Recently, Facebook reminded me of a post I made in 2014. I copied that post and saved the accompanying photo I captured out of the window of my car, and planned on publishing what I wrote and the photograph as a sort of stroll down memory lane. But I realized I didn’t have much of a memory lane to scroll down, so that led me to the Internet. With what I remembered of the house, I did a search and found a Facebook account (credit to Facebook account Abandoned Steve, and photos will be credited to their owners) and a YouTube channel featuring abandoned mansions and properties in Pennsylvania (again, all credit to Abandoned Steve). I found the house which I had always called “My House,” because as a small child, barely able to see above the door and out of the window, and down the long driveway to the terra-cotta roof tiles, I always wanted to live there. And by live there, I mean I wanted to purchase the house when I was a grown-up. My mom told me stories of “The Doctor’s Mansion,” and I had all but forgotten most of the details, which weren’t very many to begin with. I found out today it was called Bella Vista by the surgeon who owned it and helped build it. Yes, a surgeon at a local hospital was also the general contractor on the project. Can you imagine how that went? More on him later. He was quite something, in a good way.
I am still going to post my original Facebook memory about this house, but I am going to post the beginnings of the house before I post the end. I sadly still don’t have too much information, but I am still doing research and if I come up empty-handed, I’ll employ my writer’s mind to add details. Do stay tuned for this post, but please be patient as I still have to do research on the house, and my new job training continues to be my number one priority. And also my number one vehicle to exhaustion.
When that Facebook memory popped up, a small spark that had temporarily been snuffed out by new work obligations, training and an exhausted mind and body, to be quite frank, was lit again. My muse this time is a small child’s long-ago memory that I can bring back to life. I am old enough, my creative mind now developed enough to put the awe I felt into words. I can now hear the parties held at the mansion: live music, clinking glasses and uproarious laughter amid extended family and friends on sixteen acres of a beautiful view.
I found myself at the dollar store this week, and it’s a really nice one. By that, I mean they have notebooks. I go through notebooks like people go through tissues. That’s just how it works when I work. Now is the time to get the notebooks because now it is back to school season. They also have 2025 calendars out, and although all of these things used to be one dollar, now they range from $1.25 to $1.50. One cool thing I know about the dollar store is there’s a little section of hardback and paperback books. I don’t know where these books come from, but they’re not books I’ve ever heard of. Yet, sometimes, you can find a real gem. For $1.50, it’s worth the splurge. If you’ve been to the book section of the dollar store, you know you have to dig through all of the titles and there are numerous duplicates, so digging is mandatory. I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I always do. If the cover is iffy, I read the title next. If I still can’t get a grasp, I open it up and read the first couple pages. That’s how I decide if I want to purchase a book or not, or even if I want to borrow one from the library. So here I am in the little bookshelf of the dollar store sifting through all of the books when I find one that raises my eyebrow. The cover is absolutely hilarious – Telenovela style. The title is even better – The Good Girl’s Guide to Rakes.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t even crack it open to see what it was about. It’s evident to me that it’s a users’ guide aimed at women who may not be familiar with garden shed tools. Sometimes people don’t know the difference between a rake and a hoe and it’s very important to be able to discern the difference. I decided this useful manual was necessary for purchase and plopped it into my cart.
See what I mean? How could I leave this – the only copy left – to sit on the shelf?
The second book didn’t have an impressive artistic cover, but it was hard back, which I always find curious. I always take off the jacket and look at the naked book. It’s red. I put on the jacket and read the synopsis. I read a few pages and decided it wasn’t really speaking to me, but for $1.50, what did I have to lose?
The second book. The most exciting thing about it is the book itself is red. I’ll give it a chance.
As I was rummaging through the rest of the books, I saw it. “Ooh la la!” I said in the aisle, but no one was around to care.
There it was, standing tall amongst the shorter books. The title got me: All Signs Point to Paris. Its dark navy paperback cover with slightly shiny copper type face and its deckled edge pages were not the usual find at the dollar store. I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath. Reading the synopsis wasn’t necessary, although I did it. Reading the first few pages wasn’t necessary, although I did it. It’s a memoir, somehow astrology is involved, destiny, Paris and some dude. Well, that’s my kind of book. Plopped it right into the cart and continued on my way.
The design of this book is very well done. Kudos to the designer. The original price was $19.99, and its publishing house is well known.
I returned home and sorted through all of my dollar store finds. That’s always the most fun part – picking each item out of the bag and saying to yourself, “I am so pleased I found a bundle of two rolls of Scotch tape for $1.50. Let them eat cake, I have name brand Scotch tape.”
I put the books aside for later because I wanted to pay extreme attention to every detail. I wanted to sniff them, look at their pages, read the publication details and all that fun stuff that book nerds do.
When I finally sat down with the three books, I saved the best for last. I already know the difference between rakes and hoes, and I’m not too keen on the second book, but I will give it a chance. There is a red book underneath that jacket, so maybe it’s more exciting than I think it will be.
