and the one after...

Can I brag a little? I'm good in a moment of crisis. I'm sure I will be the one dragging people out of an airplane after it crashes. If I'm told I must pack my bags, leave the country, and go into hiding, I'll start making lists of what to take. Maybe people who get tossed around between cultures, people with somewhat clueless and robotic parents, people who take on change as if it were part of the everyday (did I tell you about the day I got fired from a job? No? Well now, that was a life changing event!), maybe people like that are all good at the moment of The Great Unravel. I seem to have a pattern: crisis leads to quick action (remove passengers from plane!), followed by emotion (lots of tears), followed by very speedy mobilization. 

I am at this moment in my "very speedy mobilization" phase. 

But of course, there are the chores.

 

And breakfast. I thought I'd be eating alone, since I'm being a tough as nails partner right now...

But no, Ed wants to join me.

He makes another rather feeble attempt to get me to drop my idea of moving next week. Feeble, because he knows it's pointless: I've decided this is good, that there is no other way (that I can think of) to get him to focus on what he needs to focus on in order to preserve the awesome partnership (what a poor word choice that is! but is there another?) that we have going. Besides, I've signed a lease.

 

It is going to be an unusual move, to be sure. Ed will be out all week sailing. My lease starts Monday, but the movers aren't coming until Wednesday, so before that I'll be carting stuff myself. And because Ed will be gone for a few days (how long? we dont know -- ocean sailing is always unpredictable), I'll basically have to be at the farmhouse at least twice a day, and perhaps overnight. Without a mattress. Because of the animals. So, partially moved, for only part of the time.

I gently remind him that we were supposed to be biking in Door County this month (his idea) and that he let that one slide. And at least on this one, he feels sheepishly bad: let's go when I come back from sailing! Come on, we can stay in a really nice place! I have to smile at that: Ed, I'm moving for a reason! I'm not paying rent elsewhere to go on a vacation with you! At the same time, he knows and I know that we will be spending time together in the months ahead. How much time together? I haven't decided. We will see. 

 

with so much love... 

and the next day...

I woke up thinking that I took a step in the wrong direction. That I can slide the whole discussion Ed and I have been having under the rug and we can go on as before, and life would be so good, so easy! He has been trying very hard to get me to change my mind about moving. I can change my mind. Deposit lost, but mental health preserved. 

But then, I ask -- and you are willing to meet me halfway on this issue? Because to me, it's imperative that you are willing.

And we talk some more, all morning long and I see that he just wants a free pass, a slide under the rug, to be maybe resolved in the future and I have to remind him: Ed, we do not have much future left! We should have resolved this years ago! 

The move plans, therefore, are not altered. The lease is under my review. I sign it. The movers are booked.

 

I walk to the barn with a half smile. A week ago, I would have never guessed that I wont be watching the seasonal changes at the farmette through the kitchen window. 

Ed is up early and hovers in the kitchen as I fix breakfast for myself.

 

 

 

First, he trims some tomatoes from our garden for me to cook up tonight...

Then, of all things, to decides to bake an apple pie.

How many times has he baked an apple pie? Any pie?  

We talk again about how this move of mine is supposed to play out. He is so in favor of postponing it (well, actually cancelling it). But I don't see the point of dawdling and I haven't a clue how else to open his eyes to the fact that the ball is in his court. Even if he doesn't see it there.

All morning long I work on a massive clean out. This is the good side to all this! I am finally motivated to go through stacks of kid books, plastic toys, my old papers, clothes, all that. We have a car full of bags packed for Goodwill. 

And then it's time for me to pick up the girl.

Radiant and happy.

 

 

 

And just a little bit worried about her future at the farmhouse. About her future with Ed. We will both keep on reassuring her, but of course, we're on a new path here. Ed and I can only hope that it's leading to a good place. Maybe wanting a good outcome (as we both do) is enough. We shall see.

with so much love... 

 

blowin' in the wind

Here's my way of making big, life changing decisions: I give it a fleeting thought one day, I let it slide, and then I return to it and decide. With some consideration to the consequences, but just the most obvious ones, like -- will this kill me? Otherwise, I face whatever then follows.

That kind of impulsiveness is regarded in our society as a flaw of character. Unmeasured, Juvenile almost. Many have questioned how it is I go about selecting life's partners, but basically, it's worked out okay. My marriage lasted 28 years. And Ed? We've been going strong for twenty years and I have loved most every minute I have spent with him.

