Friday, February 12, 2016

Can't Go Home Again

Had a wonderful visit to Seattle this past week.

I was a social butterfly! Breakfast, lunch, coffee and dinner dates with wonderful friends. I felt so loved! Ate food that I miss, being here in Northern New Mexico - Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, Japanese sushi and endless cups of chai and first-rate coffee. Going for walks at sea level is so much easier than walking at 7,000 feet! I had so much energy!

But, on my last day in town, my sister and I decided to treat ourselves to pedicures. I knew my legs had swollen a little during my trip, but when I took off my shoes and socks and sat in the massage chair with the foot bath I was shocked to see my ankles and feet, nearly doubled in size. I became very concerned and wondered if my heart was once again malfunctioning.

It took until later that evening for me to remember that I had this same reaction when I was exposed to mold in 2010. My feet swelled up so much my toes looked like 5 little stumps on top of a balloon. I coughed all week while I was in town. Damp chest coughs. I think, despite my heart's desire, I am allergic to my home town. It makes me sad that I can't go home again. But, doubt if I could afford it. My friend, Angela, did a report for her college statistics class that showed the median price of a one bedroom apartment in town has skyrocketed to $2,150 a month! They say Amazon is hiring 50,000 new employees and there is an apartment shortage. Seattle's always been a 'boom or bust' kind of town. And if you aren't booming along with it, you are plain flat busted.

Speaking of Amazon, they now have an actual brick-and-mortar store where they sell books. Built of actual brick and mortar. First they kill all of the bookstores and take all of their business. Then they build their own bookstores. Ain't capitalism grand?

Wish somebody'd find a way to remove the mold from Seattle, so I could move back one day. But, it doesn't seem likely. And I'm pretty happy most of the time where I am. Guess I'll just have to face the fact that I can't go home again.