Saturday, May 31, 2008

But... I Have Built-In Bookshelves!

A few days after my enlightened decision to become homeless, to let go of my apartment and roam Paris and the States for an undetermined amount of time, pragmatism reared its timid head. I was getting ready to go to bed. I sat on my bed and looked at my built-in bookshelves on the opposite wall. Wow. I've really given up my apartment. July 27th I will be officially homeless. But I like living here for the most part, neighbor proximity and noise aside. My studio is in a great neighborhood and I love the layout, including these built-in bookshelves which I have neatly and thoughtfully arranged my books on. I love laying here in my bed, looking at my books.

This initial and premature nostalgia for my built-in bookshelves gave way to further precipitate wistfulness, with the momentum of a downhill train. I have granite countertops in my kitchen, for God's sake! Granite! Isn't my kitchen one of the first things people comment upon when they see my apartment? How they marvel over the relatively ample size (given that it is a studio), the granite and the stainless steel appliances?! Am I not told repeatedly how fortunate I am to have such amenities in an apartment? I have a lovely window next to my dining table and a a rear door! How lovely to have a window in the kitchen, AND a rear door!

And the closet?! Haven't I always wanted such a closet? It reminds me a bit of Carrie's closet on "Sex and the City," but a bit smaller and with far less exciting contents. But it is a walk-through closet, leading to the the charming little bathroom with full sized tub and hexagon tiles! The bathroom where I've had such wonderful "revelations" standing before the adorable pedestal sink! How could I possibly consent to leave all of this?! And to leave it for what? No security, no comfort to return to after a long day, no place to watch my wonderful flat screen LCD HDTV? Really, I'm choosing such? Freely?!

This sudden and rather immense ruefulness did not last long, fortunately. I found myself laughing out loud at the absurdity of such feelings. These are things after all! Would I really relinquish my dreams of traveling, exploring, living... for built-in bookshelves?! And they aren't even real wood! They are particle board with adjustable shelves and not even really built into the wall. They house a hideaway bed that I don't even use (after all, how then would I be able to gaze at my books if I'm laying behind them?). Do I really think that I will never have another "home" that could have such things? Ridiculous.

And I've been here before. When I was married, my husband and I had an amazing house built, a house with the most charming little den for me to write in. This den had French doors, real built-in wood bookshelves and plush Berber carpet. Did those built-ins bring me any lasting happiness? Clearly not. And they did absolutely nothing to save our marriage, either.

This return to sanity was further verified at 130am, a few hours after the wistfulness over the built-ins, when my new neighbor sharing the very wall of the built-ins cranked her stereo on at an alarming volume. It was a Monday. I awoke abruptly and with what easily could have been perceived by another (if only there were another present) as a somewhat psychotic smile spreading on my face, I muttered out loud, "I am going to move." Although this disturbance was precisely that, it felt like a wonderful indication that I was doing the right thing and I was actually glad for it. I reached over to my bedside and grabbed Nietzsche's "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" and threw it across to the opposite wall. It seemed the appropriate thing to do. To really substantiate my decision to choose homelessness over built-in bookshelves, the next "morning" at exactly the same time, 130am, the music returned. This time I pounded against the wall with the thick binding edge of my not-so "Concise French Dictionary." The point was made and the music ceased. My conviction about homelessness strengthened.

What an insular notion... to cling to my little apartment interior and these things. I've always loved cozy little spaces and I've enjoyed my present home. I appreciate the comfort and fulfillment of a home with four walls and prominent traces of our presence in nearby books, framed photos, treasures and trinkets. But this will only be one of many homes for me. And I smile so widely when I think of the real bookshelves I might build in my own house one day. A quaint house on enough land so as to provide room for a Labrador or two to roam comfortably and without having to hear my neighbors having sex or repeatedly fighting and making up. I'm not beyond appreciating the need for home. I know I will yearn for a home while on the road. But interestingly, I just feel an intense desire to know that longing for home. I think that pain of being "homeless" makes the experience of traveling all the more gratifying. Home really is where the heart is and that can be anywhere. I need to know this feeling more deeply.

