I opened blogger for the first time in several weeks to find an announcement regarding changes being made by Google+. The unfortunate (or possibly fortunate} thing is it could have been written in Latin and it would have made just as much sense to me. I guess I will have to see if my blog is still available and continue as if things are normal until it goes away entirely. In other words, I'll just ignore it, same as ignoring the "check engine light" in my truck.
Does this mean I am becoming my parents?
Probably.
Neither of them knew how to turn on a computer, although Dad took a programming course through adult education when I was still in high school. I recall he came home with a bunch of punch cards that to most people today would mean very little. They were pretty impressive to us at the time. That was 1973 or 1974. Dad was eons ahead of me and I would have to give him an A for effort.
Then the technology that Dad spent six weeks learning in adult education became obsolete. New technology took over, changed and got "better" almost overnight. Dad was left in the dust. I never took a computer class but was able to keep up for a while by punching buttons and figuring out how to undo what I had done, but slowly I am losing the "keeping up with technology" battle.
Today our children transfer money using Venmo, Zelle, Square Cash and a host of others. I can manage the granddaddy of money transfer things (PayPal) but nothing else seems to work. Not that I haven't tried. Then again, this year the tried and true "send money to the grandchild in a birthday card" failed as well." We suspect a mailbox thief.
My older sister Donna was determined not to let technology pass her by and worked to keep up with every new thing that came along. I don't know if she were still alive if she would be willing to trust all the money transfers, etc. available today as she was pretty careful with her money and electronics, but I'm sure she would know exactly what the flux capacitor did on her computer and be able to sync it to her television.
When we were first married King could hook up cable for the TV and stereo, creating surround sound in our tiny apartment -- not that surround sound was needed in a 500 square foot apartment -- but we had it. In fact, we were the first couple in our complex to have a television with a built-in cable receptor. I remember because when we moved out, the apartment supervisor who checked us out made us unload the U Haul trailer as he was convinced we still had the university's adapter attached to our TV. He had never seen a built-in adapter. He also did not offer to help re-load the trailer.
I find I can take some small measure of comfort that my placement in the battle with technology is eons ahead of King's. Or maybe that comfort is misguided. Sometimes being blissfully ignorant has its benefits.
King and I fight over the remote and which button to push to switch from regular TV to Netflix (on those rare occasions when I am able to get the WiFi to work in the trailer). I find myself becoming exasperated, "Stop just pushing buttons for the hell of it and slow down." And after passing me the remote (chucking it at me actually), if I don't instantly find the right button I hear, "Well, genius, you are no better than me." (And in reality I'm not).
One thing I really especially enjoy (sarcasm) is the fact that he does not know how to use GoogleMaps. We bickered from St. Joseph, Michigan all the way to Vandalia, Illinois over changing routes and following maps. I kept telling him I really enjoyed driving the backroads of Illinois and I didn't know what his problem was. Stopping at the "Chat and Chew Cafe" beats McDonald's any day. He insisted I got us lost on purpose (I did). I suggested he either learn how to use the GPS on the truck or upgrade from a flip-phone to something that supported GoogleMaps.
The other day I was on my way to the grocery store when one of our sons called me. I pulled into a parking lot to talk since I really don't care to pay a $90 fine for talking on a phone while driving in California. He and I chatted for a while and before saying goodbye he said, "You know Mom, you should really get a bluetooth device for the truck." I paused for a moment and then admitted there was one built-in to the truck and I had even paired it to my phone, but kept forgetting to turn it on.
Technology does no good if you don't use it. And it won't be long before what I do have becomes obsolete. I guess I'd better use it before I lose it.
Friday, March 1, 2019
Monday, January 28, 2019
Our last hurrah??
It’s a quiet Monday morning. We are at our daughter’s house
where King is building a “Little Free Library” for our daughter’s mother-in-law. The next project will be a closet organizer. He has already built a storage unit for all of our daughter's outdoor Christmas decorations. I christened it the "Sears Tower," because it is rather tall. (As in it almost reaches their second-story window).
We will be heading back to Michigan this spring so King can play golf with our sons. I wonder what he is going to do to keep himself busy. When we worked on the farm there was always a project – 20 acres of lawn to mow, wood to cut, chickens and rabbits to feed, etc. etc. – so the concern of boredom does loom now. My suggestion that he take up whittling was met with laughter.
This has been a learning curve for both of us and this type of living arrangement is not for the faint of heart. I would say it takes a giant leap of faith, but in reality it is more than that. It takes a willingness to be able to take things as they come and also takes the realization that, yes, we know this cannot last forever. After watching my parents struggle with their aging bodies and then standing by helpless as my mother's mind disappeared, we know this is basically our last hurrah. Someday we may have to find a permanent place to live (one that cannot be moved), or move into an assisted living center. But until then it's our turn to have some fun.
