Monday

The things we learn about ourselves when we move! The things we find buried in our souls or buried in stacks of papers! 

I found this in my move-out: it was painted by my father's friend, in the year I moved away from Warsaw to New York, to work as an au pair and to finish college. 1972, so I was 19. I dont know what to do with it! There is no way I want to hang a painting of myself anywhere within eyesight. Yet, tossing it seems so wrong. It stays in the last banker's box in the hallway, there with about a half dozen items like this one. Things that have no obvious home. I showed it to the kids later in the day and had them guess who it was. It took them a while to suggest that it might be me!

Once again I wake up too early. I'm still buzzing. The apartment may be settled, but my head isn't yet. I heard the other day on NPR that the verb "to ruminate" isn't really a word, but we use it because, well, it's so useful! To think deeply about something. I woke up feeling deeply about my move, the uncertainty going forward. (Will I stay here beyond the year's lease? Will I move again? Where to and why?) And so I did what I usually do when I "think with deep concern." I wrote down my thoughts and sent them to the person who could, if he wanted to, offer some insights on the matter.

And then I got up and tested the new shower and it was so grand! (Water pressure at the farmhouse is very poor upstairs and, too, dont even get me started on the mineral levels in the water. Think: calcium encrusted everything, only I don't know if it's even just calcium. We should retest the well water ever couple of years. We did it only once in the 14 years I lived there.) Next, a breakfast, not outside. Ed and I speculated if perhaps eating breakfast together would be easier going forward than eating dinners together, given the animals and the distance. But not today. He has his machining project and, too, the house cleaning to do, so that the farmhouse leans toward a man cave. Or something. 

My own breakfast at the Edge is more challenging to photograph. You're not lulled (and neither am I) by a morning walk to the barn. Outside, I hear the distant noise of traffic. I can see myself sitting on the porch alone to read on a warm spring day, but I cant see myself taking breakfast out there regularly. What for? The view is meh, the sounds are uninteresting. I'm trying out the island. As you can see, it's huge, and it needs flowers!

(with a view toward my marching band, all lined up neatly!)

And speaking of found objects, does anyone remember the key chane with a piece of woven fabric I got at the Venetian weavers' workshop? I bought it because it was the cheapest item there and then I put it aside. I found a use for it! House keys.

 

 

Then I work on technology. There is always something, isn't it? My phone was losing its charge faster than a wild turkey on the run, so I finally decided to replace it. Doing data transfers, etc etc took up the better part of the morning. As did canceling cable service. I knew I would lead a more interesting life going forward!

Next, I scrubbed the fabric on the chair in the bedroom, and thought about groceries. Ed will do his own delivery of course. I am still thinking: should I shop? Should I test delivery here? Door delivery at the farmhouse was easy -- you got your bags at the door. In the apartment, you get your bags at the door as well. The building front door, which for me is a hefty walk away from my unit. I see some people have little wagons for grocery movement whether from car to unit or door to unit. I am not spending money on a little cart! So I ruminate. 

 

And in the afternoon, I pick up the kids. One, then the other.

 

 

 

And then home. My beautiful home. (Today I asked the management if I was actually the first inhabitant of the unit, given that the whole complex is just two years old. They said no. I was shocked. It is absolutely spotless! I want the name of their cleaning service for when I am old and incapacitated!)

The kids are in good spirits. We are establishing old routines within a new setting. They have gone from suspicious, to skeptical, to enthusiastic about my new place. Eventually they will land on "indifferent." 

(Sparrow has been charmingly curious about everything in the new space. He opened every door, every cabinet, every drawer  to see how I had organized things.)

Toward evening I take them home and then drive down to the grocery store. I need something for dinner that is other than a salad and cheese and crackers! 

I pull in late.  

(drama in the skies, as seen from my windows...)

 

I knew I would miss the farmhouse endings to a day and I do. But, on the upside, I do not mind the serenity here. The "everything is in its place" feeling. The gentle jazz as I fix my supper of... well, salad and cheese once again! With hummus thrown in for good measure. And a non-alcoholic beer. And another. Hey, it's a large salad!  

with lots of love... 

chapters

How do you compartmentalize the stages of your life? By age? Childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, middle age, senior years? If you have kids, is it  simply "before and after?" For me, it changes over time. It used to be: Poland, New York, Poland, the United States. But that last period has filled three quarters of my life, so I've now subdivided it -- by the moves I've made in my life. There have been seventeen. Is that a lot? I dont know... how many have you had in your long or not yet long life?

My moves have always been game changers. They weren't merely a shift in residence. they were an upheaval. Whether it was from my grandparents' village house to Warsaw, or from Chicago to Madison, they brought with them monumental changes.

And this move? Yeah, it's a big one. It's the most unexpected one and coming as late in life as it did, it comes with the greatest set of unknowns. A move into uncertainty!

And yet, it's not that at all. Whereas at other times, my relational or familial status changed with very many of the moves, this time, at a personal level, not a whole lot changes. My family, my friends? Same. Ed? Aiming for better actually! 

 

I woke up not exactly refreshed, having worked on unpacking until way past midnight. Why?? I am so tired. Why push myself? Well, this has been the issue all along -- when I see something can be done to beautify my surroundings, I do it. If I can come closer to that higher level of perfection (snipped lilies, pulled weeds, clipped branches), I'll kill myself to get it done so that I can look up and smile at the results. Last night, I'd walk past a box and think -- let me just unpack this one. And then again -- let me just put the pants away... how hard can that be? 

