“Is this your dream house?” my daughter asked as we floated around in the pool.
“It’s pretty awesome. There’s a lot of houses I could happily live in, so dream house is hard to say. I love this yard and pool, and the porch. Oh my gosh, did you see the porch?”
Just a few days before, I found myself looking at new homes and developing a serious case of water closet envy. That’s a fancy name for toilet room with a door that shuts. It may or may not have enough space for a magazine rack on the wall or a small reading library like I would want.
Recently, I started a subscription to Reader’s Digest and often find myself so caught up in the stories that I forget I’m not on a comfy couch in the living room, but on a porcelain seat in the middle of the bathroom. That was probably too much over-sharing.
The Home of the Brave section in the July/August, Your America, edition had me glued to my seat with stories about family, survival and a captivating picture of a girl in a poncho with a Partridge Family suitcase.
Life is better when you’re running away and wearing a poncho.
I read about the woman and her husband who got lost during an adventure in Big Bend and a suicide hotline misdial.
The story of fate and the Victory Girl airplane was my favorite. It had a serendipitous ending that made me smile at the awesomeness of how sometimes, all things come together for good.
They included a picture and a caption that cracked me up because the description of the girl on the side of the B-29 bomber plane was said to be, “a tastefully dressed beautiful young lady.”
When I think of tastefully dressed, I think of women like Jacki Onassis or Audrey Hepburn. This plane was prettied up with an image of a voluptuous Victoria Secret type model with a 1940’s flair. It was WW II and people needed pretty things to look at.
It’s a style that came before my mom’s yellow string bikini. The one I give her a hard time for wearing because I thought it revealed too much. I plead for the return of the classy, vintage swimsuit with the high waisted skirt.
But then yesterday, I found myself in the most revealing swim suit ever. I snapped a selfie for silly’s sake and the four weiner dogs I’m sitting ran for cover. There was nothing tasteful about it. I borrowed a swim suit top from one of my daughters in hopes of getting a great tan while I had the benefits of a friend’s private pool paradise.
Like my toilet, some things should just not be left out in the open.
But then there are stories like the life-filled pages in Reader’s Digest that remind me often times, our over-exposure is good. It helps us connect with others when we share the human side of our less than perfect stories, our battle cries.
I put the -I-C
in V-I-C-T-O-R-Y yesterday and then texted it to all my girls so they could see too. You could hear the laughter from all three counties.
That is an essential design element of my dream house.