Okay, so this particular blog will be boring. I'm changing my email address and must go through this long, involved process in order to import my blogs from one email address to another. I'm cancelling my Juno account, which costs me $10.95/month and have gotten a Google account, which costs me nothing. When I had my old computer, I needed the Juno to provide me with Internet access. Now that I have a laptop, I can get free wi-fi at coffee shops, at work, and...once I'm in Utila...free with my apartment rental. A much-improved scenario!
A very busy weekend in store. I must get started filling out the paperwork to receive my pension, go online to apply for social security, place more items for sale on the bulletin at work, and box up all my winter clothes for donation next week. Hooray!!! I will never again need a winter jacket, gloves or boots. I think it will be one of the happiest days of my life when I discard them.
More in a few days. Hope this silly import works!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Shedding the Layers of My Life
I sold my mother's small dresser to the parents of a lovely little girl named Hope on Saturday. She is old enough now to have a grown-up bed and needs a dresser for her clothes. Her mom said she always buys old furniture because the quality is so much better. The dresser she bought from me had a serpentine front with four drawers and was very sturdy and quite heavy for such a small dresser. I had painted it white and decoupaged an ocean scene on the drawer fronts...perfect for a little girl's room. Knowing that a sweet little girl like Hope was getting my mother's dresser made it much easier to part with it.
Later in the day my friend, Melva, came by for a visit. We chatted about my move to Utila, shared a pizza, and then she took my best friend, Oliver, home to live with her and her female cat, Pixie. The pain I felt was every bit as intense as the pain I felt when my first son died in infancy. Oliver knew something was up when I packed up his toys and his food & water dishes. The first attempt at getting him into the cat carrier was a bust. He's not a good traveler and hates being enclosed in small spaces.
He flew out of the carrier and bounded up the stairs to hide under the bed. I followed close behind and, with soothing words, coaxed him out from under the bed and carried him downstairs. The second attempt was a success, but at the cost of Oliver's fear, discomfort, and most likely a sense of betrayal. I carried him to Melva's car as he howled and struggled to be free. Placing him on the front passenger seat, I told him I was so sorry, but that I loved him and knew he would be happy at his new home. Sobbing, I hugged Melva and thanked her for giving Oliver a loving home. "I'm sorry, I have to go", I said, then turned and ran to the empty, quiet apartment which has been home for me and Oliver for the past two years.
The tears came swiftly and seemed in no particular hurry to end. My mind flip-flopped between heartbreak, guilt and sheer loneliness. I had two glasses of wine to ensure being able to fall asleep quickly, but I awakened often, reaching to feel where Oliver was laying before I rolled over to change position. Then I would remember that Oliver was no longer with me...no warmth at my side, no soft purring when I would scratch behind his ears, no mewling when he thought it was time for me to get up. The apartment was too quiet.
The next day was unbearable. Just thinking about Oliver brought tears to my eyes and a sick, empty feeling would spread across my mid-section. If I heard birds chirping outside, I immediately looked to see if Oliver was laying in wait by the patio door...his favorite pastime. Something stirring in the soft breeze coming through the patio door would cause me to turn and look, expecting to see him coming toward me...must be time to sit with Mummy in the chair.
I realized just how much I was going to miss feeling his silky fur, his greeting me at the door when I come home from work, his little hugs and kisses, his understanding of my moods and the way he can see into my soul. He was the perfect cat for me, and I think I was the perfect human for him.
I know Melva will love him and take wonderful care of him, and I hope he and Pixie become friends and enjoy playing and keeping one another company. I'm sure once he settles into his new surroundings he will be happy and forget that I betrayed him. You see, I promised him when I brought him home with me that I would always be there for him. Of course I had no idea at that time that my life would change so drastically. I hope he can forgive me. I hope I can learn to forgive myself.
I know the pain will ease, the tears will one day cease and the sadness will diminish. I will always be grateful for the two wonderful years Oliver and I shared. I guess I have to expect that shedding these layers of my life will be challenging. And when I'm done and arrive at my new life in Utila, I'll be that much lighter and newer and, hopefully, stronger.
Later in the day my friend, Melva, came by for a visit. We chatted about my move to Utila, shared a pizza, and then she took my best friend, Oliver, home to live with her and her female cat, Pixie. The pain I felt was every bit as intense as the pain I felt when my first son died in infancy. Oliver knew something was up when I packed up his toys and his food & water dishes. The first attempt at getting him into the cat carrier was a bust. He's not a good traveler and hates being enclosed in small spaces.
