New View and Last Details

This is the view from my new living room. Okay, the sailboat may not always be there, but there's water and things will come and go. Coast Guard cutters, wind surfers, who knows? It's not that I have settled in yet. No, I took this photo during the 3 hours I spent waiting utilities to be turned on. I was grateful for that boat.

It gave me a lot of time to rummage through the drawers of the new digs and read the warranty and care of various features in the house like the granite counter tops, the bamboo floor, the shower stall. If you walk away from something for a time and then come back to it, you realize you can indeed create a whole new scenario. For instance, I thought the kitchen floor was the same tile as the bathroom floors. No. It's bamboo just like the living and dining rooms. Now, here's the problem. I love wood floors in the kitchen, but the care instructions say, DO NOT USE WATER ON BAMBOO FLOORS! I'm sure no water will get on my bamboo floor in the kitchen. No sand will enter on Ollie's or my paws either.

Today the rain is torrential and the wind is really blowing. I had to venture out to meet a board member so I took that opportunity to go to the hardware store and spend more money that I don't have. I bought those little foot pads to place under furniture. I spent $12 or more on them and it doesn't come close to the amount of floor protectors I need. Then I followed my friend Kathryn's advice and bought the same shelf liner that she buys. Actually, I bet I didn't buy the same shelf liner she buys. One was more supple and more expensive. I bought the hard but still very costly ribbed shelf liner. I will let Kathryn and Francey line the shelves and drawers.

It's sweet to know that so many folks are going to show up to help on Tuesday. It really warms my heart and will warm my home. And it's supposed to be a cool, sunny day, perfect for moving. I'll figure out food and beverages for the crowd and light a fire in the fireplace as it grows dark. I hope to god it doesn't burn the house down. A lot of soot is falling out of that flue.

Today I've been trying to tie up the bits and pieces. I don't know why I think I have a lot of time. I have no time. I'm in the corner cupboard with the spices. This is a difficult and treacherous area of the house and split up. I have big jars of spices but not the mechanism to split them up. But what is more expensive: spices or furniture? So I'm not going to drive myself nuts over this. Every step of this packing, right down to now, is debilitating. I'm going through the motions but my entire being is feeling "no, no, no." I can't wait until Wed. (provided I close on Tues.). I want to wake up and not have the sad, emotional surroundings staring me in the face. I want to wake up in a yellow! bedroom and smile and say, "This is the beginning of my new life."

Another weird thing is that once I move in I will only be able to spend 14 days in my new house in October because of travel. And that doesn't even count the time away while I'm at work. There's not a lot of time to bond. And I must admit, I'm a bit apprehensive of having a puppy and floors that can't deal with moisture and brand new wall to wall carpeting. I'm hoping Ollie is as pliable and perfect as Maude and Harpo. They just snuggled into bed and were perfect little beings--except for a couple of shoe incidents with Maude. From what I see in the videos posted of him, he is a rough and tumble boy. He might be plump though that's impossible to tell with puppies. Maybe I should have named him Stan. Ollie might have been funny, but he was a brute.

I think it must have rained 6 inches today.

Tuesday and Moving Day # I

It's Tuesday. The ex closes on Thursday. I cannot close until a week from today. The movers come tomorrow. Comcast comes on Thursday morning. My mortgage person and realtor are trying to get me a use of occupancy agreement so that I can move in earlier than the closing. I'm praying this will happen. I've spent the afternoon sweating and coughing, trying to finish up and organize things for the movers. A ridiculous thought really. There's no place to move. They are on their own. Fortunately, they are really good at this stuff, so I might just close my eyes and let them have their way with it all.

Wednesday now... the movers are here. I feel as though I should be helping. They are young and strapping men. They lift 4 or 5 boxes at a time. I want to take a million photos of them but I feel as though I'm being invasive. So instead I'm sitting on the couch documenting as they labor away carrying all my fragile junk down a flight of stairs, onto a dolly, down the street to load it onto the big truck. I think even they were surprised by the number of boxes.

