Weekend project

Lovely, isn't it? Well, this is my livingroom. Ever since we moved in, the livingroom and diningroom have been the staging areas. All the boxes went there first before moving on to the rooms they lived in. All the furniture we didn't know what to do with; all the boxes; all the odds and ends.

We've been living in the bedrooms, bathrooms, family room and kitchen, but now the living and diningrooms are coming into play.

The Piano arrives Monday.

Yes. The Piano. THE piano. The very same piano that my very helpful husband accidently tipped over because the little piano wheels don't roll well on just-cleaned damp carpet. It laid on its back for four days, with big pieces of it missing. It took every one of our big, strong friends to pick the thing back up. And it hasn't been quite right since. Half the hammers seem to have leaned over to the left just enough that if you hit a key, the note next to it plays. It's missing its front and a few crucial bits of hardware (probably IN the piano somewhere), but Gary the piano guy says it's relatively easy to fix - so when it finally moves out of our old house, it will move here rather than to the dump. Just to OUR dump. Which I'm trying to get cleared out and ready to recieve our battered piano.

On the right side of the picture, under a bunch of pillows and behind those boxes, is a couch. It was left by the owners because they didn't have anywhere to put it and I said "sure, leave it here - we don't have anything to sit on anyway." Well - the livingroom is the ONLY place in the house it can be. It doesn't fit through any of the other doors. But the only place the couch can be is also the only place the piano will fit, so the couch has to go.

I picked up a bunch of stuff and redistributed it around the house, then I tried to move the couch into the family room, which was the original plan and when I discovered that it doesn't fit through our doors. (For those of you wondering, my dear man was down at the old house cleaning out the garden shed and not having any fun his own self.) I did get it into the foyer. I stood it on its end; I twisted it around and tried every configuration to get it out of the livingroom. Then I couldn't get it out of the foyer. Then I couldn't get out of the foyer. I finally managed to climb over the thing and called my brother Matthew through tears of frustration.

Poor Matt was in the middle of a first date. Fortunately for me, they had reached that point where they'd eaten, gone swimming, taken a walk and were wondering what to do next. Matt came right over and we went through the whole manipulation exercise again. We finally got it out the front door and into the carport. And the box of trash, and a big, weird desk/shelf that the owner had also left behind. Bless you, Matt... my hero once again.

Matt went off to continue his date, and I sighed in relief. I might not get the painting and sprucing up done that I wanted to get done this weekend, but there is a SPACE for the piano come Monday.

Stacked

One of the joys of living in town is that we can belong to the library now. I took Z-boy a couple of weeks ago, which was my first time in this library.

I went back today... by myself. I had the luxury of wandering around without a young child yanking at my arm. I had his reading list with me, so I picked up about 8 books for him, then, official business done, explored.

There is something about a library... it's quiet, but it's a living, breathing thing. Even if you couldn't see, you would know that the place is full of people, all quietly turning pages or slipping books off the shelf and back again as they ponder the possibilities. The thoughts are nearly visible as you walk around.

When I was very young - maybe 9 or 10 to around 12 or 13, my family used to "kid-swap" with some friends in Atlanta who had two kids near my and my brother John's age. For two weeks, David would come be a part of my family while I went to Atlanta to be "sisters" with Susan. There were various incarnations of this swap: Susan and me here; John and David there; John and David here; Susan and me there. I loved going to Atlanta though. Her mom worked in the reference stacks at Emory University and sometimes she took us along. It was very quiet, very dark - and had the peculiar smell of books and dust and metal shelving. One of the most beautiful smells in the world. I adored going to the stacks. You had the feeling that you could truly disappear into them and never come out... that years later they would find your mummy propped up in the corner holding a book.

Today's libraries are light and airy. There doesn't seem to be any dust. And people go there. It's a totally different feel from the dusty stacks of Emory, but they are STILL the portals to adventure and doors for your imagination to other worlds.