Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

Two and half weeks ago, the four of us arrived safely in Louisville. While our Dog ponders when we will actually go back home, our Cat has embraced the entire adventure. Despite having many comfortable places to sleep, she has taken up residence in, of course, a moving box.

The unpacking task feels endless, and we need some electrical work done before the computer room/work space is fully functional. The laundry room finally gets hooked up today.

Three out of four of the Beloved’s Brothers have already been to visit, as have her Parents, niece and nephews. A San Francisco friend will be passing through in a week. Visitors, family always welcome here. A needed break from the unpacking.

In order to transfer my driver’s license, I need a social security card, so a replacement card is in order. When-oh-when was the last time I saw or used my SSN card? Thirty years ago maybe? Oh dear. Once the plumber has left, off to the SSN office I go.

I’ve never lived in a place where the neighbors actually knocked on the door and said things like, “Welcome,” and invited us out to dinner. In San Francisco, we knew our neighbors, ate dinner with them. It took many months for that to happen, however. Our SF next door neighbor hopes another nice lesbian couple buys our house. And now that we are gone, we hear we were the “most loved couple” on our block. A mythology begins!

I have dropped the word “normal” from my vocabulary. Chaos is the word of my days.

We’ve carved out some sanity AKA “A Box Free Zone” in the kitchen. I take much solace in the morning coffee and New York Times.

Last week, at 6 AM, we snuck into Churchill Downs to watch the horses work out. The Beloved is expert at looking like she belongs wherever she has crashed. For a good forty-five minutes, it was just us in the stands watching the horses on the track, and that was, well, cool.

In my Western world, horse racing is not meant to be as dignified as it is here. And at the other extreme, it is not meant to be an amateur drinking event. There is much for this Californian to adjust to.

These last few weeks mark the longest period, some ten years or so, I have not been putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard. Writing. Working on a play.

Last week, a new play idea took root. Today, I’ll finally turn my attention to the play I began last year and have not yet finished.

And did I mention the birds? Always singing here. In quantities so unlike my San Francisco backyard, where I had one hummingbird (sometimes two), a handful of Chickadees, a blue jay, a occasional Junco, some seagulls, and always a murder of crows.

We love our new home. A block from the park, although the neighborhood feels like a park to this SF transplant. Both Cat and Dog have discovered the colony of squirrels.

This morning, a Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, three Robins, a plethora of house sparrows, four Northern Cardinals, and many as yet to be identified feathered creatures.