Morocco and blog therapy

Dearest blog friends,

Thank you so much for your comments, emails, ecards, and secret surprises on your blogs.  I was so touched by your concern.  Really.  You can't know how much it meant to me.  In fact, it was blog therapy just when I needed it.  So I wallowed in your support all day long.  And then I went and picked some oranges and tangerines from our garden.  And then I watched five-year old Skylar's ballet recital (tiny girls in tutus -- a most potent form of medicine, prescribed in only the most dire of cases.)  And then ...I felt better. 

Now perhaps you are wondering, why was it, exactly, that I was feeling anxious?  Let me explain. The night before last, Chris and I were invited to a dinner party of some darling Swedish/French friends of ours who run a small and very lovely guest house.  While they have been encouraging of our project and love Chris's designs, this was the night that they chose to tell us *the way it is* in the guest house business.  This is what they told us:

* We needed to be prepared to operate at a significant loss for a significant period of time.  Did we have adequate reserves for at least the first two-three years?  **We needed to set aside at least $25,000 Euros ($30,000) for linens. ***We needed more gardeners. (They have 4 full-time gardeners and their land is a third in size of ours).  ****We needed a major marketing strategy. We needed to start now. *****Many other panic-inducing facts which required multiple refillings of my hot mulled wine. (The Swedish recipe for this includes vodka.  I thank the Swedes for their forethought.)

As I listened, I felt a sensation that seemed remarkably similar to fear.  I felt a moment - many moments - of doubt.  I realized that at times, I was actually holding my breath.  I felt ill.

And so ever since that night, I can't help wondering, you see, about one thing.  I can't stop asking myself one question.  What if we build it, and nobody comes?