One day at a meeting a few months ago, I was telling Ms. Redd about how I was hiring someone to put new floors in my abode. She asked, “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
I said, “I have no clue how to put in wood and tile floors.”
She said, “It’s easy. You just mix the grout, cut the tile, and lay it down.”
I said, “Cut the tile? How do you cut the tile?”
She said, “Don’t you have a tile cutter? I thought everyone had one.”
It was at this moment that I began to see just a glimpse of the genius of Ms. Redd, the modesty in which she conducts herself, and the vast many talents which make her a Renaissance woman. She continued to talk about some of the home improvements she has done. In awe, I said, “I want to see your house. Maybe I can come for dinner some time.”
She said, “How about Christmas?”
I hit the jack pot! Christmas at Ms. Redd’s house. It was too good to be true.
I had thought about going home to Michigan over the break, but Christmas in California with the Italians was an option I couldn’t let slip away—I may never have this opportunity again. Ms. Redd had told me stories about her parents who were born and raised in Italy, but until I experienced the Italian Christmas dinner, I didn’t understand the authenticity with which she spoke. Ms. Redd has a garden in her backyard, which she grows her own tomatoes and herbs. We started with anti-pasta—mozzarella, tomato basil, artichokes. Our salad had feta, prosciutto, salami. Then the lasagna and the fresh bread. By this time, I’m pretty full. Shockingly, there still comes flank steak, rosemary potatoes, balsamic green beans, meatballs, pork…Ms. Redd said, “Everyone slows down by this time. We leave the food out and people snack through the night.” There is cannoli, chocolate layered cake, espresso. She even gives me Glad to-go containers and I eat for days!
Ms. Redd and her daughters have decided to make gifts for each other. She brings out this amazing light fixture made of colored plastic cups and Christmas lights, which looks like it should be the center piece at Studio 54. I told her she could be a millionaire marketing her ideas at shops on Abbot Kinney in Venice.
After seeing her bathroom cabinets she painted to match the sink she bought in Mexico, the tile work she laid in her bath tub (along with the plumbing!), the perfect pottery she made the first time at the wheel—I thought, is there nothing this woman can’t do?
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