Snapshots from Eldredge

The life and writings of TJ Alexian

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The Journey Takes Shape.

“Happiness consists of living each day as if it were the first day of your honeymoon and the last day of your vacation.” – Leo Tolstoy

For the first time since last July, I have a whole week off from work, and even though both Corb and I are now fully vaccinated, we have elected to stay inside Green Victoria and begin work on transforming Ashes’ old bedroom into Ted’s new office. We are now on our fourth day of work.

Clarification: set designer/chandelier restorer/master builder Corb is really the muscles and brains behind the operation, so I am getting a vacation of sorts. I sit in the bedroom and help when needed and every so often get to sneak off and work on something like, say, this entry. And, that’s nice.

So far, we have created a pocket door for the entrance, which frees up a lot of space, and just finished the drywall. We are now in the midst of filling in the holes created as a result of tearing down old drywall, reframing and rewiring some crummy previous construction and then, we may take a break and get away from our house for a few days, and actually travel for a bit.

As I begin to think of the next chapter of my life, these are the things that fill my head: travel, reconstruction, good food, writing and art, and spending time with people I truly love. Oddly, the thought of jumping from one year of isolation into directing a theater production holds little appeal. Will that feeling last? 

The thought of this office holds the most appeal. I have a vision of a drafting table occupying center stage, allowing me to place pen to paper, to create, to be free, to set sail for wherever my imagination wants to go. The room will have a Caribbean feel, reminding me of all the trips we’ve taken these past five years. This room represents my next destination, the anchor lifted, with clear blue skies.

Part of worries: at the age of 55, how creative can I really get? Is there really another chapter in the books? I’ve had so many great chapters in my life. 

Don’t worry about worries. Deep breath. Visualize. Create, travel, eat well, love well. That sounds like a good set of prioritizes for this next chapter. That journey begins HERE. 

–April 22, 2021

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A Damsel in Distress

“The best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your arm.” Swedish proverb

Today was such a beautiful one in the city of Eldredge that Corb and I decided to set aside working on the office project and instead focus some much-needed attention on doing yard work around Green Victoria. Between the work on the Chandelier Shack and the New Office, our exterior hasn’t gotten the love it deserves this year.

I was assigned to wind machine duty for the first half of the day. It’s actually a leaf blower, but I think calling it a wind machine makes it sound more interesting, don’t you? And as I was in the midst of pummeling the leaves and needles underneath one of our dogwood trees into submission, I happened to look up at the old decaying house next door and stopped, dead in my tracks.

“Hey, Corb. Look at that.”

There, hanging out from one of the windows. A doll that had clearly seen better days, sitting on the window’s ledge, her legs delicately swinging to the left in a ladylike way. She was wearing a pink dress. Her hair was swept up to highlight the delicate features of her face, especially the smears of dirt around her forehead and cheeks. Just relaxing, clearly, and taking in the view from the second floor.  

The house she was perched in has been abandoned for about two years, although it had fallen into decay many years before that. The roof is caved in and the wood is rotted, but the previous owner had allowed his son, something of a recluse, to live there for years. About a year ago, son was kicked out and two inept developers (father and son) bought the property. Their goal has never been to restore the property to its former glory, although at one point it was probably quite beautiful. The place has been around since the mid-1800s, and may have once served as an inn. Instead, they want to tear it down and build two single family dwellings on the property in its place. The march of progress, right? 

Anyway, since the developers haven’t yet gotten around to leveling the place, they apparently lent out the joint to the local fire fighters. We found that out second-hand, about a week ago, when we noticed a lot of fire trucks hanging around, taking up space in our front lawn. Since the developers hate us (maybe because we call them inept), we called up the fire department to find out what’s what. Turns out the old place is being used to conduct training exercises

One of the firemen must have placed the doll on the windowsill, as a joke. 

