Life with my OLC

Chortles? It's laughter combined with snorts and coughs and it makes communication completely impossible. I like chortles. They are, of course, unplanned and the resulting merrymaking can create lean-on-someone-to-hold-you-up-from-laughing-so-hard conditions. It can even create chortles in the listeners. Of course the best were in elementary school because, if they happened while someone was drinking milk from those little waxed containers, the laughter could make the milk spurt out the chortlers' noses. Ah the simple joys of youth. 

My latest chortle was caused by my sister Mary when she caught sight of a new purchase standing near my front door. She glanced at it, stopped dead in her tracks, turned to me and said in a slightly accusing tone, “OMG, tell me you did NOT buy an old lady cart? Not when you have moved into a retirement community.  Really???” 

I looked over at my new sparkling bright blue purchase (see below), went into that laugh/snort/cough combo chortle and, after I recovered, was able to answer, “Never thought of it quite that way, but, yep, I guess I did.”

A typical load in my beloved OLC

I love my old lady cart, or OLC as I now call it. I use it anytime I have more than a handful to carry from my car to my apartment. It is perfection. It quickly goes up the few stairs between the parking lot and the elevator, folds down to easily fit in my trunk, stands upright waiting to be unloaded in my unit - so what not to love? My only regret is that I did not buy one years earlier. All the lost opportunities!

Here it is filled with Wesley's things for a sleepover.

Tomorrow I leave for a month in California and I already see its many uses - carting lose stuff from my car into the houses of the many friends where I am staying; the same to my camp site at Yosemite; even better, carting bags of ice from the small camp store to the coolers in my bear lockers (and  now I can carry ice for other family campers as well) – I say it again, what NOT to love?!?!?  

Okay, yes, you see little old ladies walking down a street hauling their stuff in them, and yes, some of them are homeless, but I now see all of them as wise in their ways. For a mere $28 and access to Amazon you too can have a sturdy, washable OLC of your very own. What a deal. So, yes, I have an OLC and am quite proud of myself. You may want to try one. Believe me, once you try it, you'll never  go back to an OLC-free life. That's how great they are.  

Hmmmm, maybe this is a slight exaggeration.

I am YOUNG!!!

Never, in all my life, have I felt so young. Never have I received so many comments about my age - or lack of it to be more precise. When you are the youngest person in a community, younger by a decade than the average age of 75, it causes comments.

In the first days residents would ask which parent I was visiting. Or, when I asked to join people already seated in the dining room, they wanted to know which new position I had taken on staff. Or they would stop me, when walking down a hallway, to ask if they could direct me somewhere. When I was asked at the Wellness Center (the gym area) for a copy of my medicare card, the staff member visibly gulped when I told her I didn't yet qualify.

I quickly realized that this was a unique opportunity, that this would never happen again, so why not enjoy it? I loved answering, "Oh, no, I'm a new resident. I live in E Wing" and then watch their responses. It was priceless. First, always, a bit of confusion crossed their faces, then good manners surfaced and I would receive a warm welcome with some comment like, "Oh my goodness, you are just so young."

When I entered the dining room in those first weeks I could see messages being communicated among tables, "There she is." The funniest was when a man I didn't know stopped behind my chair, pointed down to me, and said aloud in a delighted tone, "Look how young she is." Whenever I met new people, they always wanted to know why I had chosen to move in when I was so young?

Generally people like it when you agree with decisions they have already made so my reasons for moving in at the YOUNG age of 64, pleased them. A few whispered to me, in asides, that they wished they had moved in earlier - they would have been better able to enjoy the amenities and activities. It made me think of my mother who moved to Canterbury Woods in Pacific Grove at age 80 - she enjoyed it but also recognized how limited her abilities to participate were.

Now that I have been here all of 3+ months they are more playful. One staff member recently called out, "Do you have a hall pass, young lady?" A resident asked, "Are you really old enough to have a library card?" They step aside to let me pass as they hear my more rapid steps approach behind them. "Go on, young'un," they will say as I pass by. And they take advantage of me. I am now asked to hand out programs at auditorium events. Or to jump up and get things when needed. But my favorite was when I realized I had been seated at "the kid's table" at a small community dinner. I was the one asked to get up and clear plates! So very funny. When, when, when will this every happen again?

As truly charming and welcoming as everyone has been (no, one exception - a really unpleasant rude woman I sat with at dinner - and quickly realized I was grateful she existed because otherwise I would suspect I lived in Brigadoon!) I have not met as many residents as I would like because I remain so busy. Most weekdays I am either with a grandson or volunteering in Portland. I rarely have lunch here and get home just a bit before dinner. It is, as I had suspected, the same life I had before, I am just sleeping in a different unit. But this time the neighbors are quiet and absolutely charming.

They all adore Wesley (as they should!). In reality, he has 400 additional grandparents. Most days I eat breakfast in my unit but on Fridays (after Wesley has spent the night) we go down to breakfast together.  After all,  says Wesley, "It's bacon and pancake day!" They all know he is coming and greet him when we walk in - residents and wait staff alike. His favorite table is right against one of the windows that look down on the Willamette River. It has become "our table." Last week he graduated from preschool (he enters pre-Kindergarten next year in the same school. To keep things straight, he graduated from their child care section last year - fine gradations here) and was awarded a "gold" medal on a ribbon to wear around his neck and a balloon. He insisted that he wear the medal and bring the balloon to breakfast the next morning. He wanted everyone to see and they responded perfectly - congratulating him quite seriously as he smiled proudly. When he brings a stuffed animal they ask how it is doing. When he fell face first on the dining room carpet they asked if he was okay (and then whispered to me that if any one of them had taken such a tumble, they would be down for the count!).

