Closing In

Well, we’re no longer home owners. The seemingly endless road from the point we decided to sell the house ended with a whimper yesterday. We were on the phone with our favorite son when he asked if the closing happened or not. My wife and I looked at each other with a similar expression – “yeah that’s something we should check on”. We’ve been so consumed with the requirements of setting up the new house that we weren’t paying attention. Our lawyer was signing everything for us so we didn’t have to attend the closing.

No Longer Ours

A quick check of my email indicated the sale went down without a hitch so the house upon the hill is no longer in our names. Like I said, a whimper instead of a bang but I think that’s an indication that both my wife and I had moved on. The house will always serve as a repository of some of the most important memories of my post Army life but ultimately it didn’t fulfil what we hoped which was local kids with local grandchildren. Life has an immutable rule - “no plan survives contact with the enemy”; the enemy being time itself. Two very independent children evolved into far flung adults that will require some modifications to the central location idea. The move to Worcester is the first step in the subsequent plan. I’m still going to miss the country night sky with the stars close enough to touch but certainly not the driveway form hell.

Organized Garage - Entrance No Longer Requiring Lubricants

Work continued apace yesterday in the settling in phase. My wife has just about completed the setup of the three guest bedrooms but is still trying to figure out what to do with all the extra linen since this house doesn’t have the spacious linen closet of the house on the hill. I finally got around to the garage which was chockablock full of debris from the move and sundry other sources. I hung up a couple leftover storage strips that allowed me to hang a lot of garden implements on the wall which helped a lot. We can now get my wife’s car into the garage without having to grease the sides.

Cali-Daughter Last Night Heading Out to Dinner with Recently Returned Wingman
Blog Reader Bump Evident

We both finished in enough time to actually sit down and watch a Red Sox game for the first time in what seems like weeks; not that we’ve missed that much. At least we all get a whole extra second at midnight tonight as the earth is slowing down its rotation, so we’ve got that going for us. Now all we have to do is hang a couple dozen pictures and the move will be complete; that extra second is going to come in handy.

Cellar Confinement and Dimple Day

Yesterday’s monsoon like weather conditions dovetailed nicely with my planned activities which involved making some sort of order out of our chaotic new basement. We lost 1000 square feet of living space with the move to our new abode which was a very good thing. The only problem being - the old Army axiom surrounding household moves – “you always expand to fill whatever space you occupy”. We certainly did that with our ten year sojourn in Charlton. Despite a month’s worth of repeated trips to various charities and an overworked rubbish man we still had way, way too much “stuff”. 

The Basement Before I started

The initial plan was to rent a storage space but that was before seeing the pristine and empty basement of the new house. The only dissenting vote was Buddy since this was going to serve as new cave. His dissention received the same amount of credence as my input to my wife’s decorating ideas. He grudgingly agreed to provide his usual level of supervision during my efforts.

And After

I’ve written before that our earlier moves and the accompanying unpacking seemed much easier during the many times we did this during the military career. Far be it from me to suggest this may be due to the much younger versions of ourselves that performed these earlier moves. My wife has been after me to sleep in on the weekends to recharge our red lining personal batteries but I seem to have lost the ability to sleep beyond 7am (damned Army).  It was thus with not a little bit of awe when I awoke yesterday and found the bedside clock reading 10am!

We Have Too Much Christmas "Stuff"

I immediately reported this to my wife and we both professed to feel completely overhauled from the additional rest. I went downstairs and was vexed to see the Sunday paper had not been delivered. I was in the middle of a strident call to the newspaper to report my indignation when the computer I was talking to mildly reminded me that it was well before the guaranteed delivery time. For the first time I looked at another clock to discover it was only 7:05am. We later worked out that my wife had unplugged my bedside clock during one of her decorating forays and forgot to reset it. It’s funny how the mind works – we both convinced ourselves we felt substantially better after the mythical three hours of additional rest. The recovered hours were spent checking our new church and grocery store – tasks I thought I would dodge with the late rise.

