Wow! That was a long blog silence for me. I did lots of things this weekend, most of them pleasant, none of them blogging. I haven't even had a chance to read the papers — and won't for another hour — so I have nothing of substance to say. I'll just leave you with a thought. Although not having wealth myself, I live near a wealthy community and end up getting invited to homes that would be comfortably placed in Architectural Digest. It's always seems to me that, under these circumstances, you have two options: envy or pleasure. I choose the latter. After all, how many of us, on a regular basis, get to walk into the pages of a magazine?
I will admit, though, that I'm not a perfect candidate for sainthood. When I was an older teenager, I felt life was passing me by to see a fourteen year gymnast take a gold medal — "Oh, my God," I'd think. "Not that I can do gymnastics, but I've lost my chance". Now, I sometimes think I've missed the boat when these palatial homes are owned by people in their 30s. That seems a bit much.
[That picture, by the way, is Blenheim Palace, where Winston Churchill was born.]