The Last Lunch

A wonderful lunch took place on my last real day in Florida. (I spent some time there after, but it was well...a bit unreal...) It was totally fun to be surrounded by people I really like. I hope you can see the gift from Darla who had...well I can't tell you the whole story, but trust me, the gift is priceless (and it only cost $1 at Noah's Ark Thrift Store) and the reason behind it is even better...

too bad I look so tired...

I survived moving!...well most of it.

I guess I have been talking about moving for so long that people assumed it was a done deal. It ain't so. I just can't do things fast I guess. Or I think I can't so I prolong them and then it drives me bats.

I packed for much of the month of May. My plan was to hire movers and do this like a grown-up and move at the end of June. A family friend in the business said that the end of June is the busiest time so rates are high and service isn't at its best, so I did what I always do--I did it myself. Well, I did hire two guys on this end to help load and one guy on the other to unload and that was a good thing. It actually all worked out remarkably well and I am relieved to be mostly moved before I go to California for a conference, lots of visits with friends and the 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic.

The guys I hired on this end were supposed to show up at 11 and when I called to confirm that on the morning of, the fellow said, "You were booked to move today? I thought you were just checking to see if I was available." Sigh. Well, he said he'd see what he could do and called back to say he'd be there mid-day then called mid-day to say he'd be here at 3:30 and then when he called at 3:30, he said it would be more like 5, all of this with plenty of excuses and suggestions that he was having a worse day than I was. He and his pal showed up at 5:17 and were done before 5:55 ('course, meanwhile, I had moved all the boxes to the garage so I wound up doing more than i had expected but it all worked out in the long run and as Gini pointed out, in the big picture, it will be a very minor blip).

I drove the 16' moving van up Highway 75, through Macon and Athens to 85 to Greenville SC (driving through parts of Greenville on a Friday evening is not recommended, in my humble opinion) and on up to North Carolina. It took about 15 hours and other than the frightening price of gas, it was painless. OK, I almost squished myself into a concrete barrier but other than that, it was pretty painless.

The following day I unloaded some stuff, ran some errands, and felt more tired than I have felt since our week of work in New Orleans. The day after that, a very handsome young man came by to unload the heavy stuff. He was great. And now, the bulk of my belongings are happily contained at a new location. Amazing.

The learning curve at this new home with a well, a propane tank, a septic system and oh there must be other stuff, is a bit steep right now. I have gas in the tank, but it isn't coming into the house. There must be a lever I need to pull but who knows where—and making coffee on the camp stove was kinda fun. I have been battling it out with an array of service providers to get phone, TV and internet and haven't successfully completed that task. I was supposed to have a phone last Monday but they lost the order. Don't ask. It's really bizarre. OK, you don't need to ask...here's the story:

I waited for the phone person to come hook up my phone—there had been some confusion as to whether s/he would show up between 8-12 or 1-4, so I hung out in the morning, zipped into town to do some errands, zipped back and hoped I didn't miss the event. Prior to hooking it up, I had a dial tone but got a fast busy when I dialed anything. On the day of, it went from busy to saying that all the numbers I dialed were out of order. I felt like I was getting somewhere...

By the end of the day (and the end of my time in NC), I had made no progress. I called the customer service number from the Atlanta airport. The VERY nice helpful woman said they had no record of my order--not under my name, the address, the order #, and the number I had been assigned had a different name on it...so I got angry, I cried, and Michelle (the VERY nice helpful woman) was close to tears herself--she said there had been some weird computer issues all day...so I said what do we do? And she said we start over. Name address date of birth SS# and I said NOPE I don't give that out over a public phone at an airport and by the way, I faxed a credit thing along with driver's license to the "welcome center." She said, AHA! So she called them and THEY HAD THE ORDER which did me no good as far as getting a phone but they approved me....again.

So in the meantime, she says, look at that! The number you were assigned is still available (huh?) (though they don't guarantee it til it's installed) and I said as long as we are having this conversation, I was told that they couldn't give me internet even though my neighbor has it. She said, oh yes you can so she signed me up for that and then I said, now what about TV? And she said, are you sure? Don't you wanna see how all this goes? Ha. So perhaps on June 26th at midnight I will have a phone--and maybe I won't. I am trying to think optimistically...but it can be harder than it looks sometimes.

