uplifting or devastating, have allowed me to recognize my own personal and creative needs with better clarity.

For months I have been ruminating on an episode of On Point that my husband and I listened to about anxiety (the episode was specifically addressing teens but I recognized myself immediately)–the idea that people with anxiety, which is different from occasionally being anxious, have a tendency to want to control and possess advance knowledge of how a situation will unfold. The unknown is terrifying, so anxious people feel it lessens anxiety to be prepared and know what to expect. But in reality this awareness and control of outcomes lessens the individual’s ability to adapt and react to stressful situations in a healthy way. It teaches the mind to follow prompts or rely on a script without connection to the real world, without real knowledge or development. I never thought of my own anxiety in this sense–that every time I try to manipulate or minimize “surprise” stressors, every time I try to control outcomes to the extreme so I know what to expect in advance, I’m actually doing myself a disservice. I’m preventing my mind and body from learning ways to adapt to unexpected events and think critically or problem solve on my own. The episode was unnerving and moving as it transported me back to the difficulties I had growing up. The overwhelming feelings I felt back then, and still do, came rushing to the surface, and I wept. Listening, I was fascinated, as though I was seeing and understanding myself fully for the first time (the first time I remember that feeling of intense anxiety was age 5, and it’s been with me ever since). My intent for 2018 is to combat the temptation to give in, to know or predict, control or prepare for every detail and possible outcome. Not knowing, despite the fear it evokes, helps me learn and grow, and I hope to experience more of that this year.

It goes without saying that this year I’d also like to focus on reading more (starting with this book, a sweet Christmas gift from my best friend), continue to rehabilitate my body and try running again, make more art, make healthy choices, and grow deeper in my relationships–serving others and myself well. Here’s to a new year–not a fresh start but an opportunity for growth and balance.

For those of you that read the blog, is there anything you’d like to see more or less of this year? More frequent posts? Less fashion? Interpersonal posts? Everyday life? Inspiration? Designer features? My personal art or outfits? I’d love to know!

Uncategorized

Enter 2017

Enter 2017 | Good Bones

Enter 2017 | Good Bones

image taken at OWL Bakery on our recent stop in Asheville, NC

When I look towards the year ahead, the year in which I turn 30, I’m particularly struck by the ideas of resilience and strength, qualities that are so rooted in regarding one’s life with wondrous appreciation and grace. It’s a key component to thriving with hope and joy that I’ve been lacking. 2017 is about cultivating positivity, working to shift my focus and redirect some of my misplaced emotions and unproductive conclusions. In that sense, my intentions for 2017 are not entirely different from years past and there are several things that remain ongoing works in progress.

I have plans to expand on this subject later, but in short, a major priority is to invest in friendships even when I feel misunderstood or alone in my experiences. I completely failed in that area during 2016. I was so convinced these relationships would just naturally happen without too much work, but the difference now is that I’m actively praying, putting myself in challenging social situations, and engaging in conversations with my best friend (who sadly moved to another country) and husband about ways to improve. I want to reach out and pursue others though it terrifies me, and not simply as an empty remedy to the loneliness I’ve felt the last year. There shouldn’t be a pressure to find deep, life-long intimacy, but I still need to explore how to better engage others, meet new people (especially at church), and grow the relationships I already have.

Another priority is to pursue knowledge and truth–anything that promotes healthy thinking and dialogue between others: reading scripture and praying with my husband, things we already do but long to do more fully and frequently; reading, not just for comfort, but for discomfort–to push myself to learn and study perspectives that may not be my own; finding a podcast or two that I really enjoy and listening regularly; learning a new skill or hobby; exploring with my husband and participating in more cultural activities and opportunities to engage our minds.

After all my surgeries, you’d think eating well would be the norm, but it hasn’t been and I’ve paid the price, so health is a priority this year. Everyone is different, but there’s no denying the link between my body’s ailments and coffee, sugar, gluten, and alcohol. None of them are worth regular physical pain. I’d be lying if I said a byproduct would not be to also lose weight that I’ve put on. Though I’ve had moments of confidence, I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. It’s easy to let difficult life experiences and emotional burdens drag me into a spiral of poor eating and decreased activity, but I’m ready to practice displine.

During the winter it’s not uncommon to feel oppressed by the cold, dark days. I myself retreat inward, which is often not a positive thing. Being thoughtful, intentional, and critical without letting it consume is an art worth practising. A recent post about the dangers of the hyper-examined life has been on my mind a lot. My husband has said that both my greatest gifts and biggest weaknesses are my sensitive heart and introspective nature. I felt this article was written precisely for me:

The hyper-examined life is exhausting. Life, including the Christian life, isn’t meant to be lived by way of nonstop self-appraising and people-pleasing. A day-in, day-out regiment of the hyper-examined life leads inevitably to burnout, frustration, and a nagging sense of unfulfilled desire not based in reality.

