Travels with The Rayman

 

Hello, dear readers!

It snowed here this morning, in our neck of the woods. We walked Beau anyway. His sniffing proclivities made it colder, but Beau must do what Beau does. This climate forces us to “just get use to it” and that’s okay. Joy is discovering that we won’t melt if it rains and won’t freeze if it snows. We will, however, slip and slide and fall down if an ice storm intrudes. These are all key learnings. Buying the right clothes has helped. Most of our clothes are from Costco. They sell all manner of flannel, raincoats, gloves, some hats…thank you, Costco. LLBean now provides us with flannel-lined pants, Vermont Country Store provides us with sleep shirts for the Rayman. Small clothes investments writ large, I say.

Speaking of the Rayman, he is good following his new digital appliance that was inserted into his chest muscle. He can’t lift more than 10 pounds, he can’t drive yet, he is forced to rest and because of all that, getting his procedure done in the middle of winter proved to be fortuitous. Can’t play golf so we are now filling our time charting our future.

As many of you know, we have a 2-story skinny house that is absent a garage. This means we park on the street. Rayman looked out the front window this morning and marveled that he could see both cars; meaning, most of the time one car can’t been seen because it is parked down the street. The reason he was looking is because he wanted to adorn our Honda with our new Oregon license plate. It is very good looking and we are getting closer and closer to becoming full fledged citizens of this wild and pretty world. 

 

 

Our other car still has a CA license plate because we CANNOT find the title. It is in a box somewhere in the POD that has not yet been delivered. The reason it has not yet been delivered is because we DO NOT HAVE A GARAGE. Which is a great segue into a story or two.

 

While driving around with a realtor looking at property WITH A GARAGE, our realtor said,” Well, no one in PDX parks their car in a garage. Most cars are either parked in their driveways or on the street.” And that is true. However, we need a garage right now so we can eliminate the POD. The kids have a 3-car garage in Vancouver, WA so one POD was emptied into the third stall of their garage. And we are now in the process of having them bring boxes over so we can figure out what we need to get rid of or put away somewhere. Once we complete that task, we will have the other POD delivered to their garage and continue the process. What a chore. 

And about the realtor. We have decided the new plan for our life is to move into independent living in a senior living confab. Here is their website.  https://www.willametteview.org/  And guess what? We must downsize from 1700 square feet to less than a thousand. And we won’t have a GARAGE. Ain’t life great. And to think we all brought this upon ourselves!  Whoooo.

 

Here is the good news. We won’t be having a GARAGE sale. And I’m not going to list things for sale and deal with all that. If the kids don’t want it, it gets donated. End of story. Really, I don’t mind giving to organizations that help people. I have received help my whole life and I just look at it as paying it forward. It is a win-win.

Funny how life is. We work and work and work to buy things. Consumerism really isn’t our friend in the final analysis. Not that I haven’t figured this out a long time ago. It is just slapping us upside the head now as we pare down so the kids won’t need to do much when we exit, stage left. When we move in, we will also be buying peace of mind. We will not end up by ourselves. Heck, this place even has an indoor pool that I won’t have to drive to in the freezing rain.

Yesterday, I drove to the community indoor pool to do aqua aerobics. I have driven there for years. Yet, I got lost. Our street was closed for a repair, the workers building the four-plex next door had all the parking spaces. It was raining, and here I was in a bathing suit, a heavy kaftan, a turtleneck top, Uggs on the my feet wading and waddling forward to the car with CA plates. And I got lost. Not for long, just long enough to get me thinking affectionately about indoor pools that can be accessed without going outside. 

PDX has us watching Northern Exposure. Rayman and I had never seen the show, so we are finding it hilarious for it’s lack of “me too” sensitivities and racial slurs. No, that is not funny except that it is in a perverse sort of way. Thank goodness we have evolved. We on the left are kinder than that. I can remember during that time when I had a male peer ask me to go get him some coffee. My reply was, “F**k you.” Those were the days. And please don’t judge me. These guys was horrid people that did everything they could do to sabotage me at work. Just saying.

