An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

I find myself in the car with the dog. She’s uptight. Usually a car ride means something fun. Not this time. We are just waiting. Up the street, I can see a car parked outside my house. The realtor arrives early to make sure everything is in order.  It’s my house, of course everything is in order. Not only is it spic and span but it smells lovely and the lights are on to brighten the rooms.  A truck pulls up and an older, thin man pops out and walks towards my door.  I’m of two minds.  Get the hell out of my house comes to mind first and then, I hope he has a big checkbook. He’ll need it. Even the meanest of homes are not cheap here.  What will be will be. It’s my job to keep the house clean and to figure what I feel about this thing and how to make the very best of the less than perfect circumstance we find ourselves in.  I’m up to the challenge. 

She’s looking for a room to rent. In this town a room with shared bathroom runs about $1,000.00 so she's on the hunt for a bargain. She’s limited on time and getting anxious to get settled before she is forced to rely on the kindness of friends who won’t remain friends for long if she overstays her welcome. An ad is spotted and she inquires. They agree to meet at 4:00pm. As she drives up this upper middle class street, she notices that the house that is her destination is quite run down. Already, she with her proclivity for cleanliness and order, wonders if it would be best to turn around now but thinks better of it. A knock on the door gets nothing but silence. A follow up text produces the desired effect.  At the door is an older man, but then, who isn't older when you are 24? He is disheveled and his clothes spotted but he greets her warmly with a heavy accent. He tells her he is from Iran. The house is disordered and cluttered and she already knows this will not work for he

Last night was the final night of our neighborhood book club. We read Homeland Elegies by Ayad Akhtar. The Boy Scout and I had spent the entire 3 previous days putting the final touches on the house for the realtor. We were exhausted, to say the least, but looking forward to the chance to discuss the book. Ayad Akhtar has an incredible gift with the english language. Whether I loved the story or not, I could never deny that this person strings words together like a painter creating a masterpiece.  “The established majority takes its "we" image from a minority of its best and shapes a "they" image of the despised outsiders from a minority of their worst.” ―  Ayad Akhtar,  Homeland Elegies “I’d observed a change in myself in those last few weeks before the election, a new, narcotic dependence on my phone, an aching that wasn’t even for the phone itself but for the daily clatter of outrage about Trump it delivered. I remember feeling—through that last fortnight before

When my children were young we had a book that was read so often we eventually had to buy a new one. I kept the first one and recently found it in my oldest daughters keepsake box. I was reminded how beloved the lupine lady had been. Miss Rumphius is a story narrated for us by a niece about her beloved great auntie. She tells us about the spectacular life of Miss Rumphius and how, when she was young, she traveled all over the world. Through all her adventures she remembers her grandfather telling her to follow her dreams but to be sure to do something that makes the world a more beautiful place. When she becomes an old women and settles down by the sea, she eventually decides the best way to spread beauty is to spread lupine seeds wherever she walks. The townspeople think she is crazy until spring comes and, much to everyone's surprise, there are beautiful blue, purple and rose colored flowers everywhere. My children's father read it to the kids often and would occasionally giv

I’ve told you before that I love my little neighborhood. For some reason, the bulk of it consists of people of a certain age. There aren’t a whole lot of kids on the street except for Dean and his wife's daughter. Dean is “of a certain age” like me but his wife is a bit younger and that’s why we have Zora.  It seems that years or decades have their popular names? Well, clearly, the 50’s must have been very fond of the name Robert or “Bob”. On our tiny little street, in our tiny old houses, we’ve got ourselves so many Bobs that we’ve nicknamed them all. Across the street is a single guy, an engineer, whom we’ve dubbed Boat Bob. He ocean fishes and brings us back the catch of the day. The boat is in his driveway, thus the name. There is Fireman Bob, which is rather self explanatory, and who is kind of quiet until we have a get together, when his sense of humor really shines. He used to walk his German shepherd Cyril every day until Cyril died. Now he bikes all over.  There is Zen Bob