Last week found us camping in the Anza Borrego Desert State
Park. We stayed at the Blair Valley campground which is a primitive campground
– meaning no electricity and no water. It was free, which is always a good price. The only amenity is a vault toilet near the entrance to the campground. Campers bring their own water and carry out their trash. There are no designated campsites, the "rules" say to park no more than one car-length from the "road." I think the entire time we were there about seven cars drove past our campsite. The isolation is awesome and the solitude is beyond explanation. The park itself
encompasses about 600,000 acres with many different campgrounds within the
park, so for those not into "roughing it," there are alternatives.
It was a good week for exploring. King and I were generally
up early and did our wandering in the morning. We were back home (and by “home”
I mean our trailer) by noon and would spend our afternoons napping or listening
to satellite radio. It was a relaxing week. We visited small towns nestled in
the mountains or sprawled out in desert valleys. We saw the remains of Native
American seasonal camps, experienced warm days and cold nights, and watched the solar eclipse under crystal clear skies. The only noise
was the occasional radio music from our nearest neighbor about a mile away as it drifted across the ancient dry lake bed.
This week we are settled back into the noisy campground at
Sweetwater Summit County Park. It’s a different kind of relaxing. We have
electricity and although we never hook the trailer directly to running water,
we can fill the tank whenever we need to. As an aside, King and I don’t trust
the plumbing in our trailer enough to hook it up directly to city water. She is 40-years-old and our fear is if we directly
hooked up the pressure would blow our plumbing apart.
At this campground we are surrounded by campers. We wave at our
“neighbors” while we drive to our campsite, but King and I are not the mingling
types, so we don’t share campfires, we don’t really talk to them – just basic pleasantries and
assurances Cindy doesn’t bite.
And there are showers here. Oh, blessed showers.
Two years ago King removed the shower from our bathroom in the trailer to give us more storage space. It was an all-in-one unit, meaning you could sit on the toilet and take a shower. I used it one time to wash my hair. We needed the space more than we needed to shower. So, now that we we have the availability of a campground bath house at this particular campground, we take advantage of the facilities. The showers here, by the way, are coin operated – four quarters for eight minutes. I am determined to use my full dollars’ worth (must be the Dutch in me) and I’ve found eight-minute showers are longer than the ones I used to take when home was a regular house with a regular bathroom and regular shower.
And there are showers here. Oh, blessed showers.
Two years ago King removed the shower from our bathroom in the trailer to give us more storage space. It was an all-in-one unit, meaning you could sit on the toilet and take a shower. I used it one time to wash my hair. We needed the space more than we needed to shower. So, now that we we have the availability of a campground bath house at this particular campground, we take advantage of the facilities. The showers here, by the way, are coin operated – four quarters for eight minutes. I am determined to use my full dollars’ worth (must be the Dutch in me) and I’ve found eight-minute showers are longer than the ones I used to take when home was a regular house with a regular bathroom and regular shower.
Our children bought King a small TV for Father’s Day last June and our oldest
son helped us set it up internet TV with all of King’s favorite TV westerns and old
sitcoms. I bought King a wall mount for Christmas and now it hangs over the bed
in the back of the trailer. Here in the greater San Diego area we can pick up
at least 50 stations with an antenna. A few weeks ago King watched a few of the
college bowl games in Spanish. For someone like me who only listens to the
games halfheartedly it was interesting to hear the same game voice droning on
and on – except in Spanish.
And speaking of King watching TV in the back of the trailer…
that “back” spot (or family room) is about seven feet from where I sit, in what normally would
be the dinette area, but I’ve converted into a sofa (formal living room). This is our home. Small and compact with all we need a few feet from wherever we are. People
may ask, “How was camping?” and we will tell them it’s “fine,” or “fun” but the
reality is, this is our lifestyle now. This is what we do. This is our home.
Permanently. Our “home” is truly where we park it. The realization that this is
not a “vacation,” but our new lifestyle, is going to take some getting used to.
It can be a little daunting at times.
We will be heading back to Michigan this spring so King can play golf with our sons. I wonder what he is going to do to keep himself busy. When we worked on the farm there was always a project – 20 acres of lawn to mow, wood to cut, chickens and rabbits to feed, etc. etc. – so the concern of boredom does loom now. My suggestion that he take up whittling was met with laughter.
This has been a learning curve for both of us and this type of living arrangement is not for the faint of heart. I would say it takes a giant leap of faith, but in reality it is more than that. It takes a willingness to be able to take things as they come and also takes the realization that, yes, we know this cannot last forever. After watching my parents struggle with their aging bodies and then standing by helpless as my mother's mind disappeared, we know this is basically our last hurrah. Someday we may have to find a permanent place to live (one that cannot be moved), or move into an assisted living center. But until then it's our turn to have some fun.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Happy New Year
It’s the last day of 2018. I’m not one to wax poetic about
the end of the year and new beginnings. I’ve never kept a New Year’s resolution
and I don’t think I will be starting now. Not that I don’t believe in them, I
just know myself and my limitations. So other than to say I’m going to try to stay out of political debates on
Facebook, I don’t have any resolutions.