You know, I think I am going to be a bit annoyed when someone younger than me moves in.

Favorite bench where I sit and read at my new home

Gardening - Again

I thought gardening was over. Forty-one years ago I dug my first garden in the backyard of my husband's best man's mother's garden. Follow that? We moved to Connecticut right after our wedding and Mrs. Hinde was an incredibly generous woman who shared many things with me - her love of garage sales ("tag sales" in New England), redecorating (let's see - she lived in 4 different houses in the 16 years we lived in Connecticut - all charming historic homes that were much fun to explore) but most of all, gardening.  She had a large garden in her house in Westport (where Martha, THAT Martha, also has a house and garden) and rototilled a space twice as big as she needed so that I could "experience the joy of a vegetable garden."  I wasn't so sure about that "joy."

You see, my history with gardening was not good. I was raised in a typical 1950s household - we 3 girls did the inside work, our 2 brothers did the work outside . . .  except for one horrid weekend each spring. We sensed its approach when we were told to not make any plans for the weekend. UUUUUUURRRRGGGGHHHH. Saturday morning Mom would throw open our bedroom doors, flip on the lights and call out in a hideously cheerful voice, "Good morning!  Rise and Shine!" The drill sergeant was on the move and there was no escape.

By spring each year our garden was completely overgrown. The hedge between our house and the neighbor's was probably 15 feet high. Ivy had worked its way over fences and sheds, bushes had grown into each other and were each chock full of leaves fallen from overhanging trees. Weeds grew with abandon in the beds and in the gravel walkways around the garden. It was a mess.

Mom took the best job - she directed. She was so good at it that her nickname in college was "Butch."They had quickly caught on to her skill set. Two of us were sent to deal with the hedge (I still remember clambering up the fence to reach the tallest branches then bending them down so a sibling could hack 'em off). Others were set to weeding, removing sludge from the fish pond and pulling out ivy and rotting leaves. Mom attacked the bushes and fruit trees. She hacked, whacked and slaughtered. Around her grew piles of debris which we dragged off to toss into the back of a truck. It took all weekend and was absolutely hideous. It was at this time that I learned an important skill - work avoidance. I would sweetly volunteer to go into the house to make lemonade. It was a brilliant maneuver. I was left alone in the kitchen to wander SLOWLY about gathering pitcher, glasses, tray, etc. It was cans of frozen lemonade, mind you, but I could drag that process out for 45 minutes - minutes spent blissfully out of dirt, grime and thorns.

Ah, horrific memories.

So fast forward to Connecticut - a vegetable garden? By choice? Who knew that I would love it and from that year forward we always had one. I remember digging out the garden at our first little house on a lake in the Connecticut countryside - I couldn't believe how many rocks we removed from that space. Yes, glaciers had indeed passed over New England.





Here is Stephanie, maybe 3 years old, standing by that garden.






Below is the photo I call "Abbudanza" - the abundance of the onion crop at the end of the season.

When we moved back to California in 1987 gardening changed. Pacific Grove has a gentle climate - rarely hot, rarely cold - but not warm enough for a lot of veggies. Instead I grew herbs (until I noticed my dog Murphy peeing on them). And I grew flowers - masses of them. In beds and in window boxes that Lee and Gary built.  I loved it.

The back door

Back Yard

Side deck

Entry

After Gary died I moved to the house on Bentley Street and gardening changed once again. A corner lot, closer to the ocean's salt air, offers challenges. The back yard was tiny - I scattered little gardens around.

One corner of the back yard

The side deck had lots of sun (when sun chose to show itself in Pacific Grove) so that is where I concentrated pots of flowers.

The one thing I never grew were roses - Pacific Grove does not have the right weather. But not so Portland. Here they are everywhere. After all, we are the Rose City.

What to do? What to do? Is it time to have a rose garden or time to hang up my trowel? My community offers plenty of garden space. I can own a patch in which I can plant whatever I want or I can take over a patch in which roses already grow. Hmmmm.

My first thought was to pack it all in - I have done my bit for beautifying the earth - but then spring came and the scent of fresh turned dirt made me itch to get my hands in the soil.

So I set out to discover  what it takes to get a rose patch here in my new home. When I heard the level of commitment I had to laugh. These are rules:


1. You put in a request and are told which plots are available. You pick one.
2. They put a little plaque with your name on it so the world knows these are YOUR roses.
3. If you don't like the roses currently growing you can buy others and the staff gardeners will pull up your old ones, rototill and plant the new ones (THIS I liked!)
4. You weed and water.
5. All the roses are yours to pick - or share with others.
6. If you don't have a rose garden there are rows of plants that are "open cut" - help yourself (well, only three roses at a time, please).

What do do? What to do? While waffling a new friend mentioned that she was having trouble weeding. Her legs weren't quite strong enough. I like to weed (unless it is in clay then never mind) - it is mindless, there is immediate gratification, and it is lovely to sit in dirt while you smell plants around you. When I offered to weed her plot she told me to pick as many of her roses as I want. Perfection. I can now cut roses from her plants PLUS add 3 roses a day from the open cut. Glory be.

I then discovered that if you have a small unit and a small table you don't have a lot of space for large vases of roses - 3 - 5 are just about perfect.

Ah, life is sweet! It is good to have my hands back in the dirt. Next year I will get my own patch but for right now weeding and picking is just fine.

Costco and Me

What I remember most about my first visit to Costco way back when was the canoe for sale hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse. This, I realized, is not your typical grocery store. I also remember thinking I would not want to be inside if an earthquake hit. Interestingly enough, years later, I WAS shopping at our local Costco when a wee earthquake happened and am happy to report that all pallets stayed nicely in place.

