esrosedotblog

So Marcus and I are slogging through the last day without his other Dad.

He has been a good boy. But it is clear that I am not the right one for the morning walk or the service of the evening meal.

But it is OK.

We are not suffering. We just miss his being here. Not a noisy presence really but a presence nonetheless.

I was always the one who traveled so I learned to do well in hotel rooms, restaurants and the avenues of other cities.

When I get to be the stay at home, it is less routined and more unusual. No groove to fall into.

The other thing that is unusual is that John is on a cruise, trying out what that would be like, maybe on a longer trip.

No cell phone access on a cruise. A happy reason to go, maybe.

He did call from the several stops they made. Nice surprises as I have no feel for their schedule.

So, we are doing OK. Not cooking is good. Keeping my own schedule is good although I find I am following the same daily routine. Not the gym. But I was due for a break and I am having it.

Dinner with all of us tomorrow night. Then the end of summer, another month really. More 90s days and 70s nights.

Labels: home, John, Marcus

I was the first person from my family to go to college.

I do have to say that my cousin Phil went to a business school, two years. And flunked out.

I, on the other hand, as you may have heard, went to fucking MIT.

What was that like for my parents? What was it like for me?

The answer to both questions is nicely put together in this NYTimes Essay.

Taking My Parents to College

I can remember the day very clearly when they dumped me off on Ames Street in Cambridge.

Well, not really true. They did help me unload the car. But I couldn't get rid of them fast enough. Truth is that I dumped them.

They knew that. We had rehearsed this scene over and over.

High drama.

They did not stay with me. I had a week of "orientation" after all which, in reality, was pledge week at the fraternities.

And I had no intention whatsoever of joining a fraternity. None.

Why I felt this way (and still do) is still a bit of a mystery except for my clear identity as an introvert.

Every "advantage" that I heard about frat-life was a threat to my independence.

I did attend some functions. I went to a breakfast for freshman at some church so I could report home that I had tried that.

I went to an orientation that was held in my faculty adviser's home (everyone had one of these, use them or not, I did not)

Mostly I isolated.

Fortunately I was an avid non-drinker then. Had I been on the booze I would have been in the hospital. Instead, I suffered.

As it happened, there was another freshman in my dorm. And more miraculously, this kid was from Newfoundland PA which is only twenty miles from my hick town only hickier. The son of an undertaker.

He was so scared that we could not talk. Even I was less frightened than he was. I am sure today that, like me, he was gay. A queer in those years.

What saved me was the arrival in the dorm of the well entrenched sophomores, juniors and seniors who had lived in this unit "for years".

My roommate was a sophomore who was even more insecure than I was.

Arthur had terminal acne. The room smelled of his medication, that sulfur stuff. His voice had not broken yet. A clarinet player, he had buck teeth and, I am grateful, never played in the room but went to practice sessions of the school concert band. Which was excellent. Made records.

We did not get along but neither of us would admit it.

We stayed the year.

Then I found another kid in my freshman section, Chem Engineering, also a closet case and while we never ever did it our "sensibility", the brother hood of sissies, got us through two years before we finally had it with each other.

A long story. But I am sure all from repressed feelings for one another. I can still see his body. I will not elaborate. Oh. Those were the days!

So, where was I?

My parents wanted to know all the details of my life at MIT. I could share none of it.

Or wouldn't.

How could I tell them about the things that were happening to me? The real college things.

I could also not tell them about the fear and anxiety. The terrible ball clenching terror of class and the threat of failing. I had no alternatives.

They were, or I thought them to be (same things) a third world embarrassment.

I went home the first summer between freshman and sophomore years. Horrific. I was so unhappy.

I never went back after that. I had a dining hall job at MIT that I could segue into the summer, my course got me a lab job in a food manufacturing plant (a layabout job, full of fun, I learned how to be the rebel, my introduction to rebellious thinking in the corporate environment. See below) I lived on campus in a free room in the dining hall. I had so imbedded myself by this time that it was my true home. I can still smell that upper break room where I slept. It was seldom used because it was on the fourth floor. Soft furniture, a lounge. Wonderful! Soaked it in. The loner life was begun. The one I managed to lead until this very day. Alone but not. You have to be one to understand.

