Chronic Negress

The Negress has been ensconced here in and around Washington DC for nearly a month. Resumes are out, some old friends have been contacted (lovely dinner of homemade pizza and Corey Creek Rose in Virginia catching up with someone who has known me since I was 21), burglar alarms have been tripped (sorry cousin) and miles have been driven. I found out my Dad’s old turntable is on the fritz, so I bought a new one so I can listen to my Mink DeVille records one more time (RIP Willy DeVille, a Cadillac of a man). I have spent some evenings drinking Yalumba Viognier and Momo Sauvignon Blanc,  but I’m feeling slightly dependent so I’m trying not to drink every day. I’m still agog at how much everything has changed as though I also stood still for 33 years and expected everything else to do so as well. My Dad’s old office building at the Census Bureau has been torn down. Silver Spring has a “downtown” (I knitted there at a wine bar recently. Had fun but it’s still a bit strange). My uncle’s old house with the pool and fabulous slate roof was demolished to make way for three or so MacMansions. My cousin salvaged the signpost but that still stings. My old homestead of Suitland has become a place where babies catch bullets in car seats. I have plans to reconnect with my Texas self by going to see Lyle Lovett in November. With any luck, I will have a job by then. Happily, I already seem to be having a life.