green with envy

In the midst of a normal day of errands (sprinted, because it's so *%$#*! cold outside!) I had this invitation to an open house--a book club friend who must have a rotating holiday open house between her house and the homes of two neighbors. There were piles to be cleaned up, laundry, the plumber coming early the next morning, children to situate after school, a babysitter to brief, and a hot date with Mr. D and Toys R Us, but I thought, what the hell? My friend has missed the last couple book club meetings and it seemed like a good thing to do--besides, the party started at 2 and if I showed up right away I could stay for 40 minutes before driving back to retrieve my kids. After cleaning a bathroom, I changed from sweats to jeans, put a sweater over my turtleneck and combed my hair.

Walking up to the house, I recognized it as one I'd admired on a couple of drives through the neighborhood. A sign at the door said "Please come in" (appreciated in this frigid weather) so I let myself in the foyer and took off my snow boots. In my stocking feet, I gaped.

The house was exactly like stepping into a magazine house. Provincial French decor just laden with fresh greens--boughs up the staircase, boughs on every surface. I counted 3 Christmas trees total in the house. Oranges, pinecones, nuts, berries and even artichokes were nestled in among the fresh cut boughs. I guess the hostess had spent at least $500 on Christmas greenery--and in a conversation later I learned she'd done it all herself. It was gorgeous. No cheap plastic decorations for this house--it was all the real deal and artistically inspired. I never envy another person's decorations--even if I admire it, I never want it for my own house. Until yesterday afternoon. I coveted her greenery--all natural and fragrant and lush. Lusted after her tall glass jars filled with berries and pinecones. Yearned for a "just so" house unlittered by legos and action figures, accessorized by nature's bounty.

not the actual house--but a good representation

My friend greeted me with her trademark enthusiasm and I was met further in the house with the offer of a chocolate martini garnished with a fresh raspberry. There was a huge pitcher full of divine chocolate martinis--and a grand selection of wine and beer to boot. Christmas music wafted through speakers and silver trays held an abundance of cookies and dip, crackers and cheeses.

I was tacky enough in my jeans and socks--I was NOT taking out my camera in this woman's house--even though it was blogworthy beyond compare! But this give a good idea...

There I stood in my stocking feet agog at the lavish presentation and realizing that I stood in the midst of the Ladies Who Lunch crowd. Everyone wore high heels and make up and I was the only person wearing jeans. Get out much? I asked myself. But this crowd of ladies decked out in their holiday finery was gracious and hospitable and fascinating to chat up. Two looked frighteningly familiar--but we could not place one another's face. Spinning class? Not so much, sorry. First United Methodist Church? Nope, that's not it. Do your kids to go ANHS? Nope, mine are much younger--over at Happyland Elementary.

Forty minutes later I returned to my real life, in snow boots and slightly dented Momvan. But the warm glow of a chocolate martini and that dazzling house carried me along. Someday I might do it up right--have a fully lit tree (half our lights recently burnt out--there's a gaping hole of darkness in the middle) with a tree topper (Mr. B broke ours before we finished trimming it). Someday I might have a house neat as a pin, unmarred by the slovenly habits of my children. Someday I might set out things made of glass, breakable objects. But I'm not discontented. I'm inspired.

Posted in: contentment, history of a tree hugger