I had left my family behind. The house family, the extended family, I never went back.

I did honor my father and my mother (dad more than mom) and did the obligatory. But I was on my way and no one, not anyone, from my past came along.

I was a less than mediocre academic success but I excelled at the non-curricular. Dance committees, political office, just fucking around. I ended up my last year as the head captain of the dining hall. My former summer bedroom became a lounge for the staff. Blah blah blah.

Labels: family, home, MIT

Our "home" was and is always Provincetown MA.

We went there for years and in various configurations. We rented a second floor house for the summer, right on the beach. When we bought a house in Boston, we couldn't afford that so we went as often as we could and stayed at an inn on the East End.

This film based on drone photography brought tears to our eyes.

The quality of video is so improved.

I felt I could reach out and touch it.

We rented a place right in the center of town for six years. Near that big pier. Across from the Congo Church.

I can smell the bay.

The large crowds are there on Pride day. The big parade. Normally, busy but easy to navigate, we would do Commercial Street from one end to the other almost daily. Never a dull moment.

Blow it up to big full screen size.

Labels: home, provincetown

I have a number of stories, all nice, about the trip.

The last and best was my rather quiet but wonderful seat mate in the waiting room who actually gave me TWO blankets. I was sooooo cold. Do they have to have it that cold???? I am desertized. The thermostat now set at a nice 75 minimum temp as “cool”. Well, 72.

The house has had (gasp) changes but then what would we expect. The bedroom is a wonderfully dark dark grey, very dark, very restful. There is some suspiciously new looking art but that might just be the new setting. You know how I notice every subtle visual thing (hardly at all unless it is on my desk).

I can also say that if you cry upon the prospect and reality of meeting your man in an airport especially as he picks you up right out of the baggage claim in a Volvo convertible, kissing long enough to earn a honking rebuke from other drivers (I think meaning get out of the way, here every male kisses other males sort of) there is still a spark, a flame, a fire of love. The mountains were lovely coming in and now on the ground. The air is cool this morning at 80F/27C just as God meant it to be.

I had such a slew of email. A sample: “Hi it’s Jolene, wanna be my fuckbuddy?” (do straight people have “fuckbuddies”? Everything “the gays” do gets appropriated. Bloody hell. See? I picked up a “bloody”).

That is it. Sunrise soon.

I am up early as you can see. That is to be expected. I like it. It is 2 AM and my usual time is 3 so I am “right on time”.

Labels: home, travel

John got back home from Italy last night.

Booker and I went to pick him up.

We had a nice reunion. I think maybe Booker figured that he would have to deal with only one dad for the rest of his life. He was quite relieved to find this was not true.

I was relieved too.

I had done pretty well until last Friday when I got "aimless". A euphemism, I think, for lonely. Or missing my love. In any case, I just let the feelings roll and sat and read and read and sat and then somehow that phase got over and I was into anticipation and excitement.

The flights were faultless and we picked him up just as expected.

In the new car which he had never seen.

It passed muster. He has it out there now.

We had a short tutorial this morning but there is not that much that is new or unusual and what there is, as in all properly designed devices, is easy to figure out by simple trial and error and intuitive action.

I can't say things are back to normal yet. I made meat loaf today so that it could age into tomorrow and also be enough for six times.

Tonight, without thinking, I set up for American Chop Suey. Pasta. What was I thinking?

Not that he had any of that while he was away.

He seems happy about it.

It is different.

American, after all.

Labels: Booker, food, home, travel, Volvo

I have just taken all our DVDs and removed them from their jewel cases and put them in a nice big album.

It holds 352 of them. I hope never to fill it.

Here is a fact about DVDs. The cases are fucked from the get-go.

First, they are impossible to open without a majorly sharp tool. Those sticky end tapes hold on like lamprey eels. Only bandaids are harder to get off without pain.

