If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as the Barefoot Contessa. OK, I don't want to BE her, I just want a life like hers.
Oh, boy. That huge house in the Hamptons, those incessant picnics on the beach or in one of her lush gardens. How about a progressive dinner, with appetizers on the side porch, dinner on the front porch, and dessert on the other side porch. Ah, luxury.
The Contessa would have us believe that she's just another housewife, working out of her home. Actually,cooking is her hobby, and catering to her equally rich friends is a way to fill her idle hours.
I don't for one minute think she keeps that house and her gardens looking picture perfect by herself. I'm sure those impeccably clean hands have never held a dust rag. We never see them, but I'll bet she leaves all the real work to "staff". "Oh, Jorge, it's time to take the table and chairs down to the beach for the luncheon. Lupe, you go with him and set the table, and don't forget the centerpiece this time!"
I'd love to be able to run just down the road to the gourmet grocery and wine shop, then back to the kitchen, where I would whip up a fantastic Friday night dinner for a husband, who has been in the city, working, all week, and comes home on most weekends. Imagine being married for forty years to a man you've hardly ever seen. Heaven! Even I might have managed forty years of marriage that way.
If the Contessa doesn't lead a charmed life, I don't want to hear about it. I just want to go on fantasizing about the kind of life she projects on television.
Yep, I wanna be just like her in my next life, only maybe a little taller and a little thinner. Oh, and I wouldn't laugh like that, either.
Bitter, table for one?