Furniture talk

AGMA’s been on the go!

After Meh Las Vegas, we went to Arizona. That trip covered the Grand Canyon, Phoenix & Tucson. We call it the Thumbs Up Arizona trip!

Then we had friends come to visit from Kansas City. That was fun. It felt a bit like life might be returning to normal.

I know AGMA’s a dreamer…

Now we’re in Atlanta for a week. Actually, the week’s almost over.

We leave tomorrow.

AGMA is back at her favorite coffee shop, Dancing Goats. It’s still not back to normal even through Georgia’s governor, Brian “no water for you” KKKemp declared that, since Georgia is at the bottom (or close to it) of list in states by vaccination rate, he was opening up everything at full capacity.

OMG.

Thankfully, some businesses are wary of throwing the doors wide open and letting the 71% of Georgians not vaccinated in to crowd around their staff. My Dancing Goats is still being cautious so most of the inside seating is still not available.

I’m sitting outside, but I’m still getting the creative “Goats vibe” so the words are veritably pouring out of me.

Actually, it’s more of a dribble, but AGMA will take it!

We have been staying with our fully vaccinated son and his unvaccinated two cats.

Our son lives alone (other than the cats) and has lived alone for the past 14 years. He is not used to sharing his space with anybody (other than the cats.) It took a bit of convincing for him to let us stay there, but I think he’s discovered that we are pretty undemanding and quiet guests.

Still, tomorrow probably can’t some soon enough for him.

We are sleeping in his guest room. It’s furnished with a chair & ottoman, a dresser, and a bed. A full sized bed.

A.Full.Sized.Bed.

COVID has been rough on AGMA and hubs in terms of our lack of exercise. And no lack of “treating” ourselves (I mean, it was COVID right?) as far as eating goes. And it shows.

We are extra full sized people crammed in a full sized bed.

It’s been hell.

AGMA had no idea they still sold full sized mattresses. I am going to write to my Congressional representatives upon my return home and demand that they introduce legislation outlawing the sale of full sized mattresses for use by more than 1 individual. I bet the GQP’s Marjorie Taylor Greenweinie would love to waste more of Congress’ time with that one…

But honestly, it’s cruel punishment to put 2 “jolly” people in a bed that size.

There is nothing special about the chair & ottoman. But the chest of drawers (picture above)…now that is a special piece of furniture!

Yeah – I can probably guess what you’re thinking…

“But AGMA, it looks so tacky & beat up! How could that be special?”

Well, for a start, AGMA is a bit tacky & beat up. So I relate to it.

But this chest of drawers is the last remaining piece of furniture from the bedroom set Hubs and I bought waaaaayyyyy back in 1978 as two young 20 somethings. We bought what was known as an ‘apartment set’. It had a sofa & loveseat, a coffee table & 2 end tables, a dining table with 4 chairs, a QUEEN bed, chest of drawers, dresser with mirror and 2 night stands.

I think it cost us all of $1200. Our paychecks back then were so meager, we had to pay it off in installments.

The chest is made of real wood. Imagine! And it’s incredibly heavy and well made.

Wait for it….

They just don’t make things now a days like they used to. (Wink)

Oh, but the stories this chest of drawers could tell.

It has watched us age from a young married couple, to a family with young children, to a family with teenagers, to being empty nesters, to a separation, to a reconciliation, and into our early senior years.

It has heard our most intimate, loving conversations. Our hopes and dreams for the future. It saw us get up and down multiple times a night to feed hungry babies or comfort sick children. It’s listened to the wonder of our young son’s voices as they came to get us to tell us Santa came or the Easter Bunny had been there or that they had a quarter under their pillow from the Tooth Fairy. It’s heard prayers for the safety of teenage drivers, college students away from home, young adults trying to find jobs, love and a place in this crazy world. Prayers of hope and thankfulness and even some of desperation.

It’s felt me reach in its drawers for skinny clothes, fat clothes, maternity clothes, more fat clothes, more skinny clothes, etc.

It’s also witnessed tears shed at the loss of elderly parents, at the loss of dear pets, at a home empty of children. Tears shed in sadness/anger/frustration of complicated marriage, family and friend relationships.

