The other day I helped my son move into a house here in Lansing. Directly across the street, there was a fire in the front yard.
It was past eight o’clock in the evening and pretty damn cold out. I came outside to grab more stuff out of the car and paused to admire the fire across the street. There was a metal fire “dish” smack dab in the middle of this tiny yard and flames leapt four feet above it, driven by the cold gusts of wind.
The neighborhood is older homes, ranches and more bungalows. The lots are forty-feet wide and it’s pretty easy to get into each other’s business because you’re all so close.
I watched in particular because there was a massive pile of leaves—no doubt driven there by the swirling winds—up against the house, and I expected those leaves to catch fire any second.
Also of note, there was no one tending the fire. I’m no fire marshall, but it seemed imprudent at best to get that fire going in the middle of more flammable material piled against the house and then walk away. Then again, maybe it was God’s presence—the burning bush!—and I was supposed to pay close attention.
The front door was open and the glass storm door offered a fine view into this ranch-style house’s interior. As I watched, a woman ran from an interior room past the door and then back again to wherever she had been. But it wasn’t just any woman.
It was a naked woman.
My guess is she’d been about to get in the shower, remembered that she’d just bought a new shower sponge at Target but left it in the bag in the front room, and scampered naked through the house not realizing the open front door would offer me, an unintended peeping tom, an eyeful.
From what I know about anatomy, I’d say she was middle-aged and reasonably fit. From what I know about kinesiology, she had decent form as a runner: erect posture, swinging arms, smooth gait. But now I know why sports bras are so critical, as her breasts slapped from side-to-side as she jogged across the room.
I’m Not a Peeping Tom…I Promise
I often joke about being a peeping tom because I walk the dogs late at night, but I don’t actually look when windows are open.
That said, I was once in Key West and saw a woman naked in a hotel.
The cool thing was that I was ten years old at the time and had never seen a naked woman before. It was the sort of thing that makes you grow up a little faster than you planned.
The not-so-cool thing was that the naked woman was my grandmother.
My family had driven to Florida to visit my father’s parents, and we’d jointly stayed at a hotel in Key West. Grandma and Grandpa were in one room, and my family was in the next room, with one of those adjoining doors connecting the two.
During the trip, I’d come down with Strep, and had gone to our room to sleep. When I woke up, I made my way towards the bathroom, glanced through the open adjoining-room doorway, and there was Grandma in all her glory, laser-cut tan lines across her chest and waist, giving me an eyeful.
When I looked up, she was staring at me. I kept walking and locked myself in the bathroom.
We never spoke of the matter.
Was I impacted by this encounter with my naked grandmother?
Only my therapist and first two wives can answer that question. I’ll say no more about it.
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
I’ve made steady progress on the next novel. The fun part is that I’ve gotten all the characters introduced, the settings explained, and the basic mechanism of the story working, and it’s quite fun to write it now.
My process is to come up with a five act structure before I start—which takes me months as I ponder the possibilities—and then write with plenty of room to breathe as the characters assert themselves. Things change, basically, and I’m not following the plan I spent months creating.
But it’ll be cool.
It just occurred to me I never have naked people in my stories. I wonder if that’s related to seeing my grandmother naked…
Upcoming Books and Stuff
I had a satire piece published in Robot Butt that I hope you enjoy:
Open Enrollment for Red-Blooded Americans
Maybe You’d Like
I’m partnering with a bunch of authors of crime and thriller stories if you’re interested. As always, this is the best way to judge a book by its cover. Take a look and see what you may like…
Crime, Cozy, Detective, Police Procedural, Promotional Giveaway
Happy Holidays! Unwrap a thrilling gift to you.
Mystery-Suspense-Thriller 25 Days of Christmas Giveaway
Recommended Reading
This past month I read two novels, one about life in a holocaust death camp, the other about life under authoritarian rule. They were brutal, and I mention their titles to pass along the truth they protrayed of what monsters we can be to each other when lust for power, and hatred of those who are different, rules our lives:
- This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentleman by Tadeusz Borowski
- A Tomb for Boris Davidovich by Danilo Kiš
Next Picayune
I’m taking the rest of the year off from the Picayune but I’ll be back in early January with more stories of a life spent writing. I’m planning to go big next year with books and stuff, so hold onto your butts.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune. All the best,
–mickey
P.S. Happy holidays to you, however you celebrate this time of year.
If it involves gifts, might I recommend a nice paperback book by yours truly?