"time is a circus, always packing up and moving away."
-Ben Hecht

houseboat...

i lied. i'm a liar now too. the surfboard table and the back-and-forth game my brain has played in its demise, is nothing compared to coming to terms with selling my home. plain and simple: i don't want to sell my house, i want to keep my house. i love my house. i love it like it were a human being. or at least as close as i can guess what that would feel like. i had bought it with the plan that i would keep it as an investment long after i had decided to move on myself.

it just had never crossed my mind to sell it. until one day it did. like a switch. that quickly and easily in a blink of an eye. i was going to sell it and i was going to move on. i always thought of my house as an anchor of safety. something to come back to if the next path i took was a mess. but as i became more aware of my buried life, i realized my pretty, pretty house was just a container to hold the stuff. if i was going to move on to a new life, then she needed to be afforded the same opportunity.

i think they say the first rule of real estate is to never get attached, but i can't be sure. that may just be a tip i picked up on flipping from my overexposure to hgtv. but because i love her like no other, finding my home... a good home... one with the right fit, is starting to enter my head.

how do you put value on a home. they call it an appraisal, but after living here for years, i know the true value of this home has absolutely nothing to do with its square footage. it has more to do with the lush green of the park staring back at you when the sunlight wakes you up in the morning. or how the lights of the leveque tower shine brightly like a nightlight as you come up the stairs to bed. the value is in the crossbreeze of fresh air from the windows made up of different shapes and sizes. the same windows that tinker like a greenhouse during the many days of ohio rain.

the value for me will have to be in that i am able to appreciate those things and hope that whoever she shelters next will grow to notice them too. they say home is where the heart is and i know first hand the heart can be in several places at once.

this one is painful...

i have a problem. the first step they say is to admit it. so here goes nothing... i... am a furniture addict. i go looking for it every chance i get. i even make excuses to be near it. the weekends are the worst. i am partial to danish modern, but if it's not available i'll take whatever i can get my hands on. my addiction is so bad i have no problem with taking it from the gutter or a dumpster. it's that bad.

if this boat stands any chance, the furniture has to go.

i thought this table and i would be together forever. i had planned on it. even as i type this i struggle with rationalization and the defense of keeping it. but i know if i'm going to break this habit, i need to start serious. the truth is, i'm more partial to the one i bought at a thrift story in new york city. it's dirty, full of holes, you can't set a drink on it to save your life. but with the help of an old bread tray from the wonder bread factory, i've corrected that problem. truth be told, i'm just a second hand kind of girl. i like a story. i like a past.

following a theme here and possibly the item i've struggled over parting with the most... is the iconic herman miller surfboard table. designed by charles and ray eames in the 1950's and inspired by their venice, california home. if you're like me and like a story, this surfboard table was the first piece of well-known 20th century design i ever purchased. i practically planned the gallery around this table, always knowing one day it would sit perfectly in my future dwell home nestled among live oaks.



*if you are interested in giving my friend a new home and would like to learn more about the eames elliptical table, please visit the website below. i purchased this directly from herman miller and have the import documents, certificate of authenticity, etc.

EAMES ELLIPTICAL TABLE

launching.

I’m 30*. My world’s shortest sentence. I’m not married. I have no children. I have no job. What I do have… is a lot of stuff. Meaningless stuff. At some point I’m sure I felt attached to one thing or another, but as life changes, how I’ve viewed my “things” has changed. When life becomes too overwhelming, the things around you are like weights slowing down your progress. I’m untethering and lightning the load so this boat can float.

*past tense due to mild procrastination.