Skip to main content

New writing desk!

I promise to talk about less domestic things at some point, but I'm still in that critical nesting-the-place-up mode.  And I just bought a desk!  Now, I did have a writing desk in my old place.  It was also my breakfast nook, dining room table and chopping block.  It served its purposes well.  It had been in my family's home as a kitchen work surface, then I adopted it when I lived in Chico (way back in '96-'99) and used it as a dining room table.  Then it lived in my kind, former roommate's family's barn for a few years while I was away at Seminary, and she kindly gifted it back, complete with little mouse teeth nibble marks when I moved into San Francisco.  That table and I had history.  I wrote a memoir of all the homes I'd lived in on it, all of my MFA papers were written there, and the novel that I finished earlier this year was entirely drafted and re-crafted there.  And given my proclivity to inanimate object loyalty (see The Blue Armchair), I felt bad about how much I wanted to part with it.  But the move was the perfect excuse.

Right before I hauled it off to Goodwill, I penned my last words on it.  Directly on it.  I wrote "Thank you for the words" on its underside as my final act of gratitude.


Of course, I was writing from under the table, so it looks a bit like a five-year-old serial killer scribbled it.  

See, I just really wanted a desk that was a...desk.  Not a kitchen table, not an eating surface, but a tried and true, dedicated writing space, preferably one with drawers so I could hide the many things that feel like clutter but serve my purposes so very well.

I looked around at a number of adorable antique/used/consignment furniture stores (way out of my price range, and seriously who needs a $6,000 desk???).  I looked online at the usual places (CB2, West Elm, Amazon even) and realized any desk I could order online looked like it was meant for merely decorative purposes, or worse, an office cubicle.  That's when I decided I really wanted a desk that was formerly loved, had stood the test of time and had a bit of story to it.  Enter Craigslist.

It took a few weeks of looking and emailing, but I finally found one today.  And it was one of the most pleasant Craigslist experiences I've ever had: everyone was available, on time, Zipcar had a car I could use, Dan helped me load it, and most of all, it's super stinking cute, and cost me a mere $50.

It's Tiffany blue, per the former owner's taste.  I too am a freak for Tiffany blue, but might have to repaint it a brickier orange color at some point if it ends up living in the front room, just to blend with the strange apocalyptic fireplace and red-brown furniture.  That's okay, I'm a freak for a brickier orange color too.

(note the worn down parts that reveal the former owner's tendency to lean to the side while typing on her laptop)


Delighted am I!  I can't wait to sit at it and pull a pen out of the drawer to script a story.  Or browse online for a similarly adorable chair.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Litquake 2012 Report

I've been avoiding putting this together, because a part of me really doesn't want this year's Litquake festival to be over already.  The other part of me is still cranky-tired, wandering around trying to get to all those projects I said I'd get to after Litquake, and feeling post-Christmas like.

In short, this year's Litquake was AMAZING.  Every year has been awesome, but this one was particularly special for me because I got to actually help plan the awesome.  As a volunteer during the festival for the past several years, I definitely felt like I contributed to making each event I helped at awesome, but this year, being on the committee,* I got to witness the tremendous build up to the festival that happens the whole year prior.  The amount of love, sweat and time that goes into it is incredible, and I'm not sure I've ever been part of something so cool.  Which is not to say I'm not still cranky-tired and looking forward to feeling fully recovered.

For Mom, Twenty-One Years Later

I lost my mom twenty-one years ago today. She died from complications related to a long battle with chronic-progressive multiple sclerosis. I was a week away from turning twenty-one. Which means I have not had her as long as I did have her.
It used to make me unique among my friends, to have lost a parent at such a young age. But I’m no longer young and many friends have joined this depressing club. The dues are astronomical and no one prepares refreshments.
People, moms are important. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Whether you were once a child or are currently a mom. They are the sun, moon, and stars, even when they are completely obscured by darkness.
I wish she mattered less. She doesn’t. She matters more than almost anything: that first hit of love, that childhood sense of safety, that initial understanding of what it means to be a woman in the world: mom.



Memory is funny when it comes to dead people: I can remember her any way I want. Which means I can also mis-remem…

Time, as understood in the fourth trimester

Having a baby is not unlike accidentally slipping into a science fiction universe, everything you know is so completely upended. I wrote an essay about how my sense of time shifted out from under me in the first months of my daughter's life. 



Excerpts in italics are from the essay The Beginning Of Time, by Stephen W. Hawking

1.
The time scale of the universe is very long compared to that for human life. It was therefore not surprising that until recently, the universe was thought to be essentially static and unchanging in time.

The Longest Shortest Time is the name of a podcast on parenting that I heard about several years before becoming a parent and filed away mentally. “The days are long but the years are short” is another phrase used to both comfort and cajole new parents. The implication is that parenting shifts your experience of time, as if life simply advancing in years wasn’t enough to do the same. One hour of an infant screaming inconsolably after her two month immunizatio…