Judd and I took the dogs on a walk around Lake of the Isles this morning. He now realizes that I do not exaggerate the craziness I run into on these walks.
There were vicious mini-dogs, creepers that went out of their way to talk to us, and a lot of awkward “why is the dog doing that?” moments. We survived with a lot of lysol, some silly string, and a taser.
There were also mansions. The Lake of the Isles is cluttered with them.
This is my favorite:
Bam! I know there are grander mansions directly on the lake, but this is my favorite. I will live here someday. I will wear a long, flowy bath robe and saunter out to the front steps to fetch the morning edition of the New York Times. The dogs are dead at this point, the bad-ass kids are away at boarding school and Juddson is off on business.
It is just me, my mansion, my coffee, and the lemurs…
The mansion straddles a hill slightly off the lake and is surrounded by dramatic old churches. Living directly on the lake seems inconvenient. The constant stream of cars, dogs, and gawkers is not worth the status boost. Then again, maybe my opinions will change when I’m fabulously wealthy and in need of a prestigious address…