community

The Edge -- the place I live in now -- attracts renters by creating something akin to a residential community. The on-sight managers entertain ideas on what to sponsor -- there are game nights, movie nights, and of course music nights. I say of course because the owners of the building love music and have made this the theme of the place. Well, at least of the corridors. Here's my floor's wall art. (That's Keith Urban. Not that I would have recognized him -- a New Zealand country singer. I know nothing about country music except that Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton sang it.)

 

 

 

You can tell that some residents are really into this, and some are completely uninterested. I decided tonight to attend this month's music event to see who turns up.

But of course all that comes later. 

*     *     *

I wake up a bit too early, but to splendid golden sunshine.

And breakfast again on the island. 

And then I dig in a bit more into my neighborhood. The other day Snowdrop told me how nice Middleton is (that's the name of the town I now live in). How it's got everything you may need without being overwhelming. Well that's true, but on my side of the highway, it's pretty overwhelming. Apartments, hotels, office buildings, chain restaurants and outlet stores. You get the picture. But here's a surprise: on Thursday mornings, it has a farmers market.  I can walk to it -- a mere ten minutes on foot. 

It's small. Really small. But it has a steady trickle of regular customers. They drive over and then head straight for the one big produce stand (there's one more, but it's small; the rest of the vendors are of the prepared foods and unknown to me breads variety).

That one large produce stand is Natalie's!

We chat. She is one sweet friend! And as a bonus, she still has corn. 

*     *     *

Back in my apartment, I cant help feeling charmed by the sunshine pouring in. Yes, it does make the apartment warm, but in the winter it should be heavenly snug. I go out on the balcony and look at what I thought was a narrow strip of park, but actually it is a "Park," of the kind where you park cars. And after, a few trees and a randomly planted corn field. And after, more office buildings. I like the absence of windows anywhere at all peering at me, but I have to wonder -- what is that empty expansive parking lot? It seems not attached to much of anything.

So I ask at the front desk. Will there be construction there? What's that lot all about? The Edge person responds -- well, there used to be a restaurant there I think. 

Oh yeah?

And then it burned down.

So, are they developing it into something else soon? I mean, it seems prime land...

Well, I guess people think the space is jinxed, so they're not rushing. You know, people are superstitious.  

I suppose at some subliminal level we all are a bit spooked by things we have no business being spooked about (except for Ed, who is not spooked by anything). But to this extent? 

 *     *     *

Ed calls. Listen Gorgeous, I'm in the new orchard and there's golden rod in the meadow. Should I pull it out? 

Damn it Ed, why must you ask this only now, when I am no longer doing these hard tasks? I suppose he'd say -- you never asked. And I'd answer -- you never offered. And there you have it.

 

*     *     * 

In the afternoon I do the school rounds. First Sparrow then Snowdrop, then ice cream for both. Our weekly treat.

Both kids but especially Sparrow are still really upbeat about the Edge. They can't wait until Sunday dinner so that they can introduce the Edge to Sandpiper. At four years, I'm not sure Sandpiper fully understands what a move is. Having space at the farmhouse was important to him. How will he play here? We will see. 

 

*     *     * 

The evening hour (plus) of music is by Bruce Wasserstrom. He's a jazz and blues guy and I like both, but I'm not at all plugged into the local music scene here, being rather isolationist in my music listening habits. Still, today I go down.  

 

Maybe a dozen others are there, some coming and going. The ones that linger are... the older set. Well, okay, I'm older. Let's see who, from this demographic, lives here and why: an older couple -- they have to be at the extreme end. Both in their early eighties. Then there's  Ferdy -- I'd say fifties. Jess -- fifty-ish. But why choose this place? What drew them here? I hear a variety of reasons: lived at a senior housing place, weren't ready for the vibe there. Just came back from living in London because teen age son hated it there. Lived with daughter and her kids and was ready to downsize. 

And still, to me it felt strange to be there. Reminiscent of the year of my divorce when I was determined to meet people and branch out (and then I met Ed and I stopped meeting people and branching out). Two weeks ago I had no interest at all in going anywhere but to the couch after sunset. Here I am, socializing? It felt like I'd been plucked out of my life and placed into someone else's.

On the upside, the people were nice and we made plans to meet up on the rooftop soon to watch the sunset while the weather was warm. I'm sure I will feel exactly the same, but I tell myself -- I'm not really going out, I'm staying in-house. And hanging out with interesting people (one runs a construction firm, one does consulting, one used to be a Lutheran minister -- yes, I am bold enough to ask these things) is never a bad thing, right?

 

*     *     * 

Late evening. Did you know there is a bird migration alert? The Midwest is experiencing the highest levels of bird movement this week. 842 million birds were in flight last night over this part of the country. They say to turn out lights at night, as our night luminescence confuses them and kills not a small number. Today through Sunday, turn off those lights!

with lots of love... 

 

back at the farmette

Morning walk...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garden assessment...

Oatmeal breakfast, after a coffee pick up at Tati's...

(photo bomb by Dance!)

