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I love a Parade
Oct. 4th, 2004 07:11 pmOn Sunday Tery and I went with OurFriendDeb to Denver's Parade of Homes. I figure it will be challenging to produce an entertaining journal entry about walking through houses, but I plan to mock the fabulously wealthy at the same time (not out of envy, mind you. What on earth would I do with money beyond reckoning? I'd much rather stay where I am, keepin' it real for my homies.)
The Parade of Homes is a chance for poor shlubs like me, up to our eyeballs in debt, to tour million-dollar homes without involving security personnel of any type. Last year was my first experience of this phenomenon, and just like I can't get enough of watching HGTV's myriad of decorating shows and getting a peek into other people's houses, it is oddly satisfying and entertaining to walk through homes that I could probably never afford even if I did give up such luxuries as food and heat in the winter for my entire life (even retroactively). These houses aren't filthy rich like the Newport mansions, just stinking rich, like families with incomes of $100,000 or more might live in. I feel more than a little bad for the people standing in each room waiting to sell their wares (as the homes are a showcase for builders), forced to give their spiel to our ragtag little group, knowing damn well that we can't even afford the property taxes on such a spread. Deb had the idea that people like us should get a big red stamp on our foreheads, like a big "L" for "looking," or perhaps "loser," so they can save their breath.
We went on Sunday for a reason. Last year Deb and I went on a weekday and there were about 20 other people also taking the tour, and our biggest annoyance was one exceptionally loud, pushy woman that seemed to turn up everywhere we went. This year to accomodate Tery's schedule it had to be on the weekend, so we figured first thing Sunday morning perhaps all the churchgoing people would be going to church and thin the herd. Apparently there are a lot more godless sinners in Colorado than we thought, because by the time we were half done with the first house there was a crowd of what seemed like 100 people there, none of whom had any regard whatsoever for the concept of personal space. My stress level goes through the roof in situations like this; I intensely dislike being touched by strangers, even an accidental brushing by, and being stuck elbow-to-elbow with no escape route is just intolerable to me.
So I had the brilliant idea of hiking down to the last house on the tour and working our way backwards. Thankfully (and not surprisingly) no one else caught on to this and we were relatively unmolested for about three houses. Inevitably we caught up with the throng in the second house, which naturally was also the smallest, a paltry 4400 square feet. I was dealing until I walked past a woman who somehow managed to full-on grab my right breast as she passed. I'm sure it was accidental, but I prefer to at least be on a first-name basis before someone gets to second base with me. I told Tery and Deb about it in the car and Tery jokingly pretended to reach for my chest and exclaim, "I love the textures in this house!" But enough about my sexcapades....onto the houses.
There were only five homes this year (last year there were eight), and they all had their nice little features, but one stood out heads above the rest. The judges agreed too, as it won 11 of the 12 awards presented. It was the "Eureka!" house, designed with a Colorado mining/motorcycle theme in mind. It's called the "mining house," but the first thing we saw as we entered the front courtyard was a garage just for your motorcycle (apart from the standard 3-car set apart from this). Motorcycle decor runs throughout the house, including an awesome ceiling fan with translucent blades affixed to a chrome motorcycle headlamp in the gym. The courtyard fountain was water running down a rusty motorcycle gear chain and the railing of the main staircase inside was a thick rope cable. But these weren't the award-winning features, not by a long shot. When you entered the front door, the first thing you saw was a gorgeous, outdoor living room looking straight out to the mountains, unimpeded by windows or walls of any kind. There was a huge, telescoping glass wall that could be closed in the winter obviously. In the middle of this was a copper bowl (LOL I typed "bowel" first) fountain that extended through the floor to the downstairs patio. There was a similar, smaller fountain that the main staircase wrapped around. In addition to the main spiral staircase were two others, a hidden back stair that came out in the wine cellar behind the bar, as well as one between the his/hers (or hers/hers) upstairs/downstairs walk-in closets. There was a room called the "jewelry box" that was lined 100% with red velvet so you felt like you were inside a jewelry box. Everything else was similarly expansive and gorgeous, with a greatroom incorporating the open kitchen and living room area done tastefully in all oranges and reds (mining theme), a 2-floor master bedroom with a small loft sitting area with a perfect view of the mountains, and a billiard room with built-in loveseat, cafe tables and 3 flat-screen plasma TVs on one wall (so you never have to miss a single sports event, ever). The gym wasn't as nice as the one in the second house with its attached sauna and walking lap closet (I kid you not! Looks like a closet, but it's just a corridor that goes in a circle to walk or run laps!) but still beats my Bowflex that has to be packed up out of the way after every use.
