Life is not a Pottery Barn Catalog

I open the mail box.

I see it glossy and slick and start to shiver.

The New Pottery Barn Catalog is here.

I rush inside, and don’t stop until I am behind a closed locked door. 

My retreat, the place of peace, the place where this mommy takes her woman porn, my bathroom.

Keep your other porn. I am mommie see me fawn and pant at a clean closet, an organized shelf of towels, and teen bedrooms where the floor is not obscured with every item of clothing they own.

My simple fantasies are filled with clean kitchen countertops, perpetually refilled toilet paper dispensers, toilet seats that stay down, and floors that your feet don’t stick to.

Give me order, give me clean, give me my Pottery Barn Catalog.

The cover alone makes me swoon. 

An ocean blue view fills the back ground, copious comfortable seating casually placed upon a wooden deck,  floral  covered pillows, candles and lanterns atop a wooden urban chic table, a few books tossed carelessly aside on the deck;  see the candles twinkle with the sunset,  smell the sea, feel the soft seat,  sink in, take a deep breath,  a long exhale, peace comes included in the purchase price, this piece of the American Consumer Pie can be yours…Come on you deserve it!

If not for yourself, do it for your country…its your duty…see the waving American flag in the back ground?

Slowly digest the images, read the font on the cover,  Pottery Barn,  Coastal Style in a casual free-flowing  grace-filled cursive script… Free shipping on 200 items!

Open the catalog, turn the page, expand the view, now see the sunset, the broad expanse of beach, the  empty lounge chairs turned toward the sea that await a passenger, a bright umbrella caps the bucolic scene.

Turn the page again see the Adirondack chairs, party sized water dispensers filled with icy water and sliced lemons and limes,  hanging mason jars hold candles, shining stem ware awaits, glossy glass,  all the party is just beginning scenes, wine and food and fun.

You are missing out! Join the party!

A tire swings  in the back ground Andy and Opie are walking up the drive fishing poles across their shoulders…

Keep turning pages, faster and faster see the beautiful monogrammed bedding all with turn down service,  jump in!  Stacks of books, mirrored filled,  perfect paint color selected walls, candles sparkling, fragrant fruit filled bowls,  life’s just a bowl of cherries images..then it comes.

The chrome and white bathroom Petaluma sink consoles complete with fluffy white Hydro Cotton towels,  no frayed edges here, Kensington Tilt Mirrors  gleam, white cafe curtains streaming with clean bright light. I crave a cigarette and I don’t even smoke…

Clear glass jars,  hold sponges, bath salts, soaps and a lifetime supply of q-tips. The walls are a soft hue of what Pottery Barn tells me is Benjamin Moore paint, a color called Hush… panting I …am …almost… there…

Knocked out by the Napa dining chairs, slayed by the sleigh bed,  pages flipping faster images blurred, is that a wine bottle chandelier?

A lighting fixture made from mason jars?

I didn’t get to finish…It was page 47 that did it.

The wondrous scene of a cottage styled room, white wooden tongue and groove beamed ceilings, white french doors opened wide letting in light, a sectional with  sea shell pillows, my glasses and book there atop the Sullivan finest top-grain leather aniline dyed espresso ottoman.

Did you just say your glasses?

Enter the curmudgeon.

The inner skeptic, my grumpy inner voice who swears ands screams in my ear and laughs at my secret Pottery Barn Peaceful Life Dreams…the bad girl who never lets me have a moment’s peace.

I repeat did you just say your glasses?

Uh well, they look like they could be mine…see there on the ottoman?

Ottoman?  Have we left Texas?  Magically landed in the Middle of Turkey? Since when is a coffee table anything other than a coffee table?

Look at these French doors? The gleaming dark wood floor the white woodwork,  isn’t it all just a breath of fresh air?

I tell you what, they don’t close those  Open French  doors and every bug in North America is getting inside…and just who pays their electric bill anyway…all those windows and doors open, ac and lights on…what do they think the world is made of money?

Look at the floral arrangement behind the couch, even you have to admit it is just perfect.

Perfect alright.   Looks like someone went outside took some branches off a shrub and stuck them in old trash jars…first thing you know those dogs of yours will be sitting on that perfect couch, chewing those perfect branches, and it will all be a huge perfect mess.

Look here, page 88, I stammer to myself skipping forward, the Samantha Collection, it even says in print right here,  an organized home lets you breathe a sigh of relief…

Listen up I’m going to do you a favor here alright….look at all the pages…go on..look, let me know when your done.

I go back, look at all the pages, see my future in the Bedford Desk and Organization Collection, white wood clean dream office, find happiness in the limitless possibilities of fabric and furniture selections, fawn over the thread colors for even more monogram choices, ooh and aah over the gleaming scenes of domestic order and bliss.

At last I finish.

So  you done now? Ready for your favor?  Answer me this dreamer girl, one thing ties all those pictures together..just what do all those pictures of so-called domestic bliss have in common?

They are all…clean, and organized, and bright, and filled with color and

WRONG! What they have in common  girl, is that there are no people in them. Natta one. Empty just walked out shoes, glasses ready for wine, and ready for readn, empty seats, and the stuff of people, but no people themselves. Thats what they have in common. Real Life is not in a Pottery Barn Catalog. Aint no dirty dishes, laundry needn done, groceries to be got, toilets needn cleaned, dog hair covered floors, dirty windows, insects or screaming children, bills waitn to be paid, no real life in those pages…so what ya think about that?

A girl can dream can’t she?

 

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Filed under Children, Erma-ish, Family, Humor, Life, motherhood, Story Telling, True Life, Writing

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