Having been very busy packing, and packing and packing over the past six weeks or so, I've neglected to write anything about my most recent move. I moved to Jackson Heights two years ago to live "in the city," which in my heart really meant living in Manhattan.....and last Thursday I made it here! How cool is that?
And, here it is, 5 o'clockish in the AM, and I'm up reading my email. It sounds as if there's a party going on outside on Broadway.....not something I took into consideration when I signed the lease. Who are these people and why aren't they home sleeping?? I'm thinking "white noise machine."
The move went well, and yes, I'm still unpacking and hope to at least have to bulk of it done prior to going back to work on Tuesday. It was really a lot of work though and I've decided that my kids are going to have to help the next time I do this...but....I made it. A bit tired and sore, but here nonetheless. I'm getting too old to do this sort of stuff by myself though.
Other than the fact that I've rented an apartment on Broadway, which apparently is just a tad sketchy up this far, it's going fine. I had the very expensive second "top lock" installed on my door yesterday, which considering all the activity on Broadway, I'm now feeling happy to have gotten. I've come to the conclusion though that my personality is really more suited for "the other side of the cliff," the side that the Cloisters is located on. I suspect that's where I'll probably spend most of my time. It's quiet and so, so beautiful.
I was loving the apartment until around 10 last night, when I opened the refrigerator door and a roach crawled out of the rubber gasket around the inside of the door. I was so shocked to see it there that it crawled back in before I could kill it. I just stood there with the refrigerator open for about 10 minutes, not knowing what to do, until I just closed the damn door and hoped it would die of the cold. I had such a problem with them in the other place that it was one of the reasons I couldn't wait to move. I had actually stopped cooking because I hated being surprised by them. I know that they're a part of city living that you just can't get away from; however, not in a million years will I ever get used to them.
So, for now I will resume unpacking boxes, but first I think I'll get dressed and go for a walk up to the top of the cliff, where it's quiet and peaceful. It's nice to have quiet and peaceful so close by. I intend to take full advantage of it. It's the best of both worlds....having the excitement of city life, and tranquility within easy reach...both in spite of critters like roaches.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Moving.....again
Well, here it is, almost two years from when I last looked for an apartment here in the city (yes, I know Queens is not the city, but to non-city folk, it might as well be) and I'm almost ready to start doing it again. I really, really, want to move into Manhattan.....it's where I intuitively feel I belong. I might end up in Washington Heights, which is Manhattan, although in the upper reaches, but at least it's closer to where I want to be. Maybe one day I'll actually make it to where I want to be, who knows.
Right now I'm thinking about packing. I went out and bought packing tape and could conceivable start with books....but, I'm still thinking about it at the moment. Once the spirit moves me, I'll get going on it, but right now I'm practicing procrastination, which is something that I don't actually need to practice. I have that skill down pat.
Will keep you posted.............
Right now I'm thinking about packing. I went out and bought packing tape and could conceivable start with books....but, I'm still thinking about it at the moment. Once the spirit moves me, I'll get going on it, but right now I'm practicing procrastination, which is something that I don't actually need to practice. I have that skill down pat.
Will keep you posted.............
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Lost in transition
Published in the Long Island Advance, March 13, 2008
I continue to live with one foot tentatively in Jackson Heights and the other firmly planted in Patchogue, and it’s quite a stretch. Initially I was very homesick, and even anticipating being so, moving was much more difficult than I imagined. Then again, when one waits as long as I did to move away from home, there’s a lot of adjusting to do, especially when you consider that moving from the suburbs to the city has been, for me, like moving to a foreign country.
What I miss the most is the sun, the smell of salt in the air and the color green. Yes, there are trees on my block, however my apartment windows do not look out over them, and being on the fourth floor of a six story building means that even on a sunny day, it just barely glances across my windows, and only for about five minutes at sunrise. I can glimpse it from my kitchen window if I crane my neck almost out of it. It reminds me of those real estate ads that say “water view,” but don’t tell you that you can only see the water if you’re standing on your roof in the winter when there are no leaves on the trees.
My Queens neighborhood boasts three laundromats, four drug stores, seven restaurants, three bakeries, two banks, a few phone and clothing stores, coffee shops, including a Starbuck’s, Petland, Carvel, two McDonald’s, and a Burger King, all within in a several block radius, and yet I have this need to shop on Long Island for pretty much everything except groceries. It’s very inconvenient to have to carry multiple, and sometimes very heavy bags back to my apartment each Sunday evening. Getting home requires the train and the subway, and I feel as if I can now add the word “Sherpa” to my resume’. I’ve also found myself renting movies in Patchogue, watching them in Queens, and returning them the following weekend. Even I think that’s a bit ridiculous!
