Food is a necessity and the ultimate comfort. The meal pictured was phenomenal, comforting, worth the hassle and an utter delight.
I want my home to be the same.
Our home in Black Forest was like an old shoe. Well worn, broken in, probably smelly, but oh so comfortable. It had loads of quirks and things we wanted to change. The possibility of refurbishing the old shoe was just too daunting. The threat of fire was persistent. We were done. Time to move on. We did.
And now we have a gleaming house; not yet a home. I need the comfort. I started to hang art, in hopes it would rekindle that fleeting essence of comfort. Books are being unpacked. Afghans and quilts and yarn. Soothing textures. Warmth. Friends.
There are noise concerns. Bothersome. Irritating. How did this happen? Were we asleep at the wheel? Was someone?