My current "backyard" is a landscaped alleyway facing another row of brick condo apartments like mine. The woman who lives directly behind me comes out to chat every now and then. She is in her 40s, single with 2 cats and heavy with regret. Her voice betrays her sadness for a life not fully lived. She talks of the two new armchairs she recently bought, how the cats have each staked out their respective chairs, and how she must work extra to pay for the chairs. She sighs and takes a sip from the can of diet Pepsi she holds. She tells me repeatedly how lucky I am to be able to go to Paris. How she wishes she could do something like that. I find it painfully difficult to talk with her at all because I know that if I cling to these built-in bookshelves, I might hold that same sad tone one day, right here in this very apartment with the granite countertops.

So, I trade my current "backyard" and these ordinary built-in bookshelves for a vast backyard, glorious, and for now.... wonderfully unknown:

*Photo, aptly titled, "Foggy Road Less Traveled," from here.


a quasi French woman said...

It is so refreshing to read someone else deconstructing her props. I do it all the time and find myself a bit lonely in not having anyone to mull it over outloud with.

About 10 years ago I remember very vividly sitting in the living room of my little duplex and looking at all my books on their shelves and saying to myself that, although I really did love them, they were all "props."

Ever since then, although I really do love them, I haven't been able to feel the same attachment to them that I used to feel. To the point that I spearheaded a campaign to move my husband and I into the smallest living unit that I could find in SoCal--an old beater trailer without even a usable shower. We walk 67 steps to a communal shower--one for boys, one for girls--every morning.

It's just water spewing out of a pipe so what the fuck difference does it make where it is--inside, outside--as long as it has some hot water with the cold and I can come out clean.

I like your musings of the moment and I lived above a clone of that neighbor only he was raising a 14 year old son and would start yelling at him every night at about 10pm, just when I wanted to go to sleep. We used to call it the "Bob Larson School of Child Rearing."

Keep writing. I'll be looking for the book signing event.

It is also refreshing to read someone writing about reflecting upon being American. Your plan brings to mind Steinbeck's "Travels with Charly" and William Least Heat Moon's ride 'round America. I'm not leaving for France before I get some of that riding around in.


b said...

Quasi French Woman... Thank you so much for visiting my blog and for leaving such a thoughtful comment! These bookshelves and such truly are props. That is a great way to perceive them. They are things that I could potentially allow to be weak substitutes for a life fully lived. Yes, as you feel, I do love my books. I love reading, experiencing other lives and lands through literature. But what about my own life? Shouldn't I be out there living it and not relying solely on these books to bring me that experience of being alive?

I love that you left your duplex and the "Bob Larson School of Child Rearing" to live in a trailer. The communal shower you describe actually sounds wonderful compared to the life in the duplex. It sounds like you appreciate life so much more as a result of this decision.

I absolutely love Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley." In fact, I just pulled it from my bookshelf and think I will reread it now. What better timing? It has been a couple of years since my last read. I am not familiar with William Least Heat Moon's Ride Round America. I will have to look for that.

Your comment is truly refreshing for me as well, to be able to connect with someone who gets "it" and celebrates the struggle as much as the reward. Thank you so very much for the encouragement! It means more than you know!! I look forward to reading your blog!

b said...

Quasi French... I didn't realize when I commented above that you are also the author of Halfway to France! Of course, this makes perfect sense now... strong, courageous, alive! Thanks again for this great comment!


carra said...

Having been homeless literally for years, I am not sure I'd give up my one bed apartment for the freedom of the road, but I have done in the past and I will be doing it again in a year or two. When I left home to go to Paris the first time, I had 200 euros on me and no real friends to look forward too. Later I had a shit job and not so good friends and I was like that for six months and sometimes I remember those days with so much pleasure, because it was back then that I truly realised the pleasures of life are the little ones... Sitting on a cliff with your feet soaking in the Atalantic, reading Hemingway and smoking, sleeping (during the day off) on a bench in the sun. Having a sandwich by the Seine. Yes those are treasures that I'll carry with me for a long time. It was hard because my income was not enough, I had no one to rely on, but I discovered myself. It is a brave step B!

Betty C. said...

You are young. You will have at least one home again, and probably many more.

La Belette Rouge said...

31 more days in your home. 31 more days to enjoy your counter tops and book cases---and I feel sure once you have said goodbye to them you will not miss them as you fear. But, how much you would have missed out on if you hadn't willingly said goodbye to them.

We have 31 days with our stuff too. And, I am noticing an air of melancholy about all manner of objects. Even as I took a shower this a.m. I felt a loss--realizing that soon I will be saying goodbye to our shower with the good water pressure and a large capacity water heater. Really, I am grieving my shower? Well, there is something about these small pleasures that add to the quality of our life. And, a hot shower is not such a small pleasure.

