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grrgoylHere it is, the Parade of Homes 2010 season finale: 6.3 miiiiiiiiiiillion dollars!
Amazingly, this house had no name either. Deb wanted to call it "The Lodge," which coincidentally is the old name of her shitty low-rent apartment complex. I preferred "Park Meadows," which is the local lodge-style shopping mall that this looks almost exactly like (except not so many store fronts). Also, I could have gone crazy with all the pictures I took, but it turns out most of the rooms looked not that much fancier from rooms in other higher-end homes on the tour.
Nestled in White Deer Valley (very close to Deer Creek Canyon), this is the view from the front of The Lodge
And the house itself (with outbuilding)
Front walkway
Visitors to The Lodge had to remove their shoes, an even more disturbing feeling than wearing Hazmat booties
The Lodge's doorbell. Still doesn't thrill me for 6 large
The great room as you first enter
Formal dining room with spectacular view (although the front door was literally right there where that person is standing. I will never understand a formal dining room being the very first thing you see when you walk into a house)
The exception to the "not much fancier" comment is this master bath. If it looks a bit unnatural, stupid me didn't use my flash in most of these pictures and I had to digitally brighten it the best I could
The spa tub sunken into the floor can only be used by the very limber, though
Love this reading window nook
Unique wooden sink that looks like a giant walnut
We were hoping they just didn't attach hardware to this small chest of drawers, because otherwise there was no discernible way to open them
Had a definite hunting theme going on
Love this mantel though
And wall art
Cozy little TV nook that has a fireplace/TV combo I could live with
Kitchen, with another island you could park a car on
LOVE
At this point, we honestly thought we had seen the entire house. I said, "I mean, it's nice and all, but for $6.3 million? A bit small." Then we remembered where we'd left the staircase to the basement.
Quite grand wrought iron railing. The branches snaked all the way up
Pool table with vaguely Native American inspired pockets
Projection screen home theater. Someone actually gave some thought to what it looks like with the screen retracted
Unlike this couch, which provided zero back support. Great for watching movies on the ceiling
Every room had stunning views except this dank guest room. Where you put people you don't like all that much
In a house that seemed to have every last detail thought out, sat this plain steel gray (locked) door. It was like a portal to another dimension, it looked so out of place
Love
As we left, I asked the attendant, "Will you take $100,000?" She sportingly laughed, though I'm sure she hears a similar joke twenty times a day.
The Lodge's backyard
The driveway was literally 900 feet long and uphill (or downhill) all the way. Bet it's a joy in winter
Of course, the irony of The Lodge is, despite being surrounded by vast tracts of open land on all sides, pets could never leave the house due to the hawk and coyote population that love to snatch and eat them. Our cats get more fresh air here on our tiny balcony in suburban Aurora.
One last bit: As we walked down the 900-foot driveway, Deb stopped and looked back at the house quizzically. She thought maybe we hadn't gone all the way to the end of one wing, maybe missed a secret door or something. Just at that moment, a kid inside the house started screaming bloody murder that we could hear halfway down the hill. As Deb stared and stared, I said, "It's moot now, because there's no way in hell I'm going back in with THAT ruckus going on."
And that does it for another year.
I just have to say, 5000 sq ft sounds like a nice amount of space (well, The Lodge is actually 6400). But I picture Tery and me living in one of these houses and, let's face it, probably only using half the rooms on a regular basis. I had a memory the other day of growing up in my family's modest 1500 sq ft house with four of us. In the evenings we would all sit in the family room. Because my parents grew up in the Depression, every other light in the house would be off, creating a spooky darkness outside our cozy little oasis. If we had to pee or get a snack, we would run as fast as we could and snap the light on in the other room before anything could get us.
This was before I grew up and developed valid security issues, like I have now. Like thinking about someone hiding in one of those dark rooms on the other side of my 5000 sq ft house without me ever noticing. Sure, it's crazy, but I'm sticking with it and staying perfectly happy with my small, manageable and easily secured condo. As if I need to talk myself out of buying a $500,000 house when going to a movie theater these days is a shamefully irresponsible indulgence for me.
