Sun...the original happy lamp

My father has offered to fly me down to Florida next weekend. He and my mother are currently building a house, or what I like to call 'the grandchild magnet', on the Gulf Coast. Even though J and I don't have kids, I use this label to convince them not to sell it...ever. You see, the land was purchased as an 'investment'. Buy it - build it - sell it. But I will do whatever I can to keep a waterfront beach house in the family, even if it means bribing them with frequent visits from non-existent grandchildren.

He wants me there presumably so I can oooh and ahhhh, but also to help pick tile and paint colors. I am no Nate Berkus (Mmm, Nate Berkus) but I venture to say that my atheistic taste is more keen than dear ol’ dads. My father decorates in the distinct style of square and pointy. Everything is very sleek and clean, and also lacks certain warmth...if it wasn't for his love of natural woods, it would be souless. I blame this on a significant residency in Germany. My mother tries to put her touches in, but it ends up kinda BauHaus meets Crackel Barrel. Not a good look. So I will see what I can do.

My father is not a shopper. I guarantee he will fluster and groan within 20 minutes of the interior decorating discussions. Why would I want to expose myself to such curmudgeonly angst? Florida sunshine...in Februrary! Just what the doctor ordered. I will be lounging by windows and open doors to absorb every stray photon possible, whilst discussing the grout and marble vs. tile developments.

So I hope I can go. It is all hinged on whether the weekends line up or not, and of course there is the phone coverage matrix at work. I am just short of the 2 weeks notice demanded for my coworkers to properly analyze the Nacho-not-at-work scenario. But it's just a day, so one would think...

This will also give me a better excuse to head to the Home Show this weekend, where I plan to spend my time stalking Tom Silva...where I can barrage him with questions regarding converting my ugly old bathroom into a slick and shiny laundry room. To vent up or out the side? Surely a homeowner can sheetrock themselves, afterall it’s just mud! Oh, Tom, you can come help if you want. And bring your camera crew! And that red headed guy who doesn’t really know anything, but can point and act like he does, while drinking hot cocoa and eating fresh baked cookies. That's how serious I am, I will bake for you. And I live sorta near Boston, I think that's some kinda requirement.

Spellcheck Note: It turned aesthetic into atheistic...which is kinda interesting because my father is an atheist. And his atheistic taste is not working for him in the home decor department either. So no edit required.