vibrating heaven . . .

got the call yesterday, telling us the recliner would be delivered the next day between 9 - 11. Happy, happy. So bright and early I am up moving all those darn boxes and bags yet once more, to make room for the chair. 8:45 am, the doorbell rings . . . it is the furniture guys. I am so excited I throw open the door forgetting about the alarm which is now screeching it's silly brains out, waking the entire neighborhood. My first dorkism for the day. Nice men . . . they carry it upstairs and set it up for me and skedaddle. Oh, tappity, tappity, tap!!! I am giddy.

Katie who is not so happy to be up at this hour of the morning let alone trying to get ready for her first dermatological body scan has done some fast scrambling to avoid strange men, inquisitive cats and obnoxiously gleeful mothers.

Speaking of inquisitive cats, Snoop of course is still hiding from the intrusion of the delivery men, but Moak . . . he has wandered upstairs nose a quiver. As I announce to the world that this will be a non-cat chair, Katie is not so silently snickering. Moak is a seat snuggler from way back. But I, evil person that I am, have a plan. As soon as I catch him nesting, I will hit the vibrator. Ha! No more cat. However, should I hit the heat button by mistake all will be lost and Moak will become a permanent fixture leaving only in the dead of night in search of munchies and libation.

Frank has also wandered up and claimed nesting rights. I doubt turning on the vibrator will deter him as it certainly has done nothing but improve my disposition and make me want to purr with contentment. Giddy, I say. GIDDY!!!!!

oooooooh, I lied again. . .

Yesterday, we headed out looking for a recliner for the room I promised I wouldn't mention again. Oops. I want one in the corner for two reasons. 1. I want a cubby for reading. A nice snugly chair: a quiet place. And, 2. Frank comes up in the morning with his coffee, reads the paper and snoozes, all to keep me company while I do my thing. I love his company even if we do occasionally fight over whether the ceiling fan is on or not. I love moving air. It makes him crazy. So when he makes me nuts, I turn it on to 747 speed. So subtle . . . .not. And he leaves.

I get off topic so easily . . . sigh. So we go to the first store. ACK! A huge display of Swedish chairs with foot stools. No, no, no. They cost a fortune, they look bizarre and take up too much space. Next area. Leather recliners. I stick to leather. Must be the only human on the face of the earth that hates leather seats in cars. Maybe I am just naturally sticky. Next area: Granny chairs. You know, every one's great grandmother had one. A small rocker recliner with a skirt . . . usually in tweed, plaid or chintz. I am not into skirts. Next: Humongous overstuffed monsters. OMG, I sat in the first one and thought I was going to be sucked down a rabbit hole to have dinner with the queen. If airplane seats were this big, there would be just one per aisle. But honestly, we would have to build another room, just to house it. Pass. I am getting desperate, the sales lady is looking ragged, Frank has disappeared and nothing appeals to me. NOTHING. So I apologize profusely, track down the missing and we head to store two.

Big sign screaming from the front door. RECLINERS. I make a beeline hoping to out run the sales guy and have a little time to look on my own. Frank runs interference. And, there it is! Love at first sight across a crowded room. It comes in beige or blue, wide whale chenille (is there such a thing). Soft and comfy. Perfect. But what is this cord. Oh Lord, I am coming home. It has a massage/heat system. Hook, line and sinker, I am hopelessly snookered. Frank and I dicker over color and choose the blue. It will be delivered on Wednesday. Happy, happy, happy.

Side note to Katie: Your father tried a new technique and got the delivery charge expunged without blowing a gasket or embarrassing me into the next county.

spent the morning . . .

reclaiming my bedroom!!! During the process of notching out a space for me, all of the contents of the loft needed to go elsewhere and elsewhere they did . . . into the hall, my bedroom, the bathroom, Katie's room. No where was sacred. So for a week you heard a lot of nasty words from the bedroom as we stubbed toes, bruised shins, caromed off walls trying to dodge STUFF. My klutz factor went sky high.

I am happy to say, the bags are gone, the room rearranged and the first three layers of dust have been swallowed up by my Dyson Animal. I had to smack it on the back a few times as it choked and sputtered. It deserves a medal for going above and beyond the call of duty. We are still not peeking under the bed. That can wait for cleaning level two.

I moved the flea market pictures to their new home over the bed. I know, who in their right mind A) takes pictures at a flea market B) actually develops them and C) hangs them in broad daylight. So I am odd. I love shots of old buckets, wooden spindles, milk cans, etc. They make me happy.

Tomorow I reclaim the bathroom.

goodbye old friend . . .

there comes a time . . . when you have no hunger, when you are in pain . . . when you can find no comfort . . . no solace or joy . . . when life is a cage for your ravished body . . . it is time to let go and with a little help and held by she who loves you most, go over the bridge . . . You will always be in my heart Bru, always.

holding my breath . . .

Frank is putting the second coat of paint on my new room and by this afternoon I will be able to divest my bathroom and bedroom of all the bags and boxes that belong in the loft and wait ever so impatiently for the six weeks it will take for the cabinetry to come in. In the meantime with the room so freshly painted, the window and screen look oh so miserably grubby. What's a body to do? The screen is easy to remove, take downstairs and scrub in the driveway but the outside of the windows . . . that is a whole other story . . . as in second story . . . as in hovering over the pool deck . . . as in concrete. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, so there I am outside the window, balancing on the cage beams, Windex in hand, hoping my will is up-to-date. EEK.

And to everyone's delight, this will be the last post on my room until mid September. Thanks one and all for putting up with my ramblings on this topic.

before and after

I am soooooo glad Katie has her little nest . . . but oooooooooooh what a mess I have. That's Katie's dust mop, "Moaky" in the background. OK. no comments about my housekeeping abilities!!!!

Can anyone spy Michelle's flamingo in the before shot????

yesterday was two days long . . .

I set my cell alarm for 6:30 and my alarm clock for 7:00. This was the big day. Katie was taking possession of her new apartment. I am too old and gray for this . . . my schlepping days are over. We hired a moving company. 7:30 they appeared at our door. Katie and I stuck around long enough to answer any questions and took off ahead of them, leaving Frank to handle that end. We signed her life away. (I am still thinking the last paragraph asked for her first born). Grabbed the keys and headed for her apartment. Let me tell you, it is G O R G E O U S. How come I was sharing my first couple of apartments with beady eyed creatures of the night? Anyway, we unpacked what we had brought, which mostly consisted of bathroom supplies and Gatorade. Priorities, you know. And settled in to wait for the moving company. They made great time which pleased me no end since we were paying by the hour. They were great. Got her set up and were gone. We waited for the cable guy, the futon guy and our free pizza, compliments of the apartment complex, while finding homes for her belongings. Then we waited for Frank who was coming up to pick me up. Instant digression: We have a saying in our house: "By the time we get to the end of the driveway, Frank is lost and I have forgotten where we were going". So you know where this is headed. Frank calls LOST. I hand the phone to Katie because she knows the area. She keeps telling him to pull over and we will come get him. Nope. He is a man. He will not listen. He is happily driving around who knows where. Finally he says he sees the mall and pulls over near Mimi's. Mimi's just happens to be our favorite restaurant up there. So I tell him stay put, get us a table, we are headed over for dinner. Yummy food. A quick stop at Target for some necessities, a stop at Publix for goodies for the pantry and fridge and back to the apartment for more unpacking. At 11:00 pm I am exhausted and we call it quits and head home. 1:00 am, wine glass in hand, I think how totally worth it is is to have Katie one happy camper.