How great is the playfulness and energy of these lookbook photos from Polish children’s clothing brand Czesiociuch?

I’m curious. Where do you fall when it comes to harem pants? (They’re also referred to as genie or Aladdin pants, hammer pants, or Turkish trousers.) I happen to love them, but my husband doesn’t “get” them.

At all.

It’s a good thing I just had that epiphany about blogging more work-that’s-not-my-own-AKA-inspiration, because it appears my theory is going to be put to the test.

Immediately.

See those allegedly cute feet in the photo above?

Minutes after that image was captured, those very same little feet forcefully met with an open lens and shutter, causing springs and small parts to loose from their confines and fall onto the sidewalk, rendering the aforementioned camera slightly less than operable.

Then she went inside and colored on the stairs with pink and blue sidewalk chalk, leaving me to lament over the damage her kick left in its wake.

If you need me, I’ll be rocking back and forth, with a tiny spring in one hand and a brownie in the other.

See more of Priscilla Barbosa‘s photos over on the Babiekins Magazine blog, as well as some of my thoughts on being too high-strung — me, not her. ;)

Remember back before Pinterest, before Tumblr, when inspiration was tactile and we could circle it with sharpies and cut it out and tape it to notebooks and stack those piles of inspiration on our desks?

Before Pinterest, these are the images I would have torn from the Early Summer 2013 Serena & Lily catalogue.

This post by Holly Becker of decor8 has absolutely re-energized the way I look at blogging.

Too often lately, I’ve had a misplaced sense of pressure to produce 100% original content for this space. I’ve pulled back from sharing the incredible creativity of others, because of the incorrect notion that I’d be perceived as a copycat for showing you something amazing someone else has already made (despite the fact it would be attributed to the original source, credited, and linked).

Holly writes, “Some blogs only accept exclusive content. Other blogs won’t share what another blogger posted no matter how much they loved it because they are scared to upset someone or appear like a copycat. I’ve been teaching blogging classes online and workshops for over 4 years and most of my students are terrified to blog about something if another blogger already covered it. This can ultimately lead to the death of blogs as influencers and early adopters. Really gang. While I’m all for columns, exclusive stuff, taking your own photos, etc. I think balance and caution is needed.

How can we influence something or adopt it if we fear writing about it because another blogger already covered it?  How can we discuss trends if no one has images to share supporting those discussions unless they take these images themselves – and because they don’t have the images they clam up?…If we all become fearful or run our blogs like they are magazines where only exclusive content is featured and we refuse to share something another blogger covered, what will that mean for blogging?”

To me, what Holly says is even more impactful and powerful because she’s an incredibly creative individual who has loads of original content to her name. I mean, she’s the author of two books (both of which are in my living room at this very moment) and has a terrific blog with an active and engaged community of readers.

If you blog, or are any other sort of content creator, I highly urge you to read the entire article, as well as her responses in the comments section.  It will challenge you and free you, I think.

As for me, I’m done being scared to blog about a trend, a photograph, a brand, or another creative just because a big-name blogger has already pinned it to Pinterest. This space should be where I can share what I love, without fear.

I have a feeling you might be seeing a lot more of inspiration here in the coming weeks.

Mug via Hilda’s Hem

Macaw via Sharon Montrose

Anchor rug via Garnet Hill

Napkin via Anthropologie

Ceramics via Chantal Césure

Mixteco bedspread via Maggie Galton

Bowl via Anthropologie

Mexican Fabric via La Viva Home

Quilt via Selvedge Magazine

I love cobalt blue. It’s the theme of the dishes, art and towels in my kitchen — and it reminds me of home, dear family friends, and beautiful memories.

Outside, the sun shares the stage with the ragged-edged clouds, like an old shadow puppet show.

Inside, lego pieces click into each other and climb higher, building a tower which rises higher in imagination than it does in tiny reality. Johnny Cash strums on his old guitar, and sings through the decades, through record scratches all the way through to internet streaming.

I tap my foot without realizing it, as I pull laundry from the dryer and pile it into a basket, a colorful tangled-up heap of he-and-she-and-small person. There’s the lingering aroma of coffee and lavender, of biscuits and clean clothes.

There are dirty dishes in the sink and the bed is unmade and the couch pillows are on the floor, but I hum along and Aveline dances and this corner of Wednesday is the most beautiful place on earth.

THANK YOU!

Every time I read this verse, I’m struck by its straightforwardness. And every time, it tears me up inside. Defend the orphan. How?

Deep down, I want to be Gladys Aylward and take a hundred children to safety. I want to just run out to the edges of the world now and scoop up all the waiting children and take them home — all of them.

It tears me up inside that I can’t.