The sun was out yesterday for a bit and we drove into PDX downtown to return something to Pottery Barn, the store of muted colors. In an effort to re-do our bedroom here in preparation for our new digs someday, I BOUGHT a quilt on-line that was a bust. Anyway, on the way back to the northeast part of the city to go to Costco (see a trend?) to re-fuel with help from a gas attendant (even though Oregon did away with mandatory gas station attendants, Costco has retained 9 pumps for attendants and non-attended pumps as well), we followed the Columbia River at water’s edge to return to our humble abode. What a grand river nature has provided. I love that drive. It lifts the spirit. While parts of this world crash and burn because of climate change, the river flows on providing a habitat for the salmon, the sturgeon. And get this…we saw a Bald Eagle on the wing near the river. So cool.

It is starting to snow again, and as I look past the window to our fence, I see a squirrel running up the tree bole, so brave he or she is gathering food on this cold afternoon. 

Book Update:  my PhD editor tells me he is a day or two away from sending me my new and improved book. Before I hired him, I had no idea he was moving from San Diego to Eureka this past month. I’ve been waiting for oh, so long. This is good news. It guarantees more work on my part but I’m anxiously awaiting the new and improved draft. I’m atwitter.  

I’m done here. More to come.

P.s. check out the re-do of Shogun. We are enjoying it. Oh, and if you haven’t watched it, Northern Exposure. It is silly. And it was filmed in WA not far from here!

 

 

 

We sold our lovely home in Morro Bay and this set off a chain of events. Morro Bay was in the 60-degree range with a slight breeze as we backed down the driveway. And away we went. Off to the Northwest.  What on earth were we thinking? 

This substack /blog is a result of our move. Hey hiccups indeed happened and they were served up with a bit of irony and hilarity in the process. After all, we are in our late seventies and shouldn’t we be staying put? In Morro Bay we had friends but no family. We were established. We were comfortable and happy. There is no finer place to live than the central coast of California. Why oh why did we leave?

My husband, Rayman, teases that I like to move every ten years. He isn’t wrong except that he insinuates I’m part gypsy. However, in my own defense, there has always been a reason and he and I have always decided together to pull up stakes. So there is that. Leaving that aside, the other caveat is that while moving is a bitch, it has always ended up providing new adventure that include hiccups. And so it goes.

So, off we drove that mild winter day in December. Went headed to the great Northwest; specifically, we headed to Portland, Oregon aka Portlandia. The name sticks. Portland is a great city with trouble just like every other great city. It isn’t perfect. It’s no Morro Bay. However, we had spent the past 5 summers in a second home up in Portland and we had grown accustomed to its charms. The kids live across the mighty Columbia in Vancouver, Washington. We were close. The move made sense to us.

The day after we arrived, a blizzard blew in. Oh, my. I had never been in a blizzard. The closest ever to a blizzard I had come involved going to mountain to ski. Here’s the deal. At the end of the ski adventure, a trip home was all it took to leave the snow. Did I mention that skiing terrified me? As I skied down the trails, I worked hard not to get to the bottom of the ski runs. This resulted in strong legs because traversing the hill a100 times to avoid going fast takes work. When the day of skiing ended, I was ready for a piece of meat washed down with a glass of burgundy before I catapulted myself into bed. It was exhausting. But I persevered until one day I fell down on a flat run and couldn’t get up. That did it for me. No more of that foolishness. That was all I knew of snow.

Locked down in Portland because of an ice storm that followed the blizzard was our how we spent our first week in Portland. And that is how I decided I should try this substack business. I had time on my hands and was eager to write. So, here’s the deal. I will publish this post on my blog and on substack just for the fun of it! Incidentally, the name of my substack is Hiccups Happen.