Amazingly, this house had no name either. Deb wanted to call it "The Lodge," which coincidentally is the old name of her shitty low-rent apartment complex. I preferred "Park Meadows," which is the local lodge-style shopping mall that this looks almost exactly like (except not so many store fronts). Also, I could have gone crazy with all the pictures I took, but it turns out most of the rooms looked not that much fancier from rooms in other higher-end homes on the tour.
Nestled in White Deer Valley (very close to Deer Creek Canyon), this is the view from the front of The Lodge
And the house itself (with outbuilding)
Front walkway
Visitors to The Lodge had to remove their shoes, an even more disturbing feeling than wearing Hazmat booties
The Lodge's doorbell. Still doesn't thrill me for 6 large
The great room as you first enter
Formal dining room with spectacular view (although the front door was literally right there where that person is standing. I will never understand a formal dining room being the very first thing you see when you walk into a house)
The exception to the "not much fancier" comment is this master bath. If it looks a bit unnatural, stupid me didn't use my flash in most of these pictures and I had to digitally brighten it the best I could
The spa tub sunken into the floor can only be used by the very limber, though
Love this reading window nook
Unique wooden sink that looks like a giant walnut
We were hoping they just didn't attach hardware to this small chest of drawers, because otherwise there was no discernible way to open them
Had a definite hunting theme going on
Love this mantel though
And wall art
Cozy little TV nook that has a fireplace/TV combo I could live with
Kitchen, with another island you could park a car on
LOVE
At this point, we honestly thought we had seen the entire house. I said, "I mean, it's nice and all, but for $6.3 million? A bit small." Then we remembered where we'd left the staircase to the basement.
Quite grand wrought iron railing. The branches snaked all the way up
Pool table with vaguely Native American inspired pockets
Projection screen home theater. Someone actually gave some thought to what it looks like with the screen retracted
Unlike this couch, which provided zero back support. Great for watching movies on the ceiling
Every room had stunning views except this dank guest room. Where you put people you don't like all that much
In a house that seemed to have every last detail thought out, sat this plain steel gray (locked) door. It was like a portal to another dimension, it looked so out of place
Love
As we left, I asked the attendant, "Will you take $100,000?" She sportingly laughed, though I'm sure she hears a similar joke twenty times a day.
The Lodge's backyard
The driveway was literally 900 feet long and uphill (or downhill) all the way. Bet it's a joy in winter
Of course, the irony of The Lodge is, despite being surrounded by vast tracts of open land on all sides, pets could never leave the house due to the hawk and coyote population that love to snatch and eat them. Our cats get more fresh air here on our tiny balcony in suburban Aurora.
One last bit: As we walked down the 900-foot driveway, Deb stopped and looked back at the house quizzically. She thought maybe we hadn't gone all the way to the end of one wing, maybe missed a secret door or something. Just at that moment, a kid inside the house started screaming bloody murder that we could hear halfway down the hill. As Deb stared and stared, I said, "It's moot now, because there's no way in hell I'm going back in with THAT ruckus going on."
And that does it for another year.
I just have to say, 5000 sq ft sounds like a nice amount of space (well, The Lodge is actually 6400). But I picture Tery and me living in one of these houses and, let's face it, probably only using half the rooms on a regular basis. I had a memory the other day of growing up in my family's modest 1500 sq ft house with four of us. In the evenings we would all sit in the family room. Because my parents grew up in the Depression, every other light in the house would be off, creating a spooky darkness outside our cozy little oasis. If we had to pee or get a snack, we would run as fast as we could and snap the light on in the other room before anything could get us.
This was before I grew up and developed valid security issues, like I have now. Like thinking about someone hiding in one of those dark rooms on the other side of my 5000 sq ft house without me ever noticing. Sure, it's crazy, but I'm sticking with it and staying perfectly happy with my small, manageable and easily secured condo. As if I need to talk myself out of buying a $500,000 house when going to a movie theater these days is a shamefully irresponsible indulgence for me.
