Four years ago, I bought a calendar called "A Place of My Own." Each month featured delightful drawings of cluttered homes, porches and yards, complete with lazy cats.
My clutterbug nature understands clutter and cats completely!
I half-joked to my friend that I got the calendar until I could get a real place of my own. Since then, I've stayed in places, but they just haven't felt like my own.
What makes a house a home? What makes a place a place of my own? I've got a list of 'feels like home' necessities. Books, seashells, candles, incense and teacups make up part of the list. And even though the places I've lived have contained many of the items in my 'feels like home' list, they haven't felt like a place of my own.
I'm not sure what ingredients are missing, but I'm not going to worry about it. I figure, when I find that right mix, I'll know that I've found a place of my own.
Until then, there's a lot of hominess out there that will tide me over until I do find the right mix! One such 'tide me over' tidbit is a blog I've loved since I first read it some months ago: "My Shabby Streamside Studio," by Sandy Foster.
The blog's author has a haven from the outside world, a tiny Victorian cottage that truly is a place of her own. Beauty abounds in the shabby-chic oasis and is inspirational. It nourishes the soul. Enjoy!
© Coffee Fairy
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
An Arrow of Carnations, Between the Shadow and the Soul
I had a run-in with the Soulmate. It's usually at coffee shops; I'm sure you're not surprised!
"I have to tell you a story," Soulmate said.
He always did have a fine way of startling me with his non sequitur-like actions.
Soulmate put his arms around me and hugged me. Normally I would have been thrilled. But instead, I found myself trying to maneuver around him. He tightened his arms around me.
My mind went into panic mode for a few seconds, trying to find my way out of this potentially sticky situation. It reminded me of when I was little, with the feral cat who used to hang out around our house. I coaxed him into the house one day and he flipped out, banging into walls and glass doors, trying to find a way out.
Like the cat bumping into walls, I kept on bumping against Soulmate's arm, looking for the weak spot that would give way so I could escape. All the while, Soulmate is uttering sweet nothings - "I miss you and I love you and you could just call me sometime and .... ok."
His sweet nothings might have turned into sweet somethings except they trailed off because I dodged the advances and walked away, the "and .... ok" ringing in my ears for days afterward.
The next exchange I had with the Soulmate was a mix of springy elevation and wintry groundedness. He told me that sometimes, he just wants to see me and talk. I felt like I was hearing a line.
"But you're never there," Soulmate said.
"Wait, what?" I said. "You drive by my apartment?"
In the four second pause that passed, I saw panic in his eyes, like I had trapped him, just like he had trapped me outside the coffee shop.
"Sometimes," he said.
My insides turned mushy and I felt myself being lifted on this euphoric wave. It was like this little green daffodil shoot had poked its way out of the hard ground.
Hope sprang eternal because the man drove by my apartment!
But then I came crashing back to reality; he was probably only giving me a line.
"You drive by my apartment," I repeated. "No you don't."
And I slammed my hand down on the green daffodil shoot and pushed it back into the ground.
© Coffee Fairy
"I have to tell you a story," Soulmate said.
He always did have a fine way of startling me with his non sequitur-like actions.
Soulmate put his arms around me and hugged me. Normally I would have been thrilled. But instead, I found myself trying to maneuver around him. He tightened his arms around me.
My mind went into panic mode for a few seconds, trying to find my way out of this potentially sticky situation. It reminded me of when I was little, with the feral cat who used to hang out around our house. I coaxed him into the house one day and he flipped out, banging into walls and glass doors, trying to find a way out.
Like the cat bumping into walls, I kept on bumping against Soulmate's arm, looking for the weak spot that would give way so I could escape. All the while, Soulmate is uttering sweet nothings - "I miss you and I love you and you could just call me sometime and .... ok."
His sweet nothings might have turned into sweet somethings except they trailed off because I dodged the advances and walked away, the "and .... ok" ringing in my ears for days afterward.
The next exchange I had with the Soulmate was a mix of springy elevation and wintry groundedness. He told me that sometimes, he just wants to see me and talk. I felt like I was hearing a line.
"But you're never there," Soulmate said.
"Wait, what?" I said. "You drive by my apartment?"
In the four second pause that passed, I saw panic in his eyes, like I had trapped him, just like he had trapped me outside the coffee shop.
"Sometimes," he said.
My insides turned mushy and I felt myself being lifted on this euphoric wave. It was like this little green daffodil shoot had poked its way out of the hard ground.
Hope sprang eternal because the man drove by my apartment!
But then I came crashing back to reality; he was probably only giving me a line.
"You drive by my apartment," I repeated. "No you don't."
And I slammed my hand down on the green daffodil shoot and pushed it back into the ground.
© Coffee Fairy
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