Buddy's New Cave and Carpet

I ended up spending more than nine hours in the basement as I worked through the flotsam and jetsam of our move. Anything we didn’t immediately assign to a new room during the move ended up in the basement. The week long unpacking consigned even more to the growing pile of debris that severely constricted Buddy’s dog cave. I kind of liked the work though, as it permitted a predictable amount of success as I slowly progressed across the basement. My wife purchased a new, small carpet for Buddy’s space (we do spoil him) and I eventually cleared enough space to spread it out for him. He regally deigned to enter his kennel at this point and supervised the rest of my work from there. I think he liked the surrounding mass of stored furniture as it will provide more of a bolt hole when those dastardly thunderstorms attack.

The Birthday Girl

Today is a special day outside of the mundane stricture of my recent move. It also marks the day of birth of my baby sister! She was born a few years later than the rest of us so she immediately became a family favorite, the sweetest kid imaginable. She retained her blond hair while the rest of us converted to brown and had/has the most devastating dimples in the Western Hemisphere.

Dimples Still There

She’s had some tough breaks thrown her way in life, including being basically alone at home with our mother in the aftermath of a devastating family tragedy. She’s emerged from these challenges and defined herself as a fantastic mother and grandmother. I could not be prouder of what’s she’s done with her life. A couple years ago she finally found the love of her life and I’m so happy she’s found a man who truly appreciates how special a person she is. She had a tough winter where she learned firsthand the dangers of diving off a porch onto a driveway while leading with her face. It’s instructive as to her character that she’s recovered and didn’t let her devastating injury modify who she is. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIMPLE GIRL – LOVE YOU IMMENSELY! 

She Deserves Her Happiness

Last Glances

We took a break from the first full day of unpacking in the new abode yesterday. The residential floors are pretty much set up except for the ceremonial and somewhat involved mounting of pictures and associated negotiations on what goes were (with my 49% of vote). Our more than excellent former neighbors insisted of marking our departure with a going away party. It was strange showing up in our old neighborhood as “visitors” but the strangeness melted away as soon as we took up position on the back deck of the house where the party went down.

Kids Running Around the Back Yards

The accompanying kids were flying around the back yards while their parents bent over backwards to make sure we knew how much they valued our friendship. The only breaks came when called upon to serve as arbiters in one of the ongoing games. It was strangely cool, belying the fact that we’re almost in July. My Panamanian wife kept putting on layers of clothes until the host fired up a chimenea on the back deck. It was a perfectly understated way to say goodbye to these cherished friends. It helped that the view from the deck did not include our old house which was masked by another.

The Fabulous Hosts of the Party With My Wife Seated in Front

Some massive breasts of chicken were donated on the sacrificial fires of the grill but the easy comradery of longtime friends was the true elixir for the day. As the sun faded the cold weather was replaced by a steady drizzle so we moved inside for the meal. In my never ending quest to consume the perfect dessert, a tasty new nomination arrived with full fanfare. I can’t remember what it was called but it involved pudding, graham crackers, cool whip, and frosting. It passed the acid test of repeated servings even when my belly was screaming in consternation at the amount of food I was attempting to fit in.

Keys and Note on the Green Ubatuba (That the Keene Friend Admired So)

After the party we had one last task to perform in the old house. I had to hose down the garage floor and load the last few remaining items. I left a letter and the keys for the new owners who take possession of the house tomorrow. I made a point to walk into each room in the house and recall some special memory the room guarded. It was more poignant than I was prepared for but it also served as a fitting goodbye to a house that will always hold a very special place in our family history.

Site of the Treacherous Insectile Attack - Last Internal View of House

Poignancy fled pell-mell when I then took up the task of cleaning out the garage a final time as one of the other signature features of country living asserted itself in force. The Charlton mosquitoes, who are sometimes mistaken for small birds, decided to get their last licks in as a way of sending us off. They stormed the pen garage in force. My wife was waiting in the car until she discovered I’d left the rear door of the car open which provided another meal for the voracious predators. I was roundly castigated for my failure to protect her for the elements. Pulling out of the driveway one last time seemed almost welcome because dwelling on the memories was too difficult.