More About some amazing events I witnessed in New Orleans

this is a link to a piece written by someone who was at Superlove/V-Day to the 10th. It's very moving
http://www.ourchart.com/user/144034/blog

This is a link to photos of the event
http://v10.vday.org/anniversary-events/photos/paula-allen

And finally, this is a link to a good article on the event
http://www.womensmediacenter.com/ex/043008.html

Just had to show some pretty pictures of spring

in North Carolina

PNewl PNews Volume 16 Issue 1

PNewL PNewS

Volume 16 No. 1 “All the pnews that phits.” April 2008

Things I am Learning And Other Miscellaneous Observations
It’s all about learning these days. Later.

And so begins Year 16 of the PNewL PNewS. Thanks for reading.

Reminder: 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic Saturday June 21 2008
Perles Beach. Be there or be square

Bye Bye Ann
My cousin Ann died this past month. She was a good friend for a good long time. We called each other west coast sisters. We ate great food, Worked on some projects together. Took walks at Point Reyes. She and her partner Victor joined brother Peter and I in Thailand and Bali and “Langwacky” (aka Langkawi Malaysia). She introduced me to NPR. She was an incredibly
gifted artist and teacher. And there are many who miss her. I am one of them.

Amazing…
“Looks like you forgot your kleenex tonight,” said Amelie as she dug around in her bag for some. The night before, at the premiere of Swimming Upstream: The Katrina Monologues, I had suggested people bring along their tissues as it could be, like lots of things in New Orleans and on the Gulf Coast in general, emotional. This night was the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, celebrated with a star studded very New Orleanian version of the Vagina Monologues. I wasn’t expecting the emotions here but out they poured. Sigh.

I have recently returned from five days in New Orleans, a visit that was so cram-packed full of different events and experiences and plenty of emotions, it’s hard to know where to start and how to tell the story. I told Sue and every other word was amazing. She said it was ok because it seemed that it truly was an amazing series of events.

The first two and a half days were taken up with site visits in New Orleans and on the Mississippi coast, meeting amazing activists and organizers and seeing the impact of the work they are doing. I want to adopt them all, I want to be them when I grow up, I want the world to be overwhelmed with pride for these folks who are doing such good hard work because the government isn’t. I want them to fulfill their mission, to be our future leadership, to solve the problems that New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are examples of. So many people said that NOLA provides a microcosm of the problems facing the country and the world. These are the people who are going to walk us through to the solution. Listen and learn. Love them. They are us, when we are the best we can be. (I don’t know what some of this means but I am on a roll.)
After this, I said to someone, I am full. I can’t hear anything more, can’t absorb anything else and I found I didn’t know myself very well. I went directly into two workshops on socially responsible investing, lead by a whole pile of—yes—amazing women. While I probably could have absorbed more under different circumstances, I learned a lot and was once again inspired by thoughtful smart amazing people doing good work.

With a brief break, we moved on to the premiere of Swimming Upstream, dramatic readings of a series of monologues by New Orleans’ women describing their Katrina-affected lives. It premiered in the Superdome—this weekend dubbed the Superlove—and all those images we all have in our heads of the hideous moments post Katrina…the people stuck in that building with little support…the overwhelming images…it was powerful being in that building, but hearing the women read the words was more powerful. In the way that is New Orleans, music was at the core and as we sniffled from monologue to monologue we were cradled in the melodies. I can’t imagine hearing “This little light of mine” ever again without getting choked up, it was all so moving. When it comes to a town near you, see it. These are stories, like so many, that need to be remembered.

Meanwhile, I managed to catch snippets of the French Quarter Fest—great music in all nooks and crannies as well as great food— and the events at the Superlove—part of the celebration of the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, working to eradicate violence against women. Non-stop early in the morning to end of the work day, speakers from around the world, local performers and celebrity leaders appeared on that stage.