By contrast, the well-examined life is not driven by fear or compulsive self-searching but by a humble desire for grace. Personal failures are not meant to be endlessly agonized over but repented of, with confidence in God’s provision for forgiveness and transformation (2 Cor. 7:10). Confidence in the mercies of God disarms paralyzing fear, if we live life knowing that poorly made or even sinful decisions don’t exist outside the scope of God’s plans and promises for us (Rom. 8:38–39).

Instead of meandering from one thing to the next in search of the emotional fulfillment that always feels out of reach, living the well-examined life frees us to drop self-preoccupation and learn the virtues of gratitude and contentment. –Samuel James on The Gospel Coalition

Here’s to not allowing excessive introspection and fear prevent me from living well in 2017. Lord, help me seek diversity in experiences, perspectives, relationships, and means through which I strive to know you better. Help me reject indifference and make time to slow down and welcome failure as part of growth and joy in you.

And here are a few other things that have been on my mind so far this year: a case for drinking celery juice, a personal definition of minimalism that struck me in particular, and no-pressure tips on how to make friends.

Style

Golden Hour

Golden Hour | Good BonesGolden Hour | Good Bones Golden Hour | Good Bones Golden Hour | Good Bones Golden Hour | Good Bones Golden Hour | Good Bones

These photos were taken on a cold day in Cincinnati last week, when the sun started to fade and cast the most beautiful moody, golden glow. This outfit is without a doubt my favorite of the year. My clogs were a Christmas gift from my husband. They’re a lovely rich shade of bordeaux I’ve been dreaming of for winter and easy to throw on for my ideal balance of effortless and cool. My dress was purchased on our last trip to Charleston, back when it was too hot to even think about wearing it, and I’m so glad the temperatures at home resemble something of a winter now. My pants, the wonderful Clyde work pants from Elizabeth Suzann, are now a beloved staple in my closet. And the scarf I’ve had for many years–wearing it makes cold weather seem more exciting. It has pockets! All together I felt so like myself in this moment, browsing yet another bookstore with my husband. I’m glad he snapped a couple photos to remember one of the last days of the strange, hard, significant year.

Between our own holiday celebrations and post-Christmas time with both our families, I’m a little behind and feeling unprepared for 2017. We tend to have blindly hopeful notions of the new year–this great, sweeping fresh start where change is certain and immediate. A sense of hope has immense benefit and meaning, of course, but in many ways the new year is a lot of life as usual mixed with change that comes after tremendous work. Habit shifts and new beginnings don’t always happen overnight simply because the calendar year is different. I’m still looking forward to sitting down to reflect on 2016 and the kind of year I hope to have personally in 2017, like in years past, but for today I’m content taking it slowly.

In terms of the blog, though, I’ve had a few thoughts on my mind for a long time, particularly in regard to where Good Bones is headed. To be honest, I don’t look forward to blogging as much as I once did and I’ve opted for less involved posts, fewer personal daily life posts the last several months as a means of avoiding the lack of interest and creativity I’ve experienced. In general, my love for and inspiration found on the internet has been waning–largely due to insecurity, a tendency to compare, and the pressure I feel to be a polished blog that constantly delivers fresh and unique content. But for me that pressure is especially misplaced and unproductive, antithetical to my own goals when I first started out. I want to reign in my focus and not only reevaluate my goals but also establish a clear, purposed plan for meeting them. I don’t need to try and keep up in 2017–I can continue trying to do what’s right for me.

Our Home

Holiday at Home

Holiday at Home | Good BonesHoliday at Home | Good BonesHoliday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good BonesHoliday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones Holiday at Home | Good Bones

Nothing feels more cozy than bringing in a little green (and red!), a warm fire, and nostalgic treasures and traditions during the Christmas season, a time to celebrate our King. Though I have a subtle, restrained approach to Christmas decorating, these small touches are a calming refuge from overwhelming holiday stress, reminding me of the peace and hope he brings.

This year we put our tree up the day before Thanksgiving–in part because I grew up decorating on Thanksgiving, but especially because last Christmas was a very dark period in our personal lives and we wanted to reclaim the memory with something joyful and bright for as long as possible. It has always been a priority to represent our roots while also creating traditions unique to us–a blend of what we find personal and meaningful. I hang the stocking I grew up with and made a modest but sweet garland with eucalyptus from the tree in my parents’ yard. Our tree is decorated with David’s collection of ornaments given to him every year by his family, which we add to ourselves each holiday season.

When I can’t sleep I’ll go into the living room and turn on the tree lights to enjoy the display of warmth and love. Coming home to the familiar smell of our Frasier Fir is an enormous comfort, and I delight in having the curtain open to reveal our tree, knowing we’re sharing a little Christmas spirit with our neighbors. More than gifts, these are the things I remember year after year.

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Enter 2016

Enter 2016 | Good Bones

Enter 2016 | Good Bones

the only photo of 2016 on my phone so far

Now that all our family has gone back home I finally have a chance to sit down and think about the new year. I’m finding it hard to believe it’s 2016 when my mind is still stuck in 2015–waiting, in transition. Moving on to a new year with things still looming over us unresolved (the house, for instance) isn’t ideal, but perhaps that’s the best reason to look forward and rest in the knowledge that we have hope in Christ.