Our doggie, Beau was shocked and unaccustomed to this new environment too. We drove our two cars up and the only one Beau could fit in was the Honda SUV CRV XYZ. On the floor of the car because every square inch of both cars were loaded with our stuff. Poor guy. This picture was snapped when we stopped at a strip mall to have a conversation with our broker about investing in a few CDs so the proceeds from our house would gather some interest. That was fun. Beau seemed interested too.

 

 

It was fun caravanning. I listed to Bach and Mozart because Rayman doesn’t favor longhairs and this offered me a perfect opportunity to indulge. He was probably rocking out to the Eagles. While alone, we were still together. Nice. The Oregon coast is beautiful, was beautiful. Plenty to look at during the journey north.

About those hiccups. Rayman lost his electric toothbrush somewhere. Our safe that holds our precious things was accidentally packed in a POD and when we finally caught up with it as we unloaded POD #1, we discovered we didn’t have the key to open the safe. Brilliant. Where is key? Don’t know. You would think that wouldn’t happen to our safe. Think again. When you are up to your ass in alligators, you forget about draining the swamp as the old saying goes.

 We also cannot find our financial files or our passports. That will keep us in the country. Hoping to find the passports before the election in November. We may need to move to Mexico. Just sayin. That wall swings both ways, doesn’t it?

Currently, our living room is a disaster area. Traffic cones might improve the place. POD # 1 contents included lots of our stuff along with furniture the kids wanted. Their furniture is now in their house. Our stuff is in their garage. Our house in Portland doesn’t have a garage which is not unusual for Portlandia. Most of the older homes here have garages that you can’t use because the garages are small and the driveways don’t have straight lines that would allow a driver to park a car by driving straight in. Matched with the problem that cars are so darn big now compared to the model T that they won’t fit in the garage. So people park on the streets which are so narrow, only one car can advance at a time. 

Here we are and now it is time to start thinking about getting to know our new state of Oregon. This state boasts Crater Lake, many extinct volcanic mountains, deepest gorge in North America. It has fabulous rivers including the Columbia Gorge, the Willamette, the Deschutes, the Snake, the Rogue are the famous ones. There are many more. Waterfalls. They do not rival the Yosemite falls but there are many to see here. Sand dunes and a rocky shoreline beckon. We are contemplating some trips to discover these things. Because hiccups always happen when you venture out, there will be much to report. Oh, and powwows. Planning on a doing some powwows this summer. With lots of reservations up here, the opportunities abound for Native American experiences.

See you soon!!

It will be a hoot.

Well, now we’ve done it. It’s Saturday morning and the snow god has raised his head inn Portland (PDX). The wind is howling, the trees are whipping around as if they are telling the birds not to land, the squirrels not to invade. Snow is swirling about, the flakes are big as marbles yet light as a feather. Our bright red Weber barbecue offers a splash of color that is shocking, everything else turning white.

I must say I’m impressed by the ferociousness of the scene. This feeling will diminish if the lights go out which is a distinct possibility, isn’t it? The neighborhood hardware store may see us today. We might need stuff. And it it continues, which it surely will if predictions hold weight, we may spend the day and night under down comforters as we worry about the tree in the neighbor’s yard falling down.  You can actually see what way the wind blows.

Are we prepared? In a word, no. However, this too shall pass. If it gets too bad I.e. no power, we can find a hotel. And as I ponder the storm, why does PDX have a homeless problem? This is not a good place to live under an overpass. 

 

One thing PDX and the state of Oregon have is water. On our way over the pass that separates the ocean from inland, we followed a river, full to its banks with water hellbent to reach the Pacific Ocean. It was quite lovely to see the difference between then and now, California v Oregon. Everything is green here because of the life-affirming rain and snow. Now rather than worrying about the cows in a field of stubble, the cows braving the heat in a field with not a tree for shade, I can worry about the lambs and the llamas freezing to death.

Speaking of lamb, there are three lamb shanks in the refrigerator that I will cook if the power stays on. So there is that.

Rayman just retrieved one of our wicker chairs. It got blown off the porch and onto the stairs leading up to the front door. Then he let Beau out in the backyard and Beau seemed mystified at first and then scrambled back in to the comfort of the house. Not sure how we are going to deal with the “walk”. 

