Getting Comfortable

The self-portrait above was a response to a photo prompt.  

The funny thing is that it wasn't until I spent a considerable amount of time setting the self-timer on my camera placed at the end of the table and running back to my chair and posing, that I realized that I had missed the point entirely.

The context of the prompt was a seasonal one: to include a few details giving clues to autumn.  To make yourself comfortable, say on the couch or in an armchair, with a mug of tea and a bowl of popcorn.  Think about what texture and camera angles can convey...Now, popcorn may not be my quintessential autumnal snack, but no matter, it could be an apple, apple pie, a cider donut.

I seized on the get comfortable part and tried to be natural about it.  I log very little couch time, and never by day.  Occasionally, on a weekend, I grab an hour with a glass of wine and a book if Mr. Savory is cooking dinner.

But up there in that photo is me in my spot at the kitchen table.  I suppose it is where I am most comfortable, not necessarily physically, but creatively.  And while that capture was posed, it looks completely natural and familiar to me.  I habitually sit right there, with my Moleskine, clutching my coffee.

This prompt got me thinking about being comfortable.  Somehow, through culture or being a list-maker, I've taken to equating being comfortable with laziness or relaxation.  What you do in your down time.

But really, they are not the same thing.  Being comfortable can be making sure you are not hot or cold, hungry or thirsty to the point of distraction.  It can mean wearing clothes that make you feel confident or support your activity for the day, not tight or baggy, nor shoes that give you blisters.

It can mean preparing food that nourishes you in the season, and consuming enough but not so much that your stomach hurts.  

I think it's time for me to take a seat in my living room, on the couch or in that armchair we picked up by the curb and had new springs put in.  When it's daylight.  Thirty minutes to read or knit.

 A few years ago, Olivia and I took needlework outings, where we went to our local yarn store and sat upstairs in their comfy seating area.  I brought my knitting and she her needlepoint.  I commented one day to the shop owner how I never knit at home during the day, only on the couch in the evenings.  She understood and said, "I know, that guilty pleasure, right?"

Maybe October is my month to explore getting comfortable.  Tease apart the notion that it means I'm a slouch. I'll be back later, in a new pose, with my camera and a snack.