I have been living in the suburbs of Corpus Christi, Texas, for about six weeks now.  It has been a culture shock:  the transplantation of an old lady who had lived all her life in the country now confined to a house at the end of a cul-de-sac.  What had I been thinking?  The day-to-day life still confounds me; it may as well be a river flowing backwards. The trash has to be picked up tomorrow.  But is it the trash day or the trash and recyclables day?  What is to be recycled and thereby given a new life? If I throw myself into the recycle bin, will a youthful transformation take place? Apparently, the recyclables only occur biweekly but I didn’t bring the calendar with me; I have no way to tell.  (It is another month until my husband, our belongings, and our car arrive from out-of-state.)  In the…