To some people, "home" means a big, well-functioning kitchen. (Um, not to me. I have one of those closet kitchens with a folding door where two people can't cook comfortably side by side.) To others, it means family heirlooms. This past week, it's probably meant heat, running water and electricity, but that's another story.
To me, home has meant shelves filled with well-loved books (or books I'm anticipating loving) and walls filled with colorful art and photos of people I love. My New York City apartment fills the bill...
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| Art from travels abroad and my hubby's mother, Jan Chinnock, a talented Westport-based painter... |
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My Connecticut house, though, has never quite felt like my home. For one thing, my husband purchased it, and spends more time here. And as he (rightly) has said, my NYC apartment completely reflects my taste and personality; he felt he needed a place to reflect HIS personality. But now that I have this new freer work life, I am going to be spending more time here on the lake, and I need to feel that my husband's home is also my home. (Isn't that what marriage means?) So this weekend, unexpectedly free since friends from NYC who were scheduled to visit had to cancel because of the apocalyptic gas shortage, I got all domestic. First task: Unpacking the boxes from my office at SELF, where I also filled the walls with photos and art in an attempt to disguise the space's drab windowless-ness. Then I proceeded to hang all those photos in our guest room and bedroom, fill our bedroom book shelves with more of my books, and basically set about feminizing the place. (I still haven't succeeded in transforming the all-brown man-cave living room with the giant TV, even more gargantuan speakers and rows and rows of CDs but give me time. Just give me time.)
When I woke up this morning, I opened my eyes to the sunlight sparkling on the lake and streaming in the bedroom window, and photos of my nephews and friends on the walls. I think I'm feeling a little more at home. Finally. Maybe this getting laid off thing will teach me what being married really means...relying on someone and sinking into their care and going from "I" to "We" a bit. We'll see....
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| The bedroom with some wedding pics |
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| A bookshelf with room to grow.... |
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| A guestroom that no longer looks like an after thought |
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| Even the tiny coral bathroom gets framed, matted photos, courtesy of my office stash |
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| More wedding images and a painting of our pond from a local artist, Janet Zeh |
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| Fall grasses and the gazebo... |
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