 

 

I know what you're thinking: she's back there? Is she nuts? Was it a dream? A sleight of hand? A mirage?

No no, I still live at the Edge. But Ed and I had a date this morning, to eat breakfast together, and to go over some of the remaining dust collectors at the farmhouse, and finally to talk. The first took fifteen minutes, the second -- 45 (but we're not fully done yet), the third -- two hours (and here, too, we are not fully done).

Perhaps normal people would have discussions first and move-outs later, when an agreeable resolution could not be reached, but we are not normal people. He and I do things differently. And we're not yet on the same page, but nearing some possibilities. In any case, we both want to get to a good outcome and since the discussion was hard (why else would we have avoided it for all these years!), at the end of it (which by now was early afternoon), he proposed that we walk our favorite trail at our favorite local park.

 

And that felt really, really good.

It seems that many aspects of this abrupt change of direction require a settling period. Eventually I'll be able to write about other things, to think about other things, not just The Move. For now, we are all in the adjustment phase. Ed said today that it will take him a year to recharge after this entire period of complete togetherness. 

 

 

 

I think that at this point, we both feel that trying something different is good for us. Both of us are trying very hard to be very level headed and caring. And that feels great.

with so much love... 

climbing

It's a good analogy I think: I have the image of me digging out of a mess I found myself in and climbing to some higher space. And I make improvements as I go along. First and foremost -- to my sleep. This night, I added another hour to what I've had going the past week. That I'm not yet at my destination goal of seven hours tells you how low I sank to in the days of the move.

I promised my friend that I'd spend at least 45 minutes doing nothing and I did that this morning. In bed, just looking out at the sky. And I thought to myself: I can actually spend the whole morning doing... nothing!

That felt weird. I got up and fixed breakfast instead. 

I decided I liked, for now, eating at the kitchen island. This time with flowers.

And speaking of flowers or more generally nature, I am hearing through the open balcony door the sound of birdsong. Not clear and crisp, but there nonetheless. American Robin, Cardinal -- the usual suspects. I look out and I do see so many trees! I realize how spoiled I am. But they dont feel right, here in the land of parking lots and corporate headquarters and hotels of the kind you find at the edge of every American city. I remember feeling this way when I lived in New York. I'd want to go out to the country for the day on, say, a Sunday. But what is the country exactly? Is it when you cross the river and you see more trees? Even though tall apartment buildings pop out around you? Is it Bear Mountain State Park -- just a half an hour upstate from the city, after crossing the George Washington Bridge? The park where half the city seems to empty out, to make use of the large public pool there in the summer? None of this felt natural to me. In New York, there was no escape. Trapped in an urban sprawl that continued forever. Here, it's different of course. I could walk my way to any number of nature preserves. And, I remind myself, out my windows are all those trees...

 *     *     *

Ed calls. He picked a bucketful of tomatoes and is continuing with the freezing operation. This is funny of course. I used about a gallon bag of tomatoes a week when I cooked for us. The freezer now has upwards of 40 gallon bags. Will he make chili out of all those tomatoes? We shall see.

I pay bills, set up online accounts, take care of paperwork. And then I think about what Ed told me: gorgeous, write your novel. The world needs your novel.  He uses the funniest words to support my writing projects, but they do make me smile, because sense I his sincerity. And I tell myself -- maybe tomorrow I'll reopen my writing files.

But today I take a walk. Just to explore nature that comes close to where I now live. I choose Pheasant Branch Conservancy. The closest trail in that wooded park is an 8 minute drive from the Edge. (I could have gone to Owen Woods which has more of an up and down, and is also 8 minutes, though in the other direction, but I know Owen like the back of my hand and Pheasant Branch is fairly new to me -- Ed and I have walked there maybe twice. Since my life has just taken a sharp turn into the unknown, it seems appropriate to go with the new.)

(the creek)

 *     *     *

Tuesday is Snowdrop day and she always finds this to be a special time. 

 

 

 

We read, she reads, she eats. 

 

 

 

We dont quite have the lengthy car ride to review life's pressing issues, but still, I get a sense of where the girl's head is at.

*     *     * 

Evening: I defrosted some shrimp -- to cook up with broccoli and farmette garlic. It's my first use of the stove -- electric. Possibly my least favorite for controlling cooking temperatures, but still, it's a fine transition to whatever comes next. 

 I do a lot of solo restaurant dining. When I travel, it's just me, alone, in that eatery packed with jovial pairs and groups of friends. I dont mind it. But preparing food for myself? That's a different story. I dont much care then if the flavors are right, if the presentation is good, if there are ingredients missing. Dinner is not special. It's just a meal that fills you up because you're a bit low on fuel and your limbs are dragging. Maybe I should change that? Try harder? I order the book "Cooking for One," though I doubt that it will transform me. In eating, older people have very fixed habits.

Tomorrow, kids are being picked up by parents. Me? Now when do I ever announce what happens next! (As if I knew...) Ask me then. And sleep well tonight!

with so much love... 

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 chain 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 there? 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...