A MOVING EXPERIENCE

As I watched the leaves raining down in the forest behind my son and daughter-in-law’s home in Fairfax, VA, I saw two red foxes frolicking and enjoying the Fall weather. Happily, I had flown in a day ahead of the bad weather, that hit the whole Country, two days before Thanksgiving.
Finally, I had time for contemplation and a badly needed rest, and some fun.

As most of you know, on October 25th my house went on the market at 2 p.m. and on October 26th, at noon, the realtor called and said, “Your house sold at full price!” On November 1st, I took possession of my apartment in the Senior Residence, HACIENDA AT THE CANYON, and I moved the last of my furniture and boxes in on November 12th.

By that time, I felt like the kid in “ The Exorcist.” My head was spinning. Only my wonderful friends Mimi and Yvonne made it bearable. Mimi is ex Navy and knows how to keep things moving and in ship shape, and she is a technology whiz kid. Yvonne can build shelves and go through boxes faster than a Road Runner chasing a lizard.

Besides, the stress of the move, I also managed to damage my 79,000 mile, 14 year old, without- a dent-or-scratch-for-14 years—Saturn. It really wasn’t all my fault! I had reasoned (which was my first mistake) that I could drive an alternate route around my apartment building to get to the front lobby. However, I discovered that sometimes you just can’t get to the other side.

So, I was driving down the street, past a covered parking area, and suddenly found myself on a small brick road. Where is Dorothy when you need her? However, there was a big pit with gas lines right in my path. Consequently, I had the choice of hitting the gas lines and blowing up the joint (which has been under construction for 21/2 years, and isn’t quite finished yet) or scraping the side of my little car on a wall. So, scrape I did as workers ran out of the building and stared and pointed before they backed my car back out of the tight place—avoiding gas line catastrophe.

I thanked them in Spanish and was happy that no one fell to his knees to beg me not to speak his language.  I did however ask (in English) “Why isn’t there  a construction zone barrier and/or sign to inform people not to drive here?  The answer was, “Someone moved it!”

Okay, so while I was enjoying a week with my kids (Yes, my daughter-in-law is now one of my kids) my car was having a $500 cosmetic makeover. Not so bad.  I recently saw a commercial that a Nintendo game only costs $300. So, that is an argument for birth control, but I digress.

The bottom line is that life happens…the good, the bad and the not so pretty.  I have chosen to move on and am happy that I have done so.  I love my new apartment, and enjoy meeting all of the nice people who are also moving in. All of us had beautiful homes that we had to sell, and we are in the same boat.  The only problem is remembering all of those names!
I write them down. That helps unless you put the name with the wrong face—every time.

So it goes.  I wish all of you a Happy Holiday Season. “May the sun shine on your face and the wind be at your back.” unless you are taking a shower.

Esther Blumenfeld

PACK UP ALL YOUR CARES AND WOES

By now, most of you know that I have been right sizing in preparation of my imminent move to the newly built, "Hacienda at the Canyon Senior Residence.” It’s been over two years in the making with numerous construction delays, and I have been watching the slow progress from across the street, because that’s where I live. In the meantime, I have been disposing and packing, and every closet and shelf in my house is filled with boxes.

Of course, there are many ways to pack. When stowing stuff in suitcases for an airplane ride there are weight and size limits, as well as rules that tell you, what you can and cannot pack.
Also, I always try to pack my purse as light as possible, but I never really succeed.

Years ago, when my husband, Warren and I lived in San Diego, friends invited us to go sailing with them on their boat. Warren asked me to pack a lemon in my handbag in case he got seasick. It was a smooth sailing day and no one got sick, but when we docked it was definitely time for a drink. Warren ordered a scotch on the rocks with a twist of lemon. The chagrined waiter said, “I’m sorry, Sir, but we are out of lemons.  “Not to worry,” I replied, as I pulled one out of my purse. The amazed waiter said, “Wow!” what else do you have in there?

When we lived in a tiny apartment in Chicago, we invited the whole family to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. Because the weather had turned very bad and the roads were icy, My in-laws took the commuter train.They arrived with two suitcases filled with mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, stuffing, biscuits and apple pie. The smell must have driven everyone on the train mad with desire.

Packing food obviously ran on that side of the family, because when Warren was invited to give a lecture in Boston he arrived home with a lobster packed in ice, and when he came home from San Francisco, he pulled a loaf of  sour dough bread out of his briefcase.  Not very romantic, but delicious. I shouldn’t have been surprised with my gifts because this was the man who, when he was a teenager, gave his petite, fashionable, mother a basketball for her
birthday. Of course if she couldn’t use it—-.

It’s amazing how much stuff one can accumulate over the years, and how much of it I probably won’t miss. The other day, I found the “What is this?” wedding gift that we never  did figure out what it was meant to do. I hope that Big Brothers and Big Sisters will find a use for it.
Every two weeks they have been picking up donated items from my home. Now, when I call them, I get a cheerful, “Oh, you’re a regular.”

Tomorrow, I will begin to move into my new digs. It's a process and I won't have my furniture in until Nov. 12th.  In the meantime, I’ll pack a few more boxes and a lot more memories to help me on my way.

Cheers,
Esther Blumenfeld

ASSORTED LAUGHS

For years, people have asked me how I find funny things to write about. I guess my mind just tends to bend that way, and humor is my favorite coping mechanism. Listening to what people say helps. For instance, the other day, my friend, Paula told me that she had read an article written by a renowned somebody. He claimed that, “As you get older, one meaningful activity, a day, is enough.” Paula asked me, “Does getting out of bed count?”