Finding the sweetness in all this -- after a long and anxious day, in those late hours I felt just a little bit happy. It was great to see Ed, to drive him to the farmhouse, to hold hands again, to make plans for the next day, to stay with the good. And this morning, again I took note of the good: since I have windows facing nothing much, I kept the shades up and since the bed is by the window, I woke up to a view of the sky. The cloud formations, the wisps of pastel hues from a sunrise somewhere to my left. The bed was comfortable. The sleep was again too short, but what there was of it, was solid.

And again I set about putting things away, with a level of compulsion that shouldn't surprise me. 

 (a proper time for a t-shirt that says e solo questione di organizzazione!)

 

 

I suppose the compulsion comes from an overreaction to the chaos that I left at the farmette. Here, I even lined up the contents of the medicine cabinet. In soldier rows, correcting anything that got out of line. Everything has to be immaculate and orderly. And no excess! If I haven't used it in recent years, it should not be here. 

Eventually I pause for breakfast. 

 

What can I say -- the location of this apartment building isn't ever going to be anything but convenient to my daughter's home. It's a concrete world out there. Sure, walking distance to better things, but even though I see trees out my window, nature is not at my fingertips. This is a shame. After the farmhouse, this absence of the natural world is a huge change. No flowers on the balcony will make up for the absence of a view toward the crabapple, absence of the sound of birds, absence of a country fragrance that we always had just by stepping outside. 

But maybe I have to get used to this: if in my really old age I'm slated to live downtown (at my preferred senior residential and care complex), well that's even worse! Here, I am close to the quiet world. I am at the edge of town. Ha, I am at the Edge!  

On a trivial level, I also really find it hard to throw away discarded bits of produce. At the farmhouse, our compost bucket is full all the time. Our compost piles are huge. It's hard, really hard to switch to an urban way of throwing everything into the trash can. 

But here's good news: by late afternoon, I am done with unpacking! Decided to move on Monday, found a place, packed up, had movers the following Wednesday and now, on Sunday I'm done! There is more than enough space for my belongings, even if I have given over the entire second closet to kid toys. I vow to myself that I will never bring in anything without first removing a comparable item from here. Accumulated stuff just creeps up on you and before you know it you've lost control. No more tchotchke additions. No more added forks from my travels. If anything, I can subtract even more! My next move has to be easier than this one!

And as I finish up, I have visitors! My daughter and Snowdrop are out walking and they swing by to check things out. 

 

 

 

A huge compliment is that Snowdrop wants to stay as her mom says "time to go." Normally I would have volunteered to zip her back later, but I'm tired, and Ed will be coming soon. 

And he does come soon. He has been spending all day cleaning the farmhouse. The irony is not lost on me of course, but then Ed views things very differently from me: the absence of furniture, of stuff pleases him. He is eager to get rid of even more -- perhaps the bed? And just keep the mattress? I remind him that as we get older, getting up from the floor becomes more of a challenge. Still, the guy is on a roll. 

We talk about the future of the garden. He absolutely cannot keep it going and I absolutely do not want to work so hard, certainly not on the three acres of farmette lands. He thinks turning it into more orchard and meadow will require less maintenance. Good luck with that. Still, I don't blame him for worrying about what to do now that I'm no longer willing to put in the time.

In the apartment he helps me set up the TV without cable service. Yay. Be done with that and spend less money in the process. He then builds the most complicated bookshelf on the planet...

And together we figure out the height for me to put in nails for artwork. When he leaves (the hens are waiting!), I look around me. Yes, there's still a missing item here and there but basically, I'm done! Tomorrow, I start just being here.

with so much love... 

 

 

 

time

A week ago, I took Ed to the airport. The next day he set sail, from Maine to Delaware. Two weeks ago I had no idea that I would be moving and that indeed, I would, in two weeks, be in a completely new home. I told Ed yesterday that I have been insanely busy. I could almost see him shake his head over the phone line as he retorted -- who decides to move, packs up and then does move in such a short period of time? I have tried to explain, to many friends, to family why I felt this was the right thing to do. I get that it's a tough one to fathom. I guess I could throw out a couple of reasons here, on Ocean: because I was absolutely sure that not a whole lot would change if I stayed and waited for a different outcome. There's never any reason for Ed to change his mind on a matter where he has a strong opinion. Well, now I've given him a reason. No it's not blackmail! I simply think that we have come to a point where it is obvious (at least to me) that there is a very significant difference in the way we approach these last decades (years? months? weeks?) of our life. If we are not on the same page on this, then I should not be living at the farmhouse. 

So today I wake up at the farmhouse, but this Gorgeous will go to sleep at the Edge. And my Once Occasional Travel Companion, who evolved into a beloved partner in life, will go to sleep at the farmhouse. 

But unless I've pissed him off completely, it is by no means the end of a relationship. I hope we will always be beloved partners to each other. However, work is now required to make it as good as it was just a short time ago. (And yes, you perceptive souls, the nagging issues have been percolating for a while. I did not suddenly invent this problem. Up to now, I simply ignored it.) 

I'll try not to make this post a noting of all the lasts. Like, for example -- my last walk to the barn to feed the animals...

And in fact, I may well eat breakfast on the porch again. So perhaps not the last...

