Sitting in my newly redecorated, tiger-themed great room after a long day on the slopes, blissfully staring out of the window with a glass of Chardonnay in hand, I like to think each pine, aspen and shrub on my 3.87 acres in the Mountain Village are all mine. Even though Lester paid for it from his Christmas bonus five years ago from that debunked Third World hedge fund, I truly believe I do my part by keeping myself trim and neat for all the business dinners and charity events that we have to attend. Now I’m looking forward to expanding on to the ridgeline so I can look out, over onto my little pine trees that we paid for growing in peace on the Valley Floor.

The added bonus that I’m looking forward to is the plethora of elite dinners with like-income-minded people (and let’s not forget the gift bag from our Valley Floor contribution).  I’m presuming there will be gift bags? (Hint, hint.) I’d like to suggest to that funny man who was ranting and raving the other day about the great, unwashed people of Delta, that if he expects Lester and me to buy it for him and all the other poor little (unwashed?) people of Telluride, then he should start seriously thinking about our needs! 

For starters, I’m very disappointed not to be able to pop down main street and buy Lester that black sable fur jacket they’re all wearing this season in Aspen. Next time I’m in Rebekah Hall, I must remember to talk to that sweet lady about opening a Chanel boutique next to the pet store. It might be a little too up-market for some of the locals, but to be honest, I’m not so sure that any of these folks are still here. Are there any poor people left in Telluride? I think it’s just one of those silly Telluride myths like the one about the Ute curse. If poor people really do exist, perhaps they would like to start thinking about donating their services to some of us wealthy folk? After all, since we’re the ones going be buying them those scrubby ol’ acres, would a hot stone massage be too much to ask? Or a couple of ski lessons? Any handymen out there?

I told Lester over mussels and martinis the other night that we should give as much as those Hollywood folks. Perhaps then, they’ll finally invite us to their New Years party. I would love Tom Cruise to explain to me exactly what was the plot of Mission Impossible as I found it impossible to understand?  Admittedly, I got a little confused after Lester dropped a bag of the Nugget’s delicious popcorn all over me, when he was being lowered down from the ceiling (Tom not Lester!).

I digress. Lester calculated that by giving six figures we’d still have enough to go to five black-tie events in Dallas plus the Operation FEAST for the Telluride Medical Center.   When is the Center going to start a real dermatological department offering botox and fillers? Come to think of it, maybe I should suggest to the fundraising committee – botox and collagen in the silent auction. If they were really smart they’d give us cheese sandwiches instead of a feast – then, with all the money they’d save, they can give it to the Valley Floor or at least buy a hair-removing device for the Center.

 Mrs. P, if I say so myself, I believe you’re on to something, sweet-pea!   Now, let’s see what other Telluride fundraisers can use my help? Hold it here! I’ve just had another brilliant thought. Oh, my goodness, Mrs. P, you are on a Texas roll, girl! I have the perfect excuse not to donate to all those pesky non-profits that are always hitting us up.   

I’m going to talk to the mayor about handing out buttons to all the people who REALLY contribute to buy the Valley Floor. It will be a perfect way to get all those other nonprofits to back off, because when they see us wearing our cute buttons they’ll know we’re tapped out.

I wonder if the people of Telluride realize that there are starving people, somewhere in the world? Oh, what the heck, we don’t know them and Lester never mentions his third cousin once removed who had such a hard time in Vietnam. What ever happened to him?

Anyway, I do hope the mayor tells all the 501s not to even look at a real Valley Floor contributor and ask for another penny!  I suppose I’ll have to wear my button to Allreds at lunchtime.  Oh, I forgot, the bottom-feeders aren’t allowed in for lunch, are they? Never mind, I’ll wear it with my Gucci ski jacket when I pick up the crab legs at the grocery store, just so everyone can see how much we gave.   Of course, I’m talking real MONEY, not small change. 

Let’s see here, there could be a platinum button for $5 million and over; a gold button for $1 million and a nice silver button for the six figures. How about getting that lovely girl down in Ridgeway who makes those fabulous bracelets to make us some special brooches?

Hold my water! If that’s going to happen I’m just going to have to get poor Lester to add another couple of zeros to our check, because I’m going to have to wear a gold button to match my new Valentino that I plan to wear to the FEAST. (’Course next year I’ll be wearing a Chanel from the new boutique in town!)  I just hope my outfit won’t be a little much for this itty, bitty event. What am I thinking?

Remember last year, Mrs. P? That hideous number that poor little full-timer was wearing.   Smelled like my grandmother’s closet. Did she really think that I didn’t know what a mothball smelt like?

 I do so love getting all gussied up for a Telluride hoedown! Now if only I could get a freebie oxygen facial (Hint, hint!) and, well, I’d better start thinking what else I could do with to make my life perfect in this little ol’ valley. I’m sure I don’t have to tell the town to start organizing the contributors plaques for the Valley Floor. I just hope they’re smart enough to make them big enough so Lester and I can see them from our new Lear when we fly in for the Fourth of July.

© Pandora  P. Piquant.