Book cases, water heaters and counter tops are great--but not when they hold us back. This period of homelessness, I am sure, will give us both a stronger sense of our home being in the world--and not limited to the confines of a cute 900 square foot apartment.

That said, I am going to miss my coffee cup. And, homeless or not, I am taking my pillow with me. ;-)

La Belette Rouge said...

P.S. I am going to pick up the Steinbeck today. You and AQFW inspired me. But, I am getting it at the library so I don't have something else I have to pack.

And, I think I have told you before but, Joseph Campbell had an affair with Steinbeck's wife. Le scandal!;-)

susan said...

Hi b - I just read your post as well as the fine and sympathetic comments left so far. My take on your feeling of tristesse-ennui is that as human beings we both embrace and fear change in our lives. Frequently, at our moments of greatest happiness we find a core of emptiness - a longing for something permanent and beautiful that will last forever which we understand can never be in physical manifestation. That's where prayer and meditation enter. I wish you peace and tranquility for your journey and that your presence will be of mutual benefit to you and the sentient beings you encounter.

La Framéricaine said...

Dear B,

I hope you weren't disconcerted by my multiple personalities! I'm sorry. The funny thing was that I didn't realize I was blogged in as "a quasi French woman" until I had hit the "oh, no!" button on my sincere comment.

I built 3 blog universes for 3 distinctly different aspects of my feelings about heading for France.

The first aspect was the literal event of moving and became "Halfway to France"; the second one had to do with the synthesis that had taken place in me over the past 30 years around speaking French and evolving in my FrancoAmerican identity which became "quasi French"; the third one is called "an ersatz Frenchwoman" and is the least developed, as it has/had to do with various negative feelings, reflections, remarks, attitudes associated with that same FrancoAmerican identity.

I'm most highly invested in HWTF but I have collected an exhaustive list of blogs that individuals such as ourselves have created associated with this Frenchy thing at AQFW and I go there to refresh my memory about what people are currently concentrating on!

Anyway, please forgive me for any confusion that I might have created.


our juicy life said...

These are just things, sure it's easy to hold on to them and be afraid to let go. But you are letting go and good for you. Just by going to Paris you will never be like your neighbor with the cats...sad and lonely. You will find new built in bookshelves one day. I like your "new" open, free, expanding, changing backyard so much better than your one now.

Anonymous said...

Everytime I leave Seattle for an adventure, I always have a bit of longing. I truly love living here, but I also love living other places too.

b said...


Hi! So good to "see" you here again! I know that you have moved so much in the past few years that some stability of a physical home must bring much comfort and understandably so. Being homeless does come with its excitements and downfalls. As you point out in your own experiences, that freedom brings with it such great appreciation of pleasures we so often take for granted in our daily lives.

My hope is that it doesn't have to be one or the other for me. I want to roam and explore and have a fixed home too one day.

Hope all is well with you!

b said...


Yes, I do feel young and even more so as I commit to this journey. It seems ridiculous to hang onto a physical building right now, when there will inevitably be many more in my future.

b said...

La Belette,

30 days! Can you believe it?! I hardly can. My days are now filled with back and forth longings. I have pangs of wistfulness here and there but the awareness of my journey always rises up and those moments are overwhelming too, overwhelmingly wonderful. I have absolute faith that I will not regret this decision. And I have absolute faith that there will be more bookshelves and granite countertops one day, if that's what I want.

I absolutely share that "air of melancholy about all manner of objects." Despite the seeming absurdity of bookshelves and hot water heaters, they bring a comfort, a familiarity, security. I know and readily admit that while on the road, I will long for these familiar comforts.

I will tire of lugging my stuff from place to place, using strange showers and sleeping in strange beds. But, the cost of such strangeness is one I can easily afford. Conversely, the cost of not taking this journey seems too much to bear.

You are right, the journeys we are embarking upon will give us a greater and stronger sense of what home is and who we are. Definitely not wisdom to be gained from the confines of a 600-900 square foot apartment.

No doubt we'll long for the things we are relinquishing and we'll openly share those longings and then deconstruct them quickly and gladly when we behold a new glory - the summer sun setting over the coast of Brittany or a sunrise over the Adirondacks in mid autumn. The immensity of such experiences will expand our hearts and souls and we'll laugh but also embrace those silly longings simultaneously. We'll be fuller, happier, and more alive. And then new coffee cups will present themselves and we'll be thrilled to affirm that more exists... that taking this brave journey doesn't limit us in any way. We truly can have it all!

