A few weeks ago I was visiting my friend Bonnie, at her mountain house in Cashiers, NC.
Her husband was there too. And mine. Whatever.
Bonnie is a clever wench who knows that I have a hard time sitting still and like to s-o-c-i-a-l-i-z-e, so she volunteered us to work at a regional Designer Showcase Home on my second day there.
Perfect! I’ve always wanted to be of those women.
Off we go, La De Da, all dressed up and ready to sweep our hands (a la Vanna White) across the expanse of a beautifully appointed room, while schmoozing with the swells, and acting like we know ‘all about every damn thing’, but we get…
wait for it… wait for it…
Golf Cart duty, and put the step in front of the van duty.
Wow. And in heels.
Neither of us being of the spoiled-sport sort, we made the best of it.
By the end of the day Bonnie was practically sling-shotting guests from the third seat back and boomeranging that yellow step into place like an outback pygmy, and I was insisting that the chance of making it on foot from one building to the next was an almost impossible feat:
“Yes, I know the bunk house looks close but it’s a rugged path, and there might be bears.”
Or, “Hey there handsome. What? With your wife? Fine.”
And, “You look like you need a ride. To the restrooms? They’re over by that mountain- way off in the distance…”
|The Living area of the
which looks very similar to my
except I don’t have one.
|This was an OUTDOOR bedroom-
on a porch-
with the bears.
|An intimate corner of the
library/ small dining room.
Of course it was.
Where the wife prepares the meals.
Sure she does.
|One of several outdoors relaxation spots
with rosemary as the center piece, which I applaud because
I always insist on fresh herbs at every table.
|The tack room in the stables.
Where they keep the horses.
To ride the property at sunset.
|Another tack room.
This one is off the bedroom…
I’m not judging.