My task for today is to do a walk through the farmhouse and open every cabinet and drawer to make sure all that I left behind should be left behind. Next job -- to unpack some more, and to make up a place to sleep at the Edge, and finally -- to install the second newly arrived TV. Let's just say I was more successful with some than I was with others.

And indeed, instead of concentrating on getting through my list, I added to it! I read on Facebook (cursed Facebook...) that Kopke's Greenhouse -- my source of annuals in spring -- has just received a small batch of frost friendly pansies. Limited supply! Wouldn't it be nice to see some flowers on my balcony? I pick some out and while I'm there, I add a tub of fall flowers, which of course have to include mums.

I'm not a great fan of the seasonal mums that burst forth in color and tempt everyone to pick up a pot or two or three. They have two things going against them: they are annuals, so once they fade, they're done and you might as well toss them. But unlike annuals that bloom all summer long, these guys have a life span of about two or three weeks! Still, if you want to put color on your balcony right now, this is the way to do it. Besides, I think the gardener there put together rather pretty combinations and since they are about to shut down for the year, they sold me the pots at a very great discount. 

(this is one of them)

 

 

At the Edge, I have a lot to lug up once again. For some reason I had completely forgotten to pack all the baking pans. A whole cabinet of them! How could that happen? Oh, that's right -- I ran out of boxes. But you know, this is the end of it. I think I'm officially done moving.

So... did I unpack? Yes, but not a whole lot. I got stuck with the TV installation once again. This time the set was just fine, but the cable service (which I purchased only because I do not want to fuss with an antenna) -- the installation of it completely threw me down a rabbit hole of questions and instructions that would probably be clear as day to anyone with some knowledge of all TV functions but if you just want your PBS and an occasional Amazon show and you're 72 years old -- forget it! I called a rep who could not believe my cable box did not have a magic reset button and after many minutes of back and forth (I'm not blind, just stupid as to cable, which I have never subscribed to... ever!), she finally agreed to send out a rep come Monday. Remember the days when you could just plug in a new TV??

I then set about to make my new bed. The mattress came with a package of (awful feeling) white linens, and I had washed these a few days back, in the ancient but very easy to operate Ed washing machine. But somehow I lost a pillow case in the process. How did that happen? I do not know. Do I have others? Yes, but they are in a box that clearly I did not mark as containing "pillowcases." Trivial problems. I will sleep on a new bed in a new home. Now, what are the chances of this being a good night for me? You guessed it! You are so wise...

In light of that, I finally sat down to lunch (granola bar and coffee) at 4:30. Who drinks coffee at 4:30 and expects to sleep well? Oh, who cares. I wanted my usual feel of comfort that a milky coffee brings me. 

 

 

In the evening I return to the farmhouse. Ed's farmhouse. I put the hens away, feed the cats, and make a supper of our hens' eggs, Ed's hens now, along with a salad, and I wait for his flight to come in so that I can drive him home. His home.

 

 

with so much love... 

to rush or not to rush..

Well, I added another hour to my sleep, so I'm just a few short of normal. This is good. I really need to rest more. And to take stock of the past ten days. When you gallop toward change, at some point you have to pause and breathe.  At some level I adjust to new things very quickly. It's my superpower. But at another, it will take a while to sort things out in my hand. Especially since Ed is away and there's a lot of uncertainty about what's next.

I see this day as having five stages: the morning farmette chores, fortified by breakfast. That's stage one. Next  -- a handful of hours at the new apartment (rather than using all those letters each time, let me give it a name, which actually is part of its real name -- the Edge). But I want to do stop-offs along the way: to deposit the two rugs that my rug cleaners would not touch, at a place that actually does like to wash wool rugs. And also to lug the broken TV to a UPS store so that I can send it back and get my refund. Meaning, there will be a little time to unpack boxes,  but not much. Goal for those hours: to fix the kids play area because both are coming there after school. I had hoped for a more finished apartment for them by now, but it is what it is. I expect to hear some grumbles, which I take as a reflection of their investment in life with me at the farmette. Kids can pivot, but not without a small rebellion first. Sort of like grownups, no?

After their visit (which would have been stage four), I'll put in another couple of hours at the Edge. Each small increment helps! Then it's stage five -- back to the animals at the farmette. On the one hand, my time at the farmette is a drain. So much driving! So much time taken away from unpacking!  But on the other hand, it's a godsend. I need my alone downtime. An evening of watching repeats of Frazier and sorting through emails and tidying up an Ocean post. Since I am so very sleep deprived, that tidying job is not great. (If I have time, I fix egregious errors in the morning.) A lot of word choices should have been fixed, a lot of wordiness edited out, but I do not worry too much about it. Daily blogging has its good days and its tough days. That is always the case, even without the upheavals. 

Okay, good morning farmette world! You (nearly) always look pretty early in the day!

I go to the orchard to see if there are any remaining peaches. I find three last ones! They're tiny!

 

 

In retirement, I wanted to move away from always rushing. And this morning, despite the packed agenda for the day, I feel I don't have to rush. Walk without running. Take things slowly. That'll be my style! 

It doesn't work out that way. A text comes in from a delivery service telling me that the delivery will require a signature and by the way, expect the item to come in (at the Edge) between 9:30 and 11:30. No! As I read this, the animals are fed, the basic morning routine is behind me, but, too, it is already five minutes before nine. So I rush. If I am lucky, I can load up the car and take the rugs to the new cleaners and make it to the Edge just a few minutes after the window for delivery opens.

