An Ode to our Ranch House

In pursuit of simple living.

Our house was built in 1953. So you might think oh cool, a midcentury modern gem. Nope. It’s just a regular old raaaanch. It’s long. So long, in fact, that we had to buy a mesh Wi-Fi extender. We moved in a month before our 2nd child was born. He’s a toddler now and there are still boxes we haven’t unpacked. Most of the walls are plaster and painted a color I like to call institutional beige. Thank goodness my mom loves to paint and the kids have a bit of color on the walls now. I certainly haven’t figured out how to keep two kids fed and alive while completing a single DIY project. There’s also a great wood-burning fireplace we haven’t had serviced yet (it’s also not cold here until February most years and this year our February has consisted of several 75-degree days).

A friend from high school that I still keep in touch with shared a post on Facebook the other day that got me thinking about how what we consume begins to consume us. Maybe our simple home is enough. We don’t need a new rug or a deep clean or color-coordinated glassware to be content. Home is where the heart is, right? And during the holidays she really begins to shine.

While I can wait on curating the perfect gallery wall, I can’t wait to hear little feet stomp, stomp, stomping across the hardwood floors on the way to our bedroom for a middle of the night potty break, or the rustle of wrapping paper on Christmas morning, or the POP of a balloon we’ve been holding onto for months, or the deep belly laughs that fill our vaulted ceilings with the most joyous noise after an afternoon tickle session. Right now home is about living in the moment. Cookie crumbs and all.