Adulting is so tedious. And I find myself with so many “adult” things on my To-Do list.
There’s paying the car insurance that is due on March 12. Thanks to an encounter with a motorcyclist that was driving in the bicycle lane, my auto insurance is now $300/year more expensive than last year.
It wasn’t even my fault. How did I know that he was going to try to dash around me in the bike lane just as I was attempting to make a right-hand turn out of a traffic jam?
Last week, I left Albuquerque to visit Texas and Oklahoma.
Instead of driving from Albuquerque to Oklahoma City, I had decided to fly to Dallas, rent a car, and go from there.
I spent one night in Dallas, where I met up with an old friend or, as we agreed sounded better, a friend I’ve known for a long time. We worked together years ago when I’d first graduated from college. She treated me to dinner and we enjoyed gabbing, catching up for several hours.
As a life-long learner, I enjoy being a scholar. Here in Albuquerque, the University of New Mexico offers continuing education classes in the summer, fall, and spring. I always look through their catalogue to see what’s available.
By trial and error, I’ve discovered that I do better with classes that are shorter, that only run for a few weeks or even are one-timers, like the UNM Writers’ Conference “From Start to Sales.” It’s an annual day-long seminar for writers.
It’s snowing here. Ever so lightly, but snowing. The sun’s trying to peek through, but the clouds are winning. I’m watching the fat flakes fall as I eat lentil soup, bought at the deli over on Nostrand. I will miss being able to walk a couple of blocks to the deli. And the grocery, the bagel place, the bank, the health food shop, the nail salon, the hipster coffee shop.
Next week, I’m going back to the Land of Enchantment, where it’s sunny 280+ days per year and you have to drive everywhere. I might call it a trade-off…if I were a sun-lover.
I have the best problem in the world. What’s good about it? I have many, many friends.
So what’s the problem? They’re scattered to the four winds.
Last week, I read an article about how difficult it is to say goodbye to friends. The article was referring to the life of an expat who was preparing for a move to a new location. The author was concerned about “losing friends” in the move.
“A beautiful sight. We’re happy tonight. Walking in a winter wonderland.” Love that song.
The reality, not so much, but it’s the price I’m paying for staying in New York through January.
I’m working on another book. For me, it’s back to the scene of the crime. I started this damn book…ahem, this work of art…eleven years ago when I was living here. It was my first book baby and I was overly protective of it.
Do I talk about a year that I’d rather forget? For me, 2016 can be summed up in one word–difficult. Nothing could have prepared me for the death of my son last May.
Do I concentrate on looking forward? For the first time in many years, I don’t have “plans” for the new year. I have some ideas and goals, but there’s no strategy for accomplishing them. And there are no travel plans. Yet.
Technically, I’m traveling now. I’m sitting in a brownstone in Brooklyn, NY. I spent Christmas with my BFF and Fran, my former student, who was visiting from Chile. Travel makes for interesting connections.
The other night, I went to a new wine tasting group for the first time. When I arrived, there were two women sitting at a long table.
I sat down next to the younger one, and she immediately stuck out her hand in greeting.
A long time ago, back in my youth, someone, somewhere, maybe the home economics teacher, taught a class in social etiquette. There were many rules of behavior. Some of them had to do with dating manners, such as men walk nearer the curb when escorting a woman down the street. Sounds quaint now, but originally, it was meant to protect her from the street muck in the horse and buggy days.
A thousand years ago, before I got married, I had a full set of cast-iron cookware, including the Dutch oven and the cornstick pan, from which cornbread bakes in the shape of little corn-on-the-cobs.
My future ex-husband wanted me to give it away because his parents had promised us a set of the latest and greatest, T-Fal. I argued it with him, but he was adamant that it go. As a dutiful future wife, I reluctantly boxed it up and put it out for the church rummage sale.
A couple of months later, we got married, but no T-Fal ever materialized. For the duration of my marriage, I cooked in odds and ends from his bachelor kitchen, waiting for the gift-that-never-came.
As soon as my divorce was final, I bought myself a set of T-Fal, but it didn’t hold a candle to the cast-iron that I’d given away. I always regretted letting it go.
A week ago, my laptop drowned when I accidentally spilled a glass of water and it splashed across the keyboard.
At first, only the space bar showed signs of being affected, but by the following day, the entire keyboard was dead. The laptop wouldn’t even turn on, so off to Apple I went.
That store is always a zoo. People playing with the products, people lined up to sign in for an appointment. Even to buy something, I had to sign in. I dutifully put my name on the list and went to wait near the sample laptops.