I’m pretty sure the biggest change for me for 2019 is the
same change I’ve made every New Year – remembering to change the date on
checks. And since I don’t even own a check book any longer, it’s not much of a
concern.
My older sister Donna would have turned 70 on January 1. I
miss her. But her absence is one I’ve adjusted to. That may seem harsh, but it’s
my reality. When I think of Donna I think of the good times we had. I remember
the trips she and I took together. I remember her temper. I remember her
generosity. I think of the things that made Donna the person she was. But my
first thought when I realized she would have been 70 in 2019 was, “Wow, I have
(or would have had) two sisters in their 70s.” That’s a sobering thought.
Wasn’t it just yesterday my younger sister and I were anticipating their return
home from college? And wasn’t it the day
before yesterday we were celebrating her birthday with friends from Chicago and
sledding down Veldhoff’s hill?
Today King and I are spending the last day of 2018 in our
“new” home. He is watching football and I am writing, messaging our daughter,
knitting and just generally chilling. It’s rather relaxing.
Santa gave King a wall mount bracket for our TV for
Christmas. We were going to install it last night, but King left the charger
for the drill at our daughter’s house. So we drove to her house today to get
the charger and returned to the campground to get the wall bracket installed.
The most I can say about the installation is we are still married. Projects,
King and I are not a good combination.
I may have mentioned before that our travel trailer is tiny.
I don’t think that fully expresses how small it truly is. Before we got the TV
mounted on the wall we had it set up on a small rolling cart between the
refrigerator and the bathroom door. It had to be moved any time we wanted to
open either door. Now it is hanging above
the bed and I am sitting at the table – about eight feet away. It really has
not taken much to become accustomed to living in a small space. We have a place
for everything and when it is not in the proper place it is VERY apparent.
I have had people tell me they would love to live in a small
space, but can’t imagine parting with their possessions. The reality is, once
you start looking at possessions/treasures as simply “things” it becomes easier to do. I will
admit, there are nine boxes stored at our son’s home. But in those boxes are
things that I might need should there ever come a time when King and I can no
longer live in a 16-foot travel trailer – a crock pot, food dehydrator, a
juicer and a few other items of that nature. Sentimental items are either gone or have been
given away.
So King and I are content. It’s not a matter of learning to
go without. It’s a matter of enjoying what we have.
Later today we will be heading back to our daughter and
son-in-law’s home to babysit while they go out to ring in the new year with friends.
It’s been a long time since King has made it to midnight and I doubt he will
tonight. Whether or not I make it is questionable as well.
I wish everyone a happy and peaceful New Year.
Friday, December 14, 2018
Coddiwomple
Coddiwomple is British slang meaning to travel purposefully toward an as-yet-unknown destination.
That's King and I. We don't know where we are going, but we are heading there in a determined fashion.
Right now there is really no destination or set goal in our meandering. I know we will be back in Michigan for the summer. The plan is for King to continue playing in his Tuesday golf league as well as participate in weekend golf scrambles with our sons.
For our daughters-in-law, golf scrambles are not top on the list of fun things husbands do. I must admit I was right there with them in my intense hatred of golf when our children were young. Now that the children are grown and I find my unencumbered time a joy...King can participate in as many scrambles as he likes. Sorry ladies. I feel your pain, but I don't participate in it. I just need to find King a summer man-cave so I don't have to join him in his post-golf celebratory late-night music-fests. (I despise those more than I ever did the golf).
In the meantime we will relish our purposeful travel to parts unknown.
One thing has changed.
When we first started out on this adventure I had this secret image of meeting people and writing feature articles about them. There are a lot of interesting people out there with stories to tell.
Case in point -- the gentleman who serves as the campground host at the remote national forest campground where King and I escape to quite regularly. He truly is a fascinating character, and in the four minutes I spoke with him, I learned he used to work for the city of Lemon Grove, Calif., and when the opportunity to take over as campground host was presented to him, he jumped at the offer. A part of me would like to know more. What it is like to live alone during the week only to have the solitude invaded on the weekends by people who are either seeking escape themselves or who are out to have a good time partying? What does he do all day long? Does he get lonely? What are some of the strangest things he has seen? But my reality is, after years (and years and years) of talking to strangers and writing stories about their lives...I just don't have it in me any longer. I'm tired. So I settle for snippets of information.
My imagination serves me better than reality most times anyway.
In the meantime between campground visits, we are having a good time spending time with our daughter and her family.
This past week she has been attending a real estate seminar in La Jolla, which means King and I have been taking the boys to school for her. They attend school in a different school district so every morning we have a commute to school. And this is California. Land of the multiple highways and never-ending traffic. Although the school is just seven miles from their home, it takes 20 minutes or more to get there. (By the way, school districts in California do not provide free busing for students. Students either walk, pay to ride the school bus, or their parents take them to school).
