Costa Mesa is still home sweet home

I’d love to tell you that we could have chosen to purchase our new

home anywhere in the county, but that’s not true. We did find fault

with some elite communities, however, and regardless of the price

tag, I doubt we would have considered a community such as Villa Park.

That’s just too far from the beach.

In our efforts to find a new home, we considered communities all

over the county. We thought about Huntington Beach and decided it is

too big. Irvine is too boring, and Fountain Valley is too, well,

there’s no there there. Santa Ana is too citified, and Laguna Beach

is just too odd.

We also decided not to spend the millions we made from our

WorldCom investment in a home in Newport Beach for fear of giving the

wrong impression. Instead, we’re going to use our WorldCom stock

certificates to cover my office walls. It’s cheaper than wallpaper.

So after all the discussion, after all the travel and all the

advice, we chose to stay in good ol’ Costa Mesa. This town is like my

basketball shoes. They may not look perfect, but man, are they a

great fit.

Our decision was rewarded with a notice two weeks after we moved

in that this week the city would be coming around on a “large item”

pickup by the hard-working trash collectors. Our driveway had the

usual two cans of refuse, but on Thursday, the guys also hauled away

10 sliding closet doors, several large cardboard boxes filled with

stuff we should not have moved from our old house, a vacuum cleaner

that may not have been ready for the dump, some sort of steel gate

that the old owner kept for reasons unknown and two metal trashcans

that over time had themselves become trash.

The metal trashcans were a dicey issue. After all, despite the

rather large holes in the bottom of each one, they were filled with

junk, serving, still, as trashcans. Cay and I wondered whether the

trash collectors would dump the trash and leave the old cans or just

throw everything away.

To remove any doubt, I decided to put a note on each can, asking

that they be thrown out along with the trash. It was one of the times

when I actually wanted someone to throw out the baby with the bath

water. These babies were in bad shape.

But before I got a chance to leave the notes, the trash collectors

had arrived and were stuffing our junk in the truck. The notes were

unnecessary, for years of experience left them no doubt that the cans

needed to be canned.

Watching them throw trashcans in the trash, I was reminded of the

joke comedian Lily Tomlin used to tell about the guy who buys a small

trashcan for his bathroom and takes it home in a plastic bag. When he

gets home, he takes the can out of the bag, sets it on the floor,

then puts the plastic bag in the trashcan.

Our next reward was the periodic newsletter from the city of Costa

Mesa.

Among the assorted news was an alert that the city was giving away

trees. In an effort to beautify an otherwise good-looking town, the

city, for a limited time, is handing our free trees.

The program seems to be pretty popular. We’ve put in our order and

won’t get the trees until mid-September because of high demand. The

city’s Joe Bogart has been instrumental in dispelling any myths about

government workers. He is prompt, courteous and knowledgeable,

according to Cay, who has been working with him to get the trees.

“Arlene” at the city’s Parks and Recreation Department is also

prompt, courteous and knowledgeable, also according to Cay. At this

time, Arlene is trying to find some vacancies for our kids for the

immensely popular Camp Costa Mesa, a day camp in which kids have too

much fun.

Camp Costa Mesa is so popular that the day reservations are taken,

parents wait starting at dawn to secure spots.

A few days ago, camp Costa Mesa’s activities included a

demonstration of a drug-sniffing dog during which, apparently, real

marijuana was hidden and subsequently sniffed out by this wonder dog.

I doubt that my kids had ever seen real pot until that day, and I’m

not happy that someone chose the camp to show it to them. The camp

should be for fun stuff like skinned knees and volleyball, not drug

awareness.

But that’s life here in Costa Mesa. There is always something. And

where else would you read about a guy getting so excited about his

trash?

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(949) 642-6086.