Some times I forget just how many things I have that were made for me. My father and grandfather spent lots of time building things in the shop when I was little. My sister and I have twin beds, I have a china hutch that was a child size of my mother's china hutch. Lots of furniture in my parent's house was made or refurbished by my father, the deck chairs and tables, dinning room chairs, bookshelves, coat hooks, coat trees, and let's not forget all the wood floors in the house.
Now I have Jeff and he makes things too. I think I take it for granted because all my life people have made things for me. When people visit they always remark on these things. Jeff made many of the cups, bowls and vases. Most of the art on the wall is his. He made the table, the desk, computer chair, the shelves in the bathroom. I value things much more when they have been made or at least adapted by hand. Actually looking around the apartment every piece of furniture was come by in an odd way. The bed was traded for a case of beer, the table chairs are from the Good Will in Ames, my desk and little set of drawers is from the big house, the side table is from the Good Will in Pennsylvania, the arm chair is cast off from Ray our landlord. I think I like it that way. Everything has a story and I value it all the more for that.