Cross-posted from my Livejournal.
Last night was a lonely Friday night. My roommate was out as usual — not that we’re chummy or anything — it would still be pretty lonely even if she were here, she’s a little older than I am and has a whole world outside of the little Aullwood bubble I live in. There was nothing good on TV or on the internet, and my book was predictable and too sentimental for my taste. So I slipped into my usual fallback to beat boredom: daydreaming.
I may have been inspired by some of the Gourmet’s Diary of a Foodie episodes I had watched earlier in the evening, but I’m sure I’ve stated my dream retirement plans before, and even written down somewhere in this journal. (this is one reason I moved blogs: no Search feature!) My dream retirement plan is to own a lovely little hostel, maybe in the Philippines, maybe in a European city, who knows. Last night, I pushed my daydream a little further.
I’d like to have a sweet little bed & breakfast with an organic farm and garden. The rooms would be carefully and tastefully decorated with little trinkets and paintings I’d have collected over the years and years of travel I’d have accumulated by then. Everything would be made from sustainable materials, with lots of fresh air blowing in, and big windows with large window seats to read and nap in.
Guests could meander through the farm and garden, and maybe I’ll even have enough money to own a little patch of woods to listen for birds. Delicious and nourishing food would be an obvious part of the experience: fresh baked breads and sweet treats, creative but comforting meals, and lots of fresh fruits and juices. Famous and burgeoning chefs and artists could use my space to hold intimate workshops, and there’d be a family and student friendly section of the b&b, with lots of hammocks and treehouses to explore.
I’d live in a house a little bit away from the actual inn, but still on site. I’d be close to the garden and the woods, where I could tend to my chickens. I’ll see to it that I meet the people who are staying with me. I’ll tuck books back into their proper spots in my library shelves, and wipe off the counters speckled by flour.
I’d have some beautiful longtime companion with me who I could share lazy afternoons sipping tea with, and he will have a fellow traveler’s soul. We’d take off every so often for exotic trips, crossing birds or flowers or locations off our life lists; but watching reruns of Friends and Food Network would not be out of the question either. We’d take in interns and apprentices to teach what we know about whatever we do know. I’d have a lazy dog I’d call some silly name, like Banunu or Boogie.