And I am back in elementary school again. It's a little different from the school of my youth, or even that of our children's youth. Each morning after the 7:25 a.m. bell, a mini-assembly is held in the courtyard outside the classrooms. Parents and children alike attend. Mom's in sweatpants, pushing strollers, Moms in business clothes, Dads in suits and Dads in jeans -- they all participate. The assembly starts with reciting the Pledge, (yes, even in "liberal" California, they still recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And just because my political views lean to the left, does not mean I don't approve of reciting the pledge -- don't get me going), announcements are made, and they sing a song, or hand out awards, etc.
Mornings are on the cooler side -- high 50s to low 60s -- I arrive in a t-shirt and jeans because "back home" this would be flip-flop weather. Other parents are wearing down-filled vests and scarves. I have to remember to dress the boys in their hoodies or I get the "what is wrong with their grandmother" look from other parents.
And speaking of weather...It's been different not having to dress in winter coats, boots, hats, mittens and scarves. I can (and do) run out to the mailbox barefoot. Although I will miss Christmas shopping with snow softly falling, I could easily get used to this.
 |
| Taken from the Mindful Travel Facebook page |
Right now there is really no destination or set goal in our meandering. I know we will be back in Michigan for the summer. The plan is for King to continue playing in his Tuesday golf league as well as participate in weekend golf scrambles with our sons.
For our daughters-in-law, golf scrambles are not top on the list of fun things husbands do. I must admit I was right there with them in my intense hatred of golf when our children were young. Now that the children are grown and I find my unencumbered time a joy...King can participate in as many scrambles as he likes. Sorry ladies. I feel your pain, but I don't participate in it. I just need to find King a summer man-cave so I don't have to join him in his post-golf celebratory late-night music-fests. (I despise those more than I ever did the golf).
In the meantime we will relish our purposeful travel to parts unknown.
One thing has changed.
When we first started out on this adventure I had this secret image of meeting people and writing feature articles about them. There are a lot of interesting people out there with stories to tell.
Case in point -- the gentleman who serves as the campground host at the remote national forest campground where King and I escape to quite regularly. He truly is a fascinating character, and in the four minutes I spoke with him, I learned he used to work for the city of Lemon Grove, Calif., and when the opportunity to take over as campground host was presented to him, he jumped at the offer. A part of me would like to know more. What it is like to live alone during the week only to have the solitude invaded on the weekends by people who are either seeking escape themselves or who are out to have a good time partying? What does he do all day long? Does he get lonely? What are some of the strangest things he has seen? But my reality is, after years (and years and years) of talking to strangers and writing stories about their lives...I just don't have it in me any longer. I'm tired. So I settle for snippets of information.
My imagination serves me better than reality most times anyway.
In the meantime between campground visits, we are having a good time spending time with our daughter and her family.
This past week she has been attending a real estate seminar in La Jolla, which means King and I have been taking the boys to school for her. They attend school in a different school district so every morning we have a commute to school. And this is California. Land of the multiple highways and never-ending traffic. Although the school is just seven miles from their home, it takes 20 minutes or more to get there. (By the way, school districts in California do not provide free busing for students. Students either walk, pay to ride the school bus, or their parents take them to school).
And I am back in elementary school again. It's a little different from the school of my youth, or even that of our children's youth. Each morning after the 7:25 a.m. bell, a mini-assembly is held in the courtyard outside the classrooms. Parents and children alike attend. Mom's in sweatpants, pushing strollers, Moms in business clothes, Dads in suits and Dads in jeans -- they all participate. The assembly starts with reciting the Pledge, (yes, even in "liberal" California, they still recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And just because my political views lean to the left, does not mean I don't approve of reciting the pledge -- don't get me going), announcements are made, and they sing a song, or hand out awards, etc.
Mornings are on the cooler side -- high 50s to low 60s -- I arrive in a t-shirt and jeans because "back home" this would be flip-flop weather. Other parents are wearing down-filled vests and scarves. I have to remember to dress the boys in their hoodies or I get the "what is wrong with their grandmother" look from other parents.
And speaking of weather...It's been different not having to dress in winter coats, boots, hats, mittens and scarves. I can (and do) run out to the mailbox barefoot. Although I will miss Christmas shopping with snow softly falling, I could easily get used to this.
Monday, December 10, 2018
Our new life
We have officially been "on the road" for about a month.
Technically that is a misnomer. We left Michigan on November 8, and drove like crazy people to arrive at our daughter's home five days later in order to babysit while they took a mini-vacation. We almost made it in four days, but strong winds in Arizona forced us to hunker-down early to wait out the wind. There is little worse than pulling a swaying trailer through mountain passes.
We have been staying at our daughter's home off and on since arriving and will continue to do so until shortly after the holidays or until our son-in-law runs screaming from the house, whichever comes first. The two of them have a lot of holiday parties, farewell parties for co-workers, and work conferences between now and the new year. We are needed and it has been enjoyable to do "grandparent duty" for them. But it is a fine line between helping out and "over-staying your welcome," as my mother used to say.
