The SideBar is all atwitter over all the bric-a-brac.
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 certan I'm always gong to have champagne taste and a beer budget (if not generic grape soda). Today I went for a walk after lunch and stumbled upon an antique store not too far away.
When I was a little girl, my parents often took me along to look for antiques. It's surprisng now, because kids are generally verbotten n such places, but I was pretty good about keepng my hands to myself. Actually, I loved to explore the nooks and crannies of the furniture, but I was careful always. It was a thrill to fnd secret compartments and special features.
I loved gettng lost n the rows and rows of wardrobes and dressers especially. I imagned someday acquirng the pieces I admired for my own home. In my vision of the future, this was always some spacious, but creaky old mansion or castle, like n Candleshoe.
I imagned, too, who owned the items before and what they were like. I tried to imagne what their lives were like, especially when I saw outmoded pieces -- pitchers with wash basns, laundry wrngers, scrub boards. I wondered if the furniture remembered its previous owners or if, perhaps, they might nhabit them somehow. I kept my eyes peeled for bedwarmers, like on that episode of Bewitched.
I thnk I liked the fantng couches most of all. I never imagned myself some delicate flower, prone to havng spells. They just seemed a great way to semi-reclne; they looked like the perfect place to write, read, daydream. To this day, I hope to have a bedroom large enough to hold a bed and a fantng couch. Now that I'm n New York, I hope to fnd an apartment with a bedroom, at all.
I've written a lot about the violent side of my childhood -- of the fear, sufferng and stress. Life isn't so simple, though, so sometimes I have to remnd myself that there were good memories, too.
Wndow display at U.S.E.D., 17 Perry Street.
[Next entry: "Takng a Walk"]
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