You Are a Playwright |
 You are a highly literate wordsmith. You love both reading and writing. You are also a natural storyteller. You can turn a mediocre anecdote into a riveting tale. You find people and all aspects of life fascinating. No topic is off limits for you. In modern times, you would make a good filmmaker or novelist. |
Now that I am shifting into moving mode, I have decided that the kitchen is closed until I have moved. That's OK though. There's lots of food in Berkeley to which I must say goodbye. Yes, I know that I'm not moving that far away. But all of this yumminess will no longer be within walking distance -- or a quick drive.
I guess you could say that it all started the minute I signed that huge stack of papers. To make up for being out of the office for half a day, I stopped at Love at First Bite Bakery and picked up mini cupcakes for the office. Oh, and a couple of regular-sized red velvet cupcakes for the Commander and LaLa Bean. (And a thank you to Zoomie for pointing out this gem in my neighborhood.)
Then later that evening I headed to Poulet to pick up dinner for the Zombie family as they had been moving that day and were not equipped for dinner preparation. There will be at least one more trip to Poulet before I move. And the folks there, upon learning that I would be moving, asked if I would come back to visit them occasionally. Of course.
Saturday I dined on the short end rib dinner from KC's. Sauce on the side of course. And they still serve it with white bread instead of the wheat that so many places have changed over to.
Sunday afternoon I hit Cesar with Emerald and her little girl. I'm a bit worried about her daughter who is now 14 months. She spent most of her time trying to chat with the other patrons. To the point that she turned her back on us almost the entire time. The only time she turned around was when she heard the bartender shaking some drink at the bar. Emerald and I made jokes about what her daughter's order would be. Emerald decided on, "I will require some whole milk. Slightly warmed. Shaken, not stirred."
Last night I had to make a quick change in dinner plans. I found myself at home and a little hungry. (The free pizza from lunch had disappeared. The pizza was courtesy of the president of the company because he won the March Madness pool. I ended up in 5th or 6th place.) What to have? Gregoire's!
I stayed in on a Saturday night. I spent most of yesterday taking care of various things for the new place -- getting a remote for the garage door, meeting with the handyman to finalize the work he will be doing this week, selecting the paint color for the bedroom, selecting the kitchen counter material, buying a light fixture for the dining room. All in all I was out for eight hours. And when I got home, I was plum tired. I also knew that I had a list of stuff to take care of today for the new place and needed to be able to awake clear-eyed. Fortunately before I left out yesterday, I had the foresight to set the DVR to tape one of my fave channels -- VH1. Yep. All five hours of the top 100 One-Hit Wonders of the 80s. And so now I present you with some of my absolute faves from the series.
You Are a Bad Girl |
 You are 20% Good and 80% Bad You're a total bad girl, from your wild hair to tattooed toes. But you're too badass to even care if you're labeled "bad"! |
Once more I find myself sitting here trying to find some order in the jumble that is currently my brain. Bear with me. As I walked around Berkeley this morning (I finally remembered to pick up more cat food.), I had so many thoughts of what I might say.
I thought about my upcoming move. I will finally have room for my piano. (Crap! Still need to call the piano movers about picking it up from my mom's house.) My dad bought it for me as a birthday gift when I turned eleven. I campaigned for six months to get it.
It started in Georgia during the previous summer though. My dad's hometown is around 10,000 people or so. The one television in my aunt's house stayed on NBC in the afternoons for soap opera viewing. I was tired of reading. And so I announced that I was bored. My aunt went looking through her piano books until she found the first beginner book. At dinner, I announced that I had finished the book. So she pulled out the next one. It went this way for a couple of weeks until I could read music. I spent the rest of that summer picking my way through all the other books in between reading books.
I loved playing the piano so much that I decided that I really needed my own piano at home. My mother will tell you that my father got the cheap end of the deal. Right after I received the piano, I then began the campaign for lessons. Five years worth.
I haven't played that much since I graduated from college. Even though I was no longer taking lessons, I kept my books with me. And when I was feeling really stressed out, I would find an empty practice room and play until my hands hurt too much.
As I remembered all of this, it dawned on me that today I was starting to say my goodbyes. I have loved these past four years in Berkeley but now it's time for something new.
I had just assumed that my aunt would be around to see the next phase in my life. (My cousins decided to end life support and my aunt passed away this morning.) I've been talking to her on a near daily basis for years. A year ago there were three people to whom I talked on my way to work -- my father, his younger sister and his older sister. Now two of those three are gone and mornings feel so empty.
The last nine months have been hard. And I'm getting tired of saying goodbye.
Sorry for not responding to comments. The last time I logged in to do so, things were wonky.
After signing all the paperwork for the condo, one of the first people I called was my dad's older sister. She's one of the folks to whom I talk on a near daily basis. She's the one who stayed with my dad after my stepmother died.
My dad just called. My aunt has had a major stroke. My reaction was, "But I just talked to her earlier today." My dad said he knew because he talked to his sister after I did and she had told him that she had talked to me.
I've been here before. My dad's mother went through a series of strokes. She was sick for ten years and never got better. I was hoping to never have to go to that place again.
This past weekend my friend Marin and her family moved into their new home. Today the Zombie family is moving as well.
Last night I bought a stove and refrigerator. Today I signed the last of the papers. In a couple of weeks I too will be moving. No more Poulet and Gregoire in the neighborhood. But I'll have more space. And it is mine. It seems surreal.
