Rodrigo

So I tend to be very sentimental. I get attached to memories, places, people. Whenever I leave a place I cry. Like my parents home, I cry. Grandparent's home, I cry. The grocery store... ha I kid... maybe.

So I have LOVED decorating our house. It has been so much fun. Right after we got married I decided our kitchen was in DESPERATE need of a cookie jar and after mentioning this to Jason and getting a response that went something along the lines of "Oh yeah, if you had a cookie jar you'd get even hotter." I decided it was in my best interest to get a cookie jar. 

 I'm going to tie those two paragraphs together now. I began scouring the internets for a cookie jar that would "complete me kitchen matey" (what would a post be without a friends reference? nothing I tell you.) So one afternoon I sat with my vanilla coke and my laptop scrolling through etsy when suddenly I saw a cookie jar that looked so familiar. All growing up my Grandma Jo had the same cookie jar, I have since found out that she had it most her married life. I quickly took a screenshot and emailed my Grandma who is currently in Argentina. Not having the patience to wait for time differences and such I also texted my Dad and my aunt, and sure enough they both told me it was the same. Later that evening I was even more certain when my Grandma emailed back and said "is that mine? or a different one? They are the exact same!" 

Now I said at the beginning that I get very attached to places, all growing up my Grandma Jo's home was one of my favorite places in the world. It had this smell you know? and it was beautiful and adobe. They had built the house when my Dad was little and had lived there since. There were just so many memories bundled up in that house and you could just feel it, does that make sense? 

Sorry I'm getting a little carried away. So I found the cookie jar and I couldn't not buy it. It was fate. I am sure of it. So for $20 plus $10 for shipping he was mine. I'm not going to lie I spent the week a nervous wreck. Worried he would break in the mail. But one fateful Friday morning there was a box on our front stoop. After a good washing he was good as new. And that is how Rodrigo Lucius St. Vincent III came into our family. 

You can see my Grandma's cookie jar in the back right corner of the counter.

and ours!