There is a garage and a modern gymnasium in the basement. There is a hall with French windows and a fireplace on the ground floor. Around the hall, there is the kitchen, the living room and the dining room. The kitchen unit is white wood and it has an inbuilt fridge, oven and dishwasher. The living room is the biggest room of the house. The walls are white and on the walls are some black and white photos of my family. In the middle of the room is a comfortable cream sofa with patterned cushions. The room has a special alcoves with bookshelves. There is door heading from the living room to the terrace with amazing panoramic view on the Bay of Cannes. In the corner of the hall is spiral stairway. There are two bedrooms with bathrooms and office room on first floor. The office room has scarce antique table. In attic is my bedroom with skylights over the bed. The attic includes bathroom with light green tiles and big closet. My bedroom is in pink and white colours.
Inside the house, the central hall on the ground floor has French windows and a fireplace. Opening off the hall are the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room. The kitchen cabinetry is white wood, and there's a built-in refrigerator, oven, and dishwasher. The living room is the biggest room in the house. The walls are white, decorated with oversized graphics, mostly black-and-white enlargements of photos of my family. In the middle of the room is a big, soft, comfortable cream sofa with brightly-patterned throw cushions. The room has special built-in alcoves for bookshelves. A door opens from the living room to the terrace, with its spectacular panoramic view of the Bay of Cannes.
This “As for me & my house” sign is made from 100% reclaimed wood sourced in San Antonio, Texas! We think rustic farmhouse style signs have such a beautiful look to them, and we just love bringing a little bit of the outside into our home. We hope you will agree!
As a child, I was not fond of eating out. My family would eat at a restaurant, diner, or buffet at least once a week, often more than once. Every time we went anywhere, but for a little place called Rivenee’s, it was a challenge for my parents to find proper food and a nice atmosphere. Rivenee’s was that lucky exception—I loved the place and this made my parents love it too. The restaurant seemed magical and fascinating to me when I was an elementary school kid, and surprisingly, the place still fascinates me today. Recently, when I visited my old family house for Thanksgiving, I was astonished and pleased to find out the place still operated and, in fact, was still run by the same family. Apart from the house in which I grew up, Rivenee’s is probably the dearest place to me in the small town, just outside of San Ramon, where I was born and raised.
As for me and my house sign - Peaceful Home
[…] this is just a little celebration to share. Yesterday was 1000 people who have read my essay My House or is it Home – an Essay. I feel that I am making a difference and thank you all of you for coming to read my essays. Since […]
My Father Raped Me…Then Walked Me Down the ..
My essay seems to have reached its end. But before the final word, there is one more point to make. If you read carefully, you might have realized that some people live in castles completely miserable and yet others may live in very poor conditions but so happy. Money just can’t buy happiness. It is us who make the difference. It does not matter if the dream home takes few years to come by, or that temporarily we might even end up with social housing, what matters is that we, the “homeless”, take action to change our lives. My action, starting today, is to continue my D-book – yes, A…., that is really funny – which contains the lists of all my possessions I am planning to take with me when I finally move out of this house. I will also start living the life I will have, it does not matter that I am still in a difficult situation. I will start building my new life inside my old life and that alone is very meaningful way to make me stronger and more determined. I choose to start cleaning and making my current house organized and inviting, I am, after all, still living in it with my children. There is just no excuse for me to dwell on my own misery anymore. From now on, I will practice for my future life; so that when I finally open the door to my new home I know what to do and I know that everything from then on will be as it should. I also know that I won’t be crying anymore because my dream home will be filled with laughter.
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It seems fitting that since my house is finally just about to go for sale, I should go back in time to July 2012 when I wrote this essay to my lovely therapist. Her question was: What does word home mean to me? I happen to have brain that works amidst chaos – inside my brain is more like criss crossing multiline highways in New York rush hours. Therefore I am not always capable of verbally expressing myself in clear and concise manner. I figured that if I can extract the information from my brain to the paper in clear format it means that I have indeed contemplated and internalized the issue and examined it from all the relevant angles thus giving an answer that is true to my beliefs and spirit.
One evening over dinner, I began to joke, as I often had before, about writing an essay called “Men Explain Things to Me.” Every writer has a stable of ideas that never make it to the racetrack, and I’d been trotting this pony out recreationally every once in a while. My houseguest, the brilliant theorist and activist Marina Sitrin, insisted that I had to write it down because people like her younger sister Sam needed to read it. Young women needed to know that being belittled wasn’t the result of their own secret failings; it was the boring old gender wars. So lovely, immeasurably valuable Sam, this one always was for you in particular. It wanted to be written; it was restless for the racetrack; it galloped along once I sat down at the computer; and since Marina slept in later than me in those days, I served it for breakfast and sent it to Tom later that day.It was summer time and all the kids were off school. I was only 12-years old and that day I was in charge of looking after my little sister and cousins. They started playing with my fathers old concrete making machine and, at one point,I heard my sister screaming from inside the house. Two of her left hand fingers were caught in the machinery and were cut very badly.
My family is known for being afraid of blood. They freeze and almost faint when they see blood; especially my mother. Good thing she was not there at that moment because she would scream more than my sister.
As soon as I saw my sister’s hand, I got her inside the house. I cleaned her hand and ran to the cabinet where we had a few medications and got the iodine bottle and some compresses. I poured some iodine on her fingers and wrapped them very quickly.
The reaction to my sister’s accident was the first push for me towards medical school, but, at that moment, I did not put much thought into it.While I treasure the various worlds my mother has opened to me abroad, my life has been equally transformed by what she has shown me just two miles from my house. As a ten year old, I often accompanied my mother to (name deleted), a local soup kitchen and children’s center. While she attended meetings, I helped with the Summer Program by chasing children around the building and performing magic tricks. Having finally perfected the “floating paintbrush” trick, I began work as a full time volunteer with the five and six year old children last June. It is here that I met Jane Doe, an exceptionally strong girl with a vigor that is contagious. At the end of the summer, I decided to continue my work at (name deleted) as Jane’s tutor. Although the position is often difficult, the personal rewards are beyond articulation. In the seven years since I first walked through the doors of (name deleted), I have learned not only the idea of giving to others, but also of deriving from them a sense of spirit.