My house is in disrepair, but many parts of it are almost magical to me. When my husband first abandoned us, the house seemed very sad, and I didn't like to spend much time inside. But now, the space seems to have redefined itself. It is a real home now, not just one I imagine it to be. Even though the house needs much work, I appreciate the bare floors, the reclaimed walnut trim, the clay paint walls, and everything else I have done to the house.
A few years ago, I broke apart the black glass-whatever-it-was covering this fireplace and replaced it with cob. It was my first experience working with it, and it turned out wonderfully. Soon I'll add a photo. Instead of of sealing it, I painted it with "antique white" clay paint. I carved a diamond shape above the opening and placed a fireplace tile, with a bird flying across it, in the diamond. The tile was from the late 1700's. I then built a mantel of sorts from some of the reclaimed walnut. On it I have a very rustic antique clock, which cost more to fix than I paid for it, a plum glass net float on an iron base. There are also colored, solid glass balls and some candlesticks. The only other thing on the mantel is an owl my son made for me out of supersculpy last Christmas. Above the mantel is an antique gothic arch mirror and a bodhran drum with dragons painted on it. I have two antique owl andirons in the fireplace and usually have candles burning (cotton wicks) in the evening. It makes a very soft light.
The fireplace is flanked by built-in bookshelves I helped my stbx make. When I am home, my favorite hours are spent at the computer, listening to music, writing, or planning a garden. I'm an information addict, so I also read. A lot. And of course, the candles are lit and the Kailash incense is burning. Most of the time my son spends with me, but he is with his paternal parent at times. We have a very good relationship, and although I initially thought I wasn't really helping him these past few years, I realize I have done a good job getting him through all of this. A few days ago he said that at first he thought what his father did somehow had something to do with him, but now he realizes it's a life separate from his, and that it has nothing to do with him.
Every time a strong wind storm passes through I make my way through the neighborhood and park to bring back the huge branches to make more garden supports. From the last storm I brought in two very nice branches which I wrapped dark blue Christmas lights around. They are in pots against two of the walls. I put them on every night.
I should probably mention tea here. I don't think any culinary phrase is as wonderful as "a pot of tea". Tea is life for me (and writing). My son loves when I make Chai. I like it plainer, when I can really taste the leaf.
I love to write poetry, prose and stories. I'll post some here soon. Meditation is good as well. I love Tibetan music and Native American flute. I play a few instruments, and will probably learn NA flute this year. I am also refreshing my knowledge of braille and trying to learn Lakota, but I have to say I can listen to a sound many times and still not distinguish a difference. It's a simple, yet difficult language.
Now all of this makes me sound pretty mellow, but I like powerlifting and physical work equally well(I pitchfork-up my entire garden...around 1500' sq), as well as bands like Blackfire. I have too many favorite songs to mention, but they are from all genres and all eras.
Some of my favorite authors are August Wilson, John Edgar Wideman and Breece Pancake. There are just too many to list.
I'm also interested in vintage crime, and spending hours in the library looking through very old newspapers.
I'd like to hear from others. It's a very small world.
