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we had some good times, but people change 2002-08-27 I have a subscription to Metropolitan Home magazine, and it used to be my favorite magazine ever. I loved it. I was giddy as a schoolgirl every time it arrived. But the last two issues have failed to thrill me, and it's not the magazine's fault. They are still showing the gorgeous houses with fabulous designer furniture and interesting and expensive building materials. It's a beautiful magazine and well-written, but I'm just not interested anymore. More and more when I look through the magazine, I am noticing that most of the houses seem to have been built/remodeled and furnished for ego purposes; so that their guests would be impressed and complimentary. Oh, I'm sure not Every house that gets shown in the magazine was an ego house, but most probably are. And I don't care about that. I prefer modern styles, but I don't need or want a 4000 square foot house with bamboo flooring and red ostrich fainting couches. It's cool, but it's not real life. When people come to my house, I would like them to feel at home; not envious or impressed. I want a smallish house (not tiny--not with a boy who will all-too-soon be a teenager) with easy-to-clean floors and fixtures. I would like to have as much yard as possible, because I would like to garden more, and I would like to have enough space for entertaining. Other than that, not too much that I want. What I specifically Don't want is one of those hulking brand new suburban houses that are going up everywhere. Besides the fact that those houses have very little inherent charm, I would rather have an older, smaller house and a smaller monthly payment. I don't understand why people overextend themselves to buy those big houses; why add that stress to your life? A bigger house means more house to heat, clean, and furnish, and I can't see those extra square feet adding quality of life, at least not enough to justify the money and work. Dear Metropolitan Home, It's not you; it's me. You're beautiful and you're everything a person could want in a magazine, but I need my freedom. Your opulence and grandeur are suffocating me. Please try to understand. Love, Tattoobelly Don't worry, I won't be starting a rebound relationship with Country Kitchens. This girl still needs Some modern in her life. This morning Boy took out the garbage, and we discovered after it was too late that he'd thrown away an entire trashcan full of painting supplies (this is an old medium-sized office-type trashcan--we were using it to hold spackle and brushes and sandpaper; stuff like that). Francisco didn't say anything. He just made plans to rescue it later. It was an honest mistake, and kind of funny. Last night we watched Snatch and this morning we put it in the Netflix envelope and sent it back. My love for Netflix goes to 11. I helped out at an event today at which I saw hundreds of students. I enjoy that because I like seeing what they're wearing, and I like keeping up a running inner monologue about them. Such as "I'm glad those sorority girls are eating yogurt, because that'll be soft on their throats when they throw it up later", and "Dude, Leif Garrett called; he wants his hair back". It was my only entertainment. Perhaps I'm too harsh, but at least I held it all in until I could get to my diary. We're getting a lot of rain today, and I'm hoping it continues for several days so that maybe the water restrictions will lessen and Boy won't be in danger of arrest when he drools on his pillow at night. Level 6, people. Level 6. That's it for today, then. Love,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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