It suddenly strikes me life will not be ordinary here. And that is okay. I’m grateful for the opportunity. Tamara, our daughter-in-law came for dinner last night. Ryan, number one son, is in Utah having his own winter experience on the slopes, skiing down snow-clad mountains. He will have a hard time returning home with this weather. And then I remember the time we took him and a friend skiing in Utah and we stayed one night on the way in Elko, NV which was 37 degrees below zero. It was a trip for the ages.

Yesterday I spent time on the computer arranging DMV appointments, changing addresses, and all that comes with a change of venue. We emptied three suitcases, dusted out drawers, rearranged clothes. The one thing we really screwed up was losing track of our important papers. Where they are is a mystery. A mystery of moving. POD 1? POD 2? They clearly are not here and, of course, we need them. POD 1 arrives on the 15th at the kids house. Unloading in this weather will not happen if I have any say in the matter. Although I suppose one could argue that snow is better than rain for a cloth couch. We’ll see. 

Rayman seems happy. “It is what it is”, he remarked when I asked him if he was happy. And who can forget our first RV trip? I’ll put in the info in case you did forget that debacle. It was a hoot.

Oh, and then there was this trip (just click the link) : snowed-in

More to come as Mother Nature does her thing.

Comment to my email please. Thanks for reading!!!

We are currently headed to Portland to embark on a new phase in our lives. How we got to this point in time is worth a story or two. So, let me expound on that.  Just sit down now and take it all in.

DIVISIONS OF RESPONSIBILITIES TO FOLLOW FOR MOVING NORTH

We both had a discussion of responsibilities while in a sober state of mind which in itself may be a major milestone. Then we parsed out the work required according to aptitude or lack thereof. I would make all the arrangements based on our agreements of what would work. Rent two PODS, check. Hire loaders, check. Verify insurance, check. Make hotel reservations for our trip north, check. Sign all the docusigns, check. Change our address, check. Arrange for the house to be cleaned, check. And-the list goes on. Oh, and on that list the 1800-GOT-JUNK was scheduled for two separate pick ups. And yet, a third haul away was needed. Plus Jim, our favorite electric truck owner volunteered to haul all our food to the land fill. 

Rayman would lift things. 

Oh, I kid the Rayman!!

We both wrapped things up. Glasses, plates, lamps, pictures, etc. That was not entirely our choice because the guys I hired to load the PODs came through the front door and asked where our boxes were.  I said, “I thought we agreed you would pack and load.” “Oh, no, I just load”, he huffed and puffed. Preferring not to piss him off since he was loading our lives’ accumulated treasures into a big thing that was placed on the curb by a robot-controlled lift and drop machine that also shifted and jerked, I kept myself in check. So, there we were with a Gordian Knot. This was day one. 

 

On second day with these two characters, we rehired them to just pack. We worked like dogs all day wrapping, stuffing, taping, throwing rugs, and lots of lifting by the Rayman…Of the three days in which we were all attached at the hip,  that second day was the most sane. This was because they DID WHAT I HIRED THEM TO DO.

Third day of agony was another loading day. A second POD had arrived so now there were choices involved which slowed things up. A few loaded items had to be reassigned to the other POD and vice versa. And this was the drop dead date…everything that was going had to be in POD 1 or POD 2. But that wasn’t the big bloop. With hands above his head with all fingers sticking straight up like a the woman above is doing, loader number one entered the empty living room and announced that the glass table top out in the atrium has shattered while he was carrying it.

WHAT?

Yes. You heard me. So when I asked through clenched teeth, “How did that happen?”, he said it was caused by static electricity. “Yes, that has happened to me on several occasions. And if that wasn’t it, the table top was probably nicked, it’s old, right?” 

 

“Static electricity.” And believe me when I tell you that he seemed dead serious. That is when I figured I had to either scream, AAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH or just go nuclear. So, I looked up from the checkbook as I was sitting on the hearth getting ready to pay these guys and I said, “Well, isn’t that something.”

