I may not have roses this year, but I do have hydrangeas. 

They’re very pretty. They’re growing by my front porch, so I can sit out there in the peacock blue rocking chair my parents gave me and read while admiring the flowers.

It’s not quite the same as sitting with the roses and herbs; for one thing, it doesn’t smell as good. For another, there is no reclining lawn chair involved.  For another, my porch still has tubs of soil sitting on it, which sort of spoil the effect.

I think a domestic weekend may be called for.

I’m reviewing a book for the author. It’s intended to be read one page per day for a year. Each day has a quotation to ponder, thoughts, and action steps. The object is that you set a goal or goals and after a year you’ll be where you want to be, having been encouraged on the way by your daily readings.

Some of the readings are the usual sort of thing you might expect, about reaching for the stars and whatnot, but some are new to me. One that keeps returning to my mind asked whether your home or office is the kind of place where success would want to hang out.

I’ve honestly never contemplated this before.

Admittedly, I don’t think of success as a visitor who checks out the surroundings before deciding whether or not to settle in.

But the question did make me look around a bit. My house right now isn’t looking like the kind of place where I would want to hang out, let alone a symbolic embodiment of success. I’m meeting with a designer in my office this afternoon, and it looks fairly pitiful.

I think that matters. I think of the curtain rising on a play. The set is there, and we’re intended to draw conclusions about the characters based on that set.
I think that my house generally — if viewed as a stage set — would make you think that a nice, creative, comfortable family lived there. I think it’s a happy and pretty place overall.

But there’s only so much neglect a place can take before it begins to look like a stage set about neglectful people.

My office has  a bare quilt frame standing on its end. My son took the quilt off while he was here but couldn’t figure out how to fold up the frame, so he stood it up and hung jackets on it.

A bit of wallpaper is coming down — I’ve been meaning to fix it but haven’t yet. One of the closet doors is off its track, and we haven’t fixed that yet, either. The desk is a hand me down from my son, who got it as a hand me down from a friends, and then I stuck the top part of another ancient desk onto it to hold books and discs. There’s a bed in here, too — I actually don’t mind that, but it ought to be made to look more sofa-like.

Sounds like a good project for the weekend.

I’m also meeting with a client (a client of The Computer Guy’s firm) in her office this afternoon. I’ll look around and see whether it seems like the kind of place where success would want to hang out.