12.26.2007

Roasting Mother

Anytime the family gathers together we take a sweet delight in recounting the endless craziness that which is called 'Mother'...Our own personal Uber Blonde.


My Mother has a studio in the house. My Father wanted to build one for her but she decided the little guest room in the corner with the atrium windows would be perfect and no need to go the extra expense plus she like the deer that roam on that side of the house.


Imagine a lovely never used guest room with silk covers on the bed, long flowing shantung drapes, vintage pillows, a small satin chaise for sitting and a beautiful woven
rug...


Now imagine the apocalypse and this lovely guest room was ground zero!!

Old photos, books, magazines and newspapers cover the entire 400 sq ft room, no rug in sight accept for underneath the window where bird seed and deer food have been grounded into the rug and beginning to sprout plants.

The paintings all hang crooked on the wall to make room for leaning canvases. The furniture has been shoved against the wall, the satin linens have been replaced with a army of feather comfoters and pillows layered like the princess in the pea..must be to protect my Mother from a posssible air raid. A crater has been dug out from the debris on the floor to make room for her to stand as she paints still lifes of rocks..

Yes, I did say rocks!!

We know about the secret refrigerator in the room because of the trail of crumbs that cannot be vacuumed off of piles of books and drawing paper.

The maid refuses to go in afraid she might never find her way out.

The Father usually just pokes his head in from the safety of the hall way and always has the same expression and shaking of his head when he looks in the room.

Dad, "When are you going to clean this room?"

Mom, "What? I have been cleaning ..don't you see the carpet in that corner?"

Dad, "Where?"

Mom, "Well, if you can't see how hard I cleaned..just go...Im always cleaning this room..you just don't see it"

Dad, "I would see it if it were clean" Shakes his head and walks away.


My Mother's mess is like the plague..if you don't contain it..it slowly begins to drift into other parts of the house and even the car where one can find cheese, apples and bananas rotting under the seat.

We are fairly certain that if my Father dies before our Mother...we will have to put her down otherwise she will make headlines in the paper as social services takes her from the house.

"Woman found after weeks of Digging!!"


Blondes love their Mom's unconditionally because no one else would!!

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