It’s time to introduce you all to the window treatments in my kitchen. They are upholstered frames covered in a fading, some would say authentic, Western print. They conceal the hardware to the blinds also pictured. They are also horrifying. Bad. Tacky. Unapologetic. I heard the camera whimper when I took the photos; I winced.
Truth be told, I don’t look at them that often, even though most of my time at home is spent either making a mess in the backyard or making a mess in the kitchen. I just don’t look up that high. When we first moved it, I swore every day that I would just take them down and leave the wall plain for the time being because I hated them so much. I don’t even see them anymore, I’ve become so accustomed to them. I slipped into denial though, like no one else saw them either and they weren’t actually there. Time to come clean to you and to myself though: they’re there all right.
The reader may not agree that there is something wrong with these treatments. They are decently constructed and sturdy. The problem I have is that I grew up here in our beautiful desert surrounded by all the things that appeal to the Southwestern taste. Handmade wooden ladders leaned against adobe walls as decor. Dried chilis in a heart-shaped wreath at Christmastime. Woven blankets in bright colors with geometric patterns. Cow skulls. Anything DeGrazia ever painted. It;s all in my soul and I am happy with that. Don’t need it on display in this house though like the last owner did. That was his house.
I’m ready to give the kitchen a different voice. There’s enough dust and dirt in there for a guest to know that we’re still in the desert. I just want a set of curtains for the window above the kitchen sink that I’ve always wanted and now have. And I really need to dust the windowsill.
February 29, 2012