At home, in New Jersey

home is lots of places for me. they are the places where i'm most comfortable. i have a couple of them...

my mom's house, is complete with stepfather and little bro (gotta love that 6th grade attitude) and lots of antiques and Mackenzie-Childs and Stickley and of course, flamingos (they are usually named some variation on Philip). now i know we sound crazy, but it's kind of fun to have a theme of collectibles, as long as they aren't beanie babies or something. the house was built in 1906 and definitely showcases its history; it has some sort of granduer that i somewhat lack the writing skills to explain.

my dad's house is just his-- no one to share it with. i'm glad he updated his furniture in the past few years; he should have good stuff that he can enjoy and be comfortable in. though this is the first house i ever lived in, it is not the one that i've always considered home, since i was usually at my mom's house growing up, it wasn't always at the top of my list for comfort. however, i still have my own room at my dad's house (yeah, mom booted me out of my room when i moved to NYC-- i guess i'm ok with it now haha).

probably third would be my gramma's house since i spent most of my summers growing up there. don't get any ideas... it's not like she lived far away or anything. but there was always that acre of land to pretend to get lost in-- i could hide in my tree house or go swimming in the pool... with my local friends of course-- you know, those kids you met when you were 3 years old and are hopefully still friends.

now i live in NYC, and i do love it, but there's no place like the real home. some part of me still feels like i'm in a dorm room in NYC (maybe it's because of the size, haha). thankfully it's only a short train ride home... the REAL home.