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Entry tags:
- dwj,
- reading,
- reading_11,
- rl
A culture of accretion (Also May reading)
It's not just my liking for LOTS that makes me reluctant to pass by a box of books left out on someone's front lawn. It's my liking for presents. Freebies dropping into my path argue a benign universe, or so at least it feels. A useful makeup bag that proves to contain Givenchy 'Delicate Bath Gel' (nothing delicate about it, in fact, but it's real Givenchy); a lovely glass bowl, right size for salads and fruit, with exquisite incising; a comfortable office chair, nothing wrong with it bar a slight tendency to squeak. (And I know the owners, so am satisfied with its health.)
I like hand me downs. stuff other people have owned and used. If I look at my living room furniture, the only things I bought full price are the sofa, the TV stand from Ikea, the shoji screen behind it, and probably the bamboo base of the little round table. That table's marble top was brought from India by the travelling son of the family doctor and I nabbed it when we divided the Bedford spoils. The two end tables by the sofa and the lamps on them also came from Bedford, as did the marble-topped coffee table. (It rests on a fragile gilded wooden base and dates from 1958-- I can just remember it arriving-- and I've often wondered when the wood is going to crack and dissolve into dust, sending sixty pounds of marble crashing to the floor.) The big lamp and the sagging wicker table were from yard sales; the lacquered Chinese chair was someone's back alley sale of shipped stuff for a store that went out of business. The hassock came from a lawn across the street; the second armchair came from down the street (Mimi the dog's tiny Chinese owner); the wicker half table came from the garbage decades ago, along with the one in the upper hall. The present carpet I bought but the previous one was left by my tenant. Good carpet, pulled the room together, but always a bit too big. The current drapes are first hand too, but the previous ones, which worked better, were from Goodwill.
If I'd furnished my house myself there'd be a lot of Ikea, or rather, a lot more Ikea than there is, and it'd be dead boring. As it is, it may be a bit down-at-heels, but it has a history.
(It works in reverse. For years I had a basketwork and steel tube chair I was very fond of, with raffia binding on the arms. Right height for my poor knees; the sofa is a bit low. But the raffia came loose and poked me, and wouldn't be bound down with duct tape or glue or anything. I took its cushions for the Chinese chair, which is lovely but uncomfortable, and left it out for the garbage pickup at Easter. I saw it on a porch up the street a few weeks back. A week ago I picked up an upholstered chair from the next block down, perfect for the porch. To make room I had to trun the old rocker (again, too low for comfort) that had sat out front for a dozen years at least. Someone snapped that up in minutes. It's a very sharing neighbourhood.)
Tuesdays with Morrie (27)
Just Add Buddha (26?)
Unexpected Magic (25?)
A Sudden Wild Magic (22?)
The Summer Book (18)
Dzur (14/ 15)
Jhegaala
Iorich (16)
Buddhism Plain and Simple (12ish)
Merlin Conspiracy (9)
Deep Secret (6)
I like hand me downs. stuff other people have owned and used. If I look at my living room furniture, the only things I bought full price are the sofa, the TV stand from Ikea, the shoji screen behind it, and probably the bamboo base of the little round table. That table's marble top was brought from India by the travelling son of the family doctor and I nabbed it when we divided the Bedford spoils. The two end tables by the sofa and the lamps on them also came from Bedford, as did the marble-topped coffee table. (It rests on a fragile gilded wooden base and dates from 1958-- I can just remember it arriving-- and I've often wondered when the wood is going to crack and dissolve into dust, sending sixty pounds of marble crashing to the floor.) The big lamp and the sagging wicker table were from yard sales; the lacquered Chinese chair was someone's back alley sale of shipped stuff for a store that went out of business. The hassock came from a lawn across the street; the second armchair came from down the street (Mimi the dog's tiny Chinese owner); the wicker half table came from the garbage decades ago, along with the one in the upper hall. The present carpet I bought but the previous one was left by my tenant. Good carpet, pulled the room together, but always a bit too big. The current drapes are first hand too, but the previous ones, which worked better, were from Goodwill.
If I'd furnished my house myself there'd be a lot of Ikea, or rather, a lot more Ikea than there is, and it'd be dead boring. As it is, it may be a bit down-at-heels, but it has a history.
(It works in reverse. For years I had a basketwork and steel tube chair I was very fond of, with raffia binding on the arms. Right height for my poor knees; the sofa is a bit low. But the raffia came loose and poked me, and wouldn't be bound down with duct tape or glue or anything. I took its cushions for the Chinese chair, which is lovely but uncomfortable, and left it out for the garbage pickup at Easter. I saw it on a porch up the street a few weeks back. A week ago I picked up an upholstered chair from the next block down, perfect for the porch. To make room I had to trun the old rocker (again, too low for comfort) that had sat out front for a dozen years at least. Someone snapped that up in minutes. It's a very sharing neighbourhood.)
Tuesdays with Morrie (27)
Just Add Buddha (26?)
Unexpected Magic (25?)
A Sudden Wild Magic (22?)
The Summer Book (18)
Dzur (14/ 15)
Jhegaala
Iorich (16)
Buddhism Plain and Simple (12ish)
Merlin Conspiracy (9)
Deep Secret (6)
no subject
I try to do my best to make sure some things get a good home but I usually tend to use something till it falls apart and then it really IS no good for anything but the scrap heap. Our house shelves is mostly Ikea, but the rest of the furniture is(are?) one off buys from here and there. My favourite pieces of furniture are my rattan settee (which really is too big for our place but ooooh so comfortable) and the dining table and (6)chairs - also too big for our place. But the former just feels like it's part of a Bali beach house, and the latter recalls big country kitchens and an Aga. ^_^ One can dream of course.
But really it sounds lovely, your home.
no subject
My bro has a dining table with six chairs that can be expanded, and only has room for it because he took out most of one wall. My mirror version of his house wouldn't accommodate something like that, but I have no kids and grandkids to entertain at Xmas. Even so, there'll be problems when the grandsons all have girlfriends and they have to seat three more people.
no subject
When I moved from Columbus, in my final few days in the house, I filled the narrow strip of grass between the street and the sidewalk with stuff I couldn't take with me, didn't feel was important enough to keep and store, but it still had lots of use in it so I couldn't throw it away--furniture, dishes, clothing, shoes, all in piles that ended up being almost shoulder-high. People came from the neighborhood and the slightly-less-well-off apartment complexes down the street to assimilate many of these items into their own lives.
The last full day I was in the house, I put out on the stacks the shallow saucepan (with its tight-fitting lid) I'd used to cook my rice nearly every day for the past 4 or 5 years. Within minutes, I saw a woman pick it up and add it to the stack of things she carried in her arms. And I went back inside and sat down on the couch (also a hand-me-down, from Kay's mom's house, soft and cushy with one small cigarette hole in its blue corduroy covering), and the enormity of what I was doing suddenly hit me, and I cried, loudly and miserably, for a solid half-hour.
no subject
I have a wickerwork shelf thingy I keep CDs on. Got it from someone's porch that was piled high with things, and a sign on top of them-- 'Leaving this house after forty years!' Cri de coeur, that made me cry too.
no subject
Old furniture is the best--it has memory and character to it. The wicker shelf sounds wonderful! Leaving a house after 40 years must have been distinctly painful in so many ways.