Zing and I look up

Written last night:

I’m lounging in Clark’s leather chair in the “big room” of my condo: living/dining/kitchen/workroom.  Books on the floor to my right and my left, are waiting for shelves. The TV is on the floor too. Tomorrow its stand arrives. Poco a poco (bit by bit, as they say in Miami), things are coming together comfortably. Besides, I’m getting used to the mess.

Over there on the big table that came from Clark’s parents I have all the financial stuff spread out. There’s still more to do!!! I spent well into this afternoon bird-dogging stuff and numbers. 

As I worked the phone rang. It was Best Buy. Naturally, a problem. No washer-dryer for me Thursday. Maybe sometime in October. I shrug it off.

Earlier, about 7 this morning,  Zing and I were walking along N Street,  and I paused and looked up. Above me a canopy of little leaves was shimmering on a big tree. You know how that is -- sometimes a tree feels like its breathing.  Through the leaves I could see the light blue morning. For some reason, Zing stopped there on the sidewalk and looked up too. (He must have seen a squirrel.) Something about that moment was so beautiful that I gasped. (Really, it is an ordinary tree.) I was suffused with well-being, as if Clark were hugging me again. Normally, as you must know by now, I expect the worst. But moments like this keep happening — insisting I am surrounded, like the tree, by love,  with nothing to fear. 

Then late this afternoon I walked to the train station, and bought tickets to San Francisco for Friday morning. I asked the saleswoman how many people go on the  trains. “Hundreds,” she said. “Hundreds on each train.” Clark would love to be here where mass transit has some traction.  

On my way back I stopped at Macy’s, which is adjacent to the new Golden 1 arena. Although there’s hope for a shopping-eating-drinking center here soon, Macy’s today reminded me of the time when I was a kid shopping with Mom and my brothers at JC Penney in Steubenville, Ohio. We were in a dressing room. The boys were trying on school pants. All at once we heard people running. Mom peeked out and someone yelled at her, “The roof is falling!” so we ran out too. Macy’s today felt kind of like that -- something could collapse any minute. Depressing. I hope the store blossoms before it falls in on itself. 

Just outside Macy’s door I decided to walk the rest of the way smoothly, elegantly, no matter how my leg feels. I took two steps, feeling purposeful, and someone asked me for directions to J Street. I must have looked like I knew the answer! And I did.

Mural at the train station celebrates Sacramento groundbreaking of the first transcontinental railroad

New normal: not so grumpy

Written last night:

I’ve been feeling slightly normal, so today I did what a normal person does on Labor Day: relax.

Zing and I went for long, uneventful walks — to Capitol Park and later to the Amtrak station. The Capitol is 10 short, shady blocks down (up?) N Street — to 15th Street. We walked back on L Street; bits of it are slightly seedier than N, but safe. In between shabby brick office buildings are shiny new ones and re-habs and even a loft or two — signs of Sacramento's rejuvenation brought on by the new arena and hope in general.

Later we channeled Clark and checked out the Amtrak station, past Macy’s (I must have been near dead myself to miss Macy’s, two blocks from here!), through a gracious, dusty Chinese apartment and social complex, and over near the freeway entrance. It took about 25 minutes each way, but that’s because I’m going slow. It’s really pretty close. Zing wasn’t allowed inside the station, but outside it was almost bustling. I’m going to take Amtrak to San Francisco Friday, so of course I’m imagining I’ll get on the wrong train and then also miss the connection to BART leading to the Embarcadero. I’m going back to Amtrak for tickets tomorrow — without Zing, so I can get inside.

Today I realized how tender and grumpy I’ve been. Things like getting a train ticket would normally be rather simple, wouldn’t they? After Clark died they were insurmountable, an insult. Impossible. For three months I’ve been barely up to the demands of everyday life. Oh, I’ve been doing it, and I’m glad for the challenge, but I do feel put upon when problems arise. Like today, when I was changing the Amazon account, there was a glitch; I need a new email. I must set up with Gmail, just for Amazon. Which made me grumpy. I’m not sure, but it seems I wasn’t always this way. Adjusting to death is enough of a burden without adding a new email address. That’s what it feels like. But then I could say after death everything else is easy. Except it isn’t.

Not to end in a sad way —  I’m coming out of my burrow and seeing the sun.

Sacramento Amtrak station

Is Zing even a Catholic?

Written last night:

I wasn’t aware how good my knee felt or how far Zing and I had walked this morning until we got there — to the place near the courthouse and the jail, where the bail bonds offices are open, even early Sunday morning -- the place where Patrick warned me not to go. It’s really not far. It’s actually near the Turner office where I took my photo, but then, on a busy weekday afternoon, it was alive. This morning it was drowsy. 

Someone was sleeping in the doorways or packing up as we passed by. I felt safe all along, but wary. As we got closer to the river we saw some guards for the construction area, and then people like me, walking their dogs on Sunday. “Hello,” I said. 

