I was looking through a Better Homes and Gardens a few weeks ago and found this darling place, Breeze Cottage:
Isn’t that the cutest thing ever? Plus it’s in the town of Tybee Island on the Georgia coast, so ocean! Yes, I know, hurricanes, but also ocean! Then I read the article. The cottage belongs to Mary Kay Andrews, a former friend who is former because never told me she had a darling cottage near the ocean. Okay, she’s still a friend, but she writes great mysteries as Kathy Trochek which is a genre that is currently kicking my writing-blocked ass AND she has a cottage that’s finished and gorgeous while mine still has no walls, AND hers is near the ocean, AND it’s in Georgia so it’s warm in the winter, so really, she’s walking the edge of friendship here. I mean LOOK HOW CUTE THIS IS:
Plus it has a pink front door. I want that pink front door and turquoise hat rack and chartreuse glider, so now I must paint some things of mine pink and turquoise and chartreuse.
Yes, I know I sound chaotic, but it’s cottage lust. Or maybe just house lust, that passion for a future space–someday I will have this in my life; some day I will open a pink front door, someday when I wake up, I will see a turquoise hat rack, someday I will sit on a chartreuse glider, some day my life will be like this. I think that’s healthy. My mother used to keep a scrapbook of pictures she found in magazines for the house she wanted to have some day. The house she got wasn’t as glorious as the pictures, but it was a house she loved, and she did things to it that made her happy because she’d spent all that time cutting pictures out of magazines before she got there. She planned for a future space she was never sure she’d have; she built her dream house in her head, and then later moved into a good house that she could do many the same things with.
My cottage is not on the ocean and never will be. It’s not going to have a pink front door because pink front doors belong in the south and would look odd on my northeasten cottage house. I’m probably not going to have a chartreuse glider because I don’t have a big old porch to put it on. These are not deal breakers. But looking at Mary Kay’s house made me realize that the plans I’ve been making have been too cautious. I knew I was going to put all my really colorful stuff downstairs in the space that’s going to be for me and my dogs only, and then go with white and tasteful pastels on the main floor. Now I’m rethinking that. Not the white walls: I have so much color in the things I own that the white walls are the only thing that’ll keep people from going blind when they visit. But there’s no reason I can’t paint my mission settee turquoise if I want. No reason that my family’s antique pie safe that my mother fastidiously stripped all the milk paint from (I know, I KNOW) can’t be stripped of its thick 50’s plastic varnish and painted chartreuse. (Actually, thank you, mom, for stripping the pie safe of its value so I can paint it without guilt.) I can do what I want. I don’t have to be tasteful, it’s MY HOUSE. Or in this case Mary Kay Andrew’s house, but you know what I mean.
Mary Kay Andrews Cottage Lust, I haz it.