I haven't completely acclimated to Tucson's weather. I don't wear a turtleneck when it's in the 70s. I'm still flabbergasted to see guys hot-tarring a new roof in the middle of a 105+ day. I still sweat. (Funnily enough many Arizonan's don't.) But everything that's in the news about the heat dome being brutal is accurate.
On the other hand, the heat seems to stop no-one from doing what needs to be done. You still run errands. You still go to work. You still see friends. In fact, a new friend of mine said it best. "I'd rather bitch about the heat than the cold." Now that I've been here a year, I am beginning to see her point.
I'm not sure if I can call this new person a friend yet. I met her at a nearby coffee bar/neighborhood market kind of place. She seems very kind. She knew about our "collective." Which surprised me. In DC your neighbor's house could be set on fire and no one would notice or comment. Unless Donald Trump happened to be standing nearby. I told this new person (I don't even have her name yet) a little about my current life. She told me a little about hers. And we agreed to have coffee together again and find out more.
I was kind of pleased with how easy it was to connect with a stranger.
Updated: Aug 14, 2023
Pen had another meeting with the architect and I got to sit in. It was really interesting to see the intensity, the level of focus required to turn a flat plan into a livable, breathable house. Actually six houses. One for each of us and one "play house,"our new designation for the common space structure. Next week they will finish the concrete and then three weeks later the framing should begin. Of course there are inspections to pass but nobody seems worried about that.
After the meeting, during our lunch (which was incredible BTW--fresh burrata drizzled with figs and bites of garlic bread) Pen talked to me about the houses and the design process. I listened carefully, because I always do with Pen. But I was struck by the fact that she was already living in those structures. Mentally. So completely that she bent down while discussing where a floor socket could be placed. While she walked me through the other electrical components I felt like I was talking to a person with a virtual reality headset on. See could see everything. I could see nothing.
Naturally, she didn't notice the disconnect. She was totally absorbed.
I decided I better study the plans better.
Well, not we. This expert team from Tucson came in with heavy equipment and a giant shoot that they carefully used to pour the cement into all the nooks and crannies of the frames and footers to become the foundation of our new common house. Thanks to Pen we are on our way to building our little community.
I have spent my life letting Pen provide for me when, if it were up to my own finances, I would have said no. When we were fourteen and in boarding school I was spooked by the idea that Pen had no boundaries when it came to money. Nothing was impossible because of money. Nothing was longed for because of money. I didn't know what to make of it since I was being raised by a single working mom in the 50s and 60s.
I soon figured out that Pen wasn't cavalier about money, it just wasn't a governor on the engine of her life. And because my family didn't have money she refused to let that fact be a governor as well. My mother who was my mentor, confident, and spirit guide told me to relax. "You are just afraid of being beholden. Accepting a gift is a gift--end of story. Equation complete."
I miss my mom almost every single day.
