Last week was a transitioning week of sorts. But we all fell into step pretty easily.
Last week, I drove J up north to spend time with his mom and start the official move out of his apartment. He came home with a list of yard sale items, including massive amounts of outdated computer and music equiptment.
He also came home with the fixings for his practice space that we had decided to set up in the corner of the bedroom, seeing that it is the only spare space in this entire condo for a musician’s massive keyboard and handmade wooden stand. I feel badly, but apparently not as badly as he was feeling…this is the kind of guy he is…you see, we were lying there in bed, looking at the space in the corner and he goes “I feel so bad, I am going to screw up the cute look of your bedroom.”
This was his main concern, while mine is that he may feel he doesn’t have enough space of his own in our home together. I love my 8×10 studio space and have contemplated moving out of it and using my display space in the living room, as my studio, but he will have nothing to do with that. “There is no way in hell I am taking your studio space. You’re keeping it. I’ll take the bedroom.”
I dream of him having a great studio space for all his stuff, his beautiful old restored piano that will stay up north at his mother’s house, until we either rent him a studio or buy ourselves that big old house with a barn. (or a garage)
At any rate, the transition this week as he arrived on Thursday with a small truck full of things, went smoothly. We had parties to go to with the kids, walked down the street to breakfast where the girls decided they loved hash browns (for the first time) and sausage. And the girls had a sleepover at my mother’s so that I could be there on opening night this season at his piano bar gig.
He started at 8pm and by 8:15, the place was near full of people . They’d filtered in, passing him at the piano with a wave and “hello”. Some hugged him. Some put money in his tip bowl right off the bat. These were all friends and followers, supporters, all who had been there on his last night back in October, all folks who saw his name advertised as returning this season. Many looked for me and while he played he turned around and found me and pointed and then I said my hellos.
It was inspiring and endearing and touching to see him received like this.
And then the second night was equally awesome.
Anyway, back to the practice space in the bedroom. From how he talked, it was going to be huge and invasive and ugly, when in reality, when I saw it after he set it up, it wasn’t bad at all.
In fact, I love it. I love his stuff here. The girls do too.
We’re going to be painting it white, to kind of buffer the raw wood look. And he’ll have books on the shelf above.
There was only one teenie tiny thing though. And it’s something I know will always be, because he told me flat out “this is my chair, it is the only chair I practice in.”
My response when I saw it?
“Would you mind if I recovered it?”
(I had to make this really large, so you can see it is covered in some really horrible faux wool. And the duct tape on the arms. There’s duct tape on a piece of furniture now, here in my home. It was bound to happen.)