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.

          When I try to wear linen, I think I look as though I’ve been wearing the same shirt through three time zones, six countries, over a span of eight days.

          But the pants were so comfortable, just the sort of thing I could see myself lounging in at home. Maybe with a chilled glass of white wine.

 

          This led to something I haven’t done in possibly eight to ten years.

          Yes, you guessed. I got out the IRON.

          What with being retired for a hundred years, and deploying careful shopping – not to mention lowered standards – I haven’t set up the ironing board for possibly a decade.

          But you know what? I gathered up a couple of other things and got started, and realized that ironing can be soothing, watching those wrinkles disappear, the surface smooth out.

 

         I still haven’t worn the pants, but they look great hanging there neatly in my closet, possibly forever.

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.

Departure

 Today is a day of piles in the hall, cleaning the fridge, eating on paper plates, and packing the car. Not to mention all the Florida-specific tasks like placing DampRid (bagged granules that soak up moisture) in closets, and last-minute saran wrap over the toilets (discouraging evaporation and possible critters from pipes).

Marty puts down her drink and runs to the rescue.