One of the simultaneously scary and exciting things about moving and purging is the opportunity it creates for personal reinvention. What can feel like the ground falling away beneath you can actually be space opening up around you for your transformation to take place. While I dream about reinventing my life I'm reading inspiring stories of women who are doing just that.

Art is subjective; it can be quantified as being beautiful, inspirational or for the early painters a form of reporting the events of the day. Kitsch is more like syrup on top of ice cream. It is of the heart, the emotions and a strong dose of guilty pleasures. There are times when it is hard to tell what is art and what is kitsch.

I've never been one to wear words. I've never liked the feeling of paying to have someone's brand emblazoned across my chest or hanging from my arm. And I never really got into the whole graphic T, "Kiss me, I'm cute" type of look. (Let's not even get into having "juicy" printed across my derriere.) And statement-making tattoos? Not really me either. I guess I always sort of felt that, as a general rule, statement-making shouldn't be accessorized.

My mother has always had a well-appointed home.  At any given time in my life, from the time I was still living with my parents up to and including today, my parents' house has always been decorated beyond reproach: the couch always matched the loveseat, the art on the walls always complemented the colours of the furniture, and each room always had a theme:  mid-century Scandinavian.  Antique Oriental.  And twenty years ago, when I moved out on my own and started building my own home, I tried very hard to emulate her style.And then my daughter was born.