A day in the life of a grandmother

          My Saturday began hunched over my phone and computer.

          I’d ordered rain jackets for the twin granddaughters from Land’s End, in different colors, of course, to preserve their personal identities. After a week, (I’m so spoiled by Amazon Prime) they finally received them.

 

          Son texted – “We received the rain coats. Lola had hers on all night and Maya likes that color, too.”

          He asked if I had the order number so they could make an exchange. Bear in mind that I’m in Massachusetts, they’re in Rhode Island.

          Since the jackets had been delivered, I’d deleted all emails from the company, but started to troll through my email trash to find the order. Fifteen minutes later, it turned up on my phone Gmail, but oddly, not on my laptop.

 

          I wanted the coatless twin to get hers as quickly as possible except Land’s End doesn’t do exchanges, only returns. Plus, this was supposed to be a gift. So the answer would be for them to send back the one they have, and I’d order a new one.

 

          Son had described the favorite jacket as orange and white. Looking at the choices online I saw no such thing.

 Texting ensued:

          me - “I want to make sure I get the right color. One is considered ‘hot pink and cherry blossom’ the other is labeled ‘desert flower and peach fuzz.’

          I captured shots for comparison from my computer:

           

      

  

  me- “Which one is more orangey?”

          DIL- “Sorry about this. Maya would actually like the green one.”

Saved by Facebook

Me, dodging that bullet.

  

  Not something I ever expected to write, but. . .

          The other day, an acquaintance – and barely that, a pleasant lady who I’ve seen once or twice in the group we both belong to, asked us all to pause for a moment for an announcement.

 She’d found a women’s weekend in the mountains of North Carolina. I’d recently been considering such a thing and this had it all: spa, pool, mahjong, hikes, kayaking! The price seemed do-able and she’d already researched the air travel. She was looking for a roommate.

          No one bit except me.

          Should I sign up to room with someone I didn’t know? It was only a weekend and she seemed a quiet, friendly sort.

 I approached her as everyone was leaving and we exchanged phone numbers. Once home, I looked up the resort. Legit and very tempting. On their website, I couldn’t find all the details of the event. Was there a schedule? Was it completely price included?

          On a hunch, I went on Facebook, a place I never go if I can help it because since the mid-2010s I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about the beliefs of people I used to respect.

There the getaway was, just as she’d described it. I messaged the organizer for more details and then, what the heck, while I was there I looked up this new friend.

 

When I saw her entry of, “I just wish everyone realized all the great things he’s done for our country,” accompanied by images from the news, I knew what I had to do.

 

I immediately texted her my deep regret that I’d just realized we had a mandatory family event that weekend and wished her well in her search for a roomie.

 

So, thank you Facebook.

Forgotten Skill

 

          I broke one of my own personal rules last week and bought a pair of linen pants. Don’t get me wrong. I love linen. But on someone else - those kind of people who look all flowy and carefree, carrying off each wrinkle with aplomb.

Tunes and cars and the march of progress

           I remember when we retro-fitted a tape deck in my ’85 Subaru wagon. I loved that wagon – a deep navy blue, it was just the right size. And now it had tunes! I even sold my soul to Columbia House for a brief spell, but then after the introductory phase I didn’t want to keep paying for tapes, so sometimes I’d check them out of the library and make copies.

          Next was our little Bronco 2, with a built in (!) tape deck and with a ridiculously small wheel base. I could do a U-turn on a dime. So tall and square that I’m surprised it didn’t just tump over on its side sometimes.

          In 1998 we leased a Pathfinder, so fancy that the Nissan badge on the back was gold. Now I was living, with both a tape deck and a CD player.

 (We ended up buying it and kept it for 20 years. That car would not give up. It was such a tank that the body gave out before the motor and we ended up welding the engine to the frame to hold everything together. We ultimately gave it in trade to a junkman who was helping us clear out when we moved from our house to this condo.)

          My 2006 Passat sedan came next, with a CD player. I loved that car, which I’d bought all by myself, not a husband in sight. It was the loss leader for a dealership outside of Boston. They kept trying to steer me to something higher end, but no, I didn’t want leather seats, and no, I didn’t need their finance package or insurance.  

          Then we found a used 2009 Infinity SUV, much fancier than we’d have been able to afford if it was new, so this one was outfitted a CD deck that held 6 CDs at once. And yes, we still have that car and it waits for us in Florida.

          However now I’m driving my leased 2025 Honda CRV. With no deck – tape or CD – and no way to play the music I’d gathered over the years. This is progress?

          Fortunately, I had transferred much of the CD collection to my last laptop. Good thing, since the stupid laptop I have now doesn’t even have a CD drive. And miraculously, we figured out how to move that file (that I didn’t realize I’d saved) from the new laptop to my phone and thus now I can Bluetooth that into my car.

    
But these went out with the trash last week.  

If only looks could actually kill

 

Mea Culpa

 Okay, I did it again. I wandered away from the blog and then didn’t get up enough momentum to return till now.

          However, in my defense I’ve had a roaring cold for the past three weeks and still have a lurking cough that sneaks up, thus preventing me from returning to my yoga group, too. When the room is so silent you worry about someone being embarrassed by even a soft fart, you certainly don’t need me suddenly hacking up a lung.

          So, today I spent playing catch-up. My book club met on Wednesday and I went dancing in, saw the woman hosting this week collecting up the books and realized to my horror that I’d forgotten to call the library to order the ones for June. When I’m hosting.

          Funny, just the day before I’d exchanged nightmares with my hairdresser. He’d said that the common hairdresser dream is hordes of people arriving to the shop all for the same time slot. I shared my teacher one, in which I can’t find my classroom and when I get there I have none of the materials needed.

          And now I’d basically lived that in real life.

          So that Wednesday I quickly slunk over to the library desk and ordered the copies needed. They must have sensed my desperation because 12 of them arrived on Friday. (I still need 6 more.)

          Thus, today was spent ferrying the ones I did have to people’s homes. I will say it’s handy that the book club is all people in our complex so that wasn’t too much of a strain.

(And here is something that caught my attention as I walked by the library showcase. Isn't this a neat idea?)

Bringing the Florida cold with us

         We’ve landed; we’re officially now transplanted back to Massachusetts till next winter. Over the years, we’ve grown used to the three days of driving necessary to get here, but each year it feels just a bit more difficult. This year’s added bonus was that on day one My Guy was coughing. By day two he was coughing and sneezing and my eyes began to water. By day three all we wanted, sweet Jesus, was to get home.