Flexibility is one of the joys of having no hard and fast plans, but it is also something we have to get used to. Or at least I have to get used to it. King keeps himself busy by working on all kinds of projects at our daughter's house. Some of them she asked him to do, others he found on his own. I'm not certain if she really wanted them done or is just too polite to ask him: "What the heck did you do now?" I know that is the way I was with my father. So many times I wanted to say, "Thanks Dad but I really had different plans for the breezeway (or whatever)." My father had a difficult time with our project timetables, which generally were based on bills, golf outings and paychecks -- meaning projects would be started, bills would come up or an all-important golf scramble was scheduled and project completion would be pushed back months.
As I write this I am watching our daughter and King put together a lighted "Happy Holidays" sign to place on her garage roof. I THINK it is the last of the outdoor Christmas decorations.
I enjoy watching the two of them work together. Our daughter has grandiose ideas which she patiently explains to her father over and over again until that one "ah ha" moment when he finally "gets it." He really is not that obtuse, he just has problems conceptualizing abstract ideas. Where I will throw up my hands in absolute frustration while trying to explain something to him, our daughter will keep trying until her ideas come across. Of course it helps that they have not been married 42 years and that daughters and daddies tend to have more patience with one another than husbands and wives.
I have enjoyed being a part of holiday traditions in a new home. Our daughter has taken a mix of the traditions she grew up with and blended them with the traditions of her husband. We spent two weekends ago shopping for a Christmas tree and decorating the outside of the house with lights that would rival the Griswolds from the movie "Christmas Vacation." This past weekend the tree has finally been decorated and Sunday night was the last night for lighting candles on the Menorah. They have been teaching the boys about reason, self-esteem, courage, freedom, love, loyalty, generosity and hope. I hope the traditions they are starting now are something their boys will continue when they are grown.
Back "home" in Michigan our sons have blended our family traditions with those of their wives. It has been enjoyable to watch this -- the give and take and working to make things work to create new family traditions -- traditions that I hope will become ingrained only to change again when the grandchildren become adults. My daughter and I were discussing this the other day. She was surprised to learn that some of the Christmas traditions we followed as she was growing up were a combination of Stehower and McCrossin traditions. Some were our own invention.
Wishing everyone a blessed holiday season and may your traditions bring you comfort and joy. Best wishes for a great New Year.
Technically that is a misnomer. We left Michigan on November 8, and drove like crazy people to arrive at our daughter's home five days later in order to babysit while they took a mini-vacation. We almost made it in four days, but strong winds in Arizona forced us to hunker-down early to wait out the wind. There is little worse than pulling a swaying trailer through mountain passes.
We have been staying at our daughter's home off and on since arriving and will continue to do so until shortly after the holidays or until our son-in-law runs screaming from the house, whichever comes first. The two of them have a lot of holiday parties, farewell parties for co-workers, and work conferences between now and the new year. We are needed and it has been enjoyable to do "grandparent duty" for them. But it is a fine line between helping out and "over-staying your welcome," as my mother used to say.
Flexibility is one of the joys of having no hard and fast plans, but it is also something we have to get used to. Or at least I have to get used to it. King keeps himself busy by working on all kinds of projects at our daughter's house. Some of them she asked him to do, others he found on his own. I'm not certain if she really wanted them done or is just too polite to ask him: "What the heck did you do now?" I know that is the way I was with my father. So many times I wanted to say, "Thanks Dad but I really had different plans for the breezeway (or whatever)." My father had a difficult time with our project timetables, which generally were based on bills, golf outings and paychecks -- meaning projects would be started, bills would come up or an all-important golf scramble was scheduled and project completion would be pushed back months.
As I write this I am watching our daughter and King put together a lighted "Happy Holidays" sign to place on her garage roof. I THINK it is the last of the outdoor Christmas decorations.
I enjoy watching the two of them work together. Our daughter has grandiose ideas which she patiently explains to her father over and over again until that one "ah ha" moment when he finally "gets it." He really is not that obtuse, he just has problems conceptualizing abstract ideas. Where I will throw up my hands in absolute frustration while trying to explain something to him, our daughter will keep trying until her ideas come across. Of course it helps that they have not been married 42 years and that daughters and daddies tend to have more patience with one another than husbands and wives.
I have enjoyed being a part of holiday traditions in a new home. Our daughter has taken a mix of the traditions she grew up with and blended them with the traditions of her husband. We spent two weekends ago shopping for a Christmas tree and decorating the outside of the house with lights that would rival the Griswolds from the movie "Christmas Vacation." This past weekend the tree has finally been decorated and Sunday night was the last night for lighting candles on the Menorah. They have been teaching the boys about reason, self-esteem, courage, freedom, love, loyalty, generosity and hope. I hope the traditions they are starting now are something their boys will continue when they are grown.
Back "home" in Michigan our sons have blended our family traditions with those of their wives. It has been enjoyable to watch this -- the give and take and working to make things work to create new family traditions -- traditions that I hope will become ingrained only to change again when the grandchildren become adults. My daughter and I were discussing this the other day. She was surprised to learn that some of the Christmas traditions we followed as she was growing up were a combination of Stehower and McCrossin traditions. Some were our own invention.
