I moved here two years ago this weekend. I know this because it’s NAMM weekend, and that convention was taking place when my folks were here to help guide the 53-foot semitractor-trailer into downtown and then stand with me and wonder, “Where are we going to put all this stuff?”
I don’t think I have thanked my parents enough for all the help when I moved here, especially that first weekend. They slept on an air mattress in my little “den” and at times escaped to the public library. My dad got to eat at Monell’s (back when they had a place on 6th Avenue N) and chatted up a table full of NAMM attendees, so he was in his element. My mom got to design a new household’s kitchen cabinets, closets and shelves, so she was in her element.
It takes me a while to get in a routine, but two years in, I have developed my own method for Saturday. I begin with a walk. This morning I could barely see the tops of buildings because the haze was so thick. That humidity prompted me to break a longstanding personal rule, and I wore a tank top. My apologies to NAMM attendees and the good people of East Nashville. I have a couple great downtown routes – I should post them sometime.
Usually, but not always, my walk takes me to the Farmer’s Market. I get there at some point on Saturday and try to gauge how much fruit I will be able to consume before it turns. I always have one peach and one nectarine that don’t last, so I have yet to perfect my system. I always buy wildflowers from a Kentucky woman who sets up a booth with her husband and daughter. She looks for me and we talk a little each week. She is a lactation specialist at one of the local hospitals and is a very natural and mild-mannered person. She puts together amazing bouquets. Many weeks I take pictures of the bouquets – I should post them sometime.
Then I clean the house [read as: move piles of stuff from one room to another] and decide if/where I’m going to the grocery store. Since I live downtown, I have to drive out a little to the store, and sometimes I work that into the Sunday routine, which involves church and a class at the Donelson Y. More often Saturday early evening finds me at the Kroger in Germantown (which I affectionately call the Ghetto Kroger).
And Saturday nights I usually stay in. It’s true! And it’s wonderful. I plan for the upcoming week, watch a movie, and read.
Two years in, I am ready to make these pronouncements:
I have never had anything but a great meal at Tin Angel.
I have unlocked the mysteries of the Ellington Parkway.
The best place to practice Spanish is in the movie ticket line at the Hollywood 27 Cinemas.
The Kroger in Germantown really isn’t that scary.
Cool Springs is.