Old Typewriters

I’m using this opportunity to write. I drank a “decaf” Starbucks at 3:30 in the afternoon yesterday. I have maybe slept for three hours. I think the sweet military barista who prepared my drink got it wrong. I say military because she was screaming the orders. This particular location was swarming with college students with laptops. I felt like I was in another country. I live 30 minutes away from the closest Starbucks. I never go in there. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy it, but it’s a little pricy, so I reserve it for special occasions. Like I was saying, I think it was the military barista because the little square on my cup had an X in the decaf box. This leads me to believe that my order was placed correctly. It could just be that I have not had coffee in so long (decaf or regular) that my body doesn’t even distinguish between the two. This may cause for some research on my part. Despite her screaming “Ryan” or “Kasey” or “Fill in the Blank” every minute and 30 seconds, she did seem sweet. She had a good amount of cheer in her voice. She also was personable. I appreciate these types of people. Yes, they work in customer service, so it’s fully expected that they stay politely composed, but it’s outwardly obvious that they are genuinely friendly. I like genuine people.
My mom and stepfather just left to drive back to Florida. I always feel that pang in my heart whenever my family members leave after a visit. It’s hard to see them go. It doesn’t make a difference how long they visit, it always seems short. My dad and his significant other will be here in a few weeks. I look forward to their visit. This will be the first time my dad will meet his second grandson. They share a special bond. My youngest was born on my father’s birthday.
I have noticed lately that my writing on here is more of an ongoing update. I am okay with that because I know what this space is for me. It’s my space, it can be whatever I want it to be. It has occurred to me though that I would eventually like to write. I would like to write about all the wonderful and beautiful things I hold deep in my mind. Not that I don’t enjoy writing about my life and my children. I think I would just benefit creatively by having some other type of writing outlet. I have had several forums suggested to me. I am open to any ideas that will help me write professionally. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated (and considered). The only real guideline I have is that whatever the platform may be, it can’t be something that requires a set amount of time each week. One day, something like this will be of interest to me, but with two kids, animals, a house, and a husband who is gone during the week, something with time constraints is not on my list of things to do. I love the freeness of this space because I can post once a week or once a month. There is no added pressure or consequences of not having something submitted at a specific time. I feel like that is what my full time job is all about. I get paid to have things completed by a deadline. This area I’m talking about for my writing should not come with that specific boundary. At least I do not believe it should.
Maybe this space I am dreaming about is less of an online domain and more of a physical place. I may just need to set up a room in my house and designate that as my “space.” I have always thought that this would be a necessity in my life. I should just do it. I could have all the freedom in the world. Of course, I would have to hold myself accountable, but it can be done. I have always wanted a place where I can physically go to work that was in some way part of my home. There is a little building out behind my house that I would love to turn into a personal office space. A space free of kid toys. A place that can be just mine. That would be the most amazing gift.
It can happen. I can make it happen. I don’t require diamonds or expensive bags. I don’t want designer clothes or shoes. I want a repurposed storage building with heat and air conditioning. I want to decorate it so it’s a little sanctuary. I want natural sunlight, a desk with a comfortable chair and an oversized, fluffy sofa. I want a rug I can walk around on in my bare feet to brainstorm. I want a table with a coffee pot. A vintage typewriter would be a nice added touch. I would need some art for the walls in order to be inspired. I would need a laptop. I can see an old bookcase full of pretty things. This is all I need. Oh, and a babysitter to come to the house. I don’t think I’m asking for much. Okay, it’s a little more than the necessities. I would settle for heat and A/C, the rug and a laptop. Perfect.

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My dream space.

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Inspiring art for my space.

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I like the natural light with this set up.

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Old typewriters make me happy.

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An Hour

I read in a book that everyone has an hour each day when time stands still. An hour of calm. An hour of meaning. An hour of clarity. This hour is different for everyone. The book correlated this hour with the hour of birth. Apparently a proverb says that the hour in which a person is born is “their hour.” I think this may be true. I haven’t seen my birth certificate in a few years, but 4:00 a.m. seems to be my hour. I have an overwhelming feeling of happiness at 4:00 a.m. I feel closest to God at 4:00 a.m. The day is new. The slate is clean. Yes, 4:00 a.m., I own you.
I enjoy just sitting propped up on pillows. I listen to the sounds of our home. The breathing of the baby. The bark of a dog down the road. I also leave the television on the World News channel (I like to know things). I had a professor in college who taught a communications class. We had a quiz every morning about what was going on in the news. In college, I worked late hours and thought sleep was better than gold. The last thing I wanted to do before class three days a week was check websites for news. Looking back, I know she was trying to teach us a very important lesson. I think the lesson was that we should seek to know relevant things. We should seek to care about the things going on around us and not just the things happening to us. I feel that I benefited from this professor. I may not know or understand everything that is going on in the news, but I darn sure know something about what is happening. 4:00 a.m. is my time to get educated on these things.
When the news stories start to repeat, I change the channel to the country music videos. This is soothing to me. I don’t watch. I just turn the volume to the lowest audible setting and prepare my mind for the day ahead. This could mean a prayer to God. It could mean a to do list. It could mean dreams about the future or reminiscing about the past.
Yes, I know my hour. I know it well. What’s yours?

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Renovation

The small hours of the morning are my safety net. It’s the time of the day when my thoughts are all my own. I’m not forced to listen to anything I don’t want to hear. Even my three month old is still on my chest.
Today, I am dreaming about renovations. There are so many things I want to do to our home. I catch myself dreaming of them often. My kitchen is the thing that I wish to change the most. By all descriptions, it’s a large kitchen. That’s because the kitchen also includes an office area and a wall with built in cabinets and drawers. It’s dated, of course. It has dark cabinets. It has older appliances. The counter tops are cracked in places. Oh yes, in my mind, I’m giving my kitchen a giant kick in it’s 29 year old face. Yes, my house is as old as me.
At 4:00 a.m., I am dreaming of all white walls. I want dark gray laminate flooring to replace the awful tile patterned linoleum mess that is there now. I want all the appliances replaced. I want a large, white, porcelain farmhouse sink. I dream of painting all the cabinets a light gray. I want to take out the cabinets above the waist around the sink and appliances. I want open shelving where everything is exposed. I want to take the cabinets out in the area where we have our bar set up. That area will be converted into a eat-in area. I want seating for our table to be built into the wall. The backsplash will have white subway tile covering it. Did I mention the butcher block counter tops? I want a coffee bar and a place for a small television on the wall.

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I love this open shelving.

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My dream kitchen includes rustic lights.

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Built in seating is a must.

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We can’t forget the butcher block counter tops and (a lighter color) of gray cabinets.

In my mind, this isn’t just a kitchen. This is the place where my family will bake cookies for Santa. It’s where I will sip coffee with my mom when she visits. It’s where I can sit in the corner and make lists for the grocery store or write bills at midnight. It’s a gathering place for my family. A place where I can open the blinds and we can watch the foals graze while we enjoy our pancakes on Saturday morning. While it may sound boring to most, this kitchen will breathe life into our old house. Come on, who doesn’t need a little sprucing up after almost 30 years? I do, and so does my kitchen.
Yes, these are the things I dream about at 4:00 a.m. Right now, any extra money I save goes towards Christmas. It’s only seven weeks away. Eeek! But, I am making plans to make this kitchen happen. Until that day comes, 4:00 a.m. is a time for dreaming with my eyes wide open.
Cheers y’all!

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