Zero Left

Hidden in a corner of My Perfect World’s perfectly downsized (yet somehow perfectly uncrowded) home, there is going to be a big ol’ Zinc sink.

Not just because that’s a lot of fun to say ( C’mon, try it! “zinc sink, zinc sinc, zink sink”…) but because those suckers are marvelously useful. There was one in our utility room when I was a kid and it always had something or other sitting or soaking in it… 

However, when Dad renovated that room (after Mom was no longer around to protest,) he yanked that puppy off the wall, hauled it outside, and smashed it to bits. (Bits that I still periodically find with my bare feet, can I just mention.)

It was a wanton and callous sink destruction that impacts me to this day, because I’ve never found an adequate single alternative that can handle all the things that got done in that sink.

They are heavy, they are not always particularly pretty, but my heavens are they utilitarian!

And I’m going to have one.

Except mine won't be ugly.

*nod, nod*

Why, Yes.

Last weekend was spent at Thelma’s house and in the course of our many long, convoluted conversations, she mentioned that she’d like to have a pool. Since Thelma lives even closer to the shore than I do, I was a bit surprised - and said so.

“Well, I only want the pool so I can have a pool boy…”

            (*eyebrow wiggle*)

          Ah… Priorities. Got it.

While this still doesn’t make me want a pool, it did get me thinking. Thinking about all the things that never really get finished around my house, because I’m doing it all alone - and having to divide my attention. Cleaning, painting, demolishing, renovating, gardening, mowing, pruning, clearing brush, shoveling gravel… 

It’s an awful lot for one cresting-the-hill-of-middle-age woman, particularly the heavy stuff. 

I need help.

So, in My Perfect World, I’ll have a Yard Guy.

Brenden Fraser in "Gods and Monsters"

(and, you know, whatever happens, happens…) ;-p

Nearly There...

X-asperated

One of the reasons I’ve enjoyed contemplating My Perfect World this month is because I’m not particularly thrilled with the real world at the moment. You know, this one we all share? I’m not really sure how or when self-indulgent, petulant, destructive rage became fashionable but I’m more than ready for a return to tolerance, moderation, and common sense.

We really, really need to stop disrespecting/disparaging/hating/shooting/bombing/raping/torturing/maiming 

people who are “other”. 

My Perfect World will be Xenophilia-ted.

Wilder

W was another letter that suggested a number of topics - all of which are valid wishes but none of which felt quite right for my perfect world. I considered waterfalls, winters, washboard abs, wood working classes, allowing myself to be more wanton, (did I mention washboard abs?) … but I think, really, when I get right down to it, my W is actually something missing. 

Because in MPW, there won't be any Weenie Girl.

It’s not so much that I’m a scaredy-cat. I mean, yes ok, I certainly can be. But I’m also not bad at pushing myself through fear - for something I really want. But I seem to have this internal scale that weighs effort needed against likely results - and it’s pre-set to “conservative”.

I’d like to nudge that somewhat closer to “risk-taker”.

I’ve got insouciance enough not to worry about the opinions of others, the tenacity of a bulldog when called for, and I’m fairly well grounded - so it’s not like I’m completely lacking in the necessary skills for a walk close to the edge. Nonetheless, I always end up feeling stolid.

As opposed to my dad, who was a huge proponent of the “run it up the flagpole and see who salutes” approach to life, He did a whole lot of things for no better reason than to see what happened... or just to shake things up. I like that philosophy - but I also don’t like creating messes that I then need to spend time cleaning up. (I hate cleaning!) So I'm careful to think things through… and frequently decide not to leap once I’ve looked.

I’m not asking to be a daredevil. Nor is this a whine about My Life And Where I Went Wrong. I’ve done my best to work within the parameters of my personality and I have remarkably few regrets about past decisions I’ve made. But I do wonder sometimes what it would have been like if I were a bit more unrestrained.

So in my perfect world, I will be. 

(Bye-bye, Weenie Girl!)

Or Verso?

