We stopped at a store in Solvang that I had never been to, Picket Fences. Now, my home is totally not shabby chic, but I do have an appreciation for it somehow. I love elements of it but I don't choose it for my own home because I know Billy would throw a fit. He already throws a fit about our home decor, although I think it is a nice mix between Pottery Barn and Anthro. Home decor has always been a touchy subject between he and I. I have friends who's husbands have told them to do whatever they want. The problem with us is Billy wants a say, but doesn't usually have very attractive solutions. Months ago we had an argument, you'd never believe, about how he felt that the house was "mine." That if it were up to him he would live with hardly anything, and would even be fine with a light bulb taped to the wall. I promptly burst into tears. I don't know what the man expects, really. Perhaps plaid and a heaping pile of dirt next to his bed would be his thing. Then maybe he could get pet snakes again, and keep them in some shanty man cave. And shower like every third day, shoot, maybe even once a week. Over my dead body.
So yes, the goodies inside Picket Fences were loved by me. I even hear some oohs and aahs from him as we perused, so I asked, "do you like this style, love? Would you be ok with more of this in our house?" He looked at me and replied "Hell no."
I hope you like these photos I snapped while I walked around the store, cuz the moral of this story is that's pretty much all I will ever see of them either!