Transplant Taking

The Supreme Court declared yesterday that marriage is one of humanity’s oldest traditions and should therefore be available to all who are ready to honor and love one another. I know the far right is exploding in indignation but they should seriously consider joining the rest of us in the 21^st century. It is more important how you treat your partner than who that partner is.

Yesterday was the first First Friday undertaken since moving into Worcester. The big question to be addressed was a replacement for Zorba’s on the Friday dance card. This will only accomplished through extensive and thorough reconnaissance. Before that onerous duty was undertaken though I had the reassuring familiarity of another First Friday kick off at Brew City. The operations manager arrived first but couldn’t make his usual texting proclamation since he forgot his phone. Our favorite waitress, Therese, volunteered to send me a very funny text heaping scorn on said operations manager, much to his delight. She magnanimously granted me permission to take credit for acquiring her phone number since it has been decades since I “pulled some digits” at a bar. For some reason my wife was not as enthusiastic when I reported my accomplishment although I think both ladies realize I’m harmless.

Cali-Daughter Ran Into an Old Army Brat Buddy Yesterday in L.A. 

The very short ride home exposed me to the migration of my wife’s plants from the basement. She’s finally decided where the vast array of greenery will be placed in the new house so Buddy’s jungle like setting in the basement rapidly dissipated. She did not particularly appreciate with some of my less than complimentary commentary on the weight of the plants as I struggled up from the basement with her “children”.

We were soon off to commence our reconnaissance in force in Northern Worcester. The first target was Oli’s Italian Eatery which is connected to a well-known Italian bakery so the olfactory element was immediately appreciated. The pizza was very good and while they did not serve my usual swill they did have a variety of microbrews on tap that would make even such noted connoisseurs as the Favorite Son and Wingman happy. The only down note was a distinct lack of frozen mudslides for a certain Panamanian which means the search will continue next Friday. We did polish off what could be the best ever chocolate lava cake in record fashion so a return engagement is not without prospect.

Wife Inside Oli's

We returned home only to see my wife abducted by our next door Panamanian and the greatest danger of our new living location was realized. They went shopping!!! Of course this allowed me some “quiet time” on relocated Couch Potato Position #1 which was summarily enjoyed. I awoke from my closed eyed enjoyment of the Red Sox game to find the shoppers returned triumphant from one of their favorite haunts –The Christmas Tree Shoppe. My wife bought some more “stuff” because we divested ourselves of so much of the same over the past month that some sort of primordial need must have seeped in. I have two new linen storage cabinets to assemble.

To celebrate their successful hunt we decamped to the next door neighbor’s house for a very entertaining couple of hours around their kitchen island. This was a perfect way to end a trying week as the medical power of hanging out with good friends cannot be underestimated. Then there was the thirty foot commute to our back door when the party broke up. This Worcester transplant is turning into a very positive thang.

A Friend Posted this on Facebook - Too Funny Once You Get It

Painted Man

I have it on very good authority (my favorite Panamanian, no less) that my work at the old house is approaching its concluding phase. We were back at the old homestead last night without Buddy this time having decided we could avoid his customary lawn decorating efforts. The task involved painting over the walls where we made repairs after the pictures came down. Did I mention there was a lot of pictures; oh, and that every single room is a different color? What my wife’s decorating acumen produced was a serial painting job where I shuttled up from the basement with the appropriate color (Lion’s Mane versus Allspice - an enduring dilemma) for the room in question, spend thirty to forty seconds painting over a couple holes and then returning to the basement to wash out the brushes before repeating eight different times. I was more than a little impressed that ten year old paint had survived long enough to still be effective.

