Sunday, November 27, 2011


I think all of us, no matter how satisfied we are with our lives, have a tendency to dream about things that may be out of our reach for the moment. We're only human, right?  I hope it's not just me that does this.  Let me further explain.  I love my home.  I love where I live.  I luh-uv my husband and child, and I love the friends that surround me.  However, that doesn't mean I can't dream from afar, right?

I can still dream about the things that I truthfully don't pine away for, but may still drool over if given the opportunity.  For instance, I don't pine for the perfect piece of pizza, but if presented with the perfect piece of pizza, I may drool over it.  Do you see where I'm going with this?

Case in point, let's discuss all the cute homes that I saw while staying with my mother-in-law in New Jersey this past week.   Each day, as we drove to our destination, we would pass homes that I would completely fall in love with.  Every day I would tell Martin to go a specific route so that I could see the homes that I had seen the day before, just because....  And every day I would systematically say to Martin, "I want that one! Yes, if given the choice, that is the one I want!"   Then, I would quickly change my mind as we drove by the next perfect home.  "No, that is the one I want!"  I couldn't decide if I wanted Americana, French Chateaux, Nantucket style or a Cottage style?  Did I want the wraparound porch or the rounded roof with the stained glass windows?  Maybe both!

Truthfully, I couldn't decide, because basically, if given the choice, I would have taken them all.  If I was a heiress, or maybe royalty, I would have purchased the whole town!  When I covet, I covet for the impossible—so it all balances out in the end, because then reality kicks in and I just don't have that kind of money, silly!  So, even though I am totally content with the life I have been given, some times I still pine.

This brings me to my next thought.  When I look at homes, whether I like it or not, I get a sense that each home carries it's own attitude with it. While I drove by the homes in the neck of New Jersey where we were residing, I thought of  how each one was descriptive of the people (particularly the women) that dwelled within it's walls.  I would imagine these perfect, well-manicured women living in their perfect, well-manicured homes, and I pined for that life.  The homes and the women that occupied them seemed unattainable with unimaginably perfect lives. I envied those "homes" when compared to mine.

Certainly, the type of women that lived in these homes never had stains on their coat sleeves or smack dab in the middle of their chests because their child considered them to be a human napkin.  They probably ALWAYS had their shirts tucked in neatly into the back of their pants, and not a one of them had thighs bigger than my pinky.  They all woke up each day with hair that was easy to style and only needed a touch of mascara to help them look more alert. NONE of them ever needed to fill up their tanks with gas or their refrigerator's with milk and perfect produce.  I imagined all of these women in these perfect homes, wearing Herm├Ęs scarves around their necks with their perfectly shaped calves and perfectly shaped nail beds.  Of course, they wouldn't dream of having dry skin that resembled that of an elephants, and I am sure they each took bubble baths every night in their clawfooted bathtubs.  Oh, and don't forget a VERY important detail, which is; that none of these women probably ever gained a pound when they were pregnant.  I. KNOW. IT!

Frankly, if I am going to get personal here. I'm sure that NOT A ONE of these ladies spent endless hours with doctors and physical therapists, and all of their children walked and talked and met their individual milestones.  I'm positive that all of them had a perfect game plan when it came to their child's future or for their daughter's wedding.  Their homes and their made up lives in my mind's eye, seemed so perfect.  So far from mine.

Finally, after about the 3rd day,  I calmed myself down and got a grip.  I said out loud, looking into the mirror, "Why are you getting yourself all worked up over this?  You live in Utah, not New Jersey! You have a great life, a husband who loves you and a daughter that you adore!  You need to stop all this nonsense!"  I knew I was being nonsensical, and I knew this really wasn't a life that I wanted.  My life does not reside in a JCrew catalog.  My thighs will always touch, and my cuticle's will always be uneven.  In fact, I've always kinda liked the imperfections.  They make up the person that I am—they give me my sense of humor about life. My imperfections have taught me, in a sense, when I should and shouldn't take myself or life too seriously.  My home, although lovely, doesn't define who I am and how I really live.  It is merely a roof and a place to gather the things and more importantly, the people that I love.  No, my perfect life isn't in Mahwah, New Jersey living by the lake, it is in Salt Lake City, by the canyon, in Utah.  I like it, in fact, I love it, and I love me... for the most part. wink.

