I'm Thinking

I feel I am suppose to post to this blog more often. If I could dictate the ideas/words/paragraphs to Siri or some such technological wizard and have her post them, I would certainly update more often.  I think of ideas/words/pictures that I would use but I've discovered just THINKING them does not get them on my blog. I'm going to work on an app for that. In the meantime, I'm thinking.

May Day! May Day!

I have always liked May Day. The first day of May speaks to me of fun, and flowers, and knocking on people's doors and running to nearby shrubbery for cover. This May Day is a little different. This May Day speaks to me of an urgent distress signal originating from the French words "m'aider" or "Come Help Me".                                             
                                                                                                                      
We know what building we want to live in in NYC.  Now it is just a matter of finessing our way into the only one bedroom apartment in the building that MAY become available in June. The current occupants could always decide to stay and considering the leasing agent had 3 phone inquiries into one bedroom apartment availability just during our 15 minute office visit,  I feel we will be lucky if we get the go ahead. We are filling out the applications and hoping for the best. We will know the answer to all of these questions on May Day.

My husband is pretty sure he wants to retire in July but needs his final financial estimates from his employer to feel confident about making a dive into another career. The figures will be available on May Day.

And finally, our buyers are jumping through some hoops to get final approval on their loan.  (You know how you HAVE the money but you just can't GET to the money in a timely manner? And how throwing a government savings plan in there for good measure just makes it that much harder?) Guess when we will know the resolution? Yes! On May Day.

So, May Day could be a flower basket day or an "I'm a basket case" day for our household.

May Day! May Day!  

                                                                                       

                                                                           

You're OUT! You're IN!

I tend to forget in between house moves how empowering it is to designate the future status of EVERY ITEM IN MY HOUSE. This chair - OUT! This glass - Definitely IN! This piece of art - OUT! OUT! OUT! Wellllllllll okay, IN!

But this move brings into play levels of decision making never before encountered. Previously the OUT and IN method (or IN and OUT if you happen to be a West Coast person and hamburgers come to mind) worked pretty well. This move not so much. Everything in the house goes through my stringent sorting process -

• Move to NYC (only one van-load though so choose wisely)
• Move to college student's newly leased campus apartment
• Move to my sister's - Lucky stuff! She incorporates it into her home.
• Move to storage
• For Sale to friends
• For Sale on Craigslist or EBay
• For Sale to Half-Price Bookstore (see recent announcement of store expansion to better display recently acquired DVD's, books and board games in The Mr and Mrs Y. wing).
• Donate
• Trash
• Pawn off on some unsuspecting member of the neighborhood by leaving it on their front porch in the middle of the night*

* I promise to only resort to this on May 24th, the last night before I turn the keys over to the new owner. I can feel panic mode setting in about that time and anything left, well, heaven help my neighbors as they open their front doors to find toilet plungers, gift wrapping paper, a variety of kitchen spices, and a hat from the wax museum in Taluca, Georgia (HAD to have it).

Here are some of today's IN and OUT decisions:

The glasses are OUT. Every member of the extended family had their own glass when they visited us and we spent time by the pool in our development. We have not lived near a pool since 1999.

The bookmark collection is IN. I rarely read "real" books anymore but someday someone is going to say "You used these for WHAT?"

It's OUT (donation). A lovely lady I used to work with made this. The memory that comes back to me about Vada is that she agreed to sit over a dunk tank and let people throw a ball at a target to drop her into the water. She was dropped alright but the dunk tank had been placed on concrete. Therefore the broken tailbone. Sweetest lady ever. I know someone who decorates in pink will love it.

The romance cards to each other you can never give away, throw away, or donate. These are the things that delay your move by hours though. How do you stuff them in a box without reading, reliving, and rehashing?


Anyway, the packing/moving job begins in earnest right after we return from NYC next Sunday.

Chicks

The Grandma gene kicked in today.

I agreed to accompany a friend to the local farm supply store to pick up top soil today and what should I find in the middle of the store but crates of little chicks. None of them were pastel colored (thank goodness) even though I used to enjoy seeing those at my little farm town's feed store at Easter time. My first thought was "How cute!" my next thought was "Nolan has to see these." Never before has "Nolan has to see these" popped into my head before today but that's what the Grandma gene does when it is activated.

