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Showing posts with label a love story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a love story. Show all posts

Sunday, July 12, 2026

A Fabulous Peck on the Cheek, Next Week a Kick in the Pants


 This was when the house was arriving-

I got such a kick out of an event that happened this week, well, two of them. I’m of the sort who, when I see or taste something stupendous, I have to run out and tell someone. You know, when we taste something really superb, we offer a bite to our spouse or friend, and say, “Oh, this is so good, here, try this.” The same works, though, if we taste something awful, “Augh, this is terrible, here taste this.”

Okay, first off, this is about moving our tiny house:

One reason I thought this driver was so superb was that I used to drive a pickup truck pulling a horse trailer, and whenever I needed to back it up, I broke out in a sweat. So, when the moving fellow said he would back his truck into our gravel driveway that runs alongside our regular drive and back to where the tiny house is parked under an RV- high roof, I said, “No way you can back into there.”

He said he could do it, and he did. He had changed his mind about using the Mule—a remote-controlled small tractor, and decided to use the truck instead.

Amazing. With a truck a half a block long, the cab reaching into the branches of our Magnolia tree alongside the driveway, carrying the Mule in a space behind the cab, and pulling a trailer longer than our house, he made it back to within inches of the tiny house.

The creative-thinking driver, with his magic trailer and remote-control device, lowered the back of the trailer to the ground, much like the bucket on a Bobcat, except it was 12 feet wide. He scooched the trailer loading ramp under the 4 x 4’s that supported the house, lifted, scooted, lifted, scooted until suddenly wheels appeared from beneath the trailer like landing gear descending from beneath an airplane, and settled in under the house.  With his remote control, the operator moved the entire house sideways to within an inch of the fence on one side and an inch to a tree limb on the other. He even cut a limb with his chainsaw and kept adjusting the house to line it up perfectly with the narrow driveway.  


A tight fit--top roof be gone.

When the house was completely off the ground and onto that trailer, he got in the truck and drove it out.

We still have the tiny house.

It’s parked in our graveled driveway.

We can show it for sale there and have it moved again when we get a a buyer. That tiny house is no longer trapped under that RV high overhead. We had to remove its roof to make space to lift the house, because dragging it out was dangerous.  

Want to buy a tiny house?


 

Don’t put your mother-in-law in it, unless she is very agile, for the bed, a full, brand new mattress is on rollers and slides easily under the raised kitchen floor. That arrangement is enormously better than the cramped loft, the only thing that was in the bare-boards house when we bought it. (Daughter Dear thought a tiny house would be a contribution to inexpensive housing. And it was her art project.)

She got rid of that loft right away—too claustrophobic. Now the building is insulated, beautifully plastered, and has a large tiled shower and a complete bathroom.

One of the contractors told us we could rent it for about $800 a month. Rent it out on Airbnb it,or live in it. Daughter Dear doesn’t have time to work on it anymore, and rather than have a carpenter come in and finish it, she figured that the owners could have a discount to purchase it if they complete it. That way they can put their own stamp on it.)

All the component parts are included except for a kitchen counter, and some elbow grease —you choose the counter. Being a tile aficionado, my daughter tiled the entire wall, in light brick above the kitchen cabinets. The bamboo flooring is provided, half in the bathroom is complete. There is slate tile for the kitchen. The sink, refrigerator, stove, faucets, lights, room heater, hot water heater, and a new mattress are provided.  The wiring was professionally installed. Water can be provided from a faucet. Toilet and drains need to be plumbed beneath the house. With an extension cord, a garden hose, and a composting toilet, it could be self- sufficient, provided you could dispose of gray water. You know, like in that back 40.

Door tile detail. 


 And now, the second magnificent find this week: It’s a love story as told to me a long time ago by a member of my family.

 


One thing about being a writer is that you find pages you wrote years ago and forgot about them, so when you find them, it’s a surprise. I found this old story, tucked away in the garage. It was the inside pages to a Newsletter I wrote ages ago.

My family member who is no longer with us, said it was about her sister.

When the sister was 28 years old and had just left a romantic relationship, she decided she knew there was one thing she wanted. That was a child.

