Choke, choke!

A couple of days ago I was reminded there are approximately eight weeks till (get ready for it) Christmas. Choke, choke, cough, cough, wheeze, wheeze.  Seriously folks how is that possible? Where in the world has the year gone?

Yesterday my granddaughter visited for the day and while we were out for lunch we stopped by a little shop that just a few weeks ago was filled with all sorts of trinkets for Christmas, and the proprietor told me then it was not too early to 'pick up a few things'.  I told him we would be back.

Imagine my surprise when we stopped in yesterday and I found there were very few Christmas trinkets left.  I was very, very disappointed because I thought for sure nobody would be thinking about Christmas shopping this early.  Well, So much for buying 'just because' trinkets for stocking-stuffers.

However, I decorate my tree every year with birds and red roses and I did manage to find two adorable little Wrens wearing winter caps with scarves around their necks and an intricate red Humming Bird covered in 'spark-lies'.   All three are going to make wonderful additions to the tree.  I wish I could have purchased more things, what a bummer I didn't shop the first day we went in there.

Yes, I hear you saying I should have started doing my shopping sooner rather than later and I used to do that. There was a time I would have all my shopping done by the end of August.  Now wondering why I stopped that practice?  It worked so well at the time.  Maybe I stopped when we decided as a family not to buy a present for each person, and went for a round-robin exchange instead with a limit of three gifts (all under a certain price range). That sure took the pressure off the old wallet, plus it meant I didn't HAVE to budget the Christmas expense over such a large area of time.

Finally, the older I got I discovered really don’t like shopping in the Christmas crowds.  Plus, the noise, hustle, bustle and smothering crowds in the stores don’t exactly thrill me anymore.  I'd much rather sit in my toasty warm office perusing the old Internet where with a finger on my mouse and a 'click, click here, a click, click there...POOF....my shopping is done.

Wow, I just re-read this and it kind of makes me sound like a "Baaa Humbug" kind of person.  That's not the case, trust me.  I enjoy the holiday music, the smell of gingerbread cookies baking in the oven, the red, green, yellow, orange and white sparkling strings of lights.  Then there are my favorite Christmas movies like: We're No Angels, Elf, About a Boy, While You Were Sleeping and a dozen or so more. (Sigh, I’ve so little time to watch!) I decorate just about every room in my home with treasures of old as well as new items that become old treasures.  I like unexpected company, and surprise packages in the mail.  I wish and hope every year that come Christmas morning I pull open the drapes and find a blanket of snow covering lawns, trees and shrubs.  No, I’m definitely not a Baaa Humbug person at all.

There you have it, as I mentioned, there are about eight weeks left till Christmas so little time in which to accomplish so much.  Me thinks we should probably all get busy shopping or else those trinkets we see in the shops today just might be gone tomorrow.

Oh, and should I mention, there are only nine weeks left till the year is over.
Gulp!

Now....

...there's no guarantee I will write every day, but at least my muse has returned which makes me a very happy person.

I don't know where she went for so many months and I suppose I should be angry with her.  I suspect though she should have been angry with me, after all it was I that had abandoned her.  Yep, I kicked her out like yesterday's sludge.  Thank goodness she returned without holding a grudge.

Writing is a crazy kind of thing.  It can come so easily but can go just as easily.  I got to reading some of my old writings while I was settling to my new office and could see how over the years my writing style changed.  I noticed it particularly when I went through my Nature Journals that I kept for about three years.  At first the entries were choppy...short...to the point...what's the number one rule of writing? "Show, don't tell", sadly that is what I was doing the first several months of writing the journals I told I saw a lizard but didn't show his color, how it felt, what it did.  Phooey!  

Fortunately, once I got into it everything I saw had a story to tell and my journals came alive.  I began collection specimen, I began drawing pictures, and I included things that were under my nose for years but never noticed.  I drug my dogs hither and yon searching out leaves, rocks, mosses, insects, tree barks till I had binders chucked full of wonderful 'stuff'.