He flew out of the carrier and bounded up the stairs to hide under the bed. I followed close behind and, with soothing words, coaxed him out from under the bed and carried him downstairs. The second attempt was a success, but at the cost of Oliver's fear, discomfort, and most likely a sense of betrayal. I carried him to Melva's car as he howled and struggled to be free. Placing him on the front passenger seat, I told him I was so sorry, but that I loved him and knew he would be happy at his new home. Sobbing, I hugged Melva and thanked her for giving Oliver a loving home. "I'm sorry, I have to go", I said, then turned and ran to the empty, quiet apartment which has been home for me and Oliver for the past two years.
The tears came swiftly and seemed in no particular hurry to end. My mind flip-flopped between heartbreak, guilt and sheer loneliness. I had two glasses of wine to ensure being able to fall asleep quickly, but I awakened often, reaching to feel where Oliver was laying before I rolled over to change position. Then I would remember that Oliver was no longer with me...no warmth at my side, no soft purring when I would scratch behind his ears, no mewling when he thought it was time for me to get up. The apartment was too quiet.
The next day was unbearable. Just thinking about Oliver brought tears to my eyes and a sick, empty feeling would spread across my mid-section. If I heard birds chirping outside, I immediately looked to see if Oliver was laying in wait by the patio door...his favorite pastime. Something stirring in the soft breeze coming through the patio door would cause me to turn and look, expecting to see him coming toward me...must be time to sit with Mummy in the chair.
I realized just how much I was going to miss feeling his silky fur, his greeting me at the door when I come home from work, his little hugs and kisses, his understanding of my moods and the way he can see into my soul. He was the perfect cat for me, and I think I was the perfect human for him.
I know Melva will love him and take wonderful care of him, and I hope he and Pixie become friends and enjoy playing and keeping one another company. I'm sure once he settles into his new surroundings he will be happy and forget that I betrayed him. You see, I promised him when I brought him home with me that I would always be there for him. Of course I had no idea at that time that my life would change so drastically. I hope he can forgive me. I hope I can learn to forgive myself.
I know the pain will ease, the tears will one day cease and the sadness will diminish. I will always be grateful for the two wonderful years Oliver and I shared. I guess I have to expect that shedding these layers of my life will be challenging. And when I'm done and arrive at my new life in Utila, I'll be that much lighter and newer and, hopefully, stronger.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
It's Never Too Late...
I happened upon a T. S. Eliot quote the other night that I feel is not only meaningful, but quite apropos of my current status: It's never too late to be what you might have been. That says so much, doesn't it? I think I will make it my new mantra. I've always been an island girl at heart, and very soon I will be one in reality.
I sold a lot of small items at the local community garage sale last weekend, and made over $200 to add to my "Utila Fund". I'm going to need lots of cash when I get there, since a lot of places (maybe most places!) don't take credit/debit cards. I won't get my pension check or social security until a month after I've arrived, so I'll have to plan on having enough cash with me to get by for two months. Then, hopefully, there will be no delays in receiving my money(s)...not that I don't have the utmost faith in my government (!?).
A dear friend has kindly offered to give Oliver a loving home. She has a young female cat and thinks that she (Pixie) and Oliver would become good friends. She will be picking him up a week from Saturday, May 21. I will then have the summer to make sure that everything is working out for all involved and, if not, can make other arrangements before moving. I know she will be a good mom to my sweet Oliver, and I hope that Oliver will adjust quickly and come to love his new owner and new "sister". I expect to cry myself to sleep that night, without my Oliver to snuggle against the small of my back as I lay in the quiet darkness alone. I will grieve for a time, but I will be strong in the face of adversity. I am grateful to have had the love and companionship of this amazing friend for the past two years.
Tomorrow I will post on the bulletin at work my hand-crafted step-back cupboard, the antique desk that I saved from the landfill and transformed into a work of art, and the Singer sewing machine that hasn't been kept very busy of late. I've had good luck selling things on the bulletin, so I'm hoping my luck will hold.
My new friend on the island, Jan, put the $100 deposit on my apartment for me and, when I asked if I should send her a check, replied, "I'll see you in August and get it from you then." I'm hoping everyone on the island is as gracious and trusting!
Mother's Day was bittersweet this year, as it was the last Mother's Day I will get to spend with my children. Next year we will have a "get-together" on the web-cam instead. Hearing their voices and seeing their sweet faces will have to take the place of feeling their warmth as they wrap their arms around me. Things will be different, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. We'll all adjust to the differences, and life will go on, and it will be good.
I sold a lot of small items at the local community garage sale last weekend, and made over $200 to add to my "Utila Fund". I'm going to need lots of cash when I get there, since a lot of places (maybe most places!) don't take credit/debit cards. I won't get my pension check or social security until a month after I've arrived, so I'll have to plan on having enough cash with me to get by for two months. Then, hopefully, there will be no delays in receiving my money(s)...not that I don't have the utmost faith in my government (!?).
