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Tarot Cards and Chiquita St, Pt 1 of many...

Sometime in May 2023, we had about a month left on our lease at the house in North Hollywood. AND GOOD RIDDANCE considering it was essentially a tiny home - with no heat. One of our roommates had decided to get her own place, so Sam and I were on an apartment search. We saw a few cute spots; one on Los Feliz Boulevard that was on the market a little too early for our moving sched, and another that was perfect except for the fact that it had a white lady landlord with dreads named Ursula. She seemed alright, but to be a white lady landlord with dreads named Ursula is a red-flag in itself. 
Barboo, my mom, had been staying in the Hollywood Hills with an old friend and was looking for a place. She had told us, “if I see something perfect for the three of us, I’ll call you and tell you to come meet me ASAP… but don’t get your hopes up.” 
One night, I pulled some cards from my favorite tarot deck. It was a gift from my Gramps, a deck called The Witches’ Tarot by Ellen Cannon Reed. The images are these 1980s style cartoons, with silver pentagrams on a black backdrop on the other side. Despite having completely different meanings than the traditional Rider Waite deck, they’re the only tarot cards I have that are always right. One of the cards I pulled that night, the ten of wands, depicts a person holding up an image of a home with the actual home in the background. The other card I pulled showed a blonde kid and a redheaded kid running on a lawn in front of a large house. 
The next day, we got a call from Barboo to come see a house she was touring… ASAP. I forget where I was, work or something, but I didn’t go to the initial walkthrough. Sam called me and told me the home was fabulous. They took it on the spot. 
The home on Chiquita Street was magical. It looked very similar to the house on the tarot card I had pulled the night before PLUS I’m blonde and Sam’s a redhead. The big backyard sealed the deal for me, I knew I’d have the boys back there building a stage in no time. The house was timeless, it looked like it hadn’t been updated since it was originally purchased in 1949. Of course, the developer had the interior poorly spray painted white and the floors had been replaced but never stained. There was rust in the showers and only one burner on the stovetop worked. It was flawed, but it was special.
After a few ghostly run-ins, (my Mom heard a wolf-whistle while wallpapering the upstairs bar and my phone flew across the room on its own - twice) I paid $1.27 on some website to find out who the original owners were. We learned that the house had previously been owned by Gene Cipriano and his family. Upon further research, we discovered that Gene was the most recorded jazz session musician in history. This was music to Barboo’s ears, as she’s the ultimate jazz lover (she’s released two jazz albums). Barboo was floored when she accidentally opened some mail meant for Gene, a package that included a list of all of his work and features, everything from Some Like it Hot to Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga. That was the start of a long, incredible summer in LA.

That’s all I got at the moment. 
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