When the PODS were picked up by the same robot-controlled dumaflache, we turned around, headed into the house and looked at all the stuff that was still in the house. Stuff is very sexual because it seems to multiply. Actually, every day for a few weeks we had been making trips to Achievement House, a local charity. The amount of loot we unloaded because of this move was staggering. Furniture, sets of dishes, fancy wine glasses, that nail clipper that out-served its usefulness. Coffee maker, bean grinder, and a partridge in a pear tree (just kidding about the bird). Fancy dresses, a tux with shoes to match, the shredder, thousands of paper clips, safety pins, old buttons from the 1950s, costume jewelry and on and on and on.

GIVING THINGS AWAY

It must be a fact of life that people with means accumulate way too many things which I refer to as “stuff”. The stuff includes old tea cups never used, too many platters for food service, a yoga mat, a lifetime supply of printer paper…It also, for a cook, means every spice known to man must be thrown out. I flushed the flours, emptied the fridge of all condiments including anchovy paste and 5 bottles of pickle relish. My only excuse is that we had two fridges so it was easier for the pickle relish jars to hide when two ice boxes are involved.  Ergo: each fridges’ average was only 2.5 jars per fridge.

Back to the cook and her provisions for a minute. Frozen persimmon pulp from 3 years ago, a mayo jar full of fast-acting yeast from years past. The list when on and on. It was one of more depressing things I had to do through in this entire process. Throwing away perfectly good food is a gigantic bummer. But I did it… proving that it is easier to throw it away at the end of the process because I had reached my limit of dealing with all this crap now that we were almost done. Had I thrown it away at the beginning, my mostly morose-like emotions I had to deal with would have lasted longer

Do we take the fly swatter or no? Do the shoe horns, both of them for some reason, both stay or go? This is a pertinent question because we had another house full of stuff in Portland and why have three of everything? Does the bedspread go? What about the stag’s head that I use to dangle jewelry go? All these things had to be discussed and that slowed us down. Sometimes arguments occurred. Rayman hissed at me at one point…I was too directive throughout.

Bottom line, it all got done. Sun up to sun down we worked. We even slept in four beds. Our bed, the guest room bed because our bed was relegated to POD 1, the sofa bed in the den because the guest room bed was hauled to the consignment store, and finally the bed at Mary Kay and Jay’s casita because all the beds were gone. We had to move out before the close of escrow.

It is funny how different the Rayman and I are from one another. If there are two ways to do something, we always pick the opposite of the the other. Uncanny, it is. My idea for the shattered glass that still remained in the atrium is a case in point. I wanted to pay our gardener to do the clean-up. Rayman wanted to clean it up. Every time I turned around he was on all fours digging shattered glass out of the small pebbles that filled the spaces between the flagstone…using my Ralph Lauren soup spoon as a tool…all other tools were packed away in POD 1 or 2. He just couldn’t help himself. (And neither could I!! ) That was because the new owners noticed the shattered glass on the final walk-through. Just multiply that example by, say, 100, and you get close to the order of magnitude experienced by us during the ordeal.

 

OF WIPERS, KEYS, AND LOSING TRACK OF THINGS

A few other funny things happened. The Ford C-max needed windshield wipers. Instead of getting them, Rayman announced that no rain was expected so we could get them in Healdsburg on our way north. Today, we headed north. At Palo Alto it started raining and by the time we were opposite SFO  (20 miles?), the CHP was weaving from lane to lane to slow traffic because WE HEADED INTO A CLOUD BURST. At one point, a high profile truck passed me going way too fast and the road water washed completely over the car which induced sudden blindness. I could not see the road. Terrifying. Rayman was following me in the Ford. He got the same treatment from Mother Nature. He might have regretted not getting wipers after all. 

