“You are sitting in an emergency exit,” said the flight attendant as I flew home from Florida last week, “can you help people if there is an emergency?”

I shook my head up and down and down and up. “Absolutely,” I said.  I was a pro at handling sudden changes.  After all, I wanted to tell the flight attendant and those sitting next to me, just a few days prior, I had managed to move out of my old house, settle the closing on my old house, settle the closing on my new townhome, move into my new townhome, and fly to Florida to meet my sister N and find a new home for my mom in an assisted living facility.  Oh, oh, oh, and I also had a root canal in-between it all, in a molar no less.

“Does this sound like someone you can count on during an emergency?” Yes, yes, yes. Luckily, the flight went smoothly and all I had to do was walk off the plane in Philadelphia.  Thank you very much.

Now I am home sweet home and managing through all the changes that a move brings:

- Unpacking the 50+ boxes and deciding where to put everything. (“Where did I pack the portable heater? I know it is in one of these boxes,”  I said to my daughter A.  “If not, we’ll have to buy a new one.”)

- Moving furniture around to determine the best place for each piece. (The movers were nice guys until I told them to move the stationary bicycle in my bedroom a little to the left, then a little to the right, then a little to the left again, then a little further away from the wall. “It’s perfectly placed,” I finally said.)

- Changing my address with the postal service to ensure the timely delivery of my mail and changing my address on ALL my magazine subscriptions to ensure that I don’t miss a single January issue. (It was so easy to do everything online this time around.)

- Setting up my kitchen.  I think half of my boxes are kitchen boxes.  “The kitchen has so many cabinets,” said my daughter A when she arrived home for the holiday week.  “I know,” I replied, “I will fill them all, one by one.”  I treated myself to some new pots and pans for my new pad. I don’t know how to work the microwave convection oven and I can’t figure out the settings on my new refrigerator.  I am not good with appliances. I’m so glad to have my son D home for the next few weeks to help me manage through all this contemporary technology.

It’s difficult to make a move on my own in my 50+ years, but I did it.  I did it. 

I am settling into my new home.  I’m settling into a new routine.  I want to take some time to enjoy the decorating process…to ponder and pick out the right shades of paint for each room, to look through  catalogs and select the furniture for my home office (where one day I will hopefully sit and write my book)  and to find the perfect spot for each picture that will eventually go on the walls in each room.

For now, all I want to do is snuggle up and drink some hot cocoa while the snow falls.  It’s so nice to be in my new townhome.  I did pack my shovel and I know it is in the garage.  But, the best part of my new crib, my new pad, my new townhome is that someone else will be doing the shoveling from now on.

Oh, oh, oh, I did tell my boyfriend L that I would venture out once the snow plow guys leave and build a snowman and snowgirl.  But for now, I think I’ll just sit back and put some mini-marshmallows in my hot cocoa.  I just love mini-marshmallows.

Judi 

As I begin to pack up my possessions for my upcoming move, I’ve been reminded of all the memories that go along with those possessions. I’ve been accumulating a lot of stuff during the past 12 years since I’ve lived in my current house as well as possessions that I brought with me from prior houses.

I packed all my cookbooks in small boxes.  They are quite heavy for me, but I’m sure the movers will be able to move them. What memories I have of my past life when my late husband and I used to cook in our kitchen.

I remember waiting in line to get The Way to Cook signed by Julia Child during her book signing at Rizzoli’s bookstore on Fifth Avenue in NYC.  My late husband adored Julia and it was such a special gift.  There are many gravy stains on the pages of that cookbook.

I packed the Frugal Gourmet cookbooks.  My late husband enjoyed watching Jeff Smith’s cooking shows on PBS. They were popular shows in the 1990s.

