All Things Go – The Death of a Favorite Mug – The Birth of Bric-a-Brac

I always pride myself on being able to catch things as they fall. The key is not to chase after it with your hand, but to put your hand where it is going to be. The effect can be quite impressive. It is my super power. Alas, no super power was to save my lovely green mug as it found the gap in my Ikea draining basket a few days ago and crashed onto the ceramic tiles.

Can I tell you how much I loved this mug – the wonderful etched branches in the deep, clear green of the glass? It was a perfect tea mug on a cold day, and was just a pleasure to look at. In order to keep this piece around, I proceeded to lay it on the gas burner to see if I could heat it up and smooth its edges. A professional glass blower I am not, and succeeded in only getting more cracks in the glass. So, here for posterity is a safe digital image, and If I keep this new piece of bric-a-brac at all, it will be on a high shelf. Here is a similar, still intact beauty, but, alas, it is a small tumbler and not a mug.

Housenaming – A Bit of Fun

As I alluded to a little while ago on the blog, I have bought a house. By the end of this week, I will officially be the owner…er, mortgage payer And by Saturday, Lord willing, all my worldly goods will have been moved into it. This is pretty exciting. As I contemplate this move, it occurs to me that some people name their homes, and, well, I am that sort of person.

In talking with some friends, I also discovered the reason why people who are having a baby don’t generally tell their friends the name ahead of time is because there is actually a chance that before the name is affixed to an official certificate and to a wriggling wee one that one’s friends might just be honest, and the name which has such meaning to one may be, well….mocked or at the very least come in for some odd looks or gentle ribbing. Such was my fate last night with a group of friends upon my uttering the name for my house which I had been contemplating. In addition to uproarious laughter though, there was also a very creative suggestion for a name, and it led me to think of some meaningful alternates, which leads to….your mission, should you choose to accept it, which is to vote for a name on the list.

By way of disclaimer, I am not holding myself to pick the name with the most votes, but I will at least publish the results here and post the name I pick some time at the end of January. So without further ado, here are the candidates, along with my reasons for choosing them.

CLICK HERE TO VOTE!!!

das Haus
Well, this is rather cool for its simplicity and how it sounds and, well, because my last name is Das and it is a haus, er, house.

Rivendell – StL
OK, so this option may be rather cheesy and confirm me as a bit of a nerd as it comes from the The Lord of the Rings books. However, the motive for this is that Rivendell is also described as “The Last Homely House west of the Mountains” and is a place where all manner of folk can find what they like best to do, whether that is frivolity or contemplation. Mirroring Rivendell would, of course, be a rather impossible example to follow, but I would like my house to express at least hints of its essence. Being rather Hobbit-ish myself, I would have chosen Bag End but the house is not, alas, a hobbit hole in the side of a mountain.

Rosenheim
This choice has the most lineage and perhaps is most closely connected to my family. It is, oddly enough, a German name once again (which perhaps is appropriate as my mother’s maiden name was Bodenbach) and means “home of the roses.” It was the name of the collection of houses on a lovely hillside where we lived in the mountains of Pakistan when my parents would come up to spend some time in the hills where our boarding school was located. It was also the name my father gave to his house here, the selling of which upon his passing is what makes my home even a possibility, and this is dear to me. Of course, I would need to grow roses, but how sweet would that be.

Harland House
I am told by my friends who sold me this house that it was once the home of the father of American urban planning, Harland Bartholomew. How cool is that, to live in the former home of someone who has their very own Wikipedia page Another, positive of this name is its lovely alliteration and to give a man his due.

Write-in
It is election season, and though Mr. Gingrich evidently cannot be a candidate (write-in or otherwise) in his own home state because he did not file the paperwork, you can vote a write-in here. Just be nice, eh

So, without further rambling…..CLICK HERE TO VOTE!!!

House buying – Some haiku – Intro and Series one – St. Louis Brick Homes

while in the basement
i first feel the weight; the
gravity of stone

gravity of stone
and brick; the laughing light through
ancient stained glass
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People buy houses. People get married. People have babies. Not necessarily in that order, nor as a package deal. Nor are people’s reasons for doing so always the best or wisest. Nevertheless, I have always had tremendous admiration for folk who do any, and especially all, of these things — who have the courage to stick in there to try do them well.

I, at long last, am venturing to do just the first item on this list. And as I am in the middle of getting the thing done, a host of thoughts and feelings keep come rushing into my mind and heart.

The upshot for you, the reader/viewers of this blog, is that a whole new area of experience is opening up for me, and, well, you are welcome to come along for the ride — to experience the pictures and words that will appear here as a natural by-product of such growth.

The first two haiku appear above. And by way of explanation, I chose the word “ancient” over the more correct “antique” because I like its sound. I am not buying an abbey. But if you know anything about old St. Louis homes with their brick and wood floors and stained glass, you will know they can be amazing, and this one is a peach, cared for and used to the glory of God by dear fellow churchfolk. It will be a hard act to follow.

Oh, and with the word “stained,” yeah go Medieval and read it with two syllables.

Still much to do, but the excitement mounts!