When I Grow Up. Part One.

I have a great job. Sure, I complain about it (sometimes endlessly) all the while completely aware of the fact that it is, in the scheme of things, a terrific way to make a living. But I'm a dreamer. And I always have been. So for my entire career I've had wanderlust. Meaning I get all of these wild ideas of what I want to be when I grow up, and then I fantasize about making them realities. (photographer, wedding planner, florist, art therapist, candy maker, shop owner, the list goes on) Of course, I never act on any of these (at least not yet). I just daydream about it and then I move onto the next one. [Note: I realize technically I am a "grown up." But I'll never, ever stop saying "when I grow up." Because the fact is I'll never really be a grown up. Even when I'm 90. There's always more growing up left to do] Wouldn't it be sort of fun if I shared all my crazy career change fantasies here with you? Some are fairly out there and others are completely plausible. But either way, they're usually pretty interesting. And maybe you've thought about one or two of them yourself. Because for me, it's not the new job or career path that I'm interested in, but the fantasizing about change and excitement and newness. I love that. And I always will.

So. Let's get started: When I grow up...

I want to design, open and operate a southern inn. Maybe in Decatur, GA (where my mom lives) or maybe somewhere else entirely. But in my dream this inn is most definitely in the south. And it's not a B&B nor is it a hotel, it's kind of something inbetween. It would be luxury but not stuffy. Hip and cool without trying to hard. The kind of place where the attention to detail surprises and delights you. It would be oozing with nostalgic, southern charm. Perfectly designed and executed by yours truly it would be the kind of warm and cozy place that you'd never ever want to leave. There'd be a perfectly curated gift shop and an award winning southern style restaurant. Every morning guests would wake up to coffee and fresh buttermilk biscuits. Every evening they'd gather on the huge wraparound porch to sip mint juleps and snack on deviled eggs and boiled peanuts while sitting in rocking chairs listening to a local bluegrass band.

So the question is wouldn't you just love to stay at my southern inn?

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