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.

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.

Rude Awakening

 

Tomorrow we’ll be listening as someone sings a thought we’ve all had – ‘If I were a rich man. . .’

Duty Done!

           Our next door neighbors here are so close that our porches sit side-by-side. We’re outwardly friendly, but like the big ole hypocrites we are, we avoid them with dodges and weaves worthy of any prizefighter in the ring.

Morning Constitutional

 

Another stroll around our quiet (especially now that many of us snowbirds have left) complex once again provided some unexpected sights.

Shameless or Brilliant Marketing?

 

As we were leaving the beach the other day, I noticed something that at first seemed out of context, but then realized it was perfectly placed. 

A Little Free Library

Disasters in Clay

Because last year we’d enjoyed our maiden voyage into the land of clay, my friend Ann and I returned to the Venice art center for another pottery class. Neither one of us lays any claim to artistic ability, but this seemed like something even we could do.

Beach morning

Today being about as perfect as a day can get, we decided to do breakfast on the beach. 

Rainy Day

 

Nothing gladdens the heart in the middle of a drought like a good rainstorm. Our totally fake ponds, not spring-fed, were looking very low. In fact, it’s been so dry this year that one of them has grassed over and will need mowing before long.

Babies, scooter, snakes, and rainbow

 

You would think that walking the around our complex would be tedious. I mean, it’s just a circle. About the only variety you can achieve is in which way you take it. Admittedly, I’m always listening to a book on my phone since I always feel like a hamster on her wheel by the time I’m in the second loop to gain some steps.

Day Trip

           So, just to get up and out, we took a drive to Matlacha, Florida, only a little over an hour away from us. Against all logic, it’s pronounced “mat-lah-SHAY.”

Limping and Blinking

There I was, on my way to bash that pickleball, when my sneaker hit the ground at an angle, my ankle did an unpleasant turn, and my knee was suddenly unhappy.

For Peg

   What with food prices on their alpine climb, I’m determined to eat down whatever we already have before the next trip. I’m one of the probably select few who doesn’t mind a trip to the grocery store, it combining two of my favorite things – shopping and food.

Clear-conscience shopping

          For the rest of the year, I live in a small town in Massachusetts that while lovely, isn’t close to much of anything. We have a couple of nearby good restaurants, but eating out usually means a drive of 45 minutes or an hour.

First came the goats . . .

 

I’d played pickleball for two hours in the morning, but then spent the afternoon just sitting, so it was time for a walk around the complex.

Mystery solved

 

Yesterday meandered by – up later than my usual leap-out-of-bed-at-7:00 to rush off and play pickleball. This meant comfy time on the couch with my cup of tea and latest mystery. Then a walk of two times around the complex, more reading, then to the pool to lounge and chat with people. Hedonist heaven.

          Like other days, when I didn’t actually have a book in my hand, I had one in my head. I truly love my airpods. I can listen while I’m changing beds, walking, making dinner, or for more of a challenge, while I’m also completing a crossword puzzle. I use them so much, and they and their case are so small, that I’m careful, careful about where I leave them.

          So, I came home from the pool, fiddled around with a few things, and then fixed dinner (Roasted shrimp & asparagus, caprese salad, box noodle mix), all while still listening to my book.

          When dinner was ready, I unplugged my head and then couldn’t find the case to put the airpods away. After dinner the search began in earnest: countertops, bedroom dresser top, beach bag, purse, bathroom counter. Twice. Then under chairs, bed, dresser; inside underwear drawer, kitchen junk drawer, office junk drawer, box where I throw my sunglasses after walking. Repeat. Nothing.

Homeless

          I finally ended up ordering a replacement case, knowing in my heart that that would ensure that the original case would magically appear. Except it didn’t last night.

          Today I poked around in the freezer, wondering what to make for dinner. Wasn’t there a chicken recipe I wanted to try? How many cans of tomatoes did it call for?

          Off to the office to pull out my big loose-leaf binder of clipped recipes.

          When I opened it – you guessed it – out fell the missing case.

The Loaner

 

My Guy needed my car for a lone day trip, since we thought it would be nice if he actually got to where he was going. His car, which we leave here in Florida, used to be my car.

Four out of four

 

If only I could say that the reason for this latest surge of images on the blog is that I’ve used up all my words through my writing.

While I did make some inroads on book 5 yesterday (finally!), accomplishing a couple of scenes and giving some thought to tying various characters into the happenings,

for the past several weeks I’ve been incredibly lazy. Fortunately, I’ve found one way to outwit myself: Get so far into the book that I can’t possibly walk away, leaving it unfinished and abandoning all that work I’d put into it.

          But never mind all that – in lieu of some deep thoughts on my part, here’s what My Guy entered into the latest modeling society competition. (A reader had expressed interest and requested more of these the last time I posted one of his entries, so here ya go.) 

       

 Usually not much taller than 4 or 5 inches, these are what is known in that world as “flats.” 

He buys the sculpted figure and then paints it, sometimes creating a backdrop for it. I think it was the backdrops that brought him into his other love - painting on canvas. 

This one of Robin Hood earned him a silver.

He won a bronze with the milkmaid:

This one earned him a silver:

And this brought home the gold:

Fabric Joy

(Warning - many pictures ahead.)

I went to an art show on Saturday. 

This show may have awakened that old urge to pore over bolts of fabric and thumb through quilting patterns. 

