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.
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.
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.
