Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, your popular host, Mani the purebred border collie, here on this somewhat snowy day to while away the while by describing Our Modern Lifestyle, which I hope you may find at least moderately entertaining. You may remember me from such highly (not moderately) entertaining posts as “The Sun Was Out”, among so many, many others.
This is my bed, if you didn’t know. I share it with the guy I live with. He says that sometimes I’m a bed hog, which I think is slightly rude. But I do like a bit of room.
The upstairs bedroom is pretty small, and, I think, extremely cozy. A mattress and foundation were put up there a long time ago, and eventually the guy I live with started sleeping up there with Flurry, the first purebred border collie who lived here, while his wife slept downstairs with Pooka, the second purebred border collie who lived here. When he got old and irritable, Flurry would get upset by firecrackers or thunder and attack Pooka, sometimes in the middle of the night. So this arrangement was made, and everybody slept much better.
Sometimes, during the day, Flurry would get so terribly frightened and agitated by thunder he would have to spend time in the bathtub, where he felt safe. If things got really bad he would try to scratch his way through the bathroom door, or even turn the handle with his teeth.
Flurry was kind of a nut. The guy I live with said he should be taken to a Border Psycolliegist, but that never happened. And the bathroom stuff has been left as it is, because the guy I live with said this was a house full of ghosts. Friendly ones, I’m happy to say.
In fact, there are several things containing ashes in the upstairs bedroom, which the guy I live with thinks it’s inappropriate to show, but they impart an even cozier feeling up there. Maybe it’s hard to explain.
There are certainly a lot of books in the bookshelf that the guy I live with’s wife built. You can see the shelf, behind me, in the first picture.
This is what he sees when he wakes up in the morning. A print of a painting by Rosa Bonheur, an ancient mah jongg set, a sort of gamelan, and a display of rubber stamps the guy I live with’s wife made from an old typesetting box.
Next to an ancient dresser, which is mostly full of greeting cards. The mirror is a zillion years old, I think.And a thing, I guess you would call it, on the wall, with dried flowers. When the guy I live with took this picture, he burst into tears. He can be like that.
This is the view out of the bedroom window. The window frames are this gross aluminum stuff, but there has never seemed to be any need to replace them.There’s a book on the nightstand, on the lower shelf, which the guy I live with sometimes reads from.
On the other wall, kitty corner from it, is an old hand-colored print of a goatsucker. A page from an old book. The guy I live with bought that after his wife died, and had it framed. That was one way he made it through the first few years without her. Painting the house, and buying engravings, having them framed, and hanging them on the walls. Things like this are surprisingly inexpensive. (I think this was sixty dollars. Cheaper than some snowdrops.)
Mozart had been dead for less than a year when this was engraved.
There’s an engraving of William Blake on the wall, done when he was still alive. The guy I live with said, though, that this was like a “second state”, and not the original first issue. But still, he likes it.
Farther down the stairs are watercolors his grandfather did. He got these from his mom’s house after she died, and likes the paintings there, instead of bare walls. I think this is a fire station, maybe in Newport, Rhode Island, which is where he was from.The house on Prairie Avenue in Newport, which was built by the guy I live with’s great uncle Jim, who was a master carpenter. The guy I live with’s mom said the house was built entirely out of oak. It’s still there. On the other wall, pages from old botanical books.
I know most of the downstairs, especially the studio, has been shown before, but I think not this funny little frog mirror. The guy I live with’s wife got it from her mom.Back upstairs, the rest of the books by Graham Stuart Thomas, and some by Christopher Lloyd, on the partition between the living room and kitchen.
The view from the kitchen window, today.When they moved into the house, the partition was made of this “hideous orange plastic textured thing”, which the guy I live with’s wife removed almost the first week, and made these shelves. That’s her picture there.The Buddha, or Hotei, is real ivory, from the old days. The guy I live with’s mom accidentally broke a couple of the fingers. “Condition issues”, like they would say on The Roadshow. I know the grasshopper has been shown before, but I think it can’t hurt to show it again.
Until next time, then.