Six years ago, I went to Cancun with my BF Fanny, another friend and my oldest daughter. By day we'd lie by the pool, swim in the ocean and drink exotic cocktails carried to us by uniformed wait staff. It was wonderful. At night we'd try offbeat restaurants and then hit the nightclubs. I've created many vacation rocking chair memories with Fanny that I hope to tap into when I become ancient and decrepit, but this trip was the best.
For 27 years, Fanny has made me laugh longer and louder than any other human on earth. Like me, she is not exactly well endowed. Just to get the illusion of cleavage, we both need all the help we can get from duct tape, miracles and any other push-up type device on the market. Over the years, we've come to accept the way things are, but that doesn't stop a girl from wishing for just a wee bit more in the asset department. Enter the falsies-which have come a long way since the days of using Kleenex to pad things up. One night, Fanny asked to borrow the silicone wonders I had brought along to help me fill out my nearly
A B cups. After a few drinks with dinner, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe to listen to some live music and dance. Fanny, always the life of any party, got up on the stage to mime along with the song YMCA and toward the end of her stellar performance, just as she was making the Y with her arms above her head, something gave way and the falsies slipped out. The look on her face of complete mortification is etched in my mind forever. Six years later, I'm still wiping tears from my eyes whenever I think about that trip.
In a what you see, is not what you always get sort of way, the French colonial was an abysmal house. Where do I start with the shortcomings? Perhaps the neighbor's jacked up Ford F-350 was the first sign that all would not go well on this visit. Or could it have been the 4 foot tall heaps of scrap metal and lumber in his yard? From every window in the house, I could see the neighbor's perfect nests for rats. The downstairs of the home was cozy with beautiful French doors in the dining and living rooms. The kitchen was modernized, but a bit small; smaller than Charming's kitchen. The only bathroom had a claw foot tub with a makeshift shower. The kill the deal third bedroom was the problem as one had to walk through the master to get to it. Since it was currently set up as a nursery, I think that's exactly what it was intended to be a hundred years ago. There was a kitchenette on the second floor too that I'm still pondering. At first I thought it had been converted to a multifamily dwelling, but since it had only one bathroom, this made no sense. I don't know what it was for. Perhaps it had been a bathroom that was changed to a kitchen for a homeowner too lazy to go downstairs to make food. Not a single room had closet doors, they all had curtains in front of the closets. It was an odd little home.
Today's photos are of homes in Charming's neighborhood. Gee, what's missing? Junk heaps and jacked up pickup trucks. With every house I see, Charming looks better, warts and all.
