Where I Am

Days are flying by, filled with plotting and planning for the big move ahead. I wake with a flurry of thoughts - furniture placement, colors for walls and drapes and bedding and towels. My imagination wonders where my favorite places will be in this new house, where I will hunker down to read, to write. Where I will spin in happy circles when life is particularly good, where I might curl up to shed those inevitable tears. Meantime, the regular everyday things continue to call. Puppy dog walks, trips to the grocery store, clothes that need washing, floors that need mopping. But all come with an extra edge of excitement, for the promise of change is in the wind.

And I am enjoying the breeze.

Getting Reacquainted with an “Old Friend"

Back in the mid 1980’s when I was deep in the throes of motherhood, I looked forward to reading Anna Quindlen’s wonderful column “Life in the Thirties.” It was syndicated in our Detroit Free Press, back in the day when my morning newspaper was just as much life’s blood as my morning coffee. Anna seemed to get me in ways that none of my real friends did - she knew about that tug to create, that urge to lose yourself in books and words, and how it was sometimes difficult to maintain the balance between caring for the ones you loved and caring for yourself. This summer I’m happy to have gotten re-acquainted with the Anna I once knew via her new book Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. I’m over at All Things Girl talking about it.

Grab a cup of coffee and join in the conversation - Anna and I would love to have you.

From the Notebook...

...of Life in General and My Own in Particular:

• I’ve been getting my life back in order after finishing the musical over the weekend. There is always something of a let-down when a show comes to a close. All the preparation and rehearsals and excitement are over, and there’s nothing left but the clean up. Sort of like Christmas, actually. So I’ve been metaphorically shaking off the musical theater robes and putting my everyday clothes back on.
• We are “clear to close” on our new house (this Thursday!) according to our mortgage underwriter, this word coming today after another flurry of paperwork over the weekend including what amounted to us writing an “essay” about why we were purchasing another home before we put our current home on the market. Yes, really.
• As is often the way with Life in General and My Own in Particular, coming close on the heels of that good news was a somewhat frantic call from my stepmother who tells it would be a good idea for me to come and see my Dad sooner rather than later. Apparently the chemo treatments have delayed the progression of his cancer, but in the process they have affected his mental capacity (which until now had been perfectly fine). So they have stopped the chemo in hopes that this process may reverse itself to some degree. But the doctors have advised her that family members would be wise to come asap.
• This call followed by one from the daughter of my neighbor from across the street who moved out of state a couple of years back, another elderly gentleman who I looked upon as one of my “extra fathers” - I was lucky enough to have several of those at one time in my young adulthood. Seems he is not doing well either, and is in rehab after a week in ICU suffering with severely bleeding ulcers. I called him right away, and was happy to hear his fighting spirit was still intact. “Don’t you worry, doll,” he said. “I won’t be stayin’ in this place very long, I can promise you that!” I hope he’s right.
• I finished the last of several marvelous historical novels that have comprised my reading for the month of July. The Baker’s Daughter, by Sarah McCoy, joins The Sandcastle Girls, The Chaperone, and The Shoemaker’s Wife, as being what I consider the best books I’ve read all year.  Add to those historical novels The Book Lover and Lots of Candles Plenty of Cake, and my July 2012 Bookstack gets top honors.
• After a wonderful (real live!) chat (on the telephone!) with one of my favorite writer/blogger friends, I’ve been rethinking my entire blogging life and have decided to make some big changes, about which I’m very eager and excited.
• As we turn the calendar page to August (imagine!) I find myself in an anticipatory mood despite some rather concerning news. Nothing can dampen my spirits about our new house, and with each passing day I feel more certain that this is very much the best move for us. Let’s hope time proves me right!

How about you? What’s going in your life in particular?

Going Downtown

Just got back from a round of Monday morning errands with my mom. We went grocery shopping.

Then we got back in the car and drove a mile down the road to Walgreen’s.

Then we got back in the car and drove two miles to the fruit market.

Then we got back in the car and drove three miles to the bank.

Then we got back in the car and drove to Panera for lunch.

“Gee, wouldn’t it be nice,” I mused, “if they would cluster all these important kinds of commercial places in one square mile so that you could park in a central location and walk to everything you needed?"

My mother laughed. “It’s called a Downtown,” she said sarcastically. “It’s how things used to be, and it sure made life a lot easier."

