Right now -- like, right this very moment -- I am sitting in an antique chair, at a vintage, family heirloom desk, in my glorious Florida room. And I am writing you from the writing station I share with Jon-Michael. It is awesome.
I feel good setting this area up -- like I'm getting my creativity back. I've been stifled for a little while -- trying to get inspiration when my world was packed away into a 10x20 storage unit was difficult. But tonight, Lord, tonight, it's all coming out of the boxes. Right here, right now, right behind me, I have about four boxes in process of emptying. I'll try and have it wrapped up before Jon-Michael gets home from work, but who's to care? He won't. I have the music jamming on the xbox (we haven't come across the ugly stereo we used to have yet.) and I am uncovering all kinds of inspiration in these boxes.
First fantastic find -- the photo album from the Grand Canyon -- trip we only took 10 months ago, but feels like an eternity ago because of all that has come to happen since then. I bought a goddamn house. Every single day I pull into my driveway, each time I walk the doggies around this beautiful neighborhood, every time I wake up in my super fantastic master suite, I have to pinch myself. Is this place for real? And truly, it's not that the house is so amazing, it's just that it's mine. We live here; we own this and we can do whatever we want within these four walls. That is a powerful feeling; one that evokes so much pride.
Back to the album; it's going on the back of the piano in the living room. It's one of those albums -- first of all, Christina and Christian put it together and mailed it to us from Austria after they returned from that trip -- it's one of those albums that everyone can enjoy; it's not just one stuffy, lame picture after another. And no, that isn't my biased opinion. The photographs, many of which I did not take, are beautiful.
My parents and I were talking about family furniture today. They came over and I showed my dad what I had done with his desk -- the one he bought with his first house and has now passed down to me. I can't define how it made him feel, but the vibe I picked up on was an extremely positive one. He said he loved what I'd done with it -- which was really just give it a good Old English rub-down and change the hardware. I'm talking about the desk I'm sitting at right now. It's so perfect.
But Mom and Dad were asking me what I wanted from their house. They have loads of antique furniture that I am knowledgeable about and that means something to me. They want me to pick some staple items to keep and pass down to my children. How could I ever decide? I know I want a beautifully wood-trimmed mirror for my entrance way and some unique glassware for display, Mom is giving me her vintage camera collection to add to my own, and I've already got the piano and the desk and chair heirlooms. What could I ask for that is iconic of my youth and suitable for my home?
Nothing stands out more than the rest. Maybe when I go visit again in two weeks, something will hit me.
I feel good setting this area up -- like I'm getting my creativity back. I've been stifled for a little while -- trying to get inspiration when my world was packed away into a 10x20 storage unit was difficult. But tonight, Lord, tonight, it's all coming out of the boxes. Right here, right now, right behind me, I have about four boxes in process of emptying. I'll try and have it wrapped up before Jon-Michael gets home from work, but who's to care? He won't. I have the music jamming on the xbox (we haven't come across the ugly stereo we used to have yet.) and I am uncovering all kinds of inspiration in these boxes.
First fantastic find -- the photo album from the Grand Canyon -- trip we only took 10 months ago, but feels like an eternity ago because of all that has come to happen since then. I bought a goddamn house. Every single day I pull into my driveway, each time I walk the doggies around this beautiful neighborhood, every time I wake up in my super fantastic master suite, I have to pinch myself. Is this place for real? And truly, it's not that the house is so amazing, it's just that it's mine. We live here; we own this and we can do whatever we want within these four walls. That is a powerful feeling; one that evokes so much pride.
Back to the album; it's going on the back of the piano in the living room. It's one of those albums -- first of all, Christina and Christian put it together and mailed it to us from Austria after they returned from that trip -- it's one of those albums that everyone can enjoy; it's not just one stuffy, lame picture after another. And no, that isn't my biased opinion. The photographs, many of which I did not take, are beautiful.
My parents and I were talking about family furniture today. They came over and I showed my dad what I had done with his desk -- the one he bought with his first house and has now passed down to me. I can't define how it made him feel, but the vibe I picked up on was an extremely positive one. He said he loved what I'd done with it -- which was really just give it a good Old English rub-down and change the hardware. I'm talking about the desk I'm sitting at right now. It's so perfect.
But Mom and Dad were asking me what I wanted from their house. They have loads of antique furniture that I am knowledgeable about and that means something to me. They want me to pick some staple items to keep and pass down to my children. How could I ever decide? I know I want a beautifully wood-trimmed mirror for my entrance way and some unique glassware for display, Mom is giving me her vintage camera collection to add to my own, and I've already got the piano and the desk and chair heirlooms. What could I ask for that is iconic of my youth and suitable for my home?
Nothing stands out more than the rest. Maybe when I go visit again in two weeks, something will hit me.
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