AGMA likes to think that, most of all, it heard more laughter and happy voices than anything else. Saw smiling faces and witnessed unconditional love.

I had forgotten we gave the chest to him about 10 years ago when we moved from Atlanta to St. Louis.

It was a bit of a jolt to see it again.

I normally live out of a suitcase when I travel, but I put my clothes in the chest drawers my son had cleared out for us. And every time I touch it to open and close the drawers, I ask it to tell me a story. Maybe one I’ve forgotten (there are a whole lot, AGMA’s pretty sure) about a time long ago when 2021 seemed like an eternity away and life seemed like it would go on forever the way it was. Stories about the person I used to be.

And it just stands there and tells me not to be concerned about the stories that happened long ago. It tells me that there are still good stories I have yet to live. And I need to get busy living them.

Good advice from an old friend who’s known AGMA a long time.

Control freak

 

ControlFreakMeme

Source:  RotteneCards

Okay, I know this is going to sound morbid, but AGMA’s started gathering the pictures I want displayed at my funeral/memorial/celebration of life service.

Ewwww…  Who does that?

Note of disclosure:  There is no imminent threat of my departing this life anytime time soon that I am aware.  No new medical diagnosis or forebodings. Nothing (other than the normal ‘I could step out on a street and get hit by a car’ notion) that would lead me to believe I need to hurry up and get my affairs in order.

AGMA’s just a bit of a control freak.

I was trying to sort out the junk we have in our 4th floor closets.  Since we live in a townhouse with no basement, but a finished top level, the 4th floor has become what our basements used to be…  The place of collection of our precious belongs.

You know, the junk.

Found…a Lladro figurine collection.  They’ve been in a box since 2010.  Also found….the chachkies/pictures we had on our built-in bookcases two houses ago.  They’ve been in a box since 2010 too.

AGMA can’t say that I’ve missed them.

We have two walk-in closets on the 4th floor.  The wire shelving in both have collapsed and ripped out of the wall from the weight of the myriad of boxes I stacked on them.

Oops…

I haven’t told Hubs yet.

So in trying to bring order out of chaos before informing Hubs, I started digging into some of the boxes that fell.  There was one with shoeboxes – soooo many shoeboxes – of pictures from 1963 to the early 2000’s in them.

Of course, AGMA couldn’t resist a stumble down memory lane.

Fresh on my mind was my old friend Scott.  Scott had been a friend of Hubs and I since college.  He was younger than us by a few years and full of energy, life, fun and mischief.

In the days before social media, for all of you young whippersnappers out there, the annual Christmas/holiday letter via snail mail was our version of a timeline.  Far flung friends got brought up to date with our lives over the preceding year through this annual ritual.

And so it was with Scott after we graduated.  For 30+ years, we communicated once a year with him.

Then, in 2011, we started making annual trips back to Tucson to visit my MIL and old friends still living there.  Like Scott.

We were delighted to discover that he was much the same – full of energy, life, fun and mischief.  30+ years older, yes, but with a positive outlook on life that was contagious.  He was like Peter Pan – the boy who never really grew up.  We always looked forward to visiting Scott, and hearing about his latest adventures and plans for the future.

Our last visit to Tucson was this past October.  We a lovely evening with Scott and his new wife.  I felt like he’d finally found his soul mate.  We had a great time with them.

Last week, we heard through a friend that Scott was in hospice.  WTF?  Two days later his wife let us know that Scott had passed away.

He was only 62.

So while AGMA was looking through those old pictures on the 4th floor, my heart was heavy at the sudden loss of our friend.  And I started wondering what his memorial service would be like.

I hope that it will be fun and uplifting just like Scott was.  And full of images from his life which was a wonderful mix of adventure, service to the less fortunate and family.  Hubs is going and will give me a full report when he gets back.

But then I started wondering what AGMA’s ‘celebration of life’ might be like.  Not in a morbid sense; more curious than anything else.   And what kind of images there will be to show the highlights/lowlights (gotta keep it real) of AGMA’s time on earth to those who come to party.  Because it WILL be a party.