It’s why I love to run across bridges — walking a place, touching it with my feet, makes me feel like I’m really there. So today Zing and I know J Street down to the river. Really, I was looking for the Cathedral.

Later, I fried an egg, read the NYTimes, and exchanged messages with Mary Kaye about various ways to get to San Francisco: BART, ferry, bus, Amtrak ,,. They all seem scary to me the first time. I might try one tomorrow, just as a dry run. Clark and I had planned to get to San Francisco often, and I think he sent Mary Kaye and Susan — two friends who want to meet me there at different times this month — to goad me along. Clark would have had fun arranging such trips, while to me they are as challenging as a voyage to the South Pole. Wish me luck!

Also today I spent too many hours at Home Depot, getting a stationary pan for the new washer. And what is a stationary pan, you ask? Be glad I won’t go on … 

Before that I went to Mass at St. Francis church, more for comfort than for certainty. I’ve decided not to think too much. It’s a “churchy” church, as Mom would have said, full of statues and depictions of suffering along the walls. As I was going to communion I felt a hot breath at my knee. It was a big white dog leading a blind man. The dog was in a persistent hurry, so I stepped aside and let them go first. I didn’t notice, but I assume the dog got a blessing — very much in the spirit of St. Francis. Zing would probably pee at every pew on his way up the aisle.  But then, Zing himself is a blessing.

Have a happy Labor Day!

Love,
k

Moving toward normal with a purple couch

Written last night:

Zing and I just came in from sitting on the balcony in the cool evening. It’s the first time we’ve done that — relaxed in the dark, hearing the night noises of the city. My world is stretching out. Not very long back I could hardly leave the hotel room. Then I began hopping around short distances to get coffee and pizza. Then I moved into the condo and felt confined by the mess of stuff yet to be put away. Now some of it is where it belongs and the kitchen is full of friendly appliances. My bank account and credit cards are shifting to the west coast. Zing is learning to pee on command. 

There’s more to be done: California driver’s license and auto registration! (Something in me believes I’ll never pass the test, forget the important papers, and be a failure. Got to get over that! It reminds me of the way some kids are terrified to take tests in school.)

But I am getting settled. Yesterday I took my photo reflected in the Turner Golden One office management window. Clark would approve! 

Today was for chores — a routine Saturday — Grocery, office and art supplies, pet supermarket (where I returned the pee carpet I bought for Zing to use on the balcony instead of morning walks. Turns out we prefer the walks.)

You know I’ve wanted a purple couch since I was a young adult — I had this romantic notion of guests and family snuggling in its pillows in the corner of a kitchen-living room, talking to me while I cooked.  It was a fantasy, not clear-cut. Not long ago I mentioned this to Clark. “You will have a purple couch!” he said to me firmly, not laughing at all. I was taken aback, since it was more dream than desire. “Oh, my!” I said, “You really do love me, don’t you?” I never dreamed he would think well of such a distinctive piece. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it in real life. “Of course I love you!” Clark said, and he hugged me, and I knew, yes, I would have a purple couch.

Unaware, of course, that he would die so soon, we decided to get the couch when we moved into the condo. But after I got here alone I hesitated to order it, wary of my unsettled state. I told Patrice and Mary I thought it might be a “crazy lady purple couch,” bought by an overwrought woman. I considered a gray couch with purple velvet pillows, and that made me nauseous. I really, really, want a purple velvet couch. My sisters, my style icons, stood by me. “Buy it!” they said. So today I ordered it, and wouldn’t you know, in the catalog the color is not called purple but eggplant... Aubergine. Not crazy at all. I can’t wait until mid-November, when it will be delivered! Kind of like a birthday-Christmas present from Clark, and a sign of his love. 

Love,

k

Testing the water, the numbers, and the traffic

Written last night:

First thing this morning I called the plumber who works this building so he could attach my refrigerator water line. “We can do it, but you might have to go through the HOA,” he said. "We might have to turn off the water for the whole building.” 
“Sh**!” I said, imagining the long process that would be. 
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll check. Don’t get excited.”
Turns out it was completed in an hour. Thank you, plumber! 

Earlier, I had a great talk with Lori, my Panacea, FL, friend, who has a house on stilts by the water. The place was caught in the path of the hurricane Hermine, but Lori headed off to work this morning. It is stunning how people carry on!

For days American Express has been asking for my Personal Identification Key, but I didn’t know it. I made the  four-figure key back when I was crazier than today, and it has been eluding me ever since. Over the last two weeks I’ve tried combinations that Clark and I were likely to choose, with no luck. Today, I was frustrated and growling at the service person on the phone. We hung up, and suddenly it came to me: a  numerical combination personal to me. I tried it and it worked! I was relieved, but also aghast: that number combo is distinctly mine and not Clark’s at all. I had been trying numbers of meaning to both of us together. My independent number worked, leaving me breathless and unwilling to use it. 

