I was half-watching Antiques Roadshow earlier tonight on NPT while puttering around in the kitchen, and some woman had a vintage guitar handed down from her uncle or some such. This instrument had been stored under her bed for years on end, or at least that’s the story I half-heard, but it makes for good drama so I’m sticking with it. Anyway, this under-appreciated piece of hand-me-down family treasure was appraised at a value of $35,000.
I have a guitar. I actually got on the Internet to see what it might be worth. It IS almost 20 years old, after all. From what I can gather, I might be able to get a cool $200 for my little gem.
A couple of days ago, Oprah began her now-live Friday show by focusing on the fires around L.A. Her major motivation at that point was the fact that the night before it had roared up (or down) the mountain whereon is located her home and the homes of her very wealthy neighbors, among whom are film director Ivan Reitman and actor Rob Lowe. Oprah wasn’t crass enough to show a picture of her own house, but I saw an aerial view of it on a news program later this weekend, and I can’t even begin to describe the mansion monstrosity that is Oprah’s (second? twelfth?) home.
Susie’s mom told her on the phone today that she has just purchased season tickets for the Nashville Opera next year, which sounds heavenly to me, and though it doesn’t seem to touch the stories above, they’re all pretty much the same to me right now. All equally out of reach.
Earlier this afternoon, I finished the chicken coop so next spring we can have chickens, and eggs will be one less item on our shopping list in the future. The thermostat is set at 69 instead of our previously spoiled winter level of 72 because . . . it really does make a difference in the bill. And even with the Prius, we are consciously combining trips and avoiding drives that are not necessary.
This long ramble about money and how comparatively little of it I have must only end this way. I have a job (two, in fact) that almost guaranteed will not go away. I have a home I love and a yard I love even more. I’m not hungry. I have four dogs who show me immense love. I have a partner I adore and who makes any place she is home for me. I have family and friends who are second to none. I have two sisters who are just freakin’ wonderful. I have more to be grateful for than most people in the world.
Oh, and I have a guitar. . . which is worth a hell of a lot more than $200 to me.
And I have a house that is not burnt to the ground, no matter how modest it is.
And I really prefer the symphony to opera.
Damn, life is good.
Deb Moore 
I had a friend who landed a sweet job skyrocketing his income into the stratosphere. We were chatting one day on the veranda of his new home in one of the weathiest neighborhoods in one of the wealthiest cities in the US.
I turned to him and said, “It must be really nice to have all this.” His response, “you don’t have more, you just spend more.”
I know what you mean. Although I think I’d be more satisfied if I didn’t have to worry about getting things to work.
But my real reason to comment is that I read chicken coop as chicken co-op… and I thought I need to get a membership in one of those.