As I think I have mentioned before, my Dad was an engineer (not to mention a hands-on jack of all trades,) so dinner conversations at my house often consisted of some fairly scientific explanations of various projects that Dad had going. Chemistry, physics, mechanical principles - all were simply components of how my father understood the world, so that’s how he explained them to us.

For the most part, his explanations were quite comprehensible: logically explained and well-illustrated. Every once in a while, however, my tendency to invert things would rear its ugly head and muddle me up considerably. And like anything learned incorrectly first time ‘round, I would often struggle to remember the correct meaning from that point onward. Which meant that every winter, when it came time for an oil change, an argument ensued.

So, to save my poor father’s rolling eyeballs, in My Perfect World, I will understand Viscosity.

(It should be straightforward but I get turned around trying to recall if the thing being measured is the resistance or the flow... Is a high number super-sluggish or super-fast?)

(Don't answer that! I need to get this straight, darn it!)

Ubiety**

My grandpa was my favorite person to hang out with when I was little, despite the stroke that had taken his voice the year before I was born. He and I didn’t need words to communicate, as I’ve mentioned before, we figured it out just fine as we went along. He taught me to play checkers, there were endless hours of Hide-n-Seek’ing my dolls, endless patience and boundless love.

Often, however, Grandpa couldn't move around very well, so we would just sit in the kitchen, him in his old, faithful spring rocker, Grandma bustling around, cooking and ironing, and me entertaining them with riveting tales of whimsy and humor, told as only a 4-year old can. (You know, incoherent, poorly-structured sentences, punctuated with loud, random giggles and a lot of "um"s.)

Grandpa died when I was seven, and the kitchen was never really the same after that. It looked the same… that old rocker sat there for years afterwards - but the heart was gone. 

Eventually, my brother moved into that house and the first room he updated was the kitchen. It's beautiful, in keeping with the age and feel of the house - but it’s not the kitchen of my childhood any more.

One day, however, my sister in law called and said, “I found this chair that I think used to be in the kitchen. Would you like it?”  ... Could it be?  - Yes!!  - Grandpa’s Chair!

Completely stripped down, denuded of paint and drapery - in severe need of cushions and covering, but... Grandpa’s Chair!

Hallelujah!!

(Except, ask me how many years it has sat patiently in the basement, waiting for me to scrape together the money to get it fixed up.)

In My Perfect World, I will Upholster Grandpa’s Chair.

(**not one I knew but a serendipitous find!)

Take-away

Well, I told you that some of the things on my list fell under the heading of sheer fantasy…and today's letter tackles the biggest one of all. 

Brace yourselves, because

        In My Perfect World… 

Time Travel will be possible. 

No Tardis, tho’.  

(Tardises? Tardisii?)

Instead, I want my time travel to work the way it does in Jodi Taylor’s “Chronicles of St. Mary’s" (even tho' the author says we are NOT supposed to call it time travel!) 

I want to climb into a small, well-provisioned, and reasonably camouflaged hut and hop to specific points in time, just for the sake of historical research. Of course, you don’t get to change anything that way, so I don’t want to witness anything sad, like Vesuvius exploding, or major battles (from any war), the Hindenburg exploding, the Titanic sinking, or anything along those lines.

But, I would love to be able to know how the Pyramids were actually built… what the Parthenon looked like when the marble statues had all their paint… whether the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were real (and what they looked like if yes)… 

Imagine being able to watch a play in Shakespeare’s Globe… to peek in as Michelangelo paints the ceiling of the Sistene Chapel… to keep an eye on Roanoke… to be with Lewis & Clark when they first saw the Pacific…, to swing by Kitty Hawk on Dec. 17, 1903… to observe people hearing the first “talkie”… to rub elbows with flappers amid Art Deco at its height… 

Mostly, however, I want to see the Great Library of Alexandria!

Books, Egypt, antiquity. Need I say more?

(purely imaginary but it works for me!)

Time Travel

It needs to happen.

