The One With the Dream House

What a lot of great guesses I got about my secret ingredient. Most of those things go in most of my food. Cherie was maybe closest. DK and Cambria gave clues, but as they know the real answer, they were nice enough not to give it away. The real secret ingredient is DANGER. A little too much of everything. Pieces of finger cut off with my razor-sharp Cutco knives… batter spilling (or spraying) out of bowls. It gives everything a little zing. That, and Cholula. Thank you for playing. Now I have to get down to the business at hand, which is some very dangerous cooking for 400 guests tomorrow night. Have you ever even seen a 22-pound beef roast? It is not pretty, in its uncooked state. But I need to put that all out of my mind for a minute, and tell you about the dream house.

Skippy and I had an important brainstorming session today. It actually started when we were driving the other day, and Skippy asked me: “Mama, do you love me more than you love Dillon?” So I said, “Why, of course I do, buddy. I love you more than anything.” (Dillon was a little insulted by that—haha!). So today I told Skippy that even if someone offered me a million… no, $50 million dollars, that I would still not trade him.

His reply was, “What if they offered $50 million plus a house and car that was just for you?” Now you’re talking, Skip… Well, long story short we started escalating this imaginary offer, and in the process, came up with a fairly amazing dream house package. We actually never got around to the car. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t care less about cars. This is the dream house: First of all, it overlooks the ocean, with a nice little trail that leads down to a pristine private beach. But the real prize is the house itself, because it has been custom-designed with special rooms for many different tastes and purposes. Among those? There is a music room, of course. But this music room houses a rock band and a symphony orchestra, who are all on-call 24/7. There is an M&M room. It is obviously filled, hip-deep, with M&Ms candies.

There is a Mariachi room. Open the door, and you are greeted by a private mariachi band, every imaginable kind of taco, and virgin margaritas. There is a Missionary Room. This one has a foosball table, ping pong, laundry service, and a living room set up in which there is always a family waiting to hear more lessons. I thought this was funny: I asked Skippy, “How about a movie theater?” He laughed, and said, “You can’t put a movie theater in a house!” I found it interesting that he thought a Mariachi room made sense, but not a movie theater... especially since we live a quarter mile from Coto de Caza, where half the houses have something resembling a movie theater. In our dream house there is also a full basketball court, and on the roof, a swimming pool. Skippy says there is good news and bad news about that. First the bad news: you could fall off. The good news? There is a swimming pool on your roof! And my personal favorite… the maid’s quarters…

So what room would be in your dream house?