If the title of this post isn’t familiar, that’s ok. Not everyone’s a Broadway Broad like me ;). It’s from A Chorus Line, sung as a reminiscence of going through adolescence…but here, I use it to say goodbye to the two last years and hello to 2014, the year I hope to find love, or a good job, or just money. In fact, if I find money–and I’m talkin’ jackpot lotto money here–I won’t need the first two, right?
(This is where I will live when I’m rich, btw)
I can’t even take credit for the use of that line to usher in the new year though, because I saw it on facebook–but isn’t that how we all found out about everything these days?
Anyway, like everyone else on the planet, I’m thinking about the year gone by, and I have to admit that it wasn’t too bad. I rang in 2013 in Dublin, Ireland, on Grafton Street with my son, watching fireworks and trying to believe that I was actually in Dublin on New Year’s Eve with my son! Amazing!
We met a nice young couple from Romania and had coffee and dessert with them–it was so international of us, lol, and really cool. I was in Europe, a place I’d only dreamed about but didn’t know if I’d actually ever see–and here we were. So, yeah, 2013 started with a bang, literally, which was good because the previous year started with a death, and that’s not good at all.
And it didn’t stop there: while my Dad went on Dec. 30; his longtime love, Joann, followed quickly on Feb 1; on March 2, we all lost our very special friend, Aaron. I was so worried about April 3, I told everyone I knew to stay home.
So yes, 2013 started out on a much better note.
There I was, A Broad Abroad, writing my way around Dublin, taking pictures and meeting new friends and forgetting everything I was trying to forget–and it worked. It worked! I climbed, slowly, out of my depression and sadness, did things on my own like a big girl, hopped a train and a plane and another plane and went to Valencia, Spain, which I didn’t like that much but which was as SUNNY as promised and a great respite from the constant Irish rain (I love ya Ireland, I really do, but the rain…the RAIN…).
Seriously, I felt like I could reach out and touch the sun from my hotel room in Valencia. That is one sunny place. And if it weren’t for the dead bunnies stretched…oh, ya know what? I’ll spare you. Just know that you canNOT get a bowl of chicken soup in Valencia if you’re sick, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll spend most mornings here:
And oh that fresh OJ, available on every street corner. Oh, those Valencia oranges…best part, hands down. I also met a few very cool friends there, on the streets, whom I spent some fun times with…so there was that. But nine days later, I booked a flight outta there. I had 30 minutes to throw everything into my bags, RUN to the (thankfully) waiting taxis, where a woman driver (I swear, in all my years in NYC, I’ve never had a woman taxi driver!) threw my bags into the trunk and raced through the streets to get me to the train station in time: she was awesome.
Yes, even the train station is beautiful in Valencia. Still, I couldn’t wait to get out. I raced through the station, barely catching the fast train to Madrid, where I caught another taxi and raced through the streets to the airport to barely catch the plane to London. After nine days of not being understood by anyone, I was on my way to the original English speaking country, and I exhaled in thanks. I guess I should have taken Spanish in high school.
Anyway, my four days in London were rainy, too, and I left feeling all kinds of homesick for the good old US of A. I had meant to stay away for a year, but I only stayed seven and a half weeks, then had to come home because the people who were watching my dog gave up. My son bid me come home and I did–to the house I’d left behind, and the problems I’d run away from. But I was stronger now. Now, I could handle it.
The next seven months were spent NOT packing up the house, NOT looking for a job, NOT looking for a new place to live. Then it was August, and the house was sold and I had to move out and I had to get moving. With the help of good friends, I finally moved, on October 2…and 3, because I wasn’t ready when the moving men came and I cried and they told me it would be okay and it took $3,ooo to get me outta there and into my new apartment and put all my stuff in storage. I threw out/gave away about a third of my stuff, and still have alot of stuff, which is something I think George Carlin could do something with, were he still here.
But soon it was over. And now I’m here, in my sunny living room, the old debts gone, new debts growing…but I’m happy, for some reason. I don’t question it, because that only gets me into trouble. I rang in the new year singing and laughing and drinking and, well, drinking…dressed like Katy Perry (or her older, fatter sister, Patti Perry) because that was the theme of the party:
As I look forward to this new year, I am hopeful, for the first time in a long time, and it feels good. And although I woke up to a “we regret to inform you” email from an employer I’d spent an HOUR filling out an online app for yesterday, I am undeterred. I WILL have a good 2014 and I hope with all my heart that YOU will, too.