where to begin to make sense of my life?
meditation?
good works?
therapy?
maybe.
but looking at my cluttered-up bookshelves, i think there
would be a good place to start.
those shelves, god, those shelves,
are filled with years of mementos, memories and just plain junk
(like my addled brain, perhaps?)
their depths contain, but are not limited to:
sea shells,
family photos (ancient and otherwise),
art books,
sailing & small craft manuals,
our wedding album,
indian rupees,
the remains of two (no less) of our beloved pets,
classic novels,
children’s drawings,
half-built legos,
travel journals,
a red phone (not in use - but looks like a direct line to the president),
a used-up matchbook from round hill (jamaica),
curtain tie backs,
a candy jar,
several italian travel books,
a robin’s nest (from 2 springs ago),
mixed tapes (yes, from the 80’s),
embarrassing book titles (‘dollhouse style’, anyone?),
a trophy from our 2006 ping-pong tournament
and loads and loads
& loads
of design magazines.
so, i’m going on an
expedition.
not the one i expected, mind you,
but the one i am able to do at this time.
i am going to go through every single one of those dog-eared magazines and
chronicle all that i love -
everything that inspires me or makes me smile -
and i’m going to record it here, along with what catches my eye everyday.
at the end of my journey
(fingers crossed)
maybe i will find my style
(& my sanity)
or maybe,
at the bare minimum,
i will have the bookshelves of my dreams....
la strada della dolce vita
the robin's nest
the remains of our beloved petulia & memphis up top
the "before" shots:
well, at least there's a
cozy place
to sit
& ponder....
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