I need to post this now, because at some point in June I will be complaining about the horrible burden this crazy woman has inflicted upon us, and why-oh-why didn’t I just say no in the first place.
Let me start a little closer to the beginning….
Downtown Dad and I bought the house we live in 5 years ago solely because it had a pool and a basement with a large projection screen TV, with room for 60 kids if properly crammed, into either space. We purchased it not for it’s aesthetic, but for the main reason that we were “theatre parents” and these would be fabulous spaces for cast parties. The home’s prior owners were heirs to a local nursery fortune, but sadly were also do-it-yourselfers who did not know the difference between Oak Veneer, and particleboard, or it’s indoor vs outdoor uses. Nor did they have a sense of style that had evolved much beyond the 1980’s.
Last year, as I pulled into my driveway, I was met by an old hopping woman wearing cropped pants, garden gloves and green Crocs. Let me repeat the important descriptor… Old Hopping Woman. She was hell-bent on getting me to agree to being one of the homes on the Soroptimist International of Fargo Garden Tour. I let her Superball bounce slow, and, while backing up toward my front door, explained to her that while this yard may have been Garden-Tour-worthy a few years ago, we had certainly not had time to tend it as it deserved and surely they wouldn’t want to include us… surely they wouldn’t, surely not….
Two weeks ago, the same Old Hopping Woman appeared at our front door. Some ne’er do well had brazenly backed out of the tour and since we’d been on the Alternate List, well, surely we’d like to be included… surely we would, surely…
And, the rest is yet to be written history.