I'm back! It's raining wildly outside, but it's hot and dry in here. You would think that would be good, but I miss being able to watch the rain come down and huddle on the couch with a blanket. Yesterday, it never got below 70 in the apartment, even though the heat was set on 60. It's humid here, but nothing like Georgia. My lips are chapped, my hands are dry, my nose is stuffy. My body will adjust.
It had rained in Athens for about 3 weeks, every day. Sometimes it was overcast and misty, sometimes it poured. I emptied the 6 inch rain gauge twice. The ground was soggy. Once when I looked out, the driveway was a sheet of water. There were streams everywhere when we went for a walk. I could hear the river roaring and the dog seemed nervous, although we are very safe from flooding where our house is.
The day I flew to Boston was gray and cold. I had emailed the shuttle company for a reservation (with a gift certificate I had gotten at a fundraising auction), but never heard back. Although I was mostly ready ahead of time, there were still some shoes I wanted to stuff in somewhere and the food I was taking for the trip, the heavy coat, gloves, hats, and scarves...to somehow fit into the three suitcases and the purse...
We were not early...the van was there. I went in and gave the man my name and showed him my letter, but he said there were no seats. Another (young) woman was waiting already. She had missed the earlier shuttle. We hoped that two of the reservations would not show up. Otherwise, I could still make my flight if I took the next shuttle. It was also full, but there was always a chance.
The young woman was a Geology graduate student that I had met and Ray knew. She is from Madagascar. I'll call her V...I can't pronounce her name and don't know how to spell it. She has a slightly British-sounding accent, but her English is very good. She was in a panic, had to make a 1:00 flight and couldn't wait for the next shuttle. "I'll have to drive," she said. "In that case, I'll go with you," I answered..."if that's all right." She was clearly distressed. "Do you have a GPS? I don't know if my car can make it," she worried. Ray and I quickly hatched a plan. "You drive me to our house and we'll take our Prius. You can leave your car there and Ray will meet you when you come back. I have driven to the airport many times. We'll be fine." Of course, driving to the Atlanta airport in the rain under stressful conditions is not something I really wanted to do, but it seemed like the best option for me and the only option for her. So that's what happened. Except that she was in charge of telling me what my phone said, and I am in the habit of ignoring the phone when I know what I'm doing, and the phone changed the route to go through Atlanta, which I was trying to avoid, so it took a little longer and was a little more stressful than it should have been.
In the meantime, Ray booked a parking place for me at the Holiday Inn. The question was should I take her to the airport and then go park and get myself back in time for my flight at 1:35 or should we park the car and go together on the van to the airport? It seemed to take forever to get to the Holiday Inn and the next shuttle was at noon. We had time to park and fill out paperwork and go to the bathroom and get all the luggage ready. The driver was dawdling...but we got there. I hope she made her flight without too much more stress. We dropped her off at Delta and went around to Southwest for me. I rented a cart for my three bags for $5, pushed it across the road to the check in counter, and then abandoned it. My boarding pass was supposed to be in my email, but it wasn't. I hadn't checked, because it had worked for me before, but the woman was nice enough to look it up and print it. The bags were all small enough to check, so I didn't have to worry about that.
I was trying a new system, which involved not carrying the giant LL Bean boat bag my mother gave me years ago. I always take it on trips. It's tough as nails, no sign of wear, except I could probably wash it. I keep it packed and standing by, with things like candy and earbuds and books...It's always too heavy to carry, mostly because of my laptop. I can't imagine checking the computer, so it has to come in carry on. This time I used a small wheeled suitcase for my carry on, plus a purse. Southwest lets me check two bags for free! That meant I could bring Molli some things, like her teakettle and some cushions for the couch. I couldn't easily carry the two bags plus the rolling one and the purse, though. In the car, I found a small folding umbrella that I definitely wanted to bring, and a bag, one that I kept a few papers in for my work. I ditched the papers and stuffed my purse, the umbrella, the food (quiche, grapes), and the gloves in the slightly larger bag and I was set. Still had the coat, sometimes on, sometimes over my arm.
I bought a stromboli at Famiglia and had time to eat it sitting down before we boarded. I couldn't get the box to the trash without leaving my bags unattended, and you know what the TSA says about that. I will be more tolerant now of trash I find at the airport.
