“Rubber Ducky, you’re the one. You make bath time so much fun. Rubber Ducky, you’re the one for me, dee dee dee dee…” Grinning from ear to ear, I spontaneously burst into song one morning in the Rubber-Ducky-themed bathroom at the home of my friends, Mark and Pamela. They were going out of town for a week, knew I was in transition, and offered me the keys to their beautiful Ventura condo. “Come. Stay. Make yourself at home. Eat anything you want. Here’s the parking pass. Please bring the newspaper in and put the trash out. Good bye.”
The upstairs hall bathroom has a Rubber Ducky shower curtain, two duck-shaped bathmats, Rubber-Ducky-bordered towels, and a collection of ten Rubber Duckies in a variety of colors on the bathroom counter including a boat-rowing ducky, a mother ducky with three ducklings on her back, a blue one and a black one. Pamela is African-American and her husband Mark an artist from Switzerland. “Where’d you find the black one?” I asked, only to learn there is a Rubber Ducky store. The Rubber Ducky soap dispenser, twice the size of a normal one, emits a loud QUACK! QUACK! QUACK! while dispensing soap. There’s a framed Duck family portrait on the wall above the towel bar; one member irresistibly looks you in the eye. This is the way to start a day. With joy. With laughter. Having fun. Bursting into song.
The guest bedroom has two deep, rose pink walls and a Holstein-cow-patterned duvet cover bordered in red. The two oversized bed pillows feature Swiss cows (you know they are Swiss from the white cross on the red background. Also, they say “Swiss love.”) Black-and-white ceramic cow lamps grace both nightstands, and a beanie-baby-like Holstein cow sprawls on one, leaning its chin on big red lips that say “Let’s smooch.”
A triangular Toblerone chocolate bar awaited me on the pillow at bedtime. Hanging in the walk-in closet opposite the bed was a ghost with a gauze body, skeleton head and bony fingers reaching out to me. I texted Pamela: “Thank you for the skeleton greeting! Please thank Mark for the candy bar,” knowing full well the reverse was true. At week’s end I hung the ghost from their garage door opener to welcome them home when they parked their car. A replacement Toblerone bar was rubber banded to the skeleton’s bony, beckoning hand. The skeleton was still there a month later when I visited again. They let it scare them periodically just for fun. On my second visit, they were in a hurry leaving, so I had to make my bed. When I picked up the duvet cover, a rubber spider the size of my hand dropped to the floor….and, a candy bar. “Eeeek! A spider! Lol…” my next text read. Needless to say, the spider is now hanging from the garage door opener, and the ghost returned to the closet. Mark has a new name. Whenever I talk with Pamela I tell her, “Say hello to Spiderman.”
Amid the art on the cow-guest-bedroom wall are three-dimensional, silver-glittered letters that spell “enjoy.” How could you not? There is such a sense of playful abandon in these rooms, it’s impossible not to enjoy. I think Mark and Pamela need to give decorating lessons to mental health care facilities. Pamela is a nurse. Patients and colleagues who encounter her are lucky to experience the joy-filled love she emanates from her being.
One of my spiritual teachers said, “House is consciousness,” a reflection of our state of mind and emotions. Mark and Pamela embody the lighthearted playfulness, joy and love their home reflects. It was a delight to be there. As delightful as it is to know them and be with them.