Television Site - Before Painting

The only room that needed extensive painting was the family room where the massive wall mounted television and attendant wires left their mark. While I was doing the mad painting dance trying to preserve the now pristine floors from my inevitable spill capacity my wife rescued yet more of her beloved flowers because we can never have enough flowers, right? In a final act of lunacy she decreed we had to load up a large cement lawn statue we inherited from my mother.

And After

I was a little touched because she said it helped her feel connected to my mother and they always had a fairly testy relationship (there he goes – master of the understatement). That didn’t make it any easier to lift however. Seeing the finish line of the house clearing did that. We’ll be back to the house one last time on Saturday because some neighbors want to throw us a going away party.

A Next to Last Look at the House on the Hill

On our way to the house I first had to pass one of the hardest tests of my limited patience - a shopping experience with my wife. We learned early in our marriage that we were not meant to shop together and we rarely do - probably why the marriage has survived so long. We had to acquire a new vacuum cleaner since the new house is mostly carpeted and the old one has done admirable (three dogs and counting) service but is showing its age. My daughter and the ABFA had highly recommended a certain brand so I thought it would be easy. With my wife and shopping, nothing is easy. I dutifully found the recommended machine and was prepared to leave but you know I was mistaken. First we had to summon a sales person to demonstrate some of the features and finally the store manager so we could hook up a demonstration model for a test drive. People who know me realize how close to critical mass the final step brought me, especially when we walked out of the store with the vacuum I put my hands on two minutes after walking in.

Our New Highly Tested Vacuum

It’s been a tumultuous week and I just want life to slow down just a little to the point I don’t feel exhausted at the end of each day. Monday with the final closing on the house should help as I divest myself of one of the two residences I now sustain. While the work’s been tough the week did allow me to recognize some of the truths in my life: 1. I’m blessed with truly remarkable people around me, especially friends and family. Their extraordinary efforts over the past weekend are the only reason the move happened. 2. I must truly love my wife because I would have seriously considered homicide over some of her “requirements” (think flowers & plants) if I didn’t. 3. I have a really weird dog. Buddy somehow figured out how to lock himself in an upstairs bathroom at the old house while we were making one of our runs to the new house on Saturday. When we returned and we didn’t get his usual cacophonous welcome I thought he’d passed away only to find him safe behind closed doors in the bathroom. He’s such a lovable idiot and they say dogs take after their masters (I said it before you could think it).

The Co-Idiots

Last Rides

Yesterday was every bit as long as I feared/hoped. The fear part came from being locked in a room with the union leadership as we hammered out some of the final and most delicate issues of a new contract. I’m about to go into a meeting with the entire union executive committee where they’ll get their first look at what their negotiating team has worked out with us. This could be an interesting day.

Buddy in his Old Room

The hope part came in one of my last trips to Charlton. I’m a certified goof when it comes to dogs in general and Buddy the Wonder Pooch specifically. I thought it would be a good idea to take him along with me as we clean the final evidence of out residence out of the old homestead. I felt his accompaniment was appropriate since most of the evidence I’m speaking of came off his hide – namely mountains of black fur. His contribution to the cleaning effort was a massive bowel movement he executed in his old stomping grounds immediately upon arriving. One of our fantastic neighbors was helping out with the cleaning effort and her son was singularly impressed with Buddy’s effort.

Didn't There Used to be a Couch Here?

My wife has decreed we have to completely clean the house because apparently it’s important for the new owners to be able to eat off the floors. I’m not sure I agree or even approve but again my 49% of the vote only goes so far. I did get my last ride of my favorite toy – the riding lawn mower which the new owners asked for in the sale. As I rode the familiar landscape for one last time on another of those perfect New England summer days I decided I had been remiss in failing to name this reliable old steed. I even gave it a final bath after completing the last ride.

The Last Mowing

We had planned to do some spot painting but the week’s worth of moving effort finally caught up with us after dinner at an old favorite restaurant. We contented ourselves with figuring out how to fit all the pictures and paintings we had to transport in both of our cars along with our resident supervisor, Buddy. My wife had a more cautious approach than my initial load out plan called for which was a good thing considering all the glass involved. In the end everything made it into the cars although Buddy was left hanging out the window on one side – something he absolutely loved (at least until we hit the interstate). We made it back to the new abode just in time to see that rarest of events this summer – a Red Sox win!