Breakfast? Well, in the car, eating at red lights. (Guessing game: how long before the milky coffee, even if wedged snugly, spills all over the car's emergency brake? Spoiler alert: two minutes.)

 

 

I drop off the rugs and hurry, yes hurry to the Edge, coming in at 9:40. In the package comes at 10:50. I was there for it!

And maybe it's good that I rushed. I have more time now to unpack. Forget the furniture building -- that takes too long. Let me get the guest room/kids room ready. 

And I do finish unpacking for that space. All but the hanging of art on the walls. Looking at it, I know that it is more pleasing to me than it will be to them. It looks like a guest room, not a play room! 

 

 

 

But, there is a walk-in closet and most of their toys are in that closet, neatly spread out, easy to pick up. They'll have to take them out when they want to play with them. And I'm sure I'll be left with tidying them afterwards. I put the play foods in the chest of drawers, blessedly (for me) out of sight. Sandpiper still goes for those. The others have long moved on. Duplos, magnatiles, dolls, even the Lego table -- they're within reach but they require initiative. Honestly, I think it'll be good for them. And certainly it's very good for me!

Lunch is again in the car -- a Starbucks coffee and a granola bar, as I drive to deposit the dysfunctional TV at UPS. Why Starbucks, when I make such delicious (in my opinion) milky coffee at home? Well, I'm living between two households right now and the Edge is close to coffee shops for lunch. So for now, the coffee maker stays at the farmhouse, to be used in the mornings I'm there. I've been quite good in leaving things I need for the night and the morning at the farmette, though this morning I noticed that I have run out of clean clothes. They've all been moved! Hmmmm will anyone remember that I wore the butterfly t-shirt a day ago?

I pick up Sparrow who has been very agreeable and very chatty! To hear him talk about the social dynamics in the classroom, I sometimes think he is way ahead of the game on that one -- smarter than Ed, for instance!

Our new routine is that I take him to his house, where I give him his snack. From there, we go to pick up Snowdrop. Today we stop for ice cream because Sparrow has been complaining that we haven't had any such treat the entire new school year!

And then it's the Edge. As I open the door to my place, I note that their enthusiasm today is extra high. Is it that their mom told them something to the effect --"gaga is having a tough week, so be sure to be nice and supportive." They were indeed extra nice and supportive. Snowdrop went immediately to the new graphic novels I'd picked up for her,...

 

 

 

Sparrow was on his way to the legos, but got distracted by the mice! 

 

 

The boy did ask -- where can I have a calming space?  I gave that some thought: I dont recall creating a calming space for you at the farmhouse, but hey, maybe it's a good idea. What would you like in it? A beanbag!

So we looked for a beanbag on line and Sparrow finally liked one that wasn't costly or ugly (bean bags are going for upwards of $1000? Wow. This grandparent will look for something less pricey.)

And again, it's quite dark when I come home. Yes, home is where I sleep, and I'm still sleeping at the farmhouse, possibly for just this one last time. I find out late tonight that Ed comes home tomorrow.

 with so much love...

like travel only weirder

It is impossible to imagine a move without glitches. Like in travel, so many things can go wrong that counting on perfection is only going to leave you disappointed. You rarely get perfection and of course, that is not altogether bad, because through mishaps and miscalculations you learn and you grow.

But I don't think I learned anything or grew in any way today, as I sailed through the choppy waters of this very frustrating Thursday. (Sorry, I'm thinking about sailing these days.) 

So let's see, how many things made me feel annoyed (sometimes, but not always with myself)? Let's start with the morning: a better one, in that I doubled my sleep hours. I swear I logged in about four, in two different stages. (In between, I worried about something, only now I can't remember what.) I was dressed and ready by 7, but it took me forever to get organized. With what? I forgot. It was close to 9 when I finally fed the animals, noticing as I did so, that I had left the coop door open overnight. It's no use putting them away (which I do by putting them in through the roof of the coop extension) if I then leave the front door swinging. It's an invitation for predators to go in for the kill.

Luckily, no predator was lurking last night. All five accounted for. Fun fact: one of our hens is crowing. Did she switch genders??

Breakfast is late. On the porch, with peaches and farmette flowers.

 

 

 

Still scanning the rooms for forgotten items, making up a few more bags and boxes (I'm recycling the couple that are already empty), folding laundry -- sounds dreamy, right?

I'm on the road with a full car a little after 11. Just like the movers, only they started later and did more than simply add a few boxes and baskets and amazon deliveries in a car.

I suppose what slows me down is the heaviness of some of the items. I needed a small bookcase. I found one I liked that was just over $100 even as it was made from solid wood. From Brazil. We have a bunch of tall shelves that I've had since I moved to Madison in 1979, still working on (and never finishing) my PhD then, so money was very tight. The bookcases were cheap, but not quite ugly enough to replace. I'm still taking one of them with me, but I think the rest have to be retired. This new bookcase arrived at the farmhouse because I still often click through a sale too quickly and the old address pops into the order. Lugging the shelves from the front door to the car was a serious effort. Not to stop there: lugging them to the luggage cart at the apartment house and hoisting them onto it took time. Unpacking the boards took time. Putting them together? Are you kidding? There was no time.

