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?
