The bookshelf is a cluttered towering monster that has taken on a life of its own. Upon it rests the owl collection, books, cameras, figurines, a 1930's jewelry box, and a painting by a senile Russian. On each side of it, are chairs that me and my Mom reupholstered and painted, sock monkey Calvin and Grace that she made for us, and our build-a-bear wolves. On the wall hangs a huge fork and spoon painted matte white and black, the antique Aspen picture, and a picture Calvin bought me in Manitou Springs by the Story People which says,
"I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, But all that comes to mind is the way you move against me in your sleep, & there are no words for that."
It made me cry.
Go to the left further and you'd see the disorganized deck, Calvin's desk, and further left is the bathroom:
The bathroom is bright and blue, it has a bird cage shower curtain, a little wooden stool from our wedding, a gold-leaf antique ashtray to hold jewelry, and a basket of matryoshka soaps. The shower is guarded by a plastic red octopus, but he is camera shy. If you walk out of the bathroom, passed the counter and sinks, then out of the bedroom, you'd be in the kitchen:
It is tiny and the stove has an analog timer. Everything is red and chrome and Coke themed because, like me, Coke is syrupy and nostalgic. There are more flowers, because there should always be more flowers. They are in just a few of many milk glass vases I've collected. On the fridge is a faux wood wall decal that says, "Bake Stir Sprinkle Mix" which is adorable, but a little misleading as I rarely cook. The kitchen is open to the living room:
Which is home to a big plain tan leather couch and a lumpy green papasan chair who are best friends. There are more books and another T.V., my favorite decoration of all; the home sweet home plate, and a retro coke thermometer. There is also a fish named Ponyo, and a sucker fish with no name, but they are also camera-shy. To the right are the stairs that lead down:
Above them sits a little castaway round table with an antique mirror, my dried wedding bouquet, a left over wedding flower centerpiece, and a glass bird. Hexagon shelves with sticks and flowers and candles in them hang above it. Down the stairs is mostly storage and clothes and a parakeet with split personality disorder, but I like this corner with it's chair that may be stolen, and a shelf full of curiosities and more chrome.
Dear little home, even with all of our clutter and knick-knacks and nights stayed up late, thank you for loving us and being warm and bright and keeping all of the bad out and the merry inside. Thank you for all of your quirks and for accepting all of ours. I hope we have many years together to come.