Wishing everyone a blessed holiday season and may your traditions bring you comfort and joy. Best wishes for a great New Year.
Thursday, November 1, 2018
Ready or not, the time has come
Today is Friday. Provided our direct deposit ever gets here we will be leaving Monday. Or Tuesday. Hopefully before Thursday.
It's been one of those unseen bumps in the road. For eight years we had banked with a pre-paid debit card. And it worked great. Until it didn't. Now we are waiting for the State of Michigan to get King's pension check into our new (local) bank so we can hit the road.
Sigh. Small hiccups.
Despite our financial disaster we are slowing emptying the house. I am sewing like crazy...trying to use up my leftover fabric. When I decide I've sewn enough the rest of the materials and sewing supplies will be donated to the re-sale shop at the Al-Van Humane Society. I've already made several trips to the shop to donate other items.
We brought nine boxes of "treasures" to our son's house to keep in his storage shed. Forty-two years of collecting pared down to nine boxes. King went through all our photo albums and divided photos for each of our four children. I think it was easier for him to pass the photos off than to actually get rid of them.
In the meantime we have been avoiding buying groceries by eating food from the freezer. When you get down to the bottom of the freezer you realize why the food at the bottom is there. I look at some of the things in there and say to myself, "What was I thinking when I bought that?" They are not exactly yummy items. King is not impressed with my creative endeavors. He bravely eats whatever I fix (I suspect because he can't cook). But I have to admit, I'm not impressed either. Last night's invention was eggs, cheese, rice and pumpkin, seasoned, mixed and baked. Don't try it.
So while we are getting ready for change, we are also trying to come to grips with the reality of what we are about to do. The realization that there is going to be a lot of "togetherness" for quite some time is quite sobering. In the past, during those instances when the "bliss" seemed to be missing from "marital bliss," King would disappear to the workshop next door or I would take the dog for a long walk. Now I guess my alternative will be to hang my head out the truck window, or squeeze out the back window and ride in the truck bed. King, who never relinquishes the driving duties to me, will have to settle for giving me the silent treatment. He's pretty good at it.
We are also saying our goodbyes to as many friends and family members as possible.
King is getting in as much golf as he can with our sons (much to the annoyance of our daughters-in-law) and I have had farewell lunches with friends, cousins and my sister. I must confess, my sister and I are having a difficult time saying goodbye. We had a farewell dinner this week and decided to do "one more breakfast" on Saturday.
She and I know we will be back next summer. Just not to the place King and I have called home for the past eight years. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Just a change.
And things truly do change.
The new owners of the farm are settling into the routine of the place. Or creating their own. King is still stoking the fire and feeding the chickens and rabbits. He still gets out the leaf blower and keeps the yard leaf-free. The main tree in the front is an oak, so we will be long gone when it finally sheds its last leaf.
Long gone. Wow. That thought is rather exhilarating and sobering at the same time.
People ask if we are prepared for this. Well, yes. As much as anyone can prepare for the unknown.
I have been mapping our route for several weeks. Since our exact departure date is now up in the air, the route may change somewhat. Then again, if this trip is the same as the last trip, our route will change daily. Most time the changes are made on the fly while we are debating the merits of whatever talk show host is spewing left-or-right-winged politics. It seems the needed exit looms on the right lane and we are in the far left lane (no political analogy intended), and the debate changes to who was not paying attention. Maps, GPS and campground books are pulled out and spread out across the cab of the truck. Generally 40 miles later we decide this new route is probably the better one anyway.
So ready or not we will soon be off on our adventure.
It's been one of those unseen bumps in the road. For eight years we had banked with a pre-paid debit card. And it worked great. Until it didn't. Now we are waiting for the State of Michigan to get King's pension check into our new (local) bank so we can hit the road.
Sigh. Small hiccups.
Despite our financial disaster we are slowing emptying the house. I am sewing like crazy...trying to use up my leftover fabric. When I decide I've sewn enough the rest of the materials and sewing supplies will be donated to the re-sale shop at the Al-Van Humane Society. I've already made several trips to the shop to donate other items.
We brought nine boxes of "treasures" to our son's house to keep in his storage shed. Forty-two years of collecting pared down to nine boxes. King went through all our photo albums and divided photos for each of our four children. I think it was easier for him to pass the photos off than to actually get rid of them.
In the meantime we have been avoiding buying groceries by eating food from the freezer. When you get down to the bottom of the freezer you realize why the food at the bottom is there. I look at some of the things in there and say to myself, "What was I thinking when I bought that?" They are not exactly yummy items. King is not impressed with my creative endeavors. He bravely eats whatever I fix (I suspect because he can't cook). But I have to admit, I'm not impressed either. Last night's invention was eggs, cheese, rice and pumpkin, seasoned, mixed and baked. Don't try it.
