I HATE BOOTIES
I HATE BOOTIES
At Smith Mountain Lake the gala of the year is called “The Home Tour.” The total volunteer event raises large sums of money for nine different local charities. It takes a year to put together and is funded by local businesses, organizations and ticket sales. Volunteers recruit the businesses and other volunteers recruit 8 to 10 homeowners to open their homes for the public to tour over a three-day weekend in October. All the proceeds go to the charities.
The homeowners are the true heroes of the gala. At their own expense they get their homes in top condition both inside and out. The homes get fresh paint if needed, carpets cleaned, and decorated by interior decorator businesses sponsors. The lawn is clipped, the leaves are vacuumed and gardens pruned. The homes and grounds are picture perfect for the tour.
The tour homes are mostly on the lake. We ticket holders can tour by car or boat. Touring by boat is quicker but some have as many as ninety steps from dock to house. I usually volunteer for dock duty while Shirl works the home. Dock duty can be very interesting but mostly a lot of fun if it’s not to cold with wind like last year.
One funny event a few years ago pushed my humor button. We had a very large, very expensive cabin cruiser come into the dock to tie up. The Captain was a demanding jerk so we had him tie off his monster himself. His knots were his knots and his placement on the dock was his responsibility. The dock was too small for his boat; we pointed that out to him on his arrival. While he was on the home tour, his boat’s antenna got knocked off or fell off on a piling. I think it hit the roof edge of the dock roof.
On the dock that day we had all retired volunteers consisting of a Navy Admiral, an Army General, two lawyers, a labor union organizer from New Jersey, and me. We all awaited the Captain’s return! He was livid and threatened a lawsuit for damages. That jackass wanted to sue an all-volunteer charity for an antenna. The Admiral and lawyer read him his rights both land and sea. The labor union organizer, in his thick New Jersey dialect, informed him that the antenna was taped in black electrician’s tape when he arrived and suggested he place it sidewise up his secret place as he leave as quickly as possible without further conversation. I was too busy laughing to say anything. There was no further conversation from him, unless it was well out at sea.
The home tour is a wonderful event for all involved. However I have no desire to see the stuff accumulated by someone else over a thirty to sixty year span. All the stuffed pillows, accent colors, wall schemes, kitchen appliances, bathroom tubs, fireplaces, beds with pillows, chairs with pillows, and pillows with pillows. All the homes are worth between $700,000.00 and several millions. A nice lake lot will cost over a million now. A $20,000.00 doublewide would be worth $1,200,000.00 on home tour.
The Home Tour at Smith Mountain Lake is a woman’s event. I am willing to buy a ticket and work a turn on a dock or parking cars but to go through homes is a real drag. My Honey can remember what every home she ever visited looked like by level, colors, stuff, stuffed on and in oversized furniture, walls, doodads, collections and names. My memory is of one home that had maybe a dozen exercise machines, bar bell weights and other torture machines bolted on the walls in a very large room. I am still curious what the owners or the kids must look like.
My biggest frustration is the paper booties we have to wear to go through the display homes. My feet are big, and the selection is poor in big sizes. Trying to put booties on over my rubber soled walking shoes is such a struggle as to make the whole thing torture. The drill is to approach the entrance where there is a box of paper booties awaiting for us sheep to try and find a pair to fit. My Honey is helpful finding me big booties but only because my blood pressure is probably showing. She keeps me from turning back or causing a scene. Then we enter the home and follow the persons ahead one way through the home. The ladies are talking, the men are glassy eyed, and if it’s Saturday or Sunday afternoon they are missing a good football game. All are in booties!
When finished, we are in front of the exit door and must turn in the booties in front of a witness. On to the next home and go through the booties again. I have learned over the years to be most obnoxious at the exit door to keep my first found booties. I take them with me from home to home and keep them at home in the safe until next year. Next year I’ll have three booties not worn out. Talk about a feeling of wealth!
I’m always happy to go home to my doublewide, put the three well-used booties in the safe, and have freedom for the next 51 weeks.
PS
This year, 2006 we were blessed beyond belief! I worked a dock on a cold, windy and rainy Friday morning. We had six boats all morning to dock. The boats all had their winter curtains up and heaters going so the passengers and crew were toasty warm and dry. There were eight of us on the dock. I was the oldest and slowest so I was able to pull the old trick I learned in the Army. Sat in the dock house and look busy with a pencil and paper pad.
I am proud to say I didn’t go though ONE house. No booties this year for me. I did drive My Honey to all the houses she wanted to tour and sat in the car anticipating her return. After 55 ½ years, waiting for My Honey is my best-learned skill.
The last house we visited, they parked us directly in front of the door in a large parking area paved with brick. Like those English mansions you see on PBS’s Masterpiece Theater. I got out and walked over to a group of men standing on the front porch to see if they were Honey waiting? They were and we had a laugh or two. The bootie box was behind me. I noticed that this year they were black and not blue. The first pair I picked up was big enough for my shoes. I asked why the change to black? I was told that this year all the booties are large since a small shoe would fit in a big bootie and they could never get enough big booties in years past.
I went home, opened the safe, took out the three well-used blue booties and put them in the trashcan.
