My Things

If you see my house, the first thing you would notice is that I'm a maximumalist, not a minimalist. We recently down-sized from a 4-bedroom house to a 2-bedroom townhouse. There were a few non-negotiable items, mainly my library. One of the bedrooms in the other house had been devoted to all my books. We bought a bunch of bookcases and put a small desk, as well as a couple of comfortable chairs, in the room. It was my escape place. All my books represent my whole life. I still have books that my dad gave me when I was little. I love to just stare at them. Pretty sad.
Anyway, the move required some serious redistribution of goods. My piano went to my mother; my antique butcher-block went to my younger sister, and my four-poster bed went to my niece. These are all on loan, at least in theory. Will we ever up-size again? That's a doozy of a question.
In the mean-time, I still have all my books, albeit they are all over the house instead of one room. I have all my things that make me feel at home. People probably make fun of me, but I didn't have much as a kid, and I'm very attached to the items that I've acquired over the years. They all make me feel secure. I have a family picture wall, a sailing picture wall and lots of etcetera walls. I love color and comfort. I love mixtures of old and new, hairy and bare. I once read that a room is incomplete if it doesn't have at least seven different kinds of wood. Not surprisingly, I meet that requirement. I love finding odd-ball things, but I have drastically cut back.
Just don't have the room anymore.

A great book for learning how to make wonderful knots: