So, we moved out of a big drafty Victorian farmhouse in Delaware to an far smaller adobe in New Mexico because we wanted to get away from the huge winter heating bills. And in Delaware now it's in the seventies, no winter in sight. In New Mexico, by contrast, we have had the worst snow storms in fifty years, along with some of the coldest temps we've experienced since we lived in Massachusetts. (Where it's currently also springlike in temperature.) Our heating bills for this winter promise to be world-class, as adobe walls produce an icecave effect in much of the house, unless we keep the heat at a far higher level than we are wont to, even in the drafty Delaware farmhouse. The presence of over a foot of snow on the roof has revealed the fact that we're probably going to need a new roof. This one has one spectacular leak from which we've spent much of the past weeks bailing water, as well as a smaller one we just discovered yesterday. It's a high price to pay for Southwestern cuteness and charm, and we start right now looking for the neighborhood to which we will move in about a year and a half. Not moving across the country this time, just across town...someplace far newer, less charming, and a good deal more watertight. Global climate change apparently means ferocious summer monsoons and winter blizzards for this part of the world. We bought the first house that appealed to us and was affordable, buying long distance without time to really scope out neighborhoods and shop for a place that we could love longterm. Now that we are here and have a home base, we can really shop for a living space that will make more sense. There are so many areas we like better than the location of this house, with leisure to look and explore I know we'll find the right one for our retirement nest.
Good news on the vision front...at my last doctor's visit she pronounced my corneas almost healed, and was able to refract me into a distance prescription. With my new glasses I can see to drive, am not driven mad in grocery stores, and feel much more confident outside the house, walking and so forth. The next appointment is this coming Friday, when we hope to get me into a close vision prescription, making reading, writing, and computer work no longer painful struggles. This is all such cause for rejoicing,and I am. I have been enjoying the landscapes of extraordinary beauty created by the snowstorms everywhere, as well as deeply welcome company:
My sister from D.C. and her family were here for New Year's weekend, flying in on Friday night amidst great uncertainty, as they had a stopover in Denver. It was touch and go whether they would be stuck in Denver, as both that airport and ours here in Albuquerque were in danger of shutting down entirely. As it was, they made it with long delays, but they made it. And my ten year old niece is the person for whom snowstorms were invented. She had a wonderful time making snow...balls, angels, and people, and tromping through snow up to her knees at the Rio Grande Nature Center on their last day here. When she was not getting totally wet and snow-encrusted, she was sprawled on her bed reading a Harry Potter. Oblivious to leaking roofs and the need to get to the grocery store in order to feed guests, she enjoyed every moment of what was a great inconvenience to most adults. With my better eyes and new glasses, I was able to drive our guests to Santa Fe last Tuesday, where the streets and sidewalks were far worse than here. They'd never been there, so even in its ice-encrusted form they had a great time. And I never would have made it through "the holidays" without their visit. I am trying to sound hopeful, trying to focus on what is improving in my life, but most of the time I just feel as if I have been flung from a high cliff onto jagged rocks: broken, sad, and lost. As soon as my close vision is taken care of I need to start looking for a job - something I both look forward to and a bhore. I want to get out of this house, out of my own head and heart, but I really don't feel that I can function in any normal fashion. Even though I'm not supposed to cry, because of the toxcicity of my tears and the possible damage to my eyes, it's all I really want to do, and sometimes there is nothing else for it, I cry.
Now I am waiting for roofers to come offer diagnoses and estimates, while Gail goes off to work, and we move into a new year, with hope for much kinder and gentler times ahead.
