Daydream

When I become a multi-millionaire, this is what I want: a small apartment in Venice in a quiet neighborhood like Santa Croce.

In general, I have no burning desire for vast wealth. I would like more wealth, of course, enough to buy Rejuvenation light fixtures whenever I want, a house full of antiques, a picket fence for the front yard, and an exterior paint job done by someone other than myself.

But it's only since Venice that I've daydreamed about being one of those fascinating turn-of-the-last-century expatriate writers who set up shop in Venetian palazzos and other fabulous places to write their great novels.

Suddenly it feels so desperately unfair that I can't hop a plane to Europe or Canada or anywhere on a whim. I want to go back so, so badly, and yet I can't! It makes me want to stomp my foot and roll on the floor kicking and screaming!

I admit I was a somewhat spoiled child, and I've grown up into a somewhat spoiled adult. I've been lucky in life and love, and I'm used to getting most anything I want, within reason. And I don't like waiting for it!

So it's particularly painful that my sudden desire to travel long and often - and not just travel but have the time and money to live in Venice or another city for a few months out of the year - cannot be realized. If we continue on our current career paths, we will never be able to afford a $1.5 million apartment in Venice, and we will never have a month to spare to live in it.

But there is something I can do. I can save.

If we set aside 4,000 extra dollars this year, that will pay for another trip. I reevaluated our budget spreadsheet in preparation for the new year, and there are plenty of ways we can cut back. Make that I can cut back. I have an online shopping addiction in need of a 12-step program.

Our bathroom only requires two more purchases - the faucet and the vanity light - and I already have more clothes than one person can wear in a year. So I'm declaring a moratorium on buying.

And instead of spending all my downtime online shopping, maybe I will begin working on my book again. You never know which book will capture the public's imagination; it could be mine. Then I really could become that chic author figure, typety-typing away on that third-floor terrace overlooking the canals and the red roofs of Venice.

Anybody Got a Spare $2,000?

Lately, we've been questioning our decision to use the oak washstand as our bathroom vanity.



First, I had the question about the wood top vs. something more water-proof like marble. Then our friend and neighbor Miss Judy stopped by for a visit and raved about the beautiful old washstand and begged us not to cut a hole in it. Then I started thinking about the further delay cutting holes in the vanity and fitting it for a sink would cause.

So I embarked on on a fact-finding mission. Are there real-wood, furniture-looking vanities in the world?

Why, of course there are, but not - apparently - very many I like. Most of the vanities I found were so-called "French" style ... all scrolls and bulges, lots of ornamentation. Or "hand-painted" with gold or flowers. I'm sure that's perfectly fine for some people, but it's NOT what we want in our simple little bathroom. We want something non-fussy, non-decorator-y.

In all the world I found only two vanities I could tolerate looking at every day. And wouldn't you know it? They're both crazy expensive.

Exhibit A:
I saw this one in the new Restoration Hardware catalog:



It's 32 inches wide in an "espresso" finish, with a white Carrara marble top, undermount sink (faucet not included), and satin-nickel hardware. All for the low low price of $1999.

Exhibit B:
I found this one at Clawfoot Supply:



It's 36 inches wide, made of solid oak with a granite top (small selection of colors), undermount sink (faucet not included) and Stickley-style hardware. The price depends on the granite you choose, or you can choose to buy it without a countertop for $1,326.

What I'd really like is to combine the two - the white marble from the first on the base of the second - and to pay only $500. Ha. I'm still googling and hoping I stumble across a bargain basement bizarro world where solid wood and marble are considered cheapy, and particleboard is the next "it" thing.

I just booked the trip to Italy (we're spending three nights in Florence and two nights in Venice), so the bank account cannot support a $2,000 vanity right now.

Taking Up Space

Since I was out of town last week, and Darwin's been busy with the lawnmower project and we've had auctions and children's birthday parties to attend, basically I have nothing to say about the house.

So I'm taking a page from the book of my middle school self. Back then, my family lived in the middle of 108 acres, and to kill time in the summer, my sister and I rode on a golf cart all over the land, asking each other hypothetical questions and eating those popsicles that are frozen in a clear plastic tube. (Flav-o-Ice?)

I offer you a virtual Flav-O-Ice ... no, sorry, I'm keeping the red one for myself. Would you care for a blue? ... and a few hypothetical (and not so hypothetical) questions:

1. If you could live in another city for a month, where would it be?

My answer:
Venice, Italy. I've been fascinated with Venice ever since I read Palladian Days, and I became even more fascinated when I read The City of Falling Angels. We plan to go there for a vacation one day ... when that day will be I don't know. It's hard to figure out what to do with two cats for a week while we're away. They would not enjoy a kennel.

2. What is the most senseless act of violence you ever committed?

My answer:
I pummeled my sister when she turned off the VCR before the Bryan Adams video for "Everything I Do" could play at the end of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Talk about senseless.

3. What do you wish you could change about your house but can't afford to do any time soon?

My answer:
Remove the aluminum siding on the back half of the house. Removing wouldn't be costly, but we just don't know what's under there. Besides, we already have too many irons in the fire. You know me - I'd just go out on a whim and start ripping stuff off if the calming force of Darwin wasn't here.

4. If you could only change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My answer:
I'll go shallow with this one ... I hate my hands! Weird, right? Who hates their hands? I have these strange tapered fingers that are fat at the bottom and teeny at the top. Ugh. The only ok thing about them is they're just like my mother's and grandmother's. Sorry, Mom. I just insulted your hands.

5. Where is the first place you remember living? (past lives do not count)

My answer:
In the little house where we lived from the time I was 1 to 6. My dad built it mostly himself (guess it's in the genes, huh?), and it was beside a pond, down the road from my grandparents' house. My room had a canopy bed with a lacy white bedspread.

6. What's your favorite constellation?

My answer:
I can never find any constellations, but I like the name Orion. Eutaw has the best night sky view, by the way. Maybe it's because we're out in the country. The sky always seems so bright and packed with stars. When I get home in the winter and it's already dark, sometimes I just stand there and stare up in amazement before I go in the house.

7. What's the most disastrous date you've ever been on?

My answers:
Hmmm, there have been so many. Probably the one where I didn't really like the guy but was afraid to say no, and then spent the whole night trying to keep him from touching me. Oh wait, that describes three-fourths of my dates. Thank goodness for Darwin.

8. What celebrity do you most resemble?

My answer:
The only celebrity I've ever been told I look like is Melissa Joan Hart. You know, the star of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and a teen movie named for a Britney Spears song?

I aim high, folks.

9. If you won the lottery, what would you buy first?

I'd probably hire someone to come finish the bathroom and tile the kitchen countertops. Then I would instantly regret it because surely he would cut a hole in the wrong spot in the wood floor or something gut-wrenching like that.

As for purchases, I would probably go on a handbag and shoe-shopping spree. And clothes. And antiques! Oh the antiques I would buy! Maybe I would need to buy a van to transport all my antiques. Heck, I could just hire someone to deliver it!

Okay, I'm getting carried away. Thinking about endless money always gets me excited.

Now I'm excited to hear your answers! And hey, quit hogging the Flav-O-Ice!