We also talked with our favorite son who reported on the ABFA’s somewhat suspect attempts at barefoot volleyball not on a beach. Even a prodigious athlete such as she was a little daunted by the physical requirements ensuing from a forgotten pair of sneakers. The most endearing news though emanated from California where our daughter casually mentioned in the midst of providing vacuum purchasing advice that our future grandchild was now kicking (taking after his dad – see yesterday’s post).

California Update

A very short post today (you’re welcome) because I’m about to launch into day long negotiations with the union again. Everything proceeds apace at the new homestead, the first floor and master bedroom are all unpacked and the next phase will see an expansion into the basement (ruh roh). Our next door Panamanian Mafia members had us over for dinner last night which put a serious dent in overwhelming fatigue at all this moving nonsense. So great to have good friends right next door, they’ve made this insidious task of moving a labor of like.

Halfway

I received a text yesterday from the California daughter reporting she has reached the halfway point in her creative efforts for the first official blog reader. Her husband, the Wingman, is out on tour right now but they passed through L.A. over the weekend so there was a chance for them to get together. They also met up with the son of one of my very best friends from college who’s also in a band on the same tour. Small world moment. Now off to interact with my very good friends in the union leadership.

Wingman at Work over the Weekend

Moving On With the Master

I am more than sure I’m going to like this move into Worcester. I played hooky from work yesterday morning so I could be there when the all-important cable dude showed up to reconnect us to the world. Some things just cannot be delegated. He showed up right on time, just after I reassembled the jigsaw puzzle known as our master bedroom bed with the “expert” running advice from my favorite Panamanian.

Buddy Wending his Way Through the Basement Jungle

He had us up and running in short order although the massive TV and its accompanying sound system seemed to throw him for a loop. I told him not to worry – it has daunted numerous victims. He played with it for a half hour until I repeated the instructions my favorite son had passed on when he did the initial set up on Sunday. The technician initially disregarded this advice but that’s ultimately what worked. My techno guru progeny shines again and I had the walls shaking in short order. It was like reconnecting to the world as first the phone and then the internet returned.

The best part of the day though was after he left and I drove into work in a little under six minutes! I even came home for lunch. As stated above, I’m going to like this Worcester experiment. After work I did journey back to Charlton to continue work in the old house. It was strange. I’ve made that drive literally thousands of times but yesterday it felt different, like I was a visitor instead of returning to a place I lived. I guess on some level, be it intellectual or emotional, I’ve disengaged from the old place.

All the Pictures are Down

That disengagement received a rocket boost when I returned home to find my wife in the backyard with our next door neighbors. We sat in the backyard and shot the breeze while Buddy the Wonder Pooch roamed as far as his tether would reach. He seems to be adjusting to the new restrictions on his freedom well. The highlight was a rabbit discovering there was a new sheriff in town when he casually hopped into Buddy’s range. A spirited chase ensued to the length of the chain. The rabbit ended up intact, if excited, in the neighbor’s yard where he settled down for a staring contest with a very frustrated Buddy. Sitting in the back yard with such good friends was a great way to end the day. Definitely liking the Worcester life.

In the tumult of the past week I failed to report finishing off the latest book by the Master (I’m not worthy!) Stephen King’s Finders Keepers. This is actually a sequel to his last book Mr. Mercedes and features many of the same characters. It’s a straight forward crime story with the usual bevy of well-defined heroes and pathetically evil villains. Even with everything going on I found time to wade mercilessly though King’s usual high standard of writing. He expertly and seamlessly weaves two story lines forty years apart until they intersect for a thrilling conclusion.