Then there were little funny things…like to speed up our getaway this morning, the first Saturday of the new year, I drove to the drive-thru for 2 lattes, Rayman picked up some pastries, and we headed down to the rock to watch the outsized waves lashing the jetty while we ate. He moved to my car. We ate and drank. He stayed to walk Beau and I headed back to the casita. Just pulling up in front of our fourth bedroom, my phone ran. Rayman was on the other “line”. He left the car key in my car. So, off I went to give him the key. It was no wonder, though. We had spent days trying to remember where this was and that was. Did we lock the door, did we bring the key, where was the iPhone? Where was the receipt from Ace for the scotch tape dispenser we were returning?  OMG, we forgot to do thus and such. It was just way too much to remember everything. Consequently, we remembered little. And that slowed us up. Have you seen the series, Slow Horses? It was nothing like that but I would very much like to plagiarize the name. We were slow horses.

When I was a kid I would ask my mom where my shoes were. She would exclaim, “In the shoe department.” Loosely translated that meant ‘look for them yourself’. Through all this work, I never once said that to the Rayman nor did he say that to me. We really were pulling together most of the time. It is just that the odd things seem to be the funniest to me. The inexplicable, the unusual, the downright unbelievable. Those experiences are what I remember.

But don’t get me wrong. There were problems. Rayman didn’t pull into the garage all the way and then hit the garage door opener by mistake and the SUV trunk was sticking up in the air. Crunch, scape. I shrieked and Rayman pressed the door opener again but the damage was done. We over-ordered some packing supplies and not enough of other supplies. So that required multiple trips to and from Home Depot in San Luis. But that is the way it goes. The ying and the yang of it.

The local food bank at the senior center in Morro Bay gladly took all of our unopened foodstuffs. Until the last day. I took some stuff in the building and was immediately intercepted by the rules Nazi. “Nope. We don’t take food donations”, he growled. “I’ve been bringing food donations here every day this week.”, I countered. He insisted and I insisted again. Then in a fit of pique, he explained to me that the director just sent out an edict that no more donations could be accepted effective this day. Well…I ask you, what are the chances? So as I was leaving the building, I dumped the food in their wastepaper basket. Vengeance by thine.

Now it is Sunday morning in Healdsburg and cold as a witches’ tit. Look at me. Already taking note of the cold weather. In Portland it is currently 39 degrees going to high of 45 today. Burr. Also, what were we thinking? We plan to meet up with our friends, Bob and Margaret for brunch and a day of visitation and fun. Ate at their new place, Enso, a Buddhist enclave that had GREAT food. You don’t have to be a Buddhist to live at Enso. We found it to be very calm and because it is brand new, very lovely to behold. Their two-bedroom apartment had a great kitchen. And because they are artists, the walls were covered with great art and some exotic masks that looked down from above the door jam. 

 

Stayed tune. There will be more stories of our historic migration north.

As most of my readers are aware, we are moving to Portland, Oregon in January.The house is in escrow and ever since that event a few days ago, the ghosts are wreaking havoc. In one night, two light bulbs blew. The printer died, the thermostat turned to the darkside, and I’m sure are there are other things…but isn’t’ that enough to make one wonder?

So, I wonder.

  In other news, moving is a bitch and as many times in my life that I have moved, this is still an ordeal that is the worst yet given my advanced age.

So…our address in Portland will be as it ever was…3591 NE 44th Ave, Portland, OR 97213. Everything else will remain the same. Phone numbers, emails. So only an address to change.

We have elected to use PODS. One POD will go to Vancouver, WA where the kids live. They are taking a lot of stuff!! The other POD will be our stuff and it will go to storage…POD storage until we decide what the heck to do with all our stuff. We hope to sell the OR house and buy a one story affair next year.

Oh, my. Organization and planning are on high alert around these parts. Of course, we are both sad to be leaving the state of CA, my native land. Time marches on and it is time to be closer to my family, our family. We are looking forward to adventure and trying to squash any regrets to the dustpan of history.

So, there you have it.

Later, gator.

Dianna

P.s. we are happy to entertain anyone that we like to come and visit!! After winter, that is. No one in their right mind would go to visit in the winter, let along move in the winter. Just sayin.

