I live in a suburban house with three sons, a husband, and one emotionally needy French Bull dog.
Although I have come to truly embrace the philosophy that I don't have to decorate the inside of the house like an adult anymore, I still find myself bound by the code of certain conventions: roof, garage, heat, indoor plumbing, electricity, cable modem, and, most of all, operating inconspicuously within the confines of 21st century suburbia. That means getting kids to school, nagging about homework, and basically abiding by and teaching my kids to abide by, the social mores of mainstream society.
This is not an easy task for someone who is essentially very bohemian by nature.
I would have been very very happy to have just settled into an undeveloped loft thirty years ago and rattled around old warehouse space in NY. But, life took me the more conventional route about 25 years ago, and I manage to blend in. I make sure I manage to blend in because I also remember sadly a dear artist friend of mine whose two children were so unable to float between their very eccentric artist/bohemian lifestyle and the traditional society they lived in, that they both suffered nervous breakdowns. With that in mind, I keep my flakey house wild on the inside and understated on the outside, so that my kids can feel "normal" while still learning that everything is not always what meets the eye, and that creativity and independence are to be held in high esteem, even if somewhat tempered.
And then comes a story that makes my bohemian hippie mouth water--well, a little anyway. In today's House and Home section of the New York Times comes an article about a couple for whom art and love reigned supreme. Granted, I would never aspire to disrupting my happy family to follow an artistic quest, but I would not mind creating an abode in a similar fashion, although I would insist on indoor plumbing and cable modem.....
Check out "A Handmade Home." There is a wonderful slideshow of the homestead.
On a somewhat related note, and in keeping with my obsession about how quickly time is passing, comes an article about slowing down. If only I could actually do that--SLOW DOWN, I mean--and manage to get kids where they need to be on time. In the meantime. I can read about it. Check out "The Slow Life Picks Up SPeed.", also in today's NY Times. DO in NOW! Oops. I mean do it at an easy pace.