My mother's daughter

Throughout my life I have heard stories of how my Dad would come home from work and injure himself on the living room furniture that had been rearranged in his absence. We would all laugh and be quietly proud of our mom who could move almost anything if there was an aesthetic goal to be reached. Mom would wedge herself in between a piece of furniture and the wall and just make it happen. (She's very good with her legs.) A year or two ago, Mom went to help a dear friend of hers revamp her home in Colorado. It was just the two girls... Nolene and Linda. There was plenty of furniture to choreograph into lovely new arrangements and very little upper body strength to get it done. One desk needed to be moved so Mom just crawled underneath on all fours, then lifted it with her back and crawled to the new location. My mother was 'just doing it' before Nike ever came up with their watered down version.

Happily, we are all blessed with different talents. Life would be so white bread if we were all the same. My mother sees the world and how it can be made beautiful, or if not more pleasing to the eye, at least more functional. She has a feel for space and how it should be used and I don't. My talents are different than my mom's and I'm grateful for them, but I've always been a little sad that I didn't get the extra serving of good taste genes that she has. Today I'm feeling a little more like my mother's daughter.

We're redecorating Sarah's bedroom. She's outgrown the soft yellow walls and the Beatrix Potter prints and is ready for something a tad more grownup. The walls are now 'Tradewind', a nifty shade of blue and today was the day to start rearranging furniture to make way for a full bed instead of a twin. I called Mom to come over and help me get the new full bed up to Sarah's room. "Do you think we can do it?" she asked. I told her we should give it a try. I opened the door to the garage and showed her my idea. "All you have to do is steady it and push a little."

I had the box springs loaded onto the girls' little plastic sled. Mom coached me to serious up and to try to look like this is how we always move things. We pushed and pulled it out of the garage, up the driveway, onto the grass, down the sidewalk and then up the stairs and across the front porch.

You can't tell in the picture, but Mom is laughing so hard she's crying. She had just decided that this is a dandy invention and that we could probably make some money with it. She also came up with the name...

Behold... the Bed Sled TM, PAT PENDING

I can move furniture just like my mom!