The Three Week Test

So, the thing is that in every new job I've ever had, at some time during the third week, I've come to the conclusion that I've made a terrible mistake by changing jobs and I've wondered if I could get my old job back. Then, by the fourth week, I acquired my sea legs and all went...ahem... swimmingly from then on. (Well, until I hit the three year itch but that's another blog post for another blog.)

This three week test has stood me in good stead in other big life changes, too. Marriage, new car purchases, puppy ownership, breastfeeding and now this enormous move to a new state.

Technically, I'm in my fourth week of this new life but there was a week there where we had no furniture and a rental car and then there was the break in the space time continuum when we spent one solid day unloading the moving van, not to mention going to get the girls from Texas... I think this is my third week REALLY.

And I have to say, I think maybe I'm getting my sea legs. I've had just a very few minutes of wishing I was back in Austin but I read the blog of a friend of mine from Austin and she reminded me that at this point in spring, those little inch worms start dropping from the trees. How glad am I not to be there for THAT? When you've got hair like mine, you might not find one of those suckers for WEEKS.

But anyway, I think I'm getting the hang of things a little bit. Twice this week I drove places without using the GPS (which, by the way, has done for my sense of direction what Google has done for my memory of obscure facts.) I still get honked at every single time I drive anywhere but it doesn't bother me so much. I mean, it's true, I'm not a stomp-on-the-gas, stand-on-the-brake kind of girl. I like to sort of ease into the flow.

New Yorkers hate that.

In fact, that's probably the biggest thing that sets me apart from the people here --I'm just slower. I talk slower and I drive slower and I chew slower and I write slower and I probably THINK slower.

I'd really like to fit in that regard but the thing is that I'm TIRED. Seriously. I am seriously TIRED. I know I used to have the endless supply of energy of the young and unfettered but I just don't have it anymore. So, I don't think I'm going to be able to up my speed much. I kind of feel like my old (15) dog Sydney who has reached a place where she's just not trying that hard to please other people. Still enjoying life, still running for the ball when she feels like it. But lately, she doesn't even get to her feet to go outside when I first come down in the morning. It's too early for her. I can totally relate to her --I'm tired, too. (Although I have to say that I pass a LOT less gas than she does. Whoo--EEE, nobody light a match.)

(Okay, so I have to tell this story. The other night, Ana came down and said, "Gosh, what is that SMELL?? Did Sydney pass some gas? Oh, my gosh, it's AWFUL!! Oh, My, Gosh, I am going to be SICK!" And I said, "Okay, okay, I understand what you are saying but I could do with a little less drama, okay?" And she said, "What? All I am saying is that it appears that someone has cut a big slice."

If nothing else, this move to New York has really broadened my children's cultural idioms.)

(Okay, so I didn't react well to that. Differently than my husband, to whom I recounted this story later that evening. HE doubled over, laughing. I was all Mary Poppins-ish and disapproving. Men are from Mars, Women are from Miss Manners.)

Anyway, I guess at some point, I'll feel a little more assimilated. But I have to say, I am just loving life here and truly loving New Yorkers as a species. It seems as though everyone I've met is just all heart--so open and giving and friendly. They may honk at me in traffic but they'd give me the shirt off their backs if I'd just get the hell out of the way.