First Night

Spent the first night at the place in the 55 Plus Community.  On the expensive but much needed new mattress.  No verdict yet on if the mattress is the one step short of miracle that it claims to be but I can keep you posted on that.  

Yesterday was dedicated to installation of lighting; it's one of those things that we have wished we had done in our other homes, and just decided we were going to do this time around.  The same reasoning has led to the installation of new kitchen cabinets, a built in entertainment center and integrated shelving for my office.  The money is going to run out pretty soon, or there would have also been new interior doors, a backyard fire pit and some sort of water feature.  Someday.

Frances worked last night, so after the electrician left - at about 6 PM - I decided to go up to the clubhouse for dinner.  Check out the social scene.   Start trying to meet people.   Have a drink.  Test out  this heavily promoted community lifestyle.   And I've got to say that I had a great time.  Bartenders were friendly.  Folks were happy to chat.  Even snagged a dinner invitation for Friday night. 

I certainly was not talking with a scientifically or randomly selected sample, but the people I was talking with last night really love living here.  They were also  - overall - a tad bit drunk.  A benefit, I guess, of living in a gated community where drinking and driving is not too much of an issue.  I was glad that we were on summer hours and the place closed at 7 or I would have likely joined right in.  More like I definitely would have joined right in. Which would have been a BAD idea....

A Price to be Paid

We have chaos for sure.

The kitchen has been torn out and a new wine refrigerator has been ordered.   We have virtually no furniture, and while we have ordered some and moved some, there is a bit of uncertainty as to when it is all going to be delivered.  With our luck, we will have three deliveries at the same time as the kitchen cabinets are being screwed in to the wall....which will cause us to exceed our limit of vehicles in the driveway, triggering some sort of sanction.  That being said, the cable has been turned on and we bought a new TV (which is actually kind of cool; the picture is good and the TV connects to the internet very efficiently.)  So, we can sit on the floor with a glass of warm wine and watch a marathon of Law and Order or Orange is the New Black if we want to. 

(A piece of me will miss the simplicity of this home without "stuff.'  But let's not overdue the simplicity thing - my knees will appreciate having chairs to sit in - and get up from!)

My car transpoder for the community gates was installed today.  The appointment was at 9 AM and it was my THIRD visit to the clubhouse to deal with the paperwork/scheduling/installation of this piece of sticky metal.  The whole day was scheduled around this appointment.    And you can easily guess what happened as I lined up my car in perfect alignment with the cones just 12 inches from the curb - - they could find no record of me.  No paperwork.  No appointment.  No name on file. 

I momentarily forgot that these partrol officers were in fact my neighbors. I believe that they understood that I would not be leaving without a transponder and that they would be finding my paperwork.  Which they did.  Eventually.

Overall, despite my frustrations with a slightly entrenched Homeowners Association that appears to be working from a model that made sense when this community was 100 homes and some courageous homesteaders, I am very excited to move in.  This is a beautiful place to live, and the beuracracy that could drive me crazy is exactly what keeps the community intact.  We don't get to do anything we want to do without someone looking over our shoulder.  That was the deal from the get-go.   

We wanted community - and we realize (sometimes less thn gracefully) that there is a price to be paid for that.

Overheard

So, I had to go up to the clubhouse to give the HOA a copy of my car registration (this place is  VERY detail oriented!) and decided to walk through the library to see if there was anything that I wanted to borrow.

Two women were sitting in the libarary - I am guessing they were in their lat 70s.  And they were chatting.   My first thought was, "My goodness, we are talking rather loudly for a library, arent' we?"   But their decibel level did give me a chance to listen in on their chat.

They were talking about grief.  And loss.  And taking things one day at a time and how everyone grieves differently.   One of them metioned that she had written a book.  They were talking about their mothers-in-law and the South and their life-lessons.

Except for the South part,  I think I am going to fit right in.

Slowing Down

I get it.

Sort of.

We have moved in to what is - for all intents and purposes - a retirement community.   By and large the profile of folks who live here would be money in the bank and time on the hands.

So, it works out great for most people if they are told that to have a transponder placed on their car in order to enter the gated community without benefit of a guard,  they need to present themsleves and their car with registration to community patrol on Saturday between 11 AM and 1 PM to have a transponder installed.   It doesn't feel like an inefficient pain in the neck to my neighbors; they have the time and why not let the kind gentleman (I'll be shocked if we are talking about a woman) install the 8 ozs worth of plastic for them

And I can't just show up on a Saturday (I DID try that).   An appoinment is required - mostly, I think, so that they can collect the fee - if due.  We may have a 2 and a half car garage, but only one transponder is included in our Home Owner Association dues.   The process, then, is AT LEAST 2 - pronged: visit the Home Owners Association office to make an appointment (HOA is open 10 AM - 3 PM Monday - Thursday) and then show up for installation.

