I’m still feeling newly moved.  Not sure why.  Most things are where they will remain, although I do recall thinking that I was placing many items temporarily. For example, bathroom rugs that I planned to replace don’t look so bad, and may yet have another life. 

But there was one item sitting in a corner of my second bedroom/study looking forlorn, still in its shrink wrapping, namely, my paper shredder.  It’s one of those items that doesn’t get much publicity or much love, but it’s been loyal and always gets the job done.

So I unwrapped it—it was more resistant than I thought, but I finally got it free.  I grabbed some shredding needs and turned it on.  At first, nothing.  Then I pushed the lever the other way and it roared into action.

It’s the little things that can make one’s day.

My younger son, Jeremy, is the father of two sons, Leo and Grady, who are now adults (pretty much). One, is a brand-new college grad, the other entering his sophomore year in college. I adore them.

Jeremy’s brother Seth has been a doting uncle throughout their lives. A week ago, that uncle, age 56, became a father himself. And I have a brand new grandson.

Jacob is his name, and he lives far away in Brazil, but he is, and always will be close in my heart.

Brazil is far away, at best a 10-hour flight. You can be sure I will be on one before too long…

I can’t recall ever having been so hot for so long.  Or maybe because I am certifiably old, the heat is harder on my tired body.  My new apartment has a lovely breeze from the Charles River, just across Memorial Drive.  But even that doesn’t get the job done in this heat wave.

So, I spend much of my home time in my air conditioner-cooled study.  Unfortunately, it’s quite conducive to…

Napping. 

Weeks before I bought, and moved into my new apartment, I was invited by friends to visit one of my favorite places, the Marlboro Music Festival in Marlboro, Vermont.  It turned out that a little break from moving was the perfect antidote to chaos. 

I’ve probably mentioned before that our children referred to Peter and me as their “classical-music-loving-parents”.  We made many trips to Vermont for those concerts over the years. Today, the festival setting looks exactly as when I first visited it in 1963 with my previous-to-Peter-boyfriend.

The program, played in the former college’s dining hall, was devoid of any modern sounds—which suited me just fine.  The audience was mostly gray haired; the musicians young and very talented.

 Everyone loved it. 

I had quite a bit to say about my recent move.  (Doesn’t everyone who moves?)  Occasionally, I write blogs to be published later, but on Sunday, I accidentally published the post that was supposed to be today.  Two posts on one day means I can skip a day, so with apologies, no fresh blog post today.

‘til Sunday…

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

So wrote Robert Frost in 1914. My latest move brought that famous quote to mind because I am now “home” in Cambridge again.

I moved to Cambridge from Beacon Hill in 1965, married Peter in 1968, and a year later, we moved to the suburbs. In 1995, with our boys out of college, we moved back and lived in a perfect “empty nester” Cambridge home until we retired, and then moved to a condo near Harvard Square.  Except for the last ten months, Cambridge was my home.

My returned-to-Cambridge-apartment is a mile from where Peter and I lived for twenty years and two blocks from the (condemned and now demolished) apartment building where we lived for five years together, and I lived for one year without him.

It’s great to be back.

The last time I moved, my new dwelling was three years old.  This time my building is 130 years old, and although I love my apartment, there are some issues.

For starters, the garbage disposal doesn’t work, and has no cover, and the plumber has to order something to fix it plus a cover.  That’s something I can live with, but when my raw salmon slipped out of my hand, it descended into the non-working, cover-less disposal.  (I “fished” it out, washed it, and cooked it with some trepidation.  It was still delicious.)

Next came the ants.  With my safety in mind, I had grab bars installed in my shower.  The banging unleashed dozens of ants from somewhere.  I found them crawling all over the tub.  The building superintendent explains “it’s an old building…” He immediately produced ant poison and said they’d be gone in three days.  (Thankfully, I have an extra shower.) And finally (for now), the previous owners must have disliked fresh air, because almost no windows have screens. 

BUT, I have a beautiful balcony overlooking the Charles River, and an honest-to-goodness dining room.

One can’t expect perfection…

According to The New York Times, a new (and affordable) toy is sweeping the country.  Basically, it is a “goop-filled blob” that is squeezable.  The blobs come in endless shapes and colors—the article features a stick-of-butter-shaped blob.

Reportedly, an eight-year-old who regularly resisted getting up for school hopped out of bed at 6:30 a.m so that his mother could take him to Target before school to add the latest shape to his collection.

One can’t help but think of Cabbage Patch Kids and/or Beanie Babies.  

Back in the day…

I am grateful for my lucky life.  But today I want to tell YOU, my amazing blog readers, how grateful I am for you.  You understand how stressful moving is, and your good wishes have been pouring in. 

At this moment, I am down to a few remaining boxes, and once I remember where I too hastily put everything, I’ll be fine.  One thing I know from previous moves is that things put away with the plan to find a better place for them rarely move from their first location. 

So it goes…

80-something followers may recall that in November. 2024, my condo building was found to be unsafe because of inferior construction decades ago.  We residents had four weeks to vacate.

With so little time to look, I moved to a “temporary” apartment where I stayed for eight months.  And then I moved to the independent living part of a continuing care community. 

Two days ago, I moved again. I found living in the woods (though beautiful) with only people of my generation was not for me.

It is well known that moving is one of life’s biggest stressors, but six days ago, I moved back to Cambridge.

Yes, it’s stressful to move.  But I see the Charles River if I sit up in bed, and this morning there was a family of ducks passing by. 

It’s great to be back.