copycat

My kids think that being a copycat is just about the worst crime you can commit.

It’s a battle cry against injustice that I hear all day long.

“Mosely copied my art project.”

“Bergen’s Lego man looks just like mine.  He’s copying.”

“Piper – you can’t eat the same sandwich I am eating.  You’re a copycat.”

But I am pretty much okay with being a copycat.

In fact, I love it.

I call it imitation and I think it’s a high compliment.

So when we visited my brother and his family at their home in North Carolina,

I was overwhelmed with my desire to copycat everything from my sister-in-law’s home.

Beckey is an incredibly gifted decorator and designer.

She can take stuff that looks like the stacks of things I have in our storage shed and turn it into beautiful art, stunning displays and fantastic collections.

Actually, we own a fair amount of the same basic supplies with which to work.

My mother was a collector of all things old, dusty, antique, enamel, wood or metal.

And she passed on her extensive collection to all of her children.

But even though we may have the same essential building blocks,

our towers never seem to stack up the same way.

Frankly, hers are always better.

Riley was teasing me as I flitted around Beckey’s house,

snapping photos of tables and levels hanging on the wall in a set.

But I was so inspired.

And I asked Beckey if I could share her sublime ideas on this blog.

She laughed.

I told her I wasn’t joking.

And she reluctantly agreed.

Reluctant, because she doesn’t think it’s all that amazing.

But I do.

Riley feared that I would come home and rearrange a bunch of stuff.

And she had good reason to be afraid.

What with my long history of rearranging and all.

So far I haven’t had time to accomplish many of my goals yet.

Except for gathering a bunch of old glass telephone wire insulators that had been accumulating dirt in the yard and arranging them (copycat style) in a wooden bowl on the kitchen table.

And pouring all of the Dawn dish detergent in a cool old olive oil glass jar.

And exchanging every boring plastic hand soap dispenser in our house with a collection of old bottles I had stored on a high shelf.

And ditching the kids’ ugly plastic toothbrush cups for sweet old-fashioned mason jars instead.

Just that.

So far.