This past weekend I bought a rolling suitcase. I managed to stow away all my clothes, the laundry that I sometimes bring with me to do over the weekend, a package of four energy efficient light bulbs, a power strip, a small wreath for my bathroom wall, a package of plastic clothes hangers, and the perfume I bought in Ulta. It never occurred to me that I could have purchased almost all of those items in stores around the corner from my apartment. I have yet to venture to the Queens Mall or to find other of my favorite stores, probably because almost every weekend I’m here, on Long Island.
On one walk around my block you might hear Russian, Korean, Polish, Spanish or Farsi being spoken, and sometimes, even English, and on my way out to the street from the subway I regularly pass Peruvian musicians performing “music from the Andes.”
The sights, sounds and smells are so different that, for now, I am living in a foreign country, and I didn’t even need to apply for a passport to get here.
I think that as much as I love living in Queens, my head is still not there yet, or maybe it’s my heart that has yet to make the transition.
I continue to live with one foot tentatively in Jackson Heights and the other firmly planted in Patchogue, and it’s quite a stretch. Initially I was very homesick, and even anticipating being so, moving was much more difficult than I imagined. Then again, when one waits as long as I did to move away from home, there’s a lot of adjusting to do, especially when you consider that moving from the suburbs to the city has been, for me, like moving to a foreign country.
What I miss the most is the sun, the smell of salt in the air and the color green. Yes, there are trees on my block, however my apartment windows do not look out over them, and being on the fourth floor of a six story building means that even on a sunny day, it just barely glances across my windows, and only for about five minutes at sunrise. I can glimpse it from my kitchen window if I crane my neck almost out of it. It reminds me of those real estate ads that say “water view,” but don’t tell you that you can only see the water if you’re standing on your roof in the winter when there are no leaves on the trees.
My Queens neighborhood boasts three laundromats, four drug stores, seven restaurants, three bakeries, two banks, a few phone and clothing stores, coffee shops, including a Starbuck’s, Petland, Carvel, two McDonald’s, and a Burger King, all within in a several block radius, and yet I have this need to shop on Long Island for pretty much everything except groceries. It’s very inconvenient to have to carry multiple, and sometimes very heavy bags back to my apartment each Sunday evening. Getting home requires the train and the subway, and I feel as if I can now add the word “Sherpa” to my resume’. I’ve also found myself renting movies in Patchogue, watching them in Queens, and returning them the following weekend. Even I think that’s a bit ridiculous!
This past weekend I bought a rolling suitcase. I managed to stow away all my clothes, the laundry that I sometimes bring with me to do over the weekend, a package of four energy efficient light bulbs, a power strip, a small wreath for my bathroom wall, a package of plastic clothes hangers, and the perfume I bought in Ulta. It never occurred to me that I could have purchased almost all of those items in stores around the corner from my apartment. I have yet to venture to the Queens Mall or to find other of my favorite stores, probably because almost every weekend I’m here, on Long Island.
On one walk around my block you might hear Russian, Korean, Polish, Spanish or Farsi being spoken, and sometimes, even English, and on my way out to the street from the subway I regularly pass Peruvian musicians performing “music from the Andes.”
The sights, sounds and smells are so different that, for now, I am living in a foreign country, and I didn’t even need to apply for a passport to get here.
I think that as much as I love living in Queens, my head is still not there yet, or maybe it’s my heart that has yet to make the transition.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Moving day...almost
Published in the Long Island Advance, November 1, 2007
I’m at a loss for words right now, both written and spoken, and have spent far too much time putting off this particular piece of writing. By the time this column hits the paper, I will have moved! When originally asked a month ago if I could write two columns for Brian’s current vacation I figured sure, why not? And right now I am one short and all I can think about is everything there is left to do today, the day before the movers will arrive to carry all of my boxes out the door and drive them off to Jackson Heights -- that, and the fact that I have a column to write and I’m still procrastinating. According to my friend Ron, I have subconsciously calculated how much there is left to do, and know somewhere in the back of my head that I can get it all done in the time that remains. I hope he’s right. Since that made sense to me, I figured why not go out to dinner last night and spend quality time with one of my best friends, and leave even less time to finish what I need to get done. After all, I don’t want to be sitting around with nothing to do tomorrow at 8am while waiting for the movers to arrive. What fun would that be? My mother is often running around at the last minute when big things are happening and my father is usually sitting around, waiting for her to get her act together. I believe I might fall somewhere in the middle. So, off to dinner I went.