So while we are getting ready for change, we are also trying to come to grips with the reality of what we are about to do. The realization that there is going to be a lot of "togetherness" for quite some time is quite sobering. In the past, during those instances when the "bliss" seemed to be missing from "marital bliss," King would disappear to the workshop next door or I would take the dog for a long walk. Now I guess my alternative will be to hang my head out the truck window, or squeeze out the back window and ride in the truck bed. King, who never relinquishes the driving duties to me, will have to settle for giving me the silent treatment. He's pretty good at it.
We are also saying our goodbyes to as many friends and family members as possible.
King is getting in as much golf as he can with our sons (much to the annoyance of our daughters-in-law) and I have had farewell lunches with friends, cousins and my sister. I must confess, my sister and I are having a difficult time saying goodbye. We had a farewell dinner this week and decided to do "one more breakfast" on Saturday.
She and I know we will be back next summer. Just not to the place King and I have called home for the past eight years. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Just a change.
And things truly do change.
The new owners of the farm are settling into the routine of the place. Or creating their own. King is still stoking the fire and feeding the chickens and rabbits. He still gets out the leaf blower and keeps the yard leaf-free. The main tree in the front is an oak, so we will be long gone when it finally sheds its last leaf.
Long gone. Wow. That thought is rather exhilarating and sobering at the same time.
People ask if we are prepared for this. Well, yes. As much as anyone can prepare for the unknown.
I have been mapping our route for several weeks. Since our exact departure date is now up in the air, the route may change somewhat. Then again, if this trip is the same as the last trip, our route will change daily. Most time the changes are made on the fly while we are debating the merits of whatever talk show host is spewing left-or-right-winged politics. It seems the needed exit looms on the right lane and we are in the far left lane (no political analogy intended), and the debate changes to who was not paying attention. Maps, GPS and campground books are pulled out and spread out across the cab of the truck. Generally 40 miles later we decide this new route is probably the better one anyway.
So ready or not we will soon be off on our adventure.
Friday, October 12, 2018
Purging
In 24 days we will be leaving for parts unknown. Forever.
I am a sentimental person. So getting ready to purge my home of things I can't take with me is difficult.
The trivet hanging on the wall next to the kitchen window was a Christmas gift to my mother in 1965 from Winifred Sal a member of the Women's Guild at Haven Reformed Church in Hamilton. Mrs. Sal was also one of my Catechism teachers. The print hanging on my living room wall above Mom's recliner is one Mom had in her guest room in their last apartment. There are creamers in my creamer collection that were given to me as gifts from special people.... the list goes on.
But there is a limit to my sentimentality and after trying to eliminate some of my "treasurers" I realized my memories are better than my possessions.
I had a set of Mom's china which was given to Mom by my aunt when she and Dad were married. Mom kept the set in the cupboard above the washer and dryer in our kitchen. Every Thanksgiving she would take it out, wash the dust off it and use it for our Thanksgiving meal. I think I used it a total of four times before I gave it to my niece. Mom's silver-plate, (next best silverware) along with my sister Donna's dishes, went to our granddaughter for her first apartment. My sister has the sterling.
In the past seven years my sisters and I have lost our parents and a sister. The three of us have cleaned, purged and set aside many, many mementos. And slowly, slowly we have decided what is important to keep and what we could let go. It wasn't always easy.
My younger sister and I held a garage sale after our older sister passed away. We sold a lot of Donna's things along with some of Mom's possession. There was a red glass oil lamp that Mom would use as a centerpiece on the kitchen table from Thanksgiving through the Christmas holiday. My younger sister and I had purchased it for Mom from the local Variety Store in Hamilton when we were quite young. I think it might have been a birthday present. As we watched the new owner walk down the driveway with Mom's oil lamp, my sister said softly to me, "Goodbye Mom's oil lamp." Neither one of us cried, but I think we both wanted to.
The thing is, no one else can share our memories. That lamp could sit on my kitchen table, or my sisters mantle and we could tell our children, "That was Grandma's lamp. We bought it for her from the Variety Store in Hamilton when we were little." The kids would say, "That's nice Mom." But it would not hold the same memories it held for us. One would have to have been there to hear the screen door at the Variety Store creak open and slam shut. One would have to have been there to hear the floorboards squeak as you walked across the store. One would have to have been there to feel the excitement as the lamp was lifted from the display window and placed in a box to take home. One would have had to seen our kitchen table with the lamp glowing in the darkness after the dishes were done and we had all retired to the living room to watch television. Otherwise it is simply "Grandma's lamp, that Mom and her sister bought for her as a birthday present." It is the memories and not the thing itself that holds sentimentality.
And I am well aware that our memories are not always ours to keep. Our mother's memories faded long before her body gave way to age.
So it has come time to purge our home of "stuff."
King and I are finally taking the plunge and moving into our 19-foot (from hitch to bumper) travel trailer. We will be leaving the beginning of November. Of course we will be back next summer. King is not ready to give up golfing with our sons. But it is looking as if -- at least for the next year or two -- we will be living year-round in our trailer.
