I'm going to hire a wino to decorate our home, so you will feel more at ease here, and you won't need to roam.

I have been daydreaming about where to start on decorating this house. My friend, Jean has already stated about her desire to help, which is cool, but I am afraid that my new house will tend to look a little junked up if I employ her services. I love Jeanie to death but honestly there is no telling what treasures she will show up with. Jean is one serious dumpster diving mama. Did I mention I would be living around the corner from her? I almost dread opening my front door and there stands one of my best friends with a box of garbage salvaged from a blueblood residence in River Oaks.

My mother reminded me about some of my past decorating flops on Monday when we went to visit her and exchange presents. She showed me some pictures of my room when I was a teenager, when I was doing strange things like hanging coasters on the walls and turning on the multi-colored head shop fiber optic spinning lamp that looked a lot like Tina Turner’s wig from the “Private Dancer” album cover. Those were the days when I was craving a hot pink bathroom with Mustang hubcaps. If memory serves me right, that was when I was dressing like a priest and known at high school simply as “crazy girl” like I was hanging out at the greyhound station talking to myself or something.

I bet my Mother wished she had a normal teenager daughter who loved pastels and wore those stupid crocheted lace collars that seemed to be in young ladies fashion, instead of that adolescent anomaly that lived in the nightmare room, which occasionally doubled as an experimental laboratory. There were hairy spiders living in jars, not to mention one poor crippled pigeon and a baby squirrel that I had hid in my closet in attempt to nurse them back to health.

I am sure that I worried her with the rainbow of temporary hair highlighters that I was using during my formative years. That stuff was cool. It was a tube and a brush figuration like mascara. I could highlight whatever I wanted and leave it like that OR brush it through and have an overall totally different color hair for the day. That stuff washed out like a dream too. Back then I was even loving those crazy wig store clothes and would sneak off on Saturday afternoons and walk miles to visit those fun places. I was a mess.

Now things have come full circle, I am an adult now. I can really have my own space to have my will and I still love the bizarre. My mother now wishes to bestow me with her dining room furniture with huge china hutch filled with the conservative and stately Lenox "Eternal" pattern, which is nice but that stuff certainly is a bit elegant and tasteful, and I am not. I was kind of hoping that my home not be furnished with green crushed velvet chairs shaped like high-heel shoes. Maybe even something normal with unique conversation pieces? Is there a future for handmade furniture from prison my new abode? I’m not even sure of this any of this myself!