Other people's houses

The latest Southern Living arrived a few days ago, an event I always look forward to. I generally thumb right to the recipes--they have some wonderful ideas, and I've cut out and saved lots of recipes in my appalling collection. But this time I looked at some of the houses--a summer cottage that someone enlarged and turned into a permanent home on retirement, an indoor/outdoor dining space added on to an existing structure. I drooled over these picture-perfect settings, barely able evene to imagine myself owning such gorgeous property and living in it.
Then today I went for a tour of the two-bedroom 1920 house, carefuly redone, that a friend of my daughter's has just bought, and I drooled again. A perfectly landscaped backyard with an outdoor bar and no grass--rocks and flagstone. Built in sub-zero refrigerator, built-in gas stove, lovely granite counters, a butler's pantry, and even a fireplace at eye level in the master bedroom (if you were lying in the bed). Final touch, for me, was lovely roofed porch. While I was happy for the new owner, I felt a pang of envy and wondered if I would have fallen in love with the house and bought it--which is what she said happ ned to her. But I came home to my comfortable red brick, with its welcoming porch, and was glad to be here.
Truth is that I'd like to live near water and I don't--not for water sports but to sit and stare at it. And another part of me would love to live in Santa Fe. But I live in Texas, which right now is damned hot, but I love it. My house is comfortable--folks usually rave about it when they come in, though to me it's time for a thorough redo that I can't afford. But it has a good kitchen--not counting the fact that I can't have a gas stove. It has plenty of space for kids and grandkids, and it has a grand front porch on which I entertain--though not this summer with our never-ending heat wave.
I don't really want to move by a big body of water, even in the cool North though that's tempting, and I don't really want to live in Santa Fe. My children and grandchildren are in Texas, and in Fort Worth I have a great network of friends. I used to think about moving to Santa Fe, but I knew deep down I'd be lonely and bored. In Texas I have connections I've built over forty-five years. You don't walk away from such a life easily--or at least I don't. I don't have that much adventure in my soul.
Maybe other people's houses always look better to us, and we should--brace for a cliche--learn to bloom where we're planted.

Tree Trimming

Tonight was my annual no-tree tree trimming party. Above you see my Christmas tree (it had a bow on it but Jordan took it back home) and the mantel--that's the kind of decorating I do these days. For years when the children were growing up, we had large and grand Christmas trees, but I always had a party to decorate them. I remember decorating the tree when I was a child was not festive at all, so I decided to turn it into a party. I'd put out all the ornaments and by the end of the evening, the tree was pretty well decorated. Of course, there was the year the tree fell over . . . . These days I'm never at home for Christmas--at one child's house or another--so I don't have a tree, although I put up all the other decorations, and the house looks festive. And I still have the party. This year I changed my routine, had it on Saturday instead of Sunday, and early rather than late. A true cocktail hour party at 5 p.m. About half the invited people couldn't come for one reason or another--illness, other obligations, etc. So there were maybe 35 people, but they ate almost all the food, so it's a good thing the others didn't come. Jacob came in shy, got his self confidence back and raced around the house, charming everyone, and then within two minutes turned sour and tired.
I have a pretty standard menu--every year I fix a caviar spread that I adore and the cheeseball that I remember from my childhood, and then I branch out from there. This year I had a refried bean and cheese dip (forgot to add the Tabasco but no one seemed to mind), a spinach-artichoke-cheese dip, crab and chili sauce on a block of cream cheese, and sausage balls. I have very few leftovers, though I'm glad there's some caviar and cream cheese for lunch tomorrow. For the sweet tooths, I had chocolate squares (all the ingredients of chocolate chip cookies, just put together in an entirely different manner), peanut butter cookies, and a chocolate Bundt cake that is a favorite. Jordan is having a ladies party next week and went home with lots of leftovers, including cookies and cake.
But I am tired tonight. I spent the morning cleaning house--something I rarely do myself. It wears me out and tears up my back, so that I have to sit every once in a while. Jordan came about four, helped me put things out, and did a major portion of the clean-up afterwards, with Christian's help. There are still about three dishes soaking, but I think I'll leave them overnight--something I almost never do. But I'm tired after two big events in two nights, and I'm fighting this cold. I think I've been staving it off by sheer will power all week. I decided I might collapse tomorrow, but then thought that was a bad attitude. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep.
Oh, and the washing machine quit today. With a wet rug in it. I opened the back door to wring it out (which I couldn't--it was a shag bathroom rug and too heavy to wring), and the dog ran in, the cat ran out, and I had a mess on my hands. The repairman is due Tuesday--I am so tired of servicemen who are to appear between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m.
I'm reading a manuscript, a memoir really but structured around the houses the writer has lived in. Since I'm a real house person, the idea fascinates me. I know I am defined by my house--built in 1922, decorated as my mother would have done (no decorator for me, although a good friend did the original planning), filled with old furniture and things I love but not, I hope, overcrowded.