A whole year and change later and here I am, still knocking around the planet. Not around much: traveling gives me the pip. Probably because I expect it to, but I have to say I like the NY subways even less than the SF BART, which I don't like at all. Though coming home from the Taylor/King concert on a train full of Birkenstocks, bright pashminas and grey heads was a hoot.
A year ago I was still working. Stopping the daily commute and the dead hours spent trying to fool my computer into coughing up a solitaire program so I didn't have to waste so much time on the real estate ads on craigslist was a genius move, if I do congratulate myself. Now I give some time to Friends of the Library and do whatever else I want. Often not much, since there are books to read. Not working is bliss. I am less and less inclined to structure my time, with exceptions for Afro-Cuban dance class and Friday morning coffee with the friends from Curves (!) who hate FitLite as much as I do. Am I useful? Hardly, but sometimes amusing.
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