Home. Homey. Home-ish.

Thank you, Collette.

Home is on my mind.

This week marks 10 years of living in our house, which has become over time, experience, buckets of sweat equity if not actual financial equity (thank you, recession) a home. When we took possession of the property in April 2000, we were giddy soon-to-be-married lovers. Everything we did was a romantic moment. Our first meal in this house was Middle Eastern takeout.  We sat cross-legged on the scuffed hardwoods, scooping tabbouleh and hummus onto our plates. Between bites of stuffed grape leaves, we chatted and laughed and listened to our voices bounce around the bare walls.  We discussed changing the paint color, improvement projects, where my then 6-year-old daughter would sleep, where our *gasp* future children would have their bedrooms. This modest brick bungalow was the blank slate of our future.

After a wedding ceremony, a pregnancy and miscarriage, an adoption process that resulted in another girl child in our home, endless home projects, parties, illnesses, spilled paint and shattered dreams, a parade of Christmas trees, birthday party sleepovers,  financial heights and economic lows, power outages, infestations, and the first green sprouts of renewed hope, we are still here. Our marks add to the collective history of this little house built in 1941. While I may resent the moldy basement, the dingy siding, the windows that don’t open, I also have a deep gratitude for these sturdy walls, floors and the roof. The bones of this place have held up. They’ve  given us shelter from the heat, the cold, and the economic storms. During the darkest hours of our despair, I’ve  felt comfort in this house as it held me in its quiet embrace.

I’ve been thinking about  my hometown.

No, Detroit is not a travel destination. No one drools with envy when I announce I am from Detroit. However, I have the pleasure of knowing as friends and as acquaintances a number of people from all over the world who are happy to make Detroit their home.  These people  left behind their cosmopolitan cities, their colorful cultures, their mountain views and beachfront vistas to come here to this (insert latest media catch phrase). They like the cultural diversity, the music scene, the abundance of water, hunting for and discovering the hidden gems amid the ruins, and the niceness of the people. Despite our crime statistics and widely reported corruption, people here are nice. Really.

Do not believe everything you read and hear about Detroit. Read this transplant’s blog post to gain a fresh perspective on national and international reporting on Detroit.

I’ve been thinking about  local bloggers.

I was thrilled to open The Detroit Free Press today to find two of my favorite Detroit-area bloggers featured in a larger story about, well, blogging. I’ve met Melissa of Rock and Drool. She is a beautiful and dynamic woman who doesn’t hide behind a persona or false words. She dishes it out straight. I love that about her. I’ve not met the other Melissa who writes Suburban Bliss, but I’ve been reading her blog for years.  I found her by accident when I Googled “MOMS Clubs in my neighborhood.” It appears she saved me from the special hell of organized play groups.  At the time, I was a former career woman sitting alone in my house wondering how I was going to get through another day. How was I going to find other stay-at-home mothers who were like me? Suburban Bliss helped me realize I was not alone. Not only did I start blogging shortly after that, but I also formed my own play group.

I’ve been thinking about my home on the Web.

I have neither the numbers nor the controversy surrounding my site to gain any attention, so the media will not be knocking on my door anytime soon. Whew! Whatever it is I do, another fellow Detroit blogger, Collette of My Babcia’s Babushka, gave me a pat on the back and declared my blog all home-like, or homely, or home-ish or something like that. Thank you, Collette, for the props.

Home is on my mind.

7 thoughts on “Home. Homey. Home-ish.

  1. I love your description of your home and your hometown. It makes me want to visit Detroit, which really isn’t that far from me. What is it they say? Home is where you hang your hat? That doesn’t have the warm fuzzy feeling I was reaching for but you know what I mean.
    .-= Jen´s last blog ..And They Called It Puppy Love =-.

  2. What a gorgeous post. I love the description of your home; I could feel its endearing embrace as I read along. I love Melissa of Rock Drool so I will have to read that article. I love my visits to your home on the web. It’s cozy and inviting and enlightening. Thanks you for inviting us in.
    .-= Mama Mary´s last blog ..carindal sins of dress shopping =-.

  3. What a lovely post.

    We moved into our current home 12 years ago. While we weren’t exactly newlyweds, it was still our first house, and we were excited, despite the bright red carpeting in the bedrooms. We ordered takeout — Italian beef sandwiches — and ate it at our first real dining room table (we got it and a china cabinet with the house). We felt so grown-up! Our house has its faults, but it was built to last (well, most of it) and it holds a lot of happy memories.
    .-= JD at I Do Things´s last blog ..I Go Braless so you don’t have to =-.

  4. Your blog *is* comfy! I feel like I can come here and just be comfortable and not read contrived drivel set out to ensnare the reader in controversy or what’s popular at the moment. You’re real and genuine and solid…just like those walls that surround you and protect you.

    After more than a year of reading and commiserating, laughing and sometimes crying, I feel as welcome here in your “home” as you know you are in mine!

  5. Audrey: Thanks and likewise.
    JD: Red carpeting? That beats pink paint by a wide margin.
    Mary:Thanks for responding to the invitation. I feel the same way about your blog.
    Jen: come to Detroit. You will live to tell the tale.
    Tanya:Glad to be there for you. Someday I hope to hear Mink Valley live.

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