Over the years I have filled many many carts - both the normal and pallet sizes - with Costco products and have been happy. In fact, I have grown to love Costco. Not quite like my older sister and my cousin who are passionate about it but quietly delighted that it is in my neighborhood. It is easy, on the most part inexpensive, and the Econ teacher in me is delighted with their corporate culture. You know they treat employees well by the fact that you get to know many of them by name - they don't leave.

I was pleased to discover that the local Costco here in Portland was even closer than the one in Pacific Grove - only about 3 miles away. I shop there probably once a month - the usual toilet paper, paper towels, garbage bags, cleaning products, whole chickens, cheese, frozen stuff, etc. I also found things for my duplex - my favorite being a storage unit for my upstairs attic room.

 Here it is in my new unit

I cantilevered that really heavy package from the cart into my car (first removing Wesley's child seat, then wedging the package so that the last little bit hung out the open window), dragged it from the car onto the front porch then into my living room, took the package apart and lugged the individual pieces up to the attic where I assembled it - along with 2 glasses of wine to get me through the process - and loved it.  Thank you, Costco.

I had lots of space in the basement so storage was no problem - I simply opened the basement door and tossed the large non-breakable stuff down where it all landed in a pile at the foot of the steep steps. On laundry day I would move it all to the basement's Costco corner.  Easy peasy.

But everything changed when I moved into my new 421-square foot studio. That wonderful Costco storage unit came with me but it soon became apparent that I no longer had space for all the other Costco stuff. Where do you put 30 rolls of toilet paper, 12 rolls of paper towels, 36 eggs, gallon-size jugs of detergent, 6 tubes of toothpaste, 4 frozen chickens???? Not in my small unit.

It was with shock that I recognized my Costco days are numbered. There just isn't room. But I also now know exactly how long Costco-sized products last. I know this because I know my arrival date (3 months and 10 day ago) and know that I opened many new packages the day I moved in. So, here goes - one large tube of toothpaste, when used by one person, lasts 3 months. I am 3/4 of the way through the original paper towel roll I unwrapped the day I moved in (shows how little cooking I am doing), just started a new deoderant (and yes, I do use it everyday, thank you very much!), and, based on my new projected use of dryer sheets, my large double package will last 5 years!

I also realize how much more space I will have when I finally use up all my Costco multiples - I think I still have 8 sticks of deoderant, 4 large tubes of toothpaste, many quart size containers of laundry detergent (the original size packages would not fit into my shelves so I poured them into empty plastic containers), lots of dental floss, 10 bars of soap, 6 boxes of kleenex, and so on.

But no Costco?  It is almost unthinkable and yet I just can't store the stuff. But oh my goodness. No Costco?  Really? I called last week and found out that my membership cycle stops at the end of this month. I told them to not renew. I now have 21 days left. 21 days. I may go hang out and walk the aisles, remembering. Ah yes, that wonderful cheese (in a 3 pound package that would now fill my small refrigerator), the 36-can package of Diet Coke (where would I store all those cans?), the large box of crackers that Wesley loves (really? In my small cabinets?). Ah, the reality of my new living space. This is going to be a bit traumatic.

Oh wait . . .  I just remembered. Stephanie has a Costco card! I know she will let me come along and add things to her cart. Of course she will. I won't have to go cold turkey after all. When so much is changing it is good that at least one thing can change a bit more slowly. Phew!

Breathing Space

It is over and I can't believe it. What, you may ask? May, of course. What a month. Stephanie returned to work and I stepped in to care for wee Finn - and adored every single second. I also had visitors (enjoyed each one), figured out Medicare choices (what a lot of information to slog through but the clock is ticking on my quickly approaching 65th birthday), continued to adjust to my new life at the retirement community and found time to celebrate spring in Portland. So many distractions and all were enticing.

First and foremost - the grandsons, the perfect grandsons:

Wesley appears to adore his baby brother. I watch Stephanie and Dan adjust to a second child and am amazed at the grace and patience they exhibit as they respond to the circus whirling around them. Oh I remember but do not think I did as well as they do.

Today was a BIG day, a milestone - Finn's first day at childcare. He will go with Wesley two days a week; the other three he remains with me. Wesley led Stephanie (with Finn in arms) into the infant room at childcare and then he stayed for circle time with Finn. I do not know what infants do in circle time but Wesley enjoyed himself regardless. When I picked Wesley up this afternoon he told me that he went over to check on Finn before he himself took his nap. He wanted to make sure everything was going well. It was.

Yesterday Stephanie and Dan invited me along for a picnic at a park prior to Wesley's 30-minute soccer class. I drove Wesley over while Finn rode with Steph and Dan. As Wesley climbed into my car he turned back and called out, "See you at the park, Finn!" I am enjoying my role as witness to family evolution.

Wesley and I still manage to have time together. It is no longer 2 hours a day (after preschool), 5 days a week. It is, instead, the two afternoons I am not babysitting Finn. I bring him back to my apartment and we find lots to do. Today we went to the art studio to make presents for some family members - but, ssshhhh, I can't tell more. Then back to my apartment for a snack and some book reading. Lovely lovely lovely. We manage to have a weekly sleepover as well. Sleeping with an almost 4-year old is an experience, however. He wants to sleep in my bed and it would be fine except - well just look:

I push his sleepy body away a bit, slide in beside him and then, in minutes, he is back hogging the space. It is AMAZING how a little body can control so much of a double bed! I never sleep well but it is worth every sleepless second to have him with me.