I packed The Silver Palate cookbook.  Do you remember when Sheila Lukins and Julee Rosso started the gourmet craze in the mid ’80s.  Of course, I, like my fellow yuppies at the time, wanted to become a gourmet cook like Sheila and Julee.  That’s why I also bought the Frog Commissary cookbook. It was such a yuppie book at the time too with great recipes. (As I put this book in the box, I thought about my days working with a team of talented women in food, including Anne Clark, one of the authors of the Commissary cookbook, to start the Philadelphia Women’s Culinary Guild.  During some of our Board meetings, Anne would ask us to sample the recipes she was testing for the new cookbook.  I enjoyed the poached figs and other delicious treats Anne would serve.  Ask me if I made any Commissary recipes.  Yes, I did.  I made the incredibly rich Carrot Cake with its incredibly rich cream cheese frosting.  M’m it was SO GOOD, SO GOOD.)

I packed my Women’s Day collection of cookbooks from A to Z.  They are the best set of cookbooks I own and will eventually hand down to my children.  My mom’s friend bought them each week at the A&P supermarket.  When she passed away, she gave the set to my mom.  When my mom moved to Florida 20+ years ago, she gave the collection to me.  I have cherished them ever since.  My favorite recipe is the challah I make each year during the Jewish New Year.

I packed the Joy of Cooking.  That book has been like a cooking bible to me for many, many years.  Need to find out how to make coleslaw dressing? Check with Joy.  Need to know how long to roast a chicken?  Check with Joy.  Need to learn how to make a piecrust?  Check with Joy.  I don’t think I could have existed in my kitchen all these years without Joy.  Thank you Joy. Thank you Joy.

When New Orleans cooking was the rage in the ’80s, I bought Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen cookbook.  I made jambalaya that was SO SPICY I thought my late husband and I were going to set our mouths on fire. I made the sweet potato pie.  It was SO YUMMY.

I packed my Greek cookbook and my French cookbook.  I packed my Jewish cookbook and my Chinese cookbook. What other ethnic cookbooks did I pack?  Let me see. Ah yes, I packed my Italian cookbook.  How could I forget my favorite cuisine and all the pasta recipes I have tried over the years?

I packed the Spa Cuisine cookbook I just bought after my trip to the Miraval Spa. (Ask me if I made anything from this cookbook yet. No, I didn’t. But, I do intend to use it in my new home.)  I packed my Canyon Ranch cookbook that a friend had given me years ago. 

I packed my new Magnolia Bakery Cookbook.  (Ask me if I made anything from this cookbook.  Yes, yes, yes, I did.  My son and I worked very hard one evening a few weeks ago to try to replicate the famous Magnolia cupcakes that I love, love, love.  We used a pound of butter, many cups of flour and tons of confectioners sugar for the icing.  Ask me how they turned out.  Not good.  They were too rubbery and the icing didn’t look anything like the fluffy icing that is on the cupcakes at the Magnolia Bakery in NYC. We  will try this recipe again when I get into my new kitchen in my new home. Yes, we will make cupcakes again.)

I packed my Moosewood cookbooks from the famous Moosewood restaurant in Ithaca, N.Y.  Those cookbooks will always remind me of my hip and cool college days of the ’70s, when cookbook author Mollie Katzen began to move vegetarian cooking into the mainstream.

I packed old issues of Bon Appetit and Cooking Light magazines. I packed my old copies of Eating Well and Gourmet (which is now extinct). I packed my newspaper clippings with recipes from Craig Clairborne’s 30 Minute Gourmet column that used to appear in the food section of the New York Times every week during the ’80s.  He was ahead of his time dear Craig. I made almost every recipe because it was quick and easy and only took 30 minutes to prepare.

I will have lots of boxes of cookbooks to unpack when I get to my new home.  My new kitchen is not as large as my current one.  I don’t really do a whole lot of cooking anymore.  My life has changed so much over the past several years.  “Take out” and “go out” are now part of my weekly routine.  “Low fat” and “low cal” are on the menu more often. And when I need a recipe these days, I usually turn on my computer and search the worldwide web.

Despite the advances in technology and the changing food trends, each of these cookbooks will continue to have a special place in my kitchen and likely in my heart.  Like good friends, I know they will always be there when I want to sit and simmer a pot of  wonderful memories.

Judi

I just arrived back from my trip to Flo-Ree-Da to see my mom.  I am truly, deeply, absolutely exhausted. 