I carefully opened the Paris book, making sure not to bend the cover or wrinkle the first few pages. Book nerds will know this ritual. I got a few pages in and found the most delightful surprise. A night sky with stars. Again, kudos to the designer as well as kudos to the publisher who spent a pretty penny on this book. Sidebar: I am not a fan of ereaders, and this is why. There’s nothing that can replace the tactile feeling of a book in your hand. And when it’s designed well, as this one is, there is absolutely no competition between this and an ereader. None.
Starry, starry night…
I started reading this after my jump rope session yesterday, which by the way is kicking my butt. But I sleep soundly afterwards, as if I’ve been at the beach all day, sleeping in the sun and frolicking in the ocean. Nevermind most of it consists of me trying to skip for more than 30 seconds at a time without crashing and cursing.
I’ve got some stuff to do today, so I will revisit the book later. As most of you know, I often write about Paris here on my blog. The Olympics are getting underway and I’m seeing all of these images of the Eiffel Tower lighting up at night, as well as the recent full moon captured in the Olympic circles on the Eiffel Tower. What perfect timing then, than to read this book?
What’s your favorite game (card, board, video, etc.)? Why?
My favorite game is the game of WordPress prompt vagary.
The song Wicked Game by Chris Issac is my second choice.
While I’m here, please watch this space for a new undertaking of mine. My last day with the agency is today, and I start my new job in the upcoming days. I have not had time nor inclination to write much, write well, or write at all. While I have not been motivated to write, I have been motivated to enjoy what is happening outside. I have even gotten back on the treadmill, which has for several years been a ghost town.
It’s been a time of tremendous change since March, most of which I didn’t ask for, but that’s life. We move on and we continue to move forward. Sometimes moving forward hangs a quick right, and we recalibrate. I hope you all will continue to give me grace as I navigate The New. Thanks, everyone.
I sought security. I’ve sought it since March when I learned my whole department was terminated to save the company money. I was shipped off to an agency which lasted two weeks. I was not interested in working on the account to serve my former employer, thank you very much.
I exited that job for another agency. The people were kind, and the pay was decent, but the insurance costs were steep. And I hadn’t had enough time to grieve the loss of my job, which I held for 14 years and I was really good at. I exited the second agency after a month. I did well and left on good terms. In fact, my supervisor offered to be a reference for me or to be a resource, if ever I should need it.
I took about a week to regroup. One morning, my eyes popped open, and the thought was put into my head to log onto a job search site and look at the jobs. Much to my surprise, there was a job similar to the one I’d held for 14 years. I applied for the job from my bed. It took less than 30 minutes. Within a few days, the first interview took place. Within the next few days I performed the skills assessment that was timed and observed. It was the most stressful skills assessment I have ever taken in my life, and that includes my first examination to get certified in my field. I wasn’t sure if I would pass, but I did. I found out the next day that the department was sending over my information to HR, and were looking forward to me joining the team. I was thrilled. A permanent home. A job that would feel like home because it was an environment that I had known before. The difference was in the kindness. This new company has been nothing but kind since the beginning. My former employer? The word kindness is not in the vocabulary.
Speaking of kindness, I agreed to start at another agency prior to knowledge of this job opening, and obviously prior to me gaining the position. This past Monday, I joined that agency, and these people are also extremely kind and have been wonderful. I am being compensated well, but the cost of insurance continues to try to financially sink me. To stay there would mean bankruptcy for me. I do not exaggerate.
Thursday afternoon my phone rang while I was staring at it waiting for HR to call me with the official offer. As soon as I answered the call, I heard a woman giggling. There must’ve been a funny joke prior to her calling me. Between her giggles, she asked for me. I told her she had the right person. She apologized for her giggling. I knew it was the HR hiring manager from the new job. Please understand, no one ever needs to apologize for giggling in my presence. I told her as much. She made me an offer and we had a pleasant conversation. The next steps are in motion and I have a tentative start date. I have to say, from start to finish this has taken a very short amount of time and feels like an absolute gift.
You may think I’m crazy, or you may just not believe it, but I am convinced my mother had a hand in this job acquisition. I can’t explain why the thought to go to the job search site was placed into my head when I didn’t put it there. I can’t explain why the first interview invitation went to my spam folder and the Director called me from her personal cell phone to be sure that I was interested. I can’t explain why it took less than a month to gain employment at a prestigious company that holds some of the most kind people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
I also can’t explain the giggling, but if you knew my mother, you would know she would be capable of something like this.
You see, I got the verbal offer on the birthday of one of my brothers – the 11th. He texted: “Happy My Birthday to you,” after I informed him of the news. Every year, my mom and I would meet him for birthday lunch. Often, it was on 12th of July. That’s the day in between our birthdays.
He was joking when he wished me a happy birthday on his day. The truth is, it’s a birthday present for me, it simply happened two days early.