Shakespeare Says

“In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love”

Likely true, but spring simply turns this somewhat older woman’s fancies to thoughts of the upcoming season of fresh fruits and vegetables. I really enjoy summer produce, particularly when it’s home-grown. I don’t have the green thumb of my dad, however, so his once-magnificent garden has been slowly filling in with grass, producing only the sporadic stalk of asparagus and set onions. Those are yummy but not so much so that I will be wracked with pangs of loss when they age out.

On the other hand, I greatly regret the unfortunate lawn mowing incident rare plague that carried off my raspberries a couple of years back. I would check the canes faithfully every day, nibbling the few early fruits until the harvest came into full flush, at which point I would pick like a maniac and make as many batches as I could of raspberry sorbet, so I could, in turn, make my favorite summer dessert ever.

That treat has become a much rarer event since the raspberries bit the dust but in My Perfect World, my freezer will be perpetually stocked with Sorbet Meringue Sandwiches.

Challenge and Chocolates

And maybe a little chocolate and cuteness thrown in for good measure...

The Romance Of It All

I think I’ve mentioned before that when I was a kid, I really, really, really wanted to be an archaeologist - and the land I wanted to work was in Egypt. So when it came time to put together the list of features for my perfect world, I had a problem. A for Archaeology, E for Egypt, G for Giza, L for Luxor, M for Mummies, P for Pyramids… you see the difficulty. I was awash in far-too-like topics.

So I sat and looked and thought. I had to evaluate all the possibilities and prioritize them, determining which was the ONE thing I wanted above all others.

It wasn’t easy but I finally did pare the options down to one single adventure - which, happily, allows me to include all of these side adventures, as well:

                    The Pyramids, the Sphinx, the Valley of the Kings, and Memphis 

                    The Egyptian Museum, Citadel Mosques, and Coptic Churches

                    The Temple of Philae in Aswan

                    The temples at Karnak and Luxor

SCORE!!

Yep, in My Perfect World, I’ll be Riding a Riverboat up the Nile.

But not a big fancy-schmantzy one. No, no. It will be a vintage 1930’s steam paddler, à la Murder on the Nile. I shall recline gracefully upon a deck chair, fanning myself gently as Egypt slips lazily past. I will undoubtedly sweat and gripe about the heat during the odd moments when I’m not enthralled by everything I can clap my eyes on… but it will be SO worth it!

If you squint, I'm sure you can see me up there under the awning...

Quashed

Q, as so often happens, was kind of a stumper.

I had been planning to attend Quebec’s Winter Carnaval - which still sounds interesting - but I looked at some pictures and they all appear sufficiently jam-packed with humanity that I couldn’t quite justify “perfect world” status. (Not particularly a crowd gal.) So it’s been downgraded to “that might be fun if the opportunity comes up…” and no longer really fits in this list.

Nope. Sorry.
Pretty but we're not going there...

Which left me with a dearth of Q s and sent me back to my dictionary, *flippety-flip*, browsing and scolding myself for being such a flibbertigibbet. Not that it’s a big deal to simply change one’s mind, but that kind of quick flip of the switch is fairly emblematic of much of my life. I’ll have a goal and lofty plans for some wonderful thing that I’m going to do, then a minor detail comes along, bugs the pants off of me, and next thing I know, I’m stepping over the detritus of that agenda as I move on to the next plan.

In my My Perfect World, I’ll be somewhat less Quixotic.

quixotic

1: foolishly impractical, especially in the pursuit of ideals

    marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action

2: capricious, unpredictable

Play Room

I have to tell you, I’m beginning to understand why I find it so hard to downsize.

I’ve already taken that small house of My Perfect World dreams and crammed into it two card catalog bureaus, a dog, a lanai, and a set of 17-oversized volumes of the OED… 

And now?

I’m adding a Pinball machine.

Pinball is one of the very few games that I ever found to be completely addicting and frankly? I’m pretty bitter that the old machines have gone the way of the dodo.
My perfect world will change that.

It won't be some cheesy video arcade pinball-wanna-be thing, either - I will have the real deal.

