Among the traits I inherited from my mother is a fervor for making a home look lovely. Most of the fun is the arranging of the particular house that is yours - any fellow house-arranging aficionado will say the same - but I have learned from my mother also to appreciate the insides of other people's houses. There are a great many ways to find access to house-insides (and I employ almost all of the legal ones), but I particularly like opening my mailbox, finding a new magazine inside and feeling gleeful certainty that the pages will be full of pictures of other people's homes. Do you not know the feeling? You are living only half a life!
My mother and I both subscribe to Country Living (even though neither of us has ever lived in the country) and we like to trade notes over each new issue. A few months ago we had the same favorite article, about the home of a shop-owner in Minneapolis, and it was such a pretty home that we were both curious about the shop. I'm used to reading about interesting places that I will likely never see, but since Mark's grandparents live in Minneapolis, seeing this one seemed possible. I made a resolution to look it up when we visited next. I will freely admit that I am not very good at keeping to resolutions, but this one stuck.
We stopped in Minneapolis on Friday on the way to a wedding. I looked up the directions to the shop and Mark committed them to memory, and it turned out to be a short drive from where his grandparents live to the store that is famous in song and legend, sort of. For as long as I'd been thinking about the store and planning to visit, it felt legendary.
The shop was full of beautiful things that no one really needs - you know the kind. We browsed a while among the white bowls and mugs and cups laid out on worn wood shelves. Hardly anyone really lives surrounded by these things, but I wouldn't mind trying it. Mark and I conferred and although we didn't really need anything we saw there, it seemed a shame not to get something. I chose two handmade wooden spoons that are as pretty as they will be fun to use.
As we were leaving I saw the woman who owns the store, standing on the sidewalk outside, talking to someone who had been walking by. I only recognized her from the picture in the magazine. I did think of striking up a conversation, but it didn't seem fair, given that I knew a lot about her and she knows nothing about me. I've even seen pictures of her home.
"Excuse me," (I didn't say), "I just came out of the store. I'm here because I've been plotting to visit for months. I wanted to buy everything there but that would be impossible, so I settled for a couple of spoons. Every time I use them I'll think of the time I was here.
"Also, your home is just hopelessly lovely. Can I visit sometime?"
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