Is It Home Sweet Home Yet?

 I've got to admit it's getting better
A little better all the time
(Can't get no worse)



Allow me to begin with, I still want a house. I crave being outdoors (at minimum, May through let's go with early to mid-October here in Minnesota and then, as you all know, enjoy the holidays indoors, pack up the decorations, then the car, then hightail it for Florida).

This isn't to say that apartment living isn't for me.  As a temporary stop on the road to the one level home many continue to encourage me is just waiting out there, our new apartment is really fitting the bill as a home, not solely a waystation until said home shows up on the MLS.  With fewer boxes to unpack (surprise!  there are the towels!  rats! I thought for sure photos from the family room I had been seeking would be here), furniture in place and, I might add, working out quite nicely, it's getting better all the time.  Operation of the hot and cold faucets still challenge me but I haven't been scalded or pelted with freezing water (can't get no worse).  I'm slowly, surely recalling where I put items in closets and drawers so I can access them when I want them.  Getting better all the time.  6 of the grands and their parents came over on Memorial Day to use the pool alongside quite a few of the residents under age 35 who live here, primarily young males so it did exude the vibe of a frat party.  The kids didn't mind and for the main, the 'boys' were kind to the grands.  Come Tuesday, I was the only one sitting at the pool mid-afternoon (can't get no worse) so with the end of school, the grands will be able to romp and splash unimpeded with each other.  

Our unit is located on the corner of the second floor, west facing, and I found myself looking forward to the spectacular late fall, early winter sunsets which emblazon the Minnesota sky.  Getting better all the time, when your vision shifts to the windshield from the rear view mirror.  As I move through the apartment, I continue to discover a comfort level I was fearful would elude me.  My desk, living in our master bedroom, faces outward, overlooking the neighborhood bordering the complex.  The trees are reminiscent of those in my old backyard sans the daily squirrel convention.  I hung a bird feeder off the balcony railing late Tuesday and the birds have yet to discover it (can't get no worse).  Unfortunately I can't see it from my desk, which I greatly enjoyed doing in my old office.

I mean, come on, if you were a finch or a sparrow or a hummingbird, wouldn't you stop and say hello?  Of course you would.


My friend, Jackie, has one rule for visitors to the cabin on Deer Lake in northern Minnesota.  "Make yourself homely," she smiles and we have been blessed to do exactly that.  I checked, as one would, with the Google, for what constitutes home sweet home.  Ahem...

What makes a home “homey”? Hominess is difficult to define, but you know it when you see it. A house that feels homey has a certain vibration in the air, one that makes you feel calm as soon as you enter it. It feels lived in, loved, warm, and accessible.

I got to admit it's getting better.  A little better all the time.  




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