RSS FeedApr 19 2009
Boogie and the Jello Shots
One thing that recently occurred to me is that now that I’m settled into my marina, I’m going to need to find a way to write about my own life while respecting the privacy of my neighbors. I realize that I tend to put a lot of myself out there in the online world. However, other residents of my little neighborhood may have very different preferences where that is concerned. Especially considering that for many of them their floating homes are their vacation retreats and where they like to let their hair down.
So, if I’m sometimes a little vague with names and particular details, odds are it’s intentional and that I’m trying respect my neighbor’s right to not have their personal lives broadcast on the web. (Moreover, if any of my neighbors ever reads something here that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know and I’ll either modify it or take it down.)
That being said, I got to experience my first little neighborhood party last night. Apparently these are fairly common once the weather turns warm and I’ve been told that my ramp tends to be “the party ramp”. In fact, two of my neighbors were bemoaning the fact that they “live out in the boonies from where all the cool stuff is happening”. (They live another two ramps down the way.) I’m not used to thinking of ramps having personalities so this is a new concept for me to wrap my mind around.
Some of these parties, like the one last night, are planned and scheduled in advance. More often, though, they seem to spontaneously evolve. One neighbor stops to talk to another. The conversation continues for a little while and lawn chairs get pulled out onto the ramp. Those two seem to be having fun, so another neighbor drifts over to join them. Sometime soon after that a bottle of wine or some beer is produced and then, Voila!, you have a little party going.
In a lot of ways the phenomena reminds me a lot of the impromptu late-night conversations that would strike up in the dorm hallways in college. That was one of my favorite experiences back then, so it’s neat for me to discover a similar phenomena in the marina.
Last night’s ramp party centered around a raucous game of Pictionary. They went all-out including a gameshow host decked in a suit jacket, tie, Bermuda shorts, and bad faux hair. Jello shots had been flowing freely for awhile by the time I drifted down. There were no teams and the rules by which we were playing were pretty elastic. It was great fun.
What stole my heart, though, was Boogie, one of the marina’s well-known canine members. Boogie is an English bulldog and she’s carrying a few extra pounds on her already stout bulldog frame. Boogie doesn’t walk. She waddles. And she reminds me of a giant, bighearted caterpillar with all her fuzzy ripples of flesh.
Last night Boogie was extra-friendly. I suspect the 3 to 4 jello shots she’d partaken in prior to my arrival contributed to that. (Like my cat, Rumi, Boogie apparently likes the taste of alcohol.) Boogie is a very friendly drunk. She waddled her way over to my lawn chair, perhaps a little less gracefully than normal, plopped her round little body on top of my feet, and slobberly demanded love. So I had a very friendly foot-warmer for a good portion of the game.
If I’d thought I could have got away with it, I would have been tempted to spirit her home with me. She’s a complete sweetheart. But she would have made quite an armful and I suspect her mother would have objected strongly to her absence.
My neighbors who’ve been curious about who was fixing up my little place bombarded me with a series of questions including: Where are you from? Why is your boyfriend not also up here? What do you do for work? Why in the world would you move from the desert to here? etc.
It reminded me quite a lot of my mother’s little group of friends who hang out by the pool in the summer. You want to know anything about anyone, ask them. They have the best intel on everyone in the community. I suspect there will be several more evenings of information-gathering before they feel comfortable that they have enough material for their files, and that’s perfectly okay. One of the things I’ve really been looking forward in living here is being able build connections with my neighbors.
Anyway, last night was a great introduction to the marina. This summer should be a lot of fun. (And, Dan, it sounds like I just missed you and your wife last night.)
One thing that recently occurred to me is that now that I’m settled into my marina, I’m going to need to find a way to write about my own life while respecting the privacy of my neighbors. I realize that I tend to put a lot of myself out there in the online world. However, other residents of my little neighborhood may have very different preferences where that is concerned. Especially considering that for many of them their floating homes are their vacation retreats and where they like to let their hair down.
So, if I’m sometimes a little vague with names and particular details, odds are it’s intentional and that I’m trying respect my neighbor’s right to not have their personal lives broadcast on the web. (Moreover, if any of my neighbors ever reads something here that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know and I’ll either modify it or take it down.)
That being said, I got to experience my first little neighborhood party last night. Apparently these are fairly common once the weather turns warm and I’ve been told that my ramp tends to be “the party ramp”. In fact, two of my neighbors were bemoaning the fact that they “live out in the boonies from where all the cool stuff is happening”. (They live another two ramps down the way.) I’m not used to thinking of ramps having personalities so this is a new concept for me to wrap my mind around.
Some of these parties, like the one last night, are planned and scheduled in advance. More often, though, they seem to spontaneously evolve. One neighbor stops to talk to another. The conversation continues for a little while and lawn chairs get pulled out onto the ramp. Those two seem to be having fun, so another neighbor drifts over to join them. Sometime soon after that a bottle of wine or some beer is produced and then, Voila!, you have a little party going.
In a lot of ways the phenomena reminds me a lot of the impromptu late-night conversations that would strike up in the dorm hallways in college. That was one of my favorite experiences back then, so it’s neat for me to discover a similar phenomena in the marina.
Last night’s ramp party centered around a raucous game of Pictionary. They went all-out including a gameshow host decked in a suit jacket, tie, Bermuda shorts, and bad faux hair. Jello shots had been flowing freely for awhile by the time I drifted down. There were no teams and the rules by which we were playing were pretty elastic. It was great fun.
What stole my heart, though, was Boogie, one of the marina’s well-known canine members. Boogie is an English bulldog and she’s carrying a few extra pounds on her already stout bulldog frame. Boogie doesn’t walk. She waddles. And she reminds me of a giant, bighearted caterpillar with all her fuzzy ripples of flesh.
Last night Boogie was extra-friendly. I suspect the 3 to 4 jello shots she’d partaken in prior to my arrival contributed to that. (Like my cat, Rumi, Boogie apparently likes the taste of alcohol.) Boogie is a very friendly drunk. She waddled her way over to my lawn chair, perhaps a little less gracefully than normal, plopped her round little body on top of my feet, and slobberly demanded love. So I had a very friendly foot-warmer for a good portion of the game.
If I’d thought I could have got away with it, I would have been tempted to spirit her home with me. She’s a complete sweetheart. But she would have made quite an armful and I suspect her mother would have objected strongly to her absence.
My neighbors who’ve been curious about who was fixing up my little place bombarded me with a series of questions including: Where are you from? Why is your boyfriend not also up here? What do you do for work? Why in the world would you move from the desert to here? etc.
It reminded me quite a lot of my mother’s little group of friends who hang out by the pool in the summer. You want to know anything about anyone, ask them. They have the best intel on everyone in the community. I suspect there will be several more evenings of information-gathering before they feel comfortable that they have enough material for their files, and that’s perfectly okay. One of the things I’ve really been looking forward in living here is being able build connections with my neighbors.
Anyway, last night was a great introduction to the marina. This summer should be a lot of fun. (And, Dan, it sounds like I just missed you and your wife last night.)
