Southern California | The Stork and the Beanstalk

Willy’s mom turned 60 in May so we surprised her with a weekend family getaway to Encinitas, which is north of San Diego. We stayed at a house right on the beach, with long, steep wooden stairs that made even the bravest of us hold the handrails a little tighter. Jimmie, lacking brain cells, decided to make the 25 ft. jump off the cliff and onto the sand where he stood waiting for us with his back right leg held up like a flamingo. Fortunately he seemed to be okay, but it was scary to watch and seeing an animal in pain hurts my heart… and pocket, when you consider all the vet bills with had with Sarah.

We opted to eat in the first night, compliments of Willy who thankfully takes the lead in the kitchen otherwise we’d be eating out or eating boxed macaroni every night. The next morning we celebrated National Donut day and enjoyed donuts for breakfast, followed by a lunch out with just the girls in Ocean Beach. While in Ocean beach, we hit up several of the antique stores and I came home with a beautiful tapestry for the wall, a woven basket, and a box full of vintage candles that were just the size I needed for some old candle holders my mom gave me; complete with the .99 cent sticker from pic-n-save. Remember pic-n-save? We had dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant that accommodated our large group perfectly and got us home just in time to catch the sunset.

The boys had a great time hanging with their cousin, Zoe, who is just about old enough to be entertained by their shenanigans (she’s a year younger than Van). The way she watched them zip down the side yard on the toddler ride-on toy that was meant to be used for anything but, laughing at whatever they laughed at, and gracefully agreeing to be my photo subject when my crazy kids were, well, crazy.

I asked my mother-in-law to share some words on turning 60 because I think with every new decade comes new perspectives and truths you never anticipated knowing. Here’s what she had to say:

“Suddenly Sixty.” That title penned by the multi-talented Judith Viorst pretty much characterizes my arrival at this milepost. It might be trite, but it’s true: I’m really not certain how I got here! And, no, for me, 60 is NOT the new 40. Oddly enough, reaching other decades didn’t impact me the way 60 does. Not wanting to be maudlin, I’ve got to face the fact that on any graphic depicting life expectancy, it’s downhill from here. Very humbling! That said, age does bring a wisdom that’s comforting, a family that’s fulfilling (grandkids ARE the best) and friends who are true. For those blessings, I am more grateful than I can express. Looking back, I’m not sure I would really change much. Maybe worry less. It’s wasted energy. Maybe write more. I love words. And being married to my best friend for 39 of those 60 years is pretty darn cool. Where did those years go? Wish I had an answer, but the older I get the more I realize how little I know. In the end, though, if I died tomorrow I would die a happy woman knowing I did my best to leave the world a better place, mainly because of the two wonderful men who are my sons.

Willy and I have never prided ourselves on our old neighborhood. We knew when we moved that it was what we could afford and not where we’d always be. Over the years, we invested time (and money) to turn our old house into a home and, as a result, it wasn’t easy to leave.

But there are a few things that happened along the way that I thought would be fun to share.

It started a few months before we decided to put our house on the market when a home a couple houses down from us went up for sale. Next thing you knew there was a pickup truck parked in the driveway filled to the brim with shit. We figured someone had moved in and we were, uh, right. As in, a squatter moved in. It was some homeless lady and her dog. Someone called the cops and she left and the house sold.

Then the house across the street went up for sale and that homeless lady, her dog, and her truck filled to the brim with shit returned. The cops were called again and, once again, she was asked to leave.

Then there was the time I was playing with Hooper in the front yard when a cop car went zooming down the street. And I mean zooming. I walked to the street to see if I could see what direction he went and noticed that there was another cop car parked at our neighbors house getting some sort of report from the people that live two doors down. It didn’t look like anything serious, so I went on playing with Hooper. That’s when a helicopter appeared overhead and started circling right above our house. Then cop cars flooded the streets. I mean flooded. I’m talkin’ there were motorcycle cops driving down the sidewalk. Come to find out the guy two doors down had been beating his pregnant wife and fled the scene when the cops came to get the report. We heard from other neighbors that they found him in the alleyway and he was yelling at the cops to just go ahead and shoot him.

The guys at the end of the block drove a donk. If you don’t know what a donk is, you’ve never lived in the ‘hood.

Back to the house that was for sale. It eventually got taken over by other, more sophisticated, squatters. These squatters drove fancy cars and were arrested the other day when it was discovered they had turned the house into a drug house.

Another neighbor admitted he owns an AK47 and offered to sell us one. We considered. I joke (about considering, not the fact that he has a felony-possession firearm. In fact, I’m glad he has it. He was on our team and would have protected us if shit ever went down).

The same neighbor (the one with the AK47) witnessed a gun deal going down in the wee hours of the night. He states he came across two cars, each filled with 4 guys, making a deal. Instead of calling the police, he states he went inside, grabbed his strobe light, and sat outside with his rifle. I suppose it was good to know he wouldn’t bring out his AK47 for just any occasion.

And yet, none of this really weighed on our decision to move. We enjoyed our home and the characters in our neighborhood. But here now, in our new digs, we couldn’t be happier. We’re really enjoying the change of scenery.

What’s your neighborhood like?

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November 2024

The Stork and the Beanstalk

A Mother's Journal

November 2024

The Stork and the Beanstalk

A Mother's Journal

Tag: Southern California

60 Years

I asked my mother-in-law to share some words on turning 60 because I think with every new decade comes new perspectives and truths you never anticipated knowing. Here’s what she had to say:

Tales from the 'hood

Willy and I have never prided ourselves on our old neighborhood. We knew when we moved that it was what we could afford and not where we’d always be. Over the years, we invested time (and money) to turn our old house into a home and, as a result, it wasn’t easy to leave.

But there are a few things that happened along the way that I thought would be fun to share.

Then the house across the street went up for sale and that homeless lady, her dog, and her truck filled to the brim with shit returned. The cops were called again and, once again, she was asked to leave.

The guys at the end of the block drove a donk. If you don’t know what a donk is, you’ve never lived in the ‘hood.

Back to the house that was for sale. It eventually got taken over by other, more sophisticated, squatters. These squatters drove fancy cars and were arrested the other day when it was discovered they had turned the house into a drug house.

Another neighbor admitted he owns an AK47 and offered to sell us one. We considered. I joke (about considering, not the fact that he has a felony-possession firearm. In fact, I’m glad he has it. He was on our team and would have protected us if shit ever went down).

And yet, none of this really weighed on our decision to move. We enjoyed our home and the characters in our neighborhood. But here now, in our new digs, we couldn’t be happier. We’re really enjoying the change of scenery.

What’s your neighborhood like?