But still, the doll must have been there, all these years. It looks pretty old. I doubt the firemen brought it for their exercises. Or maybe they did, to practice rescuing damsels in distress? Nah. It must have been hiding in a corner and gathering dust, all this time.  

I have decided to call her Virginia Creeper. Virginia because she has kind of a Southern charm. Creeper because she’s kind of…well, aren’t all old dolls kind of creepy?

Frankly, I think it’s kind of nice that Virginia is getting some final moments in the sun. She must have been laying around in that old house for quite awhile, forgotten and abandoned. I’m sure whoever owned her and loved her originally reached adulthood many decades ago. 

But here she is now, boys. Virginia Creeper lives again. Camped out in this windowless window, surveying the territory for all to see. Reliving those glory days.

I hope the firefighters keep her perched up there. I very much like the idea of basking in the glow of her Southern comfort for a while longer. Looking down upon us, feeling the excitement of the firetrucks and the fire drills, and the hustle and bustle of the house construction going on around her. 

I don’t think Virginia needs to know her house is going to come tumbling down. Let her enjoy the view she’s been blessed with, instead. Let her enjoy the dizzying heights, and who knows, maybe some kind firefighter will sweep her off her feet and take her away with him when all these training exercises are all over. There. There’s the happy ending I want for Virginia Creeper. That. 

In the meantime, Virginia, I look forward to having you keep a close eye on us in the days ahead. You’ve got a fan in me, doll.   

–May 9, 2021

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Three dinners, one martini

“The more you celebrate your life, the more there is to celebrate.” Oprah Winfrey

This week-end? One month into the vaccinated life? Almost felt normal.

Friday night was our first time out to our favorite restaurant in Eldredge, seated in their open area. First time in over a year. We settled in the back corner, reconnected with all of our favorite waitresses, and it felt like a slice of heaven. I ordered my favorite martini, the grape ape, which tastes just like grape Kool-aid, and a spicy maki tuna. 

“Every Friday night at seven this summer,” I declared to Corb. “We are holding court right here. Maybe we will invite other people. It doesn’t matter.”

Then we went home so that I could torture him with a bad Hollywood movie musical, a tradition we started two months into the pandemic. Every Friday night at ten o’clock, I announce the movie on Facebook and Corb and I provide color commentary until Corb passes out. This week was “The Beautiful Blonde from Bashville Bend” starring Better Grable. I loved it. Corb hated it, although less than last week’s entry, Calamity Jane.

Saturday night we ended up driving to the Cape Cod canal for a four mile walk, then we drove to Corb’s favorite restaurant (they serve fabulous turkey croquettes), only to find it wasn’t open. Disappointed beyond words, Corb and I drove into Falmouth, unable to agree on a place to eat. WE ARE TERRIBLE WHEN IT COMES TO AGREEING ON RESTAURANTS! We drive by a place, kind of agree but by then it’s too late, never turn back, cannot agree for five more restaurants, then drive past another…rinse, lather, repeat. Finally we agreed on a wonderful little Greek restaurant named Estia on Main Street. The spanokopita was terrific and there were big slices of feta cheese. A two man Greek band played near us. I drank a fig martini. It reminded Corb of his mini-trip to Greece while he was working in Bulgaria.

Sunday night, after a day spent working outside doing yard work, no martinis, no fancy meal, but a nice dinner out at Texas Roadhouse with Corb’s mother, who is going through a lot with Jim, who has been hospitalized for a month and I frankly am worried about. The best they can tell, he came down with full body shingles which has done a number to his system. Ironically, he had turned down the shingles  vaccine two months beforehand, saying he never gets a flu shot, why should he get that? It’s really sad. Jim has such a wonderful, one of a kind spirit. He is what I aspire to be at 85. 

Oh! And free irises and lilies from the garden of my ear friend Heather, and the best part of all? We’re both vaccinated, so I could give her a big huge hug. 

All in all? These are days. I could go for an entire summer of this. It’s nice to take baby steps towards normality again.   

–May 17, 2021