No, not another “age” thing. I hear the smirking out there. The folks at WordPress keep track of my postings, and they tell me that this writing will be number 200. I know – where has the time gone? Who knew that I had enough in me that anyone else would want to read? For this momentous occasion, I debated the content. Would I write extensively on the world situation in Eastern Europe? Would a piece on climate change be appropriate, particularly with one storm after another charging across the country, and a major blizzard due to hit us tomorrow? Perhaps an opinion piece on voting rights. Or I could do one of my signature “grumpy old man” bits about something that’s been driving me nuts lately, like plastic bottles tipping over or the daily phone calls about health care supplements. But no, none of those are suitable or suitably positive. None really set the tone for the Big Two Hundred. So . . . . .
Last week, our niece Charlotte was being picked up at school by her grandfather. The family has been on a roller coaster for a couple of weeks after her brother and father had tested positive for COVID. Then, her mother got it too. It hasn’t been pleasant for them. As she climbed into the car, though, her grandfather asked about her day. Her response, “Papa, it was fabulous!” What a great response, and I still smile as I think about it. Charlotte is not particularly inhibited. Her tenth birthday was this past weekend, and while infection sadly kept everyone (and her anticipated presents) away, she managed to keep a very positive outlook. “It just stretches it out longer.”, to quote. What a marvelous outlook, and a great lesson for us all.
One morning last spring, when I started writing some of this, I was in the kitchen pouring my first cup of coffee. cI looked out on the front terrace and saw two mourning doves strutting proudly across the walkway. Dashing around them was a squirrel, scampering among the garden blossoms. The weather had been in that transitional stage – cold for a day or two followed by some sunny, warm days. Up in the garden are daffodils and ground phlox. The forsythia was particularly good this year, and the azaleas weren’t far behind. The flowering crabapple tree in the back yard is just starting to leaf, and the buds are evident. It would be another while before it reached blossoming stage. We call it Alfred after my late father-in-law, because a friend gave us a gift card to buy it. It keeps its own time table, as did he, so it blossoms when it’s good and ready. But everything reminds me that the earth was in the early stages of coming back to life. As the Princess had lived in DC for many years both in college and working, we tended to keep tabs on the cherry blossoms. They were early in 2021, coming out in late March. Whether that’s climate change, a new and hopeful administration, or simply those beautiful trees doing what they do best, it’s a sure and glorious sign that civilization will persevere. We’ve only seen the blossoms out once, and that, ironically, was her last year in DC at the end of an 18-year run.
The holidays were very successful this year. Our get-togethers were sporadic, nothing comprehensive. We couldn’t see my sister’s family because their part of the state was seeing rapidly rising cases of Omicron, but we kept in touch by phone, along with several of my Canadian cousins. We’re able to keep up either by phone or email, and get pictures of their families and grandchildren. In a mildly humorous event, I’d mentioned that I’d like a leaf blower at some point, so Her Ladyship ordered one for me for my birthday in early December. It came one day in a large box, which Elizabeth hid under her bed until the grand event. Herself sent me out to buy several rolls of wrapping paper to go over this large, rectangular box. She got it all beautifully wrapped a few days before the day. On my birthday, I unwrapped it and opened the “outside” box, because as you know, nothing comes in just one box or bag any more. Inside was a very decorative, gift-wrapped package. Herself had forgotten that she ordered it gift-wrapped. I heard for days muttering that she need not have bothered. In a reverse vein, the Princess ordered for me a lovely herb garden that I’ll start when the warm weather comes and I can set it up in a sunny spot. It arrived on the front porch in box with nice illustrations and descriptions on the outside. It did rather spoil the surprise for which she was hoping.
Perhaps I’ve spent too much time inside this winter, particularly as we’ve gone back into seclusion, but to quote Miss Charlotte, my days are “fabulous”. I get up and read the paper until Her Ladyship is up and about. I have guilt-free naps in the afternoon. We’ve discovered a whole new world of PBS, Hulu, HBO Max, and other television watching that keeps evenings fully engaging. We’re even watching a series of pottery competitions that pick up where the Great British Baking Show leaves off. If I feel ambitious, I’ll clean out a closet or dust and vacuum. If I’m not really feeling it, . . . .oh well. I’ve filled the Princess’s bedroom with houseplants, and call it my “study” behind her back. I nod to the wild turkeys feeding in the front garden each morning as I pour my coffee. They respond with a certain interested aloofness. I know we’ll make contact again as I drive down to fetch the mail and they’re crossing the road.
Sometimes I remind myself of those commercials, “young homebuyers becoming their parents”. Particularly the one in the grocery store. I’ve gotten to know quite a few of the staff because, well, I have tended to go more often than I should. Lately, though, I’ve consolidated my trips at Elizabeth’s request, so we have to get “caught up”. I’m practically on a first name basis with folks in the deli, several cashiers, and one young man that been particularly good at picking winning scratch tickets for Her Ladyship. We were on a roll for a couple of weeks – ten dollars here, fifteen there. Not enough to buy our Lottery Dream House, but enough to keep the fun going and our imaginations running wild. Just the other day, we contemplated, if we won the big one, purchasing a seaside cottage in the UK in South Devon, because a couple of our crime shows are filmed there and the scenery is truly spectacular. We won’t be buying in any of the Midsomer villages, though – way too many folks get “done in”.
This morning, I was supposed to go to a medical appointment. Now, I could have gone, but there’s an inch of snow on the road and I’m comfortably ensconced writing this with a cup of coffee, so I’m thinking . . . . . . . no. I’ll get Herself some breakfast in a short while and maybe venture out later, when the roads are clear, to get a newspaper and possibly to do some shopping. Of maybe not. Life is “fabulous” that way. I received a note about condo association business, and as I’m no longer on the board, I sent it on to my successor. A grand feeling. He asked if I’m enjoying “retirement”, and issued an offer to come back if I get bored – there’s an open seat. Thanks, but not yet. Life right now is too fabulous!
I'm Thinking...No! 