Tiny House – Lots of People!

I grew up in a tiny house that was always filled with people.

I mean not an extreme tiny house where you build your home inside an old bus or a chimney or trash bin, but a home with small rooms and a kitchen – wait for it – without an island (gasp!).

So, not actually tiny by today’s global or HGTV standards, but with one bathroom and small enough you could always hear who was up and who was talking. I spent many nights with my ear on the vent listening to kitchen conversations. This is how I learned everything.

It was intimate.

Since then, I have owned a few houses big enough to fit about two of the tiny houses I grew up in. Monster houses with five to seven bedrooms, and with a bathroom just for folks using the pool (I really could have used that pool growing up).

I wore these houses like the Talbots sweater sets I tried to wear in my first McMansion Connecticut home.

I rocked them. And don’t get me wrong – I created stuff and decorated them in such a way that bohemia found its way to Connecticut.

But these big houses never really fit me and I often felt overwhelmed in keeping it all together, even with a house cleaner.

I have just moved into my new house and it is tiny in all the right ways.

It may not have a gourmet kitchen (whatever that means), but it has a kitchen set up for me. My husband/editor and I cook together in it, and somehow when we are in close proximity doing so, shifting and negotiating space with one another, it just feels right.

I knew everything would be okay when I entertained the first time Christmas Eve. We were not yet fully moved in, but that night is special to us and we needed to bless the home in a beautiful way. So, we invited over 25 or so of our favorites and we didn’t even use outside space and I actually loved it.

The month prior, for Thanksgiving, some of the favorites hosted. They have a large and lovely condo but decided it was too small for the dozen or so of us, so we had our gathering in a common space.

But here I am, stuffing twice as many people into half the space and thinking it will all just work out fine. And it did.

It was delightful. My home was wonderfully blessed that night.

“Squish over and make room for me” is actually the perfect conversation starter.

My hospitality is radical. It is scruffy. And it is rare.

It is the same hospitality you would find in the tiny home I grew up in. My childhood home was always open to and frequented by colorful characters dropping in.

It wasn’t like my mom was the perfect hostess who would serve you and make sure your every need was met. Oh god no. That was not Joann Mangiacotti.

Joann was more like a get it yourself woman. However, you never felt like she didn’t want you there. There is something magical in that.

This scruffy Mangiacotti hospitality I speak of is the kind where if you stop by I am super happy to see you, but I may continue to fold laundry while we talk.

Yes of course you are welcome to stay, we will give you space and you are welcome to roll with us, because we will be rolling.

There is a flow to this hospitality.

I like it because when you don’t go super out of your way to entertain, you are not freaking out – so your guests, following your need, they also are not freaking out. People like helping, and usually they are happy to participate in some kind of food prep – at least the people I tend to invite into home.

Jump in and be part of the family.

You will never feel unwelcome. Is there anything more we crave in this world?

So, I have returned to my roots and I am in love with my home. It feels just right when my family is rolling along, doing our things, and we can glance over and see each other, call out a random question without yelling or walking into the other room. We’re just basking in the glow of closeness.

I dig it. It is mine.