Maybe it was all the hoopla over the royal wedding and the fact that I was trying to come up with a column that turned my thoughts to an envelope I received in the mail a few years back. It contained a typewritten note – when was the last time you saw a typewritten note – suggesting I write a column on weddings. He went on to relate a story of an old chum who was locked in his bedroom on the day of his wedding some sixty years earlier. It was probably the storyteller who did the key-turning but the confession was only slightly visible between the lines.
Moving sucks. Not the part about living in a new place and meeting new people. That’s nice. It’s the ‘getting ready to move’ part that makes you want to rip the Sold sign from the front yard.
The only way he’d leave our place in the country is in a pine box. That’s what he said. So much for my suggestion that we downsize. Of course, timing is everything. Impatience keeps me from mastering that whole ‘choose the right moment’ thing. During the summer while hubby was busy pruning, weeding, re-planting, mowing, etc., I was fidgeting with the urge for a change of scene. There was a time when I constantly needed challenge in my life – I’m totally over that – but I still thrive on adventure.
That Benjamin Button fella had it right. Did you catch that movie from a few years back? The Curious Case of Benjamin Button? He was born an old man and he grew younger. Imagine starting life with wrinkles, arthritis, and cataracts. I’ll tell you, he had a face only a mother could love. Unfortunately, his mother died and his father…well, you’d have to see the movie.
I was contortioning my way through morning yoga – most poses are a challenge – when I heard the tail end of a radio ad. Something about underwear that will change your life. Seriously? Surely I was mistaken, but the thought of super power panties stayed with me for the duration of the Cat Pose. In all my years as a retailer, I’d never encountered gotchies that came close to such a claim.
The chorus from that 70s moldy oldy ‘Sign, sign, everywhere a sign’ played in my mind as I waited. I felt the room closing in on me. There were signs posted all over the office in bold block lettering with multiple exclamation marks. What the heck?
I usually read a book to pass the time, but the plethora of signs had my full attention. The old song bounced off my brain, ‘Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?’ Come on, you remember that tune.
I was a skinny, mousey-haired grade-niner trembling in my go-go boots when I stood on the stage to try out for the school play. Miss Cuthbertson pounded away at the piano adding her boisterous voice to mine as it teetered on each faltering note. After my humiliating audition, I skulked away from centre stage to disappear into the darkness of the wings. There was no point in waiting around for the judge’s decision. They needed singers and I wasn’t much of one.
My normally calm husband was in an agitated state. Did you see that, he wanted to know, and then rushed on to explain that when he opened the hood of my car to check the windshield washer fluid, a cat jumped in his face. He was muttering about a near heart attack and I was thinking how strange it was because we haven’t seen cats in our area for years. Yes, strange.
I’m pole walking. Not to be confused with pole dancing, which is beyond me by thirty years and thirty pounds – okay, forty.
A line of people striding through the park this summer gripping what looked like ski poles had me rubbernecking down the main drag. Then I read a timely article on the benefits of this exercise. Aha! My enthusiasm swelled. I could burn 46% more calories walking – something I enjoyed doing anyway – with poles. Count me in.
After twenty years of remote country living, it was a shock to be thrust into a hubbub of friendly, nodding, waving, dog loving, nature enthusiasts. This summer we waved to more people than the royal family.
Who would have thought that a forty-foot box with a dozen windows and a covered verandah could provide such bliss? We took the plunge and bought a ‘summer place’. A park model with all the conveniences of home, even a built-in desk so there was no excuse for me to miss a deadline.