So friends, I owe you some stories. I've been in the new house for more than a month. Can you believe it? Me neither. It's so very beautiful. I find that my favorite parts end up being a patch of wall brought to life by some mish mash of mixing old and new. I am so sad that I don't even have a digital camera so that I can show you. I wish I had a fairy to bring me things.
I live in a neighborhood three blocks off of Interstate 10. I kind of like this only for the fact that people as far away as Los Angeles also live off of my thoroughfare. The other night while walking the woofie to the little park two blocks away, through the dip, past the kiddie seats on springs, I met a new neighbor. Why is it that you always remember the dog's name and not the master? Grant I think it was, and Charlie was the pupper. He told me that on my street a vato gang used to run amok in some run down houses and block off the road to have their parties. He also said that a year or so ago the city finally knocked down a big house a stone's throw from mine that had real hookers and crack addicts. Do you think he was just telling me stories? I must have missed all the color because there's none of that now.
This neighborhood is your standard inner city, new town home gentrifying spot--me in the town home, my next door neighbors in the little old house with two rentals behind it, a homemade can recycling business in the inner courtyard and a fantastically kept garden taking over much of their land. Last Saturday night I returned home around midnight, sleepy as ever, changed in the dark, but somehow caught a glimpse out my window of this Tejano dance party happening just below. I slid down the wall next to the window so that I could sit and watch them for awhile.
Hmm, those are my best stories for now. I am having house guests this weekend and a Sunday barbecue to warm the place up. Looking forward to it.
I'll post more pics soon.