"A good home must be made, not bought." (J. Maynard)

A history of my homes (thus far):

In 1999 I left home for college. For my first roommate there, I was lucky to be paired with a girl that I got along with...personally. Not really in living styles. We thought we did. But I was unorganized, she was untidy. I happen to know that in her adult life this is not the case. But it was then. And it was a small dorm in an old building. We had a couple posters...but nothing really to decorate. (Despite my sisters best efforts with mom's money and a some fabric from Walmart).

First semester Sophomore year I lived in a sorority house sharing a suite with three other girls. All of whom had boyfriends. And in Theta (all sororities, actually) you couldn't have boys in the living quarters, so these ladies were rarely at home. My one roommate in particular never unpacked for that whole semester. Boxes in front of the tv. And that year housing corp passed a new rule preventing us to put nails in the wall. (Silly silly debates and protests about this, btw, uper serious at the time) Thus, no art on the wall.

Junior year in Philly, I lived with four strangers in a three bedroom house. It had sewage spilling in the basement. I loved that house. One roommate painted naked girls (modeled from the Victoria Secrets sent to the house in his name), and hung them throughout the house. Art on the wall...just not what I had envisioned.

Senior year I lived with three relative strangers (one of which turned out to be my dear dear friend) in a HUGE renovated old house. One of the first to be built in Greencastle. An amazing house. Tons of fun. Brought me many memories. And I will never forget my chance to live in a mansion. But we moved in a little late after DPU's attempt to put us into a two bedroom apartment. This place was so big that we never really had enough furniture to fill the vast space, plus that first semester, I was writing my Thesis-I was a little busy and so the only art I brought around was 3 x 5 pictures of my girls who lived allll the way on south campus. Oh and my Dad wouldn't bring me a bed from his house, so I slept on a mattress borrowed from Kappa with an air mattress piled on top of it. It was a twin bed. Lovely. Just never really had time to settle into it. Did I mention that I lived in a mansion?

Out of college I lived with three old friends. Wonderful friends but as "adults" we were relative strangers. They had lived there for a year prior to me joining them. Someone moved out and I picked up where she left off. Didn't need to bring furniture. It was all there. Brought my bed and my clothes and moved in. Was able to cozy into my own room, but the house was already established. Great for entertaining, but this house was suited more for keggers not dinner parties. That was also where we were in our lives. Alas.

For a brief time I moved back to Mom's. With my old pictures on the walls and the bed spread given to me on my 10th birthday.

After that I got my first apartment when I lived alone. It was tiny. There I was able to settle into my own style a bit. But it was too small to entertain and waaaaay too small for a couch.

Then I moved in with Sara. She was amazingly accommodating to help me feel comfortable in her space. But again, like before, I picked up where someone else had left off. And this time I didn't need to bring my own bed.

And now (doot do dooooooo.) I have my own apartment. That's big. That fits a couch. Where I can hang my own art. And entertain my own guests. As mentioned things have been a little rough lately, but I can't begin to explain how much joy, and pride I have found in bringing myself into this space. When I first looked at the apartment, the girl who lived here was a mess. And yet, I knew it was for me. Even when it looked like this.

My bedroom (Structurally intended to be the living room, but I don't like people to walk through my bed room to get to the bathroom).

My bathroom. Same shade as one from the living room. Yup, I said 'one of'...there are three shades.

Kitchen

Hallway.

Living room. (Again, intended to be the bedroom. And I actually like the yellow).

And then I bought some textiles at Ikea. (God bless that place, btw...even if I do have to go to West Chester for it). And with $100, my bed room looked like this.

Isn't it amazing what a little color will do to a space? I smiled so much with this transformation. And now, the time has come for the most personal touch of them all...art. Dad, mom, SKK, and Carrie came over to help hang art (and eat roast). And now...doot do dooooooooooooooo. It looks like this!

Bedroom. Featuring my wall of accolades, and a GHG original (that my father constantly reminds me that I stopped working on too soon...always with the positive reinforcement).

Bathroom. Note the softer color courtesy of my sister's amazing talent for color and space. I love the purple.

Kitchen. Love love love this space. Love having people around the big table. Love the work on the wall. Love that they are all my pieces collected from various travels. Love that they will be added to. Love.

Hallway. Had to put the sport memorabilia somewhere. My mom's always concerned that my house won't look like "a girl lives there". (On a different note, Carrie learned why Crosley is named as such.)

The yellow is much softer with table lamps and not the overhead insterrogation lights. And I now sit on my couch and look at that wonderful piece of art brought to me by SKK. I love this room.

So for those of you keeping score at home: I live with no strangers. Just me and my homeboy, Crosley. I have my own furniture (some of it has been adopted...thanks Suzy, Engels, mom, etc). I have my own art on the walls. I have room for a couch.

I have a place to entertain for dinner.

Home.