Job description
"Can't cook, can't make beds, hate laundry, won't iron, don't like to get up before 9, not handy, can't do yardwork, looking for innkeeper position."
Would you hire this person?
Neither would I.
So what happens when you are this person, and you become an innkeeper through no fault of your own? You make sure you have a good support network, even if that is just one person.
Granted, it's a little emasculating when I'm wearing rubber gloves and Dawn is wearing a toolbelt, and her toolbox is much bigger than mine. (Actually, it used to be mine.) However, are skills are complementary:
- I stay up late and prepare everything for breakfast; she gets up early and serves it
- She pays the bills; I manage the books
- She makes the rooms look good, and I take care of the marketing
- I take care of the web site, marketing, phone system, wireless Internet, and anything that interests me; she takes care of everything else
Of course, if it was up to Dawn you'd be spared all of the behind-the-scenes minutiae of restoring a property and opening a bed and breakfast. As far as you'd know, the mansion and cottages would have sprung fully conceived for your comfort and enjoyment, breakfast would run like clockwork, we wouldn't have any problems with our reservation system, and you wouldn't flinch at the sight of a rubber ducky. (OK, maybe that's just me.)
But here's the problem: It's over. We're done. The buildings are restored, the bed and breakfast is open, we're getting a lot of positive feedback, and we're actually ahead of schedule according to our business plan. What's left is to just execute on that plan, take care of our guests, and try not to do anything stupid. (Easier for some than for others.)
What I'm saying is that every great story has an end because the author knows when to stop writing. And it's been a great story, full of daring dreams and heroic actions and some bittersweet moments. It's been just over three years since we started this adventure, and we accomplished more than most people do in a lifetime. I don't want to dilute that with anecdotes about crepes, MapQuest, or how overwhelmed I get on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. And Dawn, of course, would prefer that I not air our dirty laundry to the world. (That's just a figure of speech--our laundry is clean!)
I'll leave the journal up, of course, for future historians to mock. I might even turn it into a book someday. (To be self-published and sold exclusively in our future gift shop, I'm sure.) So before I get too melodramatic, I want to thank everyone who helped on this project: No matter how small the contribution, from friendly advice to 18 months of hard labor, it was all invaluable to us. Mike, Gary, and Toni from Olde York Homes; Darin from Village Glass; Gary, Marsha, and Katie (plus "the crew") at the Restoration Clinic; Haldeman Excavating; Brian Schaeffer and Bob Leppien; Matt Swaner; Henry Hollenbech; the King brothers at Lantz Roofing; Ralph Steech; Adam, Paul, and Marlin from AH Moyer; Ruth Hollinger; my cousin Regina--we didn't know most of you when we started this project, and now we are forever indebted to all of you. (Literally.)
I also have to thank the folks who have given us great advice throughout: Chip and Vonnie Henderson; Toni Wortel at Silverstone Inn; Carole Wilson at the Lancaster County Planning Commission; Doug Dinsmore from Skelly and Loy; Ray Erb; Tim and Bill at Diehm and Sons; Bruce at Cox-Evans Architects; David Christian; and all of our friends. I even have to thank our mothers for, uh, keeping us 'grounded.' ("Over my dead body" and "You'll never make a living running a B&B" come to mind.)
I also have to give a shout-out to all the good people in Los Angeles, who drove real estate prices so ridiculously high that we could afford this, and the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966, which forced us to open a B&B in order to qualify for tax credits. We would have never thought of doing that otherwise, but it turned out to be a great idea.
But most of all I have to thank Dawn. She gave up everything to make this happen: her job, her home, her financial security, her privacy. Not many people would have started down this path, and very few would have completed it. She celebrated her 40th birthday in February alone, freezing in a greenhouse, surrounded by dirt piles and open trenches. If that doesn't give you a sense of what she's been through, nothing will.
As I tell everyone, if we knew what we were getting into, we wouldn't have done it. It simply cost too much, financially and emotionally. But sometimes ignorance is bliss, and we did accomplish our goals. There is still much to do--the porch, the landscaping, the barn, the stallion pen, the parking garage, even the chicken coop--but those are stories for another day.
And maybe we'll start another journal then.
P.S. The bed and breakfast is still open! Don't get the wrong idea. Please come and stay with us; it will make the bankers very happy.