Here's an accomplishment: I did put together a vacuum and swept up the apartment: floors and the hapless couch which the cleaners refused to clean. (They did clean the big rug and that looks beautiful!) And here's another heavy item: the new TV arrived. (I'm leaving the old one to Ed for reasons explained many days ago.) Taking it out of the box, unwrapping it -- time flew by way too quickly. It soon turned out to be the pick up hour for Sparrow. (Lunch? Granola bar en route.)

I did beg off childcare for today. Their mom was going to work at home, so after pickups, they could amuse themselves or play with neighborhood friends. But, I had prepared a fruit snack for both kids and I didn't take Snowdrop's out of the fridge, so I planned to make a stop at the apartment on my drive to get her. When Sparrow heard that, he asked to come, wanting very much to see the apartment. I thought this was a terrible idea. The place is a mess. It will only discourage the kids to see it that way. Still, the fruit was ready and waiting. So I agreed. First stop -- Snowdrop's school (or a couple of blocks away from it).

Then I take the two of them to the apartment for a first inspection. Some comments that came my way: "it feels small," "it reminds me of an AirBnB," and how about this one -- "I like the farmhouse better." Well yeah! These kids grew up with space. Sure, in their current home, two out of the three have to share a bedroom, but their play spaces are huge. I'm not going to even mention that when I was their age, all my toys fit in a cardboard box, which I kept under my bed. Most American kids these days are not  short on toys.

(Sparrow discovered the balcony!)

Predictably perhaps,he likes it and she... well, her heart is still at the farmhouse.

I'm not exactly discouraged though. Here's why: despite the disruption, despite the rather dramatic uncertainty at the moment as to what's next, I happen to really like the new place. I'm very lucky to have found it and I'm very grateful for past tenants who took the time to review the rather new building. In the olden days (!!) you asked friends about known vacancies, you read newspaper ads, you drove around with eyes wide open, and finally you came across an acceptable choice and you nabbed it. Now, all of my searching is online. That the unit feels so comfortable (well, eventually it will feel comfortable) -- I attribute that to the project owners and their architects. Thoughtful layout, good carpeting in the bedrooms, totally awesome amount of ceiling lighting. Again, it feels warm and welcoming.

But I have a lot of work before me. This afternoon, I return the kids to their home (five minutes away) and go back to attack the TV box. It's now just a little after 4. I really do want to unpack some more but I think the TV is the harder job, and I may never again get four hours of sleep this week. I'm bright and alert today. Let me tackle the set. I follow directions, screwing on the legs, linking the cables with the proper ports, and then allowing time for loading and updating all that you need to load and update. And on what must have been the last step, the TV (a beloved by all LG model) screen goes dark and I cannot get it to function again. I call the cable company. That's just plain stupid because it obviously has nothing to do with their service, but I hoped I'd get somewhere with them anyway. Their offices are about a mile from where I am. Maybe they have insights?

They have no insights. Call the LG rep.

It always takes time to hear a real human voice these days. but the LG phone one came with hardly a wait. She had me do countless things while she watched through the phone camera. She got it to light up, but on the second step it went dead again. You'll have to return it -- she tells me.

To Amazon? Damn. In other words, I have to unbuild it and pack it up. Well there goes my day! I leave the apartment at 7 because it's getting dark already. And I think -- I unpacked one box and I vacuumed and I assembled and disassembled a TV. That's it. Frustrating indeed!

My apartment projects will take time. There are a lot of them, from setting up an even newer TV, to building tables, chairs and racks and who knows what else. And yet, what I really want to do is make progress on the unpacking.  Let's see if I can speed this up tomorrow! 

I came home at 7:30 -- high time to lock up the chickens and feed the cats. I filled out the return at Amazon and asked for an even exchange of TVs. They refused it. I got a go ahead on the return, but a no go on a fresh set. I wondered if they'd sold out? No they haven't, there are plenty on the Amazon website. But the price has gone up by $100! I have to pay more now? How is that even fair?? It almost had me regret staying with the LG/Amazon partnership. But, one bad TV does not a bad company make. And maybe tomorrow will be less stressful and more productive. Like in travel, you expect the bounces. Today was a  bouncy day, both on the Atlantic Ocean and in my own navigation through my tasks. 

I always wondered what happens if day after day you do not get enough sleep. Do you start fainting? Does your appetite diminish? Do you catch every bug that circulates in the community? I'll  tell you what it feels like today: there is a world out there, and then there's my world and two aren't quite meeting up. Eyes are closing now constantly, but when I'm in bed, they will change their mind. But I aim high in life! I expected to find and move into a decent apartment almost immediately. No wonder it's taking me a while to finish up and move in.

with so much love...                           

a day like no other

I didn't finish packing the essentials until after 3 a.m. And I should say "finish" in quotes, because I simply gave up then. I ran out of tape and boxes and steam. 

On the upside, I had no trouble falling asleep at 4 a.m. On the downside, I had to be up and ready by 7.

(coming down...)

 

The movers were coming at 8 and, well, you know, there are the animals (I take greater care in the way I look at things this morning because, well, there aren't many mornings left here)...

And breakfast, a rushed one for sure, but it still had a farmette peach so I am (for the moment anyway) content.

The strategy now is to get the movers to take as much as possible even if it isn't carefully packed (like, a heavy box shut not-so-tightly with photo tape, or crates of legos and duplos and playfoods that dont quite have lids). The rest I would do myself (for example, I filled a shopping bag with wine glasses and drinking glasses and champagne flutes and glass dessert bowls -- they dont break unless you move suddenly, or put it down with too much energy).

