Usually I take the homes tour a little more seriously. I grab a friend and a latte and make the most of it. This time I could barely walk and my only concern was making it all the way through the tour before I had to go to the bathroom. It was also the last year Gideon was free so I opted to let all the children come with me. Because, as you know, that only makes it more fun.
This picture brings to mind one of my favorite quotes from Blandings, regarding “Doris Mapleton’s titanic, snail-paced rump.” Move along Betsy.
By the end of the tour the children had grown rather ill of being told how good and perfect they were. And the boys had to field so many hat compliments I doubt they will wear them again. That’s what happens when you take five children on a tour populated solely by older women. And me. The crazy pregnant lady dragging five kids through other people’s houses saying, “Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.” And then look at that, they touch something. I don’t believe it.
I don’t remember much about the houses this year. Other than that they were all ugly. Nothing terrible, they were just all decorated like furniture displays from say 15 years back. Some kind of traditional flavored mauve and tan ugly that normal people must like. Occasionally interspersed with an honest to goodness console TV or Navajo print sofa. Just to shake things up.
P.S. The above picture is well worth zooming in on.
There were only two houses I would have enjoyed living in. This was one of them. A brick cottage was with barrel vaulted halls, a sunken living room, and wood paneled basement office complete with walk-in safe. We could have fun together.
This house was remodeled recently by some well meaning geriatrics. It wafts a little of very expensive nursing home. But don’t tell them I said anything.
This was a nice little house. A bit crammed, but very cute. There was an open stair in the entry, dominated by a somewhat overwhelming 5′ portrait of a lady with Princess Di hair, who I assume to be the wife and mother. She was wearing a silk chemise with her arms around her toddlers, both dressed as cherubs. The whole business was flanked by Corinthian columns, bedecked in roses, and bathed in some heated ambient glow. The nifty part was that as you ascended the stairs you were drawn closer and closer to missus’ upper thigh, which was entirely revealed as she sat there legs crossed, except for the little bit she was perched on. Going down the stairs wasn’t so bad. But going up provided a whole different perspective.
I don’t remember much about either of these houses. I think one of them had a beautiful long galley kitchen entirely of white bead board, including the cabinets. But it didn’t take long before I remembered how hard bead board is to clean and so I stopped coveting.
This last house was a house I have always been drawn to. So it was fun to be able to finally go inside and affirm that I could happily live there. It used to be a run-down white house that I envisioned as the perfect home for the perfect family. Then someone bought it and spray painted it beige. Why does everyone have to do that? It’s still cute, but for some reason there is so much more charm in an all-white house. In the front there is the living room one side and a sunny dining room on the other. There are two small bedrooms in the back, with a square hall in the very center of the house. Along one side is a kitchen with a rear sun porch. What is fun is that the attic is finished out to the eaves into one giant open space. So much more fun than bedrooms. You can just keep having babies and throwing them up there. No one would ever know.