As a rule, my friend Kerm and I usually get together for breakfast once a month and when neither of us could come up with a Saturday morning on which to do so, he suggested dinner and I suggested the Main Street Café’. The Main Street Café’ has become one of my favorite places. I stumbled upon it by accident last year while looking for a place to go for coffee after the movies one Saturday night. I love this little restaurant. It’s quaint and cozy; the food is good and the people who work there are warm and friendly. Since I began commuting I haven’t had a lot of time to socialize, so I haven’t been there in a while, and when I have been, it’s usually just to order a salad to take out. Kerm was impressed with my choice of restaurant, and I thought it was cool that I was able to suggest somewhere he hadn’t ever been before.
While we were sitting there I lamented the fact that I still had so much left to do, including writing this column, and yet could not bring myself to feel the least bit guilty about being there. We had a glass of wine with dinner and at one point the owner came over to our table, introduced himself and bought us an after-dinner-drink. While we talked I mentioned that I was moving to Jackson Heights on Friday, and then thought to myself, “Oh my, I’m moving to Jackson Heights on Friday!” However, by that time I’d had a glass of wine and an after-dinner-drink, two alcoholic beverages more than I would normally have had in any given week, let alone in one evening. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to do much of anything after going home and I didn’t. I went to sleep instead.
So, here it is, the day before the move. I have no idea if I’m going to be able to get my cat in the cat carrier to move her, let alone find the cat carrier which appears to be missing, or how I’m going to have a manicure, get my hair highlighted, have my TB test (annually mandated by the world I work in) read, pack the rest of the boxes, and clean a little, all by 8am tomorrow morning. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think it’s all possible, so maybe I’ll start by going out to have a cup of coffee. The one thing I do know is that by the time you read this, my move will have been accomplished and I’ll be sitting on the floor in my apartment in Queens, debating what to do for furniture.
I’m at a loss for words right now, both written and spoken, and have spent far too much time putting off this particular piece of writing. By the time this column hits the paper, I will have moved! When originally asked a month ago if I could write two columns for Brian’s current vacation I figured sure, why not? And right now I am one short and all I can think about is everything there is left to do today, the day before the movers will arrive to carry all of my boxes out the door and drive them off to Jackson Heights -- that, and the fact that I have a column to write and I’m still procrastinating. According to my friend Ron, I have subconsciously calculated how much there is left to do, and know somewhere in the back of my head that I can get it all done in the time that remains. I hope he’s right. Since that made sense to me, I figured why not go out to dinner last night and spend quality time with one of my best friends, and leave even less time to finish what I need to get done. After all, I don’t want to be sitting around with nothing to do tomorrow at 8am while waiting for the movers to arrive. What fun would that be? My mother is often running around at the last minute when big things are happening and my father is usually sitting around, waiting for her to get her act together. I believe I might fall somewhere in the middle. So, off to dinner I went.
As a rule, my friend Kerm and I usually get together for breakfast once a month and when neither of us could come up with a Saturday morning on which to do so, he suggested dinner and I suggested the Main Street Café’. The Main Street Café’ has become one of my favorite places. I stumbled upon it by accident last year while looking for a place to go for coffee after the movies one Saturday night. I love this little restaurant. It’s quaint and cozy; the food is good and the people who work there are warm and friendly. Since I began commuting I haven’t had a lot of time to socialize, so I haven’t been there in a while, and when I have been, it’s usually just to order a salad to take out. Kerm was impressed with my choice of restaurant, and I thought it was cool that I was able to suggest somewhere he hadn’t ever been before.
While we were sitting there I lamented the fact that I still had so much left to do, including writing this column, and yet could not bring myself to feel the least bit guilty about being there. We had a glass of wine with dinner and at one point the owner came over to our table, introduced himself and bought us an after-dinner-drink. While we talked I mentioned that I was moving to Jackson Heights on Friday, and then thought to myself, “Oh my, I’m moving to Jackson Heights on Friday!” However, by that time I’d had a glass of wine and an after-dinner-drink, two alcoholic beverages more than I would normally have had in any given week, let alone in one evening. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to do much of anything after going home and I didn’t. I went to sleep instead.
So, here it is, the day before the move. I have no idea if I’m going to be able to get my cat in the cat carrier to move her, let alone find the cat carrier which appears to be missing, or how I’m going to have a manicure, get my hair highlighted, have my TB test (annually mandated by the world I work in) read, pack the rest of the boxes, and clean a little, all by 8am tomorrow morning. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think it’s all possible, so maybe I’ll start by going out to have a cup of coffee. The one thing I do know is that by the time you read this, my move will have been accomplished and I’ll be sitting on the floor in my apartment in Queens, debating what to do for furniture.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
The night after "moving day"
Email written to all my friends and supporters, : )
Hi everyone,
Well.........I've moved and it was quite an experience. I think I might have to live here forever, since I never want to do this again. The two gentlemen who came from the moving company were less than gregarious and somewhat annoyed that when they arrived in Jackson Heights, they had to keep moving the truck around the block to let traffic pass. At one point the police were out there, practically screaming at them to move the truck as they had traffic blocked all the way down the street. The one man looked at me as if it was my fault there's no parking in JH and the streets are narrow! They also weren't happy that there were too many doors that needed to be held open.
