Money

Money has always seemed like chocolate to me. The more you have, the more you want, and it's pretty darn awesome, but if you have too much things go south pretty fast.

Last night at the bookstore I thumbed through a book written about Consuelo Vanderbilt and her (yes, her, named for her Cuban godmother's surname) mother. When Consuelo's grandfather died, he had more money than most people even now can possibly fathom. And almost immediately following his death, his son and daughter-in-law started spending it. They were determined to skyrocket to the top of New York and Newport society, and the only way to do it was to outspend everyone around them.

It eventually led to Consuelo's arranged and loveless marriage to the Duke of Marlborough, Charles Spencer-Churchill-yes-that-Churchill, which has pretty much become emblematic of the void, socially-savvy marriages of the Gilded Age. It was said that on their wedding night, she told her husband she was in love with someone else, to which he responded, "So am I." The Duke treated her like dirt because, like most Old World nobles who married New World heiresses, he thought her to be very much beneath him, but was quite fond of her shiny new money. (Her dowry was close to $100 million by today's counts.)

Somewhere along the ropes of pearls, gown designs, and expensive trans-Atlantic crossings on huge boats they managed to also support women's suffrage, which I guess makes them...brave? Noble? I'm really not sure. I got a little bored. I'm not an enormous Gilded-Age fan, aside from the clothes and some of the furniture, and really only picked up the book because A, the cover was pretty and B, I've always been curious why her name was Consuelo instead of Consuela.

But I was rather struck by the undeniable truth of Consuelo's life; money does not make you happy.

And it got me thinking about my own views on money. I make jokes frequently about having a fabulous amount of it someday from my heartbreaking works of staggering genius, but really? I want a limited amount.

I'd like enough to buy land, and build a nice house on it. I'd REALLY like to buy enough land to build multiple houses with plenty of land around them, so that various family members, and, one day, offspring, can have lovely places to live and be near me. If I became ridiculously wealthy I'd probably build a big, English-style manor, complete with trick bookcases and secret rooms, and have a "house farm" a la Mount Vernon. I'd like to have enough to set up a homestead with some rare and heritage breeds, and enough to put back for me and mine that would assure we would never have to worry about anything.

There are gifts I'd like to buy, vacations I'd like to take, and friends whose futures I'd like to help stabilize. And, yes, there are parties I'd like to throw.

But the truth is, even if I never build an enormous Biltmore of a home...I firmly intend to have at least a little something just outside of town. And if all I ever keep are chickens, so be it. That's within my reach no matter. And even if I were insanely wealthy, you can bet your boots I'd want to be as off-grid as possible.  I have few needs. Running water and indoor plumbing; hot water even if I have to carry it from a stove; and a room somewhere, and it could be a closet with a window unit, that I could go into during the heat of an Oklahoma summer and cool off. I think I admire my ancestors most of all for making it through a summer in this state without central air!

But all this ridiculousness, this obsession with things. My days of it mattering to me are not all that far behind me, I know. I still have several ridiculously pricey handbags from a time when the name on my purse, I thought, mattered a great deal. I blame McGuinness a lot, actually. There were more labels strolling those halls on an average Tuesday than some of the places I went in Vegas. I remember an email, once, that promised me I'd be the envy of all when I whipped out my super-rare $15 lip glaze that's only available in Japan, but that I can buy here for a limited time. I remember it mattering so much, so much to me if I could get this eyeshadow, or these shoes, or that purse. I even feel a little of it now, at college, when I drive my beat-up little Bug past some of these brand new BMWs that kids my own age and younger are driving.

I know people who have gotten so wrapped up in it as adults that it's sickening. People who spend themselves into pits of debt so that maybe, maybe people will think that they're one level above their real income bracket. I could go on and on. Most who know me are aware of my distaste for the Cult of Designer Junk and some of the highly popular films and TV shows that promote it. Heck, I was channel surfing the other day and came across a show so simply and honestly titled "Rich Women."

But I've had a couple of glimpses of the real world. A committee here, a training there, and particularly now where I attend Church. When I worked on Crystal Darkness, it was probably the first time I had ever been around a large number of people who had more important things to think about than that. PRSS training, too, was an amazing foray into a world wherein my experiences and what I had learned from them mattered far more than how expensive my clothes were.

And Church! I've been to Churches before where I acutely felt my own financial inadequacies. I've finally found one where people care far too much about why we're actually supposed to be there.

It's just hit me as I'm writing this that I used to dread Christmas. The time of year when people buy more, more, more has always made me focus on what I don't have. This year I'm noticing completely different things. And you know?

I like it much better.