It is so amazing that we can share our experiences along the way. We're both embarking on the biggest journey of our lives to date and it is so incredible to share and commiserate with you!!

I hope you enjoy Travels with Charley. I'm glad that AQFW mentioned it in her comment. I have started rereading it and interestingly, when I pulled it from my bookshelf, a receipt fell out. I purchased the book 2 years ago to the day (June 1st) at the OSU bookstore! Seeing this receipt brought back such wonderful memories... I sat and thought about what mindset I was in then and where I'm at now. I hope you enjoy it!

And no, I never knew that Campbell had an affair with Steinbeck's wife!!

b said...


Thank you for this incredible comment. You have inspired my next blog post and so much awareness with your insight.

I so agree that as humans we both embrace and fear change. It is a constant struggle and thus, I somehow understand why many people resist change so fiercely. Yet, I cannot resist it... it is far too essential to my sense of being alive.

We really do try to grasp at something permanent. Despite knowing that the beauty of a moment will not last forever, we somehow want it to and occasionally expect it to. And I am always trying to find peace with those moments, a lasting peace.

I want to embrace the memories without aching for them. I do believe you are absolutely right about prayer and meditation in this regard. I am not a religious person whatsoever but I do consider myself spiritual. A few months ago I was diligently reading from the Tao daily and other meditations. This brought about such peace and acceptance. But then, I stopped. I'll go into this more in my next blog post but really, I think that prayer/meditation is very different than introspection and philosophy. It transcends such and brings about a tremendous sense of peace and harmony.

Thank you again for this enlightening comment as well as your kind wishes!

Very gratefully,

susan said...

One quick extra thought for you. I pretty much unconsiously started practicing walking prayer many years ago. It can be simple like 'thank you' (for showing me this or that) or any prayer, mantra or recitation that appeals to you which can be kept going in the background.

Religion ususally indicates following a certain prescribed format. Spirituality involves a direct experience of Reality. Neither one appeals to everyone but it's good for a seeker to have a clue about direction.

it's el said...

I don't know if you're familiar with Mary Oliver's poem "The Journey," but I had to share it with you - I find so much peace and comfort every time I read it. Enjoy your Paris journey! (I'm el by the way; I just stumbled across your blog via LBR's.)

Randal Graves said...

You're bringing those spaces with you. Whatever you've gleaned from those books are with you as you travel. Unless you didn't read any of them. ;-)

Home is where you hang your hat.

La Belette Rouge said...

El: So funny you should mention that poem. I just started a post about that poem. A friend of mine who is going on a vision quest was using that poem was given that poem as a means of anchoring his adventure.
I love Mary Oliver!

And, Randal and B: Home is not where you keep your Homer--but where you keep your Jack Daniel's!;-)

Anonymous said...

"home is where you keep your homer"



bah dum chi! I'm here all week folks. Tip your servers.

b said...

La Framéricaine,

No apologies necessary. I had previously initiated a new blog, Towards Paris, and was doing the same thing when I was leaving comments. It confused me more than anyone, I believe!

I started the Towards Paris blog for the very reasons that you built your 3 "blog universes." There is so much to moving... the technicalities and physical moving, the spiritual moving, the growth, the philosophical nature of moving, the Hero's Journey, etc. etc. etc. I too have struggled with giving each ample space on my blog. I love the idea of all three of your blogs!

Thank you again for your insightful and inspiring comments!


b said...

Our Juicy Life,

They are just things and I do not have to relinquish them completely. The books will be boxed and taken care of at my parents' house, some will be left out for the journey. The bookshelves are just dust collecting things, really. :)

I always feel a bit sorry when I talk about my cat neighbor or bring up the Paris Je t'aime short about the woman who finally goes to Paris but the experience is limited because she is living but a half-life. I know that their pain must be great and my mention is never to elevate myself or assert superiority. I truly know the potential to become such and have to remind myself constantly that I cannot be that.

Thank you.... I too love my new, open, free, uncertain, and ever-changing backyard. The view is always spectacular and surprising. I know this journey will forever change me and it will allow me to break through that barrier of existence. No doubt, your journey will do the same for you!

b said...


Yes, the longing is always there. When we are in a fixed place, we long to go and when we are on the go, we long to stay. I think for us, we need to be able to move between those two... fixed and roaming... freely. And that is really more feasible than it seems, I believe.

b said...