When my son, Josh and daughter-in-law, Barbara came for a visit, I was able to show them the apartment that I will be moving into at Hacienda at the Canyon. They were very impressed with my view of the Santa Catalina Mountains. However, since there is still some construction being done, I also have a view of a row of port-a potties. After complaining that I would really like those things moved, I was told that they will be gone as soon as the last touches on the building are finished. So, at a resident’s meeting, I announced that as soon as I move in, I will be selling port-a-potty viewing tickets. Gives a new meaning to “Zip It!”

I am usually good at remembering people’s names as long as I write them down in my notebook. I am now confronted with many new neighbors and have written names down as fast as I can. Unfortunately, I packed the damn book!

Right now, my mind is occupied with putting my house on the market, preparing for the move and keeping track of everything written in my calendar. So, I thought that taking a break would be good for me, and went to see a movie with my friend, Jane, who is a member of the Loft Cinema. After we purchased our tickets, I saw a fellow handing out free popcorn to members, and he said, “Hi, Esther!” He really looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place him. He said, “You don’t remember who I am do you?” I said, “Of course, I do, Joe!” (He was wearing a name tag), and then it hit me. Joe was the actor who played the lead in my play, UNDER MIDWESTERN STARS that had a staged reading in Tucson a year ago..A YEAR AGO! The role was based on my Father.

When I got home, I e-mailed Joe an apology. “Of course, I know who you are, but I was taken aback when I saw my Father giving out popcorn at the Loft Cinema, and at first I did not recognize you off stage.  It’s like seeing my proctologist at the grocery store squeezing melons. Who is that masked man?  Please forgive me.”

Joe did not take offense other than being compared to my proctologist, but I comforted him by saying that my doctor retired immediately after my colonoscopy.

 Well, that’s how my mind works, and it is stimulated by events such as a recent newspaper headline, “Hot Ideas On Fish-Farming and Braless Fashion Recognized.” The article stated that,”A Tucson start-up to help fish farmers boost production, and a clothing company to help women go comfortable braless shared in a $25,000.00 Grand Prize sponsored by UAVenture Capital.” Another company won a $1000.00 prize for their drones that can pollinate tree crops.

I was thinking that maybe the drones could also have an uplifting affect on the braless clothes. I would have pitched that idea to the judges. So goes my brain.

Esther Blumenfeld

POST IT ON YOUR FOREHEAD

I never found it plausible when, in a scary movie, some guy is hiding in the backseat of your car, and, as soon as you get in, he sits up and yells, “Drive!” First of all, when I unlock my car door, I usually toss my heavy purse into the backseat, which would elicit a loud  OW! And, if anyone is in the backseat of my car, I always know it, because, invariably, he puts his head in my mirror’s sight line.

I always know when kids are in my car, because one of them usually kicks the back of my seat, and the others are fighting to sit by the window. And, all children are programmed to say, “Are we there yet?”

Toddlers sit in elevated car seats, and even when babies are sleeping, you can smell them—a sweet  (or not so sweet) baby smell, and they cry, coo or babble. Also, babies travel with more paraphernalia than a movie star with an entourage.

I never needed a reminder when my son was in the car, because I enjoyed his company—even when he was a teenager and didn’t especially want to be seen with me. However, nowadays some people are so pre-occupied, when they are driving, that they can’t see, or hear, or remember that someone is in the car with them. However,  I’ll bet they would never leave their smart phone behind.

Consequently, by 2025 (if climate change hasn’t washed away, or melted, all of the cars on the road) new vehicles in the U.S. will come with electronic reminders that drivers should check their back seats, so they don’t leave anyone (including their own children), behind when they get on with their, “Oh, so busy day.”

I don’t know how people, who leave their children in cars, can find a 3-hour parking space available—anywhere in a busy city. And, I am sure that most of them would never get away with doing that to their dogs, because a lynch mob would be waiting for them when they got back.

So, auto makers are taking the responsibility, that parents should take, to remind them to care for their children. Only Tesla didn’t agree to install backseat reminders. I guess they figure that if you can afford a Tesla, you can afford to leave your kid home with a nanny.

The U.S. House of Representatives is considering a bill to pursue legislation that requires auto companies to take the steps, that parents won’t do, to protect children. That means that if something happens to a child, when left in a car,  the auto maker will be held accountable.

If I were an automaker, I’d put a loud speaker in every car, and if a person forgets  that a child is in the back seat, the speaker would yell, in many decibels, for the whole neighborhood to hear, “You freaking jackass. You forgot your child!”

That should do it!

Esther Blumenfeld

A CELEBRATION

It’s been a long time since I was invited to a birthday party for a two-year old. The little fellow was very polite as he greeted each guest. He didn’t even grab the gifts.  Of course he looked spiffy for the occasion. He was so delighted when his brother arrived, and the little tykes ran around, and around the room.  

The adults played Trivia, and I won a bag of candy when I answered the question, “What was the dog of Chinese Royalty?” The answer:  “Pekingese.” Of course, those dogs must have been named after Peking.  Was there a Emperor named “Pe?”

After the game, we called the little fellow to come into the room so we could sing, “Happy Birthday” to him, and then we ate little cupcakes. He didn’t get any!

Oh, I forgot to mention that “Murphy” is an English Spaniel with long eyelashes and longer silky ears. He also has a pedigree. I think that’s like a degree from Cambridge. I don’t know if he has an English accent, because I didn’t hear him bark.

And, how good would you be at “Doggy Trivia?”

Woof!  Woof!  Gotcha!

Esther Blumenfeld