Literally just around the corner from my daughter's home is an elite row of model homes for a new development bordering an impressive Oahu golf course. Today I sauntered over there, and while not actually misrepresenting myself, spoke casually to the young real estate agent about possible investment, rental opportunities, second home, and toured half of the homes on display.
By Hawaii standards, very large and spacious room, nine foot ceilings, kitchens with things I wouldn't even have thought of, Roman walk-in showers, walk-in closets that are bigger than my bedroom back home. And, of course since these are unoccupied model homes, perfect linens, clear counters, carefully selected books and magazines, color-coordinated everything.
I am the ultimate peeping tom. I have never once walked past a window without looking inside, and I excuse my form of voyeurism, if you can label it such, as an intense interest in decorating and home building. Yeah, right.
So places like this are perfect to wander through, noting what the designer did with window treatments (I just love that expression - like they are going through physical therapy or something) and what the heck a Roman shower actually is (walk-in with no curtain or door - it does seem decadent since it's all colorful mosaic tile and about 100 square feet). I have fallen in love with ceramic cook tops (no steel brackets or posts - just clear counter until you begin to cook with it), and every home had a microwave built in looking just like a second oven. And the refrigerators! Covered with the same carpentry as the cabinets, they blend in perfectly.
Then I went back to Harmony's.
And you know what?
I completely LOVE walking back into counting books spread out all over the hallway, Little People teamed up with medieval soldiers to play baseball (rule completely interchangeable with tennis and bowling), scattered Legos from Colin building his latest version of Transformers ("Grandma, you can't play Transformers, only Kelly and I can play Transformers"), Kate scribbling on two MagnaDoodles at the same time with three Sippy Cups at her feet.
And no, this isn't what Harmony's house ever looks like, and she will KILL me for this description - this is what the house looks like when she leaves ME in charge.
But I love it. It has my daughter and her family, and any mess is created by my incredible grandchildren.
And I like my manufactured house back home, with enough carpet stains from numerous dogs, cats, illness, and bleeding to make doubtful the original color - with dust accumulations to be measured in feet, not inches - with furniture that has traveled from Europe to Hawaii to the East Coast to Arizona... and was second or third-hand when we got it.
She wants her planet back. Woolfy – “Shooting Stars” Funny how his voice in
this song made me think he was singing ratchet instead of rapture. I heard
this...
2 comments:
Here's the deal. WE get you a house and just visit the "messy house" as we'll call it when we want to (maybe late at night when I can clean it up)
Oh, I must have left my 3/4 of a million dollars in my other pants. Dammit.
Enjoyed your comments. Home sweet home!
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