You know, I actually do the walking prayer all the time! Nature so easily induces it for me now, as well as humanity. Oh, and dogs of course! :)

Religion and spirituality are very subjective terms, especially spirituality. I feel very connected with life and believe in God/a magnificent energy that transcends science. I understand the appeal of identifying with religion. Individual spirituality can be tricky, trying to navigate spiritual development. However, for me, it is a rewarding challenge and the ambiguity does not frighten me.

b said...

It's El,

Thank you so much for visiting my blog. I am so looking forward to reading Oliver's "The Journey" and will look it up right now. I so appreciate when others pass along their inspiration!

b said...


You're absolutely right. I am bringing these spaces with me. Haha.... yes, I've read most of the books on my bookshelves. However, there are quite a few I have yet to read. I have this thing with bookstores. If I step foot in a bookstore, two books must come home with me! And I'm such an "in the moment" kind of reader, I need to have at least several books waiting for me to choose from, depending on which might be "calling" me at a given time.

Well, I'm not really a hat wearing kind of girl, but maybe as Belette suggests, home is where I tip the Jack back? :)

b said...

La Belette,

What synchronicity! I'm going to read this poem now! And I'll look forward to your post on it!

Yes, home is where the Jack is! Ahh.... sweet companion of mine! :) No doubt, there will be a bottle of Jack traveling with me at all times! And perhaps even Homer will come along as well!

b said...


Haha... yes, that nutty Belette! :) I'm glad I've got y'all to keep the nerd love flowing!

Richard said...

Being able to let go is a good thing. Unfortunately, I am very attached to my books. They are easily the single largest and heaviest thing in any move (even more so than the piano). Of course, it is not the books per se that I am attached to, but to the world I can retreat to in those books. They are an extension of my personal space. You might imagine a library or a bookstore would be sufficient, but they are not. Those are very clearly public spaces and the books and space are not mine.

The trick is to have your personal space within you, so you are free to travel. That was the great innovation of the Jewish people over their neighbours - a personal God who lived within them and not in a statue or a rock or a tree. It is also the ideal of the Stoics, to have within that inner sanctum of peace.

While I might be more spaced out than most, I still need a real and physical personal space.

It is very romantic of you to roam Paris and the States for an undetermined amount of time. I wish you well. The trick is to journey forward.

I find a lot of people don't journey forward, they get stuck in temporal bubbles and want things to remain the same forever (big problem with immigrants). It was one of my biggest disappointments to discover my friends in Montreal had not really moved forward in the years I had been gone. Oh, there are the definite superficial changes: marriages, children, homes, tenure at McGill, thinning hair, etc ... But when I get together with them, it is like being transported back 20-25 years and reliving the same life. On the one hand, the comfort of familiarity is wonderful. On the other hand, the stagnation is cloying.

I want stability, I want comfort, I want familiarity, but I also want to grow. I don't want to be potted. On the other hand, where am I? Who am I to complain? I am still in pretty much the same place I was 5-6 years ago (mind you, in a much better frame of mind) - though, I hope I have been inching forward.

I definitely think you will thrive as you wander. And, as the old Irish blessing goes: May the road rise up to meet you / May the wind always be at your back / May the sun shine warm upon your face / and rains fall soft upon your fields


It's lovely to live on a raft. We had the sky up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them, and discuss about whether they was made or only just happened. - Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

b said...


I too am attached to my books and fortunately I will not have to relinquish them. They will be safely kept at my parents' house. But yes, I'll miss having them around me. I will of course take some with me.

Personal space is wonderful and I've always loved establishing and nestling in my own personal space. But that urge is upon me and I really need to heed to it this time. The substitute experiences can no longer sustain me, even briefly. Of course, I want it all. I would love to establish a wonderful personal space and be able to travel often. But as I say this I realize that relinquishing that kind of security is essential to really living this upcoming journey. It is simultaneously exhilarating and frightening.

Yes, the key is to truly put faith in the personal space within ourselves. I think the ability to do so will provide a lasting peace. As far as moving forward, progress is so subjective. For me, I can rather easily detect a stagnant soul, even if I've only just met them. Even if they've got the promotions, the family, etc., there is a sadness I feel so acutely. I want everyone to feel alive, to realize their soul's yearning. Such stagnation makes me deeply sad for these people.