Then, the design of the case itself has not evolved since 411 BC. They still have this reluctance to open. They have the spindle that you press for "easy out" removal. Try it. Several times. It helps if you say "goddamit" a couple of times. Or "Fuck Fuck Fuck" in rapid succession works too.

There is the worry that the removal may damage the disc so one worries about being too rough. But never mind. That is secondary. Damaged or not it does no good for us in the case.

There are some cases that have worked it out so that the four indentations around the disc are set so close you cannot even get your smallest fingernail in there to lift it out. If you ever are successful in depressing the spindle.

This is the result of modern plastics technology perhaps new since 411 BC. Fine machining possible now makes the space almost microscopic.

OK. Sooner or later it does come out of the case. Soaking the case and disc in hot water, incidentally, does not seem to help.

Out of the box, into the machine and two hours of viewing enjoyment. Almost worth it.

Once I have seen the DVD, there is no problem putting it back in. The problem begins after about the fifth DVD in the library when you try to stack or display or store them easily and visibly. From the side doesn't work very well. Too narrow to read. From the front? No. They are in a stack.

At about five it is OK to pick the pile up and old it/them in my hand. Widest grasp possible. After that it is lining up side to side in a row like books.

This is effective until another problem emerges.

The DVD case is a frictionless surface. Perfectly smooth. Each case tries to hug its mate but is disabled from doing so and, given any space between at all, will slide in another direction. Particularly if you pull out one disc and provide the small space. If two, then an avalanche.

So.

We have a lot of DVDs. Three rows about three feet wide. I have not counted.

When the width gets too far, then whole sections begin to collapse. And, something 6 inches high unnecessarily takes up a lot of available space in a cabinet.

So I found this "book". A big mother book, to hold the DVDs.

Downside is that the DVDs have to be moved and this necessitates taking the discs out of their case, mounting them in the nice no-stick nylon transparent sleeves. 6 to a page.

Remember the fucking spindle that doesn't release? Think "this is the last time". It doesn't sound onerous and it is not, if one focuses on the outcome. Neat, orderly, easy to handle.

Order. The perennial question for books, records, CDs and, now, the DVDs.

Chronological? No. Makes no sense. Some of the discs are of older films. Production date? Acquisition date?

No.

Alphabetical? No. No sense.

Subject? Well 90% of them are, in some way, gay. There are subcategories but, well, not really.

There are some obvious choices. Andres Téchine has five films in the folder, four of them from a collection. All together.

The Noah's Ark series and movie? All together.

Teen Wolf? The same. The third season on DVD is almost upon us.

And so on.

Beyond that, just pile them in. A like to force a little browsing.

In fact, the Téchine films need a going over in a small fest of their own. Another film "Adored: Diary of a Porn Star" is up for re-viewing too. A cheesy title for a wonderful film.

Another choice is around covers. The covers are, sometimes, worth seeing for a reminder, for a recap, for an inventory of scenes and extras. I kept these in the same order as the discs and held in a rubber band in case we really do look at them.

Job over. It took a week. Once I got in the groove it was automatic. I even dreamed about it one night.

I am pretty good at mechanical work once I can find the routine. Mindless work. Very good for mental health.

Another step toward mental health is the end of the DVD avalanche.

Labels: films, home

BIZZY

I had to do all the laundry and get the dishwasher in order because, as I type, John is in the air and due into LAX in two hours. He has one more flight to catch to PS and the plan is to pick him up at 9PM or so.

I saved up the laundry so that when he gets home there will be empty hampers. Room for his shit that he took with him.

The deal with the dishwasher is that when John is gone I work out of it. A short cycle between using a dish, putting it in the drainer, then washing and taking out again the next day. The same dishes and silver over and over.

That is not his method.

Tonight I will unload the d/w and just put in what I made today and that will be that.

It is a little hard to understand but it is simple for me.

I told you that I made the bed every day this week because people might come into the house. Visitors that need to use the bathroom.

I skipped the weekly house cleaning last Friday. You can't tell.

Well, except for the rugs which do have an excess of dried leaves on them. John thought I would want to vacuum while he was gone because it would be too difficult to see messy rugs.

