Hearts and Houses for Sale: A Paw at the Window

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind whipped the branches against my bedroom French Doors. Alone in my Tempur-Pedic king size bed, I tossed and turned unable to sleep. [That has never happened before. The bed is amazing.] Then a scratching at the door, woke me in a start. Bolt-right up in bed, I began to sweat and peered through the morning light. A paw--a striped orange paw--begged to be let in. Poor Mittsy, my seven-toed cutie-pie.

I had left her outside all night. Not exactly Wuthering Heights, but a little excitement. And now I felt like a bad parent.

The concert is next week. Unfortunate mistake, but dinner with Mohammad had been wonderful. I don't remember what we had and I left the menu in my car, but suffice it to say, I hope to see him again. He said, "I'll call you," which doesn't bode well. Well, maybe it does in his culture. Hopefully, we are still going to the concert.

I'm staying in bed today. A stack of dusty books sits on my bedside table, waiting to be re-read.

Wuthering Heights
Oblomov
Lost Horizon
Dead Souls
The Bluest Eye
Peony

Now The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison is one of my favorite books of all time, but so sad. I think I'll pass on that today. Same goes for Pearl S. Buck's Peony.

I think Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov tugs at my heart today. The main character stays in bed for the first 200 pages. A woman woes him out of bed. And for a stoic Russian of 200 years ago, this man gets my heart a-fluttering.

Do you think if I stay in bed for 200 pages, some one will ply me with poetry and dredge up dreamy romance from my woeful heart and sorrowful psyche until I must put on my best suit and whisk them away? Goncharov, right, that's his job today. 

I think I'll bring Mittsy to bed with me. Modern America, again. She has no expectations except to be fed, played with, and provided a clean litter box.

Then with any luck, I'll wander the Moors in the afternoon and get some groceries at Trader Joe's. Hey, life ain't always exciting.

And That is the truth. To some extent.

to be continued...

Hearts and Houses for Sale: Bulls-Eye

If home is where the heart is, the Lebowsky's ripped theirs apart on the way to a divorce. Stella is looking for a new house with her new boyfriend. The only thing going for this old place is the low-low-low price. It's too close to the harbor, and a postage stamp of a lot. There's not even a garage.

I'll leave the rest of the visuals up to you, except I will say it has a ransacked look and smell. "What have you accomplished so far today?" I ask my trusty contractor, Joe, who is worth his weight in gold (and he weighs probably 200 pounds).

He folded his arms across his chest and took a wide-legged stance like the Laker's fan he is. "The junker is out of the backyard. The pile of stones are all in one corner. The Andy Gump people been here today, but, well, the porch, I don't know." I looked at his crew sitting against the sole tree, a circle of dusty sweaty men and boys speaking rapid Spanish. "We're knocking off for today," he said.

"Here's water and chips for all," I said, handing over a brown paper bag. Paid for by me, but I'll make it back. "Tomorrow the inside, Joe. the bathroom.  "You've got to keep moving, I'll bring a fan over."

I hopped gingerly on my toes until I made it up the five steps to the porch and doorway. This house could be such a Victorian cutie. I wanted Joe to know exactly what he had to do. Get the crap off the floor, swab it down, TCP the walls, rehang the lime green light fixture and the glitter ball in the kitchen. The bathroom has to be usable.  Staging is scheduled for Monday. The Lebowsky's pay for that. "I'm counting on you, Joe." 

My phone beeped about then. A text from Hopi. What's he want? My head ached, I needed lunch. I text back. "Meet u @ Thai place, blvd, 15 mins, I have 1 hr." 

"See you, Joe, please put in another hour this afternoon before you knock off." I smiled right at him and slowly fluttered of my newly dyed eyelashes. Corny but it works with him.

I practically ran down the driveway before he could refuse. By now, the sun blinded my left eye. I felt the pain coming on. No migraine. Not now. Sunglasses, always remember the sunglasses.

Getting into my car, I looked back at the house. It'll sell. Those steps are a death trap, for now. Minimal landscaping, flowers will give curb appeal. The bathroom just has to be usable. Stella's an idiot. Throws her house and her husband away. Wonder if she found her boyfriend on Craigslist?

Good old Craigslist. I found my date for tonight on there. A nice man from Mecca is taking me to hear a Japanese instrumentalist quartet. He has a strong accent. I hope I can understand him. Did I say he's nice. I'm curious about the Japanese quartet.

OMG, Hopi again. I'll have to change his ring tone. "What is it?" I say too loud, too strident, too fast into the phone as I turn on the ignition. "I'm busy, Hopi." I pull out onto the street. Thoughts about this house are racing through my mind. The big problem with the house is the bathroom. I knew that going into this. So deal with it, Selene. Glancing back it looks better from a distance. "You're what?" I hit the brakes. "You're offering the Brooms' a loan to buy your house?" 

A dart of pain bullets through my left temple. "Can we close the deal?" I'll get food and find out. "I'll meet you over there."

And that's the truth. To some extent.

to be continued

Hearts and Houses for Sale: On a Clear Day...

Hello! Selene here. Click to listen to ME tell you what's been happening lately, or read about it yourself, below:

I need a break. Life cannot be all about work. Or all about Hopi, Henry Olden Powell, III. I still want to know about Powell number 1, and Powell number 2. I wonder if I can ask him? He hasn't offered any information. Anyway, he's off the radar for today. No man, no work, no money, no maybe's.

