Capers and More Capers

This has so far been a Memorial Day Weekend full of memories. Saturday the 26th saw the final disassembling of a home of 15 years, down to the milk from the refridgerator and the last bobby pins from the bathroom. We had a stalwart group of dear dear friends show up throughout the day to help/participate/visit. The rations consumed included: coffee, yesterday's pizza, beer, wine, champagne, tequila, sushi (of a vast and colorful assortment---such a welcome donation). The pantry yielded 2 or 3 large boxes of foodstuffs that friends took home with them to remember us by. But the mochi came with us, again. When we moved 15 years ago into that house, we brought the mochi in the fridge from Noe Valley. We speculated that Doug or Malcolm might take it to college with them and that, if not, we'd end up taking it with us should we ever move. So truth is stranger than fiction. This is the mochi from 1992. We will never open it, for that will disempower it as a talisman.

Some friends came away with really good door prizes ---- like a pedestal sink. Various boxes of shoes were given new homes. We kept, however, the dogs. There were, I think, several offers to take Twist, but he is one of our 3 favorites, so we declined. The day moved into the evening, when a little phone call from Doug added a novel spin to moving day. He and 4 friends had decided to walk from Palo Alto to the southern end of the GG Bridge on just that Saturday. We had updates on their progress throughout the day. The little phone call from Doug came at perhaps 6 pm: "We're in Daly City on Skyline Blvd., and my friend has had an allergic reaction---can you come take him to the hospital?" Of course. Two mintues later: "We've called an ambulance instead" . (Better idea.) "Can you come get the rest of us so we can go to the hospital with him?" Again, of course. So off I go with one of the Dear Friends to rescue the college boys stranded in extremely fog-bound Daly City and reunite them with their comrade. Reunion completed, we made sure the comrade was stable and treated, then returned home to stuff the remaining sushi into our v. hungry selves. We then turned round, drove 2 cars (one belonging to a Dear Friend) back to the hospital in Daly C., left one with Doug to ferry his friends back to school with, then went back home yet again. We were very tired. This adventure was described as yet another "caper" by one Dear Friend. It was time to say "See you Tuesday" to all and to all a good night.

Off to Sleep & Dream of Horses

Not I --- our niece, Jade. We will not see her often now, and up to now we've seen her very very often, lots of sleepovers in her plaid sleeping bag on the floor with the flowered lantern for reading. All the dogs wanted to join her there, either burrowed down into the bag with her or, in the case of the dog that weighs more than Jade does, draped across her, pinning her to the floor with love and body mass. Last night on the phone just before her bedtime she mentioned she'd been reading about caribou ("Do caribou lay eggs?"), so I said that there may not be caribou in New Mexico, but there certainly are horses. We'll go riding together in New Mexico, I told her, now off to sleep and dream of horses.

Acquisition

The more I bustle around this Big City getting things done and just getting things, the more I think about the lack of opportunity for acquisition, for nearly instant gratification, that will be in the forefront of living in the Littler City (much littler). Here all is available --- food, drink, clothing, oddities, desirables, temptations, experiences --- and often within a small period of time. And is this a good thing? It certainly is gratifying, and, without slouching toward puritanism, I do wonder if perhaps a bit of deprivation (relatively speaking) isn't such a bad thing. To have to wait just a bit, to reflect on what you think you've decided to do or get. There will, of course, be concomitant frustration, especially for those of us so accustomed to Big City speed and satisfaction.

The Last Pastry

A friend wrote a note recently, a line of which I take liberty in quoting: ".....the countdown begun and every last pastry could be your last for quite some time from that place, whichever one it is." That place. Yes, indeed. It's interesting to contemplate the last meal, the last cigarette, the last kiss. How do we really know (unless we're on the scaffold) that it is the last? And last can be okay: the last lap, the last question on the SAT, last call. I'm not sure I want to get caught up in lasts. I'd like to function more on a continuum, ebbing & flowing, having experiences merge and complement each other. The older I get the less I see sharp distinctions in life; the influences show their inherent relativity and are, to me, somehow more comforting that way. But I've always been an asymmetrical kind of person.

Driving Into Town

This will most likely not be a poetic post. Exhaustion has set in, and coherence may suffer. Our latest adventure was the misguided attempt to trade in 2 cars for 1 at a dealership! Fools rush in.....A tiresome hour later we pulled back out of the lot in our 2 cars, resolving, yet again, never to go near a car dealership. We have now resorted to carsdirect.com. At least there's some distance and the prospect of a car being delivered to one's own house. Amazing. There must be a catch somewhere, right? Ah, cars ---- a bane and a curse, but, oh, so useful! I am more than ever commited to my plan to learn to drive a horse & wagon in SFe, something I've wanted to learn for a long time. Romantic folly, perhaps, but also such fun. Whatever happened to fun?

More Than A House

How do you leave a house that's more than a house? The sounds are salient: specific doors close in ways pertinent to each child; stairs creak idiosyncratically; water flows differently in each bathroom; the hum of the dryer floats up and around from the garage. Occasionally the fridge beeps because it is left open while rummaging happens.
The sounds seem the strongest. Especially at night when there is little to compete with them. The exhalation of breath when the front door softly closes at 2 am, and you know someone you love is home safe, yet again.

We came here a long time ago. To leave is hard for us all in our own ways. But it is inevitable, whether now or later, however later. Home is a House in our Hearts that floats, drifts, settling when the venue and time are right, and becoming a physical presence.