Do you wonder what lurks in the crevices of your garage?  or attic?  or basement?  CA doesn’t do basements too much but I had the good fortune of having grandparents that had a basement. It was dank, dark, foreboding. And I loved it in a dangerous kind of way. The steps were steep and one lone lightbulb illuminated the entire terrain. The wood that held the house up above the basement was pristine redwood that I once managed to lodge across the palm of my hand. A giant splinter of redwood. Yikes. Did that hurt.  

Once down in the abyss of the concrete reinforced (I hope) room, were located shelves. And on the shelves were unopened boxes. White boxes. And they had ribbon around them. Silver ribbons.  Along with those boxes were a myriad of plates, cups, glasses, piles of clothes. Thinking of it now, it is not too far removed from what the Rayman and I just found in our garage as we embarked on our “spring clean”.  However, the basement had much more character. It also had a vent to the outside which was useful for light and air. Uncle Dodo, the architect of my grandparents house was no slouch. He thought of everything, apparently.  

But I digress.

Our neighbor, the Jordan family had a basement too. As far as I know, these were the only two basements on our block but then I never did a census, and I didn’t snoop. Surmising is the best I can do.  Johnny Jordan was an entrepreneur in the entertainment business. He entertained people in his bars and liquor stores. And because of this perhaps, he made the basement of his house into an elaborate bar. It had red tiles on the floor and a small bar, complete with sink, mirrors, glasses, booze. And it had a closet. That is where we changed our clothes when we were putting on a “floor show” for the adults. The water heater may have been in it. Not sure. Memories have faded over time. But that basement was high class. It was a hidden gem. Perhaps it was a speakeasy!!  I think it is fair to say that their basement had far less spiders than ours did.  Oh, and how can I forget. It had a jukebox. With records.  OMG.  It was so cool.  And it also had a high window to the outside for air and light.

So, today Rayman and I started cleaning the garage and it brought all these memories back when I stopped to take a water break and sit down to cool down.  

Our garage is not nearly as interesting. And it’s full of stuff that I wonder what ever possessed us to buy. Oh, I’m sure we had our reasons but really. There must have been located 10 tubes of silicon stuff. Putty. 30 cans of opened paint, mostly mysterious as to the application they were intended for. Many from the previous owner so they must match our walls. Forty two cloth bags for lugging stuff home. Wine bags. You know the kind that have 6 compartments. Bags from Whole Foods, New Frontiers, Albertsons, Morro Bay Golf Course. Bags up the ying yang.  Old tire chains that do not fit on presently owned automobiles. Hats which we plan to keep but hats galore. Baseball caps, my floppy golf hats. And pictures. OMG. Family pictures. And many of them framed. So, I took the pictures out of the frames and they now the frames rest in the back of the Prius. Off to the Goodwill truck with the frames, old tools, clothes that don’t fit anymore. A major clean up.

But back to the boxes those boxes in the basement. When I got old enough to reach the shelves, I opened one of the boxes. It had a white small card attached. Dear Donna. Congratulations on your marriage. Love, Whomever. The boxes were unopened wedding presents filled with Fostoria glasses and plates. Cups and saucers. Never opened.  he vestige of a broken marriage.   How sad, really. My parents were only married for a few years, not long enough, apparently, to open the wedding gifts. Not long enough to set up house.  

Well, some of those dishes are in my kitchen today. I use them for desserts and salads. Quite useful to the homemaker. Take that to mean what you wish. I will spoil your fun by telling you that my mother was completely uninterested in making a home. Her favorite meal to make was fish sticks, at the dawn of the frozen dinner era. She was also quite fond of cream tuna on toast. So, I guess she didn’t need salad and dessert plates for that, now did she?

Well, I had my rest. The garage beckons. And I found an old box of my grandmother’s recipes (she was a good cook and homemaker). So, perhaps, I will share a few of them with you later on. But first, I must plow through that box and see what i can find.

Hope there aren’t any spiders in there.