The Princess

Last night I watched "The Princess Switch." Place: Chicago and Monrovia (fictitious kingdom.) Time: Current just before Christmas. Characters: One woman, a pastry chef in Chicago invited to participate in a Christmas Cake Contest in Monrovia. The soon to be Princess. One male sous-chef and one prince. One daughter of the sous-chef. The Royal Family.

Not really giving anything away, but the two women run into each other and it turns out both women look exactly alike. They trade places for a few days so the about to be newlywed can have one last adventure before having become and behave like a "Royal."

Nothing really heavy, a romp, and free on Netflix Prime. But I really got involved with the concept and found myself wondering why. First what "caught" me was that the movie takes place at Christmas time in Chicago and Monrovia, and as you can imagine, Monrovia was a most amazing, beautiful, winter and holiday decorated place to be.

The second catch was that one of the women was a pastry chef and as you know cookies, pies, cakes, etc are my major weakness ... especially at Christmas time!

Turns out, this old man (me,) who has had the love of his life in Gregory, who does not want or need another love relationship, who in many ways has led a successful productive life, and who doesn't want for anything material; found himself  identifying with the woman who got to be "Royal" for a few days and the results which followed.

Being Gay, I did not want to be a woman but wanted to be swept off my feet by the handsome prince. Also, the idea of suddenly being able to be something so different from what I could ever be, the magic of it was scintillating!

More money then you could ever need, such beautiful living space and surroundings, so many people attending to your every need, being admired by so many others, being able to have whatever you wish, and in the case of this movie being able to do such good for others in a magnanimous way were all part of my enjoying and being moved by the film.

I would guess everyone, at one time or another, would like to be in someone else's shoes but still, it amazed me that I was so involved with the fantasy and often on the verge of tears!

Mexico, Here I Come

I hope I can capture in writing the beauty of last night's final dream before waking up this morning. The dream was very colorful and partially in Spanish.

In some ways it is a vision of what my future could be. Gregory was in the dream with me living a full, vibrant life. But suffice it to say that Gregory does live in that way in my memory and in my heart.

The dream takes place somewhere in the Mexican countryside. I purchase a property that has maybe five or six buildings on it. All are in the Mexican style: painted adobe, low, many rooms open to the air.

Some have open roof decks on the main level or on top of the second floor. Some have stairways running up the side of the building to these open decks.

While most of the area is scrub, raw, and brown with summer dryness; there are many pots filled with colorful, native flowers blooming for all their life.

The houses and land feel Mexican which can only be felt if you have traveled or lived in Mexico yourself, so I will not try to explain that feeling.

The main building is my home. It is one of the two story ones and is newly painted a beautiful brown earth, mud color. It is more sophisticated than the other buildings but none the less Mexican. I called it The Big House.

The kitchen is in a small side building next to the home and is painted in a grayed out salmon color. It is well equipped with kitchen stuff (although primitive when compared to my current kitchen in the condo) and well stocked with food which will provide delicious meals.

Not too far away from the home is the guest cottage, painted a buttercup shade of yellow. It is simple but ample enough to provide comfort and privacy for guests when they are not part of the ongoing activities at the big house. As you can guess, this one was called The Little House.

Out back and away from the house is another building, painted a bright turquoise, which houses my studio, office, get away, call it what you will.

The other two or three buildings, painted in various bright Mexican colors, are smaller cottage type structures. In these houses live the two or three Mexican families who had been squatting on the land before I purchased it. I like to think of this area as The Community.

They are making the slow transition to their continuing to live on the property but now in my employ instead of having to scratch for a living.

There is a vibrant energy about the place and this disparate collection of owner and workers relate well to each other with respect and a certain kind of love.

The owner works as well and eventually the property will be turned over to the workers who will then be the owners.

The men will run the small farm we will create and the women will cook and clean when not helping with the farm. (Not being sexist but in the dream this seemed like the logical conclusion. I guess if a man wanted to cook and a woman wanted to farm, that could be arranged.)

There are several older men and women and they will help out when and if they can. Just having them and their wisdom around will be wonderful for everyone.

There are at least half a dozen young children, making noise and running around as they play. Ground rules will have to he set up with having them play further up on the top of the hill and in the one story open sheltered building, and not running through my house.

When the local school is out, maybe I will teach English to the children in this building. This building and area is named The Playground. It will also serve as a space, with its wooden tables and outdoor kitchen, for the "Community" comes together to celebrate the many Mexican holidays and Saint Days.

Life on this finca is peaceful and calm. All involved become part of a larger family of loving, caring people trying to live each day with joy and meaning.

(The word finca just "came" to me while I was writing this so I decided to look up its meaning: A finca [finka] (Spanish for an "estate") refers to a piece of rural or agricultural land, typically cottages, a farmhouse, and estate buildings present, and often adjacent to a woodland or plantation.)