Archive | August, 2019

House For Sale

28 Aug

I made Rob look at a house for sale on Cape Cod.

To clarify, we are not in the market to buy a house, nor do we know where we will eventually buy a house (if we ever buy a house!)

caveat 

caveat

caveat

But this house!

Oh it’s a good one.

But this house!

Oh the mortgage would be less than our rent.

It looks like a little cottage out of a fairytale. Barn meets Cape Cod. Shingles with an outdoor shower. A deck made for string lights and card nights. A clothes line.

There’s something so romantic about a clothes line, about a white dress fluttering in the salty breeze. About packing a picnic for a beach that lies just beyond the backyard.

I’ve picked out the tile for the kitchen. I’d turn the loft space into a guest room slash library slash play room.

The bookshelves would be millennial pink and I wouldn’t care.

Every year I’d send out colorful invitations to my closest people, inviting them to stay that summer, to borrow our deck and our beach and our bookshelves.

Whenever I imagine having kids, it’s always in a home like this. There’s shakshuka or an oatmeal bake or cinnamon toast in the oven. The windows are open. We run off to the beach or the pond or grandma’s house. We eat fish stew in thrifted bowls. Dolly lounges in a slice of buttery sun.

I made Rob look at a house for sale on Cape Cod.

Two weeks later the house sold.

I am surprisingly hurt, surprisingly invested for someone with

caveats

caveats

caveats

 

PS: A dream home in Malibu

The Books of Cape Cod

1 Aug

Some years I remember perfectly.

There was The Goldfinch year, 2014. It was the book of the moment, or so it felt. Everyone had an opinion. 

It took me all week to read it and by the end, the pages of the book were salty and bubbled. The whole trip defined by that monster of a story.

There was 2018, the year my mother-in-law and I both read The Big House. I marveled how we had selected twin 14-year-old books, her from a garage sale on Cape Cod, me from the Santa Monica library. How we had both ended up that same week with the same family history.

Other years are less clear.

I believe I read Beautiful Ruins in 2013.

I have a memory of sitting on the white cloth couch and listening to Rob’s grandma paint a picture of Italy. A flash of that dramatic cover abandoned on the table at a house party

In 2016 I was volunteering at a library and I brought two out-of-character nonfiction books recommended by the adult librarian: 

How to be a Heroine by Samantha Ellis

It Ended Badly: Thirteen of the worst breakups in history by Jennifer Wright

The only thing I remember from either book was a creepy fact from It Ended Badly which later seemed to relate, urgently, to a friend’s creepy relationship.

This is all I remember.

(My friend’s relationship ended badly.)

In 2017 I was getting married and for the first and only time I didn’t read on the sandy beaches of Cape Cod. Days were filled with family and preparation, hostessing and listening to Morty the mouse.

If my Goodreads is right, I read The Light of the World on the airplane over to Boston, though I truly do not remember this book. You could tell me anything you wanted about it, and I would believe it.

It’s about dinosaurs? Well the blurb says it’s a memoir about marriage, but it could be a memoir about a dinosaur marriage! 

I’m still not convinced I’ve actually read it.

I do know I was planning a wedding that year.

And then there was 2015.

It appears I was loosey-goosey with my Goodreads habits in 2015, marking books read but not giving dates, everything fuzzy and haphazard. I searched through my library holds and read through old blog posts and 

and

and

I just do not know what was going on in 2015.

Can I sit in this mystery?

It’s now 2019.

A new Cape Cod trip is upon me.

I currently have 

3 physical books

4 Kindled British stories (unavailable in the States) 

16 ebooks checked out through the library

 

I am ready and open to all possibilities.

I am ready and open to the magic of it unfolding, page after bubbled, salty page.