A new season

Written last night:

Even here in California the trees are losing their autumn leaves. You can step through crunched golden crumbs on the sidewalk, then look up and see they came from the tree shedding leaves without ceremony. As in Tallahassee, fall here is not splashy, but leaves do drop, it is chilly in the morning, and the days are shorter: 6 a.m. is dark now. It seems like, without ceremony, I too am shedding — not leaves, but I am letting go of a season — the stunned feeling that covered me these last three months is dropping away. 

Today, for instance, was kind of normal! First thing, I dealt with the bank and the insurance agency (simple questions, really, finalizing the transition from Tallahassee to Sacramento). Now I don’t hesitate to ask "dumb” questions without apology.  Later in the morning I practiced driving, like a 16-year-old. I’m going to have to take a driving test to get a California license. I drove  up Broadway to the DMV and picked up the book to prepare for the driver’s test. On the way home I got lost, kind of on purpose,  disregarding the Mazda navigation system. Rosa and I went home by instinct. I also drove around in West Sacramento, which is just across the bridge, and got lost and found myself there too. A week or so ago I simply couldn’t have done this. I was frozen. My life in Sacramento is beginning to warm up. 

Not that I’m completely normal! No, my transition is slow, like autumn leaves fall, one by one. But I do feel more “myself.” I did other normal things today, like give Zing a bath, and tell him sternly “No Bark!” I walked to the library to sign up for a card, and made a donation to the public radio station, which Clark and I always did, and took note which streets are filled with people and which ones empty quickly after 5 p.m. I learned my cruise control wasn’t working because I hadn’t turned it on. Oh, and I made a quick trip to Ikea in West Sacramento. I bought some cinnamon rolls, which is reason enough to go to Ikea. They’re right up front, and you don’t even have to venture into the terrible maw of furniture and style beyond. I did go in there, but it was overwhelming. I’m not ready for the complete Ikea experience yet.

Love,
k

Wind by the river

Written last night:
I have a thing for bridges, as you know. Brooklyn Bridge, Golden Gate Bridge, southern Indiana covered bridge — all are thrilling, but the best for me is the Rickenbacker in Miami. I love the way it feels at the rise near the center. There is always a breeze, always a broad view, and sometimes even a bit of drama from the passers-by or the mementos left on the railing. Everyone says there’s so much gorgeous nature for me to experience around Sacramento — but secretly, to me, it will have to measure up to that wild feeling at the middle of the Rickenbacker. Today I got a little taste of it. 

About 5 p.m. Zing and I walked the few blocks to the Crocker Art Museum. (Part of the way I balance-walked on the curb.) Just beyond the museum there’s a short, unassuming bridge over the freeway. For the first time, we crossed over it. Ho-hum. We found ourselves on the River Walk, a broad cement path overlooking the Sacramento River. I was unimpressed. Rivers remind me of work and places you go when you can’t get to the ocean. I sat on a bench, gazed at the water, with the freeway buzz close behind me. Then I stood up and began to walk the path with Zing, and right then the wind picked up and swirled my hair; for just a few seconds it  felt like that strong Rickenbacker breeze. (To me, the wind is magic and God and maybe even Clark all rolled up in a gust.) It felt great, and I thought maybe I’ll give this river a chance.

Earlier this afternoon I talked with Florida friends Jennifer, an artist from Tallahassee, and Pam, whose career at Carrollton kind of echoed mine.  I am delighted that friendship stretches this far! 

As for work — it was the usual: screwing chairs together, driving to Michael’s to get art framed, digging down deep into the automatic bill pay function of the bank … answering stupid questions like what was the make and model of your first car? Fiat 500, of course. Don’t tell! 

Tomorrow is the first day of Fall. Wherever you are, enjoy the change!

Love,
k

Losing power

Written last night:

I don’t even know how to tell you — today the electricity suddenly went off midmorning. I was screwing the legs of one of those new chairs to its seat when the A/C halted and the refrigerator clicked. I figured it was somehow related to all the construction going on around here. After all, I could see three big cranes on the roof of the Wells Fargo building on the next corner, and I could hear city workers sawing limbs off the trees down at street level. After a while I opened the doors to the balcony because it was getting hot inside. Finally I went to the HOA office on the first floor to see what had happened. They had no idea. No one else had complained. (Just then a woman named Darius peeked in to say her lights had indeed flickered some time ago.) I went back upstairs and the condo was still dim. The freezer registered 17° instead of zero. The clock on the stove was flashing. I was finishing up that first chair when it dawned on me that I had probably not paid my electric bill. That’s right — I paid Sacramento utilities, but I discovered today that it did not include electricity. The condo association pays something but it’s not electricity. (It’s trash pickup.) In the maelstrom that has been my brain all these things got jumbled. 

The beauty is I made a call to the city and quickly talked to an actual person. She said they try to notify people when a turn-off is imminent, but sometimes in condos and apartments that does not happen. She got me hooked up in less than 30 minutes, working so kindly and efficiently that I didn’t even feel embarrassed. (I’m more embarrassed telling you!) So that was this morning. 