The final evening we went to the closing event, a star studded, only in New Orleans version of the Vagina Monologues with people like Jane Fonda, Jennifers Hudson and Beals, Doris Roberts (from among other places, Everybody Loves Raymond), Charmaine Neville, Faith Hill. Plus 1200 women who hadn’t been back since the storm. At the end, Eve Ensler, the producer of the event, asked everyone in the audience of about 15,000 people who had been abused to stand up—my guess would be a third stood up. Then she asked everyone who knew someone who had been abused to stand and the whole room was on their feet. Together we sang R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Yeah, I had my kleenex then too.

Disengaging
It’s a brief time before the process will hit its full stride—when moving will become a full-time job. The disengaging process has begun. Regrets about not getting to those things I can always do because I never felt pressed before loom large. Events I could always go to next year but now probably won’t. Skipping some meetings because…well, I have been to enough of them…and why bother? New will be good but missing the old, the familiar, will be hard.
I knew something was going on when I drove through the Wildlife Refuge in early April looking for the white pelicans—one of dad’s and my favorite—thinking I’d missed them: they usually leave around this time. Tears were streaming down my face. I said aloud, so you thought this would be easy? Ha. But a flock–they are so big the word “herd” comes to mind—of the pillowy white birds were perched on the mudflat in the pond by the Lookout. I was so pleased, I miss them already.

It’s impossible to imagine leaving now. The weather is perfect. Warm in the sun, a little bit less so in the shade. Sun glistening on the bigger than ripples/not quite waves in the canal. The neighbors are leaving—the frantic energy and activity of season is dissipating.
The breeze feels like fine silk as it touches my skin.

I remember when I first started walking with Kathleen—it was this kind of weather and she said, “When we’re walking in July, we will think of these perfect days and remember why we live through the hot part.” Each year, I have thought of that and been so grateful for knowing these moments of perfection.

Once again, I am writing this as Bear and I sit in the shade of the palm tree in the cul de sac. He is chewing on a stick—an expensive one this time: a Bully stick and if you don’t know what that is, well, I will forgo the description. It’s almost cloudless though there are clouds beginning to build in the east. Maybe we will get a thunderstorm in the afternoon with much needed rain. A boat just went by and I feel as I sometimes do—you may have the boat, but I get to be here every day…for now.

And too soon as always, it is time to go. Bear’s done with his bully stick and he’s wrestling a palm frond into submission. He apparently thinks it’s time I got involved.

I had to go to North Carolina to mow my lawn

After I picked up a frightening rental car (I just replaced the tires on the Prius after Ken the mechanic berated me mercilessly for going way beyond their limits so I am a bit sensitive to bald tires and tags on the windshield that say this car should have been serviced 4000 miles ago), I drove into Weaverville. I wondered what the heck I was doing here. After picking up provisions, I knew. EVERYTHING in the bleeping county is blooming—and as one who has missed seven or eight years of spring, seeing that green and the remarkable flowers is worth the time money and effort. I can deal with the emotional upheaval later—or after dark.
I had no idea the two smaller trees in the front yard are actually gigantic dogwoods. The short leafless shrubs are now vivid azaleas. The blank spaces along the path are –oh Chris told me what they are…little white flowering perennials? The dirt wall at the end of the driveway is sprinkled with really teeny iris and purple and pink things (if they are weeds, don’t mention it as they are lovely), and the sweetest little violets. It’s a big glorious party in the garden. Who knew?

Not all of this has been glorious. I am still dealing with the what the heck am I doing here part. Buyer’s remorse? Who knows. I love the new but hate the details—the sad, the missing, the uncertainty, the fear. I spent a couple days facing that. I think the lack of TV unmasks a lot of it. If only I could drown out my monologue with a little All My Children or Grey’s Anatomy. But when I finally wandered out into the world, it got better and I remembered that this is mostly good (except for the sad, missing part).
I believe this is gonna work. I got to have dinner with Betty and Tom who just happened to be in town. I went to a book signing with like 14 you know like 20-somethings (what generation are we on…z-gen?). I missed Hillary’s swing through Western North Carolina but she sold out which is a hopeful sign. (Which is not to say I am Hillary fan—I just like that there are people here who would show up for it). I have seen men my age without wedding bands. I went to the preview of the local open studio tour and won an hour massage at the local Zen inn. I hung out with some of my neighbors who I like more each time I see them. I met a woman who moved from California to Florida to North Carolina and wants to commiserate, wants new friends and is a Pilates instructor (all good).

