Good morning all,
Sam’s best friend Jack was in town and graciously stopped by to help move some furniture. Jack and his wife just bought a house, too. He told us about their decorator and how great she’s been.
I cringed. Who hires a decorator?
I’ll tell you who hires a decorator. Rich people.
Sometimes I can be judgmental. I didn’t grow up with money so I’ve always had a thing against rich people. I prided myself on not having money, on earning everything I had and greatly appreciating anything I was given.
A couple years ago we went on a ski trip with friends. I kept falling on my ass while all my non-athletic friends whizzed by me, oh so gracefully down the slope. I resented all of them for growing up with money. Because only people who grew up with money could possibly be so good at skiing.
When I first moved in with Sam and found out he hired a decorator for his apartment I almost spit out my wine onto his West Elm coffee table. I didn’t even know hiring a decorator was something people did.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a famous actress. When Sam was a kid, he wanted to be a millionaire. He has worked his butt off for years and basically had no life outside his job to be in the financial position he’s in. He’s done very well for himself and now I’m reaping the benefits.
It’s been a weird transition to go from living paycheck-to-paycheck to deciding what kind of pool we should get for the backyard. But I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t also been amazing.
I used to associate money with privilege. Now I associate money with freedom.
I don’t want my son to be spoiled. I worry that he’ll have things too easy. I want him to appreciate money and be responsible with money. I want him to work hard and sometimes I want him to struggle to make ends meet. I want him to have grit and work ethic. I want him to understand the value of a dollar.
But I also don’t want him to have a chip on his shoulder, like I did for so long. I don’t want the weight of debt to crush his soul. I want him to be able to focus on his curiosities and interests and passions.
But let’s be real - I don’t ever want him to hire a decorator. He should have his own taste and figure it out for himself. If you don’t know what kind of art to buy, you shouldn’t be buying art.
Blog of the Week
I’m getting so close to the end of pregnancy! I can’t believe it’s almost here. But is it the end or is it really the beginning??
I wrote a short essay about how endings are actually beginnings. And I might have taken a marathon metaphor too far. [Read the post here.]
Inspired Reading
I just started reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle. It’s one of those books where I have to stop reading, constantly, so I can think. This book is making me think a lot.
It’s less about the subject matter: she talks about her marriage to her husband crumbling and how she then proceeded to fall in love with a woman. I don’t relate to that. But I relate to the way in which Doyle writes. All her insights are based on her own experiences. She periodically flashes back to moments in her life that left a mark. She speaks in metaphors to get her message across. She writes in a clear, candid, and funny way.
I keep stopping and thinking, “I could write a book. I could write a book like this.” Not exactly like this but I stare at the cover and can’t help but imagine my name as the author. I don’t even know what my book would be about. But a seed has been planted.
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Until next week,
Charlie
I almost spit out my coffee all over my desk reading this. 😂
"When I first moved in with Sam and found out he hired a decorator for his apartment I almost spit out my wine onto his West Elm coffee table."