A noted reclusive writer, think Salinger, is murdered by a low life fan in the 1970s who also steals his unpublished works hoping to find out what happened to a beloved character created by the writer. He ends up in prison after burying money and the writings but before he can read the work. He spends the ensuing thirty years consumed with the need to find out. Meanwhile a young boy finds the buried treasure and uses the money to help out his family until the needed confrontation when the murderer is released on parole. The heroes of Mr. Mercedes then take the stage to assist in corralling the evil. The best news after sprinting through Finders Keepers and falling in love with yet another flock of characters from the Master – this is the second book in a trilogy he plans to publish! Color me psyched!

Moving Experience

Well, it’s done. Well I mean mostly done. I’m left with one overriding thought after the past weekend – WE HAVE ENTIRELY TOO MUCH JUNK!!!! According to my well informed wife – this opinion is flawed. We completed the move over the weekend and I cannot go any further without a huge and heartfelt shout out to my sister and brother in law to whom fell the onerous task of transporting not only my wife’s exorbitant and extremely heavy collection of outdoor plants but my DVD collection as well. We’re talking significant weight here! They were troopers well into Saturday night – can’t thank them enough.

The House Emptying Out

The biggest shout out though goes to the other two members of my moving team: my favorite son and the Keene Friend. I could not have done the move without them and they were a source of boundless energy if not enthusiasm throughout the weekend. They made no less than seven round trips crowded in the front seat of my trusty U-Haul truck with me and the last run on Saturday didn’t arrive in Worcester until midnight – a long day. I am left in awe of my son who passed up one of his best friend’s 30^th birthday party to help his dad move the entire house. He even went to the wall to defend his mother’s indoor plants from my semi-ruinous packing plans. I can never repay the debt I owe them both.

Everything went according to plan although my initial estimate of the number of trips it would take was wildly inaccurate. We’ve been giving away things for the past month but that didn’t seem to make a dent in the amount of junk we had to move. Ten years in one, overly large house is a true recipe for conspicuous consumption. The smartest thing I did was invest in some professional help for the heaviest items. Renting the truck from U-Haul offered the opportunity to contract some muscle at the same time. They arrived on time and they took care of the truly heavy items. I really didn’t want them to leave when their time ran out.

Although highly motivated (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it) the team’s loading efforts seem to fade a bit as the sun headed west. My wife, who was at our new house supervising the unpacking effort, provided us all with a handful of ibuprofen at the end of one trip. That stuff really does work because all three of us remarked how much easier the next couple trips went. Damned stuff does wear out though in the face of the seven tons of “stuff” we ended up moving.

My Son - the True Superstar

We made the last trip back to Worcester late Saturday night and decided to forego unloading until Sunday morning as we were well past my son’s and Keene Friend’s normal bedtimes. Again, I’m left in wonder that they hung with me for so long – they are the absolute best. Buddy made the last trip back with us after ably supervising the Charlton loading phase all day. It was heartbreaking to see the expression on his face each time as we left the house without him.

Sunday brought its own challenges, namely in the form of water. The remnants of Tropical Storm Bob arrived to make the unloading of that last Saturday load a waterlogged mess. My Cali-Daughter called to wish me a happy Father’s Day only to find me sweat soaked in a dripping raincoat. It was a hurried call because I didn’t want the rest of the unloading gang to think I was trying to get out of work.

The other Sunday morning aquatic adventure was the upstairs hallway, of all places. Keene Friend reported the carpet seemed wet but there were no obvious leaks in the ceiling. The landlord had the carpets professionally cleaned before we moved in and I initially thought that accounted for the moisture. When I went up to check it out, water was literally splashing over my feet – “uh oh” was a phrase that immediately leapt to mind.

The Upstairs Hallway in the New House

My stalwart next door neighbor and proud member of the Panamanian Mafia came over to help. We tracked the water down to the master bedroom toilet where a water intake pipe had a busted  seal and leaked overnight. My neighbor brought over some plumber’s tape which he used to stop the leak and then supplied a water vacuum which we used to suck more than three gallons out of the hallway carpet. You can imagine that I now view my neighbor as a hero as well. We’ve had a fan blowing up there over overnight and this morning is was pretty well dried out and no immediate signs of ceiling stains on the first floor – bullet dodged.

