A delayed post from last weekend - the next one will be current.

It’s the 2nd of April, and in 14 days I’ll fly into a new adventure, a new life. To an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. With all my worldly goods and my wonderful Emma.

* I’m uprooting myself from the 1913 house I’ve lived in for a record 3-1/2 years, which I transformed from dereliction into a nurturing nest with lots of fresh paint in warm colors and charming décor.

I’m saying goodbye to my housemate and wonderful brother Steve, who helped me (well, he did all all the hard work) attempt my first-ever gardening effort.

So here I am, at 10:00 on the Saturday morning a mere two weeks before I move aforementioned worldly goods and Emma, sitting in my pajamas in a lovely room on the 8^th floor of the Doubletree Metropolitan Hotel on Lexington at E 51^st in New York City.

WHAT???????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*  Ann called me Thursday night to ask if I would like to join her here while she attended a weekend workshop.  A bad migraine had come on that day, due, no doubt, to the stress of the moving process, so I told her that I just couldn’t go.  In spite of repeated doses of Excedrin Migraine, it persisted through the night.  After calling the office, I went back to sleep.  Five hours later, Ann called to ask how I was doing.  The pain had started to fade, leaving a “hangover” of disorientation and fuzziness, but she convinced me the hotel stay, and getting away from piles of stuff that screamed for attention, would be relaxing.  So I threw some clothes into a bag, and “toys” – knitting, book on CD, Nook, journal, and laptop into my backpack - and ended up in New York City four hours later.
*  At the recommendation of the concierge, we walked two blocks to San Martin, which turned out to have the best Italian food I’ve ever put in my mouth.  A cute, short, round-ish waiter, with twinkling eyes behind black-framed glasses, stopped abruptly at our table, gazed raptly into my face, took my hand, and asked, in a thick Italian accent, “Are you married or single?”  When I said, “single,” he stepped back, astonishment in those twinkling eyes, placed his hand over his heart, and then bent down to kiss me on both cheeks.  Now that’s something to make a girl’s day! 

*  A sound night’s sleep, without Emma hogging the bed, worked wonders.  Now Ann is off at her workshop and I’m wishing I hadn’t promised to meet her at the Museum of Modern Art when they break for lunch.  I know.  Here I am in the heart Manhattan, with Radio City Music Hall and Central Park within walking distance, sitting in my pajamas writing to you, my faithful readers.  Be that as it may, the defining description of this brief get-away was relaxation.  Walking the streets here (figuratively speaking) is NOT relaxing.  Our window has a view of Lex – as the natives call it – and I’m perfectly content to experience honking traffic and bumper car-pedestrians from the peace of the 8^th floor.  How else could I observe that 99.9% of the cars are either black, yellow (taxis), silver/gray, or white?  Besides, you might recall from an earlier post that three of my goals for a new job were: 1) a small town; 2) a lower cost of living; and 3) no manic traffic racing to an imaginary finish line. Manhattan does not qualify.  
*  However, since spending time with Ann was the motivation for taking myself out of migraine-induced bed rest, I overcame profound inertia, dressed, and set forth for MOMA.

*  The weather was cool, but sunny: a beautiful early-spring day.  The Saturday traffic – foot and wheel – was light, and the views of Manhattan’s architectural (and retail) celebrities were delightful.  Having decided to leave my real camera at home, I pulled out my trusty iPhone and snapped away.  Some of the photos are even reasonably decent.  After a fascinating lunch (the most unusual menu, with the most unheard of food and styles of preparation), Ann went off to her afternoon session and I headed for RCMH.

We got to see the building from top to bottom, and we even talked to a real live Rockette!  Fortunately for you, I don't remember any of the details - weight of the curtain, number of visitors each year, how many sections of the stage rise and sink.  Here's a photo of the hall in preparation for the Christmas Pageant - and one of the hydraulic system that works the stage.