I battle these questions all the time regarding stability, comfort, familiarity, growth, etc. I think that is an essential human struggle. Somehow, we must find a way to satisfy both/all. I think it is possible but it is challenging... embracing struggle always leads to deeper struggle. But my hope is that by embracing such struggle, we come to a peace with ourselves and life. Here's hoping! For me, it doesn't feel like a choice. Confronting that struggle is something I must do. Exhausting!

Thank you for these very kind words. I truly know that I will thrive through wandering. I love this Old Irish blessing and the Mark Twain quote. Both hugely inspiring and comforting. I am writing both down to turn to in those more acute moments of struggle.

Very Gratefully,

Richard said...

You are welcome, but you don't actually have to write them down, just cut, paste, and print. That is what I do (of coursee, I really should print and hang - on the other hand, discovering some inspirational gem tucked away in a sheaf of papers is is also nice.)

Je ne regrette rien said...

b-a couple of reactions to your post. First, I kind of was imagining just how far those 2 armchairs could have taken your neighbor. hmmm. also. I'm a bit of a 'thing' person. yes, I've battled being overtaken by them, but at the same time I refuse to believe that there is something wrong with treasures. not based on $ amount. Also, I love having a home. but a meaningful, weighty home. that is what I envision in France. I lean toward small to tiny spaces. cozy. with my mark. there is a book called the book of tiny houses. one is a hippy type built on the back of a truck. but OH the comfort. the ingenuity small spaces require. the necessity of recognizing the true treasures. so you have 3 books. instead of 300. on a tiny bookshelf! you get where I'm going with all of this? good, because I'll be damned if I do!

PS-what's this I hear about the opportunity of a lifetime to meet scintillating blog authors in Cannon Beach? va-va-VOOM!

Cavalock said...

Your views/posts are always so refreshing and new to someone like who lives across the world from you. I welcome it and it really makes me think. I can tell you that here in Singapore no one would ever think being ‘homeless’ or leaving our ‘safe’ environment. I admit I am very afraid of change too but I know change is inevitable in life. Slowing but I think I’m getting there.

Iheartfashion said...

I felt sad for your neighbor reading this post, but happy for you for recognizing the value of travel, experience and freedom over stuff. What a wonderful time you'll have in Paris! And who knows, there may even be built-in bookshelves in your future...

b said...


Haha. You're funny. Yes, I can cut and paste and print. I may have to do that with all the quotes I am compiling for inspiration while on the road. I do like to handwrite things on slips of paper here and there, as you mention. They seem more special that way.

b said...

Je ne regrette rien,

Yes, those armchairs! Oh, I so understand the connection to things. I know that connection is not necessarily shallow or materialistic. There is absolutely nothing wrong with treasures, comfortable chairs, etc. I just know that sometimes I expect too much out of purchases and that what I really need to spend money and effort on is experience right now. And I find it sad that I might be able to let this travel opportunity pass me by because I don't want to lose my bookshelves?

Really, we both know it isn't the things themselves that hold us back but that those very things can be a reason not to experience life. i.e., "I would go to Paris for a month if I didn't have to pay off these armchairs." Okay, I'm the one who is all over the place with this comment!

I too lean toward small, cozy spaces! :) And yes, bloggers unite in Cannon Beach!! Hooray!

b said...


So good to "see" you again! Thank you for this gracious comment! I love that blogging allows us to connect with people all over the world.

Being "homeless" is scary and security is very important to people. I completely understand that. l know I will have security again, when I choose it, and that brings me much comfort and courage to embrace this temporary homelessness. :)

Change is both exhilarating and frightening, isn't it?

b said...

i heart fashion,

I feel sad for my neighbor as well and as I mentioned above in another response comment, I so don't want to sound as though I am ridiculing her. I appreciate her situation and her fear. I just don't want that for myself. I know that it doesn't have to be that way but it does take faith and courage to embark on such a journey.

Thank you for the kind wishes. I am certain that Paris will be wonderful and yes, I do see built-in bookshelves in my future! :)

Anonymous said...

You surely can write. I wish i had that kind of talent. You're a natural! :-)

Hey, don't worry. You're making all the right decision! Burn all those bookshelves!! hehe. It feels good to be homeless sometimes, the best memories of my life were when i didn't have a roof over my head. That kind of feeling is priceless.

Now, since you are an expert. Do you think throwing a cookbook at my wall will stop my neighbors from fornicating at 3 am? :-)