I have really missed writing these entries so get ready - they are going to start pouring out. Lots to share.

Love you all.

421 Square Feet

Yes, I know - I said I would write more frequently but, oh my goodness, I have been busy, delightfully busy. The best 2 hours of each day are spent rocking Finn while chatting with Stephanie or giving her time to take a nap or catch up on tasks. Thankfully Finn is sleepy between 1 - 3 p.m. and I am RIGHT THERE to take him, warm and soft, into my arms. Yes, we occasionally discuss world events (he has not yet, however, expressed opinions) but most of the time I sing softly while I rock - and am in heaven. Absolute heaven.

And, yes, I am adjusting to life at my new place. It has been an easier adjustment than I thought. The biggest blessing is my wee unit that I simply love. So here it is - life in 421 square feet. I know, impossible you might say, but look at how very efficient and complete it is.

Oh - background - I bought it furnished. 2 residents here designed the room (it was just an empty square), a team of workers on staff built it, then the 2 residents furnished it. I brought 4 pieces of furniture (and one rug) to replace things they had provided, otherwise it is as I first saw it. It still took 4 carloads of stuff to bring all my clothes, kitchen stuff, books, art, etc. but I certainly had an easier move-in than most residents.

This is the view into the bedroom portion of the unit. The bed is a Murphy bed surrounded by bookshelves.

The bookshelf to the right has a pull-out shelf for my laptop. The cabinets above and below hold my office stuff and files. The bookcase to the left has all the books I haven't yet read. The only good thing I can say is that it contains less than half the books I hadn't read that I brought with me to Portland 18 months ago. Note Wesley's heart (Valentine's Day) and rocket (Christmas) that moved from my old kitchen window to my new unit's window.

Here is a close-up of the desk area.  Wesley and I greet the first day of each new month by selecting a set of my lights to hang around my bookcase - can you see them?  This month Wesley thought the yellow chili pepper lights were appropriate. Easter? Spring? Who knows.  They work for him.

At first I wasn't sure how the tiny desk would function given that I need space to lay out materials, etc.  Then I noted the bed right next to me - a perfect surface.

This is why I love the Murphy bed (which is very comfortable. I sleep well).  When I put it up I have LOTS of room to play with Wesley. We roll up the rug and can make a very large railroad display with room for his little airport, gas station, repair facility (and all the other places we create out of blocks, boxes etc). He can run the train long distances over this open space.  My favorite comment of his when he first walked in and saw the bed up, "Gramma, you have a big refrigerator!"

This is the view from the bedroom area - I brought the storage unit to the left (from Costco - who knew, when I bought it a year ago, it would fit so perfectly into this space and hold all my sewing stuff, art supplies and Wesley's toys), the rug and the coffee table (an English cobbler's bench from my grandmother).  My TV is in the dark space in the bookshelf.  The little table under the window is very clever - it has 2 leaves that pull out to the front and back. It worked really well for a sewing project I undertook soon after arriving. It looks out to the Willamette River and it is where I eat breakfast every morning.

The little sofa is also clever - the 2 residents who designed the unit chose well. It is a futon. I drop one side when I want to stretch out to watch TV. If I drop both sides it is a single bed for sleepovers with Wesley (and Finn in the future).

Here is my tiny kitchen. At first I was concerned about the small size of the refrigerator (think college dorm) but I rarely eat any meal here other than breakfast and it is more than adequate to hold milk for my cereal! The cupboards provide enough storage for the kitchen things I brought but I now wonder how often I will actually use them. Oops! I just realized one of the cupboards for storing canned food is slightly open in the photo. At first I was dismayed with this style of shelf - I am used to broad open spaces for cupboards and these slide out with narrow shelves on which you place canned goods, etc. However I now really like them - I can see and reach everything easily.

You can see the back of my grandmother's high chair which I also brought with me.

Here is the shelf opposite the kitchen where I store dishes, etc.  It functions well.

And, finally, this is the last portion of the unit - the closet (very deep - it shares space with  the bathroom and drawers/shelves in the bedroom. I could not photograph the bathroom with any success - but the usual tub, toilet, sink and storage cabinets). I brought the cabinet next to the closet with me - I bought it in China and dearly love it.  So glad it fit in.

So that's it - 421 well-designed square feet. What I like about the living room area is that I can easily move the shelf with kitchen stuff and the futon if I want more space.  All very functional. Amazingly I have some empty shelves and drawers still available for the growth of stuff - and we know how that happens. But, for the moment, I am more than content.

Perfect Grandson #2 Finn!!!

I know, I know, I know . . . it is almost 2 months since I have written but all I can offer for an excuse is that I have fallen into bed, completely exhausted, almost every night since that last entry.  Yep, lousy excuse but a few things have been happening in my life.

Let's see:

1. A precious new grandson entered the world on January 28.
2. Sorting and packing all my belongings
3. Moving myself into the nearby retirement community
4. Holding an estate sale to get rid of all excess stuff
5. Sorting and unpacking everything away into my new tiny place

And, guess what, although it has all been exhausting it has also been exhilarating.  So let's start with the most thrilling of all - my new grandson.

Finn 

Look at him - is he not perfect? Look how his sweet little head fits right on my shoulder. I don't know of anything more wonderful than the soft head of a newborn snuggled into that space between your cheek and shoulder. It makes me weak at the knees just to think about it. Finn is 100% cuddly. I love holding him, smelling him, watching him breathe in and out. He is, as are all newborns, quite simply a miracle dropped into our lives.