If I ever decided to move again, I don't want to be there when they do it. Some things are best done if you don't have to witness them.........like watching as a pile of boxes crashes down to the ground because the mover is trying to shove them all onto the elevator. Really...I didn't need to see that. It was at this point I was so very happy that I hadn't had Nick and his friends move my stuff in a U-Haul! OMG....that truly would have been a nightmare!
Today with Erin's help I made some progress getting the place livable. We shifted around boxes that I can't unpack as I have no where to put the stuff once I unpack it...however, those boxes are now in a variety of places, not in one big pile in the middle of the LR floor. We went to the grocery store...and more importantly to the liquor store as I needed to try out my wine glasses. Unfortunately, when the cable guy arrived to hook up my cable/phone and Internet, he couldn't because my building is not "cable ready" as was advertised. He needed to get into the basement, which was locked and the super was somewhere in Brooklyn.........and now I will be cable/phone and Internet-less until minimally, next Saturday.
Those of you who know me well, understand that I have a bit of an Internet addiction and this is causing me no small amount of anxiety. Hence, I really did need to try out the wine glasses. Tonight I'm at Erin's. We couldn't get my DVD player to work and my bed was piled with stuff...and at least here, I can feed my Internet addiction for a little while. I'll be able to check email at work, but not visit my favorite places, or incessantly read the news...all things I like to do. Tomorrow I'll move the cat....that should be fun....not. She's going to have far fewer places to hide then she's had in the past. I'd better leave her a spot under the bed to hide out in for when company comes to visit.
Well, that's it from me for tonight. It really is going to be a great apartment...and you are all invited to come and visit! I hope you're all well and will look forward to catching up again either from work, or when I ever get back on line.
Love,
~Susan~
Hi everyone,
Well.........I've moved and it was quite an experience. I think I might have to live here forever, since I never want to do this again. The two gentlemen who came from the moving company were less than gregarious and somewhat annoyed that when they arrived in Jackson Heights, they had to keep moving the truck around the block to let traffic pass. At one point the police were out there, practically screaming at them to move the truck as they had traffic blocked all the way down the street. The one man looked at me as if it was my fault there's no parking in JH and the streets are narrow! They also weren't happy that there were too many doors that needed to be held open.
If I ever decided to move again, I don't want to be there when they do it. Some things are best done if you don't have to witness them.........like watching as a pile of boxes crashes down to the ground because the mover is trying to shove them all onto the elevator. Really...I didn't need to see that. It was at this point I was so very happy that I hadn't had Nick and his friends move my stuff in a U-Haul! OMG....that truly would have been a nightmare!
Today with Erin's help I made some progress getting the place livable. We shifted around boxes that I can't unpack as I have no where to put the stuff once I unpack it...however, those boxes are now in a variety of places, not in one big pile in the middle of the LR floor. We went to the grocery store...and more importantly to the liquor store as I needed to try out my wine glasses. Unfortunately, when the cable guy arrived to hook up my cable/phone and Internet, he couldn't because my building is not "cable ready" as was advertised. He needed to get into the basement, which was locked and the super was somewhere in Brooklyn.........and now I will be cable/phone and Internet-less until minimally, next Saturday.
Those of you who know me well, understand that I have a bit of an Internet addiction and this is causing me no small amount of anxiety. Hence, I really did need to try out the wine glasses. Tonight I'm at Erin's. We couldn't get my DVD player to work and my bed was piled with stuff...and at least here, I can feed my Internet addiction for a little while. I'll be able to check email at work, but not visit my favorite places, or incessantly read the news...all things I like to do. Tomorrow I'll move the cat....that should be fun....not. She's going to have far fewer places to hide then she's had in the past. I'd better leave her a spot under the bed to hide out in for when company comes to visit.
Well, that's it from me for tonight. It really is going to be a great apartment...and you are all invited to come and visit! I hope you're all well and will look forward to catching up again either from work, or when I ever get back on line.
Love,
~Susan~
Friday, September 21, 2007
Beach scented perfume
Published in the Long Island Advance, September 20th
Last Sunday night was the one of those perfect evenings for walking. Almost fall like, it was cool and clear and the scents that perfumed the air overwhelmed me.
When walking outdoors, I have a few routes that I take that always lead me to the bay. Even on very cold winter days, that’s the direction I head, never north, always south, because I love the smell of the sea air.
On this particular evening as I started out toward the bay the first scent I noticed was that of a backyard fire place. I love the smell of fire places and used to have one in my yard. We would sit around it at night, drink coffee, talk with whoever showed up to sit and watch the fire burn, and listen to the Screech Owl that lived in the woods nearby.