But last night, we got stuck, on a topic where we do have some difference of opinion. And we reached no solution and I decided that we are not likely to reach a solution any time soon. Suddenly trying to work out something is feeling so laborious, even though it should be so easy.

So I decided to move out. At least for a while.

To be clear: I am not mad at Ed. I love him. He loves me. But there have always been two imperatives that can make this work for me despite our differences and he's choosing to ignore one of them for reasons that aren't clear to me, so here we are, in love, but about to be separated.

People are indeed strange, to which category I most certainly belong.

But, but, what about my flowers?? Indeed. I can't afford to go to a place that will provide even one tenth the land (and my love for it) that the farmette provides. So I'm going with no land. No nature out the back door. No city either, just an expanse of lawn which I hate, but this is what you get if you move to an apartment building just at the edge of the city. Lawn, and I do believe there is a garbage dump below. 

And yet, I feel this is what I must do. Not so much to preserve my honor. I have no honor. But, I do not want to feel the way I feel now. Ed and I cannot remain suspended like this. One of has to make a move. I'm taking the initiative.

 

In the morning I feed the animals...

Eat breakfast alone...

And go out on an apartment hunt.

Actually, things being what they are, I did the hunt on line in the middle of the night first. It was a process of elimination. I dont like most apartment buildings nor their location.  The walls will be thin, there will be noise. I hate noise. But, it's clean and it has western exposure. So, sunshine. Just three windows and all on one wall -- another huge difference from where I live now -- with windows on all four sides. I swore I would never again live without large windows everywhere and yet here I am.

The building I found has a motif of rock bands (I kid you not). Tells you what they're aiming for, right? But apart from that, it feels okay. A place for the car, for my bike. Small rooms that have me scratch my head -- where is the table for family dinners supposed to go?? 

Why does it not bother me? Well, it does, but I am so bothered by losing what we have shared for twenty years that nothing else seems all that important.

 

In the meantime, in the afternoon, I still have the kids to pick up. I tell them that they will always be welcome at the farmette, but what a farmette it is slated to be now -- furniture missing, garden overrun...

Not this place anymore... Giggles and hose sprays and trees to climb and always always flowers for them to pick.

So this is where I am at. Ed is heading out on a sailing trip this weekend. I'm charged with minding the fort in his absence. And I will of course. But too, I'll be moving. With lots of tears. How can it be otherwise. When he returns from his trip, he'll help me set up the TV and the internet in the new place. Probably stay for supper. Just not at the farmhouse.

With so much love... 

 

Chicago

It is a stunningly beautiful day in Chicago. Cool, sure, but that just adds to the charm. Clear blue skies out the window of my hotel room... Wait, not exactly skies: there's more to see out there: imagine, people living one on top of the other... That's a city for you.

 

 

 

I want to get to the young family's home rather quickly. I will have missed their outing to the farmers market (too early for me!), but I most certainly want to be there for Juniper's first soccer practice this year.

Except, my Uber decides to ditch my call at the last minute. So I have to wait for another. And the second Uber takes the express lanes on the highway and then can't get off of them anywhere near where he is supposed to get off. I'm amused. But I do need to pivot: okay driver, I changed my mind, let's go straight to the park. Oh, city travails! But, I do get there in time for the arrival of the little girl, ready for her soccer game!

She is with the 3/4 year old set. Warm-ups first!

And now for some practice. Juniper is a great dribbler and kicker! Waiting for the right moment to kick it in...

Nice work, Juniper!

(where there's a park, there's a playground)

 

 

From there, we go to brunch. I asked to return to the Lonesome Rose. It's been a while.

These are the last few moments I have with the younger family. 

It's not a very long visit, but it has all the requisite elements: I am part of their weekend. I see what the girls are up to. I catch up with the parents. I eat grandly with all of them. And I coordinate plans for my next Chicago visit. And of course, I get to hang out with these two:

 

On the drive home, as always, I go over all the little details of my time with all four of them. I can really savor it, let it swirl and settle in my head, in my heart. So much joy and satisfaction from one overnight! So greatly looking forward to the next one!

 

At home, Ed wants to head out for a walk. I'm willing, but it really is buggy out there once again. How is it that we cannot get these mosquitoes to retire for the season?! Still, we walk. We need it, bugs or no bugs. I take no photos. This is not the time to pause for anything. Walk and swing your arms and occasionally slap your face when they land. And hope that this really is the last of them.

In the evening I catch up on reading. Here's an interesting story about what's new in Warsaw, Poland: a brand new library at the metro station? Indeed! 