But enough of the descriptions. I feel the urge to mock. Mostly it is just impossible to imagine the lifestyle required to live in a place like this. First and foremost, with over 6,000 square feet (compared to our barely 1,000 we have now), we could conceivably go days or weeks without ever seeing one of our ferrets, or even each other. Secondly, I can't imagine when I would find the time to enjoy my "sky lounge" in my bedroom suite, just sitting and admiring the countryside, without getting restless pretty quickly. Rich people are busy too, aren't they? Third, I see absolutely no use whatsoever for a full bathroom just for the den. There I am, working away at my desk, when suddenly I am overcome with such an urgent need to shower that I can't even make it to the main bathroom to do it (which granted in this house is about a mile and a half away). I mean, come on. A common scoffing point in these houses is the placement of bathrooms, full, 3/4 or half. Rich folk must have small bladders indeed to want to make sure they never have to walk more than 10 feet to get to a bathroom. The wine cellar was nice, but the racks easily held close to 200 bottles. I can't picture ever owning 200 bottles of wine, but I am sure Tery could. Naturally the house has a sound system with speakers in every room and out on the patio. Unfortunately, the console for it is down in the basement. You'd have to be pretty committed to your CD choices before leaving them so far behind (but naturally I would have a 100-disc player in that case).
I realize most of my jokes about the impracticality of the house would be moot if I could actually afford to buy it. I can't help picturing where I would do my transcription work if I lived there, but of course I wouldn't be working that $7-an-hour job at all. Maintaining such a place is a daunting task, until remembering that if I lived there I would no doubt have some kind of hired help. Where would I put the computer in such a huge house? Easy, silly, I could afford 10 laptops and just scatter them about the house, perhaps one in every bathroom. How would you pay to heat such a place? I would be like my father, obsessively closing off rooms and only using a third of the living space. The lifestyle I have right now would be extremely difficult to work into such a structure, so I suppose it is fitting that the lifestyle I have now all but ensures I will never have to worry about that particular problem. There just seems to be such an enormous, gaping chasm separating me from that world, I might as well be living on a different planet.
Of course the downside of this little adventure is having to leave and return to our lower-middle-class existence. Don't get me wrong, our condo suits us just fine and we love it the rest of the year. It is the perfect size for two people (and two ferrets...and two cats...and a bird now) and has lots of nice features that give it character while being comfortable. We don't need walkie-talkies to communicate. It is virtually impossible to get lost in. True, I do have to go all the way downstairs to pee, but we only have one bathroom to clean. But that's how we live, chillin' and keepin' it real.....
(My apologies to anyone who does live in a million-dollar home reading this who might be offended. But a substantial monetary donation would go a long way towards changing my attitude, I'm sure....)
-=Lainey=-
The Parade of Homes is a chance for poor shlubs like me, up to our eyeballs in debt, to tour million-dollar homes without involving security personnel of any type. Last year was my first experience of this phenomenon, and just like I can't get enough of watching HGTV's myriad of decorating shows and getting a peek into other people's houses, it is oddly satisfying and entertaining to walk through homes that I could probably never afford even if I did give up such luxuries as food and heat in the winter for my entire life (even retroactively). These houses aren't filthy rich like the Newport mansions, just stinking rich, like families with incomes of $100,000 or more might live in. I feel more than a little bad for the people standing in each room waiting to sell their wares (as the homes are a showcase for builders), forced to give their spiel to our ragtag little group, knowing damn well that we can't even afford the property taxes on such a spread. Deb had the idea that people like us should get a big red stamp on our foreheads, like a big "L" for "looking," or perhaps "loser," so they can save their breath.
We went on Sunday for a reason. Last year Deb and I went on a weekday and there were about 20 other people also taking the tour, and our biggest annoyance was one exceptionally loud, pushy woman that seemed to turn up everywhere we went. This year to accomodate Tery's schedule it had to be on the weekend, so we figured first thing Sunday morning perhaps all the churchgoing people would be going to church and thin the herd. Apparently there are a lot more godless sinners in Colorado than we thought, because by the time we were half done with the first house there was a crowd of what seemed like 100 people there, none of whom had any regard whatsoever for the concept of personal space. My stress level goes through the roof in situations like this; I intensely dislike being touched by strangers, even an accidental brushing by, and being stuck elbow-to-elbow with no escape route is just intolerable to me.
So I had the brilliant idea of hiking down to the last house on the tour and working our way backwards. Thankfully (and not surprisingly) no one else caught on to this and we were relatively unmolested for about three houses. Inevitably we caught up with the throng in the second house, which naturally was also the smallest, a paltry 4400 square feet. I was dealing until I walked past a woman who somehow managed to full-on grab my right breast as she passed. I'm sure it was accidental, but I prefer to at least be on a first-name basis before someone gets to second base with me. I told Tery and Deb about it in the car and Tery jokingly pretended to reach for my chest and exclaim, "I love the textures in this house!" But enough about my sexcapades....onto the houses.