Layered over top of the burning wood smell, was the scent of autumn clematis in full bloom. Growing vigorously throughout the summer, it blooms in a mass of tiny white flowers that perfume the air with a heady, sweet scent. This particular smell I recognized immediately, having planted this variety of clematis in my garden years ago and each summer, watching as it climbed its way up the side of my dining room window, with the scent of the tiny white flowers traveling into the house on the heels of the breeze that blew in through the open windows.
As I got closer to the bay, the scent of the sea air mingling with the others made me feel wistful, missing home before I have even left it. I love this smell, the smell of the bay and nearby ocean, that mixture of seaweed and salt, shells and suntan lotion. I have a “sun and sand” candle and a perfume called “Beach,” both of which if I close my eyes and breath in deeply, remind me of what it’s like to lie on the beach and listen to the surf roll onto shore, and watch the gulls as they glide on the ocean breezes.
As I continued my walk my son pulled up to the stop sign on the corner of Brook Street and Rider Ave. Having only seen him a short while before for dinner, it was amusing to run into him again so soon. Further up the road, I saw my father as he rode his bike across Rider, heading back home from his evening bike ride and one of my old neighbors as she cut her lawn. It’s odd to feel so excited about moving away and so sad about it too, sad to think about missing out on these every day encounters that for so long I have taken for granted.
My pile of boxes in the living room of my brother’s house is getting larger. I keep trying to keep in mind what he said when I was starting to say good-bye. (I’ve been starting to say good-bye in a variety of ways for a while now.) He reminded me that I’m moving to Queens, not California. I often use that line when talking about my move to other family members, like my 12 year old niece Regina, who I have also lived with for the past three years. We are making plans now for things she would like to do when she comes to visit me. This way, she too can be excited when I move, and not sad.
There’s a very good possibility that the next time I appear here, I will have written this column from an apartment in Jackson Heights. Hopefully I will be able to regal you with amusing tales and observations about how different life will become. I’m thinking that possibly I can get over the homesick part prior to actually leaving, at least that’s what I’m going to hope will happen. I’m feeling a bit dramatic about it all; you would think that I wasn’t planning to be back at least every other weekend. And in between, I can always turn out the lights, light my “sun and sand” candle, spray on my “Beach” perfume and close my eyes and breathe deeply.
(I can't believe I still have not posted my birthday column. Actually, I'm still working on it. )
Last Sunday night was the one of those perfect evenings for walking. Almost fall like, it was cool and clear and the scents that perfumed the air overwhelmed me.
When walking outdoors, I have a few routes that I take that always lead me to the bay. Even on very cold winter days, that’s the direction I head, never north, always south, because I love the smell of the sea air.
On this particular evening as I started out toward the bay the first scent I noticed was that of a backyard fire place. I love the smell of fire places and used to have one in my yard. We would sit around it at night, drink coffee, talk with whoever showed up to sit and watch the fire burn, and listen to the Screech Owl that lived in the woods nearby.
Layered over top of the burning wood smell, was the scent of autumn clematis in full bloom. Growing vigorously throughout the summer, it blooms in a mass of tiny white flowers that perfume the air with a heady, sweet scent. This particular smell I recognized immediately, having planted this variety of clematis in my garden years ago and each summer, watching as it climbed its way up the side of my dining room window, with the scent of the tiny white flowers traveling into the house on the heels of the breeze that blew in through the open windows.
As I got closer to the bay, the scent of the sea air mingling with the others made me feel wistful, missing home before I have even left it. I love this smell, the smell of the bay and nearby ocean, that mixture of seaweed and salt, shells and suntan lotion. I have a “sun and sand” candle and a perfume called “Beach,” both of which if I close my eyes and breath in deeply, remind me of what it’s like to lie on the beach and listen to the surf roll onto shore, and watch the gulls as they glide on the ocean breezes.
As I continued my walk my son pulled up to the stop sign on the corner of Brook Street and Rider Ave. Having only seen him a short while before for dinner, it was amusing to run into him again so soon. Further up the road, I saw my father as he rode his bike across Rider, heading back home from his evening bike ride and one of my old neighbors as she cut her lawn. It’s odd to feel so excited about moving away and so sad about it too, sad to think about missing out on these every day encounters that for so long I have taken for granted.
My pile of boxes in the living room of my brother’s house is getting larger. I keep trying to keep in mind what he said when I was starting to say good-bye. (I’ve been starting to say good-bye in a variety of ways for a while now.) He reminded me that I’m moving to Queens, not California. I often use that line when talking about my move to other family members, like my 12 year old niece Regina, who I have also lived with for the past three years. We are making plans now for things she would like to do when she comes to visit me. This way, she too can be excited when I move, and not sad.
