NOSTALGIA

The past couple of weeks have involved me cleaning out a storage unit we've had for years. I didn't expect much going into it honestly; just laughing at a few finds and donating randomness that we, for some reason, held on to. Also, my number one goal was to find my family photos. The rest didn't matter.

I found poms from drill team sophomore year, ballet and jazz shoes, my drill team jacket, my first conversation from my "first real crush" (see above). My baby photos that every 80s baby took, Doc Martens that I decided to bring back in style. I also realize I can't judge anyone for loving One Direction because my thirst for *NSYNC was so strong I'm surprised no one threw me bottles of Gatorade to calm down.

chubbiest baby ever.

I know things don't mean anything, technically, and we have our health and what not and we should be happy, but let's be honest: things mean something to us. Maybe not in Prada this or Gucci that, but my dance shoes mean so much to me. It connects me to my childhood-awkward teen years. I wasn't the best dancer, but I was so happy doing it that it didn't matter; my Docs remind me of my "edgy" middle school years; my drill team hat reminds me of the random good times I had in high school, my sixth grade photos remind me to always keep tweezers in my in possession and befriend an eyebrow expert (you thought Burt has it bad).

I'm not finished yet. I want/need to find that photo album; I'm taking some old furniture to refurbish as part of this super budget home makeover so that's always fun. I really have no idea what else  is in store but I'm about to find out (please no more "love" notes). 

Until next time,
C

(photo credit: Five12studio Instagram)