How do I begin?  Where do I begin?  I don’t know. I don’t know.  Ah, yes.  I have so much to share.  I think I’ll tell my story with some rhythm and rhyme.   I’m not a very good songwriter, but the tune that keeps playing again and again in my mind is Andy Williams’ “Love Story.” (Are you old enough to remember that song?  I think Frank Sinatra sang it too.)  Here’s my semi-version:

Where do I begin,
To tell the story of my long weekend in Flo-ree-da,
The drawn out story of five days in Flo-ree-da,
It’s such a story that I thought I’d write a song,
I’d write a song.

I landed on Thursday,
My mom was not at home she was far, far away,
She’d fallen ill and was in rehab for a stay,
Her apartment, yes, it was locked and I had no key,
But, her nice neighbor let me in, she let me in.

I headed off to the rehab facility,
“Don’t get lost,” said mom’s neighbors E and E,
I did get lost, I did get lost, but then I found the place,
“Where is my mom?” I sweetly said to the nice nurse,
“She’s in the west wing,” she waved her hand at me and said go see.
I took a walk, I took a walk.

I found my mom, I found my mom,
I was so glad she was alright,
I smiled, then she hugged me very tight,
Her legs had given out and she was very weak,
Her mind was sharp,
She was not meek. She was not meek.

No Olive Garden dinners, no Chinese food to eat,
Instead I dined alone on matzoh ball soup and enjoyed a large black and white cookie for my treat.
I dined alone. I dined alone.

I drove around to find the nearest Wal-Mart,
I drove around to Walgreens too,
I tried to buy two high-top seats for her pot-tees.
When darkness came, I wished instead I had some vodka and hot tod-dees.
I went to bed, I went to bed.

“What are the plans?” said social worker B, “what are the plans, today, today?
“Assisted living, nursing home, home care, or your house…is that okay?
“How will your mom survive alone?”
No, no, no, I did not like her tone, her tone.

“No, no, no,” I said as the tears came to my eyes.
“My mom will not only survive, survive.
“With your occupational and physical therapy I know she’ll thrive.”
I know she’ll thrive.  I know she’ll thrive.

I drove around to find the nearest Wal-Mart,
I drove around to Walgreens too,
I tried to return the high-top seats for her pot-tees.
When darkness came, I wish instead I had some vodka and hot tod-dees.
I went to bed, I went to bed.

Home health aids, insurance, CVS, Arthurs Medi-shop, I made the calls,
The only spot I missed was Coral Springs and a few such other malls
Deeds, living wills, other documents I searched them out,
By the end of the weekend all I wanted to do was shout.
I wanted to shout.  I wanted to shout.

“My mom is smart, my mom is great.”
She’ll be walking better soon.  Just you wait, just you wait.

I packed my bags and said good-bye to my dear ma,
Your tanless daughter must say adieu to Flo-ree-da,
I’ll see you soon, I will return,
Meantime, you be good and stay stern,
Make sure they take good care of you,
Yes, do your therapy and eat well too,

I’ll be back soon.  I promise that,
By then you’ll be back in your home flat.
I love you so.  I always will.
Rest assured my sister N and I will never leave you over the hill,
Your new tv it will be fixed, as will the window that the lightening has nixed
I’ll search high and low to find you some new pot-tees,
But, most importantly,  we’ll really celebrate with a jug full of vodka tod-dees,
We’ll celebrate with vodka tod-dees. We’ll celebrate with vodka tod-dees.

Judi

Since it is almost the end of the calendar year, I thought I’d go back and take a look at what my astrologer had predicted for me this year.  I had a wonderful astrology reading by Carolyn Crawford when I was out at the Miraval Spa last winter. 

Did Carolyn’s predictions come true?  Should I believe in this stuff?  Hmm, hmm, hmm.  Let’s see…

- Carolyn predicted that I would be very busy at work during the spring and that I would not be signing any contracts on my house.  CAROLYN WAS RIGHT!  I didn’t put my house on the market until the very end of August.  I tried to get it all fixed up during the prime buying season, but I never made it in time.