The movers (Badger Brothers Moving) were awesome! And they were so pleasant to work with. Heroes, really.

Gabriel (the one on the left) commented -- the property is so lovely!

I simply reply -- yes, but it requires a lot of work. He asks -- couldn't you get a landscaping service to do it? And here it is, the whole fourteen years at the farmette, flash before my eyes. Yes, I moved here in 2011, just six years into my relationship with Ed. The farmette was so different then! Of course, there were no flowers, but the trees were small and there was plenty of sunshine. And still, I commented to Ed -- this place is going to swallow me...

Eventually we renovated the farmhouse  -- with a lot of bargaining and negotiating, but mostly Ed acquiesced. I had leverage -- the prospect of moving in, I had some savings -- if it isn't fresh and honest, I wont come. 

In the first years, we improved the structure and the lands. Sure we did. We built the porch and the glass roof. We fixed the front steps (he got around to it after many years of stalling).  He had someone repair the barn roof. We got chickens, we tamed feral cats, I almost got a goat. And we planted. Man oh man, did we plant! Flowers, fruits, veggies, meadows, vines, apple trees, pear trees, cherry trees, peach trees, nut trees, fir trees.

But then, something happened: you could say that nature and habit took over. Ed is lackadaisical about maintenance and care. If it ain't broken... And he got busy with his new machine design. And he has this thing about cutting down or even trimming trees. And so the inside of the house -- keeping it fresh and honest -- became my job, and the outdoor green spaces became... my job. Compounding factors: we both got a lot older! Twenty years ago when we started being "an item" I was a mere 52. I moved to the farmette when I was 58. A child! I have to boast -- I work as hard now as I did then. I really do. But, the wild side of nature is winning the fight outside, and the cats and Ed and normal wear and tear are winning the fight inside. (Why are there still holes in the ceiling after our bathroom leak several years back? Why are there so many cobwebs? Why are there crack in the plaster? Why is the stair rail perpetually sticky?Why is the carpet so dirty??)

None of this was a game changer for me. I love Ed and I love many aspects of farmette living. And he never asked me to be the work horse here. But, as I leave the place now, I think -- wow, this place needs more work than we have been, I have been giving it. 

 

Ed called tonight just as I was driving back to the farmhouse (for the animals -- all of whom are very mad that most of their favorite chairs and resting places have disappeared). He's truly sorry that I have to do so much back and forth driving now that he's away, but it cannot be helped. Anyway, the apartment isn't ready yet. Horror of horrors, there's not even a trash can, because the one I purchased is too big! If Ed has taught me anything, it is to have as little trash as possible. At the farmette, we put out our trash can just once every two weeks and usually it's maybe half full.  

Even though I am sure Ed continues to think that I am insane to be doing this, he does want to be (at this moment) helpful and before he left, he had volunteered to help with the move, if I would wait for his return. I tell him tonight that it took the movers two hour and a half hours to carry down and out heavy furniture and a large number of poorly packed boxes. And they wrapped things carefully in quilts, and they had a truck with a ramp. Had we done the move ourselves, it would have taken us two and a half grueling weeks.

Everything went well. Okay, everything that the movers did, went well. Me, I carried Sparrow's Lego project up from the garage and the thing fell off the trolley and scattered all over the garage floor. It did that twice. I finally stuffed the pieces in my shorts pockets (did I tell you? It is beastly hot in Madison this week!), but of course, the damage was done.

And the carpet cleaners? They came. Two of them. And they decided they can't wash the couch in the apartment unit because it may turn brown from the treatment. But, but, I've washed the cushion covers myself! They were fine! His answer -- we bring special water here. And the carpets are lovely but are they wool? Yes -- I say with some pride. I got one in Turkey and the other two in Tucson at a carpet fair! He shakes his head: you know from doing laundry that wool is very unpredictable. (Ha! I just shrunk a blanket by washing it last week!) We wouldn't want to ruin it for you. I wanted to say -- what kind of well rated carpet and furniture cleaners are you that you cannot clean wool carpets and you cannot clean a locally purchased bland couch? Instead I say -- oh. And then he offers -- but I can take your three rugs to the shop and do the job there. Would you like that? Seems like the company he works with could save a lot of time and money by asking some questions at the outset over the phone but hey, he's offering to lug these things and wash them so I have little to complain about.

The big pieces of furniture are now in the new place. I still have to build one bookshelf and one coffee table, and figure out how the TV works (Ed's wiring of our old TV here defies logic or understanding) but there is no hurry. I have to find a sheet for the bed. Did I tell you? Ed and I have only one fitted sheet at home. On laundry days, I wash it in the morning and sleep in it that same night. Yes, you could say we are frugal, both of us in our own ways. I save my retirement funds for travel and the grandkids. Ed saves for the pleasure of not spending. And of course, I have to finish moving clothes and kitchen stuff, but the bulk of it is there, in the wee apartment looking over not at a garbage dump (except on the days they have trash removal), but on a park! And a cornfield, and then a commercial glass and steel office building. It's that kind of a neighborhood!