He was wrong. I don't mind at all.

Labels: home, travel

ALONE TOGETHER

Booker and I have been alone together for almost five days now.

He has adapted quite well to the routine but there is something missing. It shows up on the morning walk. We are not going the paths that he travels with John.

Booker pretty much picks the route. Today he picked a cross desert walk that we have not used in a very long time. He has not gone to any of the places that he and John frequent.

He gets a case of the slows towards the end. Not the same. A bit depressing. Today was better. More lively right up to the very last block. Then, the "dogging it".

Me? I am doing fine. As well as can be expected. :>).

I am always pretty busy and have an iron clad routine but the gym is out because of the dog walking and I didn't have to go to the store today so there was extra time. I don't cook, more extra time.

I fill it in with some unusual entertaining shit that just comes to my mind. It is like a vacation.

The other day Booker and I took a ride in the afternoon. Ages since we have done that.

I have been watching some short films on YouTube as there are always a screen load of suggestions that come up when I use trailers for the films that I have seen.

John called today since he moved from Orvieto to Arezza.

He will call again Thursday half way through his stay in Arezza, the hub for a bunch of day trips including Assissi, Montefalco, Todi and Urbino.

Here is a shot of Arezza.

Labels: Booker, home, travel

ROYAL ENCOUNTER

Last night Booker and I were on the last leg of our hour walk. It is cooler, so we are hiking out of the complex and into the countryside again.

Ahead of us were two young women. One had a sparkling tiara on her head.

I said "You must be the Homecoming Queen". I read the paper on line and had seen her picture.

She beamed and said she was but actually "a Homecoming Princess". She was quite beautiful and charming. A friend was with her and she was as pleased as the Princess to be recognized.

Fun. Nice kids.

The High School is on the other end of our walking range, east versus west. They were going home.

The sun was on that tiara and it sure sparkled.

Here she is in the local "paper".

Palm Spring High Kicks Off Homecoming.

I have tried to find out what else happens other than a big game this weekend. Alumni for sure. A dance? I should have asked but I was too awed by royalty and the tiara, I guess.

Booker was unimpressed.

Labels: Booker, home

WEIGHT

I am feeling the weight of being alone. I mean this in a good way.

I have been glad for the experience of "handling things" while John is in Italy but, at the same time, I am aware that just because someone is gone, there is the family life to continue. The dishes, the laundry, making the bed, walking the other half of the dog. Yes. There are those things.

But more, the space. Someone is not here. Booker reflects this nicely. He gets little mini-depressions. He knows that the morning walk isn't the way it is supposed to be. And so on.

I am the same way. The days have a piece missing.I had thought that I would have a lot of time and space being alone. That is not the case. I did add a few chores, pruning the hibiscus, cutting down the "garden" to the gravel. Getting ready for a new courtyard.

Anyway, there it is.

Maybe this means that I miss him. Busy work doesn't relieve that.

He goes back to Milan tomorrow from Cinque Terre and then leaves there Friday AM and is due back later Friday night.

Labels: Booker, home, life

I HAVE RETURNED

I left San Diego this morning at 4AM, hit the overlook on Rt. 74, the Palm to Pines scenic route (thanks to David whatshisname for the copyrighted picture, I had sunrise) and pulled into the condo complex at 615.

And I had stopped for blueberries which ran out while I was gone. Well, not a day was missed but today would have been berry-less.

I view the larder my responsibility regardless of where I am staying.

I had a good time.

I stayed one day more than in past years and it worked pretty well.

I would have felt bad coming back yesterday and by yesterday evening I was tired of the noisy bar in front of the dining room and had pretty much topped out on the boat ramp as entertainment.

The biggest thing was that it was cold. Low seventies. I am not kidding. I felt as though I was freezing. My friend Tom who has a place here and at the beach says it is the humidity that makes it feel more chilly. I kept the heat on at a low level for the night times.

The weather was great. Misty mornings and sunny days after 10AM or so.

I got a lot of walking in. Four miles a day in two bursts. One before breakfast and another while they were doing my room up. I get them to come first thing.