I know two weeks old is a little young to get all hyped up about cheeping chicks but just you wait. Seeing things through the eyes of children is a great way to experience those "first time" events all over again. It's going to be fun.

In the meantime I think his parents are glad I was still 1200 miles away when the gene kicked in. What would they do with a chick in a NYC apartment?

The Scream, The Sale, The Move, The Smile

We talked about it. We dreamt about it. We did it. (Pause) (Scream)

The house is sold. The close date is set for May 25th. We are actually going to DO this. Move to The City.

My sister asked if I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Yes, I can't catch my breath if I try to think of all the tasks we have to complete in six short weeks. Deciding on an apartment in The City, deciding on an apartment in Small Town for the college student to summer in, deciding on a storage unit, deciding on what to store, what to give away, what to take with us, what to sell. Decisions, decisions, decisions. (Pause) (Scream)

I know in my heart this adventure is going to be fun. I know we are doing something some people only dream about, uprooting in mid-life to try a completely different lifestyle. We are letting go, embracing the unknown, and yet trying to stay in control. My stomach gives me happy butterflies one minute and rolling nausea the next. Do I jump up and down and clap my hands or curl into a little ball and bury my head under the covers? Today, both I think.

The TO DO list isn't getting any shorter as I sit here and write. I know if I take action I will be able to breath easier. One thing marked off the list, one step closer to The City - and the grandbaby, and his parents, and maybe a Broadway play, and Central Park on the weekends, and, oh, I'm beginning to feel better already..........

I can scream AND smile. Right?

Downsizing Tally: One house



Critter Control

Ah, man. As I  have been sitting in the basement doing computer work I now discover I have a visitor. A creepy, little animal visitor. In the ventilation system no less.

You know how you hear something and you think your ears are playing tricks on you? That scurrying, rustling sound? You look back over your shoulder. Then it stops. Then that scurrying, rummaging sound again. So you get up and creep over to the air conditioner unit where you think it's coming from. Nothing. Silence. So you sit back down. Augh! There it is again. So you stomp over as if to intimidate it into just going away and it continues to rummage around in the aluminum vents oblivious to the fact that your are staring at the vent area, willing the sound to stop and whatever IT is to find it's way back out the way it came in. Thank heavens it is contained and not running willy-nilly around my basement!

I know whatever it is, and it certainly isn't telling me, truly does not want to be in that vent. And I truly do NOT want to help it get out. Mr. Y is, of course, far away on a quick fishing expedition so I cannot wave my handkerchief in front of my face or feign fainting in hopes that he will save me.

A realtor and his clients will be here tomorrow at 10:00am. They are just going to have to understand that critter control is not my strong suit. I can clean baseboards, vacuum, rearrange furniture, weed, arrange flowers, and puff up pillows but I cannot, WILL not, coax an unknown varmint out of my vents. Hopefully it will be so worn out from navigating the vent system it will be taking a nap when they come. If not.........

Deal with it.

Intoxicating Spring

Is it just me or does it seem like everything that can possibly bloom in a spring/summer season has already bloomed or is getting ready to bloom?

I have never seen anything like this. The warm weather has all the ornamental trees blooming at the same time. It's almost too much to bear.

Redbuds, crabapple, dogwood, plum cherry, and pear. Color and fragrance is everywhere.

The daffodils were beautiful, the tulips and phlox still are. The peonies we used to place reverently on graves over Memorial Day, I saw blooming near our university campus earlier this week. The lilacs I would place in my May Day baskets are releasing their intoxicating aromas into the evening air as I write this. It's too early and it's almost too much.

 I love it....and yes, I will miss my backyard.

Measured In Miles

I don't know who "invented" baseboards but I am pretty darn sure it was a man.  Really. Who came up with this because I see no one taking credit for it anywhere on the WWW.  That alone should tell you something. This guy does not WANT to be remembered or credited with a really BAD idea.