I stripped the quaint wallpaper trim that has made me feel this home wasn’t mine and found environmentally correct paint I can consider for the kitchen. I have moved some glass globes around so that I can live with the yellow-gold metal fixtures until I get someone to replace them (I fear electricity). I went to a couple stops on the open studio tour and brought home a large flying ceramic pig whistle that is holding court in an otherwise bland bathroom. I walked with Jane-the-human and Sadie-the-dog on the Blue Ridge Parkway and along the Swannanoa River (near where brother David went to Outward Bound). I am a lucky girl. Life is good.
Ah, it’s time for Desperate Housewives…somewhere other than here. I will go read the recently autographed book instead. Sleep well.

PS I did not mow the lawn, but someone else is or has or...well, we shall see.

I love my stuff...sometimes

Much has been going on and I can't seem to keep on top of blogging as well apparently. We had a big fund-raiser here and a couple days later Gini and Bear and I caravaned to North Carolina, in two loaded down vehicles.

There is a saying I’ve mentioned before that there’s no such thing as bad weather, it’s bad clothing choices, or something like that. For those of you who have unlimited experience in the frozen tundra of the northern tier of states, you know better than I the truth of this statement. I am the first to admit I am a weather wimp. I have not driven in snow since high school. Oh there has been the occasional Christmas at my parent’s house but never far and never long and always really really slow. Now I am willingly moving to a place that gets cold and I am wondering what I am thinking. I am not worried about being cold—I would much prefer to be cold than hot which is ironic since I willingly moved to what I hope is the hottest place on the planet (if anyone lives somewhere hotter they should consider moving because I just don’t think we are meant to live like that)—it’s just that I am a bit out of practice when it comes to dressing for cold weather climes.

I am worried about the learning curve. I just came in from walking the large hound. He has taken this short-term climate change in stride. He has more energy than ever. There are great new smells and animals—with neighbors in the shape of llamas, horses and angora goats, some are even bigger than he is—and terrain to cover and shrubs to pee on. He’s in heaven. On the other hand, I had to come back in three times to upgrade my outfit, adding first a scarf then a hat and mittens, and finally hot coffee. Bear, in the meantime, is sitting his delicate fanny directly on the frozen ground. I have to say the first time he did that he got up immediately and turned around to look at what he had been sitting on as if to say, what the heck? Shortly thereafter, after several runs pursuing the many sticks in the yard, he lay prone (Merriam Webster: having the front or ventral surface downward) on the frozen ground, looking up as he does, adoringly and he was happily cool.

We also got to play minor roles in Patsy Thompson's latest DVD (http://patsythompsondesigns.com/). And then, leaving my aging truck in NC, we drove back down together. Immediately following was the annual arts & crafts sale with Susi and Barb et al, and phew, now all there is to do is deal with the bajillion tourists. Oh wait--next week is a fund-raiser for Greg Mortenson who wrote Three Cups of Tea (he builds schools in Asia--FABULOUS book, wonderful org, send him money now at http://www.ikat.org/).

In the meantime, I have done some packing and some sending of things to others and some donating to worthy orgs like SWFAS and the Library, my two favorite local causes...and sometimes I wonder why I keep things and sometimes I can't imagine ever parting with every broken pencil and twist tie. What is the deal? I have to think on the meaning of this more and will get back to you if I come to any understanding...

So I just wanted to say I hope you all are staying well and that the return of the daylight (after that absurd ridiculous dangerous-to-children-boarding-early-buses, why-can't-they-wait-til-April time change--don't get me started, I am realllllly upset about it), is brightening your view of the world.

More pics below. More words in the near future I hope. (Got my taxes organized so there is hope for more interesting things in the future...)

Here are Bear and I after unloading the vehicles. We are very tired.












And another results-of-moving photo...

until we meet again...peggy