I met my sister, Tina, at yoga class first thing this morning. I really have to get there more often. It's just a matter of prioritizing time, for myself. Yoga in the morning and the whole day goes better.

Afterward, we just drove the old highway along the water and walked around the Trump Golf Course. It was so green since we've recently had rain, and the water was so beautifully blue and clear. I could see for miles. What was that song, "On a clear day, you can see forever..." I better not sing...You know, winter in Southern California is a definite season, just not a ragged one where you're always cold. I've been to the mountains. I've never lived in the cold, but that's what I hear.

Tina and I walked for awhile, probably a half hour or more in silence. Then a golf ball hit the wall of the public bathroom up ahead and it was startling. Where were the golfers? I couldn't see anybody. Tina turned around and around in a circle trying to see where the people might be. Nobody.

It was so beautiful just looking around. I mean, of course, there had to be somebody, since the golf ball came from somebody somewhere.

"I think I'm going to get my hair cut, chin length," I said to Tina. "What do you think?"

"Sure, why not. You'll hate it, like you did last time, and wait for it to grow out, but, that's what you always do." She tells me the truth, even when I don't want to hear it.

"I need a change, Tina." I stood still and took in the warmth from the sun. It felt so good, so peaceful. "My life is difficult," I told her. "I don't have any money. I think I'm getting a new listing, but I'm not sure, it's going to take at least two weeks to get it ready to show, and 'the house on the hill' still hasn't closed yet." I was rambling.

I shut up and looked over at her. It was her turn to say something and make me feel better. She wasn't looking at me.

"Hey, look at that dog," she said. She had shaded her eyes with her hands. "Look up there. On the side of the hill. That dog."

"I see him," I said. "He's waving at us."

"Yeah, he's waving at us," Tina said. "He's happy to see us. Let's wave back."

So we did.

"Whose he with? I don't see anybody around," I said.

Tina said. "I think he just wants to say 'hello' and be friendly."

"I should forget about my hair. It's is just an excuse to do something, be distracted." I shaded my eyes with both hands. "I don't need a hair cut, or a facial or a manicure -- well, I do, but I can't afford any of it right now--."

"I think he's the welcoming committee for the golf course," Tina said.

He kept waving at us. We kept waving back at him, or her. Couldn't tell from the distance.

"I wonder who he belongs to?" I asked.

"He shouldn't be out here all alone," Tina said. "But, then I guess, we are."

So, we stood there on the walking path, in the sunshine at the golf course near the ocean. He sat there on the grassy hill across the road, above us for awhile. Then he got up and trotted away until we couldn't see him anymore.

Later, when we were in the car, Tina asked if I thought he was a coyote.

"No. I think he was a collie," I said. "Somebody's dog who knew how to wave hello, or maybe 'goodbye', I don't know which."

We went back to Tina's and had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

And that's the truth. To some extent.

to be continued...

Hearts and Houses for Sale: The Mask

"What you see, isn't always what you get," Selene said to her sister, Tina, as she snapped on the bedside lamp.  "All I said, was that he should practice."

"Do you like him?" Tina asked. "Is he weird or not?"

"I don't know what to think of him," she said, sitting up in bed and removing the warm cloth from her forehead. "He's fun, he's smart. Did I tell you that already?"

"You said he brought you a semi-precious gemstone snake bracelet. You thought you owed him."

Selene got out of bed and opened the French doors to her small bricked patio. She stuck her finger into the soil of a droopy Azalea. It was dry. "The bracelet is beautifiul, that he couldn't do it, well, it wasn't a problem for me, I really didn't care. Things don't always work out, especially after a lot of drinking. He just took it the wrong way." No stars, but a huge perfect moon. Her nipples ached in the chilly air. 

"He didn't take it any-way, from what you're saying," Tina added. She took a drag on a smoke.

"You're smoking," Selene said. "What are you smoking?" She stood still and listened intently. "Just go back to cigarettes. I'm not seeing a psychiatrist, he's a surgeon. Let's howl at the moon together and see how we feel."

"I took a Valium, I'm already relaxed," her sister said. "Don't make me tense. He's a surgeon. So, I can understand how that could cut both ways."

"I like him enough," Selene said as she slipped into sweat pants and a shirt. "He's got these piercing dark eyes especially in the moonlight, but I just can't get the thought of him hacking up a family out of my mind."

"So, with that in mind, you tell him to go practice when he can't do it," her sister replied. "If you're lucky, you won't be seeing him for awhile. Not until he practices enough to get it to work again. Or comes back to stab you. That didn't come out right. I mean, well, it scares me."

"I never thought of it like that," Selene slid her feet into Uggs.  "Do you think he thought I meant he couldn't do it, and he needed to practice with someone else?"

"Yeah, with somebody else. You know, practice and learn," Tina said. "Pretty insulting, huh."

Selene poured tomato juice in a bucket glass and stuck in a straw. Then she saw it. His surgical mask was on the kitchen counter. It must be his. Who else could it belong to? "Tina, this is really weird, but..."

And that's the truth. To some extent.

to be continued...