As If God Can See Them From Heaven

On a recent house hunting trip to Dayton, Chris and I found ourselves spending a great deal of time in our car. All weekend we drove around, neighborhood after neighborhood, town after town, trying to find "the one." To save money, we booked a room in the cheapest motel we could find and took the dogs with us on the trip. The motel turned out to be what we presumed was a crack house/whorehouse where the baby mama who cleaned our room lived in the room above us and our room had a collection of overlooked cigarette butts and unmentionables under the furniture.

We took the dogs as opposed to boarding them, first because it costs $25 a day to board them in a place they hate and second because the motel, as luck would have it, allowed pets. I lovingly call the boarding kennel "Doggy Camp" to make it sound more exciting to the girls when we have no other option but to board them. But Chris has taken to calling it "Doggy Concentration Camp" and I think this gives the girls a complex about it. So, when we can travel with them these days, we do.

Now, when I booked the motel room, there was nothing online about pet fees, so I was under the impression it would be free to bring them. All the better. However, when I showed up at the "Whore-A Day Inn", there was a sign on the counter that said, "Please notify us if you have pets with you." So, being the honest person I am, I told the lady about the two small dogs we brought with us. To which she responded, "Are they clean?"

Startled by this concern for sanitation I began to respond that yes they were clean but I choked on the stale cigarette and mildew stench emanating from every corner of the room. The place was really called "The Red Carpet Inn" and I imagined it getting it's name from the amount of brutally murdered dealers and hookers found on the floors of the rooms. After a few coughs and regaining my poise, I said, "Yes, and they are house broken so there shouldn't be a problem but if there is I'll be sure to let you know."

"Okay, because I don't want them to mess up the carpet but if they do, just let me know so I can shampoo it," she said. Then I paid my $3 per dog, per day fees and we headed to our room.
After our first trip out to look at potential homes the next day, we returned to the motel to find two shirtless guys in lawn chairs hanging out in front of the building. They were slouched over a little hibachi grill, beers in hand (cans, not bottles) with their laundry hanging to dry from a nearby tree. Baby Mama heard us pull up from her open window upstairs and leaned out and shouted, "Hey! I put new sheets on ya'll's bed today!" and she gave us a friendly wave.

So, we went in to enjoy our fresh sheets, the only thing in the room that did not smell like cigarettes and mildew, rested up and headed out to search again. Every time we left the motel, we had to take the dogs with us of course because God only knows what kind of havoc they could wreak on our immaculate home away from home. But having them in the car with us everywhere we went proved to be a tenuous experience. The first day was hotter than I expected and although I kept cold water in a dish in the car and the windows cracked with the car parked in the shade, I felt bad for the girls and was concerned about their comfort. We kept them air conditioned as much as possible and got them out for short walks in between looking at houses but eventually I started feeling pretty guilty about the long day in the car for them.

So, when we broke for a bite to eat at a local shake shack, I bought them an ice cream cone which they shared voraciously. After our brief intermission with refreshments, we hopped back in the car and about ten minutes down the road we noticed an unusual odor from the back of the car. Somebody had tossed up the ice cream cone. It laid in a mushy off-white pile in the back corner of the car and every time we turned a corner or came to a quick stop, a paw or a tail would inevitably end up in it. Chris got a look on his face like he was going to hurl himself and began yelling, "Oh God! For crying out loud! That is so gross! God I can smell it all the way up here!" He turned on the AC full blast and leaned into it taking deep breaths as he drove.

He rolled down the windows but this unleashed a tornado of dog hair that had been accumulating in the back seat. So there was Chris, face smooshed into a putrid scowl, gagging and breathing straight from the AC vent while he swatted swarms of dog hair from his face. Occasionally he would make spitting noises which I assumed meant he had gotten a hair in his mouth and was trying to expel it without letting go of the wheel.