He was due February 1 but came 4 days early, on Jan 28. His arrival matched the information in a fortune cookie I received at a Chinese restaurant in California on November 28th - the day I flew back to Oregon. It said, "Remember this date. Two months from today something wonderful will happen."  And what can be more wonderful than a new baby? I had no idea, however, of the power of writers in fortune-cookie factories!

I spent the days while Stephanie, Dan and Finn were in the hospital going back and forth between visiting Finn and taking care of Wesley - and loved every second. Thus far, Wesley has seemed enchanted with Finn. We all hold our breath a bit to see when reality hits that someone has usurped his position as the only child. My favorite Wesley behavior? When Wesley sits next to Finn who is rocking in his infant swing and "reads" a book to his baby brother.

Stephanie is now home for three months on maternity leave. I adjusted the date of my move to the retirement community to two weeks after Finn's birth to make it easier on the family but still regret time lost from holding Finn for something as prosaic as moving boxes. Next week I will be back to my usual schedule and plan to have serious Finn-holding time every day, if at all possible. Luckily, Stephanie, Dan and Wesley are good about sharing Finn with me.

So I am a most delighted grandmother and feel quite blessed.

Thank you everyone who has written asking if everything is okay because I have been incommunicado for the past 2 months. I was too tired to even write back! However, I promise the dry spell is over and I look forward to filling you in on all the other changes in my life. Entries will start flowing once again.

Impetuous Decision #4

I suspect that friends and family believe that I have a tendency to make impetuous decisions - so quickly, they suggest, that I may not have given myself sufficient time to clearly and rationally think through each. Let's review:

#1 In 2002, after Gary died, I assured family and friends that I would be a responsible widow who would not make major decisions for a year. Six weeks later I bought the house Gary and I had wanted to buy in 1987.

#2  In May of 2004 I felt I needed a change. Two weeks later I submitted my retirement notice and left teaching, 10 years early, at age 55. I began my 10-year exploration to use time differently - and what a ride it has been.

#3  In July of 2011 I realized that I was missing out on my only grandchild's early years, something that could never be retrieved. Four weeks later the moving van arrived at my house in Pacific Grove to move my belongings to Portland.

#4  Well,  a little background first:
Last month I recognized that, once again, I need to move. The neighbors can be noisy (although little kid noise is far better than loud music or TV) and the heating system stinks. 3 rooms have electric heaters in inconvenient places. You only get warm if you stand directly in front of each. The gas insert in the living room fireplace works beautifully but only heats that one room. I am not willing to live through another winter in this house - I am just too cold in most of the rooms and am paying way too much for what little heat actually reaches me.

Okay, so I must move but what a depressing thought. My last move was just 16 months ago and the related challenges are way too clear in my memory. That got me thinking about all my future moves. It seems like I will have 3: #1 in early 2013 to another place here in Portland, #2 in 2018 or 2019 back to Pacific Grove and #3 in 2024 or so to a long-term retirement community. I have always known I would eventually move to such a place so that my children would not bear any responsibility for me. I watched my grandmother, mother and mother-in-law make similar choices and be quite happy in their chosen environments in Portola Valley, Pacific Grove and Los Gatos. I feel quite content with that ultimate plan.

Here is where the impetuous decision comes in. I recognize that Portland is quickly becoming home. I know, I know, I know - everyone told me this would happen as I kept insisting I would move back to Pacific Grove - but now I know I won't. I can't leave the grandchildren (#2 is due in a few weeks) or my daughter and son-in-law. I am having too much fun interacting with all of them. My two-hour play time with Wesley each school day is heaven, I love that I can babysit whenever needed, I enjoy the serendipity of getting together for unexpected events - I truly love my life here. So there goes move #2, I am staying in Portland.

Now, what about move #3? I researched all 6 long-term retirement communities here in Portland (while also updating myself on 5 in California - giving myself options). I thought I would still follow the same plan and move into one in 10 years. Instead I fell in love with one and am moving in at the end of February. There it is - Impetuous Decision #4 - at the age of 64 I am moving into a long-term retirement community. But that is not enough of an impetuous move - get ready, it gets even better/worse/crazier/insane/are-you-out-of-your-mind. I fell in love with a tiny unit. It's only 421 square feet. And it is mostly furnished with lots of built-in storage. It is, actually, brilliantly furnished. I looked around the unit (easy to do - you just turn in a circle and see the living room/kitchen and into the bedroom area) and realized that this is what I want. Simplicity and ease. I will bring my favorite art, books, decorations, basic kitchen gear, clothing - and nothing else. Well, that's not completely true. My grandmother's antique cobbler's bench will replace the coffee table already in place and there is room for the cabinet I bought in China - oh and the family high chair. But that's it.

Okay, now THAT is impetuous, yes? I think it beats the other 3. I think it beats the other 3 combined. And here is the amazing thing - I can't wait. I simply can't wait. I am already sorting stuff to decide what goes and what stays; talking with family members on how to distribute family heirlooms that they may want, and figuring out what will actually fit in the new unit. I have a lot to do in the next 6 weeks.

You know what I keep thinking about? What is in the small attic in my house in Pacific Grove? It is stuffed full with things that didn't make the cut to come to Portland. I know there are 35 boxes of books but don't know what else is in there beyond a desk, Stephanie's doll house and a broken chair that belongs to a set - I have the other 3 up here. It will be interesting to eventually go through all that stuff.

And speaking of the attic, what about my absolutely darling Pacific Grove house? I don't have to sell it. My unit at the retirement community is so small (and, therefore, inexpensive) that I can easily afford it without selling my house. Their monthly fee is only a few hundred dollars more than what I currently spend on rent, utilities and food. So if I have made a horrible decision my wonderful house on Bentley Street awaits me.