Bright colors, flashing lights; loud, cheerful, noisy pings; chiming bumpers, lightning-fast mechanical flippers (doubles for the win!); a solid body to withstand the slams of me rocking and hip-chucking it incessantly (vector-correction is a real thing); and the occasional consumption of a quarter or two, just for the sake of authenticity. (Which it will then politely spit back because, Perfect World.)

I will also have a small bar nearby with unlimited popcorn and cold beverages, but that is more to provide a place for people to gather, courteously distant from the cussing, hand slapping, machine-shaking fool who is taking this all VERY personally.

Pinball for the win!

Outraged

I had a dream the other night that I was back at my first adult job… except this dream didn't reflect the happiness I felt at that job... this was more like a nightmare. 

In my dream, I walked up the graceful staircase I used to ascend every day, only to stop in horror at the top. Because in my dream, the magnificent 1933 set of The Oxford English Dictionary (all 17 big, fat, gorgeous volumes of it) was gone! Discarded. Disparu.

Dream-Me gasped in dismay, at which point some minion of Satan behind me murmured, 

“Oh, we never used that old thing anymore.” 

ACK!!!

Heresy! How do you discard a dictionary that explains not just the meaning of a word, but how that meaning has changed and evolved over time? How do you NOT use something that provides so many hours of fascination and rabbit holes? Most importantly, how will you ever learn the etymology now?!?? 

No, I did not enjoy that dream At All.

But it did lead to a resolution:

In My Perfect World, I will Own that big beautiful set of the OED.

(And never lose sleep over unknown etymology again.)

Nature's Winter Magic

I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights, so in My Perfect World, I'm going to! 

Since this is an “N” post, I should probably go all alliterative on you and declare that I’ll be going to go to Norway for this… surely a very fine place from which to see them.

However, to honor my little Finnish grandma and the trip we never got to take, I’m going to Finland for my Northern Lights viewing — and I must say that NOTHING about these pictures makes me think that’s a bad idea.

Just a few of the amazing images found here:

Antti Pietikäinen

Modifications

One of the difficulties in planning for your perfect world is the problem of altering your mindset. A few of the items on my little list here fall into the category of, “things I would change”… yet it stands to reason that in My Perfect World, there would be no need for change, as those things would already have achieved their Platonic Ideal.

This would, of course, be quicker and less complicated… but would also leave me fewer things to write about. So, for the sake of the challenge goal, in My Perfect World, I will be undergoing Mammoplasty. (Of the reductive sort.)

Of course, there’s actually nothing stopping me in this world, either. It’s an expensive operation but I know that insurance often covers breast reduction. True, the surgeon must remove a certain amount of actual breast tissue - not just fat - before insurance will cover the costs… but I think I could squeak in under the wire on that one. (I’m not so large that one wonders how I can stand up, but they are big enough to be a flippin’ nuisance.)

The problem I see with this, however, is that even tho’ I’d love to sport the results of breast reduction, there’s not a danged thing actually wrong with my breasts. I don’t particularly like them but learning to deal with things you don’t like is part of growing up, right? And realistically, they’ve treated me well over the years. (Even if they do occasionally go rogue and dial phones or practice typing on keyboards…) They’ve remained healthy, despite the genetic tendencies that took my mom well before her time, and putting them through a Ronco Slice and Dice seems like a damn poor way to pay them back for that forbearance.

Mind you, I am NOT judging anyone who chooses surgery - and I completely understand the desire, believe me. If the non-invasive technique of screaming “GO AWAY!” at one’s breasts worked, I would have achieved boob nirvana years ago.

Maybe my perfect world should just feature Acceptance, instead…?

Nah…

Mammoplasty.

I'll Just Hit Post and Walk Casually Away...

Lounging About

In yet another impediment to my downsizing, in my perfect world, I will have a Lanai.

Again, click for immersive experience...

Not just because I want a fancy way of saying “porch” - we have "veranda" for that. No, the thing about Lanais, at least in the way that I learned the word, is that they are a porch that serves as an extension of your living space. It's a covered outdoor room. People often sleep on their Lanais (altho’ this is far more feasible in Hawaii than New England) and it’s that sense of bringing the outdoor into your home, and your home into the outdoor that is so appealing. Fresh air, chirping birds, and wind rustling through the leaves are all very important to me… but it can be challenging to relax amid them outside. 

