And once again, just like that…

 We no longer have the vintage Victorian prairie-style home in the Hill Country. Last week was the closing  on that big old home which has a new family now. I wish them happiness in that 113-year-old house and decades of memories on those 23 acres.

On New Year’s Eve of last year, we were driving around a small town after going to an early-morning farmers’ market. My husband started driving thru older subdivisions which had massive trees and custom homes and yards with a few acres rather than quarter-acre plots. We saw houses for sale, nice homes that were well-cared-for and distinctive in style. “I think it’s time to move… that big house and all that property is getting to be too much to handle,” he said.

What?!?!?  I had been telling him that for the past five years. I asked him if he was serious. “Look on your phone and find a realtor in this area. That’s how serious I am.”  And that’s what I did…. a Google search on realtors…. found a photo of a friendly-looking agent… and made an appointment for the day after New Year’s.  When we got home from the farmers’ market, I started taking down the Christmas tree and packing the holiday decorations for a truck-move, not just a walk-to-the-storage-closet move. My get-me-out-of-this-country-nightmare adrenaline had kicked in.

And so it began, the house-hunting to find a home the size of the one we had left in Clear Lake when we just had to move to the Hill Country because my husband dreamed of owning property away from hurricane evacuation zones. We looked at approximately 75 houses on-line, and visited about a dozen homes which passed my husband’s Google Earth test. The realtor was very patient.

While the Google Earth searches were going on, I sold everything that I knew we wouldn’t have room for in a smaller house. Rather than one huge yard sale, I did five or six smaller sales… and what didn’t get sold was given away. And then I began packing… and packing… and packing. Downsizing is not for sissies.

We have a beautiful custom-built home with updated bathrooms and a fabulous kitchen… high ceilings and tall windows…. and the windows weren’t painted shut 80 years ago. Two acres of yard and trees, with a front porch and a back porch, and a backyard all fenced-in for the dogs. A small town with a city vibe… lots of stores and shopping centers and ethnic restaurants.

Our last move. Truly our last move. I hope to never see another packing box and a giant roll of tape. I feel absolutely blessed that we sold that property and bought this small slice of serenity.

And just like that….

 ….we’re moving… to another house in a different town. My husband made the decision just this past Christmas and we started looking at houses on New Year’s Eve. I started packing boxes on New Year’s Day. Just like that. We have not yet found a house that we both like, but I am still packing. I’ve had five yard sales for the things that I know we will not be taking with us… we are looking for a smaller house, one without a guest cottage and a barn and so many acres.

My husband decided that the two-hour drive to Houston was one-hour too much now, and he is not ready to give up teaching and retire. He also came to the conclusion that living in a 116-year-old three-story home is a life-long commitment to never-ending maintenance. 

I have already said my goodbyes to this big old house that I fell in love with at first sight. I couldn’t wait to get here and decorate this fabulous adult-sized dollhouse. Original stained-glass and leaded-glass windows, original floors with Art Deco designs on the stair landings and in the dining room and living room. The back staircase from the kitchen… and the stairs going up to my third-floor library. It was all so magical, and so much like the house I grew up in when I was a kid. We filled this home with antiques from my husband’s mother and my grandmother, and treasures we found along the way. And I did truly love this home. Once upon a time, before I realized that the neighbor who raises baby goats uses them for lunch and dinner, and those tiny goats cry like a human baby as they are caught and slaughtered. And every sound can be heard from my porch. You would think that 23 acres would muffle the sounds of the goats but the distance only amplifies them. I have not sat on the porch in over ten years. Ditto for the gazebo.

I also said goodbye to this house after my sister passed away. I had dreams of her coming here so I could show her what life was like in the beginning. She was too young to know our lives before we left our big house in Queens and moved to that little apartment. I wanted her to know. I wanted her to understand. But after she was gone, it didn’t matter. Neither did anything else, most of the time. I would give anything to change what happened. I would even stay here, right here in this dollhouse, to have her back.

So. We look at house listings all week long, and drive to see the best of them on the weekends. The homes I love are not the ones my husband loves. The houses he loves are not the ones where I want to spend the rest of my years. We want this to be our last move, so we are being cautious. I don’t want to move again. We keep saying that the next home will be our last.

The living room, foyer, and dining room are filled with packed and labeled boxes. This week, I start on the second floor. My library will be packed last. We don’t know exactly where we are moving, but when we find the right home, I will be ready. So ready. And I will not look back once we’re gone.

Another April….

 Hard to believe that it’s been a whole year since I have written in here. Life in the country bubble has gone on as usual. One day is pretty much the same as the one before. I still have the weekly Book Club with the neighbor’s home-schooled kids, and that’s been very successful and worthwhile. Both for me and the kids. They are calling it the never-ending book club because they want it to last forever. 

Another generation has been added to our family tree, with the children of my cousins having babies now and making those cousins grandparents many times over. New faces at the kids’ table for holiday dinners. 

