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End of the Move

 

FROM MY MOM'S GLOXINIA PLANT. OVER 50 YEARS OLD. STEVE AND MICHELE HAVE IT BECAUSE THEY'RE PLANT PEOPLE, BUT THEY GREW A BABY ONE FOR ME AND I THINK IT LIKES ITS NEW HOUSE.

FROM MY MOM’S GLOXINIA PLANT. OVER 50 YEARS OLD. STEVE AND MICHELE HAVE IT BECAUSE THEY’RE PLANT PEOPLE, BUT THEY GREW A BABY ONE FOR ME AND I THINK IT LIKES ITS NEW HOUSE.

I declare the move to the new apartment officially over–Sunday, May 8th. I say that because for the first time in over a month I’m am paying attention to writing again. I’ve been doing my assignments for class but otherwise journaling, blogging, reading (an essential part of writing), thinking about the book, the ‘100’ flash pieces, listening to the lectures and poems in my Coursera poetry classes, and trying to think like a writer has been on an extended break. That Is Over. Done. Back to work.

First though one last post and a small album of photos from my new place–which I seventy-five percent love. The apartment is great now that my stuff surrounds me, good layout, windows in every room (unlike my sweet but cave-like previous digs) from which I can see green. The street is, as previously stated, boring, but the neighborhood behind me is quite lovely and I’ve discovered I’m okay living in The Heights, an area that the more arts-oriented among us have long decried as soulless at worst, dull at best. Maybe I’ve just never admitted to myself I am not particularly soulful although I’ve always known I was not exactly the animated life-of-the-party type. So…I guess I Am Home. There are still some things to do, but I’m out of home-improving energy and money for now.

It’s Mothers Day. One nice son has called and told me to look for a card in the mail and the other nice son and daughter-in-law are taking the moms to the Cheesecake Factory, which has just arrived in Albuquerque, to dinner. Loved it when eating there in San Francisco so am quite happy about this day of reading, writing, good food AND A NEW HENNING MANKELL SERIES ON PBS this evening.

LAUNDRY/LIBRARY/GUEST ROOM

LAUNDRY/LIBRARY/GUEST ROOM

ALL IS WELL NOW THAT THE VOODOO ART FROM HAITI IS IN PLACE.

ALL IS WELL NOW THAT THE VOODOO ART FROM HAITI IS IN PLACE.

 

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Home is Where Your Stuff is…

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April 30th. It’s a rainy evening…April showers and all that. I realize how happy I am to be in my new home. And it’s not even The Home yet! A good month and May will be even better as I properly settle in among my favorite things and even a few brand new favorite things like a dust mop, big bright green fern, and best of all an IKEA Day Bed for the guest room/library/laundry. But more about that in the future.

I wrote a small review of my life at 208 that I’ve decided to include here just to properly close out a major phase of my life.

April 8th. This morning was my last morning alone at 208. Sixteen years. A passage. From late-middle-age to pre-old-old—a small amount of nostalgia/sentimentality/memory-gorging allowed. During this16 years, here’s what I did:

  • Discovered my kids siblings grandchildren cousins are my best friends and have begun transitioning into a sweet little old lady—the kind of whom it is said, “Wasn’t she just the sweetest thing ever?” Or Not.
  • Made (with a lot of help from my friends) a festival called Global DanceFest of which I am very proud.
  • Traveled a bunch.
  • Became a blogger—of sorts.
  • Discovered the wonders of gyms and walking and feeling strong.
  • Been the sometimes excellent, sometimes mediocre director of a small but brilliant arts and disability organization.
  • And…prepared myself for the next (possibly final!) stage of life as A Writer by blogging, getting a UCLA certificate in literary non-fiction and by Starting The Book and the 100 (more about this later also).

It’s been great

Two-oh-eight.

Now moving on uptown

To Write

All of the time

Anything else a crime

Because there’s no more time time time…

 

Perhaps I’ll be a poet.

Perhaps Not.

Moving: The Countdown to Saturday

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The fourth day from now I’ll move—with a lot of help from my sons of course. I do feel quite sentimental about my eclectic downtown neighborhood, the Bosque nearby, and my brightly-walled apartment. That is until the upstairs kid thunders across the floor above my head and then sentimentality goes right out the window.

My new Northeast Heights neighborhood is…well…is…boring. But pleasantly quietly so; single story; tiny yard where I could grow turnips out back and maybe raise a couple of Leghorns—that’s a joke; dishwasher, garbage disposal, washer, dryer, windows in every room; elementary school across the street in case I adopt tiny children; decent pizza place in the hood—although pizza is not among my favorite foods; little further from work/little closer to the gym. Economical. What’s not to like except the boring part?

I’ll move in my stuff, add a few extra IKEA touches and a new era will commence…hmmm…how many of those do I have left?

I do like reasons to declare a next life-phase about to begin though. Yet one more chance to Get It Right!

Moving

DUCK OF 2016

DUCKS OF 2016

It is time. I’ve lived downtown for over 15 years, same apartment, and I have loved it. Just the right size, cost, landlords, neighborhood. A few months ago a rather rambunctious family moved in upstairs, not awful people, just awful right above my head. It has taken me a little time to realize I can’t will these people away, and that I’ve just been really lucky all of these years with upstairs neighbors. So dear downtown apartment, with great reluctance I’m am severing our fine relationship. At least it was with great reluctance until today.

I took the day off, wrote for a long time and then headed down to the river after too long not walking. Halfway through the walk I realized I was done with here. That I wanted to move. That 15-year stint is longer than anyplace I’ve ever lived except for my 18 years at my original home in Koochiching County, Minnesota. Long enough. Done.

Steven will go with me Saturday on a first reconnaissance mission for the right neighborhood. Must be between work and the gym and his house. In fact, although he and Michele and Sara are far up on Paseo and Tramway, that’s where I would like to live. The problem is money of course. Steve’s neighborhood has few rentals and they’re probably all out of my price range since I must stay at the low end of that food chain in order to continue traveling. Damn…hate the reality of things.

There’s all the time in the world to search fortunately because I’m still not unhappy here. Just annoyed and bored. Which is the way my walk felt today. Boring. I need a new path.

So dry. None of the juicy spring of the snowy melting north.

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