Eventually we pulled over so I could clean up the mess, get the girls out of the back for a brisk walk and get Chris out for some fresh air. I didn't have much to mop up the puke so I grabbed a few napkins which had collected in my glove box from the occasional fast food runs, and found a bottle of car scent. The bottle had lost it's spray nozzle so in desperation I just poured the coconut scented liquid onto the spot. We all calmed down and collected ourselves and got back into the car. We were hit by an overwhelming wall of coconut breeze but at least it was better than vanilla ice cream and stomach acid.

By the end of the day, we were becoming desperate to make the best of our situation. We still had not found a house, the car smelled like a tiki bar had overturned on us, the dogs were getting restless and shedding profusely and Chris and I were losing our sense of humor. That's when we noticed the stars. "Do they mean something? I mean are you a member of something if you have one on your house?" he asked me. "You mean like a cult or a secret society?" I said with a laugh. Apparently since I was the only Ohioan in the car, I assume he thought I had some inside information on this peculiar mystery. As if there is like an underground society of rural Ohio housewives who obsessively decorate in rustic decor. Although I have witnessed an inordinate amount of Ohio homes covered in wooden carved ornaments and fabric decorations, it's not like I have a membership.

Anyway, we've not seen the stars anywhere else in the country, so far. They come in all shapes and colors and some even have the American flag painted on them. Either way, it is uncanny how many houses you will see in Ohio with a star nailed to the side of them. We supposed that in the tradition of the fashionable goose and the porch flags that let everyone know what your favorite thing is, these metal 3-D stars are the next big thing in outdoor home decor.

So, we made a game out of it. As we drove through the neighborhoods, every time we passed a house with a star, we'd punch each other in the leg and yell "Star!" Houses with multiple stars got a punch for each star they had and American Flag stars automatically got a double punch. Whoever spotted the star first and got their punch in won that point. We were having fun with our stars and were perfectly content to entertain ourselves at that level when suddenly the residents of Troy, Ohio raised the bar.

By Saturday night we were still driving around and it was getting dark. That's how we were able to spot them. Like beacons lighting up the houses as if the family's were hoping God could see them from Heaven, these three foot arrangements of multi-colored lights hung proudly from porches and outside walls. Chris did a double take and blinked a few times before hitting the breaks and exclaiming, "Are those rosary beads?" I turned my head quickly to adjust my sight on what he was looking at. Sure enough, there hung in all their glory were large looped strands of lights with lit up crosses hanging from the bottoms. Giant rosary bead light arrangements.

"Are those seriously freaking rosary beads? Are you kidding me?" Chris was incredulous and began laughing in amazement. I too was shocked by the sight and began laughing hysterically. "That's awesome." Tacky took a higher level in this little town. Once we saw one, we began to see them everywhere. Around every corner another house lit up like a Vegas chapel. There was no special occasion, it wasn't Christmas, but for some reason, the God-fearing townspeople of Troy decided to Hail Mary their homes with the proudest display of religious fervor I've seen since the days of Tammy Faye. We paused for a moment, slowing the car down to a gentle halt and sat staring in a moment of silence at this statement of devotion. Our cheeks basked in the glow of the multi-colored bulbs and for a brief moment I was almost touched.

I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice if I could find myself a set of these giant rosary beads to light up our motel? If God really can see these from Heaven, well those people need all the help they can get." Then I thought, "I wonder if Jewish people put giant lit up Stars of David on the outsides of their houses?" But then I thought, "No, that would just be asking for it. They probably just stick to the yearly understated mennorrah and call it a day."

Anyway, we left feeling like our weekend in the car and motel was like a visit to Soddom and Gomorrah; animals and vomit, hookers and cults. It was just too much. Seeing the calm yet slightly creepy rosary lights was like a north star guiding us back to Bethlehem. We were going to survive this trip with only slight trauma but also with a renewed strength in pursuit of what will one day be our home. And when we find that home, I might just hang a small set of rosary beads on the wall to remind us of our suffering.