The place is still very nice and, if anything, has improved a bit. The dining is better, more variety and very well done. I do not go out.

The only disappointment was that, this year, there were no seals at the boat ramp. Probably because, except for Sunday, the boat traffic, coming in with fish entrails and chum, was a lot lower. The economy?

A weird thing. I saw more kayaks than ever before. Double kayaks, groups of kayakers, solos that went by in front of the ramp area from way up the beach. Kayaks.

I will go back again. I was ready to leave but I do love being there. I read two and a half books, wandered the island, gawked at runners (male, mostly sailors and marines) and just hung out. Hanging is good even for a retired guy.

Labels: desert, home, life

BURN OUT

The air conditioning stopped working late yesterday.

Fortunately the contractor with whom we have a service agreement still had technicians out on the road and a guy was here by 630PM.

I left him to it and took Booker for his short hot weather night walk. When I came back it was running.

The service guy went through the routine and found that the compressor had kicked out either from overheating or an electrical surge.

He poured some water on the compressor to cool it off and reset it. So far so good.

I found out today that there have been a lot of power surges in the desert and that could be the reason. One of my workout friends is an AC guy.

There is no definitive answer. If it goes out again they will have to delve more deeply.

In the meantime, it has been working very well today.

Labels: condo, home, repairs

CLOSING PLUS ONE

Today, a year ago, we closed on our old house and ended a long, wonderful phase of our life.

I had ended up going to the place every day until the final step and it was hard, for awhile, to give it all up. The worrying about things and all.

The buyer helped this along by being a bit helpless and taking me up on my offer to be a resource to him.

This is my nice guy syndrome. No one told me fuck about the place when I took it over except where the front door was.

But I had the benefit of the gardener and the pool guy and so on. They were a great help.

Not so for our buyer. He pissed them all off and fired all of them. They didn't care because he was always late paying their bills. In other words, a prick.

When I felt like I was still living there and worrying about how it was going, my friend Tom suggested that I go count the money we earned out of the deal. That helped a lot and the buyer eventually quit calling. Especially when I didn't answer for awhile. I had his name on my call list so I knew. I don't blow anyone else off like that.

I learned something.

Labels: condo, history, home, life

EMPTY NEST

Some Easter.

The family is not complete.

Booker and I are alone this weekend.

John is visiting his friends Bill and George in Las Gatos.

This means that Book and I have a lot of latitude on how we run our lives for two days.

This morning we went on the walk a bit early and traversed many adjacent areas including the notorious Warm Sands area. Sadly, no one was out and about. The desperate had gone home and the successful were happily warm in their beds.

We explored the dropped food possibilities at the big shopping center and peed on the shrubs at the big Lutheran Church in anticipation of tomorrows holiday grand slam.

Then home and a relatively quiet day of normality.

I don't think that we will have an egg hunt tomorrow. Booker has a tendency to eat rather than hide eggs. He has never had chocolate of course and this is not the time to start.

John comes back tomorrow night late and will cab home. We did drop him off at 4'ish in the afternoon but three hours past bedtime is a bit much.

All together again for a normal week by Monday.

Labels: holidays, home, travel

DUST STORM

This is scalping season.

The annual grass here is Bermuda. By default.

It was planted on all the golf courses and it is like a weed, a plague for everyone else as it is a prolific seeder.

So, in defense, everyone plants Bermuda grass. More seed.

The advantage is that it loves heat. The disadvantage is that it doesn't like cold.

So every year, they scalp. They basically scrape the grass down to its roots to air and to reroot. Then they plant an annual rye grass on top of it. The rye comes on fast and stays until the Bermuda grips again in the warmth of the spring.

Scalping raises a shit load of dust. We are sneezy and runny for a few days.

Here in our new condo complex, we wondered if there was scalping as it was getting late to do it.

But, of course, there is scalping. And they have just done it and we are awash in dust. It will be cleared away soon and we will have new grass but for a few weeks everything looks dead.

There is also a lot of controversy in the HOA about how to best handle the scalp. This is on top of a complicated and historical division about a lot of things.

