Monthly Archives: March 2014

Where I wish I was

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a bad new hobby

When I drive down a city street at night, I confess that I often peek into the windows of other peoples’ houses just because.  I do the same thing when I walk home at night from the bus.  Oh I don’t stop the car, I don’t run up to windows but as I walk past I often give a sideways glance and look in.  Its not that I’m hoping to see nekkid people doing heaven knows what, its just that looking into other peoples lives sparks my imagination.  Some times, I walk by a house and its all cozy and nice and I practically want to knock on the door and make friends. Some times, I drive by a house and look up through the window and are awed to find a second floor chandeler or even a ballroom.  Its possible that the habit originated in the words of the Peter, Paul and Mary song, “Christmas Dinner.”  Whatever the motivator, I’ve been doing it all my life. I like to see the colors people paint their living rooms, their choices in sofas and the stuff they hang on the walls, the curious way they take down walls so that houses nearly identical on the outside are made completely different on the inside.  I like to imagine that I too live in a neat tidy organized well decorated sort of place.

In my second Cleveland apartment, there was a dancer living across the alley.   She had a dancer body and she walked like a dancer floating around her apartment and while my apartment was a messy student dwelling with mismatched everything, the apartment across the way came straight from a magazine.  One weekend, she painted her entire 5 room apartment different charming pastel colors in a single day and then had a big party to celebrate —from paint and rollers and drop cloths to full bore party with interesting people drinking things in glasses (and not just the cheapest beer in cans) in less than a day.  The line-up of our windows across the alleyway later led to discovering, that despite a reticience to hang curtains, she and her boyfriend preferred to wander their pastel apartment in the nude which eventually led to male students sitting on the stoop across the street from her apartment hoping to get an eyeful.

One never knows what one will see in that instant of peeking.  And really, when someone doesn’t put curtains on their windows, should they not expect passersby to peek just a bit?  Haven’t the curtainless waived the right to object?  and is it really that different from perusing a copy of “Natural Home” or “Architectural Digest”?  I think not.

But now I have discovered the lovely photos on airbnb.  Not only can I peruse the living spaces of Other Peoples  in my own city but I can peek into apartments all over the world!  I can compare decorating style in Stockholm to style in Seattle to style in Portland or even Tokyo.  I can evaluate kitchen layout and rate the fold away sofa.  I can see what colors (or lack of) are popular in which country. Without airbnb would I have ever really known that people in Stockholm really do decorate houses in yellow and black, that the combination is not simply an IKEA creation?  Or would I have ever guessed that significant numbers of people in Paris really do have apartments that are spare and neutral except for splashes of red.  Would I have ever realized what amazing space hogs we Americans are or how amazingly efficient a small place can be?

Thanks to airbnb, I realize I have been looking at retiring in a foreign country completely the wrong way. In fact, it might actually be possible to afford a flat for two or even three in London once I pare down the Stuff.  The excitement is debilitating–I can hardly focus on anything else.

In the right-now momment,  however, there’s the terrible downside of realizing that our residence looks, well, dreadful.  I now want desperately to redecorate our whole house or at least the parts that can be seen from the street.  Okay well maybe “decorate” is a more honest word to use since if I’m being perfectly honest, all we really did was throw all our belongings in and start living our lives in a new location.  Unfortunately life seems to eat up all the spare time that might be devoted to decorating.  So I shall continue to peek and surf and dream.

 

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Where I wish I was

The weasley's cottage

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Odd jobs

A pending mid-year review has me hiding in the corner Starbucks  drinking cafe au lait and wishing the day was already done so my stomach could stop with the flippy flops And I could be back home with the family.  As it turns out, my Starbucks is also getting a review–the district manager is here evaluating the displays and taking the temperature of the coffee and the milk and what have.  I never considered that  someone actually came to evaluate how they display the coffee and the tea though when I think about it, that is the key to standardization which Starbucks is despite it’s efforts to appear individual and cute.  Is it better to realize I am not the only person getting reviewed today or not?

I’ve been thinking about jobs more these days, my job and  those belonging to other people and those I might prefer.  I think it started when a big batch of people from my office retired.  All of the sudden I started thinking what would it be like to fill my day with volunteering and reading, cooking and knitting.  One day I realized I was actually feeling jealous that I had to go to work when I’d much rather not.  After all these years, litigation is draining and exhausting and full of negative energy.  I  don’t want to deal with recidivist defendants and their counsel.  I  don’t want to make war.  I want to do something positive, I just don’t know what that is.

The inheritance from my mother is enough to make sure we can have a good holiday every year and help the posse with college and buy a new sofa but it’s not enough to retire early on, not even if we do the small house thing and sell most of what we own.  So I have to press on and improve my attitude until I too can move on to the next step, be it writing or cooking or whatever.  I know the time will come. I just have to be a bit more patient.  Perhaps it’s time to start hitting my cushion again.

 

 

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Ten years. . . Happy Birthday!

let the baby drive the boat image

imageHappy Birthday!

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Seasonal in the darker months

I am sitting in the Muddy Cup with a giant cafe au lait.  My visit to the farmer’s market is all done.   From the last part of February through about mid-March, I go through the market much more quickly than I do in the spring and summer or even the earlier months of winter.  Even in Seattle where our climate is not so cold and snowy, by this time of year while the days are getting longer and longer, there still isn’t much in the way of produce.  I spend more time chatting with farmer/producer friends and less time pondering what to buy before heading for my coffee.

When I first moved the family to being “locovore” and seasonal eaters, this was the hardest time of year for me.   I would go to the market and see nothing but a few carrots, lots of Savoy cabbage, parsnips, jerusalem artichokes and some times brussel sprouts.  I’d never really eatten parsnips (though I did know they were a favorite of Gub-Gub the pig in “Doctor Doolittle,”), jerusalem artichokes strongly resembled dahlia bulbs, my experience with brussel sprouts was limited to the overcooked ones my mother had made and cabbage goes in cole slaw, right.   But now, 6 years into it, things have changed rather dramatically.  Roasted Brussel sprouts are a family favorite. as are roasted parsnips.  Parsnips also make a damn fine pureed soup.  Stirfried cabbage and bacon is a favorite family dinner that, even if it isn’t, feels like something a Chinese mom would whip up.  I’ve even found a recipe for the Jerusalem artichokes that doesn’t make 3/4 of the family go ewwww.  In short, even in the darkest months, I can make a good tasty meal and never have to go near the food co-op.  Now if I could only develop a habit of planning meals for the whole week in advance.

A Muddy Cup

 

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