Monday, June 27, 2011

on becoming a trapeze artist

As it turns out, I kind of miss this space. So much for joint adventures (not really, of course. They're sure to come soon. I keep telling myself I'll do better when I have a nice camera and a new computer. Which is partly true -- my somewhat ancient laptop has another virus, and I really do want to finally take nice pictures -- but mostly it's an excuse for not kicking myself a bit harder to get in gear. Oh, anyway.)

Life is currently in the midst of changing drastically; this is such a transitional time. For one thing, after a mere three months of planning, I'm now married. It's been quite an adjustment to keep waking up as a wife. My identity doesn't know what to do with itself.

Uh oh! What'd I do?!?

Just kidding! I love this man. Really. Like, a lot.

Right after the wedding, I moved up to the middle of nowhere to be with my husband while he works through the summer. I, meanwhile, have no job, no friends, and essentially nothing to do. (I know, boo hoo, poor me -- I'm spoiled. And while it's been completely difficult to leave family, friends, and familiarity to take on this new role, I absolutely can't complain. After all, it's my new job that will take us halfway round the world in a few short weeks. Not to mention there are plenty of people that would trade a limb to be in my situation, which yesterday involved sitting around watching Netflix, eating nachos, and building this. See? Spoiled. Also, living proof that the dreams of a ten-year-old boy can come true.)

One thing I know for certain, though, is that I'm no good at sitting around, at least not for very long. That's why, in addition to the Lego model of Falling Water on the desk, we also have excessive amounts of groceries in our fridge, a bookshelf that is now lined with bright wrapping paper, pictures hanging on three of fours walls, racks of clean clothes in the closet, a fully made bed, a spotless bathroom....busy, yes, but do you see the problem? Here, I'll illustrate:

Okay, so maybe I'm not quite there yet, but I think it's fair to say that, for the moment, I am indeed a housewife. (Just don't say it too loudly -- I'm still trying to keep the secret from my thirteen-year-old self. Hopefully she's blasting Ani DiFranco on her portable CD player, completely immersed in The Vagina Monologues, and therefore won't take much notice.)

You know what though? I'm pretty good at being domestic. I burn scented candles and bake things and arrange throw pillows.

And I like it. I like nesting, creating a comfortable environment. I enjoy routine and the simple pleasures of hanging out in a well-maintained (and nicely designed) home.

(Photo by Anna Malin via Decor8)

(Photo by Lizzie Janssen via Design*Sponge)

(Photo by Christian Collins via Design*Sponge)

So maybe instead of a housewife I'm just a homebody?

As it happens, a comfortable environment with delicious baked goods is the perfect setting for executing my latest plan: Convincing Andy it's time for children!

Or not. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, I don't think he really needs convincing; we both want that, eventually.)

No, friends. My actual brilliant plan is to (brace yourselves) turn this into the SUMMER OF THE BOOK.

Yep, I'm going to read. Constantly, obsessively: I am going to devour books. It will become my all-consuming job, just you wait. Maybe after that -- maybe -- I will also make books. I've always wanted to get better at that.

But first I have to make the bed.