- Carolyn predicted that the weekend of May 30th would be a stressful time for me.  That was the weekend I attended my boyfriend L’s son’s wedding.  I met his ex.  It was more stressful for L than for me.  CAROLYN WAS A BIT OFF…BUT MAYBE SHE WANTED ME TO CHANNEL THE STRESS FOR MY MATE L. However, I was a bit stressed when one of the hors d’oeurves fell off the fork during the reception and soiled my indigo gown. 

- Carolyn predicted that June would be a good month.  It was.  It was.  CAROLYN WAS RIGHT AGAIN!  I so enjoyed June weekends at my condo on the corner at the shore.

- Carolyn said that August would be a happy time too.  She said that my relationship with L would be very steady.  Yes, it was.  We took lots of steady walks on the beach during August and practiced our twirls after each walk. (I’m trying to get L to take dance lessons, but twirls are as far as I’ve gotten so far.  I’ll have to go back to see Carolyn, or perhaps another more local astrologer in the new year, and see what she predicts for dance lessons for 2011.)

- “During the end of October, one of your children will experience a great deal of career success,” said Carolyn.  CAROLYN WAS RIGHT!  YES, SHE WAS!  YES, SHE WAS! My daughter A got a big job promotion in October.  I am so proud of A and her BIG accomplishments. 

- “You will be buying and selling real estate in November,” said Carolyn, “no sale before then.”  And all along I thought I was procrastinating about the listing of my house.  This is what Carolyn meant.  SHE WAS RIGHT!  My house sold this fall and now I am moving in about six weeks.

What does the rest of the year hold for me?  And what about the new year? 

According to Carolyn, I have lots to look forward to on December 27th.  All my planets will be aligned and this alignment only happens once every two years.  It is supposed to be a really nice day.  I’ll have to mark my calendar and do something special.

According to Carolyn, I will have extra dollars to spend on my home in January 2011.  (Maybe I should play the lottery on December 27th or go to Atlantic City and play the BIG slot machine on December 27th.  Maybe I will win and have lots of money to spend on my new townhome in January 2011.)

Oh, Carolyn.  Oh, Carolyn.  You are such a great astrologer.  I will definitely have to visit Miraval again and schedule another astrology reading some time in the future.

Oh, no.  Oh, no. Tonight at yoga my meditation card said “The Present.”   It said that “if I live in the present, the future will never come. That I should cherish each day, here and now.”

But what about all of Carolyn’s predictions for the rest of the year? What about December 27th…my special day?  And what about having lots of money to spend on my new home in January 2011?  

The Present.  Predictions.  The Present.  Predictions. 

Which way should I go? 

I think I should still buy a lottery card on December 27th.  You never know what can happen…I’m going with Carolyn on this one.

Judi

“What, you aren’t keeping the front loading washer and dryer?” said my daughter A as I told her about my soon-to-be moving day. (I hope, I hope if all goes well.)

“But, I won’t be able to bring home my delicate clothes to be washed anymore,” said A, “I used to save so much money.  Now, I’ll have to take my delicates to the cleaner.”

“I know, I liked those washers and dryers too,” said my son D.

“Don’t worry,” I replied to my kids, “Eventually, I will buy new front loaders and I bet they will be even better, with more advanced technology.”

I vividly remember the momentous day when I purchased my front loading Kenmore washer and dryer about five or six years ago.  I really wanted the gold washers, since I like earth tones.  Instead, I bought the grey ones, since the gold ones cost significantly more. I remember how my kids made fun of me when I fell in love with my washer and dryer. 

“I’ve never seen someone so excited about a washer and dryer,” said my son D at the time. They both laughed at me and my new prized possessions.  I even built a special laundry room for my dark grey twosome.  I bought the pedestals to put them on too…of course my new front loaders deserved to be put on pedestals.  They were THE most special appliances and I took great care of them.

Unfortunately, I did include the front loaders as part of the sale of my house.  So in approximately two months (I hope, I hope, if all goes well) I will be moving on, but my favorite front loaders will be staying put.  I hope the new owner will treat them with kindness — that she will make sure the washer is cleaned once a month with its special rinse cycle and the dryer is lint-free.  (However, I must admit that just this weekend I was angry at my dryer for the first time.  That’s because, my dryer shrunk my Spanx Super Tummy Control Unbelievable underwear.  By accident, I threw my Spanx in the dryer with my other clothes.  Now they are so small that I think they could fit a Barbie doll.  Note to self: Never, ever throw any future Spanx in the dryer!)

