Every six months or so I send my resume to Robert Redford's Sundance Institute. I believe that with a strange name like mine eventually someone will say, "Hey, I think I've heard of this person," and won't realize it was simply resume repetition, and therefore give me a job. I'm not sure this would even be my dream job, since I pretty much apply for whatever is open whether I'm qualified or not, but it's an interesting exercise in persistence.
Some of the jobs I've applied for are in Park City, Utah while others are in L.A. I like to imagine what my life would be like in these two very different locations....
In Utah, I meet a group of ski bums (complete with canine companions) who have been there so long they remember when everyone dressed like a clown to ski the slopes on April Fools Day. Nowadays, should you dress in such a manner on this day, you will be informed that your season pass will not be accepted. I say, dress like a clown to ski every day except April 1 and see what the stuffy resort owners have to say about that.
In my CA life I live in a lovely old Spanish-style apartment building with a fountain in the courtyard and trees and flowers. Everyone knows everyone else and we have impromptu gatherings on the Mexican tile steps outside our doors smoking cigarettes (I hate smoking actually, but it seems appropriate in this scenario) and talking about our dreams. The old lady next door was a film actress in the 40's. She wears elaborate silk dressing gowns and collects cats - real cats - that she refuses to name. They roam around the courtyard weaving our legs together.
On the first day of winter we make paper snowflakes and string them across the courtyard on thread beneath which we set up tables full of candles where we drink hot cocoa and share our favorite comfort foods. In the dark we project 'Christmas in Connecticut,' an old 40's movie, onto the wall. Peter from upstairs has secretly spiked the hot chocolate and we all sleepily head for bed and dream of snow.
In the morning I take my coffee into the courtyard and say good morning to Sara who is sneaking out of Scott's apartment. They have recently tripped into love and naively believe it's a secret. She comes over, wrinkled, her bra in hand, and gives up the charade. I offer her coffee and she reveals her joy and her fear. A cat tangles herself in Sara's bra, which is dangling from her lap, and runs off with it.
Bart comes out with his yoga mat and proceeds to salute the sun. He wears a leotard, a little too small and very revealing, but he likes it and I have shed the embarrassment I once felt on his account. Sara makes a face. I shrug. We drink coffee in comfortable silence.
4 comments:
Spiked hot Chocolate! I'm in....
When does your book come out?
I love your CA life and long to hear more about the UT life. . .
Auto - I got the info on the clown skiing from Pam Houston who lived in Park City before it became commercial. I gave one of her books to bdoc. She's a great writer. Writes A LOT about river rafting - she is a river guide. I think you have much in common with her, except that you don't have her problem with men. You should check out her books!
Post a Comment