I had relied on Clark, and he on me for these bills. They came up one by one and we talked them over. Often it was Clark who made the phone calls concerning service. Once set up, they worked smoothly and we -- or at least I -- barely thought about it.

But this afternoon I made a sweep of other bills I’d been paying, without changing from the old setup. AT&T (They seem to call it ATT now.) was still in Clark’s name and I hadn’t streamlined the number of devices on the account. Today seemed like the day to take care of that. No harm done there, thank goodness! 

You hear about people who lose electric service routinely, then pay the bill and have power turned back on. Today it was me.  

This took so much time that the afternoon slipped away. I got another chair put together, but have two to finish up tomorrow. 

At lunchtime Zing and I walked over by City Hall, and one block beyond we came upon a well-preserved Victorian house turned into a Hostel. 

Really, when you visit me I expect all my services will be well organized, but if you feel you need the name of a good, dependable hotel, that hostel is a quick walk down Fifth Street. I noticed that the lights were on inside.

Love,

k

Waiting for the creation

Written last night:

I feel kind of worn out. I guess it’s that pieces of life here are coming together: budget, handyman, learning the road to Home Depot. Even after dinner tonight someone knocked on the door; it was delivery of four chairs for the trestle table. Now their big boxes block the hallway. Pretty soon I’m going to have to start really living here, and that is scary.

To get our bearings this morning, Zing and I walked to the main library on I Street, and then to City Hall nearby. These are the bones of the city, and I need to know where they are. We passed fast-walking early risers balancing their coffee and their iPhones, and also plenty of homeless. A woman sat on the sidewalk, pulling on her socks, and right on City Hall lawn two men huddled under sleeping bags, with a third body between them — a large, yawning dog whose head popped up as Zing passed by.

When I’m painting or making a quilt there’s often a point just before the end when it all feels wrong. Then, you keep right on going and whoosh! soon you’ve created something new, or it has created you. That’s where I am now: waiting for the creation to happen!

Love,
k

Sacramento City Hall 

Cesar Chavez Park
across from City Hall

but can dogs fly?

Written last night:

I love to walk on Sundays; nobody much is around. You feel you own the town. It’s a good time to get to know a new city. I’m beginning to feel like my old self — able to explore on foot without pain. Also, I wanted to tire Zing out. It’s been a long time since we had those 4-mile runs in the woods. I think I succeeded -- Zing is fast asleep on a pillow next to mine. 

We got up at 6. As the sun was rising we walked down to the Capitol. No one was there. 

When we got home I made myself a hearty Sunday breakfast — potatoes and green onions and bacon and an egg. I’ve been eating kind of light, but not on Sundays!

I spent an hour or more reading the Times, or most of it, and then I took Zing out again for a long jaunt. (It was going to be short, but one thing led to the next.) We ended up crossing the Sacramento River on what I’ve been calling “the yellow bridge.” Up close it really is golden. Everything here is golden. Yellow with a shine. Then we went along the River Walk, which I’ve been told is lovely and also a good place to encounter homeless people. Yes, the first person I saw was asleep on the cement, with a backpack nearby and a grocery cart not far away. I wanted to walk where he was, because it led under the bridge, but decided against it. Yet, Sunday felt perfectly safe, and it was.

Not knowing what we’d find, Zing and I strolled the bank of the river, taking the low path close to the water. It's not the grasses and wide fields of our walks back at Phipps Park in Tallahassee. Rivers are so — narrow! This was the closest we’ve gotten to open country, a little broader in feel than Paradise Beach along the American River. It’s odd to feel constrained by Nature herself. (No offense, Mother Nature!) 

We encountered families and joggers, and eventually a food truck festival (“Off the Grid”), with chairs and even shady tents, free for anyone to use, overlooking the river. My friend Mona called, and I sat there in the shade facing the river, talking to her. On our way home Zing and I took a detour to what is called “Old Sac,” or “Old Town.” It’s a busy and fun clutch of restaurants and an old train and other links to the past — it seems a popular Sunday family spot. As we left, a woman approached me for directions. Luckily, her question was simple.

I determinedly don’t do much on Sunday, so I spent the rest of the afternoon puttering in my studio and putting books on the shelves in the big white living room. 

Time for another walk! (I did this one more for myself than to tire Zing out.) 

And who should we meet in front of our building but the dog who jumped off the 15th floor balcony and lived to tell about it. Clark and I heard the story when the realtor explained the reason for the mesh between our balcony railings. She told us that a couple of years ago a dog had slipped through and — unbelievably — landed in the hot tub. I believed her at first, but then we told a skeptical Patrick and Steph, and began ourselves to think the story a fiction, an urban legend. But no — this afternoon Zing was nuzzling up to a black dog on the sidewalk. His owner, Kyle, and I began to talk. The dog is blind, Kyle said, with cataracts.  Just before Christmas a couple of years ago, Sam (the dog) and Kyle were on their 15th floor balcony, and in a split-second when Kyle wasn’t looking, Sam slipped through an opening to the neighbor’s balcony and then pushed through the railings and fell, landing (one supposes) with a splash in the community hot tub, swam a couple laps around it, and then got out and collapsed, with several broken ribs. A neighbor on the eighth floor had seen him fly past the window. The neighbor rushed downstairs. Kyle did too. Sam survived, got interviewed by TV and newspaper and now walks around, a celebrity dog, a real-life urban legend.

