Flux

The only regret I have about leaving Milwaukee is that I don't miss it more.

I do miss it a great deal, especially the 2/$4 bags of Red Hot Blues organic tortilla chips at the Metro Market, or the best tuna sandwich ever (!) at the Pfister hotel, or the view I had of the city from my 6th story gym. But I wish I missed it more. I didn't take nearly enough advantage of the city while I was there. Whether that was from sheer bashfulness, or paranoia, I'm not sure, but there is many a sidewalk that did not benefit from my feet. And leaving on the eve of Summerfest was certainly a cruel twist of fate that should have me sighing more often than I do.

Oh well. I guess I'll just have to go back. But in the short time I was there, I did love it, and that's something saying about a city you live in completely, utterly, on your own.

Meanwhile, the times (and the house, and the car, and the lives) they are a-changin'. We bid a fond and sad farewell to our big black car. My mom actually sat in it for half an hour before letting it go into the hands of its capable (and familiar, so we'll be able to visit it) new owners. I have trouble trolling for books to read during quiet afternoon lapses in packing because most, if not all, of my readable books are packed away in layers of cardboard and stacked in strange piles in our unnervingly empty garage. The cabinets are slowing yielding their contents and not getting replenished. We clean our house frantically for complete strangers to traipse through in fifteen minute intervals, breaking our necks to get the last specks of dirt off the ceiling fans before realtors unlock our doors, usher in prospective buyers, and proceed to judge our abode. It's sad.

China, you better be worth it.