Jane Austen (1775 - 1817), Mansfield Park
There are so many things to worry about these days and so many things to complain about, and it doesn’t do a damn bit of good to do either, so I’m trying not to. And failing miserably. So, I’ve decided that instead of using a blog to give a voice to my frustrations or my anger, I am going to use it to bring comfort.
The one thing I’m proud of is that people who come to my house tell me that it’s warm and inviting. It’s a carry over from my mom, I guess. All my friends used to congregate at our house, and now people congregate at mine. Going down to our favorite bar and sharing a dram with our friends is always fun, but I’d much prefer for our friends to hang out here and have a dram and a conversation. This is also where the Prayer Shawl group meets, where I teach friends to knit over a pot of tea, where my family comes for Thanksgiving, and where we have parties for Al’s co-workers. The door is always open, literally. We open the door so Cosette can look out the glass storm door and bark at the kids walking home from school or people walking their dogs.

Oh, I’m sure there will be those days when I will need to vent, and if I can’t vent here then what the hell good is having a blog anyway? Besides, sometimes conversations go that way and that’s OK.
I’m not exactly sure where this will go. I imagine it will always be a work-in-progress, but I’m going to be OK with that, even though that’s not like me. I like things to be thought out before producing, but I’ve decided I need to let go of these control issues. Besides, the jumble of unfinished projects around me are proof positive that just because you’ve planned it out, doesn’t mean it can be completed.
So, the door is open. Please come in. Unless you’re a vampire, then you are not welcome. Sorry.