Looking backward and forward - the first 3 impetuous decisions ended up being really good for me and I suspect the 4th will be just as wonderful.

So all of you who have gotten this far in the entry and whose insides tightened when you realized what I have decided to do, go ahead, relax. It's going to be okay. I am not out of my mind but instead following a path I didn't expect to follow quite so soon. I will have lots more to tell when I move in.

Yep, bet you didn't expect this?!?!


A week later . . .  Since making the decision I have had to answer a lot of questions from people with whom I shared it. To save time, let me tell you what I told them:

#1 How can you choose to live with people who are almost all older than you, and older by quite a bit?

Doesn't bother me at all. I have always liked old people (notice how I don't see myself at age 64 as old!). I loved spending time with my grandmother at The Sequoias in Portola Valley when I was in high school. I liked her friends. Same with my mother's friends at Canterbury Woods in Pacific Grove. I realize, now that I stop to think about it, that much of the volunteer work I have done over my lifetime has been with older folks. Age is immaterial. Every phase of life has blessings and challenges. No, I do not intend to engage in chit chat about latest surgeries but most older folks I chat with don't talk about that anyway. I have had 3 meals at the community where I plan to live and have enjoyed each of them - my dining partners were delightful. What I realized is that I share more in common with them (education, travel, interesting careers) than I do with the average person in the general population here in Portland (or Pacific Grove or wherever).

#2  Won't you miss the multi-generational neighborhood where you now live?

Not really. I am surrounded by wee ones at Wesley's preschool. They call me Gramma Donna (I am no longer Mustard or Hot Dog or Milk Shake, as mentioned in an earlier entry). I am getting to know Stephanie and Dan's neighbors as well, most of whom are young families. My current volunteer work (and time on the bus) brings me in contact with all generations.

#3 What if Stephanie and Dan decide to move?

This was a major concern. I hope I have been very clear with Stephanie and Dan that my decision affects them not at all. It is my choice to stay in Portland. They are free to move whenever or wherever they want. This is my life; they have theirs. If they move I will do what I did before - fly frequently to visit. I like Portland enough that I am satisfied to stay here. Remember, I also have  beloved family - a sister and sister-in-law (and their spouses) nearby as well.

#4 You won't be needed as much in the future as the grandchildren become more involved in their own lives.

I am sure this will be true but I hope I can always be there after school before Stephanie and Dan are home from work. I like spending a few hours with wee ones each afternoon. It's the perfect amount of time - not too short, not too long.

#5  How can you leave Pacific Grove - one of the most beautiful places on earth?

Yes, that makes my heart ache a bit. Thankfully the people I love in PG have been generous with their guest rooms which I intend to keep using. I plan to be in California several times a year and travel will become even easier as the wee ones age. Right now I plan to spend much of the newest grandbaby's first year with him but, after that, I intend to be back on a travel schedule. However, I must admit, I want future travel to be visits with friends. Exotic travel may be over. I have traveled a LOT in the past 8 years - the fact that I had to send my passport back to get more pages added illustrates just how much of the world I have seen. The thought of meeting up with friends, wine in hand, sounds much more attractive. So, East Coast friends, Jerie and John somewhere in Latin America, Sabine in France, Japanese exchange students, Barbara in Kazakhstan, Annette in Slovakia and, always, friends in California - here I come. And now all I will have to do is close my door, tell them to hold my mail, and I am off.

#6  Your life will change in so many ways that you don't foresee - how will you cope?

I find this one of the oddest questions. Okay, I can think of 2 negative changes. My car will now be about 100 feet from my door rather than 5 and I will be about 6 stops further south on my bus line - it will now take 20 minutes to get into downtown Portland rather than the current 12. All the other changes seem positive: I will never again be on my knees cleaning a bathroom or kitchen floor. No more gardening (unless I choose to tackle a veggie or rose garden on site). No more cooking unless I feel like it in my small kitchen. No more going down dark steep steps to do laundry in the basement. No more stopping at the Post Office to get stamps or mail packages - it's all handled at the front desk. No more driving several miles in the early morning to get to a 6 a.m. water aerobics class - I have a great pool and gym on the premises and the class starts at 8. So much better.

I suspect the only significant change is that I will wake up in a different room. I will still volunteer at the emergency services place and at the library, will still pick Wesley up every afternoon from preschool and bring him home to play (or spend the night), will still swim, will still read in front of the fire (but now it will be in their charming library), will still explore Portland, and will still participate in family events. What I will not do is eat my meals alone, sitting at my kitchen table looking out at squirrels cavorting along a fence. As much as I enjoyed that, I look forward to chatting with new friends while I eat at tables that offer a sweeping view of the Willamette River.

#7 What will it feel like to be with people using walkers and wheelchairs?

This one makes me laugh! The development of Gary's MS meant that he used a walker at 38 and was in a wheelchair in his early 40s. No one knows better than I that disabilities do not define people. Bring 'em on; they are wonderful technologies that help folks maintain independence. Kind of the same way I think about elevators - nice to have when I don't feel like walking up 6 flights.

#8  Why not wait 10 years and move to a retirement community then?

Yes, I could do that but that would mean I would have to go find a small house to rent (no more duplexes or apartments with the potential of loud neighbors) and then deal with utilities, garden, garbage, cooking, cleaning, basement laundry appliances, potentially icy walkways in winter, dark early morning drives to the swimming pool, etc. Now that I recognize the freedoms associated with living in this retirement community, the thought of being responsible for it all over again sounds fatiguing. I want liberation.

#9  What if you hate it?

