One of those spring days last year, when Gary worked in my garden and I was assigned garbage detail, the hairdresser down the street stepped out for a smoke and a look at that view (and perhaps at us?). Looking for any excuse for a little break from chores, I fell into conversing with her. Then a sad, young woman passed by and the hairdresser had a brief, private exchange with her. Turning back to me, she said that the woman's mother had died last night and went on to tell me how. Afterward, Gary said, "Either my Italian is really bad or she just told you that her friend's mother fell out the window last night!" True. Hanging laundry on the line. Mmmm.

There's a lot of shy curiosity in the village about me. There's a lot of 'who gives a sh**?', too. I like both attitudes. This isn't a tourist town except for a few long distance bicyclists or the stray hiker. The very oldest citizens seem to have had memories of youth triggered by my reanimation of this once prestigious residence that has been shuttered and empty for thirty odd years. Those who overheard every word of my Q & A at the bank when I opened an account might be arguing about my marital status since they know they heard I am single and yet they've seen me working around the house with an Aussie, a Finn, an Italian, and a Brit pitching right in- all men. Which one's the husband? Mmmm. (They each live anywhere from ten minutes to an hour away.) Most of my women friends live much further away. One came all the way from New York to slave away during the initial cleanup. I plan to fill the house with friends often- for dinner, weekends, afternoons in the garden. Everyone will have views.

posted by Joanna @ 1/30/2004 02:58:00 AM