I feel so helpless. I feel like I’m not doing anything, and that’s a torturous feeling when every fiber of my being knows it’s wrong to do nothing.

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” (James 1:17)

How can I do that?

A few weeks ago, after attending One Hundred Million Reasons to Celebrate, I was broken yet again by this burden. Several of the speakers there had been adopted out of orphanages, and as they shared, God asked me again, “How are you going to be my hands and feet?”

I don’t know the answer to that question yet. All I know is that I’ve been unable to ignore it. I can’t get it out of my mind. “Vindicate the weak and fatherless; do justice to the afflicted and destitute.” (Psalm 82:3)

While I continue to wrestle with the “how?”, I’ve been trying to help my friends the Jensen’s on their adoption journey.

And so there are 140+ auction items being bid on right this minute, and every dollar goes towards to the Jensen adoption fund.

Would you consider bidding, and sharing the auction link on Facebook, Twitter, or even your blog? It runs through May 6.  We can’t all be Gladys Aylward, but we can all help the Jensens bring one orphan home.

“We must be global Christians with a global vision because our God is a global God.” -John Stott

Today, we decided this was the best way to handle the clouds and the humidity and the mud and the rain.

Today, we decided this is how you embrace what you’re given.

Today, we made the Fed Ex man look at us sideways and made our retired snowbird neighbor burst out laughing.

These are the things which fill a muggy, dark afternoon spring to overflowing.

Boots: c/o Poco Nido | Tank & Leggings: Thrifted

Earlier, I had all sorts of things I was going to say, but I think the sun fried all my brain cells. Priscilla and Aveline and I were off exploring this morning, and I am pretty sure all of us are now completely melted — it was HOT today!

But don’t miss her very cool (heh) photo tour of Aveline’s time in a Brasilian supermarket, from our outing to Silva’s last week!

As I sit down this afternoon to share the prettiest kind of cleaning and organizing inspiration with you, I have to be honest and say that sometimes when I clean, things get ugly.

You should have seen me in the kitchen earlier today. I decided to take apart the entire crisper drawer and lower shelf assembly inside the fridge, so I could give it a good scrubbing. That was fine. But putting it back together was another story, since all the parts disconnected from each other when I took them out of the fridge.

An hour later — sweating, frustrated, and nearly in tears — I finally managed to get everything back into place. (At one point I even downloaded the owner’s manual PDF from the manufacturer’s website. The only help it offered on the plastic piece in question? “Note: Be sure to replace center support before reinstalling glass shelf.” Gee, thanks!)

I’m not sure why I allow things like that to get me so riled up and frustrated. A whole lot of pride and indignation, I suppose, “I should be better at this! If this is still taken apart when Josiah gets home, I’ll be so embarrassed!“ But it’s a ridiculous sort of thing to get angry about.

It’s just a fridge drawer (or rather, a series of pieces, which, when properly aligned, magically comprise a set of drawers.) And contrary to the arbitrary pressures I put on myself constantly — news flash! — I don’t actually have to be good at everything (like making crisper drawers out of puzzling plastic parts.) I don’t have to be an expert at all the things. I don’t have to be an expert at all. And I don’t have to be perfect.

Now why is that such a hard lesson for me to learn?

Organized Swedish pantry via Jordgubbar Med Mjolk

Wicker laundry basket via Crate & Barrel

Coffee art print via Billy & Scarlet

Towels and soap via the portfolio of Johanna Pilfalk

See even more Monday’s Pretty Things

I’d love to make more of these. There’s no end to phrases from great books I could envision stitched out like this. And couldn’t we all use a little beauty infused into everyday chores?

What sort of words would you like to see on a linen towel?

It was my mom’s birthday yesterday.

She taught me — continues to teach me — countless things, among them the simple little fact that everyday chores can be infused with beauty.

She has a incredible touch which makes every little corner so pretty. No one can transform a space so quickly from generic to home like she can — she can make a hotel room feel like you’ve lived there your whole life, and you’re coming home.

She teaches me a cloth napkin folded in half underneath the French press can upgrade that morning cuppa from a routine to an experience.

She teaches me ragged, torn, stained towels belong in the rag box, not in the kitchen.  

She teaches me to stop mid-morning or mid-afternoon and savor something, like a tall glass of iced tea.

She teaches me no matter how little one has, it can be made beautiful through a combination of cleaning and contentment.

And most importantly, she’s taught me to start cooking an onion if Josiah’s on his way home and I haven’t yet started dinner.

You too?

Here are seven pretty rooms I’ve had my eye on this past week.

via Caroline Coehorst, styling by Femke Pastijn

via le dans la

Mini Empire wallpaper via Ladnebebe

via Hildas Hem

Mikael Axelsson photo via Feel Inspired

via Baby Ramen

Studio Oink via Bloesem