I feel like the first page of an alphabet book

...but there are far worse things than spending
an Afternoon,
Addressing cards and eating
Artichokes.

And stretching and lifting weights ;-)

(no subject)

dianthus is moving into a hobbit hole. It's small and cozy, with hawthorne and holly near the door, with low ceilings with beams across them, and a patio looking over a little ravine. Looking at it I was kind of jealous -- I love living spaces, and small living spaces best of all. And I've never had an apartment all to myself.

Now community people need to take over the apartment complex next to the tennis courts...

But I came home, and looked at our place through the same eye... And I love our place too. Every time I walk into my kitchen it makes me happy. (Okay, maybe not if it's really messy...) I love the high ceilings, and skylight, and brickwork, and the oven. I love my sponge painted countertops, the brass goat's head hooks, and the little cabinet shrine, with it's pierce work pentacle. (And I usually think pentacles are a bit silly!) The wide freestanding bread board. The tapestry on the back of the bookcase. And then I love going up to my office where the ceilings aren't so high, and the walls are covered by bookcases, and seeing my harp standing off to one side, and the purple brocade lantern hanging down... (And the green plush snake overflowing from the top of the bookcase, and the tiger thing around my monitor... The decor is weird... Especially the presents from Craig. It suits.)

I have mixed feelings about my domestic projects, sometimes. I've spent so much time recently trying to get things accomplished, and sometimes the cooking and the garden and the house just seem like distraction from that. Between the martial arts and those... I have time, but it's limited. Sometimes I want a simpler, more focused life. I've been thinking a lot about the ways in which community involvement doesn't fulfill me, and how I have to balance the things I want in my life (but that eat up time) like making bread and tending the garden with my other projects.

And then I have a day like today, running errands, addressing cards, spending time with D and seeing her new place, making a light lunch and dinner, and I remember why I've made the choices I have. I love the richness, and the texture of this life. I love the rituals around cooking, around the turning of the year and the holidays. I like knowing cool people I can spend time with, even if I don't do it a whole lot.

I haven't gotten all the pieces together, but darn it, this *is* the life I want.

(Or one of them. Damn. I've done a lot for thirty, but still...)