So... the boyfriend and I spent the weekend moving stuff into the new house. Just about all that's left is the furniture at this point, and that gets moved on Wednesday.
There was one slight casualty of the move, a single champagne flute. The boyfriend was upset, but then I pointed out to him that as long as we live in Bakersfield there's little chance we'll have anything to celebrate so who would know?
And there was also one slight awkward moment with the neighbors.
We have quite a few framed prints and photos and we thought it best to move those over by hand lest the movers crack the glass on anything. I had made several trips and was removing the last print from my car. It's a large, lovely photo by renowned photographer Greg Gorman. Many years ago I had had the privilege and pleasure of doing a shoot with Greg. We had hit it off and he had given me the print as a gift.
It's a male nude.
A bulging, glistening, well endowed male nude.
Did I mention it's lovely? I never thought twice about hanging it when we lived in LA and I had it prominently on display in my home office. But when we moved to Bako it suddenly seemed a bit... much. So, into a closet it went, just like me. And it was now headed back into a closet in the new house.
I pulled it out of the car and was about to spirit it away into the house when suddenly behind me I heard...
"Helloooooo....."
I spun around and there was an elderly woman walking a snickerdoodle or whatever. I instinctively spun the print around so the back was facing her.
"I just love what you've done to the house. Why, we've lived her since '78..."
And off she went on an unsolicited history of the neighborhood. The only problem was that we now live on a corner, and while the back of the print was safely facing her, the naughty bits were all on display to the side street.
And I heard a car coming.
I did a quick pivette, dodging the oncoming car but now flashing our neighbors across the street. If only I could pin myself against the car, but the old lady had advanced a few steps up the drive and she cut me off.
Normally there isn't much traffic on either street, but of course, now, in this situation, it was Grand Central Station. I tried to politely cut the woman off and end the conversation, but she was lost in the past and unstoppable. So there I was, dancing around like one of those intersection sign twirlers. A sign twirler with a bladder problem - I had stupidly decided that as long as I was in motion, no one could focus on the print. I was rocking back and forth, shaking the print, spinning around as traffic warranted.
Finally in desperation I fixed my attention on the dog. I stared at it with pleading eyes. Please, please, please, just move along. And God bless dogs, even the small scary hybrid kind. He got it. He figured it out. And in an instant he was jerking Grandma, almost off her feet. She apologized for having to move along, and not a moment too soon. I finally dashed the print into the house, and the sad little closet where it will probably spend eternity.
So there you go.
This will more than likely be the last post until sometime after the move. And by "sometime", I may mean "never". Not that I'm not so inclined. It's just that we decided to save money we would "bundle" our services with a new provider. And so far it's shaping up as a monumental digital clusterfuck. The boyfriend spent hours yesterday on the phone to Bangalore or Hyderabad or RamaLamaDingDong, India and I have to say I'm not optimistic. Ok, well, I never am, but I'm even less so now.
So our old service will be cut tonight, and in theory, we'll have internet service on Thursday. At least that's what Panesh promised.
So until then, adios.
Hopefully greetings from Neuvo Casa de Bako on Thursday.
Ish.
Thursday-ish.