There were only five homes this year (last year there were eight), and they all had their nice little features, but one stood out heads above the rest. The judges agreed too, as it won 11 of the 12 awards presented. It was the "Eureka!" house, designed with a Colorado mining/motorcycle theme in mind. It's called the "mining house," but the first thing we saw as we entered the front courtyard was a garage just for your motorcycle (apart from the standard 3-car set apart from this). Motorcycle decor runs throughout the house, including an awesome ceiling fan with translucent blades affixed to a chrome motorcycle headlamp in the gym. The courtyard fountain was water running down a rusty motorcycle gear chain and the railing of the main staircase inside was a thick rope cable. But these weren't the award-winning features, not by a long shot. When you entered the front door, the first thing you saw was a gorgeous, outdoor living room looking straight out to the mountains, unimpeded by windows or walls of any kind. There was a huge, telescoping glass wall that could be closed in the winter obviously. In the middle of this was a copper bowl (LOL I typed "bowel" first) fountain that extended through the floor to the downstairs patio. There was a similar, smaller fountain that the main staircase wrapped around. In addition to the main spiral staircase were two others, a hidden back stair that came out in the wine cellar behind the bar, as well as one between the his/hers (or hers/hers) upstairs/downstairs walk-in closets. There was a room called the "jewelry box" that was lined 100% with red velvet so you felt like you were inside a jewelry box. Everything else was similarly expansive and gorgeous, with a greatroom incorporating the open kitchen and living room area done tastefully in all oranges and reds (mining theme), a 2-floor master bedroom with a small loft sitting area with a perfect view of the mountains, and a billiard room with built-in loveseat, cafe tables and 3 flat-screen plasma TVs on one wall (so you never have to miss a single sports event, ever). The gym wasn't as nice as the one in the second house with its attached sauna and walking lap closet (I kid you not! Looks like a closet, but it's just a corridor that goes in a circle to walk or run laps!) but still beats my Bowflex that has to be packed up out of the way after every use.
But enough of the descriptions. I feel the urge to mock. Mostly it is just impossible to imagine the lifestyle required to live in a place like this. First and foremost, with over 6,000 square feet (compared to our barely 1,000 we have now), we could conceivably go days or weeks without ever seeing one of our ferrets, or even each other. Secondly, I can't imagine when I would find the time to enjoy my "sky lounge" in my bedroom suite, just sitting and admiring the countryside, without getting restless pretty quickly. Rich people are busy too, aren't they? Third, I see absolutely no use whatsoever for a full bathroom just for the den. There I am, working away at my desk, when suddenly I am overcome with such an urgent need to shower that I can't even make it to the main bathroom to do it (which granted in this house is about a mile and a half away). I mean, come on. A common scoffing point in these houses is the placement of bathrooms, full, 3/4 or half. Rich folk must have small bladders indeed to want to make sure they never have to walk more than 10 feet to get to a bathroom. The wine cellar was nice, but the racks easily held close to 200 bottles. I can't picture ever owning 200 bottles of wine, but I am sure Tery could. Naturally the house has a sound system with speakers in every room and out on the patio. Unfortunately, the console for it is down in the basement. You'd have to be pretty committed to your CD choices before leaving them so far behind (but naturally I would have a 100-disc player in that case).
I realize most of my jokes about the impracticality of the house would be moot if I could actually afford to buy it. I can't help picturing where I would do my transcription work if I lived there, but of course I wouldn't be working that $7-an-hour job at all. Maintaining such a place is a daunting task, until remembering that if I lived there I would no doubt have some kind of hired help. Where would I put the computer in such a huge house? Easy, silly, I could afford 10 laptops and just scatter them about the house, perhaps one in every bathroom. How would you pay to heat such a place? I would be like my father, obsessively closing off rooms and only using a third of the living space. The lifestyle I have right now would be extremely difficult to work into such a structure, so I suppose it is fitting that the lifestyle I have now all but ensures I will never have to worry about that particular problem. There just seems to be such an enormous, gaping chasm separating me from that world, I might as well be living on a different planet.
Of course the downside of this little adventure is having to leave and return to our lower-middle-class existence. Don't get me wrong, our condo suits us just fine and we love it the rest of the year. It is the perfect size for two people (and two ferrets...and two cats...and a bird now) and has lots of nice features that give it character while being comfortable. We don't need walkie-talkies to communicate. It is virtually impossible to get lost in. True, I do have to go all the way downstairs to pee, but we only have one bathroom to clean. But that's how we live, chillin' and keepin' it real.....
(My apologies to anyone who does live in a million-dollar home reading this who might be offended. But a substantial monetary donation would go a long way towards changing my attitude, I'm sure....)
-=Lainey=-