Then came the years with a word processor (remember those) and writing became much more easy. Finally came the computer and (for me) a whole new world emerged.  Boy, did I write!!!!! Poems? Yep.  Essays? Yep.  Plays? Yep (at least one).  Mostly though I was good at ponders, I pondered A LOT.  Finally my daughter said I should try a blog...I had no idea what a blog was but was willing to give it a go. And I did.

Of course I had a lot of help with my blog there was my Muse, Zorro, CC, the Devil and Angel who sat on my shoulders and finally my wonderful invisible friend Frankie.  True I abandoned them for a while this year but I'm back baby....I'm back.  I'm even considering taking an on-line class in writing, perhaps poetry.

So, all I want to say is check in on this Rambling Old Woman from time to time you might find a poem, an essay, a play and for sure ponders...lots and lots of ponders.

It has been a while. What a ride.

After a long agony, I decided it was time for me to give up my blog.  I admit, was in a 'state'.  I hate when that happens.  Frankie in not so loving a way informed me I was not being nice to my readers and suggested I stop writing.  She was right, so I did.

And, so began probably the worst summer of my life.  It had been three years since I put my home of 40 years on the market, but I decided this time IT WAS THE TIME to try to sell my home once more.

Talk about a nightmare.  My first realtor fired me.  I was devastated.  I was angry.  I was not a nice person to be around.  I went into depression for the first time in my life.  I wallowed for a couple of weeks pondering my future.

I was rapidly running out of funds to continue living in and trying to maintain my home, and contemplated (if I could sell) moving into one of those retirement communities where you begin with independent living, and end up with respite care.  That would sure make it easy on my family.  I researched local communities for months only to find they would be way beyond my means even if I sold my place for half a million dollars....whew....they really are for the rich!!!

After wallowing, Frankie in her usual, FRANK demeanor whopped me upside the head and demanded I take charge and 'put the damn house on the market'.  During the time I wallowed, a Realtor had phoned twice offering to help me sell, but I ignored both calls.  However, one morning I got up the courage and called her.

I told her my tale of woe with other Realtors and she said she could stop by, but if I told her if she didn't feel like she could sell the house the way I wanted, I would simply not waste her or my time.

She stopped by and we had a lovely chat.  She told me "Honey, I'll sell your home anyway you want."

Finally, I had buyers, a young couple.  They were willing to buy the place 'as is'.  Now, please understand, the way was not paved in gold, it was full of potholes that held water, mud and lots of muck. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork.  Changes in lenders, changes in the closing date, amendments for the very tiniest thing each requiring my signature.  My wonderful Realtor (bless her) stood by me even during one particular phone call where I had a very ugly meltdown. She was a saint!

Then, on August 31st, the movers arrived.  My sister (who came to help me keep my sanity) and I followed the movers through the house vacuuming and dusting until I was told I needed to go to the storage facility so I could be there in advance to direct them to my unit.

Even moving day did not go well.  My sister's car wouldn't start.  I temporarily lost my credit card.  I had Frankie, my cat, dog, sister, her daughter and I to move into a residence motel for nine days until my apartment was ready.  I was exhausted.

Okay...I'm starting to giggle. I guess in retrospect it was not all that bad.  Well, yes it was...it was horrible.  Still I can't help today to see the humor in all that nonsense.  I'm glad I've come from sturdy stock otherwise I would not be where I am today.

Yes, today I am snug as a bug in a rug in a beautiful new apartment in an over age 55 complex that overlooks a golf course.  My patio view is spectacular. straight down a fairway.  Every day is a new adventure.  Zorro has learned to walk on a leash, CC has birds and grey squirrels to 'chicker' at; while geese, mallard ducks and a lone seagull meander up and down the course.  And finally, Frankie has had no reason to 'chicker' at me anymore.

Life is good once again folks...life is INDEED good.

P.S.  I know 'chicker' is not a word...I just made it up.  You can use it anytime you want.

Over the years

…though there have been just a few, one summer morning I wake up and realize it is the perfect morning to begin a vacation.  Oh, I'm not going to do that today, but the conditions are perfect for someone, anyone to be opening the trunk of their car and putting their suitcases into it.

If it were me, I can see myself, preparing snacks to munch along the way and a tall (mostly ice cube filled) container of water sitting on the kitchen counter next to my purse with my house keys sitting alongside.

