
No, this is not my neighbor's actual chair, but one lifted from Flickr. How ballsy and intrusive with a camera do you think I am?
Flickr photo via jeffsmallwood
Okay. Who started the matching Adirondack chairs in the front yard business? Come here so I can shove my wet finger in your ear. Decorating your front lawn with Adirondack chairs that you NEVER sit in…I don’t get it.
My neighbors began displaying two white Adirondack chairs on their front lawn this past summer. Not once have I ever eyed anyone actually sitting in the chairs. Actually, they’re arranged at such a tight angle to one another, I imagine knees would be knocking if they were ever occupied simultaneously. I’ve seen the chairs for lawn ghosts phenomenon around in the ritzier neighborhoods for a while now. I’m not in such a swanky locale, but that doesn’t stop the neighbors from jumping on the Martha Stewart Lawn bandwagon.
I should add here that I’m not much into home decor. You knew that already. I’m a minimalist when it comes to home furnishings. I like having room to move (well, when you subtract the sea of toys). I was this way even pre-kids. I decorate like a college freshman boy but with less beer and tits posters. (although my bedroom walls in high school were covered with framed Lamborghini posters) One of the more ridiculous arguments I’ve had in the past few years involved my lack of decorating desire. The riff started over my nonchalance regarding the choice of new curtains. “Don’t you have an opinion about the curtains?” “No, not really. They’re just curtains.” “But, you’re a GIRL. GIRLS are supposed to be into rearranging the furniture and picking out curtains. You’re more of a guy than I am.” Yes, I am.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not completely anti-home decor. When I do put a nail in the wall or reserve a spot on the mantle, I prefer the object have a story behind it. On the wall above the computer is a wooden cuckoo clock given to me by my mother who, when she handed it over, said, “I’ve always wanted a cuckoo clock.” On the living room wall is a colorful oil pastel drawing Gav created in a 3rd grade art class. It’s a blend of shapes and colors in which Gav continues to perceive different things…now that’s he almost 14, he’s sure he sees a breast in the drawing. On the mantel is a photo of my brothers P and J when they were little boys in the baseball uniforms…the frame is four pieces of scrap wood I picked up off the floor from my high school boyfriend’s workshop…he hurriedly glued them together as a joke, telling me to toss the impromptu pseudo-frame in the trash…I saved it and taped my brothers’ photo to the back…it still smells like sawdust. On the wall by the back door is a piece of wood with a face carved in it…my mother bought this for me at a little coffee shop on the Blue Ridge Parkway where she would work summers baking biscuits…the carved face is supposed to guard the door and prevent evil from entering my house.
See, I have stuff. Special stuff. And, I guess curtains usually don’t have a story behind them besides, “Oh, those? I got a 20% discount on those at Pier 1 Imports.” ::wiping a sentimental tear from my eye:: Yet, I still refuse to lose sleep over any fabric, pattern, length, color of a set of curtains. Call me apathetic, but I really don’t care. Just anything to pull to a close so I can walk around the house in my underwear.
Back to the neighbors’ Adirondack chairs. Maybe they have history behind them. I hope so. Maybe they’ve been passed down generation after generation and are so archaic the seat will bust if anyone dares sit in them. (hmm, i’m highly tempted to sneak across the yard in the middle of the night and have a seat) I made a comment when the chair pair appeared on the lawn, “Oh, watch. When they start having children, they’ll add baby Adirondacks to the phantom lawn chair collection.” Guess what they added a few days ago? Yep, yep. A mini-Adirondack. I suppose congratulations are in order.