There’s a very good possibility that the next time I appear here, I will have written this column from an apartment in Jackson Heights. Hopefully I will be able to regal you with amusing tales and observations about how different life will become. I’m thinking that possibly I can get over the homesick part prior to actually leaving, at least that’s what I’m going to hope will happen. I’m feeling a bit dramatic about it all; you would think that I wasn’t planning to be back at least every other weekend. And in between, I can always turn out the lights, light my “sun and sand” candle, spray on my “Beach” perfume and close my eyes and breathe deeply.
(I can't believe I still have not posted my birthday column. Actually, I'm still working on it. )
Thursday, September 06, 2007
A new chapter begins
Published in the Long Island Advance
September 6, 2007
I’m back again, sitting in Brian’s chair and trying to come up with a plausible reason why I do this. Why I write these guest columns where the letter “I” shows up way too many times. It might have to do with the fact that I’m a social worker by nature, if not by degree. I process my life, and the lives of those I know in words, thoughts and feelings. I started out writing for myself as a means to see in a concrete way where I was coming from, and going too, and I have come to share this journey in a very public way with those of you who read what I write.
When setting out on this journey to create a new life, my decision was to make it as big and bold as it could be, and my hope was that others might see themselves reflected here as well. And, at this very moment I’ve come to the end of a chapter….and a new one is beginning.
While sitting in a friend’s kitchen in Greenwich Village one day last week I wondered out loud how I came to be at this point in my life and how it happened so fast. Not actually sitting in his kitchen, I know how I came to be there, but how I’ve reached the point where I’m on the cusp of accomplishing the last of three very large goals I set for myself two years ago.
Twenty-nine years ago I left my parents home to get married. Three years ago I left that home due to circumstances that so often happen in our lives, prompting us to choose different paths to follow. Three years ago I could never have envisioned this new life that’s unfolding in front of me.
When I was 5 or 6, I can distinctly remember looking out the window of our yellow, wood paneled station wagon as we drove through midtown Manhattan on our way to visit my grandparents in Pennsylvania, and telling my parents that one day I wanted to live in Manhattan. The sights, the sounds, the “bigness” of it all were so very appealing to me and for a number of years that was the vision I carried around in my head. Somewhere along the way I think I became afraid, afraid of living my life and my sister took over that dream and made it her own, at least for a little while. My fear was unconscious and my vision became buried somewhere deep inside of me, until it was surprisingly set free by life circumstances. Now that it’s taken flight, there’s no telling where it will end up…this vision of mine.
Today is September 6th and I am about to contact a realtor to begin apartment hunting in Queens. It may not be Manhattan, but it’s darn close. Not only will I be looking for a home of my own, I will be looking for it in the place I so long ago felt drawn to. It’s both exciting and frightening to teeter on the rim of this precipice.
As I stand here at the edge of a new beginning, I wonder about the journeys that others of you have taken, the steps and missteps, the laughter, and the tears that you shed along the way. As an observer and one who always has an opinion, I would love to hear your stories and continue to share mine with you, no matter how infrequently I can be found sitting in Brian’s chair. Yes, I write from a woman’s perspective, yet that is not the only point I can see from. If you would like to share any of your stories with me, please feel free. I’m going apartment hunting now, but….I’ll be back.
September 6, 2007
I’m back again, sitting in Brian’s chair and trying to come up with a plausible reason why I do this. Why I write these guest columns where the letter “I” shows up way too many times. It might have to do with the fact that I’m a social worker by nature, if not by degree. I process my life, and the lives of those I know in words, thoughts and feelings. I started out writing for myself as a means to see in a concrete way where I was coming from, and going too, and I have come to share this journey in a very public way with those of you who read what I write.
When setting out on this journey to create a new life, my decision was to make it as big and bold as it could be, and my hope was that others might see themselves reflected here as well. And, at this very moment I’ve come to the end of a chapter….and a new one is beginning.
While sitting in a friend’s kitchen in Greenwich Village one day last week I wondered out loud how I came to be at this point in my life and how it happened so fast. Not actually sitting in his kitchen, I know how I came to be there, but how I’ve reached the point where I’m on the cusp of accomplishing the last of three very large goals I set for myself two years ago.
Twenty-nine years ago I left my parents home to get married. Three years ago I left that home due to circumstances that so often happen in our lives, prompting us to choose different paths to follow. Three years ago I could never have envisioned this new life that’s unfolding in front of me.
