Saturday, November 24, 2007

A tour of my little house

To answer another one of Mom's requests, we're taking a tour of the inside of my cottage.

So, we enter through the kitchen, taking off our shoes to keep the water and mud from the gravel road and pathway to getting tracked throughout the cottage!

You can see here the style the owners used in renovating the kitchen, which I think is really sweet. The terra cotta with my blue Fiestaware remind me of the colors in my flat in Budapest. (I found that cobalt blue teapot at a yard sale in Ann Arbor this summer.) You can also see the beautiful stainless steel appliances they put in the kitchen -- Bosch dishwasher and gas range . . . swoon!

Over there on the counter you may notice my own electric appliances: I am still using that toaster oven I got in San Francisco, Mom's old breadmaker, and I've got a new rice maker I bought in an Asian shop here in Ann Arbor that makes me very happy. Behind it is hiding the vintage bean pot I was telling you about, Mom, as well as an old pottery bowl I bought at a garage sale back in Santa Cruz.

And then beyond, a CD tower I finally broke down and bought at IKEA to house my dozens of Eastern European CDs. Up top, I've still got that old fragment of an Indian screen that I bought years ago at the flea market in San Francisco. I'm still tempted to paint those blue walls a warm gold color, but I won't have the time to do it anytime soon, if I ever do.



And quickly we make our way in the open floorplan through to the living room. Here, you may recognize my old Salvador Dali lithographs Mom, Dad, and I bought at Price Costco so many years ago . . . that old antique buffet table you gave me when I moved to San Francisco, Mom, and that tiny marble-topped table you must have bought sometime after the Fire. You can also see my fireplace, the Firelight Glass lamps I have lit there on top of the buffet table, some houseplants I picked up at IKEA.

And there on the floor are the red and blue Turkish wool rugs I bought for my cottage in Austin when the floors were so cold and uninsulated I thought I'd freeze my feet if I didn't get some coverings on my floor. I bought those funny pale blue & rose vintage rugs for the same reason, at the same time -- and now they make a nice soft layer to sit on in front of the fire, much warmer than the concrete in front of the fireplace. I do love this hanging lantern-style light the owners have in the kitchen . . .


Taking a step down into the dining room and television corner, we look back up toward the living room from our spot beside the vintage Formica & chrome table. . . There's my cookbook collection, with those two pillar-style lamps I've had since Santa Cruz, and my much-beloved new red sectional couch. At the far end is the front door through which we entered the cottage.



Here, you can spy my grandfather's old accordion atop some funky vintage stacking tables I found at a garage sale. And the custom-made pine bookcase with an antique stained glass window for a door that I bought through craigslist. I keep my fiction books in there. And above it is the Elgin sunburst clock Mom got me at the senior's center in Minnesota this summer. Beside the bookcase is my old secretary desk with my poetry collection there, and beneath it I'm sure you'll notice the sewing machine you got me in Minnesota, Mom. Behind it is a funky old vintage suitcase I keep old photos and correspondence in.


Here, we turn the corner into my bedroom, where you can see that antique mirror I bought for $5 at a garage sale in Dexter, my vintage vanity table and glass lamps I bought from that sweet older couple on Huron River Drive, and the reproduction Depression glass candlesticks I've been carting around since I left my San Francisco studio in the TenderNob (I had bought them around the corner there at the Christian charity shop.) You might also recognize the vintage-style reproduction mirror from IKEA we'd admired together, Mom, and which in the end, I couldn't resist. Same goes for the bed frame.

And, because it used to be an old screened-in porch there, you step down into the section of the bedroom that I sleep in, which I curtain off for total coziness while I'm sleeping. On the floor you'll notice my meditation cushions atop the carpet I bought from the Kashmiri merchant in McLeod Ganj and shipped all the way from India. And, there's that old armoire Mom used to keep in the garage in Oakland.


We can stop for a moment at the bath, which is nothing special, but it's simple, functional, and all mine!


Go through that other little doorway, and you make your way into my office, and you can see just a couple of my many bookshelves . . .


And here is my workspace. This in and of itself could make the drive out to the boonies worthwhile, even if it weren't for the quiet and the beauty and the deep breaths of soul-regenerating fresh air. . .



The end! Come and visit the real thing soon! :)
I tried and tried to hold my camera still enough, but I need a tripod to do it right. I'll have to find my old one in Oakland next time I'm home, and dust it off, and bring it back here. But anyway, here's a glimpse of last night's moon in the quiet black stillness of my little village.

The erudite ways I've been making use of the Thanksgiving break

I went on down to Ann Arbor to meet Alice for coffee at Sweetwater's. It was good to get out of the house, but I'd sure been enjoying my hiding away the past several days. As a compromise on my whole I-want-to-wear- my-pajamas-for-as-much-of-the-Thanksgiving-break-as
-possible
kick, I wore just half of my pajamas out of the house: my bright kelly-green hooded Bemidji sweatshirt that Debs gave to me this summer. It's like a big group hug from my family, what with the memories of being on the lake with cousins this summer, the soft fuzzy coziness of it, and the fact that it was Dad's old school. On the bottom, I wore my REI flannely pants that really might as well be pajama bottoms for the way they feel, and my sneakers. No makeup, not a touch to my hair. Lately, I really couldn't seem to give less of a damn about how I look. Am I becoming a country girl?

Alice provided a bit of a wake-up call about the ticking clock on the end of the semester. I have an amazing amount of work I was supposed to be doing this weekend, but I'm having much more fun playing on the internet, blogging, cooking up a storm, cleaning my house from top to bottom, and watching ridiculously silly movies. (Yesterday: Kettle of Fish, and the day before: In the Land of Women and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. And you thought I might have been exaggerating?) My work has been slow-going this semester for a variety of reasons, not all of them emanating from me. Even some of them emanating from me, not entirely under my control. But it's about time to get down to business. But my latest batch of movies just arrived from Netflix, and I've got Delicatessen and Y Tu Mama Tambien in my greedy little hands now. Write a paper for Qualitative Methods, or watch movies? Hmmmmmm . . .

In other news, I got my GSI letter from my department (GSI = Graduate Student Instructor; roughly equivalent to a "Teacher's Assistant" in most universities), and I've been offered a head GSI position teaching Anthropology next semester. It's a professor I've been wanting to get to know, and it would be good experience for my CV to have been head GSI (which comprises responsibilities of leadership, organization, and administration helping keep the team of GSIs working smoothly together, since 101 classes are gigantic and there are typically 6 of us working together to handle all the sections of the course). It would also be considerably more money than I was getting this semester, since it's a 60% appointment instead of 50%. Since I'm really struggling with the price of gas being what it is and my rent having jumped up when I moved into my own place, this is no small thing. If I could save some money, I could use it toward research this summer in Europe . . . But I was *just* saying to Alice that I am thinking I need to scale back my teaching responsibilities in order to make room for the coursework I still need to complete. ESPECIALLY in light of the impending departure of a faculty member I was hoping to work with. Oh, man. What to do, what to do!?

Clearly the answer is to procrastinate by watching another movie. . . . Now that I've had a scrumptious dinner. Mmmmmm. And reread the message you've sent to me for at least the half-dozenth time, Marcell!! :)

Yes, this is what self-sabotage looks like, friends.