Oh no – this is just too important to leave up to Hubs and sons…  They’re guys and wouldn’t have a clue.

So I started putting ‘AGMA approved’ pictures aside for that final hoorah.

I can hear the announcement at the memorial now, “AGMA selected all of the pictures in this montage of her life many years ago because she was such a freaking CONTROL FREAK!”

That’s cool…

At least I know I’ll look cute.

RIP sweet Peter Pan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old friends

washer

When Son#2 was around 4, our dishwasher died. Feeling rather panicked at the idea of…OMG no…hand washing all of our dishes, AMGA and Hubs went out to purchase a new one immediately. When the delivery/installation people pulled out the dead dishwasher and hauled it away, Son#2 started wailing.

Evidently he and the dishwasher had a ‘special relationship’. Like Putin and Cheeto Man.

Only the passage of time and M&M’s managed to calm him down. It took about 15 minutes. I think he liked the look of the new dishwasher.

4 year olds tend to be a bit fickle.

Once upon at time, AMGA laughed at what’s become known as “the dishwasher incident”.

Not anymore… I get it now.

Some of AGMA’s best friends are machines.

Take Goldie for example.

Goldie is my 2008 Toyota Prius. I bought her in September of 2007 after I was T-boned in my 2006 Prius – Bluie – on I-75 at about 50mph.

The good news was that AGMA was basically unharmed from the accident. The bad news is that Bluie was totaled.

(Can you guess the colors my last two cars? AGMA’s creativity is simply astounding and can’t be contained… I’m like an American Dali.)

So I’ve had Goldie for nearly 11 years. That is the longest I’ve ever owned a car. It’s 25% of my car owning life.

I feel old.

AGMA tends to take my cars for granted. I get Goldie regular oil changes and check-ups, but other than that, I basically ignore her.

My interior looks like I am homeless, and live in my car. On any given day you can find a treasure trove of banana peels, energy bars, half empty coffee cups, a plethora of napkins from Starbucks, mail, a variety of plastic utensils, salt and pepper packets, 15 reusable shoppings, empty soda cans and used dental floss (ewww…) in her interior.

There’s a large chocolate spot in the rear hatch back carpet area (spilled mocha), the carpet under the gas pedal is thread bare. Her glove compartment is stuffed with oil change receipts that date back to 2008.

But despite my treatment of her, Goldie has been very, very good to me. She’s been the most dependable mode of transport I’ve ever had. And she hasn’t been fussy at all.

Plus, she gets killer gas mileage – 48mpg. Her hybrid battery, that was supposed to last only 7 years, has far exceeded expectations.

Which is exactly why AGMA is thinking that it might be time to start looking around for a late model used car.

Shhhh – don’t tell Goldie.

Truth be told, I’d love to have a car with all that hands free stuff and blue tooth and the internet and the loud alarms that let you know you’re too close to the mailbox when you’re backing up.

My son and DIL have a car that parallel parks itself! WHAT?? Yeah it does!

But then I look at Goldie. And I realize that she’s a lot like me. Not fancy, not flashy, not a lot of bells and whistles. But sturdy, dependable, cute in a 2008 way and wears her mileage well.

I’m pretty attached to her. I’m real attached to her actually.

I think it might be love.

And then there’s AGMA’s washing machine and dryer.

We bought them waaaayyy back in 1995. Well before the advent of high efficiency (HE) front loading washers.

There’s something about those front loaders that I don’t trust.

My son and DIL have one, and I watch it sometimes when I’m visiting.

Seriously.

It just sort of tosses the clothes around in what looks like 1/2 cup of water and a tablespoon of detergent. I guess it’s fine for now while their kids are little. But there’s nothing like a full tub of soapy water and a violent agitator to knock the crap out of the clothes to get the the grime out of a 10 year old’s play shorts and shirt.

AGMA’s going to be sad when they need replacing. Which may be soon. Actually, at this point, every load they do is a gift.

I’ll be sad not only from a “Holy sh*t…a new washer is how much???” perspective, but from a ‘tug on my heartstrings’ one as well.

