When you read the following, bear in mind that she means well. My mother, I mean. She just can't help herself. And apparently, neither can I.

Here's a fascinating detail for you: I'm thinking about slipcovering the cushions on my boat. I know, that's exactly the kind of scoop you're looking for, so get a pen and write it down. See, I know that's not true, except that I off-handedly mentioned the cushion-recovering project last week to my mother via e-mail, and she has apparently been obsessing about it ever since. I appreciate the mental energy expended on my behalf (kind of), but it's getting out of control.

It started when I mentioned, as I said, off-handedly that the cushions on the boat were drab and grey, and that I hoped to re-cover them (i.e., have someone else re-cover them, because I have neither the time nor the necessary skill for that project) but hadn't found the right fabric yet. This prompted the following comment from Martha (that's my mom):

"I can just picture it, with beautiful tropical print fabric in warm, butter yellow and russet and green, with soft lighting from sconces..."

OK, now I never mentioned any kind of color scheme or lighting design, so her description is totally imaginary, and designed to subtly guide me toward what she feels would be appropriate. (I have lots of practice interpreting Martha-speak.)

I wrote back saying that no, I probably wouldn't go with the tropical theme, being that I don't live in the tropics, and don't wish to be mistaken for a Jimmy Buffett devotee. To ward off further suggestions, I included a list of other types of fabrics I'd ruled out, as follows:

1. Stripes -- hideous. Or if not hideous, then too formal. Or too informal. Let's just go back to "hideous" and leave it at that.
2. Dots of any kind -- no. Makes you seem "crazy."
3. Swimming fish/coral/under-the-sea -- I was for this category, until
   someone pointed out that it really has a "bathroom" kind of vibe. Like a
   1950s bathroom. Maybe if I find a good coral print, I could use that. I sure do like coral, Errol.
4. Anything resembling the upholstery at a major medical facility -- I would like people to not feel like they are waiting for test results when they come over for cocktails.
5. Tapestry -- I realize this is a popular genre, and while tapestries featuring road signs or jungle animals certainly seem to be widely loved in this part of the world, I cannot join that particular parade, because the next step is puffy-painting my own sweatshirts.
6. Abundant florals -- Bobby Trendy and/or crazy.
7. Toile -- Aging socialite. This is tough, because I really do love certain toiles de jouy, but they are heavily overdone at the moment, and real French toile is very expensive and I know the Keelhauler would NOT appreciate re-doing the cushions in a Parisian Hot Air Balloon motif, or whatever, in mustard and aubergine. (Deeply unfair. I know he will also veto the chandelier.)
8. Damask, moire', chenille -- Requires accompanying portrait of Liberace. No.
9. Everything else -- too fragile, too rugged, too sheer, too ethnic, too coarse, too fuzzy, too close to burlap.

You will notice that I cleverly ruled out essentially every type of fabric on earth. This did not pose a challenge to Martha, who was silent for a day or two, then responded with this, today:

"I keep thinking about your upholstery dilemma.

"How about going up to Uncle Jack's [note: that's my uncle, who lives atop a mountain--I think she's suggesting it because the property is very large, but in reality, the property is atop a mountain and difficult to get to] with a big blue plastic tarp, some painter's drop canvases and a few cans of water-based house paint and some buckets to mix them in, and paint stripes and maybe splashes. You could even dilute the paint a little. It would all be washable and permanent. I would think you could buy canvas in reasonably light weights. You'd have to cut it up and pre-shrink in hot, hot water, though."

She went on to suggest that I make extra fabric for piping, which indicates to me that she believes I will be the one sewing the slipcovers.

You have to admire a mind like that. There is no problem she cannot solve!

Recently, my brother and his wife were looking for color combinations to paint their house, and selected a deep, rich green that they liked. They were all set to move ahead when my mother confessed that she was "very worried" about the proposed color, and suggested that my brother tape plastic garbage bags--the heavy, dark green kind--onto the side of the house, to make sure that it would look all right. "I'm just afraid it will look like a pizzeria!" she claimed. I don't know of many pizzerias housed in beautiful three-story farmhouses, but I helpfully suggested that my brother get a neon sign advertising Pabst, in case he decides to open for business.

I forwarded Martha's message to my sister-in-law, to show solidarity for the garbage bag incident, and she responded with several of her own great decorating suggestions, including: beach towels; tar; the cut-off legs from the Keelhauler's pants; gas-station pennants; and a re-creation of the interior of the apartment from the TV show "Too Close for Comfort."

As of this writing, the grey cushions remain in place. If you have any suggestions for their replacement, please feel free to forward them, and I'll add them to the list.

P.S.

My brother's house is newly painted dark green, and looks spectacular.

Star of the day. . .Rube Goldberg