A friend from Fairhope emailed me the other day about this blog.
He helped see me off and snapped some pictures trying to capture that "done-with-Fairhope" look. Before I saw the shot, he said I looked like was a "dear in the headlights, sorta."Now I know that was a typographical error. At least I think it was. At any rate, it's a more attractive picture than a deer being stalked and about to meet his maker. A fraught ML, looking over the debris that used to be her home and feeling in her pocket for the airline ticket that will take her away.
At the time I thought my furniture would be in place by now. As it happened, the move took two "pods" rather than one, and the second one is still in Atlanta as far as I know. It's scheduled to be unpacked and delivered to my Hudson Street address Monday morning.
This is awkward, but still, I'm here, I'm learning everything I can about how to navigate in Hoboken when the temperature doesn't go over 30°, learning where things are and how to get them, even though you don't have any cash as all your money is tied up due to various bank regs. (Never fear, plastic's here!)
Yesterday I went to City Hall, an awesome old building in which it's easy to get lost in the maze of staircases, looking for info about public transit. I was directed to NJTransit, which is downtown a few blocks, located in the beautiful old train station. I loved having an excuse to explore the train station -- plus, I did get maps, schedules, and a look at the bus terminal from which buses are dispatched on a regular basis to NYC.
Since I was downtown I decided to look for the Italian deli said to make "the best homemade mozzarella you will ever put in your mouth," a recommendation from that friend I made on the street on my visit in June. The deli was in lunch mode, and the aromas emanating therefrom were heavenly -- if heaven is (which I think perhaps is so) being allowed to eat Italian food for eternity. I asked for homemade mozzarella and the guy said, "Sure," spearing what looked to be the white, cheesey body of a large rabbit and holding it up for me. "This too much? I can cut it for you," he said. Accustomed to the little shrink-wrapped Wisconsin-made knobs of mots I could get in Alabama supermarkets, I was laughing when I asked for half that amount. I could not wait to get it home.
But I had my wits about me enough to ask where I might find the Antique Bakery. The boys behind the counter lit up. "It's just around the corner!" they said, gesturing, Italian-style. I left that place a happy dear (not in the headlights).
At the bakery I bought a loaf of whole-wheat bread, better than I used to make when I lived in Alabama and made my own because it was not available anywhere else.
Lunch from the Soup Man, and home to eat it where I could at least sit down. Then, realizing the PIN number was still at least a day away, I took my plastic eight blocks away to the A & P and bought some $60 worth of basic groceries. I still have $15 cash, and now I have enough food for a week. I hope the PIN number comes in the mail. Today.
1 comment:
Nope, no mistake, dear. Now , about all that eating you seem to be enjoying .... is probably a good thing, the cold as well as the walking, and the three flights of stairs. Our old cat requires more feedings when there is a down turn in the mercury, a cold snap of say 40 degrees or so. He says it takes more calories to stay warm when it's so cold. I can imagine a parcel, seething steam and aroma, being whisked down a frozen street by a dear bearing a glint of gluttony for its consumption....Other than reference to a show tune, much can be said for the phrase, "Food, food, glorious food...."
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