For Sale

The sign went up. The offers came in. We are "under agreement". 

We are moving. I mean, we have to now.

We're flying to Holland on July 6th. 

One month 25 days to go. 

Holy Sh*t


Saturday Night

I hate doing the dishes. Well, that’s not entirely true. I kind of enjoy standing at my sink and observing my neighbors as they pass by my window. The twins down the street are getting so big that their mother no longer puts them on a leash when they take a stroll around the neighborhood. Our newest neighbors got a puppy, they’re very good about picking up it’s poop, which is nice. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve witnessed cars drive through the stop sign on the corner. I always stand on my tiptoes and lean way over the sink to get a better view at the make and model, just in case. 

Tonight, while I was scrubbing macaroni & cheese (organic, of course) out of a pot I looked up in time to spy the neighbor across the street leaving his condo. He lives inside a large victorian that was converted into condos and I’m pretty sure his apartment is the one on the bottom right. I’ve come to that conclusion because the occupant of that unit has a large flat screen tv and they watch it in the dark. Isn’t that something a single guy would do?

He was wearing a crisp white shirt carefully left untucked over a pair of blue jeans with brown docksides. I noticed the time was 6:20 pm and assumed he was heading out for the night. I inhaled deeply imagining I’d catch a whiff of his cologne. He walked, no, strode, to his Jeep with perhaps a bit of nervous energy. A first date? Maybe just a night out with the guys. Either way, a Saturday night full of possibilities.

Sigh. I wished him a good night under my breath and then glanced down at the pot. I’ll just flick off the dried pasta before I use it the next time.  


"I'm not very fond of flying", is a civilized way of saying, "I'm scared to death to fly!" Which I am. Still. After all these years.

I primarily fly internationally so my flights are never less than 6 hours long and that's a lot of time to imagine what those final moments might look like. It plays on a loop in my mind, over & over again and no amount of peanuts or pretzels can pause it.

Every now and then with the help of my Kindle and a small bottle of white wine I almost enjoy flying (I realize that wine doesn't help jet lag but it does help dull my vivid imagination.)

Recently, after an exceptionally bumpy ride across the Atlantic I couldn't help but feel a kind of kinship with my fellow travelers. I mean, we had just survived a near death experience, right? Shouldn't we exchange email addresses? Plan a meet up for next month?

Thinking this,  I wasn't surprised when a woman with a large smile started walking towards me at the baggage carousel. I gave her my best, "I know, we made it" smile and nodded at her. What happened next is hard to explain because I don't understand what came over me but I found myself opening my arms out wide to give her a "survivor's" hug. When I noticed her grin turn into a grimace I realized I had made a serious error. Clearly, I'd mistaken her for a "hugger" instead of a "high fiver" so I raised my right arm up high and waited and waited and well, you get it….

She looked up at my arm with the most confused look on her face.  

Realizing that once again I had misread her I quickly ran my right hand through my hair and then held it out to shake hers.

She then looked at my hand and back up at me and said, "Ma'am, you grabbed my suitcase."  

What? Oh God, there it was, a small piece of pink yarn tied to the handle of a suitcase that wasn't mine. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I guess I missed the yarn, Rough flight, huh?" 

She nodded and walked away.

Only I could survive flying across that large body of water only to die of embarrassment at the luggage turnstile.