I am sure that little piece of velcro that they are going to use to install this thing on my windshield requires professional oversight.  No doubt about it.  The HOA lady couldn't just give me the darn thing.  My feeling is,   if I can assemble IKEA furniture,  I can install a transponder. But no.
.
In a spirit of full disclosure, I made the first appointment,  so Frances will have to pay the fee for the second transponder.  Ha!  Little chuckle there between me and the Home Owners Association lady.

The HOA lady and I needed the chuckle, because I think we already pushed her buttons on another issue.  We wanted the list of "approved" contractors so that we could start to schedule work before we moved in.  She had our name as buyers and everything - we weren't a mystery to her.  But no.  She could not email the list.  She could not mail the list.  She could not fax, text or courier pigeon the list.  The list was not available on line. But we were sure welcome to come come and pick up a copy anytime between 10 AM and 3 PM Monday  - Thursday.

No exceptions.

Did I mention that we still work?

But I get it.

Sort of.

55 Plus

Let's get one thing straight from the beginning; I am not yet 55.   My dear parter of 30 years is not 55 either.

But, we are moving in to a 55 Plus Active Adult Community anyway.  This should be interesting. We are Irish.  Gay.  I don't play golf, but Frances does - or used to before she banged up her shoulder.  I moved the golf clubs in to the new house today and we have the golf cart in the event that the shoulder improves....

I have met some of our new neighbors.  Bill and Helene from Germany seem nice; she is recovering from knee replacement surgery and he is the "unofficial" mayor of our little cul de sac - or would be if Clint from Montana did not want the job.  Lidia has a heart of gold from what I can tell; she is 75 years old, healthy and - at least so far - not an unkind word to say about anyone.  Of course, we haven't fully moved in yet.

This community is huge and right outside of Phoenix.  Dad wants to know if we have met any illegal aliens yet - this because his only sense of Arizona is from Fox News.  I assured Dad that we most likely had already welcomed illegal alliens into our home several times; case in point, I have not asked for the papers of the guys who are tearing my kitchen cabinets out as I type.  I am pretty sure that the guys who are installing the new cabinets next week will have papers, but I am  not asking.  Don't ask. Don't tell.    Wasn't that the Clinton administration's answer for complicated diversity issues?  Works for me.


We are moving here because we really want to be part of a community.    We want to easily meet people.  We also have more in common with boomers than with parents of toddlers; if I am going to hang out with somebody, parents of toddlers are really not my target market.  Unless they are related to me.  In which case, I have arranged for a slightly uncomfortable pull out couch and I hope that they will visit often.

Catching Up

To briefly summarize...  in the last four months I have bought a home and sold one, moved from the east coast to Arizona and bought a car.  I also took over an eighth grade math classroom for four months which should make everyone question my sanity.

Major upheaval.  Intentionally pushing a re-start button.  It's not a total rewind; my past is sacred to me.  But this move is a very deliberate attempt to create new experiences.

From a new climate to new grocery stores to new neighbors, new colleagues and new places to put all of my stuff, it is a daily challenge to tame the unknown and master the environment.    I am learning where the locals shop and the restaurants that are not worth the money.   As I figure out my way around town, I am making a lot of U turns....  most of them are legaI.  I got new glasses from an almost-expired prescription but I don't have any doctors yet and I need to get some soon.   This week, I am going to tackle the DMV; I have an entire day set aside for that.

The anonymity of living in a new place is somewhat comforting, but the familiar isolation remains.  Meeting new people requires constant evaluation: how much do I really want to share with this person?  Typical "getting to know you" conversations are landmines for me; it takes awhile for me to warm up enough to trust people with my tales.  It's not that everybody doesn't have a story - they do.   It's just that my stories seems so deeply painful to tell and - I would think - to listen to.

And For My Next Gig....

I am ready to go back to work.

And boy has applying for work changed since I last had to look for a job.  I have always just talked to folks and found work - almost but not quite over the backyard fence.  Now, everything is online.  Typos take precedence over character. Sentence structure obliterates experience.  Neglecting to check a box will completely sink an application.

Over the last 25 years or so, I enjoyed a certain amount of professional success, I've maintained my network, and I did not foresee that it would be difficult to drop back in to the work world when I was ready.  So, after Molly took her own life, and it seemed critical to my own healing to leave my job, I figured I'd find something new when I needed it. Perhaps a tad bit naive on my part.

Don't get me wrong.   If anyone asks, I can account for the last four years.    First and foremost, I have been mourning  for Molly and Mom, but I  have also been helping my dad rebuild his life after the car accident that killed my mother, earning a masters degree, serving on a county commission and working as a substitute teacher.  I've also lost 50 pounds, finished a 5K in under 30 minutes and turned 50.  That this has been the highest and best use of my time is unquestioned.   

And by golly, as a result of these last four years, I am stronger, more confident and more clear-headed  than I have ever been. I am ready.  I am not broken.  In fact, I bring with me a hard-earned sense of both confidence and compassion that will only be an asset in any workplace.  

It's time.

If only I can figure out how to convey all of that through an electronic application form!