Savoring a sanctuary

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Sunday mornings are my favorite. It’s not just the sleeping in, but just waking up with the thought that for twenty four hours I can still do whatever I want. I usually wake up in the arms of my loving husband as I did this Sunday. It was warm and snuggly, and almost hard to get out of bed had I not needed to replenish the loss of blood sugar. I got up and made an experimental dish. I sautéed some mushrooms and zucchini and then just fried some eggs on top. It was yummy. With a sausage side, Brad and I had a pretty good breakfast we ate leisurely and then discussed what we would do that day. I was feeling lazy so we took to the couch to watch a movie in our pajamas. Sunday set out before us with its endless possibilities and we hunkered down in the darkness to watch Shaun of the Dead. Now I normally don’t complain about a day of lazing about. It has its place, but I felt rather disappointed in myself even as I laughed at the silly movie. I had plans. I had things I set to accomplish, and this was the last weekend to take advantage of our apartment pool and the summer sun. So I sat there dreading when the movie was over because then I would need to make one of those decisions. Leave or stay here in my cocoon of love and laziness.

When it was done, Brad said let’s get ready and then see how we feel.  I slogged over to my make-up table and slouched into it. I wasn’t fully into the idea of getting out of the house, or actually getting off the couch. I have an enchanting place where I put on my make-up though. It is a lovely room filled with gilded accessories. I sit at a small desk with a large black and gold mirror that goes almost to the ceiling. I have a gold lamp that is tall and dramatic, with silver and diamond accents. All of my lipsticks, glosses, blushes, mascaras are in little Chrystal dishes. My perfumes are all strung out across and antique end table. I have silver mercury glass candlesticks planted on a pressed silver coffee table in front of a cream sofa that has a large white poof of a furry pillow that people can’t even stop themselves petting when they get near it.

If you can’t tell already this room brings me joy. It is probably the equivalent of a meditation room for me.  When I come into the well lit room, it is as if I take a deep breath in my stomach. For one thing, it is the only place in my house that is COMPLETELY decorated. It is done, and as you can tell done well. I look around at the golden framed black and white pictures of my Grandmas and the pink frilly one my Mom at five years old. I look at the gold framed tea towels my Great Grandma embroidered for me. I think about the women who came before, and how I am an amalgamation of those women, which warms me and gives me great strength.

While it is also my office and scrapbooking room, its most defining use is the room where I transform every morning from the frumpy schlub into the confident woman I project. It is something I have realized that changes the way I feel. That morning I sat there and took my tools out of their little Chrystal dishes and bit by bit it became the energy of that day. It was as if I painted on the moxie. Sitting there soaking up the room, and making myself pretty, or prettier as Brad likes to say changed the way I felt inside, almost chemically. It was the French fry feeling. Slowly I pieced together myself so that I could get out of the house. I ended up having a lovely lunch with my husband, and then spending the entire rest of the day out in the sunshine. We swam most of the day. I realized this room, and the process of putting myself together there is a way that I can use to self sooth, instead of food. Image

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