Tuesday, December 27, 2016

In Transit

We have moved. Just a skip to the left. And then a step to the right. The gang’s all here now. We brought over the harbor seal. Word is there’s actually a cat under all that blubber, so put your clubs down, boys. We have a new puppy in the house, thanks to my stepson jumping the gun, and bringing home a furry ball of cuteness the weekend we moved in. My only contribution is the name, Loki. So, if you’re counting, that’s three cats, one dog and a pony. Oh, wait. That pony was just visiting. He’s since moved on to parts unknown.

Our house cat, who looks remarkably like a harbor seal.
We are now in the very quiet neighborhood of Wedgwood, which sounds rustic, or like a really painful wedgie. We were blown out of our straw house and our stick house, so now we’re ensconced in a brick house. I’ve been enjoying the quiet evenings here, after previously using my iPod to drown out the sirens, buses, and other city noises on 15th street. Here at the brick house, I sit on the front porch and listen to the rainfall. I see neighbors, walking their dogs. I see trees of green and red roses, too. I see them bloom for me and you.

I walked to work today and it only took me thirty minutes. Apparently you can get there from here. It just takes a little longer. I took a zigzag route through a nice neighborhood, counting “Black Lives Matter” signs on the posh homes of rich white folks. Nice scenery though. I’ve been admiring all the wonderful holiday decorations, including the ten foot tall inflatable polar bear and the candy cane wielding stormtroopers. When my 23-year-old stepson found out that I was still walking to work, he said, “Wow. That sucks.” I have always enjoyed walking and being able to walk to work and back is a pleasure and a healthy one at that.

I’m not going to lie. It’s been tough these past few weeks, moving households while working in retail during the busiest time of the year. I’ve been packing books at home and unpacking books at work. Last Friday’s one day total at the bookstore blew away the previous record. December has been a bit of a blur and the end of this week is also the end of the year. There really is too much going on in my life for me to handle it all in any practical way, so I’m taking a step back emotionally, and trying my best to go with the flow. Over time, the water wears down the rocks, and carves its own path.

My young co-worker says, “The fun never ends,” but the truth is that it ends long before your remaining family members draw straws to see who pulls the plug on your life support. The fun is just beginning. My four-year-old grandson is now living with us. He still calls me grandma, so now not only am I the only atheist stoner in the house, but I’m apparently also the only transgendered grandparent in the house. I don’t bake, although I do get baked. Grandma is his own man.

"Do you know the muffin man? Girl, you thought he was a man, but he was a muffin." -- Frank Zappa

No comments: