It's a throw-back to Lolo, I think. Her place was firmly cemented at one end of the large kitchen table. Through my youth, she kept her current book, magazines, and astrology workbooks ALWAYS on the chair next to her place, or on the shelf of a small cart next to where she sat. Even in the last years, as a widow in an apartment alone, with an entire study with writing desk, all to herself, she kept her permanent spot at the dining room table, where she made lists and cut out interesting articles from the daily paper. Someday, I have to write a post to tell you all about Lolo and the daily paper. Remind me.
So, this morning I was sitting in my new place (I've actually been doing this for a few months - keeps me away from the rush-rush of email and the stack of bills on my desk in the loft - and the always-on TV if Oldtimer is awake), and I realized I was sitting in dim light, looking at a kitchen remodeling magazine, and spending much time looking up at the scene reflected in the mirror nearby. It gave me such a good serene yet happy feeling, and caused me to think about my favorite color/s- those blue/green or aqua or turquoise or sea colors. Whatever you want to call them.
And I realized that for years I had no clue what my favorite color was. Someone would ask and I'd usually hedge with a response about liking several. For a long time in the 70s, I always worked some orange into the decor. Later, when I had my daughters, I had a new-found draw to shades of pink. I usually wore what was current in trends, taking care to avoid yellow and lavender, which make me look billious. (That's a great old-fashioned yet descriptive word, isn't it? Billious.)
But then I realized I've been drawn to turquoise shades most of my life. As a pre-teen, pestering my mom to let me sew clothing for myself (and borrowing Uncle George's sewing machine that was a treadle Singer converted to electric), the first thing I made was a "shift" dress, in a geometric print fabric of blues, aqua, and black. It buttoned down the front (we had to take it to my Aunt Bernice's house and have her make the buttonholes), and I wore that dress a LOT - despite the slightly wonky facing on the armholes.
The god-awful knife pleated skirt we made in eighth grade home ec, without a pattern, was from a glorious aqua and black denim-like material. Knife pleated denim (what did I know about fabric selection then?) made me look like an elephant in a tutu, so I rarely wore the skirt, but I sure loved that fabric.Even now, despite my stance against reproductions passed off as antiques, I couldn't resist the re-created Roseville pottery in those blue and green colors. I just love that color family - always have. Why did it take me so long to realize that?
Oddly enough, despite the subdued light, I enjoyed it this morning. I often complain that the fully-leafed maples in the front of the house make the front rooms seem cave-like, but today I felt it let me revel in the good feeling of the colors of the room.
PS - One unrelated note. Thank you to all who have left sweet comments here and sent them to me personally about the passing of our Como. It's been more difficult than I thought it would be, despite knowing it was time; apparently his big and generous heart just gave out. As I told our vet, I've had Como longer than I've had my Oldtimer. I know I'll miss him, his habits and antics a long time - he was such a good and faithful companion. Though my blurb on the day he died told of all his early behavior quirks, I really didn't get to the point of mentioning all the charming, smart, and loving things he did. Every time I threaten to get really sad, though, I remember that face behind the fence at the Humane Society, and know that we gave him 13 really good years that he might not have seen otherwise. I can only hope they were as good for him as they were for us.Como LOVED the snow - though he and Buddy are ready to come in in this shot.