Photo: The Ironman cometh! More 'bout that below.
Lo, my little Bloggers. Lovely day here in my neck of the woods. Hot, clear n sunny. Just the way I like an early May day to be. I slept at least eight hours last night instead of my more usual six and woke headache free at last. After breakfast, it temporarily became a morning of minor frustrations. I missed being here for a pick up of a computer Danny had repaired (the man arrived about 45 minutes late just when I had Chili out on a potty walk, didn't wait, didn't call, just drove back to Apopka and then Danny had to take it to him after training a client in lake Mary, wasting time and lots of expensive gas). Then, I managed to lose the house keys after I came in from walking Ginny. But, as Laura used to say when she was little, "Lax, deese tings happen". I found the keys, Danny got back from Apopka, and we treated ourselves to a showing of the film Ironman.
Go see it boys and girls. It's got ton's of great special effects from Industrial Light and Magic (George Lucas' company), good storyline, and solid acting from Jeff Bridges, Gwynneth Paltrow and the extremely talented Robert Downey. Tony Stark, as played by Downey, is my kind of superhero. Good music too. Watch for a cameo by Stan Lee and don't leave during the credits. It's even better than the first Spiderman and as good as Batman Returns. Danny used to read all the comics and knows all the superhero stuff. I didn't, but I enjoy the movies when they're as well done as this one.
On another topic: Mother's 86th birthday would be tomorrow. She would so enjoy Baby Alex and being a great grandmother. I wish it could be. But, as our Pastor Tom said, "It's not our call."
The whole bad taste in my mouth from the house sale last Wednesday is fading. A dear friend emailed me congratulations and some sage comments this morning which helped put all in perspective. As she said, selling the house in one month in this market is quite a coup and no doubt my parents would approve.
After all, the house, while a nice house in an nice neighborhood, is isn't any of our historical family homes from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Philadelphia, Schellsburg, and the Pittsburgh area-- most sadly disappeared with time and 'progress'--or the sweet little home my father and mother built after he returned from war. Our little clapboard house( nestled next to my beloved woods) with the stone wall my father built with the foundation stones from his great uncle's farmhouse is still there, added onto a bit, and well cared for complete with a grove of very tall pine and spruce trees in the yard that once were our 'live' Christmas trees each year. Those trees are a fitting memorial to my Daddy, although my woods are no more. The things people remember about my parents...and hopefully my stories....are a sort of memorial too. Walls are just walls. They shelter, but they don't contain the lives of those they shelter.
Unlike me, I don't think my parents really considered Florida 'home' despite living here for decades. My father moved here because of a job and always hoped to return north. Unfortunately poor health prevented that in life. He asked us not to bury him in Florida but in the little mountain cemetery near Schellsburg, Pa. where my mother's people have rested since before the Revolutionary War. I will return there with Mother's ashes one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, to return her to her people. And to Daddy.
The closing was very unsettling though, as I wrote before, aside from the moment of locking the door and walking out of the house my parents shared for thirty years.
I felt like it was poorly handled, although I'm not sure who dropped the ball exactly. First of all, I never got to see the closing papers prior to walking into the closing-- which I didn't know would happen on the right day or not until five minutes before it started. I walked in just having been, as I said before, told by my realtor that the father said I'd left the house junked up. Not happy, I was my little Padawans! The closing agent obviously wanted to hurry up and go home as did the banker. Nobody wanted my closing questions. I felt rushed and pressured and the supposedly unhappy but outwardly genial father kept asking me social questions which slowed me down and made the closing agent and the banker more impatient. Danny was home by this time and I was getting hungry. When the frelling closing thing finally ended...and it seemed to take years...my bank was closed and I couldn't even deposit the check. Then, the realtor, harped on the junk thing again. Ach der lieber! As my Mammaw Wilhemina used to say, "It's a great life, if you don't weaken." That always makes me laugh. And its true. She also used to say, "Can I put a potato in the oven for you?" That one was not helpful, since Frau Geib Wayman had no actual domestic experience or skills whatsoever. Oh well.
When I told him, Danny said, "I'll bet your chin was down the whole time." It probably was. My chin goes down when I'm angry and I want to act like one of my Viking or blue wode tattooed Celtic ancestors and I have to be civilized. I always get a headache after from neck strain. Thursdays headache was a doozy.
But, the young couple who now owns the house were obviously excited and happy and very nice and I wish them much happiness in the house. And my handyman, Shawn, was so happy when I told him to take whichever of Daddy's tools he wanted from the carport work area. He said they were almost antiques and very special and he couldn't wait to get them home and clean them up. The painter was glad to get the never used gas grill and the patio chairs too. So, I'm not going to care anymore what the father or anyone else thought. Some folks are hard...maybe even impossible to please and why should I anyway? Oh yeah, oops, Mama brought me up to always do things right. You know, always return your library books and your Blockbuster videos on time, turn your term papers in when they are due, wear clean underwear in case you end up in a car accident (?), never lie, be a lady, etc....problem is, I really want to be a warrior or a dragon-slayer or maybe a pirate ( but with a good dental plan.) So, I'm at odds with my true nature. Probably why I write. Come to think on it, not such a bad thing after all.
Its raining now. No dog walks. I'm off to work out...have to be strong you know...just in case an Islamic terrorist or a dragon happens by or a crew opening comes up on the Black Pearl...Ta.