Monday, June 26, 2006
My ma dragged me off to HomeArama yesterday, an annual 2-week display of a dozen newly developed estates/mansions/very large houses within close radius of each other. Gawkers traipse through the dwellings to see the latest in these parts in design and decor while behind-the-scenes architects, landscapers and interior planners get to strut their stuff. Average per home selling price: $2 million.
This way of spending a day - schlepping up and down stairs and in and out of houses and commenting "Ooh, look at the material they used for the formal dining room drapes" or "Isn't the brass chandelier a touch too heavy for the library?" is absolutely not my idea of a good time. I loathe it, in fact.
I get all tired and toochas-draggy and irritable and am barely able to contain my disgust for "faux marble" "faux terra cotta floors" and "faux faux" interiors. Ditto the exteriors made up of such a mish-mosh of brick, stone, thatched roof and look alike stucco/Tudor design that my only guess is that the drunk French designer responsible for it all was pining for Provence but got lost in suburban hell after spending a weekend in Vegas. Why not knock out a few bedrooms and use the real real? Or stick with a single time period in designing the facade? Never mind. Touring makes my ma happy. So I sacrifice.
Then I open up the latest news wire and feel guilty as hell for spending the day surrounded by "faux" when very real stuff is going down in HLC (Holy Land Central). I look at the picture of Gilad Shalit and imagine him as a kid more comfortable taking up a round of Dungeons and Dragons than patrolling anything anywhere. My heart hurts for his parents. I remember Nachshon Waxman. And I am reminded of how very difficult it is to be outside HLC when the type of news that pulls the country apart and together happens.