We’ve had a lot of May Gray and June Gloom but today I got this.  Most 12 Step groups are spiritual in nature. They require you to find a power greater than yourself to trust. For many, that is the traditional Judeo Christian god of the Bible. For others it is a version of Mother Nature.  And for some, they trust in the higher power of the meeting itself.   I’ve yet to figure out exactly what I believe in but I have come to the conclusion that it is my job to find the beauty in everything that comes my way. I haven’t arrived here arbitrarily. I’ve watched people from many walks, many belief systems and I’ve found there are both joy filled and miserable people there. Good things happen to horrific people and horrible things happen to the kindest, most faith filled people. Therefore, I figure if I want to be happy, and I do, I have to choose it.  My job is to find the beauty in the universe and be grateful for it. And I do. It may take me a little time sometimes. I fight what is coming m

Driving down a street today, I passed a house with the garage door open. Inside was the garage were the bare parts that would one day be a car, when, if ever, it was eventually assembled. Next to the metal skeleton was a gent, mature in years.  I glanced quickly, and suddenly the sight of him sent a wash of memories over me, taking me back to childhood. He stood there, staring at the engine, one knee propped up on a wheel. How many times I had seen this sight. Ours was a family of mechanics and racing enthusiasts. My paternal grandfather built and raced many vehicles including cars, dune buggies, motorcycles and boats. My father could build and fix anything and was a driver for my grandfather in the Baja 1000, a multi-vehicle race in Baja California. He also ran and worked on the generator trucks that supplied all the electrical power at movie locations. My maternal grandfather was a mechanic by trade.  The image conjured memories of early times. Weekends in the desert where men would

I want to be a better listener. I am already pretty good but I want to hone those skills so that I can hear people's stories and be worthy of the sharing.   In the beginning of our relationship, I think my ways of getting personal made the Boy Scout uncomfortable. He's an extrovert that can flit from this to that and as long as everyone in the room seems happy, he's pretty comfortable, and people love him. I am built quite different. Let me sit down with a single person, almost anyone, and have them really tell me about themselves and I am at home. I will ask some personal questions but only if the sharing has begun and if the person seems open to it. Admittedly he has changed in the last couple of years and his fears of being vulnerable and digging deeper have lessened but we are built different. Neither wrong or right, just different. There's a place for both of us.

The Boy Scout has been hired on to what he calls his “dream job”. He is bartending at a golf course. So three of his favorite things, talking to people, making drinks and free golf, are wrapped up in one position. He’s a happy camper but someone in the house is not, and that someone is NOT me. Our gentle, sweet girl, who has become accustomed to visiting her friends at the park nearly every morning of her life, is quite beside herself. Her gift for the dramatics is shining through as she mopes around and throws her body to the ground. She’s incredibly needy now that the man is not able to get her to the park regularly.  He will make it up to her tomorrow on his free morning and, hopefully, she will stop staring at me all day with a deep disappointment in her eyes. 

Yesterday we golfed. We were hooked up with a single. RJ was a genial guy on his second round of 18. Despite being a bit older (maybe 75ish) he played well and was good company. He relayed that had two grown daughters, one bright, with a masters but in a business that he clearly did not approve of. I guess medical marijuana growth wasn't how he pictured her using her degree. The other, with learning disabilities but a lot of gumption, had an upscale successful salon with 5 employees, as well as an internet business. She was rocking it. Add to that the two granddaughters she had produced and her place as favored daughter was cinched.  We mentioned to RJ that we were a fairly new couple compared to our age. He asked a couple of questions then told me that he had been married 47 years. Then, with a twinkle in his eye and a sweet smile on his face, he mentioned that he had known her for over 65 years. "Childhood sweetheart?", I asked, at which time every part of his body made

I’m coming out on the other side of resentment and anger. It was a process and it is a glorious feeling.  Family were here helping us the last two weekends. They came and installed a wall and a kitchenette. The garage remodel into an ADU, after well over a year, is finally complete. Just in time to walk away. There is a twinge of sadness that after all the time, work and money spent, somebody else will reap the rewards but I’m on a new journey and I have to chose whether I stay in my victim role or whether I embrace the unknown. Victimhood is always going to lead to unhappiness, so I shifted. It doesn’t mean I’m not scared, but it means I can see that there is potential for good things as well as negative. I get the opportunity to really test my new skills of living in the moment, building community, making friends and finding some form of gratitude in any situation. I’m feeling stronger. It helps, too, that my girl, who will remain here, has really taken charge of her career and is gr