I always wanted a red door.

So people would know what they were getting into right up front.

Our last neighborhood had an HOA who did not approve of "flashy, red doors" (or individuality, apparently).

So when we moved into this house, the first thing I did was paint the door red. I have a friend who does "door readings." Red means it's a friendly house. Black means that someone important lives there, etc.

My red door though, is peeling a bit and the primer is showing through...I think this means that I'm far from perfect and if you are too, then this is friendly place to be. (Welcome to all the busy, the frazzled, the not-quite-theres, the maybe-tomorrows, the "firefighters," and the doing-the-best-I-cans. You will find more of this imperfection inside...welcome.)

Now that I really look at it I can also see a lovely layer of dust as well and my bedraggled wreath has seen better days...more evidence that my life is not quite all-together. I'm okay with that though, because hopefully my home is a place where it is quite alright to be flawed.