Because, for one thing, bugs. (Bugs are among the creatures whose right to exist I can grasp intellectually but that I have a hard time endorsing in reality.)

Even beyond the crawly things, however, a huge problem with outdoor relaxation is the lack of cushy seating. Outdoor furniture needs, perforce, to be “set it and forget it” - and that rarely coexists with comfort.

So I want a Lanai - a place to lounge and chill that’s almost outdoors, only better.

(Short of a Lanai, my perfect world will at least contain comfortable Lawn furniture!)

Knotty Problems

Today, the letter K takes us back to the craft bureau, but this time we are contemplating the tellingly large collection of tangled and tired-looking yarn skeins. The ones that flinch every time I reach for them, wailing, “Noooo! Stop torturing us! You know you cannot Knit!”

The difficulty is purling. It’s about the second most basic thing you need to know in order to knit, but there is something about having to change the way you pick up the stitch that completely confuddles me. I lose count, I drop stitches, I garter when I should purl and vice versa… Basically, my work becomes one gnarly mess... and I, a frustrated grump.

Nor does it help that I cannot read stitches. (That’s always the advice they give you for self-correcting. “Find where you made your mistake…” -  "If I could do that….! " *snarl, snarl*)

Nope.

They also tell you that you’ll get the hang of it after a while.

I have not found this to be the case. - Not at ANY point over the 40 years of trying.

Nowadays, I have accepted defeat. If I can’t use 100% garter stitch, knitting doesn’t happen.

But in My Perfect World, I will Knit a garment.

It can be a loose, sloppy, shapeless pullover with sleeves of differing lengths, I do not care.

As long as I have Knit it.

Jolly Times

No world, perfect or not, is worth anything without a big bunch of friends and mine are grand - I’m not giving up a single one of them. 

However… a person can never have too many friends and there are still oodles of people out there that I think would make fabulous chums. So, in my perfect world, they will be!

It’s actually one of the things I’m most looking forward to in that perfect world - those regular coffee dates with my close personal friend Joanna Lumley. 

Of course, it IS daunting to have friends who are way more attractive than you. (I’ve already bumped my nose on that one more than once!) But I’m willing to put up with being outshone because she seems like so much fun!

Although I realize Joanna has starred in a number of sitcoms, I first discovered her through her travel documentaries… which I absolutely love! Her sharp wit makes me howl with laughter but what I most appreciate about her is that she remains consistently respectful to all sorts of people. You can tell she doesn’t always agree with what’s being said - she often teases to make her point - but she is never mean or catty. She appears to be genuinely glad to meet the myriads of different people along the way and to see and appreciate the common humanity in everyone.

That, to my mind, is the mark of a class act... which is why she'll be one of my friends.

The “howling with laughter” part is just icing on the cake… 

Intense Disappointment

Several years ago, my Christmas presents included a bag of coffee from an exotic land. 

Now, you guys know I love coffee. But this particular coffee? 

          Oh. My. Word.

The taste was superb. Smooth and mellow and rich… yet my acid reflux barely registered that I was drinking it. (Usually I simply forge ahead because, hello, coffee. But still, it was nice.) 

This stuff was caffeinated nectar of the gods - all I ever wanted in a coffee, in fact.

Even better than the taste, however, was the description of the company that produced this coffee. It was a small local venture that had recently earned their Fair Trade certificate (always a plus in my book), worked with local cooperatives, and reinvested into the local economy. 

This was a coffee you could feel good about drinking.

I parceled the beans out judiciously, saving the coffee for long weekends, vacations, and other special occasions... but it’s hard not to blow through something that tastes so wonderful.