I washed/dried innumerable soccer, baseball, football and track uniforms in them. I washed/dried the last couple of years of little boy play clothes before they turned into teenage angst clothes. I washed/dried pants & shirts that were worn to junior and senior high school dances. And I washed/dried massive loads of clothes brought home from college on breaks.

Call AGMA crazy, but I kinda miss those days…

I washed/dried throw rugs that were ‘messed on’ by our dog, KC, and our cats, Wart, Willie, Caesar, Gus and Max. Okay – maybe not such a fond memories of the messes, but 4 out of the 6 critters have gone over the rainbow bridge. I still miss them…

I washed/dried my sweet step-mother’s clothes in them weekly while she was in the Alzheimer’s unit of a local nursing home. And AGMA was very grateful for the long soak cycle at the beginning, the extra wash cycle and the extra rinse cycle. If you catch my drift. She’s now been gone for 17 years. I will always miss her…

Yeah…AGMA is just one big sentimental blob about my washer and dryer.

And Goldie.

I’ll probably cry like Son#2 did so many years ago when they reach the end of the road.

Anybody have any M&M’s?

 

Let’s Go Krogering!

Kroger

Although the last few years have seen me in Whole Foods every week, I’m really a Kroger girl at heart.  If you aren’t familiar with Kroger, it’s a US grocery store chain headquartered in the city I lived in for most of my adult life, Cincinnati, Ohio.  You pretty much can’t spit in Cincinnati without hitting a Kroger.  They’re everywhere.

OMG – this is going to be a snoozer post…

Since Whole Foods is waaayyyy too expensive to buy food for more than one or two unless you have a trust fund, last weekend I went into my local Kroger to get some goodies to donate to my church for Thanksgiving food baskets.

But a weird thing happened.

After I had checked off all of the boxes on the list of things to get – cans of vegetables, cranberry sauce, evaporated milk, boxes of instant potatoes, stuffing and pasta – I didn’t want to leave.  I just couldn’t bring myself to go to the cashier to check out.  Or to one of the horrid self-service checkout things that are always calling the attendant on me because it didn’t “sense” me putting the 1 oz greeting card into the bag.  I’m convinced they call the attendant just to mess with me.  I hate those things.

But honestly, I didn’t want to leave.  I found myself pushing my cart, aimlessly wandering up and down the aisles.  Thinking about November “Krogering” trips from years gone by.

It’s pretty crazy how and where memories can be triggered.  These were good memories of shopping to feed the seemingly endless appetites of teenage boys, buying turkeys and “fixin’s” for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, getting ingredients for home-made holiday treats for teachers, friends and co-workers   Memories of family and community brought together by the sacred act of sharing food together.  Of spending time and energy in creating a body and soul nurturing meal out of the simple elements of meat, vegetables, bread.  And love.

Like alchemy.

I’ve been running away from some memories for a long time.  Maybe running away is a bit too dramatic.  How about “detouring around”?

The bad ones because they are just pain bad and painful. Understandable.  But I’ve been detouring from some of the good ones too.  Really happy ones in a different time and place and situation.  They tease that life may never be like that again. That the best really isn’t yet to come – that it’s already been.  Total nonsense I know.  Life is a continual adventure with unexpected joys and opportunities presenting themselves all the time if we can find a way to open our hearts to them.  I really try.

Screw Whole Foods…  This year we’re having an all Kroger Thanksgiving!  I have 364 days of the year to eat organic and “locally sourced”.  I want some good old comfort holiday food tomorrow. Food that will make my kitchen smell like it did 20 years ago when I was cooking for my growing family, and having friends and family in and out for the holidays.  Food that makes me smile and remember, and feeds my body and spirit.

Hmmm…

Maybe this means the detouring is winding down.  Maybe it means that I’m finally getting my act together.  Or that the life I’m making for myself now is just as happy as in days gone by, but in a new and different way.  Or none of the above.

I need to not overthink this.  Tomorrow, I just need to dig in, enjoy and be thankful.  For lots and lots and lots of stuff.

Like you, my WordPress friends.

Happy Thanksgiving y’all!