One day into my purge and I've already donated a box full of craft supplies, purses, clothes and shoes; I've ruthlessly dumped stuff into the dumpster, and boxed up a few, small treasures. My goal is to pare it all down to be able to fit everything into a closet-sized storage unit. If the kids want any of the furniture, they may have it. I'm pretty sure the rest will be set out by the road for anyone with a pickup truck to take home.
I may sound as though I have this all figured out and am ready to commit, but I must confess, there are days when I wonder if, instead, I should be committed. While I read a lot of blogs about people who travel full-time and live in their $65,000 travel trailers, that isn't exactly what King and I are doing. As usual we are "flying by the seat of our pants," as Mom would have said. (Meaning we have no hard and fast plans at all). But to be honest, King and I have tried doing what is the norm. We have tried to be the normal, all-American, apple-pie, money in the bank, save for retirement family. We were miserable failures.
After 40-some years of semi-normalcy, it is time for a little adventure. Are we ready? There is no such thing as ready. There is only now. And now seems pretty right.
I am a sentimental person. So getting ready to purge my home of things I can't take with me is difficult.
The trivet hanging on the wall next to the kitchen window was a Christmas gift to my mother in 1965 from Winifred Sal a member of the Women's Guild at Haven Reformed Church in Hamilton. Mrs. Sal was also one of my Catechism teachers. The print hanging on my living room wall above Mom's recliner is one Mom had in her guest room in their last apartment. There are creamers in my creamer collection that were given to me as gifts from special people.... the list goes on.
But there is a limit to my sentimentality and after trying to eliminate some of my "treasurers" I realized my memories are better than my possessions.
I had a set of Mom's china which was given to Mom by my aunt when she and Dad were married. Mom kept the set in the cupboard above the washer and dryer in our kitchen. Every Thanksgiving she would take it out, wash the dust off it and use it for our Thanksgiving meal. I think I used it a total of four times before I gave it to my niece. Mom's silver-plate, (next best silverware) along with my sister Donna's dishes, went to our granddaughter for her first apartment. My sister has the sterling.
In the past seven years my sisters and I have lost our parents and a sister. The three of us have cleaned, purged and set aside many, many mementos. And slowly, slowly we have decided what is important to keep and what we could let go. It wasn't always easy.
My younger sister and I held a garage sale after our older sister passed away. We sold a lot of Donna's things along with some of Mom's possession. There was a red glass oil lamp that Mom would use as a centerpiece on the kitchen table from Thanksgiving through the Christmas holiday. My younger sister and I had purchased it for Mom from the local Variety Store in Hamilton when we were quite young. I think it might have been a birthday present. As we watched the new owner walk down the driveway with Mom's oil lamp, my sister said softly to me, "Goodbye Mom's oil lamp." Neither one of us cried, but I think we both wanted to.
The thing is, no one else can share our memories. That lamp could sit on my kitchen table, or my sisters mantle and we could tell our children, "That was Grandma's lamp. We bought it for her from the Variety Store in Hamilton when we were little." The kids would say, "That's nice Mom." But it would not hold the same memories it held for us. One would have to have been there to hear the screen door at the Variety Store creak open and slam shut. One would have to have been there to hear the floorboards squeak as you walked across the store. One would have to have been there to feel the excitement as the lamp was lifted from the display window and placed in a box to take home. One would have had to seen our kitchen table with the lamp glowing in the darkness after the dishes were done and we had all retired to the living room to watch television. Otherwise it is simply "Grandma's lamp, that Mom and her sister bought for her as a birthday present." It is the memories and not the thing itself that holds sentimentality.
And I am well aware that our memories are not always ours to keep. Our mother's memories faded long before her body gave way to age.
So it has come time to purge our home of "stuff."
King and I are finally taking the plunge and moving into our 19-foot (from hitch to bumper) travel trailer. We will be leaving the beginning of November. Of course we will be back next summer. King is not ready to give up golfing with our sons. But it is looking as if -- at least for the next year or two -- we will be living year-round in our trailer.
One day into my purge and I've already donated a box full of craft supplies, purses, clothes and shoes; I've ruthlessly dumped stuff into the dumpster, and boxed up a few, small treasures. My goal is to pare it all down to be able to fit everything into a closet-sized storage unit. If the kids want any of the furniture, they may have it. I'm pretty sure the rest will be set out by the road for anyone with a pickup truck to take home.
I may sound as though I have this all figured out and am ready to commit, but I must confess, there are days when I wonder if, instead, I should be committed. While I read a lot of blogs about people who travel full-time and live in their $65,000 travel trailers, that isn't exactly what King and I are doing. As usual we are "flying by the seat of our pants," as Mom would have said. (Meaning we have no hard and fast plans at all). But to be honest, King and I have tried doing what is the norm. We have tried to be the normal, all-American, apple-pie, money in the bank, save for retirement family. We were miserable failures.
After 40-some years of semi-normalcy, it is time for a little adventure. Are we ready? There is no such thing as ready. There is only now. And now seems pretty right.
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