Moving

We're moving again. For several years I resisted the very idea of moving, let alone actually looking for a bigger place in which to bring up four young children. I've puzzled that out to a conclusion: I resisted not from sloth or stubborness, but from an exaggerated high regard for making do with what one has. I'm good at that, and weirdly never feel deprived, or poor, or in any way inferior.  And, I've lived on board USA merchant ships, Army barracks, and on the eve of flying from San Francisco to Boston to go to college, having returned from the West coast of South America, I slept in a park on a hill in San Francisco. I do remember a pang or two of shame on that occasion. But, I had to hang on to my money!

So, tomorrow we have an appointment to finalize moving into a much larger place, which has three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. The locale is perfect for our wants. I have everything crossed. And, if it doesn't work out, for whatever reason, at least I'll have up-to-date knowledge of where to look, how much it will cost, and in general I'll have made concrete my (our) plan to move.

Tidbit: the convenient highway nearby, but completely inaudible at the location, used to be called The Santa Monica freeway, and "#10." I now see on the Google map (wow!) that the name has been changed to Rosa Parks freeway. Now, wait a minute, can that really be true? What has Rosa Parks (love her!!) got on Saint Monica!???? Americans tend to be fickle. Ha ha ha ha ha...................

Wish me luck!

Barry

http://journals.aol.com/bbartle3/Vengeance/