Tonight we visited new friends in their new home in Chapel Hill. It was a bit shocking, really: a young couple just a little bit older than us, with a really, really nice home. It was complete with new furniture - leather, and dark wood, and mirrors - the really nice kind that makes you ooooh and aaaah in the catalogues. I wanted to go around touching everything and saying, "this is so pretty, and this... and this..." but I tried to put on my I'm-not-shocked face instead, so that they wouldn't suspect that my home looks much different.
But it does. What is my newest addition? A (very clean) bulletin board I salvaged from a dumpster, covered with a cloth I sewed out of colorful fabric scraps, over which we are pinning up our favorite family photos with thumb tacks shaped like stars. Schick.
On the way home I was feeling a little insecure and said, "Marcos I don't even know if I could have them over. Our apartment is so.... simple". He just looked at me and said with some disappointment in his voice, "Don't ever say that. We should never worry about those things when it comes to inviting people to our house". He is totally right, and I'm trying to get the logic to translate over to my honest feelings about the issue. I have to remind myself that we're all at different chapters of life, and having a home with a good spirit is accessible to all people. What's more, hosting is a dying art, and maybe it's all of this Keeping Up With the Joneses stuff is what is getting in the way of us being the most friendly people in history!