We’re official Floridians now, having obtained our new driver’s licenses and license plates last week. Since for some reason we got our Virginia licenses back (minus corners to avoid that whole identity theft thing) I was comparing my two portraits. I look remarkably grim in my Virginia photo, mainly because one isn’t allowed to smile. Seriously. Damn terrorists. The hangover from which I was suffering at the time, a common occurrence back then, didn’t help. One can smile in Florida, though, and so I did. Combined with my pink t-shirt and the colorful background print, it’s the most cheerful driver’s license I’ve ever owned.
At Mr. Mandalay’s behest I took a selfie later than day, sporting my black-banded fake straw sun hat and my bitchen Ray-Bans. I normally avoid being photographed except for things like driver’s licenses, but since my license picture turned out so well I was feeling vain. It was strange to see myself looking so … happy. And photogenic, enough so that I made the photo my Facebook profile picture. Immediately I got responses: Continue reading “Ten Days In: The Florida Edition”
Over the past year I was getting up at an insane hour of the morning–I think you’d agree that two-fifteen a.m. is insane–to write or edit or piddle around, usually the latter. Work started at six, and it was almost inevitable that by six-thirty I’d be yawning my head off and resisting the urge to lean back in my comfortable high-backed chair for a quick nap.
I knew that I would still be waking up at the crack of ungodly for a while after my farewell to Ginormocorp. So there I was last Monday, in my little reading/work nook in my bedroom, being productive for once and tapping away at my laptop when the yawns and heavy eyelids came. I tried to resist … until I realized that I didn’t have to any longer. So I shut everything down, turned off the lamp, and went back to bed. I woke up a couple of hours later from a quite nice dream.
It was GLORIOUS. Continue reading “Ten Days In”
A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Mandalay and I kicked off the Richmond and Vicinity Farewell Tour by traveling to Williamsburg, which is roughly an hour away from Current House Mandalay. Mr. Mandalay’s parents were married in Bruton Church, which is about the only authentic colonial building in Colonial Williamsburg, and they’re buried a couple of miles from it. We had breakfast at Old Chickahominy House, where we also petted the resident cat, Miss Melinda, and I bought an accent pillow for my bed in its
crack house gift shop. Continue reading “The Crocs of Destiny”
There’s always a sense of unreality when long-awaited plans start coming to fruition. For me, it started in late March when I flew to Orlando to look at houses. As I inspected various properties with a young well-dressed realtor in anxious tow, it hit me–holy shit, we’re actually doing this. I thought it again as we electronically signed the contract to purchase our new home, and again when we closed in early May, our current home already in the disarray that an impending move creates. Continue reading “The Tale of Mandalay, Part Seven: Endgame”
Although we hail from dissimilar backgrounds, Mr. Mandalay and I have always complemented each other. We started our journey together back in 1998 with one room, two people and three cats. The rooms have increased, the cats have decreased, but we’re still here. Working at the same office has its benefits, namely easy communication. It has its difficulties as well, namely we’re on the same ship, just different decks. We watched the various “migrations” at Ginormocorp and knew that sooner or later it was going to happen to one of us. Continue reading “The Tale of Mandalay, Part Six: Making Our Own Luck”