Aging Report

          I had a Zoom call with my three friends from high school – Washington-Lee in Arlington, VA to be exact. Truly a forgotten era, seeing as how not only is the building gone, a shiny new one replacing it probably decades ago, but the name exists no longer, either. It’s now Washington Liberty, which I suppose means the football team is no longer the Washington Generals. And in domino-style, I imagine the team colors are no longer blue and gray. . . and therefore, I imagine the yearbook I used to work on is no longer called the Blue and Gray either.

          Whew – I hadn’t followed all that to its logical end before.

          I envy those of you who are near your roots and see friends from long ago on a regular basis. As I’ve written before, the three of us are scattered over Massachusetts, West Virginia, Maryland, and Hawaii. Unsurprisingly, we haven’t gotten together in years. I haven’t seen our Hawaii member in decades.

          Last year we made noises about getting together, possibly near or at the West Coast to simplify travel for our island dweller. However, our Maryland friend fell while on a trip and broke her femur, resulting in months of recovery.

          We’re going to try again this fall, this time aiming for the Southwest – Santa Fe? Sedona? Somewhere artsy with good views, anyway.

We’ll see.

          The thing is, Hawaii friend seems none too healthy – diabetes, arthritis – and her husband just turned 102. Yes. Really. 102. So, I imagine she’ll have to line up care for him.

          It seems as though West Virginia friend can now barely walk, but she cheerily extolled the possibilities of airport wheelchairs. Okaaaay . . . . .

          Maryland friend is all healed up, and is probably just fine for the trip. Hard to tell, though. She has definite hypochondriacal tendencies.

          As the only one of the group with my own knees, whose only medication is a low-dose statin, I feel a bit like Wonder Woman, arthritis aside.

Sunday Stroll

 This morning's walk through the complex was full of the usual fauna:

A crabby crow

The Heavens

 

Sweet daughter managed to tear herself away from the tropical climes of northwestern New Jersey for a long weekend here in Florida. I’m sure it was a wrench, having to leave behind the scene of this last week’s blizzard. It’s a rare treat to have one of our kids all to ourselves, something you don’t realize how much you’ll miss it when they get married and have kids and a life of their own.

Sad Soles

          So as you may know, I’ve been playing pickleball quite a bit lately, sometimes three times a week. And if you’re envisioning me dashing gracefully side to side and then whizzing from the net to the back of the court – don’t.

          My game is now fairly stationary; I play close to the net as much as I can and depend on fast reflexes and a long reach. I learned the hard way that running backwards will often guarantee that you’ll land on your keister, or worse.

          Running anywhere pretty much left my life several years ago.

          And yet, I’ve still managed to come home with aching legs. Thinking it was all about arch support issues, I got orthotics, which didn’t solve things completely. I finally realized I probably just needed a new pair of sneakers, which I now need to take for a walk. Or do I?

          Do people still “break in” their shoes? I remember as a kid, a period of band-aids on my heels before that year’s school shoes softened up.

          And another thing – I also remember every September my father taking the beer can opener’s pointy end and scratching up the smooth soles of my new saddle shoes to prevent me slipping. In this world of sneakers everywhere except the shower, I guess that’s gone, too.

Quiet Weekend

          My Guy is away for the weekend, and I should be accomplishing no end of productive projects. It’s not as though I couldn’t do these things when he’s home, but something about having a silent house makes me feel both guilty and free.

          I’ve at least finished one audio book and I’m halfway throug

Mulch Madness

 

       In spite of being old enough to have a 23 year-old grandson, and having bought a condo (and paying a hefty HOA fee for the landscaping), I found myself outside spreading mulch.

Valentine Cuisine

 

Our Valentine’s Day festivities were just as dull as they usually are. And we’re just fine with that.

Fuzzy Memories

 If one purpose of a blog is to record events and memories from our lives, it occurred to me that perhaps I could list all the animals from my life.

Snippets

 

Yup, still here. And it’s not as though there’s been such a cavalcade of events that I’ve been too busy to post. Although there was that thrilling trip to Costco to re-stock our Glucosamine, and perhaps I could have written about how often I’ve been out to sweep the common hallway due to all the leaves blown in by the wind.

 

Almost parallel universes

 

          Here we are in the ‘sunshine state’. And sunshine we’ve got- plenty of it – but last night’s forecast included snow for parts of Florida.

Familiar Skills

          Last night was dinner out – not in an exciting-culinary-kind of way, but just a gathering of fellow residents contributing to the meal.

          I didn’t have much else going on, so I decided to make bread.

Holding Pattern

        I should be writing. Scads of time, but I’ve only achieved seven chapters so far and the procrastination is growing by the day.

Snowfall to sunset

        I remember Mama recounting tales from the days when we lived in Amherst, Massachusetts. I was barely there, being only two. My father was teaching at University of Mass – Poly Sci I think – but only briefly, before we all moved to Arlington, Va. after he was hired by CIA.

Food Fun

 

We’ve had a couple of Aldi food stores open our area. WinnDixie finally conceded the supermarket title to the omnipresent Publix, but apparently WinnDixie were bought by Aldi, who are now almost as ubiquitous around here as the big P.

          You can’t really go there with your full shopping list in your hand, but it’s fun if you like treasure hunting for bargains. And finding anything name-brand is a challenge, but I did snag that old standby Campbell’s tomato soup for 99 cents a can and then later saw it at Publix for $2.09.

          And I’m broadening my horizons

There was a row of mysterious brown root vegetables:

          Okay, yucas I know.  

         

And these apparently are balanca malangas.

  

      

And at first I figured the store was stumped here, just writing “name”.

 

But after looking it up later, I learned the
'name root' is a form of yam.

       

   But Whoa, Mama! Just look at this egg price.