I realize now that I've done a poor job of marking the boxes. I have no idea what's in them. Except for books, books, books, cookbooks, cookbooks, cookbooks, then fragile, fragile, fragile. I don't know where I'm going to tell them to put the stuff when it gets delivered.

I don't know what I'll do if I have to wait until Tuesday to move. I can't imagine getting settled and flying to Italy 2 days later. I don't want to come back to a mass of disorganization. I don't think I packed well enough. I don't think I labeled things well enough. I'm starting to hyperventilate.

Hours later and I know more now then I did before. I will definitely NOT being moving in prior to Tuesday. They will unload, store, and reload the truck. I would weep, but I'm too tired to produce tears. Too frustrated to produce tears. It just feels unfair. The one thing I can say is that this house is much more spacious and feels so much better than it did. Kind of.

I still have clothes to pack, food, a little bits of this and that. I'm in relatively good shape, I think. And I'm not talking about my personal self.

It's too bad all the good things fell into the same month. Getting a new house is like getting the biggest new toy ever. And you want to play with it a lot until you get it just right. Getting a new puppy is like having a baby. You want to play with it forever, but you also want it to sleep through the night. Going to Italy for the first time will probably be magical. Spending Halloween in San Francisco will probably also be magical but in a much different way.

I don't think I will be playing with my house too much for a long time. Now it's 9 PM. The seller isn't all that interested in letting me move in early or renting. So, it's a waiting game. I will try not to resent his decision because I know that is what he is advised to do. But this really stinks..

It's odd here. It's spacious. I like it. If I had decided early on to live here with nothing or only the perfect handful of things and 5 perfect outfits and two sets of jeans, would I have been happier? No. Too much to give up at once. Just like now. Dragging it all with me because I don't want to lose anymore than I've lost already. The waiting continues. As for the photos above, I would never arrange them like this, but this blog application is limited. I think I need to do more investigating.

Sunday

It's another warm, shiny day. I have a bouquet of cosmos, zinnia and dahlia in a vase on the coffee table, and a bunch of zinnia, a rose and a big fat french marigold on the side table next to the couch. Sounds lovely doesn't it. Now if one could only see them through the glut of moving debris.

Above is my second purchase from yesterday's Truro Treasures outing. Sweet! And this is why I'm surrounded by boxes. I read in a Home guide in the newspaper today that the trick to decorating was to keep things simple. In my head, I foresee simplicity. In my heart, there's going to be crap all over the place. I'm just moving my crap from one place to another. BUT there will be more places to hide my crap, and that is the beauty of my ever-evolving plot.

This afternoon I went back to the Truro Treasures flea market, not for me, but for friends from NM. I didn't expect or want to see anything I'd buy but I found this perfect, lovely painted framed, oval mirror. It's not old, but it does a darn good job of looking old. I thought, how Swedish and bought it! Not only that, I can't take the antique mirror from our bedroom. Well, I could but I'm being nice.

Another good day: tour of my new house, flea market, Thai food. End of the evening and as my friend Carolyn is driving me home, her friend Joe runs out with a bag of white and milk chocolate cookies. And they had nuts in them. And they were the size of plates but thin and chewy. And she shared! Sometimes we get pretty lucky.

Serenity

To Friend Jossie
March the 5, 1887

Who taught the bird to build her nest of wool and hay and moss
Who taught her how to weave her best and and lay her twigs across.
Manor Dale
Compliments of Ida E. Cline


I woke up this morning and realized that ultimately it doesn't matter what happens in the next week or so. I will get the house, I will move, I will go to Italy, I will be happy. Stop stressing already! It was probably one of the most beautiful weather days of the year. I sat outside for the first time for a little while this morning in dazzling sun with a dazzling bay in front of me.

