Some of you and I have known each other quite a long time. Some of us have been conversing here and on Facebook for a few years. I know lots of stuff about you, and you know lots of stuff about me. But only by inference. I mean you know how I feel about Republicans, and how I feel about God to a certain degree.
Lately I’ve been messing on Pinterest. I used to think it a strange and rather silly place. But actually it has led me to some ideas for decorating, and I’ve found a few recipes that look worth trying. But more than that, I’ve been able to indulge some of my favorite things. It’s sort of like a scrapbook without all the work.
So, I thought perhaps you might like to take a peek.
I’ve always said that you should come in my home and walk through it and kind of know who I was and what I believed when you were through.
So maybe this will suffice in a sort of way. This is who I am, would be, wish I could be. It’s what makes me happy and what makes me laugh. It’s what I might indulge in if I were fabulously wealthy. It’s just a snapshot, not the entire book. So come along and see.
I’m not an enthusiast of architecture per se, but I know one type that simply adore beyond adoration. I’ll just say Chrysler building and you get the idea.
I’d like to walk up this staircase.
I’d like to stand at the top of the first tier, just barely turning to come down.
I’d like to pause, with my satin gown and cigarette holder and a fluffy little dog in hand.
I’d smile in that Katherine Hepburn way.
And my Cary Grant would rush up to envelop me.
You see, on this staircase, jeans or flip-flops just don’t work.
It would be an obscenity.
You understand I’m sure.
Pink and black are art deco colors.
I would caress the lines with carefully manicured nails (this is a fantasy quite obviously).
Lalique of course. Designed by Rene.
I would call him Rene of course. We are friends.
He gave me this piece as a gift the last time we met in Paris.
I can dream.
But my Cary looks like this:
And we head out this door:
Plenty of room to create lovely food for you to enjoy.
They were Sicilians.
Their husbands/fathers/brothers were certainly part of the mob.
They taught me how to make sauce.
And I can make some sauce.
With some delightful ciabatta bread–full of holes, perfect for some pasta.
It’s really a lot about other people and other places.
So I do a lot of reading.
My reading, like everything else is eclectic.
Reading is kinda a journey through life. You grow from reading. You expand.
There is of course never enough time. Alas I cannot live long enough to read all that I should like to.
Fabulous people would (fabulous is the word of the day) inhabit my world:
We would talk of the Southwest.
We would talk of my beloved New Mexico.
We would speak of chiles and turquoise.
Of mesas and cacti.
Of impossibly blue skies, and red sands.
Of roadrunners and coyotes, of ristras and tortillas.
Of arroyos and adobe.
And of history, that we touch with each and every stone, each and every grass that blows in the wind:
But we would talk of the beautiful people everywhere.
You know the ones I mean.
And we would speak of places to visit:
Laugh at jokes and puns.
At realities and fantasies.
At absurdities and foibles.
We would be arrogant and humble and everything between and we would poke fun and assault each other with barbed jabs in a contest of quips.
Because it is.
And that’s why these trips into my head are so fun.
Because when I come out, I look around, and reality is every bit as nice.
It’s just fun to try on a different pair of shoes in your head now and then.
I think I like my regular old sandals just fine still.
How ’bout you?