Posts Tagged ‘sigh of relief’

i’m getting out of this city for a little while.  not long, just enough to get quick tastes of a place i know i love and a couple of places i think i will.  i’m two days beyond an out-of-control week, and just can’t get it through my head that something i’ve waited long for is really happening.

it’s a restrained kind of freedom, though, because of course i’ll come back to all the same routines and responsibilities.  it’s just a breather.  and i love my life, i do.  but sometimes i find it tempting: the idea of just completely running away.  i’m not good at abandoning things — i maintain connections long and deep and for god’s sake, it’s my vacation and i’ve already checked my work email four times.  i wish i knew how to let go.


Read Full Post »

everything is settled now.  i have everything i wanted.

i am a woman of simple needs.  i need shelter.  i need entertainment, and i’m happy whether it’s a morning with cereal and crochet hooks, or an afternoon with an almanac, or a night at a sports bar.  i need the occasional really nice meal, and i’m delighted to dirty my own hands making it.  i need a soft place to sleep, and it’s nice to have periodic company there.  i need to be able to go out and buy a bag of cherries now and then.

i have all of those things, and then some.

it was kind of a near thing.  not too near, not dangerously so, but a little closer than i’d have liked.  and i am not a risk-taker, so i’m pleased that on this extraordinarily rare occasion on which i took a significant risk, it all worked out nicely, conventional wisdom be damned.

Read Full Post »

i am caught between tenses: not long ago i knew that i would arrive.  now, i have arrived,  am arriving.

there are still tupperware centerpieces and cardboard box curios, but there’s also a ceiling fan in every room, an in-sink disposal, immaculate white trim on latte-colored walls, and the beautiful furniture that has weighed down my tiny, mighty little car on the half-hour drive from stoughton, three times.

i am settling in — perhaps it’s telling that “settled” was the first thing i typed.  i can get lost downtown and remain relatively unrattled.  i can change lanes at the last minute and (i think) only mildly annoy the drivers behind me.  i have a pharmacy.  i have a liquor store.  (–not to be combined, those two.)  and i’m on the lookout for a doctor and a dentist and a DMV.  i have a nice neighborhood.

closer to home, i have a new niece and a second interview at my first choice job.  i have a cable guy and a costco membership.  i have someone who appreciates my command of the english language and kisses my forehead in the middle of the night.  i have a kindly landlady, a bed i consider a haven, a roommate i adore, a kitchen to die for.   i have a home.

Read Full Post »

stress, not power, = work/time.

  • where stress > power, work doesn’t get done.
  • where stress = power, work gets done.
  • where stress < power, work gets done… and so does a cup of tea, and a good book.

today i took steps to increase time, decrease stress, decrease the ratio of stress to power… and it feels glorious.

the lesson?

no one makes me do it but me.

Read Full Post »

heart-swelling love and heart-stopping lust are both precious and rare.

Read Full Post »

you know, stasis is really my thing.  i can enjoy being almost anywhere.  i can enjoy crowd and countryside, constant diversion and utter peace.  i can withstand smog and isolation.  such is the life of a country mouse-turned-city mouse.

traveling from place to place is something entirely different.  two hours in a car.  five hours on a bus.  an hour in south station.  two more hours on a bus.  a half hour walk.

but after all that, when i finally arrived at my destination, there were smiles and hugs and homemade clam chowder and salad and a glass of wine with my name on it.

traveling, i have come to believe, is like carrot cake.  it’s worth picking your way around all the nuts you can’t eat, as long as you get to smear the frosting all over your face afterwards.

ok, so it’s not a perfect metaphor.

Read Full Post »