Our House

In the middle of nowhere. 

I've noticed that I derive some sort of pleasure out of telling people that I live in the middle of nowhere.

But the thing is, I don't live in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a little bit offensive now.

How dare I refer to my home in such a disrespectful tone? I love this place. It's in the middle of everywhere.

I've never been a homebody in my life. I always thought, when I was a little girl, that the most exciting thing in the world was to stay at a friend's house or a grandparent's house or what have you. Now, at the banana-yellow age of 26, I am a homebody. I want to sleep in my bed, wake up and look at my lake and backyard, with my dog's wet nose on my arm, and my husband sleep-talking next to me. (Yes, I am a walking contradiction that also loves to stay in hotels, and see new places).

Side fun note: sleep-talk dialogue of last night---

Will: I don't think it's fun in there.

Me: Where? 

Will: Just think about it.

Me: About what?

Will: uuuuuhhhhh (and he rolled over, no doubt his unconscious sensing it was being tricked).

I feel like Freud, trying to decode his dreams sometimes after he narcoleptically falls into deep sleep way before I do. 

These boys are my life, and I just will never get enough. And we all share the remote.

What's up, Bubba? I missed you too. 

This has nothing to do with anything that has to do with this blog post, except for that it probably changed the course of my life with how utterly unbelievable it was: an Andes Chocolate Mint Pie. From the Crazy Cat in Highland Village in Jackson, Mississip. Oh my.

The best thing about being away from home is coming back home. I love my house. It is the perfect size, with its rooms not decorated and scattered with hand-me-downs. I love its coziness in the back, barrenness in the front. I love the undone yard, confused and sometimes neglected. I love the shimmering lake and half-way done pier. I love all the plans I have for this house. I love the fact that I plan on never leaving this place. That I tell everyone that I want to die in my sleep here in 80 years. 

(I don't exactly get the healthiest looks from that declaration, but I speak my truth).

Love. Will take you. Everywhere. 

I enjoy loving my home, with the imperfections and messiness. It's a blessing to love the walls that shelter you from the elements. (But let's be honest, I've always wanted to live in the woods, but I was not born a 13th century Native American so that's not going to work out).

I also enjoy being a contradiction, because we all know, in a couple of months, I am going to get that bug that wants to see something new. But for now, after being away for a while, knowing that I am leaving again soon, I love this house. Our house. In the middle of everywhere. 

Homely,

Liza Jane

(PS: I am aware that homely means unattractive or could mean simple, but cozy...I intend a little of both in this salutation).