Pedalpushing

Part of the Cape’s great appeal to me is the weather:  the gorgeously clear days and moderate temperatures are intoxicating to say the least.   I’m not so naive to think that it’s always like that.  There’s the harsh reality of winter and as the saying goes, a little rain must fall in everyone’s life.   But to go from the overwhelming beauty of Atlanta’s almost pornographic Spring to 2 solid weeks of “Foggy and 55” is a bit of downer, to say the least.

Well, this morning the Cape has come through for me in spades.  Sunny, clear and 65, there’s  a cool breeze blowing through my tiny apartment.  The harbor is its familiar azure blue, not a roiling mass of angry white caps.  I can see across to Wellfleet and Truro.

The town is deceptively still, awaiting the first crush of the season, appropriately called Baby Dyke Weekend.  Imagine 10,000 22-year old Massachusetts lesbians, fresh off their spring semester at Junior College, ready to get their party on.  This is the only time in 12 years of coming here that I’ve seen fights on Commercial St — girl-on-drunken-girl brawls usually involving some infidelity and at least a 12-pack of Milwaukee’s finest.   Oy.

So, I’ll take the good with the bad.   I’ve got friends from Atlanta arriving tomorrow (male and female) and although I have to work, I’m looking forward to the flurry of activity the weekend will bring.   Let’s start the summer, y’all!!

Ch, Ch, Ch Changes

So, I quit my job of 19 years, leased the house and moved to Provincetown.

That sounds rediculously easy and in some senses it was.  But the decision to leave Atlanta, my chosen family there, two decades of history and community and close proximity to my aging parents was not at all taken lightly.  The idea of spending at least the summers, or even a single summer, here on the end of the Cape has been in my head since my first visit here in 2000.   Former readers and anyone who knows me will know that this place has struck a deep and instant sense of home with me.   Just when I think I have it figured out, the Vortex springs another surprise, some new hidden treasure or gem of a person and I’m flabbergasted.

So a slowly deteriorating job situation (mostly by my own doing, I’ve since realized), smart financial planning and the impetus of other friends making the move got me thinking.  And acting.  The last piece of the puzzle to fall into place was leasing my beloved house on 5th Street.  When the couple who are now tenants said they wanted to rent, I was almost physically ill.  I felt as if I was giving away a child.  But I did it – signed the lease on Sunday and resigned on Monday.

That 100-year old house in Midtown is a gift from God, I believe.  Something greater than myself to which I am beholden.  It has enabled so much in my life, including this move.   I don’t normally put much stock in such talk, but I think that house has a spirit, a soul, that has given so much to me:  laughter, shelter, nourishment, inspiration, friendship, challenge, prosperity and much, much more.

So here I am.  In Provincetown.  At the end of Cape Cod.  Looking out to sea, but really looking west.  Not sure about what’s coming tomorrow or even in 20 minutes.   The possibilities are endless for one of the precious few times in my life.   It  feels good.  It’s scary as hell.   I’m paralyzed and highly motivated.

Here we go.

The View From Here

So, here I am, blogging again.  Lots has changed.  Lots.  Be patient and I’ll tell the story.