Settling Into My New Home

“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 

A Courageous Move

As I sit here at my desk today, for what will be the last time I will write from my home of the past 12 years, there are so many emotions swirling around in my mind.  This week, I am moving to a new home, a townhome in a new town nearby.  I am right-sizing, as I like to say to my friends, not down-sizing.

I am sad to be leaving the home where I spent almost half of my married life raising my children through their elementary and teenage years.  I have all the memories stowed away in the 50+ boxes and crates I have packed during the past few weeks. 

All of my son D’s trophies will be moving with us to my new townhome.  As will the hundreds or likely thousands of family photos (before digital existed) of son D and daughter A. D and A and I chuckled several times as we packed the many envelopes filled with photos.   I had to look at them all before I packed them away for moving day:

- D in his first Halloween costume (he was such a cute bumblebee);
- A at her kindergarten graduation (she even wore a cap and gown at age 5);
- D playing soccer and lacrosse (he gave away the lacrosse helmet, but packed the stick for the move);
- A taking her first gymnastic class and playing basketball (no more team sports, now she goes to the NYC gym to exercise);
- D at his high school prom and on graduation day (that was one of the most rewarding days of my life…and he wasn’t wearing diapers, as my pediatrician had assured me during the early days when I never thought he would potty train);
- A at her college graduation (I was equally proud of her accomplishments as she prepared to start her career in finance).

Then there are all the family photos from when we took our summer vacations.  We went fun places as a family.  Each November, we would go to Florida to visit grandma P and then take our standard excursion to the parks in DisneyWorld or Universal.  There are also photos from our summer trips to fun spots in California – Santa Monica, Lake Tahoe, and our last trip as a family to San Diego.  The picture of the four of us in the courtyard of the San Diego Del Coronado Hotel will always be one of my favorites.  It was taken the year before my late husband took ill. 

So many memories are packed up in these 50+ boxes that will move with me to my new townhome later this week.  I am happy to be moving.  After three years of being on my own, I am ready to move on to a new home of my own.  At times it feels like it did when I was in my early 20s, when I was young and single and didn’t have anything holding me back.  The world was my oyster, as the famous phrase goes.  It was mine to conquer, to grow, to learn, to try new things.

Now, as I approach my third year of being a widow, I am striking out again.  I am older and wiser and the world is once again my oyster.  It is time to conquer, to grow, to learn and to try new things.

Tomorrow, I will lock the door on the past 12 years of my life, but I’m keeping all the photos as a reminder of those wonderful years. 

“You are making a courageous move,” said doctor F at my therapy session last week.  “You should be proud of yourself.” 

I never thought of myself as courageous, but I do feel a sense of pride in all that I have accomplished during the past three years and pleased with the courageous changes I have made.  I feel like I’m ready to light some fireworks, put some new sparkle in this next phase of my life.  Ooh, ooh, ooh, I think it’s time to sing a verse or two of Katy Perry’s new song “Firework.”  It describes the other emotion that is bottle up inside me at this moment. 

Sing a few verses with me, after all, you, my readers are the reason I can feel this way. Thank you for supporting me through this courageous move and all the courageous changes that came along with it the past three years.  I’ll be in touch in 2011…or maybe before if my cable guy shows up like he is supposed to.  For now, sing with me, sing with me….

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting throught the wind
Wanting to start again


Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in


Do you ever feel already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that there’s still a chance for you
Cause there’s a spark in you


You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ‘em what your worth
Make ‘em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you’re a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make ‘em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
You’re gonna leave ‘em fallin’ down-own-own


You don’t have to feel like a waste of space
You’re original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you’re reason why all the doors are closed
So you can open one that leads you to the perfect road
Lightening bolt, your heart will blow
And when it’s time, you’ll know

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July


Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ‘em what your worth
Make ‘em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y


Baby you’re a firework
Come on slet your colors burst
Make ‘em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
You’re gonna leave ‘em fallin’ down-own-own

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It’s always been inside of you, you, you
And now it’s time to let it through

Judi

Gobble, Gobble, Turkey Neck

Oh me, oh my.  The more I look in the mirror lately, the more I notice my growing turkey neck.  That little bit of skin on my neck, just like a turkey’s neck, seems to be hanging low on one side.  Gobble, gobble.  Did I eat too much Thanksgiving turkey last week?  Is that why my neck is starting to flap? 

Good thing I didn’t eat too much ham or I might have piggy-itis as well.  I definitely would rather have turkey neck than a piggy stomach to go with my increasing pear-shaped body. (Although, my piggy bank could use a little more fullness, especially since I’ve been emptying it out of late as I get ready for my big move.)

I’ve been trying to work on the wrinkles on my face, but have to do a better job of working on my neck.  The nice PR staff at Johnson & Johnson sent me a sample of the new RoC BRILLIANCE Night Recharging Moisturizer to try out as part of my boomer beauty evening regimen.  It has a grayish activating serum that you put on your face first and then a recharging creme that goes on top of the serum. I’ve been cheating a bit and adding some of both the serum and creme to my neck in hopes that this treatment will bring new life to my neck as well as to my face.  Is it working?

“Your face is just like a baby’s tush,” said my boyfriend L, “it is so soft.” But what about my neck L?  What about my turkey neck? Gobble, gobble.

I also bought a VIC Face and Body Cloth last week. It’s a “wonderful stimulating wash cloth that revs up circulation and promotes radiant complexion.”  I’ve been using the cloth each morning to rev up my face and my neck.  I figure maybe with some revving my turkey neck may disappear. Gobble, gobble.

I’m also doing my yoga stretches to try to firm up my neck.  I bend my head back and open and close my mouth several times. Ohm, ohm, gobble, gobble, gobble. 

Before I know it, I’ll be 53.  For sure as I age the other side of my neck may start to flap in the breeze and hang low as I go.  Then I’m going to have to do what Nora Ephron and Diane Keaton have suggested aging women do and start to wear more turtleneck sweaters and tops.  But, but, but, I don’t like turtlenecks. I don’t want to put a turtleneck on my turkey neck. No turtlenecks or cowl necks for me. I just don’t like them.

I know what I can do.  Yes I do.  I can wrap my turkey neck in a scarf.  I do love scarves. And, like the Europeans, I know how to twist and tie my scarves all around my neck.  Plus, I have lots of pashimas and long colorful scarves in a variety of styles. Ooh, ooh, ooh, but I may need some additional scarves to go with ALL my outfits.

Winter, spring, summer, fall.  Guess, I’ll have to make a trip back to the accessory shop at the Nordstroms’ mall. 

And I think I may have to stop eating so many turkey sandwiches too. Gobble, gobble, gobble. 

Judi