Ah, how things used to be. It’s a phrase I find myself trotting out more and more often these days.

“Look at the way that girl is dressed,” I’ll say. “It used to be that a girl would never be allowed out of the house looking like that."

Or, “I used to pay less than a dollar for this tuna fish and now the same can costs $1.98!"

And “It used to be that I could drink coffee or tea anytime and I wanted and it wouldn’t bother me a bit."

Humph.

Seriously, though, some things were better in the "old days." Take the concept of a downtown. We’re always hearing about conserving energy, but look at all the traveling we have to do just taking care of basics. Does it matter if there’s a bank, gas station, drugstore, and restaurant on every corner when the corners are so far apart you have to drive to them to get there?

I don’t remember much about the days when my parents lived within walking distance of “downtown.” But I suspect that’s why my mother never learned to drive. Between her two legs and the public transportation system, she didn’t need to drive in order to get everything done.

I do recall the first indoor mall that opened about two miles from where we live now. Along with the “big box stores” - which meant Sears and Montgomery Wards - there was a Sav-On Grocery, a Cunningham’s drug store, a Kresge’s (we called it the “dime store,” the 1960’s version of a “dollar store") a barber shop, a shoe repair shop, a couple of restaurants, and a the movie theater.

It used to be (there I go again) that you could park your car in the huge parking lot and live your entire life within the climate controlled confines of Livonia Mall.

They tore the whole thing down about five years ago (except for the Sears, which is still standing), and now the spot contains a Walmart, a Kohl’s, and a collection of four or five min-strip malls with four or five stores in each one. No drugstore. No grocery store. No bank. No gas station. And nothing within walking distance of anything else.

It’s nuts.

Progress is great and all - and I do love some of the 21st century conveniences (cell phones! ATM machines! drive throughs!)

But I do believe there were some things that were better back in the good old days.

Like downtowns.

So I’m excited about living in close proximity to a “downtown.” Northville, our new city, has retained the small town feel while keeping things updated and upscale. I’ll have to get in the car to drive there, but I’m hoping to develop the habit of doing as much of my daily business in one location as possible.

Simple Wisdom

In the mornings when I head out for my walk with Magic and Molly, we often stop to chat with my next door neighbor. He’s usually out in front of his house, watering some plants, waiting for his daughter in law to drop one-year old Jackson off for Papa to babysit while she’s at work. This morning he was waiting for a repairman to come and service his automatic garage door, which seemed to have come off its rails.

“I was out here until 1:00 in the morning trying to fix it,” he told me. “I finally had to give up. Aggravates me when I can’t fix a thing myself. It was just too darn hot and I couldn’t stand on that ladder any more.” He sighed. “My daughter needs me to fix her car, too,” he lamented. “Needs a new motor, ’n I don’t think I can lay underneath a car long enough to put that in. My back just won’t take that kind of thing any more."

He was silent for a moment, and then looked at me. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” he said, “but when you get older there’s a big difference between wantin’ to do something, and being able to do something."

“You’re right about that,” I said, thinking about how tired my own back was from sitting at the piano bench for four hours the night before in the (non) air-conditioned church where I’m rehearsing for Joseph (and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). I love the music in this show, and it’s easy to play ~ I wanted to play for this production. After all, I had a great time when  I played for the show once before in this very same church.

But that was 15 years ago.

I was 40 years old.

And no matter what I’d like to believe about 60 being the new 40 - well, let’s just say my back and slightly arthritic fingers aren’t going along with that program.

It’s not that I can’t do it.

But there’s no doubt that it’s harder than it was the first time around, back in 1996. When I think about rehearsing from 6-10 p.m. for the next five nights and then doing three performances of the show next weekend, I take a deep breath (and a big swallow of Chardonnay).

I suppose we all want to believe we’re capable of doing the kinds of things we’ve always done, no matter what our age. And when I think about my seventy year old friend who is producing this show, I feel ridiculous for having any qualms about my own fortitude.

But I think there is some wisdom in my neighbor’s simple comment. We need to temper our desires with a dose of reality and common sense.

That’s actually pretty good advice no matter what your age.

Meanwhile, I’ll just keep the lyrics from one of my favorite “Joseph” songs running through my head..

“We all dream a lot, some are lucky, some are not. But if you dream it, want it, feel it, it is real. You are what you feel."

For the next week, I’ll dream that I’m 40 again.

Wish me luck.