Friday, May 7, 2010


Glamazon, I changed my mind. I have to do the confession thing after all.

I think this Friday evening I'm going to talk about sins of omission. Seems that is something we tend to forget about, but we shouldn't. When hubby asks what happened to the $100 he gave you yesterday and you shrug, you are leaving him with the impression that you did something necessary and expensive with it. You are not saying that you spent it on buying cuban cigars for Jacques. Now that's the kind of thing I'm talking about.

I love to entertain. I have a number of photos on here showing my pretty dining room. I am very happy with how these photos show off my nice room, and the wonderful floral arrangements in it.

Lookie here:

Okay, now this is simply lovely isn't it! I love to show off! Oh yeah, showing off is great. The only problem is that while my dining room is indeed gorgeous, my kitchen is totally ridiculously ugly. It's so ugly I want to show people the bathroom before the kitchen. The stove and refrig are shoved against each other. Now how pretty is that? Since I'm on an honesty kick, here is the photo:

Now how delightful is this? Not very, right? So it is a sin of omission not to show it? I have invited a lot of people to my house. I have to make them wear blindfolds when I take them into the "Kitchen From Hell". You can see I do have a mess of clean dishtowels (or maybe not clean, who the hell knows) hanging on the end of my Cost Plus poor girl's island. I also have 3 or 4 bottles of wine in the wine rack built into the little cheapie island.

The counters? Yeah, what you see is what you get. In other words, totally inadequate. The little room off the the left back corner of the photo is a pantry and that part is good. Another thing that is good is the breakfast nook that overlooks the garden. It's a goofy kitchen.

Now do I care? Yes, I care. I care very much. But there is something going on here besides the fact that re-doing this would cost from $50,000 to $150,000, it's my emotional inability to live in a torn up house for a couple or six months. I get so nervous with workmen, ladders, hammers, power tools, dust, and general upset environs that I would end up in the HOME for a year or two. So when I show you pretty stuff, remember my proclivity for sins of omission!

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