My husband planted tomatoes out in the garden last month, with the hopes that the armadillo population here doesn’t destroy the plants. The same goes for flowers we planted in parts of the yard. We should have just sprinkled wildflower seeds in the flowerbeds… the bluebonnets were vibrant and prolific this month. For two or three weeks every Spring, our fields fill up with wildflowers that are blindingly beautiful. Then the tall grasses take over, the wildflowers go to seed, and we hope for a colorful display the following year.

The virus circus has just about worn itself out. I still shake my head over the non-questioning attitude of the great majority of people in this world. Like lemmings into the sea, they all (or mostly all) went. Well, fine. People did what they thought was best at the time. But I have to wonder what they’re thinking now.

The current president and his administration continues to be an embarrassment (and a danger) to this country. I can’t even get upset with that man because he is not well, not lucid. And once again, I have to wonder what his voters think of him now.

And me. Life goes on. I am no longer fighting against this house and this property. I still love this house but I wish it were anywhere but here in this country bubble. My husband loves this property and is not ready to move. He is still teaching and isn’t ready to retire. He is doing what he loves and he is very good at it.

I had my 70th birthday this year. A hard number to grasp. Wasn’t I just 17? And 37? How did it all go by so quickly? Seven decades. I wish I could re-do a few of those decades. Hopefully, given the chance, I would make different choices. Better choices that wouldn’t be haunting me now. When I turned 40, my sister went into a tail-spin because I was “so old.”  I didn’t think I was old at 40, and I don’t even think I am old now. But still, that number is a bit scary. And my sister. She didn’t live to see her 60th birthday. I would do just about anything to have her back. The loss of her haunts me every day. Time does not heal all wounds. The wounds just get deeper, and they hurt all the more.

Mid-April....

 ....and this country is on its way to being unrecognizable. So very sad. We have an invisible and mindless president. Not to mention a sorely unqualified vice-president. And a Speaker Of The House straight out of  the depths of hell. The media has taken the reins of control and is turning every situation into a racial mountain of unfathomable proportions that will be judged by social media groups before it even gets to the courts. But wait.... the mob that is currently in charge may do away with the court system, so it may not even matter.

The new administration has opened the borders wide... letting everyone in... are they being checked for health problems? Criminal-record background checks? I have nothing against immigration.... my grandparents came to this country the same way... to have a better life, to live safely and become Americans. Legally. They did everything by the book. They took nothing from the government and they fulfilled their dreams for themselves and their family. They did not come here with their arms extended for a hand-out... they came with their hands open and ready to work for what they wanted and needed. 

But we are told to wear masks.... just shut up and cover your face. Not this puppy. I have long given up on their so-called pandemic. Does anyone remember the flu/virus of Obama’s term that killed nearly a hundred thousand people but was not in the media midst of the nightly news? Isn’t anyone looking at the statistics for this particular virus? Or wondering how a vaccine was concocted in such a short time? Is everyone just following along like lemmings? Has everyone lost their sense of freedom and free speech and “the pursuit of happiness?”

As I said... not this puppy.

All I know is this... there isn’t enough chocolate or tea in this world to make things better.  And this is why I read. And read. And read.

Donald Trump was at an event recently and his first words were “Do you miss me yet?”  I don’t have to tell you what my answer would have been. 

Last day of February...

 ....and I have been wishing away this month for weeks now. Just when we thought we would have an easy winter, the weather gods decided to throw everything they had at us. Freezing rain. Ice. Sleet. Snow. Winds. Near-to-zero temperatures. I could have stayed up north for weather conditions such as those we had here. And on many days this month, my cousins in New York had higher temps than the state of Texas.

The wind turbines that the Green-New-Deal idiots believe will save this planet froze up with the snow and sleet and ice... apparently the Texas power grid could not handle the deep freeze without the turbines so millions in the state were without power. And heat. Not to mention running water. We were lucky... we never lost power. We had no running water in the house and in the barn, but the guest cottage had continuously running water, both hot and cold. So we walked to the cottage to use the facilities there. My husband said we had the fanciest outhouse in the county. Which was funny, for a while.

All of my cousins and out-of-Texas friends called or texted or eMailed to see how we were coping. They guessed that my husband could cope well enough with anything short of an apocalyptic catastrophe as long as his computer was working, but their city-girl cousin here was another story. My cousins in Chicago were dealing with the same deep freeze, so no sympathy there, which I wouldn’t have expected. My cousins in New York told me to remember the northern winters that last for three or four months rather than six days. My Florida cousins told me it was 70 degrees there and DisneyWorld was open. And my Arizona cousins.... I told them I was about ready to pack up and join them in the desert.... because it’s a dry heat, after all. And it really is... we have been there when the temp was 114.

One thing is certain and I come to this conclusion every year at one point or another. This Hill Country life is not for me. No matter how much I try and adapt and accept and ‘snap out of it,’ something always happens to turn me into a depressed city girl who does not, not, certainly not, belong here on this property, no matter how much I love this house. I swear to all that is holy that should anything happen to my husband, I will be calling a realtor before I call an undertaker. 

