Mi Casa es Mi Casa

It’s not how the phrase usually goes, but I think it’s fitting. Sometime in December after Christmas in Arkansas, I realized my home in San Antonio felt like my home. Mi casa es mi casa.

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Recently I got to fangirl out by writing a post on San Antonio for Apartment Therapy. (Being that I’m a major AT and Alamo City fan).

My post was all about what to do out and about in San Antonio. Exterior, events, eats. Lot’s of things that start with E’s.

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But as much time as I spend in the city or by the river, there is a place I lay my head at night – feed my cat – take showers. En mi casa.

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Thoughts of Texas may not conjure up images of converted warehouse loft living quite the way Brooklyn does. It’s not something you can really find in Austin even if you have the dollar to get it. But in San Antonio, there are several loft type living spaces throughout the former (and in some ways current – as the train headed to Pioneer Mills reminds us quite often) industrial areas of town. Not that I even notice the trains anymore.

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Living in the Blue Star Arts Complex does come with other perks beyond the free alarm clock trains. As a non-driving Texan/San Antonian, I rely on a good Walkscore to buy groceries, get to school, go to meetings, get to farm camp, live life, etc.

A “walkscore” isn’t as literal as it sounds. Bikeability and public transportation are also factored into the formula along with walk-ability. To quote the results for my address at Blue Star, terrain is “Flat as a pancake, excellent bike lanes.” With two B-Cycle stations in my complex alone, it’s an ideal spot to hang up those car keys and never look back. (You just might be Ubering or hitchhiking to leave town).

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For the longest time, most of our visitors found the downstairs spooky. After all there is a bit of grunge around the edges that makes you wonder if the ghost of a bygone meat-packer is lurking in the shadows, confused to see people living in what once was essentially a storage unit.

However, we’ve stayed spooky-ghost free so far, even going so far as to make the alleged-by-our-guests to be haunted downstairs a “zen” yoga and relaxation space.

Namaste Casper.

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When I’m not using the downstairs space to run laps around the stairs or up and down the stairs, it serves as my spot in the loft to have privacy while drawing or sketching.

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For a home with only two (folding) chairs and no sofa, it fills out pretty nicely. Maybe if we stop traveling for a while some real chairs can join the familia.

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Because estoy en casa en San Antonio.

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