Other People's Houses #2

We arrived safe, sound and tired in the states two weeks ago Thursday. We stayed with my dad just outside LA and we stayed with our friends in LA for a few days to cut down on driving (sitting) in traffic to see people.

It's a funny thing staying in other people's houses, not like we did in Singapore and Bali, where the houses are furnished but the people are not there, so you try to make a home out of other people's things. But like you do in the states when you stay with people, their furniture, their animals, and their routines. It takes a bit to settle in and to make yourself at home - to slide yourself into some one else's already established routines.  I was raised with that unspoken rule: when people say, "Make yourself at home"  - don't. So I try to be a good guest and polite, to help with the dishes, to not be disruptive, to not ask for too much.

But now that I'm an adult and have a child, I've learned that I was raised with the rules of a neurotic bygone era, that with good friends I can walk in and make myself - and my child - at home. Admittedly, my child surprised my parents. I forgot to warn my dad about child proofing. I forgot to say it would help me deal with the jet lag post fatigue syndrome if the place was child proofed so I could relax and not have to worry about my almost two year old son being within reach of the knife drawer. It took a few days to get the place situated for an almost two year old. Once the house was safe and the knife drawer had one of those annoying plastic things that you have to push down in order to open the drawer, we could relax a little. Still, everyone has the way they do things, and even when you are mindful of this, you don't do things the way people would if they did it themselves and you are mindful of this not doing as they would until your mind is tired of being mindful of the already established way of doing things and you just have to go to bed and blame the overwhelm on the jet lag.

After a year, it is really good to see and to stay with people. And we do miss having a place of our own.

This afternoon, we left LA. We were ready to leave though we sadly didn't see all the friends we wanted to, but we were anxious to get to cooler weather. We drove to a friend's house in Lake Arrowhead where the air is crisp and chilly. Our friend's house has a beautiful view, a king size bed with bed warmer and it is big enough for Fyo to run around with out injuring himself on dangerous objects. Nonetheless, we pulled up out front, parked the car, and sighed.
     Here we are again in somebody else's house. I said.
     Yep. Kent said.
     It is the house of a good friend where it is easy to be comfortable. He is a bachelor, so there are some things we come prepared for, like that his refrigerator is empty except for a carton of milk and a bottle of ketchup. This is vastly different from my dad's house we have just come from where there are two refrigerators so full you don't know how all the food is going to get eaten before it goes bad. When we come to Jeff's house we bring food to tide us over until dinner (when we order a pizza) and a bottle of wine. But his guest bedroom is always made up, and, that we now appreciate, is a gift in itself. When you don't have a bed of your own, it's nice when people create one for you.