Then Pat and I went to Truro Treasures. I could have purchased a bunch of stuff if I had money and if I knew where I was going to put it. Instead I bought a vintage white dish towel embroidered with the word china and drawings of cups in blue. And I bought, what I think is a page from a grade school autograph book from the 1800's that has a lovely drawing of two birds hovering over a nest of little birds and a hand-written poem from one schoolmate to another. It has another poem on the back. LOVE IT! My friends Rob & Dan showed up and Rob yelled, "Put that down. I've been in your house. You don't need another thing!" Well, technically speaking he is correct. But if that really meant something, I would have stopped buying things in 1987. Clearly he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Then I went to the farmers' market and bought the most expensive tomatoes on the planet. And a lovely bouquet from Len, my best flower friend. Then I went to return a pair of shoes that were too shiny for my trip to Italy and it took me over an hour to find a replacement. I love the shoes that I bought but it seems that they may be falling apart and I've only worn them for 3 blocks.

Then do you want to know what I did next, because I know this is riveting and you just can't wait to find out what is going to happen...I met friends for adult beverages at their new condo overlooking the harbor and then we went to dinner to celebrate Ellen's birthday. Home by 9. Boom. Swell day. Really a perfect day. We even made plans for tomorrow....my seller will probably throw another open house and I'll take folks over to see it and explain to him that it really is going to happen. And please keep liking me. And then we may go to the Truro Vineyard Grape Stomping because Laurie thinks she needs to experience this. I think I'd like to see it. I don't think I have the proper Italian garments for the job!

This has been a good weekend. Last night Carolyn and I went to an art opening at the Provincetown Museum and Art Association featuring a survey of work by my new friend Ciro Cozzi. I usually feel like a wallflower at these things. Not last night. Ciro gave me a big kiss and hug and Patty his wife was happy to see me and did the same. I don't know them well, but there is an immediate love fest with them. I made them dinner one night and it was such a special experience for me. And I loved Ciro's art. And I haven't been to an art opening since the breakup so I was able to see a lot of people I have missed for a long time. Lots of hugs and kisses, lots of shoulder raising and me responding with, "I know, there's nothing really to say." Instead of feeling lost, I felt found.

Endings

The ex was supposed to close today but didn't. Still no word on when that closing will take place, so that means no word on when mine will take place. My lawyer goes on vacation next week and is upset that I want the closing to take place then. I can't trust that my mortgage person won't work in her best interests as opposed to mine which means I will move in a day or two before leaving for Italy. I'm so anxiety-ridden, I took a sick day and walked around the house looking at the impossibility of any of this working out. But I know it will. I'll go back to saying I have faith that it will work out.

There is an unnerving consequence to splitting up property and moving on, not that I've ever done it before. It makes you very mercantile. Suddenly you need a new set of flatware, or a toaster oven, or rugs, or on and on. The problem is that it's the worst time to spend money. You know once you sit down in the lawyer's office and start signing your name and initials on 58 pages of mortgage documents that the vacuum has already been hooked up to your bank account and you can almost hear the sucking sound.

My son asked me for some financial help yesterday and I had to say no. And I had to say, my life has changed. I no longer live in a two income household. I caught myself off guard. That means I can't help my kids when they need help; it means I have to balance my checkbook, it means I must concentrate on saving as much money as I can before I'm able to retire at the age of 80. It means I can't fly to NM to see my granddaughter anytime I want (not that I've ever been able to). It means occasionally I may have to rely on a friend and that to me would be the most difficult. My self-sufficiency seems like one of my strongest traits. At least that is what I like to tell myself. I stay self-sufficient by staying home and minding my own business. If you threw me out of a plane in a foreign land, I'd probably curl up in a ball and die.

Even though I know the end is in sight, it still feels as though I will never move from here. It's my own little existential play. I live in a labyrinth with no exit.

To make matters worse, the ex and I are having email arguments. I know it's the tension of this week but it's more than that. It's making me reflect on the whole relationship, everything ever expected of me. What I did right, what I did wrong. What went wrong. It's giving me the strangest dreams, dreams of my life far back in time. I wake up exhausted and with a nervous stomach.

