"Hey, was your father a terrorist? No? Because you're da bomb."
That line was used on me in downtown Provo by a transient a while back, when my co-worker Teresa and I were wearing our matching green coats from Nordstrom Rack and getting paid to roll a huge cement mold (sonotube) down the sidewalk on Center Street and 300 West. I told Teresa I wanted to get inside the sonotube and see if she could roll me down the street while I was in it. We died laughing...and trying.
Are you still reading this? Even though there are no pictures and you might not know what a cement mold is? No wait, here's a pic.
Hold onto that thread and here's another one because now this post is about Grey Gardens, a film about two former socialites in East Hampton who ended up living as recluses with raccoons and lots and lots of cats. And their excrement.
Last night I watched the ending of Grey Gardens for the second time, not on our little TV but on the world's largest screen which is located next door at my in-law's five-star residence of comfort and earthly delights, and zero dust. Their craftsman house is where I go when needing a break from my cottage of compost and garden dirt. And Grey Gardens looks very different on their enormous screen. For instance I could tell that elder Edie's eyes were clouded, maybe she was going blind? And couldn't see the squalor? And I know from experience that even the most vivid stench can disappear after a few minutes. Kinda like yesterday when my mother-in-law came over and started opening all my doors to let air circulate because my house stunk of ashwaganda root (I was accustomed to the stench but I assure you it smells like a house full of concentrated horse sweat).
This time as I watched Grey Gardens I wasn't quite so horrified by the state of their house and could enjoy the mother and daughter relationship. Eccentric old ladies are da bomb. But still how did they let their home become such a shambles? And this is where I am so scared by their fate. Eccentric and clean, yes. eccentric and dirty? eeeeeeee. panic. PANIC. Because to some degree I recognize that tendency to carve out a little space and let the rest be chaotic.
I am pressing reset on my housewifery.
And O'lover happens to have vacation time in the next couple of weeks. So we're going to be finishing all sorts of projects and then...we are getting rid of salvaged materials we've hoarded and that a friend (we love you!) has put in our back garage.
Plus we're having a yard sale.
And do you feel sorry for Ollie that this is his vacation time? Me too! So maybe we can spice up cleaning out the garages and putting in window screens with some creative use of materials. Like making stilts out of 2x6s and old climbing rope?
Besos and wish us luck! And don't come over unless you want to practice your circus act or clean things up. =)