It's a bizarre experience, to see yourself and your stuff in print. I can't quite explain why, and I wouldn't understand it if someone was explaining it to me, about themselves. But I know that when it happens to me it feels dreamy — as in, that dream I have where I'm buck-naked on the subway, desperately grabbing at people's Tribunes to cover myself, while praying that the thing comes to a screeching, sparking stop so I can sprint out the doors and run straight off the . . . planet. In other words, I feel profoundly vulnerable and exposed, and thrilled, and a little bit scared, like I must only look at it through the little shutter of my fingers while my hand is covering my eyes. But I keep looking, trying to take it all in.
Today I must say, I'm pretty overwhelmed by this. If you've hung around here for a while, you may remember last fall when there were some photo shoots happening around the place and I was cleaning like a crazy person and chattering away about it all. This October afternoon in particular was pretty magical, and yesterday the results hit the stands (or at least some subscribers' mailboxes). This is the March 2007 issue of Romantic Homes magazine with an article about our house. I'm actually a little bit speechless. It's ten beautiful super-saturated pages long. It just kept going and going.
You never really know what these things are going to be; as the subject, you don't have a lot of control. Once you've said "yes," you pretty much have to let go, put yourself out there, and allow it all to be . . . interpreted, however it will. But it's never easy. It's always fraught. You sort of stand, pigeon-toed, off to the side while they do their thing, full of hope and pride and nerves, wringing your hands, crossing your fingers, pretending it doesn't really matter anyway, what anyone thinks. But when it comes out, it's impossible not to care, or feel emotional. I couldn't be more thrilled, or flattered, or nervous today if I tried. I'm thinking of having Andy take my blood-pressure. It's nice to have an R.N. around the house when your magazine article comes out.
Thanks for being here, you guys. My legs feel a little bit wobbly. If we pack really tightly into this subway car then I might be okay.