This past week (as Tom has been away) I've considered driving to Barnes and Noble, but have I gotten there? No.
Why? Because it comes to me that I have my own Barnes and Noble right here in my house. I mean, oh! The books not read here, the classical music, comfortable chairs and the scent of coffee brewing everywhere.
What more do I need?
There is a Starbucks near our Barnes and Noble which, years ago, I visited a few times. I'd sit there with a book, but actually, I studied that room. I made mental notes of all the colorful details and why they made me feel warm and happy.
I took notes: How could I make my home feel like this?
Do you ever do that? I recall being 12 and looking at the luxurious, damask and chandelier-topped rooms in the 1971 issues of Better Homes and Gardens, then jumping up off my bed and rearranging my whole bedroom. I'd place my furniture at the same magazine-room angles then throw my rugs around in the same slap-dash style. Looked not the least bit similar as the magazine--but hey, my heart felt happier.
I didn't see it then, but what I was really going after was a certain feeling.
I often remind myself (firmly) that I can either create or complain, but I cannot do both simultaneously. "Just create, Debra,"I tell myself. "Skip the complaining and just create."
Anything which makes me feel like that creative 12 year old girl is all right to me. 😃
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