The Quest for Thinking Space

Manager Mom put together this office open house multiblogstravaganza group post in which she has asked us to create a post answering the question, "What you consider your office:  the place you get work done, or your best thinking space."  Here it is...  

Writing, and even more specifically blogging is my own private little world away from housework, screaming, trees falling, and whatever other unsavory little stressors life presents.  No one in my real world knows any MereCatherine.  The name on your kind blogrolls would call out no significance to my fleshed out fans. For my real life friends and family to read my writing would simply murder my muse in cold blood.  Alone with you is where I do my best work.  

But finding workspace, thinking space, or time for a shower is an eternal quest for a mom of sixteen-month-old twins.  Sometimes during nap time, I can snag a few minutes to grab a lemonade, a half sandwich and my computer, root in the exact middle of the couch where the cushions meet, and race against time.  But most of the time I'm capturing little moments here and there.  Picture me in my Tillamook Cheese t-shirt where I made my husband stop on our honeymoon to Oregon and the most comfortable cutoff sweatshorts I can find.  Tic tacking away at the computer perched on the changing table, I glance furtively about to be sure no one has pulled any furniture over or poked out any eyes. 

While not the most physically comfortable work space, my grandmother's red velvet settee that now anchors my own living room is probably the most inspirational.  It's on the sunnier side of the house where you can see the street, the neighbors, and the hawks.  The room is comfortably formal, and mostly uncluttered unlike the rest of the house.  As I curl up on that old, worn out period piece, I am curling up in my grandmother's house on a hot summer day, with her air conditioner set at sixty three degrees as always.  I can smell the safety and feel the reassurance that she gave me as a child. With her, I knew I was ok no matter who I was. 

I can write anywhere anytime; bars, "Open Houses," the third seat of the car winding up the mountains, many an airplane jumpseat, countless hotels.  But there's nothing quite like having a special place.  When I can be in that special place to write, it's been a good day.  When I can't, I write wherever I am.