CHAOS AND THE POWER OF BREAD

I don't do chaos.

I think that's partly due to my mom. When I was young, I suffered from the same sickness I now see infecting my daughter--what I call "the need to possess many adorable trinkets and keep them all on display even when the shelves are groaning from the weight of them." And don't even get me started on what my drawers used to look like--my mom has a good story there :)

But my mother taught me that important lesson (in both decorating and life)--Less is More.

And that's translated into a love of order, a love of neatness, a love of going to bed each night with every floor in my home picked up and every counter clear. (We'll just ignore the little thing called The Play Room--pretend it's a bigger version of the drawers in my adolescence.)

Last week, my house was in chaos.

We're having new floors installed in several key rooms of our house, including the master bedroom. Which meant furniture and clothing and books and videos had to be crammed into other rooms and for several nights none of us slept upstairs. It also meant long hours of sawing and pounding and dust settling and, well, all sorts of things that qualify as chaos. I had to use my laptop rather than my desktop, I couldn't take a nap (which is important with this lingering mono), and I couldn't watch whatever I wanted on my very own TV in my very own bedroom.

And into the midst of this cacophony came bread, apples, cheese, and one of my best friends. For several hours Tuesday afternoon we settled on one of many couches in the family room, ignored the hammering upstairs, and talked. Her new baby is an angel and slept in my arms almost the whole time. Her daughter and my son played together and generally left us alone. What better Valentine's week treat could there be?

As I've said before--I've got the best friends in the world.

And a loaf of French bread can cure nearly anything.