At the end of it all, when my life is about to be finished here in this mortal life, I know, I KNOW I wouldn't have wanted to have changed anything in the world for what I have now.

So, as much as I pine after things I know I'll never have or really ever want, I'm still allowed to at least dream.

In spite of the harsh lesson that I had with myself, I thought I should at least SHOW you some of the dreamy homes we would pass by each day. So you can drool alongside with me.

Dream Home #1
*Note: The pictures don't really do these homes justice.  Most of them were on an acre of land and backed up against a lake.  If they looked like this during the throes of Fall turning into Winter, can you imagine what they look like in the Spring?

Dream Home #2
At first, I cropped the front walkway out of the photo so you could get a closer look at the house. Then I realized that the walkway is what adds to the charm, so I put it back in the picture.

This home had a beautiful glass-encased sun porch on the back of it that looked over the lake.  I wanted to be sitting in that sun roofed room in the worst way.

Dreamy, Dream Home #3
I call this my dreamy, dream house.  At first look, I thought it was a barn. Then I drove by again and saw that it had a white barn adjacent to it with a beautiful Bay horse being brushed by it's presumed owner, or for that matter, the Help.  The home was just quaint and had windows that were all along the back of the house overlooking the lake.  It was dreamy.

Dream Home #4
When we drove by this house on Thanksgiving Day, the family was outside playing, "Flag Football."  Each family member was dressed in what looked to be straight from Land's End's Fall catalog.  Every one of them was either in a rugby shirt or wearing a barn jacket. Not kidding.  It was so cliche' and I loved it.

My favorite thing about this house was the orange accented doors.  Orange front entrance, side entrance, shed entrance. Orange! It was fantastic.

Dream Home #5
This house grew on me when I drove by it for a third time.  Right before I took the photo a Russian hound went running across the lawn to meet it's owner who was driving a white VW Toureg with what I believed to be the Burberry quilted jacket.  A must for the upper-class trying to resemble the middle-class.  I own one, but I am still just middle-class, middle-of-the-road, just middle.  Which I'm fine with.  Or, maybe I want a white Toureg.  I have to think about that one...

Dream Home #6 - The Dream of All Dreams!
This is the last of my dreamy homes tour of New Jersey.  This home was my actual DREAM home and I am just sorry that this photo doesn't do it justice.  You see, when I got out to take the photo, I didn't realize that the owner was at his mailbox in his green 2011 Jaguar looking straight at me.  I was horrified and yelped at my mother-in-law to quickly drive away.  Then I had her drive me back later as I hung myself out the passenger window to take a picture as she sped by.  Dignity is not a main necessity at moments like this. Martin would have been horrified.

Oh and when the owner saw me, I was trying to get a picture of the back porch (that was magnificent) and the front window that was over the rounded front porch.  The details were out of this world.  I'm just sorry that you can't see them any closer than this.  Don't worry, in my best German-American accent, "I'll be back"

One more thing.  If you are a Housewives of New Jersey watcher (That's right, regretfully I watch it. Not my proudest admission.) Anyway, I couldn't be in Franklin Lakes without paying a visit to our friend, Caroline Manzo's home.  In fact, I even went to the strip mall that has the shop, Wayne's Posche Boutique (Yes, that's Posche) owned by Kim D. I'm pathetic.  I know.
The NJ Housewives and the sign welcoming me as I drove into NJ Housewives territory.  I even got out of my 
car to snap the picture.  I was that serious.
Caroline Manzo's house. I'm a stalker.  
Yes, I am horrified with myself as well.

Will I ever learn?  Let's hope, but until then, I can dream.