I grew up in the seventies. My parents still live in the house I was raised in. There was a den in which I watched cartoons on Saturday mornings and kids shows after school. I watched the original Star Trek and the Dukes of Hazard. I never missed an episode of The Love Boat or Fantasy Island and I'm fairly certain I kissed more than one boy on the couch in there when I was a teen.
There were decorations befitting the 1970's in that room. There was a strange piece that my father's friend made with thick layers of paint and various found objects. I remember looking at the cigarette filters imbedded in the painting and wondering why anyone ever thought that was art.
There was a coffee table too in the den. My father and his friend got a large cable spool and put some two-by-four planks on the bottom covered in felt for feet. They put a lovely orange Naugahyde cover on the top and held it down with heavy-duty staples. This coffee table was annoying. It was also useful. It was annoying because you couldn't get your legs under it or around it or in any way that made drawing or reading or painting comfortable. But it was there for years and somehow I made do and got lots of things done on it.
I don't know what happened to the coffee table, but it had long outlived it's stylishness by the time my parents got rid of it. That den was a beautiful wood. It had hardwood floors and pine walls and pine bookshelves. It was dark and warm and welcoming. Today, that color wood and that dark a room isn't in style either. Recently, my father decided to paint the room a more neutral color.
I asked him to send me pictures of the room in-progress. It's the last I'll see of the den I grew up in, the way I remember it, with the brown Levelour blinds and floor to ceiling wood. But the new den may look even nicer with the spritzing up my father has planned.
I still get to see that strange painting his friend made, because he has it high up on one of the walls in their mountain home. Even though it's far away, I can still see those cigarette filters, and I still think, "why would someone think that's art?"
The Big Boy Update: Fever and Tired. My son was tired all day and had a mild fever. He was so lethargic he didn't really care if the television was on or not, but he didn't really want to go to sleep either. His sister went through this a few days ago, so I'm guessing it's a one-day thing.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Clothing opinionated. She either likes something or she doesn't. Hello Kitty pink rain boots? Wonderful! Warm and fuzzy pink boots? Dreadful! We shall see if she has good fashion sense when she gets older.
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