So the end is in sight. I know that. And it means more that just closing on a house and moving. To put a positive spin on it, it means creating something new. It means a life filled with opportunities. Bella Italia, Ollie, a new year that I am looking forward to with relish. Perhaps more new friends, creativity, an organized home, CLOSETS, beauty, company, lots of great meals, game night, knit night, laughter and maybe I'll even regain my sense of humor. It won't necessarily be Family Fun, just a new and different type of fun.

Faith & Closets

I don't want to be an alarmist but I woke up with morning with a feeling of doom and intense anxiety. The thought was, what if this all falls apart and we have to put the house on the market. What would I do? Would I unpack the boxes? Would I put everything in storage for an indefinite period of time?

I'm about to purchase the 5th piece of property I've owned as an adult. This has by far been the most trying and agonizing attempt at closing that I've ever been through. And it doesn't have anything to do with me. I'm still just waiting, biding my time, trying to keep faith that it will all work out.

Unfortunately, it clouds my brain. And I don't feel as though I can accomplish as much as I need to.

Okay, everyone hold on to your hats; just got an email from my mortgage person. She said we should be hearing something very soon and that she will contact me immediately. I told her that if I didn't have a closing date soon I was going to die. No pressure there. If drama gets me results, I'm all for it.

Maybe now I can return to fantasizing about the new abode. Or worrying about it. I'm wondering where I'm going to put all my bowls and pitchers and platters and small appliances, blah blah blah. Problems of luxury. I guess I will put them in one of the five, count them FIVE, 1,2,3,4,5 closets that I have on the first floor level of my new home. FIVE CLOSETS! I didn't even have 5 closets in my house in CT. And they are big closets. And every thing is accessible. I can open two doors and voila, I think I will reach for that or that or that. Nothing will fall over on me, I won't have to claw my way through coats, brooms, swiffers, and a pile of other junk. It will all be perfectly organized. In fact, the photo above was stolen from Martha Stewart's organizing tips. I think my closet will look nicer than Martha's closet, and bigger! To prove this, after I have moved and settled in, I will photograph my broom closet. You can be the judge. Yes, sir, this practically feels like rebirth.

Stasis

So I thought this was a cute exercise for a while. A way to vent my various feelings about packing, reviewing history, packing and getting on with my life. I never anticipated when I started this that I would still be settled in the same section of the couch surrounded by newspapers, boxes and dirt on September 13.

In a mere 20 days, I depart on a Lufthansa flight for Italy. At some point between now and then, I'm hoping this rat trap gets closed on and I am able to close on my pristine, new oasis. I just don't want that to be on September 30. I have had 3 closing dates already that have fallen through; I have had to postpone the turning on of utilities; I've had to postpone my movers who are storing a bunch of things in their warehouse and I will have to set all of these appointments again. Still with no closing date on the horizon.

In a rash moment of hope, I purchased four bags of different narcissus that I want to plant in front of my new home. I'd also like to plant the climbing rose my brother-in-law gave me before it dies or gets too cold to dig a hole. All these little indications of hope, on my part, dashed by another note from another attorney or mortgage person.

A darling friend keeps bringing me presents. This needs to stop. I don't want to pack anymore. At the same time, I keep buying things I know I will need for the phantom house. Or the trip for Italy. Or my new puppy, Ollie, whom I need to squeeze into this moving equation. To name a few of these purchases, a puppy crate, a cheetah print cozy bed to put inside of it, two feather pillows, a set of towels, dry measuring cups. That kind of thing. Could I live with one set of towels? Of course, but it doesn't seem right to have your guests bring their own.

I have survived the last of my very busy summer weeks. Hallelujah! Yesterday, I ran to the Swim for Life and hugged all my friends who were swimming; then I ran home and made a sign for the back of the car that read "H2B ROCKS" H2B being the Harbor to the Bay Bike Ride. I drove 25 miles to pick up sandwich platters for the riders and cheered them on as I drove the 25 miles back. I stood in the torrential rain and hooted and hollered as they made their way to the finish line. I felt like I had hypothermia so I can't imagine how the bikers and swimmers felt. Then I had my photo taken with the head of the Classic Car Club while they handed me a check for $450. My hair was soaking wet. They want me to get the photo in the newspaper. That ought to be a pretty sight. Finally I went home and put on the most comfortable clothes I had. I slept from 9 last night until 9 this morning.

