I. Unexpected Face
A face appeared in the old family blanket I've been darning (off and on) for three winters now. If I'd realized that would happen, I wouldn't have used a contrasting pink yarn.
At first I disliked the face so much, I thought about cutting it out and darning it again. What a pain that would be, and with so many other holes to fill. I decided to live with it.
The other day I glanced at it and for the first time I saw... a bear! with ears going up. Now I love it.
The blanket still has lots of little holes in the center, but the tattered edges are repaired well enough for daily use again. Here it is on my bed.
II. Unexpected Space
After almost six months here, I've still not fully unpacked or set up my room. It's not bothering me. I like feeling ... what?
Certainly I love feeling lighter, more on my toes, after 17 years living in one place.
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The possibility of three (!) house-sitting gigs recently fell into my lap. Two of them are month-long, so I'd get lots of time alone this summer, if they come to pass. All three popped up shortly after I decided to stay here and work on asking for what I need--especially for quiet time alone.
That's been going better than I'd hoped!
Not only does HouseMate agree, she supports it.
[Update: she never did really grant my request for quiet time alone, unless I was in my room with the door shut.]
For instance, the evening I came home after meeting the troubled young woman at work (who gave me the red card with psalms on it), I told HouseMate,
"I'm not going to sleep, I'm just going to my room to lie in the dark."
"I get it!" she said.
So, that's great. And I do feel at home in my room, even though I've done little to set it up.
Right now I'm sitting kitty-corner from the bed on my orange office chair, at my little fold-down music desk.
Well, here, I'll take a picture of it . . . unfolded laundry and all.
Oh, and you can see I got a painted silk, four-panel folding screen at the store. (Chinese, I think.) It's a bit worn--you can see it's been used; that's part of its beauty.
$22, because my store's like that:
IKEA flies out of there at top dollar––I paid $45 for a flimsy chest of drawers that only cost $120 new––while antiques just sit there, even priced rock bottom. (The music desk was $35.)
Like me, most people don't want the big old heavy wood pieces, even though they'll be standing strong long after my IKEA dresser has fallen apart.
A face appeared in the old family blanket I've been darning (off and on) for three winters now. If I'd realized that would happen, I wouldn't have used a contrasting pink yarn.
At first I disliked the face so much, I thought about cutting it out and darning it again. What a pain that would be, and with so many other holes to fill. I decided to live with it.
The other day I glanced at it and for the first time I saw... a bear! with ears going up. Now I love it.
The blanket still has lots of little holes in the center, but the tattered edges are repaired well enough for daily use again. Here it is on my bed.
II. Unexpected Space
After almost six months here, I've still not fully unpacked or set up my room. It's not bothering me. I like feeling ... what?
Certainly I love feeling lighter, more on my toes, after 17 years living in one place.
More mobile...
The possibility of three (!) house-sitting gigs recently fell into my lap. Two of them are month-long, so I'd get lots of time alone this summer, if they come to pass. All three popped up shortly after I decided to stay here and work on asking for what I need--especially for quiet time alone.
That's been going better than I'd hoped!
Not only does HouseMate agree, she supports it.
[Update: she never did really grant my request for quiet time alone, unless I was in my room with the door shut.]
For instance, the evening I came home after meeting the troubled young woman at work (who gave me the red card with psalms on it), I told HouseMate,
"I'm not going to sleep, I'm just going to my room to lie in the dark."
"I get it!" she said.
So, that's great. And I do feel at home in my room, even though I've done little to set it up.
Right now I'm sitting kitty-corner from the bed on my orange office chair, at my little fold-down music desk.
Well, here, I'll take a picture of it . . . unfolded laundry and all.
Oh, and you can see I got a painted silk, four-panel folding screen at the store. (Chinese, I think.) It's a bit worn--you can see it's been used; that's part of its beauty.
$22, because my store's like that:
IKEA flies out of there at top dollar––I paid $45 for a flimsy chest of drawers that only cost $120 new––while antiques just sit there, even priced rock bottom. (The music desk was $35.)
Like me, most people don't want the big old heavy wood pieces, even though they'll be standing strong long after my IKEA dresser has fallen apart.
It's definitely a friendly bear!
ReplyDeleteIt is! :)
ReplyDeleteWow, what a lot of work! But the bear popping up is pretty serendipitous.
ReplyDeleteThere are many days I want to just go in the bedroom and just stay in the dark!
Kirsten
My first thought was a Ray Johnson rabbit. But I was off — it’s a bear.
ReplyDeleteIt’s strange with unpacked stuff — I’ve found that if stuff sits long enough, it can be easy to forget that I ever needed it. One way to make it easier to part with things.
Isn't it sad how antiques have no appeal? As you said, it's much better furniture than what's produced now. But I get it -- my mom has all my grandmother's old mahogany, and I can't imagine ever having any of that stuff in my house.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful painting! I could look at that for a long time, every day. The rest of the room would just disappear.
ReplyDeleteMICHAEL: Ray Johnson! I like that, and I think it's ALSO a rabbit of his.
ReplyDeleteSTEVE: It is sad. Sometimes antiques even get destroyed, if they don't get sold. It's awful.
SALLY: Thanks for saying you love the painting! When I was just up at Lake Superior, I thought, This is my painting.