While I prep and pack and pack and prep for my big December move, I must shed the BIG LOADERS for a townhome with other perks that are more important.  I no longer will have to find landscapers or tree removal services.  I will no longer have to hunt down contractors to clean leaves from my gutters in the fall or clear my driveway of mountains of snow in the winter. 

Instead, I will gain more time, perhaps to blog more or begin to write my book about the extraordinary journey I have been on during my life after 50.  I will be moving during the week of the third anniversary of my husband’s passing.  It will be a bittersweet day.  All the memories of the past 13 years of my life on the ranch (aka ranch house) will soon be behind me.(I hope, I hope if all goes well.) There are so many wonderful memories to savor.

Wonder what new wonderful memories I will create in my new townhome?  Wonder what new friends I will make in my new community?  Can’t wait to decorate and buy furniture for my new office loft. And I think I’ll eventually make one of the bedrooms a yoga/meditation room.  Ah yes, that other bedroom would be perfect for an exercise room for my stationary bicycle.

“Hold on,” said my son D.  “What about my room?”

“Where am I going to sleep?” said my daughter A, as I told her that I was not taking her bedroom furniture.  That furniture is more than 20 years old and is ready to be donated to charity so a new little girl can enjoy it.

“Don’t worry,” I said to my kids, “There will be plenty of room for you both when you come home to visit. (I hope, I hope if all goes well.) You are both welcome to my empty nest anytime, just don’t bring your delicates.  My laundromat is now temporarily closed to visitors!

Judi

Have you been on Facebook?  What you have hardly any friends on Facebook?  (However, I did see “The Social Network” movie this past weekend and it inspired me to think about ramping up my Facebook pages…but I haven’t yet.  And I was definitely in the “older people” camp as David Carr referred to in his NY Times article this week, “the older people who believed this to be a cautionary tale about a callous young man who betrays friends, partners and principles as he hacks his way to fame.”)

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Have you been on Twitter?  What you haven’t tweeted today?

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Have you used your new Wii?  Why haven’t you used your new Gold’s Gym Dance game that you won at the BlogHer conference?  What’s that…you’ve only danced once since you bought the Wii Gaming System specifically to dance?

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Have you read a book on your Kindle lately? Glad you downloaded several books, but have you read any of them in recent months?

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

I know you just bought that wonderful new Magnolia Bakery Cookbook filled with recipes from the World-Famous Bakery in NYC where you ate the most wonderful vanilla cupcakes.  But, but, but, have you baked any cupcakes yet?  (I haven’t baked any cupcakes.  I so want to bake the vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and put sprinkles on top.  I bought the confectioners’ sugar yesterday for the icing.  Soon, soon, soon.  I must bake those vanilla cupcakes.  Ooh, ooh, ooh, I have to buy new muffin tins and cupcake holders before I can bake the vanilla cupcakes.)

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Have you read the October issues of Vogue, “O“, More, and InStyle?  No, no, no.  I’m still catching up with my September issue of Vanity Fair and haven’t even gotten to the article on Lady Gaga yet. (I do like this magazine.  I don’t subscribe, but I bought the issue on the newsstand because Lady Gaga is on the cover with gray hair and I do love Lady Gaga.  No, no, no, Judi you cannot subscribe to another magazine. Throw out that subscription card.  Do it now. Do it. Do it…throw it out RIGHT NOW.)

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Wait a minute.  Wait just a minute.

I have to stop thinking about all the things I haven’t done and start thinking about all the things I have done:

I have risen every morning and bicycled for 15 minutes while multi-tasking and reading my September magazines.

I have gone for my massage almost every week and taken my yoga class most Tuesday evenings. (Ohm, namaste.)

I have cut up all the tree branches that fell down on my lawn after the many rain storms. (Okay, my boyfriend L helped me cut up the large branches, but I dragged the heavy trash cans down to the curb this evening for tomorrow’s recycling pick up.)

