MY DREAM SHE-CAVE

or

Utility rooms are a necessary evil……..or are they necessarily evil? We are back-door people, therefore, all of our friends come to the back door. The front door is reserved strictly for people canvassing for sales, kids asking for funding so that they can go to Europe for the summer, ministers trying to save my soul and Girl Scouts of America. It’s also a place to leave donations for pick-up and for large parcels of mail, UPS, Fed Ex and etc. Come to think of it, anyone who’s ever been to our house to visit before knows to go to the back door. The first thing they come into is a very small room only big enough for the washer, dryer and freezer. The half bath is stuck at the end like an afterthought. If you’re very large you have to suck it in to get in there. You literally cannot turn around in there without knocking something off the wall or the counter.

First of all, the location for a utility room is all wrong. The utility room should be discretely attached to the master bedroom and facing the back yard. My idea of a utility room has been in my mind for years. So far, the only person I’ve seen come close to my specs has been my sister, Anne. She’s the one that convinced me that the logical place for a utility room is off of the master bedroom. She is absolutely correct as far as I’m concerned. She even has secret passages to her project room, and I remain pea-green with envy.

Most men have their own space. A place where they can go to not be disturbed. It’s a place where they display all of their trophies and neon beer-signs. They can smoke their stinky cigars, watch whatever they want on TV, and play computer games endlessly. If it’s not a MAN-CAVE DEN or a MAN-CAVE OFFICE, then it’s a MAN-CAVE GARAGE. There used to be Monster House and Monster Garage. Now there is THE MAN-CAVE, but, I’ve never seen a design for a SHE-CAVE. I had a really hard time even finding a picture of what might be a She-Cave.

If I haven’t made myself perfectly clear, I’ll just say that I WANT ONE!!!!! I’ll even make myself more clear than that. I do not want your MAN-CAVE. The Royster has been more than gracious in sharing his office and garage with me, but I just want my own, and I intend to take things just a bit further. I not only want a utility room / sewing / beading / writing room, but a place of solitude. This idea sprang from watching DIY and all of the reality shows on room and home do-overs.

For starters, my She-Cave will be as a large a master bedroom, and it will be located discretely off the back of the master bedroom. My list of specs for this room is as such:
• I guess a washer and dryer would be in order.
• Closet, cabinets, shelves for storage
• Desk with computer and phone
• A sewing machine area
• A 5’ X 6’ project table (to my waist) with a lighted surface for tracings and plug outlets.
• Proper lighting through out
• Good ventilation because I intend to use my beading torch
• A sink with hot and cold running water (definitely NOT for cleaning fish).
• A Coffee Pot
• Small refrigerator
• A small television
• Window facing the back yard
• A door opening to the back yard
• An ironing board that folds up in to its own cabinet - I guess this just goes with my generation.
• A small couch and a chair for visitors.

Well, that’s just about it. I don’t think it’s too much. Every woman should have one. I’d even share it with the Royster for special projects, like a nice stained glass project. Now I’ve got to justify this and make it happen. What do you think?

Wish me luck.

ONLY IN THE WEE HOURS

A LABOR OF LOVE

An eerie feeling woke me suddenly, and I bolted straight up in bed. Oh My gosh! It’s started! I looked at the clock. It was 4:00 a.m.

“Honey! Wake up! It’s time! Throw something on and let’s go!”

“Okay…..What time did it start?”

“About 9:30 last night!”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”

“Well, it wasn’t far enough along yet, but it is now! HURRY!!!”

I threw on my robe, grabbed the camera, some scissors and a flashlight and dashed out to the back yard. Let me tell you…..This is quite an event for a 60 year old woman. Roy was right behind me, ready to help with the scissors.

“We’ve made it in time!” Snap-flash, snap-flash. “They’re only just finished opening!”

“Good! You just keep taking pictures and I’ll get us some coffee and I’ll be right back out to help you.”

This has become an annual event. A dear neighbor gave me a Night-blooming Cerus about two years ago. The first time it bloomed, it only had two blooms. This year there were four. These are absolutely some of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen. Their aroma is to die for. I expect there will be more next year, and we will rise to the occasion once again.

Since I’ve retired, it’s been my business to keep track of every bloom in the yard, from the orange, lemon and lime trees to the Angel Trumpets, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Plumbago, cactus flowers and African Iris. This is a new fascination with us. I guess it just goes with our age. It’s a new appreciation.

This spectacular event is really special since they only bloom once a year, and then only at night. As soon as dawn hits, they’re gone until next year. Gone are the days when we could have pulled an all-nighter to watch this event unfold. First of all, at that young age, an all-nighter would NOT have been to watch a bunch of flowers open. Secondly, Night-bloomers were Night-blooming-Car-Parkers in those days. I guess something like this might have been wasted on youth. It was hard enough to drag out of bed in the mornings for school.

We’ve both worked very hard in the yard, specifically the back yard. It’s become a tropical sanctuary. We love to sit out there in the evenings and early in the mornings to absorb the soul soothing tranquility that we’ve created over the years. It’s been worth every last drop of blood, sweat and tears shed over the years in this undertaking.

Oh, it’s still not finished, and probably won’t ever be. It’ll be a labor of love for as long as we live here.