Monday, August 17, 2015

Reaching for Where It Was

Moving in isn't enough. A house is an organic thing that responds to its inhabitants. It takes a long time to get the two in sync, which is what makes a home. So, being inanimate, the house relies on its inhabitants to sculpt that synchronicity. Some part of me, I have recently realized, is resisting change of any kind.

Yes, it's that part of me that still reaches to the left for toilet paper, when it resides on the right side: reaching left for toilet paper is what I did in Pasadena. Some part of me, after four months, still wants to wipe like we used to. Oh, good; now I'm using the first person plural for myself. We are not amused.

I think I haven't been blogging for a number of reasons: nothing of any consequence is happening, and yet it is. Little clicks of the second hand of my life seem inconsequential, but looking over the last month, a lot has happened.

I had dinner with Jackson (exec. dir. of the LGBTQ resource center) on the 14th and had a chance to talk about getting involved in the community, getting an idea of the strengths and resources available, what problems we face, how I can help out. 

Later that week, I had dinner with Dick Record, who owns a half dozen or so radio stations in the area. He's a really delightful guy, probably in his early 70s, with bright blue eyes and who only drinks vodka. Not a vodka snob, you understand; any vodka will do, but don't try to push off wine or beer on him. He also mentioned that he takes trips with other people, so I may have found a traveling companion. (Not that I won't travel alone, but many charges are for two, so there's no break for a person traveling alone.)

The following Tuesday was a monthly social evening (dinner and a get-together somewhere in the area) and I met a few more new people. Click click click. Most Friday nights I've gone out to Ettrick for Pizza Night with Steve and Pam. Click click.

On the 20th, I went out to Bath Fixers for their presentation and estimate. I wasn't real pleased at how little the designer listened to me. I also didn't like the $21,500 estimate (that's almost $400 a square foot!) so, after much gnashing of teeth, I've decided to put the bathroom remodel on the back burner until I can get a couple more contractor referrals from a few of these new friends.

I really didn't celebrate my birthday (the 29th) this year. Several people asked about it, but I wasn't motivated to try and organize anything. The Saturday before, Emily and Jim came over and we pulled up the hideous-ugly rose carpet on the main floor, so that was a kind of birthday present. They took the carpet back to Ettrick with them, as Pam is going to make area rugs out of it.

Once we had the carpet up, the floors revealed themselves to be in good condition, but they had been refinished, over the years, only where the area rugs weren't covering the floor, so there's a band of refinished floor in the dining surrounding and older, varnished finish that the area rug covered. The living room floor is a similar patchwork. There are the chinks and dings you'd expect in a 80-year-old floor, but refinishing it all at once only makes sense. I've checked with a local refinisher on procedure, but I'm not moving ahead with the floor until it makes sense.

That same Saturday, Amanda and Natalie dropped by later in the afternoon, bearing a houseplant and a pot-and-tray set as a housewarming/birthday/Christmas gift (Amanda made the set at a local ceramics glazing studio). So it seems I ended up with birthday presents, unsought but highly appreciated.

In August I've done a speaking engagement for the Center, talking on the first Pride parades (I attended several early ones in San Francisco back in the '70s). It was all off the cuff, and in the middle of it I got a flash of "I was there" and "I saw it happen" while speaking. Instead of making me feel old, it made me see the arc of where we've come and what it's cost.

August 8th was our 7th wedding anniversary, and I spent about a week missing Steve, trying to remember the old house in Pasadena, trying to forget the old house in Pasadena, taking time to sit still and feel summer here in my new home.

I spend time at night, sitting out in the back yard, feeling the evening humidity in the air. My skin remembers the feel of it from Chicago and the first four summers of my life. The insect music in the dark and the appearance of a solitary lightning bug circling the small tree, the approaching thunder storms with flashing clouds and sudden downpours: click click click. Every second is a karmic Lego brick, joining together while I, unaware, find a foundation slowly forming under me.

So I've had several weeks with no real form or routine. I'm kind of feeling my way into this new life. I eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired, and clean up when the mess irritates me enough.

Since the whole bathroom remodel thing was put on hold in my mind, I find that I'm avoiding spending any money at all.  I finally went out today and bought a bed for the master bedroom, which will be delivered tomorrow. This should be a fun experience, since the master bedroom has pretty much been the room everything went to when there wasn't room anywhere else. It should be a new experience actually occupying it (I've been sleeping in the guest room up until now, because it already had a bed).

I needed to get a bed because my sister Kittie and her husband David are going to be flying out to visit for about a week. They arrive this Thursday evening, so the bed purchase was cutting it kind of close.

So the next couple of days will involve the logistics of the visit, stocking in food for three instead of one, finding out who is free when and what's happening when and what they want to do while here. Pam, as always, is a font of information on what's going on when, so I'm positive they won't be bored.