Monday, January 24, 2011

Old and Fresh

I think I’m so ready to move forward: bring in the new. I literally have a list – little projects, big ideas, acquaintances who have offered to help me move or get together for lunch or whatever – that I keep putting off. My latest is the just-let-me-get-settled-in-the-apartment excuse.

Well, late Friday night, I got settled. Put away the last box. I now only have a few things to get up on the walls. So what did I do this weekend? Spent it with my usual suspects. It seems that when your life is flooded with change, even the old is fresh.

Tabitha and Bindy came from different directions for a visit on Saturday. They offered lots of positive feedback for the apartment and took me out to dinner. I probably shouldn’t qualify for the kid-glove treatment anymore, but many thanks, Ladies!

Quinn was supposed to be here too. Instead, she sent her signature flake text in place of her smiling face. That’s OK. I do find the familiar particularly comforting these days. It’s like my phone stalker. How long has it been now . . . one year? Two years? You know who you are . . . you keep calling just when I forget whose number that is, and I always miss you because I rarely answer like I should. I love that even if I call you back within seconds, you don’t pick up. Because you’re lazy and weird about getting back to people. And that’s fine with me. Eventually, I’ll shock the hell out of us both by picking up your call. Maybe it’s better we leave it like it is.

I guess you could say I relish familiar objects in new surroundings. I have Tabitha’s childhood shelves, painted black, in my living room. (About ten years ago, I went on a black painting spree; it was my goth moment in furniture.) The black is chipped off down to the white paint in places, with a light dusting of wall texturing spray. I love those shelves. They are full of happy friendship vibes. I’m so glad I didn’t replace them with Ikea newness.

And Tabitha appreciates those shelves too. She let me know this weekend that if I ever wanted to get rid of them, she wants them . . . um, I don’t think so. Anyway, on Saturday, Bindy tried to go to bed at her usual early hour . . . what was it, 9:30? How often do I get to see you, Bitch? Tabitha and I lured her back out of bed. Whenever we get together and Bindy is ready to go down for her very wrong bedtime, we hit a feverish pitch of charming and hilarious just to keep her up. And it totally works . . . for maybe an hour. Our golden hour last night reminded me of how funny Bindy is and also what an insane vocabulary she has. It got me all in the mood for another guest blog post . . . Bin-dy! Bin-dy! Bin-dy!

We did let Bindy go to sleep eventually, and I had her sleep in my bed. Tabitha slept on the fold-out couch in the living room. I took one for the team by going up to the loft bed, which really is teen furniture. It’s cute but creaky with what I’m calling a normal adult weight range. Bindy’s a light sleeper, so she could hear every creak as I tossed and turned above her. I caused her own personal earthquake as I climbed down to open the bedroom window . . . I really needed some air. After I returned to my perch, I started to go into a real panic attack. I'm claustrophobic and the ceiling was a little too close to my face. How do the kids deal with that? I finally gave up and crawled into bed with Bindy in the middle of the night. Sometimes, new things get old quick.

And sometimes, old things seem new. Ask Tabitha. Today was another beautiful January summer day, and we went to a restaurant right on the water for breakfast. Just as we got there, Tabitha mentioned she forgot her sunglasses. We opted to eat inside, and it was still very bright, so Bindy and I kept our sunglasses on. I turned to Tabitha intermittently to express concern regarding the blinding sunshine coming through the window . . . did she want to try another seat? Toward the end of breakfast, I realized the sunglasses on my face felt weird. I took them off to discover they weren’t mine at all. I handed them to Tabitha, who declared she had been cluelessly admiring them . . . it’s good to like your own style. My sunglasses were in my purse where I usually keep them.

Old things can seem really new when you haven’t seen them in a while. After saying goodbye to my girls and picking up my little girls, I cleaned out my car. I would say my car was starting to resemble a moving garbage dump, but it would be more accurate to say it was a moving garbage dump. I peeled away layers of moving, kid, and work debris. Finally, I stuck my hands under the seats for a few sparkly floor scores. My hand hit a mystery object that didn’t budge when I first grabbed it, and when it came loose, it was a freaking miracle. My camera! The last I remember, I set it on top of my car to get the kids situated. But it wasn’t my typical smooth maneuver after all. Apparently, I got the camera into the car, but a dollop of melted candy superglued it to the bottom of the front passenger seat. I can only imagine all the crap I shoved in there during the moving process had something to do with the phenomenon. But hello . . . all’s well that ends well.


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