I'm not a minimalist, ok?

On my kitchen table at the moment:

A stack of back magazines

an empty bottle of Prosecco too pretty to throw away

a pair of cork coasters from a conference I attended last month

a skinny leather belt

a Blue Willow plate that clashes terribly with the rest of my white dishes, but I've had it for so long that I'll never get rid of it

a catalog from a store I'll never visit but I love the photos inside

a set of hair combs I'll never wear again, but I'm saving for my niece

a mini hand sanitizer in a scent which annoys me, but I keep because it's cold and flu season and I'll use every drop

my winter coat, thrown over a chair; last worn outside in February but worn around my shoulders yesterday because I was cold.


I have attachments to everything in my life...I let them burrow deep under my skin and live there for a while. When it's time to place the bottle in the recycling bin, I will. But first, I'll use it as a vase. I'll move the coasters into the living room when I pour my first glass of iced tea of summer (which, judging by the weather we've been having lately, will be three days from now). The skinny leather belt will save my butt (literally) when I'm racing out the door and my pants are a bit saggy.

I save magazines for a rainy afternoon, when my to do list may be long, by attention is short. The Blue Willow plate makes me smile, that's all. I'll keep it until it doesn't. I'll take my scissors to the catalog, and add a few photos to my inspiration board. I love my niece, try to nurture my health, and get chilly sometimes.


This is my life, laid out on my table.

I like things just the way they are.

Indian Jasmine /Attachment.

This post is part of a Blogging A To Z series where I write a new, personal story almost every day (except Sundays).