Maybe if I won the lottery...

This weekend:

Friday: Anna and I went to see the baby elephant at the zoo. We ended up getting in line twice, the first time because we though the elephant house was closing soon and the second time because the line was short. He was asleep the first time and was little more than a breathing grey blob in the sawdust, Rose-Tu standing over him in case any of the visitors on the other side of the glass decided to try something. The second time he had moved to another spot in the enclosure, but was again sleeping. His ear was flicking, however, from the sawdust his mother had started to throw around. It was obvious by the way she was acting and standing in front of her baby that she was getting tired of being looked at. And who wouldn't blame her? I feel sorry for the zoo animals. Yes, they are well taken care of, but all that pacing around their enclosures is a sign of going insane with boredom.

Other than that, it wasn't a terribly exciting day at the zoo. One of the hippos was swimming around and playing with a ball. She got really close to the glass so I was literally about a foot away from her at one point, which was kind of cool. As well, one of the new cougars was pacing around her cage, following a predictable pattern, which meant we got pretty close to her as well when she returned to her den (which has a glass wall in it). In said den, there was also the remains of some animal. It looked like a goat from the jaw that was about two inches from the glass.

Saturday: Mum and I went to the Street of Dreams. All of the homes were ridiculous and way over designed. That being said, our favorite was the most expensive of them at just shy of $3 million. But who could blame it with it's home theatre, indoor pool and hot tub, massage room, wet sauna, dry sauna, wine cellar, three amazing terraces with views all the way to Washinton and Mt. St. Helens, two master suites, and some 10,000 square feet. I told my mum that she could buy it and that I would happy pay rent to live in the smaller of the two master suites.

She didn't go for it.

It wasn't that she didn't want to live there--which she would happily--it's just that if we sold all of our possessions, there's no way we would be even close to being able to afford it. So, I told her that she should get one of her rich relatives to buy it instead and that we could just spend most of our time there. Surely now that my grandparent's are back down to one house, they're itching to have another?

Right. In my dreams. Maybe when I'm a rich and famous architect I can design myself an ostentatious house and live myself an ostentatious life. Or maybe if I marry myself an heir from Vermont I can design that house. Or if I suddenly come into a ridiculous amount of money and choose to thumb my nose at my humble beginnings.

Because, you know, those are all feasible options.