Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Rain
I woke up to rain this morning. It was exactly what I needed; it's exactly what I need. I was in a car accident yesterday - I'm fine, but I hurt my hand and my neck is stiff and these kinds of things always put you into a bit of a state of shock, so a cozy day like this one feels much easier to slip into than a day full of harsh sun.
I realized I've never described my environment to you. I'm reminded of the episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" in which Larry declines to take the tour of his friend Jeff's new house ("Hey, let me give you the tour" - "Oh, no thanks, that's ok"), and Jeff's wife is outraged, deeply offended. If you don't want "the tour," then by all means, decline, and I will not be offended. :) But I picked up "The Right to Write" yesterday, a book I think I've mentioned here before, and it talked about the importance of describing your setting, as a way of allowing readers to get to know you...so here goes.
Right now I see: full red tulips craning out of a tight turquoise vase, which sits on the coffee table I got for $20 from an ad in the City Paper almost 8 years ago. I got the tulips for $9 at the grocery store last weekend. The table sits on the chenille area rug my husband and I bought on a whim one afternoon in Ellicott City - squares of navy, periwinkle, gray. I am sitting on a navy futon with red and purple throw pillows, including the big red handwoven pillow that I bought in Old Town, Alexandria on my lunch hour once. We have had this futon for around 4 years and lately when you sit on it it sometimes creaks and cracks; it's time to upgrade to a couch. I want one of the ones that extends like a chaise at one end - I always want to put my legs up.
Our living room is busy (the bedroom is the room of calm -- cool colors, more sparsely decorated), so there's too much to describe in the time I have, but a quick tour: green houseplant in a ceramic red bowl, growing like jungle, long vines hanging down over the edge of the armoire where it's perched; a long, thin, framed Simpsons cell; a wine rack recently restocked; a matted photograph of Mount Timpanagos, from Sundance; a small white vase with orange, pink and yellow stripes, a gift from my friend Lauren, the last time she visited; and then, of course, what I've been avoiding -- the tower of electronica. TV, VCR, DVD player, stereo components, Tivo... I cannot wait until we have more space and can have a living room that doesn't center around this stuff...a room where the furniture is arranged to encourage views out the window, or conversation.
On the wall behind me: a framed New Yorker cover from my grandfather; a big painting of an underwater scene that I gave my husband for his birthday last year (it looks almost like an 8-year-old made it: big blocky shapes, jagged lines, bright colors); and, 2 recent additions, framed album covers: The Who's Tommy, and Rocky Horror Picture Show. In the corner, a tall silver magazine rack, filled with old copies of the New Yorker (we finally cancelled our subscription - couldn't keep up), New York Review of Books (we had a free trial at some point, that ran out), Harpers (just renewed), Utne (I love the idea of it), and Wired (another free trial).
And, now, my dog, sitting on the futon beside me, waiting patiently for his dad to take him on his morning walk. Little does he know it's raining -- he hates the rain.
I realized I've never described my environment to you. I'm reminded of the episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" in which Larry declines to take the tour of his friend Jeff's new house ("Hey, let me give you the tour" - "Oh, no thanks, that's ok"), and Jeff's wife is outraged, deeply offended. If you don't want "the tour," then by all means, decline, and I will not be offended. :) But I picked up "The Right to Write" yesterday, a book I think I've mentioned here before, and it talked about the importance of describing your setting, as a way of allowing readers to get to know you...so here goes.
Right now I see: full red tulips craning out of a tight turquoise vase, which sits on the coffee table I got for $20 from an ad in the City Paper almost 8 years ago. I got the tulips for $9 at the grocery store last weekend. The table sits on the chenille area rug my husband and I bought on a whim one afternoon in Ellicott City - squares of navy, periwinkle, gray. I am sitting on a navy futon with red and purple throw pillows, including the big red handwoven pillow that I bought in Old Town, Alexandria on my lunch hour once. We have had this futon for around 4 years and lately when you sit on it it sometimes creaks and cracks; it's time to upgrade to a couch. I want one of the ones that extends like a chaise at one end - I always want to put my legs up.
Our living room is busy (the bedroom is the room of calm -- cool colors, more sparsely decorated), so there's too much to describe in the time I have, but a quick tour: green houseplant in a ceramic red bowl, growing like jungle, long vines hanging down over the edge of the armoire where it's perched; a long, thin, framed Simpsons cell; a wine rack recently restocked; a matted photograph of Mount Timpanagos, from Sundance; a small white vase with orange, pink and yellow stripes, a gift from my friend Lauren, the last time she visited; and then, of course, what I've been avoiding -- the tower of electronica. TV, VCR, DVD player, stereo components, Tivo... I cannot wait until we have more space and can have a living room that doesn't center around this stuff...a room where the furniture is arranged to encourage views out the window, or conversation.
On the wall behind me: a framed New Yorker cover from my grandfather; a big painting of an underwater scene that I gave my husband for his birthday last year (it looks almost like an 8-year-old made it: big blocky shapes, jagged lines, bright colors); and, 2 recent additions, framed album covers: The Who's Tommy, and Rocky Horror Picture Show. In the corner, a tall silver magazine rack, filled with old copies of the New Yorker (we finally cancelled our subscription - couldn't keep up), New York Review of Books (we had a free trial at some point, that ran out), Harpers (just renewed), Utne (I love the idea of it), and Wired (another free trial).
And, now, my dog, sitting on the futon beside me, waiting patiently for his dad to take him on his morning walk. Little does he know it's raining -- he hates the rain.