I have lifted my weights at the gym this week and paid my bills so the electric and gas companies will keep my lights on and my heat running. (It is getting colder.)

And, finally, I may have sold my house and may put a bid in on a townhouse if the sale goes through. 

Whew, I am getting tired just reading all I have done.

Oh, no. Oh, no. It can’t be. 

What’s that in the mail box? The November issue of “O” magazine. It’s only October 6th? That’s not fair.

So much to do…I can’t keep up with myself.

Judi

The leaves are falling.  The squirrels are climbing all over my trees and eating the acorns and the leaves are falling all over my lawn.

Is the Summer of 2010 really over? 

They say that the older you get, the faster the days and years go by.  I guess what they say is quickly becoming true.

Since it was 92 degrees this past weekend, I was able to sneak in one last bathing suit beach walk.  The sand was windswept. It looked just like a painting, like someone had used an Etch-a-Sketch and designed a geometric carpet in the sand.  It was so smooth and flat.  There were no piles or mounds of sand.

The little sandpipers were back, scurrying along the waters’ edge.  I think they like the empty beaches.  There were no groups of people to get in their way while they searched for sand crabs.  I love to watch the sandpipers.

Is the Summer of 2010 really over?

I don’t want summer to end.  I want to ride my boogie board one more time.  I only had one chance to ride it this summer.  (Actually, I did have more than one chance to ride my boogie board, but I didn’t have the courage to get on it after the first time.  I am such a wimp.  However, if the summer of 2010 was not over, I would definitely try to use my boogie board again.  Yes, I would. And I’m going to take special care to make sure that my boogie board is stored away properly this winter, so I will be ready to boogie next summer.)

Is the Summer of 2010 really over?

I am sad to leave the summer of 2010 behind.  Like Anne Morrow Lindbergh says in her book, A Gift From the Sea, “Rollers on the beach, wind in the pines, the slow flapping of herons across sand dunes, drown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules.  One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. One becomes, in fact, like the element on which one lies, flattened by the sea, bare, open, empty as the beach, erased by today’s tides of all yesterday’s scribblings.”

I so enjoyed relaxing, de-stressing, riding my bicycle, barbecuing, and reading on my back porch at my ‘condo on the corner at the shore.’ I still have not finished the book I started at the beginning of the summer.  I’ll have to finish it this Fall.


Is the Summer of 2010 really over?

I don’t want summer to be over.  I don’t want to pack up my summer clothes and move my winter attire back into my closet. I want to keep my flip-flops on my feet and flip and flop in the sand.

Wait, wait, wait, maybe I do want summer to be over.  Maybe just a little bit of me wants summer to be over.  Maybe my feet want summer to be over.

Wait, my feet are starting to talk.  What are they saying.  Hold on. Yes.  I hear you dear feet.  What is that you say?

Yes, you are right.  I do want to wear my new red suede shoes with sling backs.

Yes, that’s correct. I do want to wear my new purple suede flats bedecked with jewels.

Yes, uh, huh. I do want to wear my new brown suede kitten-heeled shoes too.

I guess I have to pack away my summer flip-flops and put my feet back undercover in all my pretty suede shoes.

The summer of my 52nd year is really over.   But, I still can row my boat like I did tonight at yoga class. Yes, I can.

I settled into the boat position and held my feet up.  I waved my arms from side to side, like my yoga teacher N said to do.  Back and forth I went until my boat became weak and wobbly. It started to flip over. The waves of my stomach overturned my boat and down I went sails and all.

It takes a lot of core strength to keep my boat afloat. I have nine more months to practice until I have to get back in the high seas again. Maybe if I keep practicing my yoga boat moves this winter, my middle aged middle will be flat as a pancake and ready to boogie or maybe even get in a bikini  by the summer of 2011.

Judi


(Did I say bikini?  I must have been dreaming about my Rosemarie Reed striped bikini that I wore when I was 25 years old.  I loved that striped bikini. Good thing Rosemarie isn’t around anymore. Right?)