So the next year, I received TWO bags! (Ain’t Santa grand? Thank goodness he can travel the world to pick up the goodies.) But even two bags won’t stretch out forever, so I took matters into my own hands and looked up the company online. Yay, they had a web presence! Rubbing my credit card to make sure it was good and warmed up, I was just about to take some of the pressure off of Santa and order my coffee directly when... disaster struck. Political upheaval, rioting, and burning broke out - right in the vicinity of my little coffee company, which apparently took quite a hit. The website is completely gone and the Facebook posts have all but disappeared. Santa scrounged up one more bag of coffee for me and told me, “That’s it.”
As indeed it was.

But in My Perfect World, there will be an endless supply of Igikere coffee.

p.s. The single current post on the Facebook page, translation courtesy of Bookman:

“Igikere does not act as a social project any more, as they did at the beginning. They have become a commercial company like all the others.  

Coffee is like a good wine.  You drink it, you love it...

If only as a personally profitable project, come back to Buja Cafe!  
Extraordinary coffee, from a quality coffeemaker.”

Disappointing socially, to be sure, but it at least gives me a glimmer of hope for my coffee-drinking future.

Hovering on High

Before I head home from Spain, however, I need to swing by Turkey…

You already know I want to see Hagia Sofia, but no worries - I’m not going to repeat myself and use that again. No, in my perfect world, my Turkish H is found outside of Istanbul.

Because I’m going to go Hot Air Ballooning over Cappadocia.

Really - it's a thing.

I’m going glide in silence over the spectacular landscape, gawking at the fairy chimneys and peering into caves, looking for early Christian monk graffiti.

Oh, and by the way, since this will take place in my perfect world, there won’t be any of this hot air balloon traffic nonsense, colorful tho’ it may be. Nope, when I go, the skies will be empty, except for one lone balloon, with me in it. (Altho’ you can maybe tag along if you’d like.)

(I left this one clickable-y large, in case you'd like an immersive experience.
Just scroll down past the black.)

Gobstopping

I will, of course, have plenty of time and money to travel in My Perfect World… and one of the places I’ll be going is Barcelona, to tour the Gaudi buildings. Ten of his buildings are listed as “must-sees” but I’m not excluding anything. (In a truly perfect world, I’d get to stay in one of them for a month but let’s not strain our imaginations too much.)

I know this is supposed to be a writing challenge but words are not adequate to describe how amazing his designs are, so please just enjoy this little video.

Janeway Guest Appearance #2

Janeway and her coffee are keeping me company this month for April A-Z.
This pick is courtesy of my boss -  as he did this very thing to me on Wednesday...

Fancy Footwork

So while I’m going all sportif-ish on your asses anyhow, (with all those arrows and such) here’s another thing I’ll be doing in my perfect world:

Fencing.

I’m not sure if it’s my inner swashbuckler or what, but I’ve always thought that fencing just looks like a blast. Particularly if you get to fence à la Inigo Montoya and Westley, with meticulous advances and magnificent, lightning-fast engagements.

Altho’ I’ll admit, stirring tho’ those heroic lunges and energetic encounters may be, what I am particularly drawn to is the cat and mouse of it all… The precise choreography of advances and retreats - all performed with consummately superb posture and a large pointy object waved dismissively in front of your opponent’s face.

I just think that looks VERY satisfying.

Of course, all of the above is the perfect world version of how I’d fence.

Reality would undoubtedly look a lot more like this:

Evasive Maneuvers

I’m returning to my “Adult Content” roots with this one, so some of you may prefer to read a different post. I always try to keep these discussions reasonably tasteful but this is a topic that many may feel should be kept behind the bedroom door… yet, today the door is open.

You have been warned.

******************************

In my perfect world, I won’t have to spend any time Edging.

This is one of those D/s tropes that I really wish had never gotten out there.

“Ooh, have her edge 18 times during the day and by the time you get there, she’s wild for it! WILD, I tell you!”

Well, no…, actually, she’s cranky and frustrated, with a numb clit and a libido that is now sulking in the corner, refusing to come out to play.

Who comes up with these stupid generalizations, anyhow?

Granted, it’s a different matter if your aim is just devilish torture. If that’s the case, if I’m edging simply because you get off on the power of denying me, that I can deal with. (It will still be banished from my perfect world, mind you, but the reasoning does not make me cranky in the present.) This whole idea that you’re priming the pump, getting me horny enough to thrash and yelp repeatedly and mindlessly, however, is simply NOT a universal truth.