The ABFA and Favorite Son With Their Dads After a Great Dinner

Bob left the area around noon time, just in time for the last ride of the terrible trio. We loaded the vast, and extensive collection of my wife’s indoor plants which are now officially recognized as the bane of my existence. The Charlton next door neighbor showed up to help load along with his four and five year old daughters which was just about the cutest thing I’ve seen in a very long time. As our possessions vacated the old homestead it felt less and less like our home. Now it seems like a cavernous, strangely distant, empty abode – it really is the people that make a place a home.

My Wife Said She Would Hold Her Hanging Clothes Until I Installed Her Shoe Trees
She Was Overcome by the Sheer Amount and Ended up Sitting on the Floor Completely Buried

The ABFA and her parents showed up Sunday afternoon to insure we spent at least part of the day recognizing Father’s Day. They helped unload that onerous last load as my wife’s plants ended up in the basement, which is officially Buddy’s room. I think he kind of likes having a faux jungle surrounding him. The “kids” took us all out to dinner and I had what has to be the best beer I’ve ever tasted, it truly approached religious experience levels. The best part was the company I was keeping though, something I could say about the entire weekend. I was blessed to be surrounded by heroes all weekend long.

My Wife Wanted to Wish Her Most Excellent Father Heartfelt Best Wishes in the Midst of Our Move

I’m actually looking forward to this next phase of organizing the new house. Its soul redeeming to see our home emerge out of the required chaos of the move. I hope someone is well invested in ibuprofen as there had to be a run on it this past weekend. I’m paying for a professional packer the next time.

Gone to Mattresses

In a Puzo like moment of clarity, the great packing exercise enters its final phase. The beds came down last night with the mattresses now on the floor. Our bed is one of those Bombay Company masterpieces with a thousand matrix like pieces that requires a Rhodes scholar to assemble. Since none of those were available we had to make do with yours truly. It wasn't pretty but I'm fairly certain I'll be able to put it back together. I did find getting out of the low lying bed this morning was a tad more interesting than I bargained for.

Every single box, to include yet another bunch acquired on my way home last night, is full and awaiting the move. One of the final acts was encasing our living room furniture in saran wrap – that was fun. Almost as much as attacking the crusted life forms I found living in the bottom of the basement refrigerator. I’m truly exhausted and I haven’t moved a single box yet. Luckily the forces of light will be checking in starting tonight to assist with the move. I wouldn’t even attempt this without such great family and friends to assist. Like I’ve said so many times, I am truly blessed.

The biggest benefit for the move, at least for you readers, is that I am going off the net for the weekend. I don’t think it would be prudent to take time out over the next couple days to sit down and write. The next Frail Deeds installment will not be until Monday, at the earliest. That is assuming I survive the next couple days. You are welcome.

Dining Room Impalement

Picture Does not do Justice to Beauty of Last Night's Sunset

My wife is thinking up new nicknames for me after last night’s packing exercises – Vlad the Packer leaps to mind. I was talking a good game, feeling I was more than qualified to break down the dining room furniture after seeing it done so many times by the professionals during our military moves. I even had a cogent plan. I had a couple very large cartons from the TV stand and the replacement mirrors which I was going to use for the immense glass shelves from the hutch.

The Wrapped Shelves

She was skeptical but in a surprise move actually permitted my plan into action with only token resistance. Everything was going well, we had the shelves out and encased in the cardboard with liberal amounts of tape. My wife deigned that her furniture was out of the danger zone and she could leave me to own devices although she did look nervously at the knife I was wielding to cut the cardboard down to size (she knows me so well).

Dining Room Table Prepped

I was happily cutting away and just about to finish when I noticed I was cutting towards my other hand. I thought (and this actually happened) that my wife would be upset if the knife slipped and I impaled my hand. A split second later, well, you know what happened. I kind of ignored the pain because of the embarrassing predictability of the injury. I pulled the knife out of my finger and wrapped it tightly in a paper towel and then wrapped that in the handy packing tape (battlefield medicine don’t you know). That allowed me to escape immediate condemnation and insured I wouldn’t bleed all over her furniture.

