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In our cold, plastic filled world of technology, I surround myself with things of beauty, large, tea carts, and small, paper art, to remind myself of a time when things were not designed to look like a race car. This is one of the reasons why I love Steampunk so much. Would you like to sit down before a computer monitor and key board made with accents of brass and marble? I would. Would you like to type on keys from a Royal type writer instead of these square things, whose faces, on my keyboard at least, are fading? I would. Sometimes I write with a pen that I dip repeatedly into a tiny ink well. Scritch, scratch, dip. I imagine I’m sitting i n my parlor at my writing desk in my beautiful gauzy summer dress while I’m scratching away, occasionally pausing to sip tea from a thin china cup. If I had the resources, I’d hire a seamstress, I don’t sew, and have a wardrobe of fine Victorian and Edwardian outfits to wear. I wouldn’t care if people thought I was eccentric and odd. Maybe they are for not dressing this way. I’d dine by candle light every night being served by staff in white gloves. When it was time to go to bed, I’d dress in the softest white linen gown wrapped in a silk robe of green upon which would be embroidered gold peonies.
Okay, time to stop dreaming and head off to church. My family is coming over for Father’s Day this afternoon for a bbq.
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