I want to begin by saying that I am so devastated by what happened in Orlando. I feel ridiculous even writing a blog in light of the Sunday we all just had. Even with the Tonys last night, it was a dismal day, and I’m writing this from Ptown, where the sadness is more palpable than I can describe. Words cannot ever really express how sad and horrified one feels when these things happen, but we have to do something about this already. For what it’s worth, my heart goes out to all the victims, their mothers and fathers, their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives, children…just think of how many lives are affected by this tragedy. If there was ever a wakeup call against toxic hatred, here it is again. At this point, I send LOVE and HOPE more than anything else. We can no longer continue to blame mental health, skeletons in the closet, religion, culture, bias, ghosts in one’s past, or the media. There’s one common thread here…it’s hate. It has got to stop.
So now, speaking of “ghosts of one’s past,” I have to touch on last week’s episode, however pointless it is in the grand scheme of things, because this is what we do here. But I’ll just touch on one particular issue from last week’s episode that’s hurt me and angered me, to be honest. There a few things I would like you to know. Richard and I bought our home before we were even married. It was sort of a wedding gift to us and a place we could really make our own. I shut the house down for almost three years and set it on a journey of restoration and renovation, mainly to restore it back to its 1904 glory. Richard basically gave me a paintbrush and a blank canvas and told me, “This is your canvas.. go for it.” And I think it’s fair to say that I did. It took me three years to get it “just right,” and every time I walk in, I’m so proud, so excited, and ultimately so grateful that I can call it HOME. It’s not just a country house, or a house in the country…it’s HOME in every sense.
(Here’s a featured article in this month’s Berkshire Magazine about Blue Stone Manor and the Housewife who calls it home.)
I wanted my home to be a sanctuary — a place I could go to, to escape. A place visitors could escape to and explore. A place all of us could escape and experience a weekend in the country in the classic sense. It’s set on 18 acres, so it really is like that far-off country house set back in the woods or on a hill with lots of rooms, a billiard room, a study, a music room, a porch, and a special surprise in every room. Isn’t that the kind of place we all dream of going to when we’re growing up? Isn’t that what princesses dream their castles to be? Yes, it is unique and each room is different. I wanted people to feel that element of surprise when they walked into each room. I got a few calls after these episodes aired, and mostly from friends and people who worked on the house and that was nice… I didn’t realize we basically hired every mason, painter, plumber, electrician, and artisan in town. People who worked on it feel a true connection to it, and we’re almost like a family that crafted this project out of love and passion and the creativity fueled by both. Just another reason to be proud of good ol’ Blue Stone Manor; so I had a bit of a problem, to say the least, with what Carole said about the house, and what Bethenny suggested was the problem that weekend.
The way they both acted had nothing to do with my home. They could have been anywhere and acted the same way. To be honest, I don't think they had any intention of treating my house with respect. And don’t believe the excuse that my house brings out something negative in Bethenny. That’s ridiculous. I could use the excuse that the TWO times I visited Bethenny’s house — first for after-dinner drinks in her pool house and the next for her birthday ho-down [sic] — brought out the worst in ME, but that would just be a silly, pointless, infantile excuse. And, yes, I’m above that. Whatever happened during those two visits was because of what was said and the actions of a few, not because of a home’s vibe or energy.
As for Carole’s unfounded accusation that my house is filled with the Ghost of Richard…wow, I was shocked she said that. If nothing else, it is so so so hurtful. I have a beautiful picture of us on our wedding day in his office which sits proudly on his old writing desk. The rest of his belongings are in an attic that no one has ever gone into. I am saving some things that I have chosen to save for personal reasons that I have no desire or need to justify. I have never experienced anything negative or ghostly in my home, nor do I think her having her husband’s ashes in her apartment is weird or brings anything negative to her apartment’s “vibe.” It’s there because she once loved someone, and still does, and that urn serves as a reminder of a beautiful life once lived.
Look, my home is mine through and through. It is filled with art, with books, with pillows and chairs, knickknacks and collectibles, sculptures, pianos, candles, and beautiful memories. But most of all, it’s filled with love, and I love the way I have been able to express myself and open it up to friends and family. Whatever they feel about the “juju” that brings out those inner demons has nothing to do with someone’s home. It’s all about the demons they simply can’t control.
Till next week, stay safe, stay grateful, and keep on loving.
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