Wherefore Art Thou, Sky Money? ...
1. A big bag of money that falls from the sky.
O sky money, sky money. Wherefore art thou sky money?
The sky money, it eludes me. Alas.
But oh, the things I would do with it.
I would give giant fistfuls of it away, for starters. That's just good karma. Sharing is good. Greed is bad.
I would hire folks to put a porch on my house. Oh, how I covet a porch. I can see it in my mind. Reading for hours on a lazy summer day, sipping lemonade, greeting passersby and inviting them to sit for a while, to share some lemonade and treats. Or curling up in blanket during a heavy rain, feeling the mist on my face. Yep, a porch.
I would bake, perhaps here, perhaps in a bakery café I would open, a charming space – with a fireplace – where people could gather with old friends and meet new friends and chat and nosh. On the order of Meryl Streep's café in "It's Complicated," but cozier, slightly. There would be lamps, the warm glow of lamps.
I would buy a beautiful apartment somewhere beautiful, with beautiful herringbone floors. Oh, how I covet beautiful herringbone floors. I suppose I could have them installed in my house, but it would be nice to have a beautiful apartment somewhere beautiful where I could be when I wanted to be, and that I could offer to family and friends when they were in town and I was not. New York, perhaps? Boston? Paris? London? Who knows.
I would spend long stretches of time in Big Sur, sitting on the rocks, watching the waves, marveling at the quality of the light, walking, reading, writing, sleeping. Being. I adore Big Sur. Nature is extraordinary.