Tomorrow I return to my routines. It's been a full weekend!

with lots of love... 

to Chicago

It's been too long since I've seen the younger family. August travels -- theirs and mine -- cut out the possibility of meeting up before the start of the school year and now here we are in the grip of autumnal weather. Time to head south, to Chicago.

 Because the two grandgirls there have weekend activities, I'm not in a rush to get to Chicago. Indeed, I have time to harvest some peaches to take with me, and to pack up corn from Stoneman's. And of course, I take the time to check things outside and to feed the animals....

 

(the last of the last) 

(dahlias and nasturtium)

(path to barn)

 

 

I have time for breakfast with Ed...

And I have time to go to the market on my way out. To get Wisconsin flowers for the Chicago guys. 

The downside of this rather leisurely start to my trip is that I hit more traffic coming into the city. Ah well. It gives me time to think. 

Two young families of mine: so different, with one leading a very Madisonian family life, the other filling its days with the very best of a city life. I think about yesterday's get-together in Madison. It was to be small. It wasn't small. And there were kids. Young, and some not so young -- middle school bound! Five of those kids slept over -- friends, banding together. Snowdrop loves this, as does Sparrow, and Sandpiper goes along because that boy loves chaos. I'm not sure when anyone could clean up after the party, or after the sleepover. But eventually order will be restored. 

In Chicago, too, though there are only two kids, the whirligig  of weekend activities is in full swing. One girl danced, then had a birthday party, the other girl is off with mom picking up treats at a favorite bakery. Tomorrow she'll play soccer while the family cheers on. In there we will fit in some playtime and meals together. 

Two families, so different in the minutia, perhaps style, but at the core, the same, really. A strong foundation of love, kindness, prioritizing concern for others, prioritizing growth and learning. And with ready fixes to those snafus and stumbles that I myself couldn't figure out as a young parent, young wife, newly formed American. I'm not sure my own parents wanted me to do better than they did (other than financially -- they thought I should have married into wealth; I did not), or wanted me to find a different path, to repair their blunders, to find joy in each and every day, but I sure did want that for my kids. And here I am feeling rewarded, because their family lives are in fact better than what I had to offer. I may have repaired my parents' obvious missteps, but I didn't repair all of them, perhaps not even enough of them. One could debate this. But these two daughters of mine, on the other hand, are hugely happy, with solid friendships and a grand homelife with husbands who care deeply about the same stuff and in much the same way they do.

These were my thoughts driving into Chicago. 

I do get to my girl's home just in time to see Juniper "walking" with her mom, holding on to bakery treats.

(lunch, with a sneak bite of a cookie)

 

 

And eventually, Primrose comes back from her Saturday event, excited to share details of her slime party...

 

 

... and to listen in on a story her dad is reading to her sister...

 

 

 

(with a post-nap hair fix for the little girl)

 

 

... and now I have before me the whole family of four as they teach me about the virtues of K-Pop music.

We eat dinner at Bar Parisette -- a lovely Chicago bistro that really does bring the culinary delights of that  French city right to their doorstep.

 

 

 

I know myself well enough that I don't linger after dinner at their place. I have a hotel room downtown at the Sofitel, because all their neighborhood hotels were already booked solid by the time I looked around for a room for the night. The Sofitel has great last minute deals and it, too, has enough elements of Frenchness to make me feel I've taken a trip to some place that's just a little removed from my faremette everyday.

It's been a lovely day! The girls are getting to be so... not little anymore. A joy to watch, to talk to, and yes, because I can exercise grandparental rights -- to hug whenever the occasion presents itself. It is just a snapshot of their city life, but it is full of color and clarity and all those hues of warmth and love.

Yes, so much love... 

 

record cold?

Seriously? We're going to go down that low? Yes, I feel it. So much so that we turned on the furnace yesterday. 43F (6C) outside means that the old farmhouse quickly sheds its summer warmth. Turns out that the ancient shibboleth about old people not liking to feel cold holds some truth to it. Ed and I are not aiming to move south for the winter, but I have noticed that we use throws and quilts on the couch, especially in the evenings (but not only), more and more often. 

Cool or not cool, morning chores beckon.

But breakfast most assuredly is indoors. For both of us today!

I wouldn't call it the best day for a bike ride and honestly, I'd happily spend the rest of the morning elevating my foot and reading my crime novel, but the fact is, we are on the last days of Stoneman's corn and I want to stock up for a couple of weeks of rather regular evening corn nibbling. Too, I think I could use another dozen for shucking and freezing. So we set out. 

