Being in full-time ministry and wanting a somewhat pretty home can sometimes, well alltimes, be like catfish and chocolate milk. They just don't go together. I have found myself once or twice in the predicament of wanting to beautify my ghetto abode just a little but without the budget to do so. It has made me do some things that give me...well, pause.
My friend, Jennifer Peterson, once found me a great old oil painting to go on my mantle. (She wants me to use her full name so when she Googles herself, at least something will come up. It's a little crazy but, for her, I'll overlook it. On that note, if you Google my name you get a porn star. It's not me. Promise.)
I put that beautiful and, might I add very affordable, painting on my mantle for a week or so to "think it over". Translation: 'if it stays long enough, Trey might forget about it and won't make me send it back'.
It's passive aggressive, I know, but now you see where I'm going with this.
One night, (it's about to get ugly so if you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip ahead) I cooked us up some bbq pork roast. Delicious. I need to get you the recipe. Unfortunately, when cooking a large slab of meat, there is inevitably some fat left over in the pan that I carefully cut away so that it never makes it into a sandwich. Trey bet me that I wouldn't eat some of the nasty pork fat.
When I asked him what he'd give me, he said "you can keep the painting".
"What?!? But it's been hanging there all week and you haven't said anything! I thought that meant I already could keep it?"
"Hey Mrs. McPassive Agressive! Um, that would be a no...unless, of course, you want to participate in a little Hill fear factor...or, are you scared?" Maniacal laugh.
Here's the painting.
I ate pork fat for home accessories.
Totally worth it.
This morning Jennifer Peterson (that's two mentions for Google), called me to say she saw a couch that had "pretty lines and great potential" out in front of someone's house for bulk trash. "You have to go get it."
So I drove by.
It was in Highland Park which is kind of like Beverly Hills but without all the poor people.
The couch was pretty but way to heavy for me to lift all by myself so I did what anyone else would do...
I drove around the corner and picked up five painters from a construction site who spoke only Spanish. I speak no Spanish except for Taco, Enchilada, Margarita and ayudame. I also showed them $10 and pointed. 'Nuff said. They hopped in my car with Sadie and I and loaded that couch without breaking a sweat.
At first it was looking like it wasn't going to fit and one of my helpers said, "Es trash?"
"Yes! Es trash!"
"If it no fit in your car, I take it my truck."
I cracked up and said, "You just want my couch!"
He laughed really hard because 1. I was right and 2. I was calling this roadside trash "mine".
Sadie and I rode all the way back to our house with the trash-couch sticking out of the back of my car and into the arms of my most-annoyed husband.
"It has potential, baby. Really."
"Of course it does, Melissa. Of course it does."