As a single traveler, it is usually easy to get a good seat. The Southwest system is interesting and pretty smart. I don't have an assigned seat. I always forget that I should check in as early as possible, because the boarding order is according to when you check in (unless you pay extra). The first people on generally fill in the window and aisle seats from the front to the back. I could have gone all the way to the back to see if there were any more of those available. Or I could sit in a middle seat very near the front...which is what I did. Of course, I had to get my wheeled bag in the overhead bin (just barely fit) and the man at the aisle had to get out. My seat mates gave off a faint vibe of displeasure, like if I didn't sit in that seat, it might stay empty. We know every seat is full almost always these days. They got over it.
A direct flight from Atlanta to Boston is quite quick. We were in mist and clouds almost the whole way. I put my phone in airplane mode, refusing to pay the $2 for internet access (or whatever), and edited my contacts. I have a lot of names from years gone by, starting with when I had my own business. It is hard for me to delete their information...you never know. Other names come from social work jobs...getting those phone numbers of people who can really help was so useful, even though I don't think I'll ever need them, and they might not still be good...I have trouble deleting them. Also, my phone does a weird thing. I wonder if other people have the same experience. Many of the photos are wrong. I'll say, "who is Denise Carrington? I don't remember that name...hmm, looks like my sister...it is my sister! well, her photo anyway..." Then I can either delete the whole thing or delete the photo. I don't know if it will creep back or not.
As we came down to the landing strip, the sun shone on us! It was really pleasant. Of course, it was dark by the time we came out of the terminal, because the sun sets so much earlier here in the Northeast. No problems getting my luggage. My sweet daughter met me to help carry it (of course, some of it was for her). I love being able to take the train everywhere. In this case, I didn't even have to pay. You can take the train for free from the airport. It was a long ride, and a crowded, almost rush hour train, but we sat and talked all the way. It's about a half mile walk from the Harvard Square stop to Molli's apartment, but it wasn't too cold and it wasn't raining!
Tamara was at school, in the last week of rehearsals for the musical, which opens Friday! She got done about 10, but I was asleep by then. I unpacked everything and Molli fed me leftovers from "Friendsgiving" last Saturday: roast chicken with gravy, sweet potato and squash, and a piece of pumpkin pie she had saved me. We watched a little TV and I knit some on her (last year's) sweater. She picked out a few books for me and I read a bit, then fell asleep in a comfortable bed with clean sheets she had made up for me.
Yesterday morning, I was up before 4...must do something about getting my internal clock fixed! There were a couple English muffins, yogurt and fruit and peanut butter she had bought for me. And tea. Eventually Tamara got up, said hello, walked the dog, and rushed to school, where she has begun eating breakfast lately, with friends. Molli rebuffed my friendly greeting: "you're too excited about the morning." She did join me briefly at the breakfast table, as I applied to a couple interesting part-time jobs.
I walked her to the bus stop and went back into the apartment (she had given me her keys). I spent a little more time researching job possibilities...one part-time database manager for an organization helping children in Tanzania! It feels good to think there are so many options here...of course, there are more applicants too! Then I took my shower, got dressed, and walked down to the UU Church in Harvard Square, First Parish.
It is a big old stone church...I must take some pictures. I love the feeling of being "in" history. They were doing some work on the street and I had to go around. Because it's the city, I had to ring a buzzer for them to let me in. I reminded Carol, the secretary, who I was (Patty from Georgia) and set my things down in the huge, high-ceilinged hall. There are built-in benches with leather-covered seat cushions under a bay window and in the corner. No one was around, but the bread and peanut butter and jelly were set up.
Soon Louise came in. She is in her late 70s I think. I can't remember all the details of her life that I learned in September, but I think her husband died a while ago and she lives alone. She is flying up to Detroit this week to visit a nephew in Ann Arbor and was worrying about whether she could wear "sweat pants" on the plane. Her sweat pants are nicer than any that I have. She talked about finding her mother's stash of Twinkies when she died. Jane arrived a little later. She may be slightly younger, but they have clearly known each other a long time...and their families. We made sandwiches and chatted (I mostly listened) until the smoke alarm went off. I could see smoke in the kitchen and the cook was clearly not worried. We all had to gather our coats and things and leave the building... About 10 people came down the stairs and out of the rooms and stood on the steps. The fire engines came with their sirens...I got the feeling this happens a lot. I checked with the cooks and it seemed they had everything under control, so I decided I didn't need to stay. They asked if I would be back next Tuesday and I said I didn't know. "I'll be in Cambridge, and if they don't need me to sub, I'll probably be here."
I headed back through Harvard and spent some time at the Farmers' Market. Only about 10 vendors this time, probably dwindles with the season. I compared prices a couple places and bought some Macintosh apples (my favorite!) and broccoli, as well as a nice Rye bread...and a donut from the Union Square stand. It wasn't a lot, but carrying anything, while wearing a coat, gets tiring after a while.