(the ones on the bench are ours: we're figuring out how to pack them for the very windy ride home!)

 

 

(for winter eating)

 

 

And now the day (and indeed, the entire weekend) turns interesting. Yes, I have to pick up the two kids at school -- first Sparrow then Snowdrop.

(no, not these three! just the kids!)

 

 

But we do not come back to the farmhouse. Instead, I spend the afternoon at their place, because my daughter is having a get together of friends and associates and I promised her I'd bake my famous gougeres for the event.

My famous gougers -- now that's a laugh. They are not mine. The recipe belongs to L'Etoile Restaurant, But a couple of decades ago, I worked there as a weekend baker and I was charged with baking croissants occasionally and gougeres rather regularly. And I'll say this much: when I quit (because working two jobs and rasing a family and volunteering at the kids' schools was proving to be too much), the person who took over the gougere production did not get them 100% right,  producing, in my opinion, inferior gougeres! Oh the horror of seeing flattened puff balls sold at their Saturday bakery stand! 

The problem is this: I haven't baked them in decades. I do not even remember what small piece of wisdom I introduced to the task that would in fact produce a stellar cheese puff ball. And still, I agreed. And in my daughter's kitchen no less. And with kids darting in and out of my field of vision. And other cooking projects underway as well.

Were they as good as those way back when? Who can remember!  They seemed good enough.

The gathering of friends and colleagues was a delight and a success, though I have long realized that I am not great with remembering people I met only once or twice in the past, so I spend a lot of time avoiding treacherous topics that would reveal my confusion. And at this party, I was easily twice the age of most attendees (well, maybe not twice, but close!) and I surely did not want anyone to feel they were stuck to talking to the old lady present, so I roamed from one group to the next, and baked, and roamed some more, and drank lots of nonalcoholic beer.  

And then I came home -- late, quite late -- and had a bowl of soup with Ed, burrowing under a quilt on the couch with him because guess what -- it's cold out there!

with love... 

 

foot up

I do love being older. Having more time. Not worrying about absurd realities that I know I cannot change, nor that they can change me. I love reading more, resting when I feel I need it, getting a senior pass for rail travel (in some countries), for air travel (on some airlines), and for theater entrances. I love not being responsible at times, not caring about long term effects of this or that. Hey, I even love using face creams! All my younger years I worried about "breaking out." No more. This morning I applied a tonic and a cream -- total indulgence! I love that I can temper the worries of the younger generation, that I can hug grandkids even when they're older and past the cuddle stage, that I can tell stories from several generations back, when things were really different!

But I'm not too crazy about having to get up early, so that morning chores had to be done at a clip...

 

 

 

 

Including the gathering of peaches...

And I even had to eat breakfast alone, because Ed was busy with a Zoom work call and I could not wait...

All because I had to show up at a podiatrist's office to get toe surgery done this morning, postponed from earlier dates when I believed it to be too inconvenient. When I was young, I didn't even know what a podiatrist did. Yes, take care of feet. Maybe old people's feet? Oh, right, I am that person!

And now here I am, scrolling through amazon, looking for espom salts. Epsom salts! Sounds like something my great grandmother would have used to soothe frazzled nerves or constipation, no?

Elevate your foot! -- my doc warns me. And what do I do with that elevated foot back at the farmhouse? Well, what else can I do... read a book, take a nap. Old person stuff.

 

But by early afternoon, I'm ignoring my doc's advice: I need to try out this new school pick-up routine. First comes Sparrow, having had a fine day today!
 

I take him home, his home. A snack, a pause, and we're off now to pick up his sister, who also had a good day. 

Trying to have a sensible conversation with my surgical tool manipulating doc, I had asked her about her kids. She has a daughter just a year older than Snowdrop and she moaned and groaned about how much small social slights bothered the girl (and seemed to affect a slightly older son not at all). All morning long, I had to address one issue after the next from her long list of social worries. Snowdrop takes these things in stride and yet, she is quite aware of playground dynamics in ways that her younger brother is not yet noticing. But Sparrow, too, can be sensitive to slights and corrections. My teacher gives bad comments to the good eggs in the class and good comments to the bad eggs in class. I suggest that maybe she wants to motivate the "bad eggs" to change their ways. It doesn't work -- he assures me. 

All this is good fodder for car ride conversations as I drive first one, then the both of them to the farmhouse.

And after they are returned to parental care, I am back on the couch, foot elevated, waiting for my epsom salts to arrive, thinking a cup of tea would be nice. Maybe with a biscuit, while I smooth back my graying hair?

with love...