So I’ve got a whole, entirely fresh new outlook going on right now…
sitting near the ravine that backs up to my front door; two deer to my right are eyeing me, unmoved, continue to munch on my snapdragons.
It’s nearly 80 degrees on the patio though the clock informs me it’s 4:20 pm and there should be coastal fog. There are zero messages on my answering machine; none from space 11 telling me of a “brown smoothie” flood oozing all over his weed-lawn and out into the common area… Nothing from triple-wide complaining of a loose dog shitting on her lawn, which is real not Astro Turf.
One would deduct from this that life is good for a trailer girl like me.
Just how good is being driven home right now by the ad in the Trader Joe’s Frequent Flyer, actually left in my mailbox, which I am now browsing through from my sun-drenched patio, G & T with extra lime in hand…. It states: Tuna Salad Wrap…On-The-Go Goodness.
I, in my state of Nirvana, read it as: Tuna Salad Wrap…On-The-Go Goddess.
A huge “breathe in, breathe out” comes over me as realization hits:
I am just that: a Goddess on the go! And not only am I a Goddess on the go, but I am a pink-winged priestess, set loose on the streets of Monterey, California and my only point of comfortable reference is a trailer park.
Yes, my friends, life is good or as the bumper sticker states: Wag More…
and my tail’s ‘a waggin!
It was definitely bittersweet though to leave it all behind, and isn’t that how the song always goes?
The bitter occurred on the final, parting day at the park. It truly sucks to have to even document this because the glorious and meritorious highlights of the past 6 years have been, and will continue to be, worthy of both my time and yours, so it does cause me discomfort to place this one in the archives.
The worthiness is questionable, I suppose…
Space 32 has despised me since the moment I put on the “jefe sombrero” and I think quite honestly it was a cultural thing because a female boss,
a female enforcer of the Western Association of Manufactured Homes rules and regulations, a female anything except a female underwear folder or a female maker of the meal, just doesn’t work for Gustavo.
Gustavo’s had it out for me every single ‘effin day of the 2,190 days of my rule and he waited until the final night before my bon voyage to make his move.
At some point in the night, he tip-toed past east row of modestly decorated units, and after a sneak peek into my windows, stole one propane tank, one “friendly-animal-safe trap” and a box of miscellaneous tchotchkes from my carport. (Not to be confused with a chachka, which is an attractive, unconventional woman like myself.)
How do I know this you ask?
Well, finally my (former) snoop-dog next-door neighbor comes in handy because she actually saw Gustavo prowling around and nab my goods!
When I phoned Senor Robber, he of course didn’t pick up which is option one for him. Option two is “No hablo ingles.”
Luckily, I phoned his BFF at space 26, who in fact did pick up and not only got my message loud and clear, but passed it on to Gustavo:
“Put it back and I won’t call the policia.”
He did. I didn’t.
The sweet also transpired in my last 48 hours in the hood. My little old lady whose only cross to bear is that she carries tons of guilt on her shoulders and doesn’t realize she can simply set it down.
Mary at unit 19, has mentioned to me on numerous occasions over the years that she loves to go to Burger King with her lady friends every Sunday after church before they play Skip Bo at 2:00 p.m. at the Senior Center, but sometimes she simply orders water because “it costs a dollar for a cup of coffee.” Mary who lost her husband and her dog Ginger in the same month two years ago. Mary who has several kids who rarely visit her. Mary whose walker looks like it was built during Eisenhower’s Presidency. Mary who loves my lentils with smoked turkey and carrots…
So I decided Mary deserved a cup of delicious Burger King coffee on Sunday after church. Hell, Mary deserves a milkshake every once in awhile.
So I left an envelope on her porch under her carport on my way out of town: a simple friendship card with my cell phone number in case she needed anything, and a $50 buck gift card for Burger King. I think that will buy her coffee for a while!
Have it your way, Mary.
The transformation from Trailer Park Girl to Tortilla Flat Girl, if indeed it’s possible, will be a long and winding road.
But all I can tell you, my friends, is a girl has to try.