That is the best thing about the cost of this decision. I don't have to sell my house in California to buy into the place so, if I hate it, I can find a place to rent here in Portland or move back to Pacific Grove. If I change my mind within the first 5 years I get a percent back of the entry fee (80% the first year, 60% the second year and so on) and the monthly fee that covers rent, utilities and food is insignificant - just a bit more than what I currently pay.  So, economically, it is not a terribly significant decision.

So, again, if your insides tightened when you read this, it IS okay - and I really appreciate that people's questions are based on concern. And given that it takes a village to dress me  (I always seem to have something hanging out that should be tucked somewhere else), I also appreciate that the questions have given me the opportunity to stop and reexamine my own beliefs.

Again, much more in future entries as I enter this next phase of my life.

Christmas 2012

Merry Christmas! I am looking out my attic window onto the street below - no rain or snow. Yes, here in Portland it is clear  - and cold, very cold. Last week's snow was perfection - beautiful to watch floating down, didn't stick to the road (to the car, yes, but not the driveway) and was soon gone. My kind of snow. I am thoroughly enjoying Christmas with a 3-year old. Wesley is enchanted with everything and adds his own spin to things.

Window decorations
Right before Thanksgiving Wesley and I traced our hands and turned them into colored-paper turkeys which we taped to the kitchen windows. He had done them at home (Stephanie was much more creative - she added legs and beaks in different colors - the Martha Stewart of turkey production!) and wanted to do them at my house as well. Last week I suggested we replace the turkeys with snow flakes. He was delighted. He is quite good with scissors (well, for a 3-year old) and we cut and snipped away. He taped all our creations to the window adjacent to the turkeys which he insisted must stay as well. We have, therefore, quite a seasonal display.

But then he asked to add something special. I wondered which Christmas addition - Santa? Stars? Trees? No, he wanted to add rocket ships. Of course. I drew a primitive one and then he told me who to put in the windows as passengers - Daddy, Mommy, Greg (visiting right now), Gramma, Grampa Tom (Dan's father), Wesley and in little windows above and below him, Matilda (his dog) and Divet and Newton (his cats). I was happy to oblige.

 So, if you are driving down SE 21st Avenue, look for the kitchen window with snowflakes, turkeys AND rocket ships.

Advent Calendar
I gave the Advent Calendar Christmas Tree I made when the children were young to Stephanie so Wesley happily adds a decoration to it each day. At my house I have a Noah's Ark Advent Calendar that Wesley played with last year. To him it was just a toy - I didn't try to use it to mark the march of days toward Christmas. This year, when I pulled it out, I wondered if he would remember it (nope, to him it was brand new) and if he would want to use it as a calendar. Again, nope - it was an interesting toy with lots of possibilities, none of which included a calendar.

Here it is as a possible calendar - one animal added for each day.

I told him the basic outline of Noah and the Ark. He liked the part about the animals marching on board two-by-two. He asked me to make a sign for the ark - can you read it?

It says Must have buddy to get on Ark

And so the play began. He would hide an animal (so that the buddy couldn't go on board), find it, put it in another "boat" (the basket that holds the TV remotes) and sail it over to the ark where the buddies were reunited.  They could then go on board together.

Can you see the "boat" on the floor to the right? The monkey, lion and dove are inside the basket waiting to be reunited with their buddies on the Ark's deck.

Later he decided that having a buddy wasn't enough. The animals must have tickets as well (this from a child who has already flown umpteen times so knows his boarding passes). We attached stickers to all the animals.

Yep, they are legitimate passengers - their stickers show they have the proper credentials. The elephant has a fairy, the lion a snake and the hippo a blue ribbon. Of course.

Then, love of scatology reared its head. What is happening in the photos below?  The animals are peeing off the side of the ark, of course. I blame Lee. Wesley is fascinated by the bathroom system on Lee and Michelle's sailboat - a bucket for those who wish it or, the more direct approach, peeing overboard. Wesley can't wait to be old enough to pee over the side but enjoys using the bucket in the meantime. Noah's animals have already advanced to the "over-the-edge" method.  Note that animals go all around the ark.

 Close up of one side, buddies hanging off the side.

This is an equal opportunity Ark - both sides can be used at once when peeing overboard.

Nativity Scene
The one I have is tiny - it was all we could afford when we were young parents and, of course, now I wouldn't think of changing it because of all the memories associated with it. I am a history teacher and I liked to place the nativity in an historic setting so I started Mary, Joseph and the donkey across the room and each day Stephanie and Lee would move them a bit forward until, on Dec 24th, they made it to the manger.  I started the kings several rooms away - after all, they came from much farther away.

I showed the set to Wesley and started to go over the basic story. Before I got much beyond "They were on their way to Bethleham" Wesley picked up Mary, Joseph and the donkey and deposited them inside the tea pot in the bookshelf. "They have to go to jail first," he said, "Then they can go back on the road." There they stayed for several days. In fact, when I went to move them back to the stable this morning I realized that Joseph has gone missing. I checked the neighboring "jail", the coffee pot, but it was empty as well.

When he is over next we will have to review other possible options for Joseph's location. For the time being the shepherd is sitting in for Joseph. I moved the kings into the photo - they are still in the kitchen, slowly working their way toward Bethleham, but wanted them to have their 5 minutes of fame in the photo.

Each figure is 1- 2 inches tall. 

Cookies
Wesley and I made a set of cookies and had the usual experience -  more frosting on his face and hands than made it onto the cookies. Much fun. I am missing Stephanie's girl friends from Carmel High. For years they came over today (Christmas Eve) to decorate cookies. As they grew older I loved listening to their chatter as they caught up with each other's lives while creating interesting frosting colors for cookies that became more sophisticated in their design. They had favorite cookie cutters and brought more to add to my collection. What good memories.