I wont post photos of it tonight -- not of the grassy view, not of the interior -- not until I have it mostly in order. But I'll show you this -- it's a little magnetic bulletin board and shelf outside each door. I think it's there to emphasize that the building is a community. That people ought to treat it as a place to meet others, to be friendly and curious about their neighbors. True, it reminds me of the little shelf outside my mother's assisted living unit, where people also put out stuff to say something about their likes and foibles, but here it feels somehow different. And honestly, the tenants I've met are really friendly and kind, as evidenced by the reaction to my Lego spill in the garage, or by the warm greeting I got from the Colombian (she volunteered) mom and son, both of whom are my neighbors -= and I couldn't be happier with that: no way will they be blasting loud thumping music late into the night. Many residents don't bother with the magnets, but some people go all out. I took the middle path, helped tremendously by my collection of magnets from the past three years -- a new thing for me, done to get myself away from purchasing more expensive items when I travel. They've been at the side of our fridge, but no one in my family sees them, no one cares about them. (They don't need to "learn about me" though my magnets.) Here's my carefully curated magnet board:

So which is home now? Well, the farmette, sort of. Until I sleep there, at the apartment, I can still title my photo file "farmette days" because my days still do orbit around this place. Will it ever stop being my world? That, my dears, is a complete mystery to me for now.  

One day at a time. Right now, I'm sitting on the lesser couch in a very empty farmhouse living room. I have sat in this spot so often, with Ed coming down the stairs, or walking up the path, that I can't help but feel him to be here, just steps away. I expect to hear the door opening any minute and I listen for it. This is what made all these years of farmhouse messes and weedy terrain irrelevant. We were bonded. We are bonded, only we are old, and I find it tough to live only in the moment at this point in my life. But, one day at a time!

with so much love (and gratitude to all those who wrote!)...  

  

sleepwalking

Again I wake up after a mere couple-hour doze. It's not quite 2 a.m.. Go to sleep, go to sleep, don't think now, go to sleep. And yet, I do think. I can't help it. I'm behind in packing, I don't get how I am going to fit in a table builder, a carpet cleaner, and the movers, all at the same hour tomorrow, and shouldn't I buy a flashlight? Too, as the only decent place to sit in my new home, the couch will get quite the workout-- especially from the kids, who heretofore spent most of the hours on the lesser couch, where cherry juiced fingers and chocolate covered faces were tolerated because, well, it was the lesser couch, and it had a cotton blanket over it. An ugly orange blanket, because the too-small couch that was there before had been orange, and the kids got attached to it, and complained bitterly when we threw it out. So shouldn't I get a couch cover, since I'm walking away with the better couch now? I google "best couch covers." It seems everything is rated these days and there are many links to seemingly ugly but apparently best couch covers. And when I pick one and post my credit card number, it strikes me that I'd never heard of this company and is it actually legit? There's no address, no phone number, just an email. I send them a message to cancel the order. We'll see how that goes. By four, I remember that I have a grocery delivery to the farmhouse in the late morning, but maybe I should add milk because I'm drinking so much coffee so milk becomes an essential. Oh, and more ice cream bars for the kids because they sure go through them quickly. And then I try to sleep again and it doesn't work at all, and so now it's six and all hope for a good night is lost.

Animals. And a very spent garden which I haven't touched for days.

Breakfast. A little anxious, a lot sad. But, it's morning, I'm in my high energy mode insofar as you can be high energy on so little sleep.

I had made a list of all that I have to take today to the apartment, but mostly I have to hurry because Hector is coming at 9:30. Hector, I thought, would be putting together the night table, but in fact he is doing the bed. If and when he comes. (Meanwhile the coffee table lies waiting for my own construction effort. Someone on Amazon said it only took him one hour. Looking at it, I think he was bragging.)

Once more I've had filled grocery bags with the next load from the farmhouse. I have to use them, because I do not have enough boxes and what I have, has to be for stuff movers lug. 

I rush. I'm there at 9:29. There is no Hector. 

Now come the calls to Wayfair. Friendly people, but I get disconnected twice, maybe because I'm on the phone while riding the elevator and going to the garage to pick up those damn fragile grocery bags.

Just as I am about to give up on Hector and return to the farmhouse (because the groceries are to arrive soon, and in those bags there will be ice cream bars and it's 800 degrees today), he shows up. Look, I've been texting you! He has proof. I tell him -- sorry you're late, I have to go back to the farmhouse because there are groceries, can I leave you alone here? Just close the door when you leave without locking it. There is NOTHING of value here except the bed and I do not think anyone will take it out.

Luckily he is agreeable.

At the farm I pack up more bags, supplementing them with the occasional box. And here's another stumbling block: alcohol. I dont drink anymore but my supplies are substantial because I liked variety. Campari, Aperol, Vermouth. Cassis. Gin, Vodka, Prosecco. What the hell am I to do with all that? I decide to take them with me. Who knows, maybe I'll sink into desperation one day and open everything and sit out on the balcony and get one huge alcoholic buzz. (That would happen if, for example, I got diagnosed with cancer and found that I had only a month to live. Though maybe all that booze would just depress me? Still, I pack it up and take it. Maybe someone will invite me someday to a party and I'll come well equipped with presents.)

I also take my trio of succulents. So small last year, so big now! Should I transplant them? I have no idea. But the windows in the bedrooms actually have ledges and they are so sunny! Cacti, you are about to discover bliss!