When I was 5 or 6, I can distinctly remember looking out the window of our yellow, wood paneled station wagon as we drove through midtown Manhattan on our way to visit my grandparents in Pennsylvania, and telling my parents that one day I wanted to live in Manhattan. The sights, the sounds, the “bigness” of it all were so very appealing to me and for a number of years that was the vision I carried around in my head. Somewhere along the way I think I became afraid, afraid of living my life and my sister took over that dream and made it her own, at least for a little while. My fear was unconscious and my vision became buried somewhere deep inside of me, until it was surprisingly set free by life circumstances. Now that it’s taken flight, there’s no telling where it will end up…this vision of mine.
Today is September 6th and I am about to contact a realtor to begin apartment hunting in Queens. It may not be Manhattan, but it’s darn close. Not only will I be looking for a home of my own, I will be looking for it in the place I so long ago felt drawn to. It’s both exciting and frightening to teeter on the rim of this precipice.
As I stand here at the edge of a new beginning, I wonder about the journeys that others of you have taken, the steps and missteps, the laughter, and the tears that you shed along the way. As an observer and one who always has an opinion, I would love to hear your stories and continue to share mine with you, no matter how infrequently I can be found sitting in Brian’s chair. Yes, I write from a woman’s perspective, yet that is not the only point I can see from. If you would like to share any of your stories with me, please feel free. I’m going apartment hunting now, but….I’ll be back.
Friday, July 27, 2007
To U-Haul or not
Published in The Long Island Advance
July 26, 2007
As many of you know, I’m planning a move to Queens in the fall. Anticipating this I’ve begun to pack boxes. I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but boy, do I have a lot of boxes. They sit in closets or the spare rooms on the third floor of the house I’m living in, just waiting for me to carry them down three flights of stairs and out the door.
Initially when thinking about moving my thoughts were, “no big deal,” it’s just a bunch of boxes and some minor furnishings, figuring a U-Haul, my son Nick, and one or two of his friends and maybe a few pizzas’ and my move would be accomplished. My daughter, Erin, I suspect will be more like a “box unpacker” as like her mother, carrying heavy objects is not our thing.
In my mind my move was all figured out using a U-Haul and the man-woman power of my children. That was until I helped move Erin to Astoria a few weeks ago. It didn’t take long for me to decide that hiring professional movers was a much better idea. Twenty (well, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but it felt like twenty) trips later, up three flights of stairs each time, and I was convinced of it.
The day of Erin’s move she and I drove to Queens early, my car packed with bags and boxes, wine glasses, a full length mirror, her laptop and TV. First we had to stop in Forest Hills to pick up the key from her new roommate. Of course the Map Quest directions were not quite accurate and not being familiar with the area, we drove around, and around, and around, until we eventually ended up in the general vicinity of where her roommate works and the elusive apartment keys. I finally found myself parked in front of a fire hydrant outside a church with the word “martyr” in the name. “Ah, the perfect spot,” I thought to myself.
Miraculously, we made it from Forest Hills to Astoria using directions provided to us by people who do not drive. Need I say more?
After my car was finally emptied, we had time to kill while waiting for her father to arrive with the U-Haul and her cousin and uncle, all there to be the furniture movers. In between we went looking for a mattress pad on Steinway Street and found ourselves in a linen store. As I walked in, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath saying to Erin, “I can’t believe it! We’re in the old Swezey’s linen store!” I was so excited to be there that I stopped thinking about my twenty trips up and down the three flights of stairs, and those that were yet to come.
The U-Haul was a drama unto itself. Even though I wasn’t actually driving it, I felt like I was, after all, this was a collective experience. Where were we going to park it? Where did we have to go to return it? When we couldn’t find the place to return it, what way were we going to drive to get it back to were it was picked up, since you can’t drive them on parkways? One mini U-Haul nightmare after another, found me making calls the next day for estimates from professional movers.
When she heard this, my mother’s first words were “We used to move your sister all the time and we never used movers.” I think she’s forgetting that was over twenty years ago and we’re all that much older now. Personally, I’m done with physical labor. I want someone to carry out my boxes, drive them to where I’m going, carry them in and leave me sitting on the floor in my new living room, unpacking them.
July 26, 2007
As many of you know, I’m planning a move to Queens in the fall. Anticipating this I’ve begun to pack boxes. I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but boy, do I have a lot of boxes. They sit in closets or the spare rooms on the third floor of the house I’m living in, just waiting for me to carry them down three flights of stairs and out the door.
Initially when thinking about moving my thoughts were, “no big deal,” it’s just a bunch of boxes and some minor furnishings, figuring a U-Haul, my son Nick, and one or two of his friends and maybe a few pizzas’ and my move would be accomplished. My daughter, Erin, I suspect will be more like a “box unpacker” as like her mother, carrying heavy objects is not our thing.
