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Freddy And The Pool Monster
The landscaping crew packs up and leaves for the weekend but this time they left Freddy from Honduras behind to water the plants, and spread some mulch.
We have about equal understanding of each other's native language and converse with long pauses while looking either to the sky or to the dirt for answers to our transliterate deficiencies.
We get along pretty well but I thought I might have to bury his ass under the hydrangea bed when he ask me--are you a woman? Pendejo better not be hitting on me. I had just the other night watched TransAmerica so I was sensitive to the question and just kept repeating incredulously his question, "Am I a woman? Am I a woman? Am I a woman?" He looked to the dirt. I tried to help him. Did he mean do I have a wife? Si, una espousa? No. Ninos? No. He has a wife in Honduras and a baby. Had he considered bringing her up? No. Too expensive. Five thousand dollars. So I wanted to know how, what, who. I just kept saying "quien" and then "bring," with hand motions that were Freddy an American football fan, would tell him that he was probably being penalized 15 yards.
But Freddy was getting the hang of my not so unique communication skills and finally gave me the answer I was more or less fishing for. He said--Coyote.
He asked me about Spanish TV and I said no TV out here yet, but maybe soon. Later I took down to him one of my hard drives and the 17 inch flat panel and rustled up a handful of DVDs. I could not find too many that actually offered Spanish as the dubbed language. If extra languages were offered at all, French seemed to be the most common. But Casino with Robert DeNiro and Sharon Stone had dubbed Spanish so I set it up for him and after driving to the Quikie Mart to get him two gallons of drinking water and a twelve pack of Coca-Cola, wished him good night. I myself this night watched Walk the Line, which was a lot better than I thought it was going to be, and also has dubbed Spanish, so next week the crew can enjoy that if they want.
This morning he is out watering again and I said, te gusta la pelicula? and he apparently liked it very much, making knife marks across his throat to show his appreciation of Robert DeNiro and also that the woman...the woman...I said, Sharon Stone, he said, yes, very beautiful. I agreed with him. I mean I can see how some men would be attracted to that raw and rude over the top come hither sexuality she seems to exude with little or no effort. I mean, you know, intellectually, I can understand that.
The pool monster came up sick this morning so I disemboweled it and although not sure of what I actually did, learned a few things about the inner workings of the Polaris pool sweeping device and got it working again.
While Freddy was watering this morning I put my Rio player and speakers out on the porch and played for him the Buena Vista Social Club soundtrack. Not wanting him to get too comfortable with only hearing his native language (or the Cuban version thereof) I am now playing for him a rather extended playlist of Jimi Hendrix.
The Curse Of The Hydrangea
It's finally raining here in Virginia, so I'm stuck inside, caretaker without a cause, too wet to paint.
I have made stellar progress with the disconnecting of the suck ass Direcway satellite Internet service and also site assessment and near hookup of Adelphia Cable. With Direcway I just lied to them and said I was leaving the country for a year. I was afraid of what I would say if asked for my real reasons for disconnecting. Suffice to say it was a frustrating relationship with the Hughes Corp. I have just located the two cable plug-ins in the bighouse so really I am still working my ass off.
I am supervising in hands off fashion the installing of the new trampoline surface, which I can see happening out the window if I crane my neck like Linda Blair.
Filled up those sample bottles this morning with tap water so the town can test them for lead, which they do every year at the same six properties in the area. I'm exhausted just thinking about my work load.
There is a Latino landscaping crew of five men out here living in my cottage while they complete a rather ambitious project, over a 3 week period. I would help them move around those 200 pound slabs of flagstone but it intimidates some people to see someone as skinny as me sling gargantuan stones around like they were pieces of styro-foam.
I am stuck up here in the bighouse, killing mice by the bucket load, and at night sipping a wide variety of hard liquor while watching movies. I have Netflix resumed but the first batch was mostly unremarkable while the little notebook full of DVDs from Mr. BC have all been pretty good watching, including Syrianna, Jarhead, Junebug, and TransAmerica. .
Yesterday I got a sandwich and a bottle of water at the quaint, sparsely stocked gourmet grocery in town and paid almost nine dollars for the privilege. Then drove to Culpeper for more paint, sanding discs from the Lowe's, and some frozen food from the Walmart. At Walmart I got two regular deluxe pizzas from my friends at Red Baron, a french bread pizza, two chicken pot pies, a hearty and delicious meatloaf dinner with mashed potatoes and green beans, and a pint of juicy and sweet cubed pineapple, all for 18 dollars.
The pool area is really going to be elegant thanks to these kickass landscapers. The good news is those hateful hydrangeas by the far end of the pool got dug up, the bad news is they replanted them closer to the house, the worst news is 10 or 12 new hydrangeas have been planted, near the pool and elsewhere. I am cursed by hydrangeas.
It was hotter than crap out here yesterday but today, not really. At the gas station down the hill a tractor driver was talking about the rain last night. A waitress at the diner talked about the lightning.