But on the bright side... the kids still come to my house every week for Book Club... they are hard at work and thoroughly enjoying their ‘Book Of Me’ project... and I am working right along with them and loving every minute. The Book Of Me has been a soul-searching and eye-opening experience for me. For the kids, it’s been good old-fashioned fun, as it should be for them.

Benjamin continues to be an outstanding little dog, getting used to the cats and proving that he was meant to be part of this family. Savannah has fully accepted her little brother and as long as their food bowls are put down at the same exact time and placed at least three feet apart, all is good in dog-world.

As for this part of Texas... temps are back to normal... and Summer cannot get here soon enough.

Happy New Year....

 Once again... it’s been a while since I posted. Guess I am just out of the daily and weekly blog habit these days, but I try and keep up from time to time.

Christmas has come and gone, quietly. No party this year... I just wasn’t interested in getting one together. Small dinner with a few friends on Christmas Day, very quiet also.  Very un-Italian, very un-Larrie, very different from all the Christmas Days of the past. We didn’t put up a big tree... but there were all my little trees in every room, so the house did look like a holiday. A quiet holiday. Bah humbug.

The November election has also come and gone, with disastrous results. I do not understand how anyone could have voted for a party who was set to allow babies to not only be aborted at nine months but also to be killed ‘on the table’ after birth. That’s murder, isn’t it?  And people, both dead and alive, voted for that to happen.  The first two days of the new administration, everything that Trump worked tirelessly for was over-turned. Thousands in Pennsylvania will lose their jobs because the Keystone Pipeline has been halted. The US will once again rely on foreign (and sometimes hostile) nations for oil. Billions of dollars will now be spent on bad deals that were signed during Obama’s years in office, which had been fixed to the US’s advantage by Trump, then over-turned immediately when Obama’s third term began a few days ago.  This country will probably never see another Republican president again... mainly because the number of democrats who ‘voted’ in this last election is higher than the actual number of registered democratic voters. They cheated once, they will do it again. 

Happier things... our new (since Thanksgiving) dog Benjamin has fit nicely into our household.... he is the happiest little dog I have ever seen... just happy to be on this planet. My Book Club with the kids is rolling along... we are all working on a project called The Book Of Me. Every page has a question, and the answers are a combination of writing and illustrating. The kids were overwhelmed at first but were really excited by the time we got to the third question. My monthly First Sunday Book Swap with the neighbors will soon be cancelled probably... lack of interest, lack of enthusiasm, lack of a real neighborhood. (“Come on, Charlie Brown, kick the football.”)

Life here has gone to the dogs... Savannah and Benjamin. Two dogs to walk, brush, feed, play with, and love. Mostly love. They are great company for one another, and it seems as if Benjamin has been with us for as long as Savannah has. And the cats... four cats. Benjamin has made friends with Sweet Pea and Julius, but it’s taking longer with Peaches and Zuzu. When I pick up Julius, I tell him “Your momma has two dogs and four cats! She’s crazy!” And Julius purrs and puts his head on my shoulder and his paw on my neck. Maybe I’m not so crazy after all.

Post-Thanksgiving...

Months are flying by so quickly. We had a quiet Thanksgiving here, and every floor of this house is all decorated for Christmas except for the big tree in the dining room. My husband still insists on a fresh tree for the ‘main’ tree. Fresh? More like dead. With zillions of needles falling to the floor as soon as you start adding ornaments. 

The virus circus continues.... although the mask mandate has been lifted in our small town. Which is a blessing in itself. I have had it with the virus and all its implications and restrictions. 

Ditto for the presidential election. The only news programs we watch now are on NewsMax, which is totally unbiased, as a news network should be. This election was a farce. All the ‘winning’ votes for the democrats appeared in the middle of the night... in some states more votes came in than the number of qualified and registered voters. All praise for Rudy Giuliani for trying his best now to get this election over-turned for President Trump. After all the work that Trump has done these past four years, with unrelenting aggression towards him from the democrats, it would be a shame for this country to have his efforts undone by a corrupt political establishment.

On the brighter side... I found a little dog on the road last week. Scruffy, filthy, matted, horrible condition. A neighbor was able to catch him for me and we took him to the vet. He is approximately 4-5 years old, 25 pounds, and as sweet as can be. We had him bathed and shaved... he is a mix of Lhasa Apso and Schnauzer, and when his hair grows back, he will be a beautiful dog. We named him Benjamin, Benji for short... and we are keeping him. As long as we give Savannah extra treats and attention, she is okay with the new arrangement. Benji has to get used to the cats, and vice versa, so for now the cats are sequestered in the TV room, with minimal contact with ‘the new guy.’ 

We do not have children... we have four cats... and now two dogs instead of one. All were rescues. Everyone has a purpose in this world.... saving unwanted pets must be mine. I feel very blessed, and I hope our furry kids feel the same way.