As I prepare our house to be shown three times this weekend I am once again on my knees cursing a three inch high piece of wood that "decorates" the base of every single wall in my house. Well, not just my house but your house too. This dust catcher goes on forever doesn't it?  No one can tell me that this architectural element should be measured in inches, feet, or even yards. Baseboards should always be referred to in miles. "Yes, potential buyer, please note this house has 15 miles of baseboard. What a bargain you are getting!"

I wish there were an easier way to clean baseboards besides scootching (my spell check says this is not a word,but, trust me, it is) along on the floor with a wet cloth.  If I were going to phone in this task I would quickly run along the walls with a feather duster but I figure the dirt is going to end up somewhere else so why bother? I just read that using a laundry sheet helps reduce the dust collecting. Wish I had known that 5 miles ago.

The bad thing is I'm not sure people really notice baseboards unless they are dirty - the clean ones? Meh. (Sigh)

Downsizing Update: All the files from the business we sold five years ago have been carted off and burned. Mr. Y has the burn marks to prove it. Next up is the massage table that is being listed as "like new" because it is. Good intentions and all that......

Treasure Hunting

 Making the change from a PC to a Mac is turning out to be a bit of an adventure.  Slap on a safari hat and grab a magnifying glass because we are about to embark on a treasure hunt. We are going to be looking for pictures, documents and music that was suppose to have been transferred from the old PC to the new MAC. This is not going to be an easy task.

Last week, after our PC started exhibiting signs of being unstable, we decided it was time to make the final jump to all Apple devices. With iPhones and an iPad already on hand it seemed to make sense our next desktop would be an iMac. Using the phones and iPad seemed to be SO easy, surely this was going to be a snap too. Not so much.

First off, the keyboard is much smaller than our last one and most everything I type comes out looking like I am either cursing a blue streak or it's the formula for a chemical experiment. Even with autocorrect my sentences are looking downright obscene. Then we thought we had clicked on everything we needed for transferring all of our information from the PC to the MAC using wi-fi.  "Transfer is complete" we were assured (after seven hours!) on both screens. Great! Except I have yet to find any of the information on the MAC.  I have clicked, function keyed, and dragged (drug?) every icon I can think of and still I have not uncovered the mystery of where my pictures are. So far the ESCAPE key has been my best friend. At least I am able to extract myself from whatever pit (screen) I have landed on.

So now I am using both computers. They are set up in a corner so that I can swing my chair from one to the other with a fair amount of ease. This learning curve is going to be a little more steep than I thought and for sure I am going to need a better map!

A Virtual Grandbaby

He is finally here. Announced via text message and accompanied by a picture on Wednesday, March 28th. Nolan Christopher, 7 lbs 12 ozs. 21 inches long. A grandbaby. A beautiful, perfect baby boy born to my son and his "champion" of a wife, as my son so admiringly described her.

Witnessing childbirth is not for the faint of heart. The first time I talked with my son I could sense the awe (shock?) in his voice of what a miracle the whole process is. He is cradling a new human being that combines both he and his wife's genes. That will develop a personality all his own. That will give them laughs, heartache, and immeasurable joy. Who IS this little guy?

Thank goodness you can expand pictures on the new smartphones and tablets. Instead of being able to gaze upon him in person I spread my fingers to enlarge the picture. What color of hair does he have? "It looks like he has blond hair," I exclaim. "And look at those fingers! He'll be an athlete or piano player for sure. Or maybe both?"

I am requesting daily photo updates, a "Nolan Fix" if you will. Facetime is wonderful too. I can see him scrunch up his face, kick his little legs, and that funny look when their eyes roll up in their heads as they prepare for a snooze. They change so much in the first year, I know if I don't keep up with him daily I won't recognize him when I get my arms around him for the first time. I can't imagine "the old days" when you had to wait for a printed photo to arrive in the mail. Or the really old days when you might not meet family members until you took a trip to see them. Goodness only knows how this little guy will be introduced to HIS grandbabies someday.

For now I have a virtual grandson but there will be no amount of bandwidth that can substitute for the real thing. Soon, Nolan Christopher. Soon.