Ain't No Junk in My Trunk... Yet.

Yesterday, I was presented with a very interesting opportunity. Upon helping my best friend Devon out with a chore at her grandmothers, I acquired a new and very personally-valued object. Our task was to go into her grandmother's basement and sort through old books so she could make some donations to her church. The books were stored in two giant trunks.

Oh, man. Did I ever love those trunks. Looked like something straight out of 1910, England. Or Harry Potter, for you young 'uns :) One was larger than the other, with brass rivets and heavy buckles closing it shut. The hard brown leather covering the outside had capped corners (also done in brass) and was covered in stickers from places all over the world, though faded and peeling. Lots of history behind it. Inside were drawers and compartments, and even a pull-out shirt rack. I loved it immediately.

The second trunk was smaller (though still almost too heavy for me to carry around) and had no drawers or compartments inside. Just one big open space. It had wooden ribs on the outside, which at one time were probably quite beautiful, along with brass capped corners and edges to protect the hardened tweed surface. Inside was a plaid wallpaper, used as a lining, and plenty of MOLD. Yum.

Anyway, we sorted all of the books out, and surprise! Her grandmother told us we could keep the trunks for ourselves. I loved the larger of the two, with the stickers and compartments, and Devon loved the smaller one, considering she'd been looking for a Hope chest for a long time (and figured this'd serve as a perfect one for herself.)

Needless to say, despite our preferences, I was stuck with the smaller of the two because her parents valued the bigger one more (as it was once her grandfather's, who is now deceased. The smaller was her great-grandmother's, and slightly less valued for some reason.) But, I still saw the potential in the smaller one, and still loved it. I began stripping the inside that very day, and discovered the wood underneath of the paper is like new. With a little love and attention, this trunk is going to be one gorgeous addition to my house! :D

Not to mention I'd love to take it on a train trip across Europe with me someday.
-- Pictures coming soon! As the progress of fixin' 'er up come along :)
-Bee

Food For Thought

Tonight, I went to see a movie. Julie and Julia.

The night began with me march-dragging my date across the parking lot, because we arrived at the theatre at exactly 9:15, the precise time that the movie began. Because of my incessant speed walking, we made it in with time to spare, (luckily someone started the movie a little late.) I then spent the majority of the movie squealing, curling up my toes and shielding my eyes from the blinding on-screen glory that is Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. I managed to shove down most of the large bag of popcorn I'd bought before the first ten minutes of the film was over, then made Prince Charming go and get me a drink (which I never ended up finishing anyways) and THEN proceeded to feel washed over with feel-good vibes at the lovely screenplay. It might be just me, because I love stories about people finding themselves, but might also just because I love food and this movie contained it. Lots of it. And maybe because I dream of someday being able to cook as well as the other women in my family (my mother and grandmothers are BRILLIANT cooks. And my great-grandmother, too. Goes way back, big food family. The line seems to have stopped when it hit me, however.)

I've had thoughts in my head for the last age about how I'd like to find that something to get me rolling. To give me direction. For Julie, it was a giant cookbook written by her idol, Julia Child, and the action of cooking her way through every single recipe in 365 days. Through creating, making mistakes, eating, and learning, she ends up in the same place at the end of it all, only feeling better about herself and her relationships. Plus she got a book deal. AND a movie deal. Sounds pretty sweet to me (no pun intended.)

Life isn't a storybook, normally. But it's something. And maybe it's about time my something came along to give me the shove I need. I could start painting again. Or writing more often. Or making costumes and jewelry again. There are TONS of things I could do with myself. Just got to get creative, I suppose.

- Bee