I will not speak for every woman out there - certainly, your mileage may vary on this. But for me, the more times I’m frustrated, the less likely it is that I’m going to produce your desired response. Rather, edging is more like a fast-track, high-stakes game of Use It Or Lose It. 

I wish this weren’t true. 

I wish my libido did function more like a man’s - singleminded, compound, and relentless. But it does not. If your goal is to turn me into a slavering wanton, a different approach is needed.

Yep, my perfect world is gonna be Edging-free.

Difficult Decisions

I was torn on my D topic because I came up with two D things I’d really like to include… and which are sort of mutually exclusive. Well, to my mind at least…

You see, in my perfect world, I will Downsize. 

Currently, in my imperfect existence, I am living in the house where I grew up, playing curator to every last bit of jewelery, furniture, kitchen gadgetry, and manly tools that my folks accumulated in their 50-80 years of life. Plus photographs. Not to mention a few odds and ends from Grandma & Grandpa's house, too. 

All of which is stuff that my brother & I are meant to split… if I could ever get him to say we can actually get rid of something. Generally, it’s “if you don’t want it, I’ll take it - just hang onto it for me until I get a chance to pick it up.” (Which, btw, he has been saying since 1977… but ask me how much has ever left the building…!)

Besides the heirlooms, I’ve also got rooms full of anything my brother ever owned in the first 18 years of his life, as well as all the stuff Dad stored for him after that. (Did I mention he hasn’t lived here for over 50 years?)

And that’s just his stuff…

Sadly, I also inherited the pack-rat gene. If you peek into the other rooms, you’d find a HECK of a lot of books, computers, dressers, dinnerware, and pottery, as well. The only up side is that as a single woman living in a family-size house, I at least have enough room that I’m not likely to find myself evicted from a condemned dwelling any time soon. If you don’t leave the common areas, you’d never know there was a problem!

But there IS a problem, and I’m tired of it. 

I dream of pitching it all and moving into a tiny home. Or at least, a very small one. I don’t mind if there is an actual basement with foundations, rather than a trailer hitch - I just want a whole lot less STUFF to have to take care of.

For example

Except…

My perfect world also includes a Dog…

…and dogs need yards to romp in. I refuse to turn into one of those people who gets a dog, coops it up inside all day, and then pays thousands of dollars to a doggie psychiatrist to explain why Fido chews all the furniture. Saying No to that.

dog/downsize, dog/downsize…

I think I am going to have to think a little more about my D-esires

Coveted Cabinetry

I’m not sure there are sufficient words to describe how very, very badly I want one of these:

a Card Catalog Cabinet

This thing is absolutely me in a nutshell.

It’s books, it's antiques... 

It’s Dewey decimal, numbers, and the ever-so-satisfying alphabetical order.

It’s my personal history. 

It’s me typing up a new entry card (yes, on a real live typewriter!) and having the head cataloger hand it back to me FOUR times to re-do, “correctly this time, please.” 

It’s a lesson in humility. (AND attentiveness!)

It’s pretty. It’s commodious.

I could store all my trinkets in one place!

I could sort my chatchka alphabetically!

I could hunt for a pen and take a trip down memory lane, all at the same time!

Unfortunately, they're stupid expensive - I could never ever afford one.

But in my perfect world…

I have two. 

Bestirring Oneself

Please tell me I’m not the only one with a bureau full of craft projects that are never quite completely finished?

I'm afraid I have a cache of needlepoint pieces that is completely out of control.

The problem, you see, is that I’m kind of a pill.

          (I’ll pause here a minute to let the shock die down…)

I only like doing the fun parts. I love to pick out the pattern, to watch the design fill out and bloom beneath my fingers. I like the relaxing effect of a mindless yet pretty activity. I would say I delighted in being productive as I relaxed… except there’s nothing productive about creating canvas after canvas that merely molders in a drawer.

In my Perfect World, I would Block my needlepoint.