So an uneventful Sunday was amazing after all.

Love,

k

Sam, the dog who flew

Zing

Almost home: from bleak to cozy

Written last night:

Today my condo feels kind of like home. Actually it is home, just not complete. I put the ukulele that Patrick painted for Clark and the clock that was a wedding gift to Clark’s grandparents on the new shelves, and maybe tomorrow I’ll add the books that are now heaped on the floor. Clock and ukulele and books too  are signs of life. Each reverberates in its own way. There’s Rig’s Asian art leaning against the woodwork, and Clark’s Tallahassee barn photograph and his photo of gorgeous graffiti (whose, Patrick?) nearby, waiting for my final OK.  

OK!

Not to mention flowers from the farmers market in a red vase, over by the window so you can see them reflected too.  Oh, and the TV, front and center. And the stained glass lamp Dad made for me is on the heavy trestle table that was Clark’s parents’. 

The place is warming up.

When I was describing my decor to Maria last night it sounded bleak: white and empty.  But today I see my condo is full of warmth and memories, just not quite “put together” yet. I am beginning to feel at home.

Zing and I walked a lot today: over to T Street,  where we came upon a small music festival in a park, with a young man riding his bicycle in backward circles in time to the music. The park is across the street from Our Lady of Guadalupe national shrine; up past the California Park Department office (which is in one of those old Victorian houses); and in the morning we went up to the Capitol, where we saw young people in fancy dress posing for photographs.

This morning I went to the Saturday farmers market, where the woman who pressed a free tomato on me last week gave me a bunch of grapes today. I’m eating them now; they’re smaller than grocery store fruit -- sweeter, tastier.   

This afternoon I found my way to a giant shopping area, with Walmart, Ikea, Home Depot and other big box stores. I only ran in to Walmart and out again (although Ikea called to me)). When I left the condo, I kind of knew it was very close to Zing’s walk time. “Wait for me!” I told him, and he seemed to nod OK. But when I got back an hour later, there was an anonymous note on my door that said, “Your dog barks a lot.” 

I had a talking to with Zing, and he told me I should respect his pee needs. 

I was feeling like a bad neighbor, but then we went for a walk and Zing was loved by everyone: a woman in a wheelchair; a retired minister walking his growling black dog; a young man who said his girlfriend loves dogs like Zing, and finally the woman who cuddled him on the elevator. When she got off she said to me, “Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even looked you in the eye! I love your dog!” 

“Yes,” I said. “So does everybody.”

Love,

k

Dinner, with conversation

Written last night:

Just came home from a lovely dinner with Keith and Maria. We ate outside under the flowers and vines at the Tower Restaurant. It’s Maria’s favorite, and fast becoming mine. Delicious food, perfect service, and they let us stay and talk and talk and talk. Most restaurants I know would kind of hover and wonder if you were going to ever leave. We were tossing ideas and memories and hopes back and forth and probably could have stayed longer … Thanks, Keith and Maria, for a lively evening!

Chris and Sandy -- educators -- you must be here soon! We were talking about kids’ obsession with technology and how we who are older just can’t understand it and how teachers  are under-appreciated and often talked-down to. Keith says you, Chris, engage teachers in give and take and of course respect their ideas and hands-on experience. I wonder what it all means, if indeed what we are saying today will matter a bit tomorrow. 

We also talked about moving and changing and paring back our possessions. Maria is tackling much the same as I’ve been doing recently, in her own way. 

It was a fun end to a tense, business-oriented day for me. I had been putting off a couple of daunting chores. For some things, I expect the worst, even when it is really unlikely. Every time I call a bank (today Capital City Bank in Tallahassee) or deal with car stuff (getting a smog test for Rosa — a requirement for California license plates), or work with the printer on something new (today it was scanning — I used to be able to do that, but aren’t things different in California?) my heart goes bumpy and I feel like a loser. The bank will laugh at my question; Rosa will fail the test (No, not Rosa!); the printer will go offline and never come back … I’m not easy with cars or banks or technology. Today I tried to put a new face on. Yay! I thought, I will of course pass the Smog test (Rosa did indeed pass); Yay! I get to talk to the bank. They love me because I am a peer — I know what I am talking about; and Yay! I get to make the printer do what it’s supposed to do: scan the documents as I command. 

And indeed these things happened today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Love,
k

On a food note: For lunch today I tested the chili I made yesterday. My eating habits are changing, of course. For the past three months I barely knew what was on the plate. And now I'm eating more simply -- it's not the same when you don't have someone to share your meals. So I have this faint notion of frozen chili packets and red beans that I cooked separately, to eat with the chili or some other way. I used this great recipe my friend Teresa gave me ages back. I never follow it exactly, but it is always delicious.
Teresa's chili recipe