Posts Tagged ‘home’

    Sacred Sunday

    Monday, November 2nd, 2009

    There’s something about Sunday that always has me pause and give thanks. I reflect on my healthy mind and body, thoughtful parents, a flourishing marriage, a support system from here to halfway around the world, shelter, sustenance and my four-legged furries that nap all day long.

    I know there’s a reason I feel this way every Sunday; and I think you know, too.


    Tuesday, October 20th, 2009

    Somebody call HGTV because I think I found my calling: Home Decorator.

    It’s been almost a year since I began my search for the perfect pieces to style my home — think of it like the tale of Goldilocks, except that this Goldilocks carried a wallet.

    Aside from the one time I scalded myself on a bowl of porridge too hot, I’d say the other bowls — the ones in the pretty kitchen within the fabulous house — are just right.

    Let your light shine

    Saturday, October 17th, 2009

    “While popularly regarded as the Festival of Lights, the most significant meaning of Diwali is the awareness of one’s own inner light.”


    Wednesday, July 15th, 2009

    In mid-September, I will finally fly out to California to visit my family, friends and the place I grew up. I haven’t done so since getting married last November.

    Yet I still find myself describing San Jose as “home,” this after two moves, about 2,000 miles and nearly seven years of living anywhere but there.

    So it got me thinking: I wonder when the shift occurs — when people stop referring to their past as their present.

    My apartment…

    Thursday, May 8th, 2008

    is a wreck. The recycling bins are heaped well-intentionally. The gold sandals I wore last Friday are still splayed across the rug on the living room floor. A feather boa meant to excite the cats lies lifeless a foot away. Several pages of recipes and housekeeping tips (irony!) ripped from Real Simple magazine are in the days-old spots they fell upon when a strong breeze passed through. The laundry is piling up; the milk is expired; the kitchen sink is crying out; and the discount sofa, struggling to withstand daily use, is layered with the hair of four cats.

    I’m a wreck.

    I miss my mom. And my dad for that matter. I feel like I was better put together under their watch. They didn’t let me stray too far from cleanliness or responsibility or health in all the 24 years I lived with them. They’re not procrastinators; in fact, they follow a simple, reasonable regimen that prevents any overwhelming helplessness of “Where do I begin?”

    They don’t deal with shoes out of place or leftover dirty dishes or loads of this and heaps of that. They get things done … on the spot.

    And that’s really all there is to it.

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