My husband and I are in that final “nesting” period before the baby comes. OK, maybe it’s just me, because his desk is a mess, and clearly no nesting is happening in that corner of our living room. (I told him he had to tidy it before the baby saw it, because the baby would not be impressed.)
As part of this nesting, we’ve cleaned out our closets and filled bags for donation. Because these bags have been known to sit around our house or in our car for unnecessarily long periods of time, I insisted that we drop them in a clothing collection bin ASAP.
There used to be one in our neighborhood, but it strangely disappeared several months ago. So, now the only one I know of is on Cold Spring Lane. My husband thought that was too far out of the way from last evening’s errands, so instead we cruised the parking lots between Charles Village and our place in Bolton Hill, hoping to find a bin.
Which means that despite my ardent desire to donate these clothes, they’re sitting in my living room.
Thankfully, I’ve discovered that Planet Aid, a nonprofit that collects shoes and clothes, has a bin finder at planetaid.org, and there are several bins much closer than I thought. Find the nearest bin to you by typing in your ZIP code.
Much easier than driving around North Avenue playing spot the yellow box.
September 30, 2013 04:19
By Maria Wiering
There’s one amenity in our new Bolton Hill apartment that will mean a big change for our life as a couple after we move next month.
It’s not the 11-foot ceilings, the abundance of natural light or the wood-burning fireplace, although they are big perks.
It’s having an actual bedroom.
My husband and I spent the first 17 months of our marriage living in a 380-square-foot studio apartment, most of which was a really nice, but really oversized bathroom. The rest of it, with the exception of a closet-turned-kitchen, was a single room. In this room we ate, slept, read, fixed our bikes, and brewed beer. My husband, who is a graduate student, also used our room as a library and an office.
Our tiny space didn’t keep us from entertaining or hosting guests. My parents even stayed with us for a week. (Some, when warned about our apartment, did splurge for the hotel.) I think most people thought our challenge would be finding a place for all of our things, which we easily solved by trying not to acquire a lot of stuff.
The actual challenge was living with someone else in a single room, where you have no space of your own, and every activity you do affects the other person. There were times that this caused conflict, like when I wanted to sleep and my husband wanted to watch a late night Law & Order. Or when he wanted to read and I wanted to listen to music. It’s not unusual for me to sit on the steps outside or hole up in the bathroom for marathon phone conversations with my mom or sister.
When we first got married, “me time” was really important to me, and the arrangement was entirely frustrating. Over time, however, I realized it was an opportunity. Because of our small space, my husband and I do nearly everything together when we’re at home. We cook and clean together. We watch the news together. We read together. We listen to the same weekend radio shows. We typically get up and go to bed at the same time, for the practical complication of turning lights on and off. If we disagree on something, we have to figure it out then and there, because there’s no place to stomp off to.
In 2007, a quartet of Penn State sociology professors penned “Alone Together: How Marriage in America is Changing.” They showed that spouses across the country are spending less time with one another – they eat alone, share fewer friends and do housework solo. According to their research, marital interaction has been on the decline since 1980 – the year before my own parents married. Couples are less likely almost always to visit friends, shop, eat the main meal of the day, or go out for leisure time together. The lives of married people had become more separate, which the authors said could erode future marriage happiness and stability.
Living in small quarters has taught us patience, perseverance and mindfulness of the other’s needs. There is no way for us to live passively with one another, working or relaxing in separate parts of a house.
When we signed the lease for a one-bedroom in Baltimore, I was excited about having another room – a place where I can read if he’s watching golf, or a place for him to study if I want to paint. A place that lets us do things separately. A lot of good will come from that, but I think the companionship our little place in D.C. fostered in our marriage was a great blessing, and one we shouldn’t be in such a hurry to move past.
May 22, 2012 12:12
By Maria Wiering
I am a farmer’s daughter who is nearing the point where half of my life will have been spent living in a city. I moved from southwest Minnesota to St. Paul for college, and I worked in the Twin Cities for several years before relocating to Washington, D.C. Now I’m making a home in Baltimore, and my visits to my rural hometown are few and far between.
In mid May, my husband and I were in Minneapolis for his sister’s wedding, and I had the chance talk up our new adopted home and urge family members to visit. After living amid – and participating in – the transient social culture prevalent in Washington, D.C., Baltimore is a refreshing switch, where people’s roots run deep and strong in their community, as demonstrated by Baltimoreans’ hearty school pride, parish involvement and appreciation of the region’s role in shaping a once amorphous America.
Despite my own mobile life, or perhaps because of it, commitment to a place is a great virtue in my book, and it is evident as I meet people while on assignment that native Baltimoreans are committed to this city that raised and formed them.
I realize that I am an outsider in a city where most are insiders, and that provides both challenge and opportunity. With this blog – named with a nod to the city’s moniker – I intend to share the experiences, people and places that strike me about this new city and the whole of the Archdiocese of Baltimore, which, lucky for this native of the American plains, stretches from the mountains to the shore.
It is my hope that rather than a monologue, “Charmed” can be a place for conversation about the value of place, family and living life as it is meant to be lived. I implore readers to share their knowledge, insights and enthusiasm for all things local in the com boxes as I navigate this fledgling blog’s direction.
May 21, 2012 10:24
By Maria Wiering