I jog around my neighborhood in uncharted paths, 'til I just can't jog no mo'. I hop around the cracks and puddles in the pavement, and tried to avoid the probing eyes of gardeners as best as I can. Every house I pass is a new fantasy, and every song on my iPod a new soundtrack to the gloriously sunny scenery.If I can sneak it in -- when I'm sure that nobody is watching -- I find a patch of grass and I do a quick cartwheel. I think about what my dad told me when I was 13. "You better do this 5 times a day, every day, otherwise you will never be able to again." Well, I didn't do it 5 times a day every day, but Dad, I can still do them. He doesn't know that I have always listened to him, even just a little. I also sneak in pirouettes, whenever I can.
On my way back upstairs today, I stopped for a second and considered the pool in our courtyard which I have long thought of as unswimmable. A neighbor I had seen, here and there, popped out. "Ts'alright, you know," he said with an obviously Australian twang. He was wearing a towel around his waist and had just toweled off from a dip.
"I've never thought of this as anything but not swimmable," I confessed.
"But because nobody swims in it, ts'actually quite clean, and it just needs painting." Good logic there.
Eventually we were chatting amiably about the usual. How long he lived there (2 months), the business he runs out of his house (odds and ends for chicks), his girlfriend (the one), his divorce (so he knows the difference), his time spent in Australia and New Zealand (most of his life). "How odd," I thought aloud, "I have a friend who's pretty into Australia and New Zealand." Daniel insisted that I bring Justin over for beer. He then told me that if I were ever in need of herbs, I should come down and help myself. And that if I wanted to eat lamb, he could make a killer marinade. Then I took a quick look at a bookcase inside his office which displayed all the girly products that his business sells.
Eventually, Ann from upstairs stopped by with her two dogs, and so did Gilbert (zheel-BEHR). I have lived here almost one year and had only carried real conversations with Josh, the guy across the way who smokes so much he looks like the undead. But today, everybody was in high spirits and Manning Place started to look more like Melrose Place.
Only, I don't think anybody is plotting murder just yet. I'll give it a few weeks.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 4:05 PM
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