So Christmas 2012 is almost here and I am thinking of all of you - family and friends. I wish you all the happiest and most joyous of days tomorrow and right through the New Year into 2013.

December - What a Month!

So much to do, so little time - no, no longer true. My life in Oregon is so tiny compared to the life I led in Pacific Grove that I can no longer use that excuse. Not ever again. Not for anything. I now have plenty of time and love every non-busy second of it.

Right this minute my laptop is somewhat precariously balanced on my lap, my feet are propped on the coffee table, the gas fireplace is on, Christmas music is playing, the tree is lit and Wesley has added other decorations around the room in his own inimitable style. What more could I ask? 

I do love this time of year. The shortness of the days adds to their mystery. It's now almost dark by 4:30 and the air is quite crisp (and, often damp - who knew?)  Last night Stephanie, Dan and I took Wesley to watch the Christmas Express train in all its steaming glory set out on its once-per-hour trip around the surrounding neighborhoods, its decorated cars filled with excited children and parents. The 3 of them rode it this afternoon - much more to see in daylight, of course - but oh, it was magical to watch it depart, steam shooting up in the air in the darkness of last evening. Wesley was thrilled.

Thanksgiving was lovely - we gathered at Pattie's house in Novato. I, however, was the guest that no one wants at their table. What I thought was non-contagious food poisoning that I suffered through on the day before Thanksgiving ended up being quite contagious - I passed it on to many at the  celebration. Lovely. I hope that my role as Typhoid Mary will be forgotten when Thanksgiving rolls around next year.  

What was interesting was the very small article I spotted in The Oregonian the week after I returned. It stated that 3 schools in Oakland were closed because of a highly contagious intestinal sickness rapidly working its way through the schools. The description of the symptoms was exactly what I had experienced and - guess what? I had dinner with Lee in Oakland the evening I arrived in California. Ah, that is where I must have picked it up - or, dread thought, did I bring it down and end up infecting the whole school system? No, impossible . . . . yes?

I also spent a few days in Pacific Grove - it was lovely to visit with friends.  My house, rented to others, seems to be fine and, most importantly, survived a huge storm the evening I left (hmmm - is this a coincidence? Both disease and pestilence follow me.).

But now I am home enjoying the end-of-autum-almost-winter season. The first unusual activity was the marathon reading of Homer's The Iliad at the Portland Art Museum. It was in conjunction with it's latest exhibit, The Body Beautiful, a joint-effort with the British Museum that focuses on the Greek ideal of beauty. Lots of Greek pots and sculpture including The Discus Thrower. Magnificent exhibit and this particular event was lots of fun. 300+ volunteer readers read non-stop for 10 hours. I was reader #64. I was given a great section to read  - meaning no hard names to pronounce and it was somewhat exciting - a description of 2 rivals putting on their armor and then facing each other, enraged, spears raised. We were urged to read our 2-minute segments in another language if we wished (I wondered if pig latin would work? "Ehthay aisedray eirthay earspay . . ."). Most read in English but during the 3 hours that I stayed to listen several spoke in Greek, Latin, Russian, French, and Spanish. My favorites were the children who read. We received our sections a week early so clearly the students had practiced and each read perfectly. The girl pictured below (standing on a box) was probably 9 years old. An interesting way to spend a Sunday morning. While listening, I thought a lot about my husband who loved teaching The Iliad.

While we read, our section was projected on the screen behind so that all in the 
audience could follow along.

Yesterday afternoon I attended the 22nd Annual Tuba Christmas in downtown Portland. 283 musicians with a wide variety of tubas performed Christmas carols for 90 minutes. These included all the traditional ones and some quite untraditional - who knew Doe a Deer belonged in a Christmas program? Or the fight songs for both the University of Oregon (Go Ducks!) and Oregon State (Go Beavers!)?  

One section of the audience - it wound around half of the plaza. I sat near the front on cold brick steps.  Note to self - next time bring a padded seat cushion!

While waiting for the performance to start a group on a scavenger hunt needed people to play foosball on the plaza so they could take a video of it. About a dozen people volunteered and played for a few minutes while the crowd cheered them on.

The tuba player in the Santa outfit won best costume (and decorated tuba - although you can hardly see it. I know, I know -  horrid photographer!)

The only folks who were protected from the weather were the tuba players - and of course you can't see them in the tent.  Look at the very back - can you see the sousaphones?  Look closely, way back. They are behind the other 200+ tuba players.

It was amazing to hear only tubas play music - some of the songs were magical, some haunting, and some, I must admit, were almost unrecognizable (when the conductor asked us to sing along with Away in A Manger I thought, "THAT was what they were playing?") But the 2000 people gathered in Pioneer Square in the light misty rain (and not a single umbrella - I looked far and wide - lots of hoodies and caps, however, oh those Oregonians!) had a good time singing along. 

I am busy at my two volunteer jobs. It's not a good time for those who are unemployed so we are giving out lots of food boxes at the emergency service place where I answer the telephone. At the other end of the spectrum, the library gift store is hopping with lots of Christmas goodies added to the usual assortment of used books and related cards, notebooks, calendars etc. for sale. Much fun in that all visitors seem to be in a good mood, especially when they spot the perfect little something for someone on their Christmas list.

So all is well here and I hope you are all enjoying this lovely season. It only comes once a year, you know, so go grab a cup of eggnog and celebrate every second of this joyous time with friends and family.

Much love to you all and Merry Christmas!