Friends, meet Mantle.

This picture was taken nearly three (yes, THREE!) years ago when Tim and I were looking at buying the quaint, crooked, little cottage we now call home. At that time, Mantle was dressed in a terrible coat of flat, white-ish paint; but he was full of potential…just like the rest of this crooked little house.

One day, soon after moving in, I decided to use some leftover black semi-gloss paint and give my man Mantle a facelift.

It worked, for the most part. It tied in the other dark furniture we had in the lifeless room, and with each season I would make an effort to adorn him with festive pretties. This was our first Christmas in this house. The little stocking was for Elizabeth. I actually made the wreath on the wall, and handsitched each of those sequins and snowflakes on to those stockings for Tim and I.

Over-achieving housewifery at work in me.

This past Christmas, Mantle looked a little better put together. Plus, we got real stockings…and a son.

Then, we decided to re-tile. Whoa, buddy, that was a project. But it was worth it, and Mantle was really starting to look good now!

Well, a few weeks ago, after painting some trim in Cole’s room, Tim walked into the living room, took a long look at Mantle and said, “I want to paint it white.”

I, of course, sprawled on the couch, eating a snack, blurted out a shocked, “Why??” I mean, Mantle looked great! He tied in with the black accents in our living room while still drawing enough attention to himself to gain a few compliments from guests…

“Because I think it would look better.” was the reply.

Obviously my feelings for Mantle are a little exaggerated in this soulful and drawn-out telling of his color transformations, because I simply answered, “Okay. Just open the window when you paint, will ya?” and continued eating my snack.

And thus Mantle became the wintery-white beauty that he is today.

To Pottery Barn and Pinterest: A combined thanks for the Give Thanks inspiration.

I feel compelled, after such a story, to recite, “And that’s what broke baby bird’s balloon.”

Anybody else well versed in The B Book?

With love, Malorie