I am really going to miss The Lesbians when they return to the States.
Our little group is an odd assortment: The Old Geezers, The Texan Couple, The Lesbians and Me.
The Lesbians have a trailer with a big bodega next to The Old Geezers' place. For weeks The Old Geezers would say "the girls are coming" or "the girls' departure got delayed" or "the girls should be here on Saturday." I was looking forward to meeting the girls and they did not disappoint. Wonderful generous women in their early 60s who own a successful gallery and have been together about 20 years. They plan on selling their home and business and living here full-time. I'll be here when they return for a visit in January but I imagine I'll be gone by the time they retire.
As with The Home of Dashed Hopes, I often marvel at the diversity of people gathered around a campfire or around a bodega table. Retirees, conservatives, liberals, gringos, hispanics, hippies, construction workers, all the rest. Even though someone may say something that makes my liberal nerve-endings recoil in fear ("that camel-driver" Mrs. Old Geezer said when referring to a Middle-eastern doctor), mostly we're fairly tolerant of the other and let such comments go unremarked.
Also as with The Home of Dashed Hopes, I'll probably never again see the people I've gotten closest to and I fear that will be the case with The Lesbians. Although maybe not. I'll know where to find them unlike some of the construction workers who moved on to new jobs or snowbirds who returned to the northern parts of the US.
If I could make some money, let's say over the internets, would I stay here? I'm pretty sure the answer is 'no'. At least not while I'm living in this trailer which is too confining when the summer is here, and not while I'm sola. As a single woman I need a bar. I need a place where I can sit and talk to people and even if they have spouses waiting for them at home, at least for the time in the bar I am conversing one-on-one and not feeling like an intruder or a 3rd, 5th, 7th wheel.
Last night The Lesbians grilled steaks and potatoes for the above-mentioned group which included Raul, the fisherman who had taken them out in his boat that day. Not that it mattered all that much, but I was glad there were 8 of us, a nice even number.
My contributed appetizer was a success, a most brilliant idea (#4) that came to me in the middle of the night. I made California Rolls with tortillas instead of rice. I called it "Mushi" instead of "sushi". Crab, cream cheese, cucumbers and avocados. I made quite a production of displaying my dish to the group, setting the plate on the table, pulling a matching set of big clam shells from my bag, then soy sauce and.....wasabi lime mustard! We used the shells as dipping bowls and mixed the soy sauce with the mustard and even Mr. Texas tried one and liked it. Raul liked it, too.
The Skeeper and his wife get here Saturday for a week or two. The Lesbians will leave on Sunday. A revolving door, people moving in and out of my life.
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2 comments:
Your stories remind me a lot of working at the bar outside Sacramento. The nicest people in the world would come in, buy you a drink, ask about your day and MEAN it you know? Like they really cared. And then you'd hear then drop the "N" word or say something like "why would you want to go to San Francisco with all them gays?"
Why do rednecks have to be so nice??
charlotte, i miss your stories about the bar in sacramento. i could relate to that place. it sounded like my kind of bar.
yep, rednecks can be nice. i think they do okay one-on-one, that it's just groups of 'others' that they don't like. like my bar in southern arizona, all those rednecks liked the gay bartender. he was good at his job. and gave away a lot of free drinks. hey, whatever works.
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