The two things we liked least about our new apartment: the draftiness, and the shower’s poor drainage. We chalked both up to the 1898 building and prepared to cope, as we had in our beloved Kyoto house (uninsulated) and equally cherished apartments in ReykjavΓk and Paris (old pipes). One windy evening I happened to be standing next to one of the front sash windows when I felt what was unmistakably a fresh breeze. I put my hand up and found it was coming from the top of the window. I angled my head so I could see underneath where the blinds attached, and lo and behold — the window wasΒ open. I hadn’t realized they could open in that direction. Stunned, I inspected the other ten windows and found at least two of the others also boasting an inch or two of air. Of course I closed them all, and we haven’t been as cold since. About a week later I thought to email the landlord about the shower; the plumber came the next day, and now we shower without dirty water pooling over our toes.
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Lyapa is with us now!
We drove down last weekend and fetched her back from our kind friends who’d been looking after her since before we went to Tampa. As soon as we let her out of her carrier, she ran to hide under the bed, but alas! she discovered our new platform frame has no under-bed space. She’s not pleased about this, but I am, because the dust in the apartment has just about tripled since she got here, and it’s satisfying to know I don’t have to dust-mop under the bed. Lyapa seems happy to be here, and dust and hair aside, we’re glad for her company.
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Sometimes I feel lonely, even though we’re so near the places we’ve lived for years: San Jose, Berkeley, San Pablo. It’s not that we have no friends here but that everyone is busy, and the friends whose schedules were more aligned with mine have all moved away. Some days I’ve felt we might as well be in Istanbul or Iceland. But I know this is a normal part of adjusting to a new place, especially for me the near-ambivert; particularly while I’m getting my bearings, I fear/disdain people almost as much as I long to make connections, and this stops me from going out and socializing. I am not concerned. Things will look quite different in a month. And we are seeing old friends this weekend.
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There is a cemetery a few blocks from our place. We wandered into it one afternoon and found it unexpectedly beautiful, set into the hills and reminiscent of the Glasgow Necropolis, only sunnier. We returned the other morning and had another ramble through it, the first, I imagine, of many: Wikipedia tells me it covers 226 acres. It was founded in 1863 and designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, the landscape architect responsible for Central Park in Manhattan and the Back Bay Fens in Boston. We saw graves of immigrants from China, Japan, Korea, England, Wales, Finland, Sweden, Germany, and other countries whose languages/scripts I didn’t recognize. A more recent headstone honored a “bountiful cook,” and next to it, her husband, “maker of puns.” Next time I’ll bring my camera.
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I feel very sanguine about my work today, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s because the sun has come out after days of grey mornings and rainy afternoons. Maybe it’s because I read a couple of books yesterday that I liked and which were each, in their own way, about creativity and making one’s own place in the world. Maybe it’s because the fridge is full of ripe avocados and herbed chicken and Swedish cheese. Maybe it’s because I walked a lot yesterday. Maybe it’s hormones. Anyway, it is good.
On Sunday I bought a bunch of daffodils and then realized I had no idea how to paint all that yellow. I put it off all week, and then today it seemed possible.
“I put it off all week, and then today it seemed possible.” I love that….and I love the daffodil painting. Such happy color!
Thank you, Sherry! I like it too — the yellow looks so delightful on our green wall.
i miss the friend whose schedule aligned with mine π
be gentle on yourself and settling back in. i miss the Bay but i realized that it was almost better to have uprooted and started over than to have returned to a place where i would have needed waaay too much effort to reconnect and rebuild the connections i had 2 years ago. given what had happened to me, laying low in a place where there was little to do, was easy. *shoulder shrug* miss you friend!
Kuukua! I was definitely thinking of you when I wrote that line. π I hear you on uprooting being cleaner. I might write another post one of these days, about re-adjusting to a place that feels like home and yet very changed at the same time. Big hugs!
I love your little ‘thought-bites’ and the daffodil painting’s lovely!
Thank you doubly, Angelina! π I might have to do more posts in this format — everyone seems to like it, and so do I, because sometimes I just have that many little things on my mind, and I want to share them all. π
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great daffodils. also like the little musing paragraphs.
let’s get together soon! i will email you.
So happy to have seen you β€ β€ β€ Our first non-family guest and dinner guest!
Hi Lisa, it was a big pleasure to read your post, I feel like I have just had a chat with you and it was pleasure to read/listen to your thoughts. it looks like Lyapa and you are nesting well in your new place. I wish we could live closer π Beautiful daffodils. I completely fell in love with them since we have got them in our flat too and I cannot wait to paint them. However I feel pretty much the same how you felt, how to approach all that yellow :). But you managed so beautifully. Big hugs to you and lots and lots of love, my dear friend!
Dear Aga! I wish we could beam you here for a cup of tea (I have some lovely new-old teacups I’ve been happily using) and perhaps some cake. π I enjoyed the daffodil photos on your blog. Did you paint them? Lots of love to you too. I put a note in the post for you today. π
I remember when you were traveling and would talk about that fear/disdain, the loneliness, and settling in. I remember the posts changing as you started recognizing those feelings when you would go to a new place, for the change they represented. And now you see it as part of the change, part of acceptance, rather than (so it seems to me) as something as negative as it might once have been. I wonder if this recognition or awareness that you now have, of what these feelings mean, make that transition time a little easier for you? On a lighter note, the snippet of the open windows was very funny, and I liked the daffodil painting very much. We still have snow, so it was great to have a splash of spring today. Thanks for that.
Oh Lisa, what an insightful comment. Yes, I do definitely see this lonely adjustment feeling as part of the experience now. Rather like my finicky stomach, I feel that if this is the price I pay for getting to live my life — if this is just how I am put together — it is absolutely worth it. And having been through it before, I’m no longer as afraid that this state will last forever, because I know it won’t. You’re very welcome for the daffodils! I’ve been seeing friends’ snow photos on Facebook and it just amazes me to think of the difference in climate. I’m wearing a tank top right now. A tank top!!!
Thought-bites…that’s a good word! Happiest about water-no-pooling, and finding yellows possible after week. And Lyapa π
Also for goodies in fridge and books that inspire, and a house that is now warmer π
π There is so much about this new home that feels like a gift. I’m so fortunate. It’s becoming a very happy place. π