In my mind my move was all figured out using a U-Haul and the man-woman power of my children. That was until I helped move Erin to Astoria a few weeks ago. It didn’t take long for me to decide that hiring professional movers was a much better idea. Twenty (well, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but it felt like twenty) trips later, up three flights of stairs each time, and I was convinced of it.
The day of Erin’s move she and I drove to Queens early, my car packed with bags and boxes, wine glasses, a full length mirror, her laptop and TV. First we had to stop in Forest Hills to pick up the key from her new roommate. Of course the Map Quest directions were not quite accurate and not being familiar with the area, we drove around, and around, and around, until we eventually ended up in the general vicinity of where her roommate works and the elusive apartment keys. I finally found myself parked in front of a fire hydrant outside a church with the word “martyr” in the name. “Ah, the perfect spot,” I thought to myself.
Miraculously, we made it from Forest Hills to Astoria using directions provided to us by people who do not drive. Need I say more?
After my car was finally emptied, we had time to kill while waiting for her father to arrive with the U-Haul and her cousin and uncle, all there to be the furniture movers. In between we went looking for a mattress pad on Steinway Street and found ourselves in a linen store. As I walked in, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath saying to Erin, “I can’t believe it! We’re in the old Swezey’s linen store!” I was so excited to be there that I stopped thinking about my twenty trips up and down the three flights of stairs, and those that were yet to come.
The U-Haul was a drama unto itself. Even though I wasn’t actually driving it, I felt like I was, after all, this was a collective experience. Where were we going to park it? Where did we have to go to return it? When we couldn’t find the place to return it, what way were we going to drive to get it back to were it was picked up, since you can’t drive them on parkways? One mini U-Haul nightmare after another, found me making calls the next day for estimates from professional movers.
When she heard this, my mother’s first words were “We used to move your sister all the time and we never used movers.” I think she’s forgetting that was over twenty years ago and we’re all that much older now. Personally, I’m done with physical labor. I want someone to carry out my boxes, drive them to where I’m going, carry them in and leave me sitting on the floor in my new living room, unpacking them.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Stepping off a cliff
I cannot freakin’ breathe. On my way home from work tonight I called everyone I know (well, not everyone), looking for someone who could talk me down from the edge of this cliff I feel like I’m standing on.
There are two more days left at my current job. And, tomorrow really doesn’t count since it’s almost tomorrow, and since there’s a meeting in the morning and then I suspect, a much larger “good-bye” lunch than I’ll be comfortable with. So, really….it’s more like one more day left.
How did I get here?! Must have been that whole “putting one barefoot in front of the other” thing I was doing. Now I’m looking over the edge of the precipice and feeling like I’m on that “Sky Walk” that’s hanging out from the edge of the Grand Canyon. Not something I would enjoy doing. I don’t like standing too close to the edge, unless there’s a man involved.
Tuesday morning I’ll be on the 7:17 train to Jamaica. I’m leaving a job I’ve done for 14 years to take one that I have no experience with, although thankfully I was not foolish enough to leave my current nonprofit work world. I did come to realize that this particular nonprofit world is a good fit for me, and I really don’t think I have the personality to work in the “for profit” world anyway.
Moving to a more urban area is more profitable in the nonprofit world, if that makes any sense. And it looks like that’s exactly what I’m doing, starting a new job in Queens next Tuesday, with a move to follow. Stepping off a cliff, or if I want to be just a little less dramatic, walking through a new open door, into a world that’s the same, yet different.
I’ve written and now I’ll walk. It’s time’s like these that I wish I were a runner. I would be forced to breathe then……
There are two more days left at my current job. And, tomorrow really doesn’t count since it’s almost tomorrow, and since there’s a meeting in the morning and then I suspect, a much larger “good-bye” lunch than I’ll be comfortable with. So, really….it’s more like one more day left.
How did I get here?! Must have been that whole “putting one barefoot in front of the other” thing I was doing. Now I’m looking over the edge of the precipice and feeling like I’m on that “Sky Walk” that’s hanging out from the edge of the Grand Canyon. Not something I would enjoy doing. I don’t like standing too close to the edge, unless there’s a man involved.
Tuesday morning I’ll be on the 7:17 train to Jamaica. I’m leaving a job I’ve done for 14 years to take one that I have no experience with, although thankfully I was not foolish enough to leave my current nonprofit work world. I did come to realize that this particular nonprofit world is a good fit for me, and I really don’t think I have the personality to work in the “for profit” world anyway.
Moving to a more urban area is more profitable in the nonprofit world, if that makes any sense. And it looks like that’s exactly what I’m doing, starting a new job in Queens next Tuesday, with a move to follow. Stepping off a cliff, or if I want to be just a little less dramatic, walking through a new open door, into a world that’s the same, yet different.
I’ve written and now I’ll walk. It’s time’s like these that I wish I were a runner. I would be forced to breathe then……
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