I wove a haphazard route back to the hotel, and happened to come across the tiny Fire Department of New York (FDNY) museum.  What a treat!  There was the front half of a real pumper truck, authentic jackets and fire extinguishers, and, of course, the requisite souvenirs.  I bought a miniature ladder truck for my special Air Force fireman friend, SMSgt Kirk.  While I was looking at the displays, the woman who’d been behind the counter, Donnette, came over to chat. She asked me if I’d like to put on one of the jackets, which was stained with soot.  Not surprisingly, we started talking about the attack on the World Trade Center.  Donnette lives half a mile from where it was, and she was sleeping when the first plane hit.  It woke her up, but she thought she’d been dreaming.  When she went to the window, she saw the second plane fly into the tower.  She had been there just two weeks earlier. It was one of those magic encounters when you meet someone you’d like to know better.  

*  And oh, the Russian Tea Room!  Wow!!!!!

The winner of "most expensive wine" was something foreign and barely pronounceable, but I could easily read the price: $7,500.  I ordered a starter of three types of caviar on blinis and cream cheese – white fish, salmon, and trout.  Ann’s choice for an entree was Chicken Kiev and I had Boeuf Stroganoff.  When they were placed in front of us, the waiter made the first cut into the Kiev, which she did with much ceremony, so the heated butter inside wouldn't splash onto Ann.  Since one of Ann’s sessions was about our relationship to food and the importance of savoring it without the distractions of reading or television, we practiced doing that.  We didn't even talk very much.  Um um good! At 8:30, Ann went back to the workshop and I decided to explore a bit.  

*  The night was on the balmy side, and I was glad I hadn't worn my wool coat.  After stopping to browse through the M&M store (more crowded than the sidewalks), I moseyed to Times Square.  Is the present perfect tense of agog, “agoggling?”  That’s what I stood there doing, making 360-degree turns, dazzled by the glaring lights and twenty-foot high electronic images of must-have products that would confer glamor were one to purchase them.

A photo shoot was set up on a point of median: a bright yellow taxi (not one “that took away my old man”), lights, a camera track, a tent for the “talent,” and about 20 people standing around not doing anything - except standing around, that is.  I stood across the street next to a covered bus stop to stay out of the way of pedestrians, and a man next to me said that they had done multiple “takes” of a model sitting in and then stepping out of the taxi.  After seeing this for myself, I looked at him and shrugged, and then left the scene (pun intended).

As I told Ann, other than seeing Yul Brynner in The King and I on Broadway in 1977, this was the best of my five or six trips to New York City.  FAB!!!  That’s not superlative enough; suffice it to say that I'm glad I was able to go.

*   But back to the leave-taking process…

Last week, twenty-six of my office friends put on a heart-warming farewell luncheon for me.

We went to Mama Stella's, a small neighborhood restaurant near the base. Maj Betancourt (handing me the card) and Terry Ard (in my choke hold) planned and executed it beautifully! They brought flowers and two framed plaques.  After my boss presented one, I delivered my "speech," which I'd typed in size 36 font so I could read it without my glasses (ah, vanity!). When I've "said a few words" in the past, I always forget the really great things I want to say, so I decided to read between ad-libbing...or ad-lib between reading.  Everyone laughed in the right places, the food was delicious, and a good time was had by all!

*******
Now that you know that next week is “it,” you’re probably even more aghast that I’m not home in the final throes of preparation.  

But if you’ve been reading my posts, you’ll have learned that this move, and my life, has been charmed since I got the e-mail telling me that I’d been selected for the position at Lajes.  Every day has brought an instance of serendipitously perfect timing and wonderfully supportive friends and strangers.  Catherine flew up in February.  We got a lot done and had fun in the process.  By the time she left, though, she was sure looking forward to being back with her Andy-man!

Hope (daughter of Ann) has put jewelry into hanging bags with many plastic pockets, taken Oriental rugs, the vacuum cleaner, and the sewing machine to be cleaned.  She has also taken pictures off walls and pulled out nails and hangers.
Everyone in my immediate vicinity is at the ready with pep talks at the slightest evidence that last minute stress is threatening to overshadow my excitement.

I’m confident this pre-adventure adventure will continue to be charmed.  Onward with ease and excitement!