50 Shades of Cream

So there we six lucky girls were last Wednesday evening on the bluffs of Fair Oaks, overlooking the American River, ooh-ing, aah-ing and cackling whilst eagerly imbibing our Rombauer and Frank Family chardonnay.

But we also had some critical decisions to make.

Here’s the deal. My dear friend Julie is moving into a gloriously beautiful Mediterranean-style home perched atop a hill, ensconced in leafy green goodness, surrounded by flora and fauna, the likes of which even you don’t see very often. Trust me. Think that great house in the movie It’s Complicated with Meryl Streep. Or maybe Tuscany, overlooking the Arno? Heck, I don’t know the proper provenance and correct architectural descriptions. But I DO know it’s magnificent. And charming. Just waiting for Jeff and Julie to make it uniquely theirs. And the first room Julie said she wanted to do was the spacious, already exquisite master suite: what color to paint the walls.

So my Sis was in town, and I absolutely could not allow her to go back home to Memphis without seeing this enchanting place. Plus, Teri and Susie are interior designers. (Fabby ones!) And Di and I, well, we are great, ummm, consultants. Yeah. Consultants. (Aka forever on the ready to openly give our always-unsolicited opinion.)

“Julie, we need to do this. We want to help you.”

And being the kind person she is, she said yes.

And there we were…scrutinizing and analyzing 50 shades of cream.

 

On the fireplace mantle in the master suite

*******

“Oh, I like this one.”

“Are you kidding? That reads way too gold.”

“What about this one, called Bauhaus?”

“No way. Makes the tile look horrid.”

“Hmmmm… I like Steamed Milk. A lot.”

“That’s a maybe. What about Continental Cream?”

“Yuk. In here it looks hideous.”

“Ewwwww.”

“Ahhhh…that looks really pretty. I do like the Spilled Milk, Jules.”

“It’s called STEAMED Milk!”

And it continued…

I thought for sure that we six brilliant minds could decide on thee perfect color/hue/tone quite expeditiously. But I thought wrong. It was, indeed, a daunting task.

“Do you want another glass of Rombauer?”

“”Sure!” said Teri.

“Did I hear someone say Rombauer?” asked Sis.

Happily, it was unanimous. Time for the sunset, some food and another glass.

 

And with that, we retreated to the patio, narrowed the 50 shades of cream down to 5, and toasted to a happily-ever-after for Julie and her family. And then we (well, I guess I) decided we must reconvene again soon to arrive at a consensus as to the relative merits of Frieze, Berber or Sisal carpeting in the master bedroom.

“Julie, we need to do this.”

So Sis, you must come back to California soon so we can continue the dialog on the 50 Shades of Cream. And maybe then we’ll also be ready to talk about the 50 Shades of Grey.

 

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2 Responses to 50 Shades of Cream
  1. Diane Bertsch
    May 31, 2012 | 10:58 pm

    Oh, my, this made me smile from ear to ear!

  2. Claudia Scott
    June 1, 2012 | 3:24 am

    What a place and evening it was! Let me know when she needs my help with the curtains!

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About Me

It's true! Despite playing defense virtually all my life against the onslaught of this sometimes-ugly aging process, it...has...arrived! I naively thought I would escape cellulite (the Cottage Cheese) and crow's feet (the Crepe Paper). But I didn't! And why didn't anyone tell me about this emotional roller-coaster that comes with being an Empty-Nester?! My name is Jodie Barringer Myers. I'm a 54-year-old Friday/chardonnay/ hydrangea-loving wife/mom/court reporter living in Sacramento (Gold River!), California. Writing is cathartic for me. And because I look to find humor and humility among the rubble that is my now very peri-menopausal self, I'm hopeful that you will laugh, cry, learn, enjoy and, most of all, relate to what I have to say. After all, we're all in this together, right?

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