The weekly guest blog from Jack
Wendy has blogged more than once about the particularities of living above the bookstore and the overlap between our personal lives and our bookstore lives. To be honest we don’t see a division – the bookstore is a big part of our lives and it’s hard to imagine living any other way now.
Having someone walk in when we’ve forgotten to lock the door and we’re eating breakfast or dinner at the bookstore table is only a problem when we have to grab the dogs before they make the dash for freedom – or we’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.
But there’s coziness about all this that we haven’t really touched on before and it struck me anew just a few mornings ago in the form of our ‘the little brown jug’, or to be precise our ‘little brown sugar bowl’.
Most mornings I wander sleepily down to the shop accompanied by dogs and cats to our little downstairs semi-kitchen to set up the coffee, switch on the lap-top and examine the breakfast options (for humans and animals). On this particular morning my eyes focused on the sugar bowl in all its familiarity and I was suddenly struck by the power of objects to give us context and comfort.
That humble brown bowl talks to me without words. It says “how did you sleep?” and “what do you have planned today?” and “we all live here together and that’s most satisfying.”
Ah – satisfying! That’s the word I was looking for. It is satisfying to wake up surrounded by a movable feast downstairs with some immovable objects in it. The little brown sugar bowl (and some of its friends) give us that.
I am not quite sure how to answer this trvia question but what or who is talking here…..the sugar bowl or Jack….and the friends could that be ants….
I’m not sure how the bowl would negotiate the stairs ;0) Now the ants are a whole other blog post – – – (this is Jack BTW)
Sounds like you’ve been blessed Jack. I have a little brown tea cup that gives me the comfort of home folks. I mostly carry it with me out and about and all day long. These things are like warm fuzzies. Thanks for your lovely blog. It made my day. Pat
– – and thanks for your kind words, Pat. (Jack again)
I love your remarks about familiar objects giving us context and comfort. Your sense of humor wrapped in philosophy (or the other way around) is always fun to read.