Back at the apartment, I heated up a couple pieces of spinach quiche I had brought from Athens, ate them and an apple. I reluctantly got ready to go out again. It wasn't very cold, but overcast and seemed to threaten rain. I reorganized what I had in my bag to include a small umbrella and leave behind everything I could do without. I checked my route on the appropriate app, and headed out.
At the end of Molli's block (the long way), and around the corner, is a bus stop. I waited there almost 20 minutes. I think the regulars (like Molli) check on the buses and see if they are on time before leaving. She arrives with less than a minute to spare. I am not yet that blase and would rather wait a while than take a chance on missing it.
I put my ticket in the machine, but there was only 40 cents left on it. I fed a dollar in and he said that was enough (it's supposed to be 2.10, but I think they hate to make change). Watched the buildings go by for a while and glanced at my phone some. At Sullivan Square, I got out. With a card, transfers are free, but I had to pay again. This time I fed two dollars in and the driver said not to worry about the rest.
My fingerprint appointment was in Everett, partly because I wanted to see the area. Under the heavy gray skies, it was not very appealing, although not really run down. Big, multi-family houses line Broadway, with a nail salon and a Dairy Maid and other small businesses occasionally fitting in. There is a triangle with a bandstand and flowers and a sign that says Everett where I got off. I walked down the hill about a block before figuring out I was going the wrong way and turning around. Back up the hill was a little less pleasant. Yes, there was Mason Street, just a little past where I had gotten off the bus.
The building was not very impressive. I went in a small screen door on the side to find a few chairs, a copy machine, and a couple women. "Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?" "Well, yes, but I think it's later." "Your name?" She checked list and found me, introduced herself and asked me to wait. "We'll fit you in if we have a gap between appointments." The other woman was called and it wasn't long before she finished. It seemed that 15 minutes was more than enough between customers. Katherine, I think she said her name was, invited me back, making pleasant conversation meant to relax me. No ink pads, only a machine with little glass panes. She directed me as which fingers to put where and when, applying pressure and rolling them. She gave me a little receipt and told me the results would be sent to the school in a few weeks. (I didn't ask why it would take so long. I guess they have to check them against the criminal registries, but even so...how long can it take?)
So I had a couple hours with no obligations. I had wanted to spend time in Everett, but it seemed I had seen what there was to see, more or less. I walked a few stops back toward home before getting on the bus again. I didn't have two dollars, and the driver couldn't change a twenty. I offered him one, but he advised me to get a Charlie card. Each ride is cheaper that way and you get free transfers. I said it's really hard to find them. He said he usually carried a couple extras and that some employee would probably have one.
When I got off in Sullivan Square, I went to the machines there and bought a ticket, but you can't get a car there and I didn't see any employees. I had about 15 minutes before my bus, so I looked around a bit, but there wasn't much there, without going in the subway (and using my ticket). I found a man sitting in a booth marked First Aid and asked where the 89 was. He directed me. When I asked, he said you could only buy Charlie cards in Boston.
I got off the bus near the Whole Foods store to pick up some ingredients. It was a little walk to the store and a longer walk home from there. I tried to limit myself to the most urgent items in the smallest quantities. My shoulders and back just don't hold up. I like the Whole Foods, although it was pretty crowded at this time of day, and it's not cheap. I chatted with a cheese man from France, who told me that authentic Quiche Lorraine has no cheese in it. I had not heard that before. He is from Brittany.
Trudging home in the almost dark, I texted with Molli about dinner. I could make sweet potato-black bean hash (it's pretty yummy) or we could go out. The last time I was here, we almost never went out to eat. Tamara would be rehearsing again until late, so the two of us could enjoy a treat. At the apartment, I put things away and rested for a bit before putting on my shoes and coat and heading to the restaurant. I walked more miles yesterday than Ray did! No lasting damage, just tired and a little achy.
When I got to Boston, it was still light out, but the sun had gone down before I left the terminal with my luggage. No checked bags this time, just a (large) purse and a rolling suitcase. I could do with even less if it weren't for carrying my laptop back and forth. It's really too heavy to carry by hand--the reason I switched from my beloved boat bag to the rolling case. I also brought the menorah, so I could celebrate Hanukah with Molli and Tamara here. 
How much do I love my job here? How secure is it? Are they likely to keep me on, increase my pay? How lonely will I be, spending the majority of my time in a tiny apartment by myself? Or will I love it? Is it time to be a grown up? I know I will miss the natural spaces around my house, and the beautiful house itself, not to mention the company of my devoted husband and many friends.
