I am just, well, overwhelmed with my trip to Charleston this weekend (editors be damned! I am not gonna put SC here ’cause if ya’ll don’t know where I’m talkin’ about then ya’ll are probably already wearing white below the waist, bless your heart). The homes we got to visit were like something Margaret Mitchell could only dream about. The first one looked like a house Scarlet O’Hara would’ve lived in if she’d had money. Seriously. It had a room so beautiful I was almost afraid go through the closets. There are no words. Original Audubon paintings, antique sofas and chests from the 1700′s. All of it just so…..Southern. Sisal rugs thrown in with priceless Aubusson carpets…unbelievable! ORIGINAL moldings that just can’t be imagined in the McMansions built nowadays. Seriously, I want to go home and burn my house down and just start over.

The second house (where we stayed) was the “farm down on the river”. It looked halfway between “The Big Chill” and “Giant”(look it up children. It’s that movie ’bout Liz Taylor redecorating that big ole farmhouse in Texas and flirting with a couple of gay guys – or something like that).

Both, however, were as homey as Christmas cookies. While i’m sure if I put my feet on the coffee table I would hear my Momma’s voice screeching at me about how she taught me how to act “in good company” (and to put the seat down-that one was really big in a house full of boys) my hostess would have never said anything. She probably woulda joined in. Mostly y’all I was reminded that beautiful homes are beautiful because they invite you to come in and sit a spell. No matter how fine they are.

I think, this being a blog and all, that I will tell you more next time.

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