Once upon a time, I lived with three of my girlfriends in a house that was falling down. Like the three little pigs, but we likely had less to eat. These were the salad days — I was out of college, working my tail off to make ends meet. They were still in college, working their tails off to make ends meet.
We had a lot of fun that year, including hosting Mini’s wedding shower and seeing Rebecca get engaged. We also all sat on Kacey’s denim blue couch and watched as the towers fell, one after the other on that bright blue Tuesday morning in 2001. Six weeks later, we were on the same couch watching as our hometown Arizona Diamondbacks took the World Series.
It was a strange, terrifying and exhilarating time. I loved living with those girls. We came up with the most ridiculous reasons to have people over, including craft outings — like painting pots. One afternoon our living room was full of young women wielding paint brushes. Terra cotta be damned! The results were pathetic, but fun was had all the same.
As such, I can’t paint a pot today without thinking of the Broadmoor. So many fun memories in that crazy, rambling house.
Far from perfect, but perfection is so overrated. They’ll be filled with succulent starts soon enough.