At Smith Mountain Lake the gala of the year is called “The Home Tour.” The total volunteer event raises large sums of money for nine different local charities. It takes a year to put together and is funded by local businesses, organizations and ticket sales. Volunteers recruit the businesses and other volunteers recruit 8 to 10 homeowners to open their homes for the public to tour over a three-day weekend in October. All the proceeds go to the charities.
The homeowners are the true heroes of the gala. At their own expense they get their homes in top condition both inside and out. The homes get fresh paint if needed, carpets cleaned, and decorated by interior decorator businesses sponsors. The lawn is clipped, the leaves are vacuumed and gardens pruned. The homes and grounds are picture perfect for the tour.
The tour homes are mostly on the lake. We ticket holders can tour by car or boat. Touring by boat is quicker but some have as many as ninety steps from dock to house. I usually volunteer for dock duty while Shirl works the home. Dock duty can be very interesting but mostly a lot of fun if it’s not to cold with wind like last year.
One funny event a few years ago pushed my humor button. We had a very large, very expensive cabin cruiser come into the dock to tie up. The Captain was a demanding jerk so we had him tie off his monster himself. His knots were his knots and his placement on the dock was his responsibility. The dock was too small for his boat; we pointed that out to him on his arrival. While he was on the home tour, his boat’s antenna got knocked off or fell off on a piling. I think it hit the roof edge of the dock roof.
On the dock that day we had all retired volunteers consisting of a Navy Admiral, an Army General, two lawyers, a labor union organizer from New Jersey, and me. We all awaited the Captain’s return! He was livid and threatened a lawsuit for damages. That jackass wanted to sue an all-volunteer charity for an antenna. The Admiral and lawyer read him his rights both land and sea. The labor union organizer, in his thick New Jersey dialect, informed him that the antenna was taped in black electrician’s tape when he arrived and suggested he place it sidewise up his secret place as he leave as quickly as possible without further conversation. I was too busy laughing to say anything. There was no further conversation from him, unless it was well out at sea.
The home tour is a wonderful event for all involved. However I have no desire to see the stuff accumulated by someone else over a thirty to sixty year span. All the stuffed pillows, accent colors, wall schemes, kitchen appliances, bathroom tubs, fireplaces, beds with pillows, chairs with pillows, and pillows with pillows. All the homes are worth between $700,000.00 and several millions. A nice lake lot will cost over a million now. A $20,000.00 doublewide would be worth $1,200,000.00 on home tour.
The Home Tour at Smith Mountain Lake is a woman’s event. I am willing to buy a ticket and work a turn on a dock or parking cars but to go through homes is a real drag. My Honey can remember what every home she ever visited looked like by level, colors, stuff, stuffed on and in oversized furniture, walls, doodads, collections and names. My memory is of one home that had maybe a dozen exercise machines, bar bell weights and other torture machines bolted on the walls in a very large room. I am still curious what the owners or the kids must look like.
My biggest frustration is the paper booties we have to wear to go through the display homes. My feet are big, and the selection is poor in big sizes. Trying to put booties on over my rubber soled walking shoes is such a struggle as to make the whole thing torture. The drill is to approach the entrance where there is a box of paper booties awaiting for us sheep to try and find a pair to fit. My Honey is helpful finding me big booties but only because my blood pressure is probably showing. She keeps me from turning back or causing a scene. Then we enter the home and follow the persons ahead one way through the home. The ladies are talking, the men are glassy eyed, and if it’s Saturday or Sunday afternoon they are missing a good football game. All are in booties!
When finished, we are in front of the exit door and must turn in the booties in front of a witness. On to the next home and go through the booties again. I have learned over the years to be most obnoxious at the exit door to keep my first found booties. I take them with me from home to home and keep them at home in the safe until next year. Next year I’ll have three booties not worn out. Talk about a feeling of wealth!
I’m always happy to go home to my doublewide, put the three well-used booties in the safe, and have freedom for the next 51 weeks.
PS
This year, 2006 we were blessed beyond belief! I worked a dock on a cold, windy and rainy Friday morning. We had six boats all morning to dock. The boats all had their winter curtains up and heaters going so the passengers and crew were toasty warm and dry. There were eight of us on the dock. I was the oldest and slowest so I was able to pull the old trick I learned in the Army. Sat in the dock house and look busy with a pencil and paper pad.
I am proud to say I didn’t go though ONE house. No booties this year for me. I did drive My Honey to all the houses she wanted to tour and sat in the car anticipating her return. After 55 ½ years, waiting for My Honey is my best-learned skill.
The last house we visited, they parked us directly in front of the door in a large parking area paved with brick. Like those English mansions you see on PBS’s Masterpiece Theater. I got out and walked over to a group of men standing on the front porch to see if they were Honey waiting? They were and we had a laugh or two. The bootie box was behind me. I noticed that this year they were black and not blue. The first pair I picked up was big enough for my shoes. I asked why the change to black? I was told that this year all the booties are large since a small shoe would fit in a big bootie and they could never get enough big booties in years past.
I went home, opened the safe, took out the three well-used blue booties and put them in the trashcan.
posted by JackSML | 8:16 PM
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