To end the day I headed out to Best Buy at 4 p.m., when everyone says don’t. I was testing the rush hour traffic (It’s real) and also my ability to get around in this new town. I mean, everyone else is out during rush hour, so why not me? Uhhh. Because I don’t have to… By 4:45 cars in the streets of midtown were creeping. Finally, almost home, I cruised Safeway grocery parking lot for a space, so I could buy dinner. At that hour you have to haunt the place, back and forth, furtively, like a bad angel; all the spaces are taken. I left without stopping, and when I got home I smashed an avocado with little yellow tomatoes and fried bread and cheese. Who needs more?

Love,
k

Even the night has light

Written last night:

Today I verified my address to the woman arranging shipment of a TV stand (Yay! But now I have to learn how to turn on the TV),  and when I said twelfth floor, she said, “Wow! That’s so high!” It seemed a kind of mystery to her, living above the street. I understand. When I moved from Tallahassee I wondered how I’d survive without the ground-level chirping of birds to wake me and the hummingbirds in the red vines, and the monarchs gliding around the butterfly bush. What creature will fly up to delight me, I wondered. Crows? Buzzards? Bats?

That creature, I’ve discovered, is light itself. The view from my balcony is great, looking right and looking left, but I’ve gotten even more enchanted by the way the whole space outside my windows carries colors in the air. Pinks, blues, golds — even the black night that I see now. All at once I understand people who walk on tightropes between tall buildings, and how da Vinci and then the Wright brothers got the notion people might fly. The lure of light is indescribable, and the space outside my windows is a simple, unexpected delight.. The light makes me never want to lower my shades again.

(Speaking of shades, I haven’t ordered any yet. It’s on the to-do list!)

I showed up again today at the Thursday farmers market that’s only a block away. I bought the last honeydew-cantaloupe melon, just as a well-dressed woman next to me decided she also wanted one. “I’ll be back earlier next week!” she laughed. “I’ve got to beat you to it!” It was a congenial break in the day — easy to share a conversation and a laugh. I also visited, but haven't yet bought anything, from the wine booth. “These are table wines,” said the vintner, lovingly pouring little samples from a jug — literally a jug — of white wine. “It contains almost three bottles,” she said. 

I should have bought it! Could have used it this afternoon, to lighten the tedium of more phone calls, mistakes, and a visit from Best Buy installers, who told me I need a plumber before I can have water and ice from the refrigerator. Seems the connection is too old, not up to code. Well, at least I know. 

And dinner, leisurely, with Stephanie and Patrick at the crepe place near their home. Loved being with them.

Heard from Tallahassee friends. Electricity is out all around my old home city now, and they’re concerned about falling limbs and flooding. They're hunkering down to high wind, rising water, and a dark night. 

Love,
k

Farmers market 

My Sacramento ticket

Written last night:

Today I got a parking ticket, and for some perverse reason it made me happy; I belong! 

I was meeting a new friend for lunch and was amazed to find free two-hour on-street parking nearby. Turns out on Wednesdays, no,  you can’t park there, because they’re cleaning the street, or want to. I read the notice, but didn’t think it was Wednesday. (My feet are not completely on the ground yet.) It was any day but Wednesday! It was also a $45 lesson in belonging.  

Zing and I have been going farther on our early morning walks. The last few days we’ve headed two blocks from our place to watch the new Arena (The Golden One Center)  that is under construction. It’s like we live two blocks from where they’re building the pyramids.  Clark was thrilled to be so close to this — he loved the prospect of walking to basketball games (it is basketball, isn’t it?) with his kids , and he loved the way the arena would prove a catalyst to Sacramento’s economic and social life, and he also loved that it is a Turner Construction project. By the time Zing and I get there around 7 —  maybe earlier — men in hard hats are already pushing wheelbarrows and screaming orders and obscenities at each other. A few business people are rushing to work along the sidewalk, but mostly it’s free for a dog and a woman to stop and gaze and feel the energy/ hear the clang. 

Patrice called yesterday and left a hilarious phone message about ventless dryers, so when I drove to Best Buy this afternoon to order a vent-less dryer, I was in a pretty good mood. (There’s a spaghetti bowl of freeways to maneuver, but the trip itself takes less than 15 minutes.) A week from tomorrow, after the special dryer arrives with its sister, the stackable washer,  I may not have anything more to complain about! (Do you think?) In this process, I’ve learned that some new dryers have a steam detail to eliminate wrinkles. I’ll let you know how it works.

 I’ve been doing paperwork in between. Checked off a couple more items today. 

To end the day, at 6 I tried that yoga class downstairs again. There were only four of us, plus ML, the teacher. We all put our mats on the floor in the shape of a daisy.  If students have health issues, or can’t bend, or have a stiff knee, ML makes comfortable changes. I thought I wouldn’t like this, because it’s not vigorous, but I think I’ve changed my mind! I’m learning how to breathe!

Love,

k

I love how the arena's slanted walls reflect the sky