May Day

This is the first day of the last month. It is also the last day of the staging of our house, the tarting-up into "generic hip" that was to have helped sell it. The tray of blue martinis in the back room (non-alcoholic, to be sure) is a dead giveaway on the hipness. Won't miss those. What we will be left with after the removal will be:

1. three beds
2. 3 sofas
3. a desk, a chair, a lamp, this computer (thank goodness), a printer, a fax
4. some kitchen things
5. a dining table and chairs (but not for long because we're selling them--check for the flyer)
6. oh, and some clothes and oddments of towels and sheets

This is perilously close to camping. Only the indoor plumbing and modern electricals lie between me and That Existence. I cling to my duvet for reassurance.

The dogs, too, will welcome the departure of the staging. They will now be able to rocket around on bare floors, hardly a stick in their way, their shrieks echoing, damn loudly, all over the house. We won't have to keep them away from the blue martinis, either. The poor things have been bewildered long enough with their very non-regular last few months. All in all, though, they have been troupers and serve as examples of pluckiness that we humans ought to follow.

Margarita is back tonight from a whirlwind 36-hour trip to Santa Fe. She has lots of lovely photos of the house, so I now remember how much I like it. And since we only ever saw it with a foot of snow on the ground, the revelation of a wonderful rambling 1/3-acre yard is even more uplifting. I feel quite lucky and know I should rise above the crabbiness about the staging since it will soon be Of the Past. So, you see, the title of this entry is not a call for help but a celebration of the coming of Spring & Newness (with a nod to the IWW and Rainbow Grocery).

Distressing Lack of Books

Books in our house are now at a premium. Everything is in storage somewhere in Hayward. Everything. We are so used to saying, "Oh, yeah, let's look that up" or "I know we have a photo of that in X book". Then you turn to the shelf where that book has stood for years, and it's not there. But you see it in your sad, deluded mind. They're like friends with very big vocabularies, just waiting to be consulted and visited from time to time. I tend to re-read books, specific ones in cycles. How nice it will be to see them all again, out of boxes, breathing, looking around at their new shelves, waiting for new friends from New Mexico funky book stores to take up residence as well.
In the meantime it is fun, though, to return to the public library, like when the children were young, and find books you weren't even looking for. Santa Fe has just opened a new library, it's second (at least, I think)---pretty good for a town of about 65K people. Hope it's open on Sunday.

Phone Number Challenge

If you could have the Pefect Phone Number what would it be? A new version of your childhood number? Something very symmetrical? For those of us who have esoteric opinions about things like address numbers, this dilemma is indeed burning. Our new prefix will be 98something. From there I come up with pleasing, lyrical combinations, check with the phone company and have my hopes dashed every time. Other people have commandeered my phone number creativity! Or maybe they don't even know what a good number they have. Margarita suggests contacting those with the best numbers and persuading them--gently--that it is in their best interest to surrender the number they clearly do not appreciate. I think I'll just go with the flow on this one. I shall accept the number the phone company has bestowed. At least it's not too horrible.

The Big Fight

No, not something lucrative on pay-per-view. This is the probably inevitable meltdown when two devoted and committed adults leap over the cliff called "Selling a House". Don't worry--no dirty laundry here, just the admission that the lows in this process come to us all, sneak in at unsuspected moments, and ultimately remind us to look on the bright side!
What did I say earlier about rut-ville? It's now more like traversing a mine-field. Where are those darn sappers anyway?

A Restless Native?

The native is from San Francisco. Now there's a place to leave after 20+ years. Born there. Educated there till college. Ten years away in higher education. What will become of me when I no longer have the cachet of nativity, detailed knowledge, and an elaborate history? I guess there's something to be said for re-invention. Or maybe just a little re-arrangement of the pieces I like best and casting off those I regret. It's all a good obstacle to scale, though, and keeps me (with luck) out of rut-ville for the next few years.
I am happy with the move to a place that is inland but also desirable. Those of us who relate to the New Yorker cover of the northeast coast and the California coast as the only two bastions of civilization girdling a wide swath of hinterland and barbarity can, I hope, see that I am striving here to move beyond the provincial and look for value and depth outside my comfortable, (smug?) position as the San Franciscan.

In the Light of Day

I hope the various mental challenges of this process will preclude my ever succumbing to senile dementia (Remember when Alzheimer's was called that? Is it better or worse when we have some researcher's surname to define a general term?).

A few words to the wise:
1. Do not collect Too Much Stuff. Stuff just becomes a burden when it comes time to dispose of it. Very few things are worth carrying through one's life. Very few. Even books---and I revere books.
2. Never let lag any paperwork about your rental or house purchase. It's not fun to have to scamper to finish things up before moving/selling.
3. Remember that all-in-all one is very lucky to have a roof over one's head, indoor plumbing, people you love who love you, and health. Easy to say but hard to synthesize.

I guess that's it. When one lies awake at 3:32 am with these things in mind it helps to make complete sentences of them in the light of day.

Friends

Strange to think about living in a place where everyone will be of new and short acquaintance. We're leaving a place with friends of nearly 20 years. That is a history of fun, mistakes, forgivings, understandings, some dramas, and many layers of knowledge of one another. A creation of texture and time. Of course, that won't disappear; it just won't be as accessible as before. So the challenge is to look inward and rely on that history as a way of moving forward. And in the meantime I shall miss everyone very much.

In Limbo

Now that our house in SF appears to be sold, gone, spoken for, we look east/southeast- ward to our hew house in SFe, whose signature artwork is on the front page of this site. The horsemen of something----I think they're soldiers of the Peninsular War era. What was happening in New Mexico in 1800? Have to check on that.
At any rate, they grace the entry wall to the house and have a jolly "we're off to something" air, so they seem an appropriate talisman. The horses look pretty fun. Maybe I can find something similar in SFe.