This year my desire is to focus on what I want to do rather than where I’m lacking, which I admit is a subtle and perplexing distinction. Being aware of my deficiencies is good, but not when it’s my main focus, when I’m self-critical and harsh to the point that I reject the Lord’s redeeming grace and love. This year is about organizing and meal planning more efficiently, downsizing our belongings again, getting out of the house often, visiting Nashville, exploring our city frequently, picnics, picking up my cameras more and my phone less, serving others, spending time with David, spending time with friends, making use of and appreciating what I have, enjoying stillness and resisting the pressure to fill every moment. This year is also about redefining comfort–looking less to food and drink to relax and unwind and not escaping life’s difficulties through endless television and laziness, but finding comfort in good health and moderation, in enriching art forms, in scripture, and in the sustaining satisfaction that comes only from the Lord.

2016 is sure to have its rough moments, but grace will still abound.

Uncategorized

Enter 2015

Good Bones // Enter 2015

Good Bones // Enter 2015

I hesitate to make resolutions as they tend to come across as disingenuous and are so often ignored, tucked away and never thought about after January. But I do believe it’s worthwhile to reflect and recognize areas that are a struggle for me, how I can work to improve my faith, marriage, mind, and heart. I’ll refrain from looking back on 2014, a painful year following several others just like it, with sadness and regret, but instead look to the year ahead with clarity and hope. Though I haven’t been perfect at it, I’m looking forward to continuing the efforts I wrote about on my first entry on this blog–to appreciate and see beyond life’s messiness and reveal what’s meaningful and genuine.

It is my hope to: Be myself without fear. // Buy less and save more. Live without. // Read no less than two books a month. More non-fiction. // Write more outside the blog. // Let the good in others outweigh the bad or the offense. // Forgive. // Cultivate an atmosphere of peace at home. // Be a thoughtful, generous wife. // Guard against complaining and negativity as a default response. // Try to make friends and accept that it will be difficult. // Spend more time outdoors. // Be less judgmental, more gracious. Do not withhold love. // Collage. // Dedicate time away from technology. Be undistracted. // Simplify my life, and my belongings. // Practice gratitude. Remember to be present and content.

More than anything, this year I endeavor to be a kinder, gentler person, less swayed by sinful emotions and more motivated by the redeeming blood of Jesus Christ.

Happy New Year, indeed.

Spaces

Lonely Estate

Good Bones // Lonely Estate

These are photos I was given permission to take at a house nearby. The first time I walked in, I knew I had to come back with my camera. My eyes were drawn to stunning textures and patterns, so many intriguing scenes left behind. The house seemed to tell a million stories, and I loved walking through, making up my own. I don’t know when I’ll get to pick up my camera again, so I’m especially grateful I was able to capture this beautiful home halted and worn by time.

Good Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely Estate Good Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely EstateGood Bones // Lonely Estate

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Instagram

  • These lilac pillow slips were my last purchase of 2019 before starting 6 months (at least) of no spending (wardrobe + household decor). I hope to better understand my spending patterns/triggers and find healthier, less expensive ways to manage negative emotions. Committing to it wasn’t easy which makes me all the more glad I did. Thank you to @insearchofcozy_ for being my inspiration and giving me the push I needed to start!
  • Last weekend I popped into a couple of my favorite Cincinnati shops, including @fernshopcincinnati where some of my original collages are for sale amongst stunning plants and the best ceramics. If you’re in the area, stop by and see Megan’s gorgeous shop for yourself! She’s been a supporter of my work for years and I’m so grateful. Also grateful that my little sister moved to Cincinnati for college almost 14 years ago and never left so I get to keep visiting 🤗🤎✨
  • Had a slow, ordinary, wonderful, much needed vacation where I barely took any photos. Missing family but happy to be home ✨
  • A few days after Apollo died, I opened a package from @charlotteswans and inside was a portrait she had drawn of him. Immediately I began sobbing, missing my sweet boy, but also so grateful to see his face which she captured perfectly and beautifully. My husband and I got it framed as our Christmas present to ourselves. It’s a gift we will always cherish. Thank you, my dear Charlotte.
  • Yesterday I posted this photo in stories but deleted it shortly after because I was embarrassed. I look angry but in truth this is my face at rest, albeit tired. Most days I look at my post-menopausal face and body and don’t recognize them, but in this moment the anger, sadness, and loathing I normally experience (which is a complicated topic) was more subdued. I liked the picture so I’m not sure I know how to articulate why posting it felt so unacceptable. Here it is again, acting as a reminder to just post the damn thing. Lately the need to be more open about menopause, something I’ve shared with very, very few people, is one I’ve felt strongly. I don’t know exactly what that looks like in such a public space, but I think it’s worth exploring.

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