Ed calls. They're still motoring because the winds are so low. That's a blow to him, as he hates motoring. The whole point of this was for him to hoist those sails and watch them ripple in the wind, while a salty spray of ocean water drenches his face, all this while the sky is ablaze with stars. He likes to take the night shift. But so far there has been no wind. Still, the crew is agreeable and smart, and today they sail through the Cape Cod straight and tomorrow they'll pass New York City. It must be a full circle for him: New York is where he first sailed with his dad. Lovely man, I hear. I'm sorry I never met him. 

And yes, it takes forever to again load the car and even longer to unload it. Once inside, I put away a few items, but not much. And yet I do think the place is coming together! Here's the bedroom, looking out at Old Sauk Trails park. 

p

Time to pick up Snowdrop at school.

 

We go to the farmhouse, even if it has to be a short visit. She will be the last child to come to the farmhouse while things are still normal. Wait, am I really calling this chaos "normal?" I hope she is not traumatized by it!

And then I drop her at her Girl Scout meeting. It's close to her home and so it's close to my apartment. I drive over and put together two lamps and throw away the wrappings from the bed. And I come back to this reality: I have less than 12 hours before the movers come... and the toys and kid books are not yet packed and neither are my clothes. The kitchen? Maybe half carted over already, because I do not want to pack up each single plate. I take all fourteen big ones and 15 smaller ones and put them in Sparrow's car seat and try hard not to swerve.  

It's going to be a very long night, but you know, all these days of no sleep have put me in such a daze, that it's all one big sleepwalk by now. 

Thank you for thinking of me!
 

with so much love... 

night and day

In the early hours of the night, I run through my usual bedtime routines and I feel the anxiety mount: this is insane, I'm thinking. My world is twisting sideways, heading into the unknown and honestly, everything had been so fine! Well, almost everything.

In the morning, I think about none of that. I am energized by all that I have to do to pivot onto this new track. A detour rather than a complete redirect, because I remain confident that this will be resolved. (Not sure if Ed feels the same way -- he lost control over this one and let me tell you, most men I know have issues with losing control. At least men in my generation. Still, there is so much love at the farmhouse...)

I go out to feed the animals. 

 

 

And I do a spot check of the meadows. The front one, planted just this year... So pretty now!

 

 

The peach orchard meadow is next. Oh! I should be picking the peaches! They've been falling already. I pause to gather some now.

 

 

 

I eat breakfast: peaches from the orchard, flowers from the meadow.

 

 

Then tidy the house, and load the car with the first batch of stuff for the new apartment.

Here's a hint for those getting ready to move: do not pack stuff into paper grocery bags. Do not do this. You're not convinced? Well then at least do not then pile them one on top of another and hope they stay intact. Because when bags start ripping left and right, you're in trouble. Just some friendly advice. 

About that apartment. Here's the building: my unit of course isn't one of the fancy angular ones (made a little bit more angular by my straightening of the photo).  I'm with the  more conventional balcony and a window to each side set up. But they are not small windows!

 

 

 

Every place in the world has its issues and these, of course, are all trivial, but I do worry about noise. Remember, this is a music themed building. I got a present of sunglasses and magnet saying something about rocking, and they dont mean in a chair. They have music concerts in the common area quite often. And no, it's not classical music! 

Other issues? Well, the view is not of farmette gardens. But it's got its good side: I have an expanse of green out my windows. I see no residences from my place, and no one sees mine. This is great, because I like to have shades up pretty much always. And the staff of the building -- they're really lovely. And little perks that many of you take for granted: there is a heated garage. No more icy winter walks to the car. And there's even a pool. (Many large complexes in the suburbs here have pools. Depending on its usage, that may be an exercise virtue, though of course, our swimming season is short.) 

Here's an important fact: it's thoughtfully laid out and it is immaculate. And only two years old, so they've addressed modern day issues -- charging station, lots of plugs, good wiring, good appliances, islands, granite, etc. But perhaps the most important virtue is that it is close to my daughter's home. Four minute car ride, twenty minute stroll. It's also close to the heart of the little satellite town where she lives. I can walk to several coffee shops, the library, the post office. 

But the building itself is in an area that is a mix of commercial and residential. It's on the wrong side of the highway. Whereas my daughter's home is in a lovely residential neighborhood that abuts the downtown, mine is a place of cars zipping in and out of large parking lots with mega restaurants and a couple of shops that you'd maybe find in malls. 

And finally, here's the peachy plum for me: the apartment may not have many windows (just three, all on one end), but they are large and they face the south. I live for sunlight flooding my day!  

I have a keys handover appointment and so I load the car and get going. (With a stop at Walgreens for Covid vaccination!)

Heidi  and Corey are the two staff members I deal with and they are really lovely people. Just awesome! And as I enter the apartment (only for the second time), I think -- oh, but it really is grand! Not very large (1007 sq ft/ 93 sq m), but just perfect for me, with an extra room for sleepover guests and for the toys that I have to bring with me.

And now it's a question of bringing in the bags of stuff (that rip and spill at every turn), the boxes of deliveries (that will need to be assembled) and start thinking about what goes where. And to do another round trip to the farmhouse, to get more bags of stuff (that rip at every step of the way).

And the sunshine comes in and the internet guy comes over and sets up the internet and I am just so  grateful for the smoothness of the operation.

I return to the farmhouse for a late afternoon Zoom with my distant (in location) friends. How lovely people have been! So much understanding for this very difficult moment! 

In the evening I take care of the animals and pack some more, no longer harried or anxious. I know this will work out. How and in what direction -- I cannot tell, but it will work out!

with so much love...