A dear friend has kindly offered to give Oliver a loving home. She has a young female cat and thinks that she (Pixie) and Oliver would become good friends. She will be picking him up a week from Saturday, May 21. I will then have the summer to make sure that everything is working out for all involved and, if not, can make other arrangements before moving. I know she will be a good mom to my sweet Oliver, and I hope that Oliver will adjust quickly and come to love his new owner and new "sister". I expect to cry myself to sleep that night, without my Oliver to snuggle against the small of my back as I lay in the quiet darkness alone. I will grieve for a time, but I will be strong in the face of adversity. I am grateful to have had the love and companionship of this amazing friend for the past two years.
Tomorrow I will post on the bulletin at work my hand-crafted step-back cupboard, the antique desk that I saved from the landfill and transformed into a work of art, and the Singer sewing machine that hasn't been kept very busy of late. I've had good luck selling things on the bulletin, so I'm hoping my luck will hold.
My new friend on the island, Jan, put the $100 deposit on my apartment for me and, when I asked if I should send her a check, replied, "I'll see you in August and get it from you then." I'm hoping everyone on the island is as gracious and trusting!
Mother's Day was bittersweet this year, as it was the last Mother's Day I will get to spend with my children. Next year we will have a "get-together" on the web-cam instead. Hearing their voices and seeing their sweet faces will have to take the place of feeling their warmth as they wrap their arms around me. Things will be different, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. We'll all adjust to the differences, and life will go on, and it will be good.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Riding the Seesaw of Emotions
Most days I'm so excited and filled with anticipation about my move to Utila. But then there are days...moments really...when my heart is doing somersaults and tears come all too easily.
When Oliver...my cat and best friend...turns his head to look at me and places his paw upon my chest as a gesture of love and devotion, I wonder how I can leave him behind. Intellectually I know why I can't bring him with me, but emotionally it will be one of the hardest things I've ever done to leave him with a new owner.
You see, I found Oliver quite by accident, following the implosion of my 44-year marriage. As soon as I spotted him I thought, 'that's my cat', and once we met and sized one another up, I was certain that Oliver and I had known each other "before". Past lives? Reincarnation? I'm not sure. I just knew that we were spiritually connected. He saw me through a difficult time and gave me nothing less than his complete love, loyalty and an occasional hairball. I think I need to find a home for him sooner, rather than later. If he goes to a new home now, I will have the time to grieve before I move to Utila, and I won't be saying goodbye to all my loved ones at once.
On the "up" note, I'm slowly getting rid of my material possessions. My bistro set and bar stools are sold, as is my computer/printer, and this weekend is the first (of many, I'm sure!) garage sale, where I hope to unload lots of smaller items that I can certainly do without during the next few months. I sold the bistro set to a good friend, and we sat on it on my balcony, toasting each other with our glasses of wine, before she took it home with her.
I'm also giving little trinkets to friends as keepsakes. Good friend, Sue, who collects Boyd's Bears, got the stuffed Boyd's Bear given to me by my friend, Ellen, who has since passed away. How do you sell something like that at a garage sale, anyhow? It just wouldn't be right. So you pass it on to someone who is also near and dear to you, knowing that they will give it the same care that you did.
I'll let you know how I'm feeling after the garage sale, when most of my "stuff" has gone to new homes.
When Oliver...my cat and best friend...turns his head to look at me and places his paw upon my chest as a gesture of love and devotion, I wonder how I can leave him behind. Intellectually I know why I can't bring him with me, but emotionally it will be one of the hardest things I've ever done to leave him with a new owner.
You see, I found Oliver quite by accident, following the implosion of my 44-year marriage. As soon as I spotted him I thought, 'that's my cat', and once we met and sized one another up, I was certain that Oliver and I had known each other "before". Past lives? Reincarnation? I'm not sure. I just knew that we were spiritually connected. He saw me through a difficult time and gave me nothing less than his complete love, loyalty and an occasional hairball. I think I need to find a home for him sooner, rather than later. If he goes to a new home now, I will have the time to grieve before I move to Utila, and I won't be saying goodbye to all my loved ones at once.
On the "up" note, I'm slowly getting rid of my material possessions. My bistro set and bar stools are sold, as is my computer/printer, and this weekend is the first (of many, I'm sure!) garage sale, where I hope to unload lots of smaller items that I can certainly do without during the next few months. I sold the bistro set to a good friend, and we sat on it on my balcony, toasting each other with our glasses of wine, before she took it home with her.
I'm also giving little trinkets to friends as keepsakes. Good friend, Sue, who collects Boyd's Bears, got the stuffed Boyd's Bear given to me by my friend, Ellen, who has since passed away. How do you sell something like that at a garage sale, anyhow? It just wouldn't be right. So you pass it on to someone who is also near and dear to you, knowing that they will give it the same care that you did.
I'll let you know how I'm feeling after the garage sale, when most of my "stuff" has gone to new homes.
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