The funny bits of getting old

I’m the sort of person who accidentally puts two lids on a take-out coffee and doesn’t notice. I wonder if my coworker noticed?

I’ve always been like this, but it’s not getting any better with age.

Update about Robert

I know you are all wondering how Robert is doing, and I’m sorry to only have more extremely sad news.

Robert has quit going to all medical appointments and has cut himself off from his family. He is not responding to any attempts to contact him. His parents finally had to request a police welfare check. He was, at that time (about a week ago), still alive.

We are all so helpless. I’ve encouraged the kids to continue to reach out to Kristy (Robert’s mom) because right now they’re the only kids she’s got. I don’t even feel like I can do that, because I’m just her husband’s ex.

It makes me cry every time I think about it.

The 2-house problem

A few weekends ago I had a short bout of fairly bad depression (I cried for about 4 days). A couple of things have come out of that. First, I’ve been exercising more, which definitely helps. Secondly, John has come up with a potential improvement to the 2-house problem. It’s not a perfect solution. There is no perfect solution because our jobs are 70 miles apart.

Earlier this fall I was looking for houses near the river in Albuquerque. The river valley is the most beautiful area of New Mexico, in my opinion. It’s green in the spring and summer, and in the fall the trees are beautiful. Those areas are within a short commuting distance from John’s job, but is too far for me to commute to my current job. I would have to find a new job.

I feel confident about my ability to find a new job, but I like my current job. And I also feel a certain responsibility to my team. And I’ve had a lot of jobs I haven’t liked. I know I can find a job, but can I find another job I like?

So now John is advocating an area called Eldorado. It’s a flat, brown, desert mesa outside of Santa Fe. He likes it because there’s long walking trails that we appreciate for jogging, dog walking, and biking. Also it’s rural; most of the roads are dirt, and the lot sizes are mostly 1-2 acres. Eldorado is actually a lot like Placitas except flatter, and it doesn’t have the big expensive homes. It’s an affordable section of Santa Fe because there’s no trees; it’s not in the foothills to the east of Santa Fe, nor is it close-in near the Old Town Plaza where all the rich celebrities with big second homes want to be.

Here’s an example of how Eldorado looks from above:

In contrast, here’s how the North Valley and Corrales looks along the river;

Here’s a random screenshot of Eldorado in google street view. Of course that’s summertime; the absolute greenest it gets. It’s just all brown now.

I don’t find it inspiring, but the main problem is that Eldorado is 70 miles from where John works. At first he was thinking he could do that commute, and I’m like, no. Hell no. That’s almost 3 hours on the freeway each day. There’s no way. He’s going to need to have somewhere to stay in Albuquerque for mid-week.

If we do still need to have 2 houses, we have realized it makes more sense for the main house to be near my job than near his. For one thing, he is more comfortable with a certain amount of commuting than I am. He also lives out of a suitcase better than I do. I seem to think I need an entire closetful of clothes, matching shoes, matching jewelry, matching scarves, and matching coats for the week, and I’m still missing things. I also seem to need an entire kitchen full of fresh organic food and multiple small kitchen appliances. He eats cereal with sunflower butter.

So we’re thinking that if we can get his vehicles and garage tools into the same house as my wardrobe and kitchen gadgets, we’ll actually feel like we’re living together. Unfortunately, when buying my townhome in Santa Fe, it didn’t occur to me to prioritize garage space. So that’s where Eldorado comes in. Lots of space to park the boat, the camper van, the 4Runner, the old truck, and the Mini, and all the mysterious stuff that’s in his garage in Placitas.

I still just want to move to Mexico, but he is not currently taking me seriously when I say that. I’m probably not taking myself seriously when I say that either. We can’t afford to retire in this country and move to Austin or Tucson or somewhere warm and be done with the rat race. The main problem is that his pension doesn’t come with medical coverage. And medical is such a wild card in the US. You can’t budget for it.

Funny poems from New Yorker

When Are You Planning to Turn Off Your Kindle?

They say love is light.
I think they do.
I’m not really sure.
I might have heard that in a Subaru commercial.

The point is that I see your light right now.
And I wish I didn’t.
Because I’m really tired.
And I had a long day.
And I have to get up early tomorrow.
All of which you know.

Another thing they say is that a man can know something but forget it almost instantly.
Like a goldfish.
I sigh the sigh I sigh when I’m annoyed.
But you don’t hear me.
Because you have earbuds in.
And are watching what appears to be a video of people bodysurfing on pudding.
And here I thought you were reading a book.

Maybe love is like light.
In that it can fade.
Seriously. Would it kill you to watch that in the bathroom?

Orgy

Autumn.
Overcast and cool.
Woodsmoke-scented air.
Leaves in the yard.

We decided to go out back
among the tall hedgerows to rake and bag the leaves.

You said, in a very sexy voice,
“We’re out of garbage bags.”
And in your shrugging I might have seen
your breasts move,

Had they not been covered by
your fleece sweatshirt,
your work shirt,
and your T-shirt.

“Well, I’m going in,” you said.
Later, we heated up Dinty Moore beef stew
and then you went to bed.
I watched half a Jason Bourne movie.

Did I say orgy?
Sorry, my mind wandered.
I meant yard work.

Date Night

Who are you . . .
What?
. . . texting. I was just wondering . . .
Sorry. What?
You’re texting and I just . . .
Client. Wait. They’re changing a . . .
What?
Meeting. Tomorrow now.
Oh, O.K. Well, I guess I’ll check . . .
Done. So, who are you . . .
One second. Sorry. Fuck.
Work?
What?
Is it work?
Wait. I told them where the file was.
Who?
What?
Nothing.
Damn it. It’s on the thumb drive. They know that . . .
What is?
What?
Nothing.
This restaurant is nice.
What?

Is This the Right Time for That?

Standing at the door
ready to go,
tapping my foot.
(We are late for my sister’s surprise party.)
I turn and see you
in the kitchen,
like a man on a summer afternoon by a lake
casually adjusting a fishing rod.

Only it’s not a fishing rod.
It’s fingernail clippers.
And you are cutting your fingernails
over the sink.
You look up, and perhaps because of the expression on my face
you say, “What?”
It would be impossible for me to explain
if you don’t already understand.

Are You in the Mood?

I am.
Let’s put the kids down.
Have a light dinner.
Shower.
Maybe not drink so much.
And do that thing I would rather do with you than with anyone else.
Lie in bed and look at our iPhones. ♦