Zorro and Frankie are so excited they can barely contain themselves.  They know something wonderful is about to happen.  Frankie pretends to be reading the colorful brochures of the places we are going to see.  She sits.  She stands weight on one foot and then the other. She sits.  Zorro of course wonders if he is going to participate or be stuck at home with some stranger checking in on him from time to time.

I wander through the house, checking locked windows and doors, make sure last potty breaks were taken and that the toilets are NOT idly running.  I know lights are on timers, mail service has been stopped, neighbors have been notified we will be gone, and one in particular has our itinerary 'just in case'.

By now, I've a gigantic lump of excitement in my throat, I run through all the things on my hand written note, my #2 pencil making various sized check marks as I go.  One last hasty walk through the house and I'm finally standing at my front door.  Frankie is making her way to the car; Zorro gives me a quizzical look as if to say, “Is this my final potty break?”

I breathe in the cool, rose and lemon mint scented air.  Bees flit by.  Summer birds sing.  I glance at the outdoor thermometer the temperature reads a perfect 68 degrees.  The sky is a cloudless amethyst blue.  I close the door and gaze around my neighborhood full of 'comfortable' while Frankie, Zorro and I begin a venture into the unknown and places never seen.  We're going to eat things we've never had before in quaint small town diners and sleep in uncomfortable beds not quite our own.  We'll stop at every local historical, natural and tourist trap to buy things that will eventually sit in draws or shelves gathering dust.

And finally we’ll come home; tired and weary yet eager to see things familiar...our freeway off ramp, the fast food joints, the neighborhood gas station, the neighborhood store and school.  Oh...there it is! The four way stop with blinking light and finally...our street...our block...our home.

Sigh.

Today would be a perfect day to start a vacation.

My Mountain Ash

There is a Mountain Ash tree in my neighbor's back yard I can clearly see from my office window. I've watched it grow from a sapling I tended for a few years while the house sat empty.   Over the years it grew to adulthood and my sapling tending has since given it the appearance of a man being 'held up' in some alleyway.  Its mouth in oblong '0', arms outstretched on either side of the main trunk.

Last year I reported the armpits had grown hair in the form of bright green moss giving the tree an even more human appearance.  I never know what to expect from this Ash from year to year.

This year something even more unexpected has happened.  Oh, the armpits are still distinguished, but the arm on its left has grown the start of new branches.  They started out tiny, and I suspected they would not survive the crazy spring weather we've had.

Well, color me surprised.  The all the newbies have indeed survived and are already well over two feet long, with still a long growing season ahead.  It will be interesting to see just how big and long they will be by the leaf shedding time.

Sadly, the tree is losing its human appearance, because the new branches are slowly covering the '0', and the left armpit will be behind them.  I so enjoy nature because there are always surprises, sometimes they are tiny and can be easily missed like the half robin's egg I found in my front yard a few days ago.  But, sometimes they are large and change the face of my environment in dramatic and pleasant ways.  Thank you Mountain Ash.

Frankie says...

yesterday's blog was a real downer.  And it was.  I'm here today to apologize.  I think it's time I put this whole thing to bed, and move on.

Frankie, Zorro, CC and I appreciate your input and loyalty.  I hope your lives continue to be happy and all your dreams are fulfilled.  Best wishes to all....

...and to all a good night.

I've been away...

...far, far away in the land of real estate.  It's a dark and ugly place. I'd like to report I can see the light at the end of this cave, but that is not the case.

My Realtor says if there are two cars on a used car lot, one is clean, pretty and shiny while the other has been sitting for a while and has some rust, dust and dried rain drop streams down the windshield, which car would you buy?  

I've given this serious thought.  So, I've been cleaning, pretty-fying and shining things up.

There have also been hurdles to jump, they have been high and for a short person not easy to jump...I keep trying.

Trust me...selling your home is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not easy for 'old people'.  The flyer states "Charming one level home", I guess that's true, however I think I would label it "Old Woman Homestead"; yep, we both have some rust, dust and dried raindrops streaming down the windows, and sometimes tears down my cheeks.

I hope this is all worth it.