Living in Pier One

Yesterday I did something I try not to do. Ever.

I entered the doors of Pier One.

What can I say? It was a football day (see last posting). And I'd had a less-than-productive week, one in a sequence of less-than-productive weeks, stretching back, oh, well, let's see, Owen's 19 1/2 years old, so that would be 19.5 x 52--gah! advanced math--let's make it 20 x 52--so, ok, stretching back about 1040 weeks. Thus I was feeling a tad bummed. And I was looking for Halloween ornaments. And where else does one go for Halloween ornaments other than Pier One?

I suppose the Halloween ornaments might need explanation. It's my friend Karen's fault. She bought me this beautiful metal table-top tree. And in one of those rare but evidently inevitable Martha Stewart moments, I thought, "Oh, wouldn't it be fun to decorate my metal tree for various holidays?" Back when I was sane, that moment would have vanished almost immediately as I moved on to do important things. But it's been a long time since I've done anything important and even longer since I was sane, and so Saturday found me Halloween ornament shopping at Pier One.

I found several, bought a few, bought lots of other stuff, too. . . had a delightful time. Left with great regret. See, here's the problem: I want to live in Pier One. I want to live the Pier One life. I want to change my dishes every season; I want wine glasses of every possible permutation; I want to dress in brightly colored Indian cottons and drift about my fully equipped, trendily furnished, patio-deck-back yard, glimmering with torch lights and seasonally colored little candles, while beautiful guests, accessorized with playfully themed cocktail glasses and party plates, mingle and reassemble in ever-changing, casual yet graceful groupings.Witty intellectual interchange abounds. We are Happy Multi-Cultural People. Partiers with a Purpose. We live the High Life, yet it is a Deep Life.

So, a couple of overpriced glass bats and skulls now hang from my metal tree. I drank my morning coffee from a new mug, my evening wine from a new glass. The High Deep Life eludes me. I'm thinking, maybe I should try Pottery Barn?