Showing posts from July, 2010

The Hook Up Rev 1

Fred and Kathy both opened the doors of the SUV at the same time, stepping down to the sandy earth one foot at a time. The three younger kids were imprisoned in their car seats; two in the second row and one in the back. The older two were wedged in between, wearing exasperated expressions from the ride, the heat, and the fact that they had to waste their summer at the beach in Southern California when all their friends were staying on the lake or heading to that expensive resort in Canada just across the border near home. Fred lifted up the hatch to get at the newly purchased beach chairs, shoved in the back behind the seat. He handed two each to the older kids and then began pulling the canopy from the roof where it was secured with several bungee cords. We should've left the motel earlier, he thought, as he surveyed the stretch of sand lining the ocean front. There’s got to be over a thousand people here already. How the heck am I supposed to find a place to put this thing u

The Green House Rev 1

Thank god for the trolley system, they thought as they hopped off at the corner of Leucadia Blvd and Orpheus. For the last decade since the oil ran out and gasoline fueled cars became obsolete, local and state government agencies had finally been forced to work together to deliver a workable transportation system.. Heading south on Orpheus, they spotted the first flag, waving wildly in the ocean breeze and silently announcing an open house. Sally waved her right wrist over the scanner near the front gate and Paul did the same- allowing them to enter the property together. It was so nice to be able to look at the place without a pesky real estate agent hovering on every word. The pathway through the vegetable garden looked like gravel but was soft and spongy- obviously some sort of recycled material. Every window on the front of the house was a different shape and size, but the placement of each opening had been carefully planned to give it a balanced aura in the late morning sun.

Red Light District Rev 1

I just dropped by for a glass of wine while I was walking the dogs. When Ginny is home and her front door is ajar, it’s like a red light for a prostitute, Bar’s open, companionship welcomed. I told her I had to pee, and she waved me towards the bathroom in the hall saying “Excuse the mess; I just got home from a trip.” I closed the door behind me and took care of business. I’d had garlic for lunch and it had upset my stomach. The taste was still lingering on my tongue, and the smell on my fingertips. Maybe I’ll use a bit of toothpaste and brush the inside of my mouth. It might also make my fingers smell minty which would be an improvement over the garlic. I pulled opened the left drawer and found it was full of bottles of nail polish and used emery boards. Odd to put that in the top drawer I thought. The second drawer was stuck and almost came out of the cabinet as it opened. I let out a gasp fearing that my neighbor would suspect what I was up to if it hit the floor.  How embarr

Footprints Rev 2

Dry sand erupted beneath my flip flops as I trailed the dogs down to the waterline at dog beach. Spadefuls crunching and scattering like handfuls of rice on a hardwood floor, a few grains detaching from a the herd Off like the wind, paws slapping the wet mucky quicksand along the shoreline, the rising tide receding into the horizon scattering crystal bubbles in a random pattern overlapping and repeating as they slalomed across each other’s tracks . Tiny knatty insects diving into ribbons of kelp washed ashore during the last high tide, round and round like a miniature tornado. The pups joyfully leap into the spongy slippery piles of ocean greens and roll around wriggling their bodies until the pungent smell permeates their fur. Then they are off, greeting the other canine visitors, dashing into the pack with uninhibited yelping and whooping, veering south to the abandoned Starbucks muffin someone left behind. Score! Footsteps above me, creaking planks giving way as others cross o

Martinique Rev 1

It’s a warm tropical night in Martinique. I’ve been here for 2 days and the weather has been perfect, warm but with a breeze and cloud cover. I spent today with James and Scott, life partners and business partners in a hair salon, in a suburb of Milwaukee. I’m not too sure about Scott’s background but I do know his mother is alive because he mentions her frequently. James is classically handsome, an Adonis, chiseled features and a great body. His father is supposedly the last of the mafia dons- although his hair is blonde, and he looks more Scandinavian than Italian. I’d met them on the plane from Miami to Guadalupe. Air France- free booze on the Club Med express. They were trading hair cuts for beads, the currency used at the club for call drinks, and extras. The disco was open tonight and Scott and James and I , and Lila from NY, Debbie from Dallas (no, not that Debbie), Brad from Redondo and the brothers from Newport- were all getting primed in the boy’s pavilion room, one of