So, when an old boyfriend rolled into town, she took advantage of the situation, struck up another rendezvous, became pregnant, and was prepared to be a single mother.

The baby was born at 28 weeks of gestation, had problems for a time, but survived, grew, and was healthy.

Sister rented an apartment (Where? I don’t know, this sounds like New York). The apartment was on the third floor, a walk-up. The owners, a Jewish couple, lived on the first floor, the second was rented, and the sister had the third.

The owners agreed to care for the baby while sister worked, and they decided they had another task. That was finding a husband for sister.

When the second-floor tenant left, leaving the apartment available, the owners held out on renting it until they had the perfect tenant. That left the apartment vacant for quite some time. The sister thought it just didn’t rent.

But then it did. To a nice single man.

One day, after her sister picked up her baby from the owners on the first floor, she walked from the second to the third. The man saw her upstairs, fumbling with her keys as she tried to get into her apartment while holding the baby. She had just had her wisdom tooth extracted and was swollen up like a cantaloupe. On top of that, she had Bell’s Palsy, which causes one side of the face to droop. (Some people recover from this, some don’t.)

The man came up behind her and said, “You look awful. Let me hold the baby for you so you can get some rest.”

They fell in love and got married.

The Jewish couple paid for the wedding.

 

 

Thursday, June 26, 2025

On Movies, Writing, and Titles, Oh My

Help, It's the Dark Side

 

Blog June 24, 25

Well, last night, I made it halfway through the Star Wars Movie Prequel III: The Revenge of the Sith. The Supreme Chancellor Palpatine reminded me too much of our present Political administration; I didn't want to see Anakin Skywalker seduced to the dark side—I didn't want to see him turned into Darth Vader; I didn't want to watch Padme' die.

Did I give away too much? I don't think so; I believe you already know the plot. 

 We have too much darkness going on right now; I don't need to watch more, no matter how much angst a plot needs. I went to my office while the rest of my family finished the movie. (My Grandson had never seen the Star Wars series until the beginning of last month, so now he is going through them with his mother and us—when I choose to participate—and his mother has the evening off.) 

 

Once back in my office, I turned to the second item on Barbara Kingsolver's list of advice for writers.

Number one is "Give Yourself permission to write a bad book.

Done.

Number two is "Revise it until it's not a bad book."

Working on it.

I have written a novel: MADDIE, ALEX, AND GABE, Love, from the Cottage in the Vineyard.

Will that title stick? I don't know.

Madeline, 72, a widow, calls her daughter Alexandria in New York from California to tell her she is moving to Florence, Italy, for one year. (A retirement visa isn't easy to obtain, but one can get it for a year.) Her daughter has a fit for a 72-year-old woman to go traipsing off alone and to be out of the country; what if something happens to her?

Madeline decides it's time to put aside the emotional barb that has plagued her for the past twenty years, and Italy is the place to do it.

Toward the end of the book, Madeline decides to blog and has this to say:

"I am writing backward, I know. However, I will begin at the beginning in a minute. Right now. I have a pregnant daughter, aged 40, who is unmarried. The boisterous Bernardi family, owners of our cottage and hosts of our wedding, have adopted us. Ninety-year-old Signora Francesca Bernardi has been my friend, confidant, and mentor. Their handyman wooed me; I rescued an injured pup, named him Little Bear, and he has become my forever dog. Beautiful Gabriel Brandon rescued me and has become my forever love.

"I thought I had come to Italy to take stock of my life and to lay to rest a carryover from my marriage. In the process, I found love.

"I love our cottage and our new house next to it. I love that I will be a grandmother. Gabe is so puffed up at being a grandfather that a flight crew couldn't deflate him. But what if Alexandria decides to go alone and be a single mother? Her love-sick suitor, son of the Bernardi’s, and whom we have grown to love, will be left with a broken heart."—Madeline Brandon.

Did I give away too much? Probably.

Charge ahead, dear writers. And readers, don't be afraid to read fiction or write a bad book; remember that the best writing often comes from rewriting. The fun is thinking it up in the first place.

Lucus must have been fried after writing Star Wars.