Convinced my son Matty already had plenty of “stuff,” I decided on an experience rather than a wrapped gift for his high school graduation present. So I told Matty that I was taking him to admire the most beautiful art in the world, eat the most delicious food on the planet, and shop for the most fashionable clothing on Earth. And he screamed, “Oh my God Mom, we’re going to Paris?!” Yes, we were indeed going to Paris.
So we were walking around the 3rd arrondissement one sunny afternoon on our way to my favorite store in the Marais, Merci, which sells funky housewares, cool bedding, arty vases, nail polish, indie clothes, and more, whilst discussing which museum to visit the next day. And at that exact moment we passed a huge billboard for the Picasso Museum. So I stopped, looked up, pointed, and said, “Look Matty, it’s a SIGN!” And he laughed and quipped back, “Yeah, Mom. It’s JUST a sign.” (Maybe you had to be there to get the joke.)
I loved the movie Singles when Bridget Fonda threw cards (tissues? paper??) into the garbage and negotiated with herself that if she made it into the trash, he’d call, or she’d call or something magical would happen with the guy she had a crush on. (Ok, it was almost 30 years ago, and I don’t remember the specifics except she was sitting on the floor in the scene, and I thought, I do that, too!) If the commercial ends now, I’ll shower but if it doesn’t I’ll wait. If there is no Rocky Road at the grocery store, the universe is telling me to not have ice cream today. I’m a regular at this and other stupid Jedi mind tricks I play on myself. And I always look for signs that the universe is trying to tell me something, especially when I’m undecided.
Currently the big game is Stay or Go. My apartment is listed, and I know the smart thing to do is to move! My job is remote (OMG– I said my JOB! Yay!) and I can live anywhere since I’ll be traveling a bunch soon anyway. My real estate taxes are going up again this year (ugh) and I’d be happy to be gone before they do. Both of my parents are in Florida (and we’d be neighbors-ish). And all of a sudden there is serious foot traffic through my not so humble abode. So I’m looking for signs and I saw these…
As I write this, sirens are blaring from outside and visible soot is collecting on my windowsill as cool spring air drifts delightfully into my sun filled bedroom. The marble droppers upstairs went full hog a short while ago with scraping furniture and a clog finale that could end up ousting the Rockettes (I should submit their resume). So I guess those signs mean Go! Not yet– but soon it will be go-time. Until then I’m going to work on a love letter to New York so that when the time comes to pack up, I’ll be able to say my goodbyes without fumbling at the microphone. (I have an ugly cry anyway so it’s best to rehearse my final number.) I hope the sign at my new place say “welcome!”
jenslittleblackbook.com 