We knew that our HOA would be like everyone elses. Divisive. Filled with competitive and angry assertions.

Fine.

It is democracy in action. Messy.

We are keeping out of it. At least I am. I am out of the "contention business".

Besides, I have no idea what the best scalping technique is. Or if there is a need for actual scalping at all. Or whether we ought to do away with lawns entirely.

The various sides of the many issues have the activists storming. it will all settle down soon. Or not.

Labels: condo, home, horticulture

FALL PLANTING

I went and got some more cactus today.

Three to fill an empty pot that sat/sits on the entrance corner to our front courtyard.

I put three different tall babies in with some stones.

They don't attract a lot of attention on their own but they balance a big pot of a many stemmed cactus on the other side corner near the AC stall. And, of course, the table of cactus that we put in a few weeks ago.

I also found a few little cacti to fill out the table.

Out back, on the patio (the courtyard is front, the patio is back) there have been two empty pots on either side and I bought lantana plants for them. Yellow.

They are in bright sun six months of the year and bright shade the other six.

Flowers need sun. We will see how this all turns out.

That about completes the planting we will have here. Of course, there will be replacements and if present projects, like the horsetails, fail then we will have to fix.

But for now, the only thing that needs to be done is the pruning of the big palo verde that sits in the middle of the courtyard and the California oleander that looms over the new little cactus.

That will be done when the visitors, who are due on Thursday, depart. I don't want them to see stubby trees.

Labels: garden, home, horticulture

TOTAL COMFORT

We have been in the new home for three months now.

I was reflecting this morning on how comfortable it seems to me.

I realized that a lot of this comes from the fact that this particular space enfolds all our important stuff that we have accumulated into its own design. It makes all the parts into a new whole.

We have always been comfortable. Even when we lived with rented furniture in an apartment before moving out here. But this is different.

I am sure that it has to do with me and where I am at but I think that there is also something about the design of our place. Its height, 13 feet. Its light. Several clerestory windows. Its layout. Just uses every inch and somehow makes all our art and possessions stand out.

There is also a flow to activities. No retraced steps. Good design.

We are also located in a quiet corner with good neighbors. We feel secure outside as well as inside.

I suppose that, with time, there will be some glitches show up. Some sore spots. But so far, no. Not yet. Only total comfort.

Labels: condo, home

THE COOL WALK

Since we moved here, the evening walk has been hot and not too energizing. We normally have taken the loop through the complex, figure eights along the paths. Sometimes, we have crossed over to the tennis club. Balls! Squirrel holes.

All that has changed now as the weather has taken another turn toward the cooler. We had the doors open by dinner time tonight.

Booker has designed a great new walk for us to take before dark. It is quite different than when we lived over in The Mesa which was more about houses and condos and, of course, a trail here and there.

Over here we have a whole different world. More people, more structures, more, lusher grass and parks.

We go east to the park areas and walk to the Pavilion Road which goes past the baseball stadium (now silent) and then the high school fields where there are hundreds of kids coming out or going out for football. Noise, action. Some are right up next to the fence.

It is very exciting.

Then a southerly turn to the Pavilion (basically an exhibition hall that used to serve before the convention center opened), the big swimming pool and the skateboard park.

We turn west before the skateboard park. Too scary. We bite skateboarders or try to.

Then through the really wonderful tree and grass acreage that surround the library, the Boys and Girls Club and the Senior Center.

He just bounces his way through the area. There are also things to nibble if you can find them and fool your dad into letting you walk in their direction.

It is a great walk.

It is cool.

He bounces and, to tell the truth, so do I.

Labels: Booker, condo, home

SOCIAL SWIM

We have settled in pretty well here.

We know our neighbors. I can hold a halfway decent period of small talk with all of them that I know. About 9 or 10 at this point. If you count the dog people, well maybe 14 or 15. Of course, with dog people the small talk is mostly about dogs but that is OK.

This is better than I had done in a year or two at the old place.

I hadn't anticipated another venue for social contact. The swimming pool.

