Saturday, October 4, 2008

the penthouse at trout towers

Greetings from the latest space that we are calling home. We are fortunate enough to have been invited to live with the Trouts in their recently vacated second floor apartment. Recently vacated by them as they migrated to one floor down to enjoy single level living - no stairs required. A feature much touted by home sellers across this spit of sand we choose to live on. Part of the Trouts downward migration is the lure of recreating a space to live in. And they are doing it with enthusiasm. The results are nothing short of shocking; the entire energy flow of this house has changed completely and the results are simply astounding.

Living here is all a bit surreal I must say. I've been enjoying many a sojourn to the Towers for the past eight years (2 before my now husband came into the picture) and now pulling into the driveway, climbing the stairs to the Penthouse and opening the door to see our cats trotting up to see us is a little freaky. But right at the same time. Some of their furniture is still upstairs adding to the delusion that we've walked into the wrong house, and for this we are also grateful otherwise we would have nothing to sit on as our furniture is safely stored in the garage in CO. We've been enjoying th Trout's tv, couch, etc., that it feels as if we belong here. And I think we do.

It's pretty inspiring how this communal living works; we are a little interactive and interdependent community that shares what there is to offer. Food and laughter being the most frequent offerings. We are all on the same clock - at 6:30 a.m.-ish there is a thundering of small feet down the hall towards the kitchen. Sometimes it's the small human variety downstairs or the small feline variety upstairs. Amazing how small feet can imitate charging elephants so convincingly. There are chickens in the yard - less food is wasted as we can feed them left over rice, veggie scraps and more and they give us yummy eggs. There is a rhythm here that is soothing and energizing at the same time. We have the luxury of being able to recharge our personal batteries in a warm, loving, and safe home. This sanctuary is as close to our Colorado haven as we could possibly wish for. Oh, have we mentioned that the Trouts now have live-in babysitters as an added bonus?

"Stinky, put your pants on!" drifts up from the front yard. "Mommy, why?" Oh, maybe because there are soon to be a flock of pink clad six year old girls and their moms showing up any minute; now as I write this, there is a bevy of princesses sharing a birthday celebration with Pinky herself outside on the freshly manicured front lawn. There are pink ribbons and pink cupcakes and pink paper lantern-ish thingies in the trees. Stinky and two dads are the only men here - they are all sporting a deer-in-the-headlights glazed expression as the twittering butterflies make their shrinkie-dink party crafts. I'm hiding from the soccer moms although the siren's song of real frosting is a becoming irresistible (no box cakes or canned frosting here on either floor) and perhaps I'll be brave enough to meet new people and make conversation to obtain this tempting objective. Have I mentioned that I am not a fan of groups of people I don't know? What a pansy. Maybe I'll just sneak down and hide behind the dads. Oops, too late - the dads have vanished into man-town in the basement. Not even I am brave enough to risk that. Hmmmmmmm. Small talk for cupcakes - I hate these kinds of decisions.

Welcome to the next chapter in our travelogue.


Susan said...

Siren's song = "hey, come get yer cupcake!"

Oh curses, Stinky's awake. Over and out.

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