Home Sweet Home....

This is the view from my bed
..... it’s quite a nice view from this angle really....(generally a VERY nice view as I’m still in bed and haven’t given serious thought to getting up yet) but just take a look at it from this view.....






This is the view you get as you’re about to bend forward to make the bed ... notice anything interesting? That’s right look closely and you’ll see there are several little (NO, not the cobwebs silly) .... well shall we call them dents....there in the edge of the beautiful pine that is above my bed.

These dents have come from....my head.....over the past 15 years as we have lived in this home I have become intimately acquainted with it’s various hard surfaces...most notably the one above my headboard. I know, I can hear you now, "well for goodness sake – after 15 years you’d think she’d be careful".....yes, you would think wouldn’t you? Or the more pointed, "Why doesn’t that dimwit move her bed from beneath the dormer window then she wouldn’t hit her head on the beam 6 out of 7 mornings a week?" (Now you sound like that little voice in my head....the one I NEVER listen to).

On a very practical level I realize this would be the easiest solution but on an aesthetic level I simply can’t do it. I love my bed under that window. I like the vast expanse of bedroom it leaves me , I like the window right at my head that I can crack open if I get night sw....I mean if the room is a little hot, I even like the sound of the rain on the window pane that I might not be able to hear as well from any other place. It all comes down to deciding between an aesthetically pleasing experience for 23.75 hours of the day or a less painful experience during the .25 hours of the day I am either getting into, getting out of, or making, my bed. I choose the 23.75 hours of happiness and take a little extra pain medication.

I’m fairly certain I’m a frustrated interior designer anyway and this is one place in my house I’m free to express my inner Christoper Lowell. My home is a log cabin....it was, and still is, our dream home but invariably when guests come I hear something along the lines of "Who did your ummmm.....decorating?" I sweetly reply, "Why my dear husband of course.." ."Ahhhhh that would explain the model airplane (that’s a FLYING TIGER P-40 thank you very much!) hanging from the great room ceiling just over the moose hide and the ....um what IS that?." (I might add here that the model airplane was an easy compromise borne of desperation when HH finished building a beautiful stripper canoe and thought the living room ceiling would be the "perfect" place to display it).

Now I know there’s a very good chance that my dear husband might actually read this blog and I don’t want him to get the wrong impression .... I absolutely adore his decorating, it perfectly showcases his many talents and his MANLINESS....in fact our home practically ooozes manliness which is amazing since he’s the one and only male to ever have inhabited the premises.

Friends of our daughters would often say "Why are there so many dead things in your house?" (They were NOT referring to pets or relatives.....only the deer heads, racoon skins, possum hides, antlers, and other remains adorning various surfaces). Or "Does that hairy thing in the corner ever give you the creeps?" (No, the hairy thing in the corner would be a bear rug and it never gives me the creeps only a live mouse gives me the creeps and I’m diligent in my efforts to keep those little rodents out of my house).

In fairness to my sweet husband though, he gave each of the girls free reign with their own rooms and I have accumulated my own decorating spaces .... "Yes, that would be my influence I proudly exclaim .... looking lovingly at the little cabinet holding the toilet paper", "And yes, that little candle on the vanity was all my idea too, thank you for noticing"

Lest you feel I’m being cynical let me assure you it’s nothing really, at least nothing a good night’s sleep and a morning without a bump on the head can’t cure...