At first, there were very few people there. A couple of the people I knew already and "the old lady" who seems to live there. We are not sure whether she has a condo here or not!

Well, I am sure she does but she is at the pool all day most days. In the shade. She doesn't speak. More introverted than me.

Otherwise, lately, there have been groups of "strangers".

Over the weekend, we had aliens who were unaccompanied guests for a unit across from us. They were not too annoying but one day they had a dog in the pool area. A definite no-no. John saw that. Actually two no-nos. You must accompany guests but these aren't the first we have encountered. You can lease your condo but it has to be a month long lease. We aren't sure whether to report this or not.

They were force-friendly as in "don't mind us, just move our stuff if it is in your way". That kind of friendly. Passive aggressive friendly.

There was a kid. There was a baby.

The first time I went over and saw them, I was a little cramped on time so I just retreated.

But then, thought better of it. I can't retreat everytime someone else is there. Well, I could but I have a feeling that when the snow birds come back there will be people there a lot of the time. Legal or not.

So I went back the next day and they weren't there! No prob-a-lem.

Then, yesterday they were back and I just went in and got a chaise. Me and my force field.

I dove in "my" side of the pool. "No Diving Allowed". My version of passive aggressive. Transgressive behavior. I am an expert. Just a little here and there. A mild power play. It works.

They were OK. I was OK. They are gone.

Today, I was there awhile with just the old lady and then four obviously gay guys came. Two couples? Don't know. I was sunning. Looked up. No eye contact. When it was time (ten minutes) I dove into the pool. They didn't even blink.

They were OK. I said "good afternoon", very formal. They replied. That was it.

They are condo owners because they discussed the current fund drive to "calm" the traffic on Baristo Road, right behind us. Apparently there are people more upset about it than we are. We gave 200 bucks. 10% of the goal. More sucking up. The prez and the treasurer are neighbors. I am not above that.

Anyway, the guys were fine. I was fine.

John asked if they were worth a visit to the pool to look at. That is my husband all over. Looks trump everything.

I said that the best I could say about them is that they were all "Bears".

A Bear is a gay man who has gotten chunky and is hairy and, on the market, might not have had a lot of capital until one or two smart chunky hairy men invented the Bear brotherhood and now they are everywhere. They substitute cheeriness and a sort of non-gay-stereotypical elan for whatever they lack in the A list looks department. And they are winners for it.

It is a great marketing coup and it has been great for the Bears. They even have conventions. And Cubs. And Bear chasers who aren't Bears. And they have fun.

There was a small convention in the pool. I am not a cub. Nor a chaser. So, there you are. Just diving in and past and on to my chaise.

I said "goodbye" and they sort of looked at me.

Just what I want. An introvert's paradise. An old lady that doesn't speak, outsiders who are too guilty about it to be a pain and Bears who just want to be with each other.

Suits me fine.

Labels: condo, gay life, home

TEARDOWNS?

The market for architectural "gems" is down.

We just sold a conventional home for about as much as some of these are going in LA. Well, one that is mentioned.

Architectural Gems Languish in California Home Market

I have either walked or been dragged through a lot of this kind of place.

They are great to look at and have a lot of caché as stars in the design firmament but when you look closely at them it is very clear that they are a bastard to keep up.

A lot of them are aging now. And not all of them well.

A number weren't all that snug against the drafts and water in the first place.

I like the pictures though.

We have a lot of these classic mid-century homes in Palm Springs. I don't know how they are doing.

We live in a condo designed by a local, well appreciated and known, architect built in the 80s. It is holding up well but the HOA is engaged in constant maintenance.

Of course, no one is going to tear any of these houses down. Some of them are designated.

The trouble with designation is that the ones who designate aren't the ones to pay for the maintenance.

After two months, I can tell you that we are breathing a lot easier at having a 50 year old house out of the way and in someone else's hands. He will take care of it.

It has been a bit of a burden. If it had also been a landmark house, we would have been even more engaged in upkeep.

It is our time to relax. I wish the owners of these beauties well.

Labels: condo, culture, history, home