Today’s post is about home decorating. According to my son, granddaughter, son-in-law, and numerous “allow me to straighten your pictures” friends, another suitable title will be “What Not to Do When Decorating Your House.
First let’s discuss emotional needs….mine. I know what I need, and I’m still searching for it. I am an introvert. I need peace, quiet, contemplation, meditation, candles, and Native American flute music. For the past twenty or so years, I have been trying to “feng shui” my house. Some people do not feel I have succeeded.
I am not a monochromatic home decorator. My granddaughter says, “Grandma, your house pops!” My son snickers when she says this, and I want to smack him. Perhaps a house that pops is not in keeping with feng shui.
My son in law smirks, as he goes from room to room in my house, moving my paintings into totally unbalanced tilts and shifts…just to see if I even notice. Ha! Ha! I think I’ll smack my son-in-law too.
Perhaps a “house with tilting paintings” is not in keeping with feng shui.
For the past twenty years I have been searching for feng shui, and trying to figure out how I can have it and, at the same time convert the junque I pick up at garage sales into a shabby chic home, worthy of any decorating magazine. I like to pride myself on my creativity. You know; using things a different way and “making them work.”
I’d like to show you photos of my bedroom which I decorated with African tribal cloths, gourds, wall hangings over triple dressers, and one large bust of some lady naked from the waist up. My friend, Gerry, and I went shopping at these discounted African Arts and Crafts warehouses in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. I don’t know what Gerry did with her stuff. I, however, revitalized my circa 1968 Macy’s bedroom furniture into a tribal village. My children called my bedroom, Botswana. I’d show you my photos, but I’m expecting either National Geographic or Architectural Digest to request one first.
Two steps from the hallway outside Botswana, my family and other adventurers could enter My Garden Room. This room was formerly my daughter’s junior high and high school bedroom. Here, instead of using tribal cloths, I covered her circa 1970’s campaign style furniture with tan plastic roll-up blinds (to simulate bamboo.) Then I piled on a bunch of hardy (yeah sure) potted plants. My green walls, white molding, stained white carpet, scented candles, portable fountain, and vintage boom box playing Native American Flute music set the meditative tone I was seeking.
I tried to sit and meditate, but I worried too much.
The problem was I overwatered the plants. The dirty water overflowed the plant saucers, cascaded over the plastic blinds, and landed on the few clean places left on the old white carpet. Then the dead plants dropped their dried up leaves all over the room.
It was hard to be serene with all of that death around me. I tried. I gave up when I realized that if I fell asleep to the Native American Flute Music, the candles would catch on to something and I would probably burn the house down.
It’s been quiet lately in AdventureLand. If you need a free-lance home decorator, I am available. If you don’t want me, then how about sharing some of your own stories?