Fini

So it’s done. The check’s in the bank, the lawyers and real estate agents have gone their separate ways, and our home is being invaded by strangers.

All Buttoned Up?

     Today I was reading a posting on Facebook by one of our selectmen in our small town at home. There’s been discussion lately in town about requiring all future building to be “green.” Some people are pro  - environment-friendly, ecologically friendly – while others point to increased cost.

Useful Knowledge

I could use an owner’s manual for our new place.

Score!

     We had company yesterday for lunch, an agreeable group of people, and it was a fun afternoon.   It’s been a while since I’ve hosted anyone other than immediate family and I’d forgotten the side benefits of entertaining.

          Sure, you do have to get the house clean and hide all traces of the squalor that you usually live in. Shoes actually go in closets, the butter dish finally gets washed, and the newspapers get picked up.

          But all the major parts of the house are clean and tidy all at once. It’s a heady feeling.

          Then, you have entertainment delivered right to your door in the form of nice people with good conversation (if you’re lucky, that is).

          And after several pleasant house during which you all eat delectables you don’t usually buy just for yourself, they go home.

          I now have a clean house, two bottles of wine I didn’t have before, and half a cake. Not a bad afternoon’s take.

Hung Up

 

Joan Crawford aside, I could use some more old-fashioned metal coat hangers. 

Battening Down the Hatches

          A year ago, it seemed like a great idea to give my husband a weather station. Now I’m not so sure.

Winter Captive

I did make it out to meet up with a friend today, but winter is here in earnest and my house is seductive. 

Cold Winter Mornings versus Hot Summer Mornings

Yesterday the forecast was for in the 90s and we still hadn’t put any air conditioners in our windows.

I knew that after the temperature passed 85 degrees I would be as immobile as the faces on Easter Island.

The Gravity of Age

          I’m balancing on one leg, one foot lifted off the floor of my YMCA shower cubicle, hoping to slip my size 10 hoof through the first circle of my underpants without getting the elastic wet.

Going Cold Turkey

Last fall we said a final goodbye to Satchel, our eighteen-year-old black cat. He was arguably one of our favorite pets, more of a dog in a cat suit than anything else. He was certainly the only cat we’d ever had who would play fetch. 

          We are now in unfamiliar territory – the land of the petless. Since my husband tends to stay rooted in his recliner, there is now no one to run to the door when I return home. My clothes are strangely fur-free, and the twin odors of cat litter and Friskies tuna no longer waft through the house. When I hear an odd noise I actually have to pay attention instead of dismissing it as my sixteen-pound cat thumping around upstairs. 

          Now when I visit friends with pets, they probably wonder why they’ve bothered to invite me at all since their animals get more attention than they do. Molly, the giant Newfoundland; Shultzie, the miniature dachsound; Blue, my son’s skittish cat – whoever they are – big or small – as long there’s fur, when I leave they’re a bit worse for the wear. Most rewarding of all are my daughter’s cats, Marvin and Dusty, who bear a strong resemblance to the cat in the Peanuts cartoon. They drape themselves over you like so much Spanish moss. 

          We had planned to swoop into the local animal shelter this spring and bring two more cats home to what is unquestionably Cat Heaven. However, we will likely be away for some of next year, beginning with a two to three-day road trip.

     I do recall seeing other cars with a cat stretched below the back

window dozing blissfully, but the more likely scenarios for us are an animal ricocheting around the vehicle like a furry icon in a video game and/or two people with clenched jaws, whose faces match their gray hair, the result of being trapped in a car with the unending complaints – and emissions – of an unhappy pet in a carrier. 

          So now I’m spending way too much time watching cat videos, I wait anxiously for news about Albert at Going Gently http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/ (don't even get me started on Winnie), I melt at pictures of Eli at Henny Penny Lane http://hennypennylane.blogspot.com/, I look forward to what Chance is up to at Far Side of Fifty http://farsideoffifty.blogspot.com/ , and of course I've hit the motherload at Knatolee's World http://knatolee.blogspot.com/ , where she's apparently preparing to build an ark. 
        Meanwhile, the moles have turned the front lawn into their own personal Disneyworld, and the chipmunks in the yard are closing in, now that my mighty hunters are gone.

Missing Identity

We reach a point where we think that we are done with change in our lives – the kids are grown, the house is paid for, there are no more workplace goals – and we retire.

It's Good to be Alive

     Finally it’s time to pull the storage box of sandals out from under the bed and rotate the heavy sweaters from their shelf in the closet, replacing them with shorts. 

Reality Check

It seems every ladies magazine I pick up has a spread on tablescapes.

Safe and Secure

      So the temps today reached into the 50s, and after the February we've had this was an event as miraculous and unexpected as me someday waking up 20 pounds lighter (never gonna happen). I actually rode around with my car window open and unzipped my jacket to an inch below my chin! 

Where Men Are Men and Women Are Too

My latest fascination seems to be Alaska. Apparently all those grizzlies are currently getting elbowed aside by the hordes of film crews descending upon the state’s forests.

Candy and Lights

The gingerbread competition at our local museum was pretty fierce this year.

She's Leaving Home

           Don’t get me wrong. I do love our house and where it sits at the end of  a short dead-end road conveniently located right near the center of our small town. There are times, however when living here can be a bit of a challenge.

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,

Monday’s plans?

Bituminous Bouquet

Maybe I should have married a garage mechanic. Aside from the obvious benefit of continuous car care, there would be the aroma of a man with petroleum in his system.

Housing Development

According to Wikipedia, cluster housing is the grouping of residential properties on a development site in order to use the extra land as open space or recreation.