Okay, I've dwelt on a lot of bad stuff for too long. I am going to talk about good stuff now:

One of my recent purchases (with the JoAnn's "40% off anything" coupon) was Comforts of Home (d'oh, was calling it by the wrong name) by Erika Knight. Will I ever actually knit anything in this book? Doubtful. Did I had to have it? Of course.

(Although, if I had $160 to throw around, I'd probably buy the Chunky Cotton Chenille for the "Cuddle Coat." That's my favorite pattern in the whole book.)

There are certain books, especially pattern books or home-dec books, that I buy simply because I want them in my life. (For the same reason, I cut pictures of rooms or gardens I like out of my magazines before I throw them out and stick the pictures in scrapbooks). I find that after stressful days, or when my house is a mess and I don't think I have time to clean it up, or if everything around me seems to be falling apart, it helps to look at scenes of calmness and order.

I love the photography in "Simply Knit." It promotes a certain illusion - that your life is uncluttered enough that you have time to make these items, and you have a place to show them off. It contains shots of spare city interiors (rooms that, were I actually living in them, would drive me nuts). I've said before how I can be a sucker for a pattern section where all the knits are done in shades of cream and white, even though I tend to be more of a blue-green-purple wearing person myself.

For the same reason, I love the magazine "Real Simple." It allows me to pretend, for a few minutes every month, that I have the money and the gumption to do what the book suggests (although, frankly, most of the clothes are far more expensive that what I would/could pay, and the beauty and makeup rituals are far too involved for me - if it takes me more than 2 minutes to put on, forget it). I like looking at the organized closets and the neat little party getups and think "yup, someday when I'm a grown-up, that's how my life will be." Except that I'm a grown-up right now, and I can never seem to drag myself into the world of closet organization or dinner-party-planning.

I also love cookbooks. (I've toyed with the idea of starting a cooking blog called "butter the size of a walnut," which is an instruction in some old-time cooking books that always makes me laugh). I collect them, the shelf I bought for them is overflowing right now. I particularly like the older cookbooks, that say things like "cut up a chicken - or buy a chicken in parts if you have a shop in your town that sells them that way." Those little things that remind me that the world was not always as it is now, and that show me interesting and edifying little bits of how life was - imagine, a time when the only chickens available in the store were whole chickens! And even more, the book talks about how to burn off the pinfeathers! (thank goodness I live when I do - the thought of burning off pinfeathers is enough to put me off chicken forever).

I also love the pictures, in the books that have them. I have bought a number of the old "Farm Journal" cookbooks, partly because they are the ones my mother has and uses, but also partly because I love the pictures - almost-lurid yet oddly appetizing Technicolor shots of the roast, ringed with radish rosettes, or of a panoply of homemade candies, or of towers of donuts. (My favorite is the "County Fair" cookbook - filled with baked-good recipes that were all ribbon winners).

I often liven up my solo meals by reading a cookbook as I eat - after all, I keep them in my dining room (no room in the kitchen for them). I come to remember particular turns of phrase that certain authors use, or I mark recipes I want to try someday.

sometimes it's good to have illusions.