The Basement Rental

I've owned my house for 12 years. In fact, it might be 13 years this August (I'm not really good with dates and time and when things happened). I might KNOW they happened. I just can't always put my finger on the moment it happened.

From what I can recall, I've rented out my basement 6 summers. Traded for two. A total of 8. Which makes sense - I didn't start at the beginning.

Not sure where I actually got the idea. Maybe from a friend of mine whom rented her basement out - her basement though was more like an apartment. Had it's own kitchen. It's own entrance.

My basement had it's own entrance at one point, but that has been changed. Although, I don't think any of the renters ever used that entrance.

As I mentioned last year, I had trouble finding a renter. It seems everyone is renting a room now. More people rent their rooms and basement. NOW, that everyone is doing it, I get a little more skeptical.

Fingers crossed, I've only had good experiences. It was looking for a summer rental, that changed my life into my love for Hawaii.

This summer, my renter from last summer, he referred a friend. A friend whom got the same internship he had last summer. Last years renter sent me an e-mail wanting to know how things were going and telling me the story.

His friend had asked about a place to rent. He replied, "Let me reach out to family I stayed with last summer, they were great. It was a great situation.".

I've never had a summer referral. I didn't even look this time.

The friend of a friend is coming for the summer.

Things are changing this next year. He might be the last summer rental.....

At least in this house.

It works out ok

I'm not sure where to start.

Yesterday, I went with some friends in the hood to pick up their CCI puppy. We met another CCI family - picking up their CCI puppy.

It gets long in life. It gets complicated. It's very simple. Teenagers can be annoying. Parents are annoying too.

But friends, friends of the real kind, will always be great.

I try not to blog about my frustrations with them. I wouldn't want them to blog about my frustrations with me.

At times, we all have frustrations about each other.

But this time - a friend and her family whom live much like me - I told them to take a look at the House Swap site.They did. They are gone for the month of July. We are all figuring this out together.

Today, I get a text: "Hey, can you swap for a weekend in San Fran, Memorial Day."

Sure, I say. I'm there.

Cool. Let me connect you.

Years ago, I was a risk taker. I held my breath and swapped it for a summer in Hawaii.

A weekend in San Francisco? Anyone want to join me????

We will be just fine.

My Little Free Library

Books.

Hard bound. Soft bound. Tattered at the edges. Stains on the pages. Holding a page in your hand.

I love BOOKS.

Much like I loved the newspaper.

I'm a tactile person. I need to touch. Feel. Experience.

A couple of months ago I was reading a paperback book. You know, the old fashioned kind. One that was printed.

I had picked it up at a "My Little Free Library"

This author I had read before. My sister had read this book. I was about half-way through the book. Then I left the book on the plane.

Instead of buying another copy, I downloaded it. Then finished the book.

Part of me still doesn't feel like I "read the book" - even though I know the ending.

I have a "Little Free Library" in my yard.

They have been popping up in my neighborhood for years. I have wanted one for years.

I'm one of those people - if I want something, I usually go get it. But for some reason I could not justify this expense. I'm not sure what it was that held me back.

My dad and step-mother normally send me money for Christmas. This year, I asked them to please order me a Little Free Library.  It arrived late. It had to be painted. It needed not only some parts, but installation as well.

The only thing I knew I could cover was the painting.

Long story short. I painted it. I bought the extra parts. I paid a local handy man to install.

I LOVE books.

I LOVE everything about books.

Now I wonder what the stories the books have heard to make it into my yard. I have two stories. The one from the book. The one from the person whom put the book in the library.

The purpose of the library in my yard: take a book, leave a book.

There have been children's books. Teen lit (and the day I found a Beverly Cleary book I was ecstatic. The day I discovered it was gone, was a bit sad).

I put "Fifty Shades of Grey" in the Library. (I had the book for years, someone told me it was very poorly written, so I never read it - it sat on my nightstand for years, the library was the perfect place to pass it on".  It took over two weeks for someone to take it.

There is an older couple whom stops by every Wednesday. He parks the car in front of my house. He comes over and opens her door. He walks her to my library on the side yard.

I can't actually see the library from my house - unless I go sneaking around.

Sometimes,  I think I need to get a life.

Sometimes,  I think I need to go out and talk to the couple - the little couple whom visits my library.

You look like I need a drink

There are moments, when you can look across a room. You look and know that everything changes from that moment on.

No. There are no flashes of lightning. The band does not stop playing. You just know.

You look up. You pay attention to your surroundings. You know something is all RIGHT. And at the same moment something is so not all the way it used to look.

You look up. You think, "this isn't how things used to look." "So this is how is it supposed to look".

If alcohol is involved or not.

This is a defining moment in life.

Everything changes.

Once, in Vail, a million years ago. I was talking with a girlfriend. We had been skiing all day.

I keep trying to make this story fluffy. I keep trying to make things the way they aren't.

I'm going back to making things the way they really are.

Once upon a time, I was at the Cherry Cricket.

This young guy said to me, 

"Can you buy me a drink?"