As usual on Thursday mornings, I got up to my phone alarm playing “The Entertainer” at 6:30 in order to get Nate to school by 7am. “The Entertainer” totally annoys me now, but I figure if I change it, I’d be far less annoyed and tend to gravitate toward a “Snooze” routine instead of to a “Warm the car up. Grab coffee in my perfect travel mug. Put bundled-up, half-asleep Iz into car, and drive Nate to school” routine.
After I got Nate and Iz off to school, I sat down on the couch to drink a cup of coffee and watch something mindless for a bit. No. The couch wasn’t talking to me today, which was good. The other night Iz was eating her “chocolate balls” (a.k.a., Lindt truffles) on the couch and babbling about something Miley Cyrus or Jonas Brothers-related; and, I think that the result was a couch exorcism. Don’t Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brother scare the bejesus out of you, too?!
As I was sitting there, I noticed something unusual in the kitchen. No. Liam didn’t have his furry bottom parked on the cook top nor did I see a pile of barfed up cat crunchies on the floor. Yes, that’s usually what’s “unusual” about the kitchen. This morning, I noticed that the lights were on.
These weren’t any lights. They were the lights around both my bay windows. The sun was so bright this morning, I had to look twice to make sure they were on. And, they were, which had me thinking, “I know I unplugged those before I went to bed last night!”
At Christmas time, Iz really wanted to decorate the outside of the house, as we had for Halloween. But, it was just not in my bandwidth. I told her “next year,” but I felt badly.
So, when we were at Target before Christmas, I picked up two strands of lights, one white and one multi-colored. I thought that we could put these lights up in the house somewhere to make up for the lack of external festiveness. She thought that was a grand idea.
When we came home that afternoon, I tried to put them on the banister leading up to the second floor; however, they weren’t long enough. So, I thought long and hard about where might be the perfect place to put them.
I got out my thumbtacks, and I put one strand around each of the bay windows in the kitchen.
“Live in rooms full of light.” ~Cornelius Celsius
I guess I’m very particular about my light. During the day, I love the massive amounts of sunlight that stream into my kitchen through my bay windows. As far as I’m concerned, Architecture 101 should instruct that bay windows be mandatory in at least one living space in any home. Before renovating the kitchen, I had only one bay window in my dining room. I cannot tell you how much I (and Liam, who is often perched in one) love my bay windows.
My herbs, the ones that I take in from the porch each Fall (lavender, rosemary, and oregano), occupy one window along with my cyclamen from Sarah, my orchid from Jeff, and my African violet from Cathy. The other bay window is home to several photos, my suncatchers from Hill’s, and my grandparent’s Sears Silvertone radio (circa 1930s) that still works, though only for AM stations.
Anyway, when the sun’s out, it’s as if an invisible window shade has been lifted in my kitchen. The light is incredible. It was so bright this morning, that I had to do a double-take to realize, “Iz turned the lights on at 6:30 this morning, and that's how important they are to her.” And, I smiled. It wasn’t the smile you smile when someone says or does something funny; it was the smile you smile when realize something, know the “heart” behind it, and it makes your day.
Once I drank my coffee, I got up, and I unplugged both sets of lights. No. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them. It was most definitely related to my 70s energy crisis upbringing. I remember waiting in line for gas to fill my Dad’s puke green Gran Torino and the way my Dad kept the thermostat at 62 degrees at night and at 65 degrees during day. As I like to say, my electric blanket was my first boyfriend in high school!
At night, Iz and I love the low lights. We both love candle light, and we both like the dimmer on low. I hate bright lights in my kitchen, even if it means my chopped onions might contain a bit of my index finger. (Just kidding! Err, well, it hasn’t happened yet.) Low lights relax me, and they always have.
Even before Christmas, the family (well, Iz and I) decided that we’d keep lights up all year long. I think part of that decision was made when we discussed taking down the Christmas tree. Why is it that the good feelings associated with Christmas always seem to depart when the tree is taken down and subsequently goes to the brush dump?!
While they were Christmas lights making our windows sparkle, it seemed that, unlike the holiday, we did not want to wait ‘til next year, a whole year, to feel whatever it was they made us feel during the holiday season. We wanted them to light up our window every day.
Was it that we didn’t want to lose that Christmas feeling? Maybe. Was it that the feeling of doing something “special” every day (like watering the tree or turning the tree lights on) made the day special? Maybe. I think for us (well, maybe more so for me), it was that we knew we couldn't afford a lot of extras; however, the lights gave us the spirit of something special, even if it was just plugging them in each day, even though nothing special may have happened that day.
With these lights, Iz and I have an illuminated and calm paradise. They make us feel like we’re outside underneath the twinkling stars, yet we know we’re inside and warm without the wind chill factor; thus, $20 spent at Target can give you a piece of mind and give you a whole new world. ♥
And, like her mother, she was destined to be fond of high heels (vintage black patents featured) and to be fond of bright, shiny and luminous things, and in her case, always epitomize one. ♥
“In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary.” ~Aaron Rose
New Friends We Made Today on Two and Four Legs Note: When I went out for a walk in the neighborhood this afternoon to “exercise,” given that my cold had made me do much of nothing this week, I happened upon a man and his dog.
When I saw the dog, I immediately asked, “Is it a Corgi?” The owner answered, “Part.” I asked, “And what else?” He responded, “You tell me!” Um, and on what night did I have too many glasses of wine and have “Animal whisperer” tattooed on my forehead?
I answered, “I think Jack Russell.” He laughed and said, “I have no idea.” He then began to tell me that he was in need of a pooch, put the word out to friends, and then this dog became his roommate.
I asked, “What’s its name?” He replied, “Beth.” I said, “Hi, Beth.” She jumped up on me, didn’t bark, and I fell in love with her.
He then said, “I’m Justin. We’re 70.” I said, “I’m Jean. I have a sable and white Corgi, and we’re 104.” (Mind you, those are our street numbers not our IQs!) He said, “We’ll see you out here again then.” I responded, “I’m sure of it.”
Rumors of My Demise Due to Suffocation Under a Large Pile of Used Kleenex are Greatly Exaggerated by Me Note: I debated whether or not to leave a note about it, but I -gasp- took last night off from blogging. After writing every day for the last six months, I felt I needed a break.
And, thank you, Cathy, for missing me. ♥
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