Having a Sunday Moment
(Okay, so he could be the skinniest man on earth.)
My husband got up with the kids and let me sleep in this morning, past 8:00, which is almost unheard of for me.
With the creases still on my face, the kids and I piled into the car and went and got bagels (and coffee, for me.) I got Jane a muffin and when the server pulled it out, she handed me an extra one that had a small piece out of it. "I can't sell this. Do you want to take it, too?"
After breakfast, Jane wandered into my office and saw a skein of yarn on the floor. "Oh, mama, oh MAMA, will you make me some socks out of this? Oh, PLEASE?" (I had earmarked the wool for DK but I think she will understand that when your seven-year-old ASKS you to knit some socks, you gotta get right on that.)
I have all the windows open in the house and I can't tell you what it's like to be here with the windows open on June 1st, NOT SWEATING. (It's 99 degrees F in Austin right now.)
Lyle Lovett (I'm on a Lyle kick lately) is singing about having a boat and a pony (one of my favorite songs by Lyle) in the background, the birds are singing and I can hear them because did I mention that it's June 1st and I have all the windows open?
My house is almost clean. I love that.
Last night we had all of our neighbors (except the couple who live right next door, whose children are grown and who live half the time in Florida so we never really see them) over for dinner. I cooked a big pan of enchiladas and we had mango margaritas and New York cheesecake and our house positively vibrated with levity and good cheer. At some point I realized that my neighbors (such good, good people) were all there trying their hardest to make us comfortable here. There they all were, gamely eating my funky Texas-Meets-Long-Island dinner and just WELCOMING us, you know? Pitching in to clean the kitchen and letting their kids stay up later than normal just to help us fill this big ole house with laughter.
I got a lot of wonderful e-mails and comments on my melancholy last post about missing Austin and still not really being at home in my skin here on Long Island. Thank you for sharing your stories of transitions you've made and for reinforcing that it just takes time. Thank you for telling me all the ways you grew and evolved and were transformed by meeting a new challenge in a new town.
My friend Sherry (from Austin, who is moving here for the summer!) sent me a note in which she talked about her own move from Texas to London, a move that was to be only two years but stretched to ten. She said, "I think it was the weekend getaways, where I could do plenty of hill-walking and pub-crawling, that transformed me. One year, I couldn't imagine ever giving up lazy afternoons by Barton Springs. Eighteen months later, I couldn't imagine ever giving up the English countryside. Find the one thing you love most about New York and do a lot of it; that should make the transition easier."
Well, last night I think I figured out what part of that was. Isn't is amazing that no matter where you go or what you do, good friends can be made and good people can be found? (I'm not just saying that because they liked my cooking, either. Seriously.)
I'd write more about it but I have to go give my tomatoes some plant food because it looks to me like they're setting fruit.