A little over two years ago, Rocky and I purchased a bottle of champagne in Paris. We asked the clerk to suggest a bottle that might peak in two to five years. We were willing to splurge on a bottle of bubbly, going over our typical $10 price range. You might as well spend a few Euros more when you're going to save it for a special occassion. Two years, two months, and two days later, we finally arrived at our reason to celebrate. We had moved into our first Nashville home.
At least I can say the champagne was worth the wait. I just wish I could say the same for our move. When we had originally fantasized about opening that bottle of champagne, Rocky would be recruited to a Tennessee firm and I'd get to take my time finding just the right position. Ironically, it was my job that brought us back. We would be moving into a restored Greek Revival, complete with white pillars and a rocking chair front porch. Instead, we're being conservative and renting a 900 square foot townhouse (albeit in my dream neighborhood). We'd have season tickets to a winning Vanderbilt football team. I knew it was a fantasy, but sometimes reality is so hard to stomach.
The move didn't just break a few dreams; it broke a heck of a lot of dishware too. At last count, we've lost a margarita glass, a champagne glass, two dessert bowls, two pasta bowls one bread plate and a dining room chair. We haven't unpacked all of our precious wedding gifts and I don't intend to until we've settled into more permanent digs. I'm a little scared of what I will find. We sprung for a nicer bottle of bubbly, but I wish I had invested in a lot more bubble wrap. Bubble wrap for my breakables and my reality.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
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