Finding my Bearings...

The relocation specialist came by yesterday.

Ironically, he was Irish. From Galway, just like the Irishman.

We walked through the apartment while he took inventory, asking what was staying and what was going. All the while, I had Should I Stay or Should I Go playing on repeat in my head as I answered his questions.

Thirty minutes later, he was gone.

As the door closed behind him, I stood there for a moment. It was as if the reality of what is happening finally caught up with me.

I knew exactly how the process worked. After all, I had watched the Irishman go through it back in March. But somehow, this felt different. This time it was my turn.

Miles and I sat together for awhile, but the walls suddenly felt a bit too close. I kissed Miles, told him I would be back soon and grabbed my headphones, wallet, and keys and headed out the door.

I found myself at the Ferry Building as I had decided I needed to be on the water.

The next ferry was headed to Sausalito, so I climbed aboard, found a seat on the top deck, put on my headphones and as the Bay wrapped it’s self around me like a cool blanket I was able to breathe.

I lived in Sausalito twenty years ago, so it still feels wonderfully familiar. The water and a healthy dose of California sunshine soothed my soul. I caught the bus home, hopping off at the Presidio for a long walk through one of my favorite places in the city.

Last night, I packed my first box. It wasn’t so bad, Goppolini, aka Miles, supervised as he always does.

Ask me again in a couple of weeks when the novelty has worn off. But as George Carlin famously said, it’s all just stuff.

Meanwhile, back in Tullamore...

The foundation for the Cedar House extension has been poured. The shed is finished and the Irishman now has two of his motorcycles by his side and the biggest smile on his face… Vroom. Vroom.

The next chapter is beginning to take shape, one day at a time. And then there is something else.

I have started drawing again.

I have always doodled, I took an illustration class focused on cakes and florals during Covid to help with my baking business and to learn the basics. A few weeks ago, I came across my art box, filled with watercolor paints, brushes, pens, pencils and inks. Now, I find myself up late into night getting lost drawing and painting, especially if I am waiting for something to finish cooking.

Today I found a treasure I had completely forgotten about. Tucked away in a box of recipes , a cookbook I started writing years ago. Not only was I writing it, I was illustrating it too.

Yes... I am listening to all the signs.

Bia maith leat. Bon Appetit. Spis godt