- Mother's Day was coming up, but Mom had plans that weekend - her first big "away" ride since breaking her leg. Hey, it's her holiday - if that's how she wants to spend it, more power to her!
- Mom thought it would be fun to have a Derby party in conjunction with opening up their pool for the season. (Note to self: Next time Mom invites me to a "pool party", ask for clarification. Unfortunately, her idea of a pool party was to have me spend 4 hours cleaning 9 months of sludge out of the pool.
Small price to pay I guess...)
You can tell a lot about a person by the decor of their house. Take needle art for example. You know, cross stitch, crochet, needlepoint stylishly framed and displayed. I don't know if it's just a southern thing, but I have never met a respectable woman without at least one piece of needle art somewhere in her house. My mother in law has a particularly nice one that says:
"Happiness is catching.
We get it from one another."
I like that.
Mom of course has this gem:
"Slow calm work over low fences
will help you reach new heights in jumping."
And then there is Mom's best non-horsey friend, Miss Impeccable. OK, that's not her real name but it sure does fit. Miss Impeccable is just that - always dressed to the nines, never a hair out of place. Manicured, pedicured, buffed and polished - I seriously doubt if she has ever been dirty in her life. A four-time divorcee, she has this one in her kitchen:
"Eat, Drink, and Re-Marry!"
Cute, and very fitting. Anyhoo, once again I have gone completely off my own topic.
Miss Impeccable had just recently moved into a new house not far from Mom & Dad's, so on Sunday morning after the Derby she invited Mom and I over for a late breakfast and the obligatory new-house-tour. I did of course anticipate a perfectly decorated and utterly impeccable dwelling. What I did not anticipate was the insane jealously I would soon feel regarding one aspect of said dwelling. I'm not a jealous person by nature so this took me completely by surprise - it's taken me over a week to get over myself enough to write this post!
Ever the proud hostess, the tour began immediately with the lovely high-ceilinged foyer, on into the formal dining and living rooms, to the more casual great room, master suite, then on upstairs to the office and guest bedroom. We finished in the large kitchen complete with breakfast nook and French doors leading onto a bricked patio. Miss Impeccable busied herself preparing her signature western omelettes, and we all spent a bit of time catching up. It was then that I noticed a door slightly ajar leading off the kitchen.
"What's back there?" I asked.
"Oh that. That's just the mud room. Go on, take a peak. It's nothing special."
Mud room? She has a mud room? I opened the door and stepped into a large enclosure and was blinded by whiteness. The walls were white. The floors were white tile. White curtains. Hanging on a white coat rack was a perfectly white raincoat. Arranged on low white shelves were some garden clogs (sans any speck of mud), a few pairs of sneakers, and a white pair of rain boots - also spotless.
Imagine a room whose sole intention is to be a place to discard muddy and soiled clothing prior to entering the house, and here was one that was - well, impeccable. I thought briefly about the pile of smelly jackets and mud caked boots that occupy one small corner of my kitchen.
Just what the heck is this lady doing with a mud room???
OK. Maybe I'm not quite over it yet.