I want the color palette of my new home to feel very clean and beachy. Hence, the color I have chosen for my new towels. I'm wondering if this is my favorite color. If it is my favorite color, why is it so accessible? Could it be that I saw this color often in last year's decorating magazines and I just think it's my favorite color. Possibly, but I've always been a sea foam kind of gal.

Labor Day

Labor Day. What do those two words conjure in you? I'm thinking grilling out, salads, friends or family, adult beverages. Instead I'm picking up and creating wider paths so that the bank appraiser can come and assess the place and I can get the hell out of here. There isn't supposed to be labor on labor day, that's the whole point.

Friends of mine from NY bought a condo a little way down the street. That makes me sad to leave here though I still am only a couple of miles away. And I think they will visit me. It's just strange. Every single little thing is strange. If I move out of town will I lose touch with everyone? That's preposterous. I don't think my pharmaceuticals are working as well as they once did.

So I'm going shopping, though I shouldn't buy anything. Then I'm visiting friends from CT on the beach and maybe share dinner and blender drinks with them. Okay, my prospects are sounding better.

Four days later...

It's not that I'm losing my interest in writing this blog, it's that there's not much to report when you come home to the same carton-ridden environment and you begin to wonder if you will ever leave this place. This is a sorry-ass place to reside. Last night I had a friend to dinner. I bought groceries; I prepared pasta salad, spare ribs and grilled squash. There was something humanizing about it. It's the antithesis of living like this. I feel homeless. I don't think I have anything left to write about until I move.

After this, who knows? Maybe I'll do a little grocery shopping so that I start making dinner again. And knitting. I'm going to start knitting again. Knitting season is here, I feel it in the air. I can finish those socks I started last December. If I set my mind to it, they'll be done by the end of the week and I can give them away.

Hunger

I've been noticing lately that I seem to have an insatiable hunger. There may be a good reason for this. There are so many boxes impeding my path that I can't get to the refrigerator or stove. This is compounded by the fact that I haven't grocery shopped in over a month. The last two days I sustained myself on 13 oz. of macadamian nuts that a friend brought back from Orleans upon my request. The nuts are gone.

In an hour and a half I'm going to an annual pre-Labor Day party. Usually I wouldn't be interested in this because it's a large social gathering, but this year I'm grateful because I'm so hungry. The food is always spectacular and by this point in my life, these friends and their entourage are practically family.

Last night I had bad dreams. My mother used to say that I had the collie-wobbles, which in my mother's definition meant bad dreams brought on by something you ate. I revisited my menu and only came up with macademian nuts. I think that diet would have me dreaming the hula in Hawaii. Instead, I had a series of tortured dreams about the soon-to-be divorcee. In the first, my spouse is earning a degree in psychology (you have no idea how far a stretch this is) and has to write a thesis, which she does on the disintegration of our marriage. I ask if I can read it hoping it might illuminate things for me. She says no and I break down crying. In a rare moment of sympathy, she says she will share everything her mother has written to her about our relationship. That makes me cry more and I wake up. (Nothing Freudian there.)

I fall back to sleep. In the next dream, my spouse informs me that I have signed papers that ensure that I will provide her with health insurance for life. (I must be reading too much about single payer insurance). I, in an eloquent retort say, "Did not!" She says "o yes you did, remember that blue form you signed," at which point I'm getting a little crazy and say, Wait till my lawyer has her way with this! And I burst out crying again and wake myself up.

I was very tired and very hungry this morning. I wanted to say to my soon-to-be-divorced spouse, let's go out to breakfast like we always do on Sundays. I wanted to say, do you want me to make popovers? The photo at the top displays some of my culinary skills. I think they look enticing but there's little use for them at the moment.

I want to stop feeling hungry for everything.