Just a Flesh Wound!

When she eventually noticed the hasty bandage she only shook her head sagely and remarked that she was certain the favorite son’s well documented proclivity to injure himself had certainly been inherited from his father. I was left without a valid counter-argument. The paper towel and tape combo staunched any major blood flow but of course the wound is right on the first knuckle of the index figure which is painful any time I lift anything. There’s a rumor that I’ll be doing a little bit of lifting come Saturday – perfect.

Dino Date Night

Yesterday was the last date night we’ll celebrate in Charlton and it almost didn’t happen. My wife spent the whole day packing, again, and had to be coaxed to accompany me. I had to respect the level of exhaustion because yesterday she was packing her vast shoe empire which made a real dent in our supply of boxes. She sheepishly tried to explain why the living room full of empty boxes was so drastically reduced. All I had to do though was glance in her closet and see the denuded shoe racks to understand her plight.

She also claimed to dislike dinosaur movies which ran counter to my plans on seeing the latest summer blockbuster, Jurassic World. I eventually cajoled her into attending and she ended up loving the movie although some of it was viewed betwixt fingers. My left arm will eventually recover from the impaling it took from her finger nails.

I liked, but did not love the movie. It was a workmanlike effort with all the expected thrills and shocks but this is territory already well covered by the preceding films. Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard are very good in the lead roles but the signature endangered kid roles were glossed over. CGI dinosaurs have reached the point where they no longer have the same wonder as the first films generated which means the story needs to make up the lack of compellable factor which isn’t really there.

The plot involves a rejuvenation of the park from the earlier films, including some of the old sets (Easter eggs galore). Pratt plays the plucky adventurer with a flock of semi-trained raptors. There’s a needless evil industrial-military game going on behind the scenes which is exposed when the latest creation – a specially “designed” dinosaur escapes and wreaks havoc on humans and dinosaurs alike. The film tried to incorporate themes and plot lines from all three preceding films and this detracted. All this being said, it was a great little thrill ride, well deserving of summer popcorn status but it definitely does not soar. 

Pungent Sink

Monday arranged the most appropriate weather possible, driving rain and clammy conditions reminiscent of March. That’s the “great” thing about New England weather, the perfect summer of Sunday is paid for with days like yesterday. At least being a Monday squashed any day dreaming of time better spent out of doors.

The packing frenzy continues at home, my wife had me pick up another lode of boxes on my way home. I returned to find Buddy confined to his kennel with a satisfied but extremely guilty look on his face. I found my wife spitting mad about having to share her lunch with the Wonder Pooch. She left a pan with her chicken dinner on the counter while she went into another room – rookie mistake. Buddy had the entire thing on the floor and consumed in a startlingly short time. Buddy’s counter climbing prowess while ably demonstrated once again resulted in a very P.O’d Panamanian on his tail very quickly – hence the sentence to solitary confinement.

Once she settled down and caught her breath from recounting “my” dog’s malfeasance we got to work on packing the kitchen up. During our many military moves the professional packers always seemed to dislike packing the kitchen out the most. I now understand their reticence. Kitchens are full of never ending cupboards with mostly breakable items. Since most of the stuff is fragile my wife has kept me far away from most of it. I was called in yesterday to cull the liquor cabinet. We don’t drink hard liquor, outside of the rum swizzles from our recent Bermudian sojourn. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink of anything harder than beer. That means over the years with the many parties we’ve hosted a fairly prodigious amount of alcohol was acquired which remained untouched in our cupboard – until last night.

What I Sued to Clean Out Pipes Last Night

Some of the liquor dated back to our military days and I remember seeing it packed up several times which means almost twenty years old. I’m sure that’s good for some type liquor but definitely not all. I’m here to tell you that daiquiri mix does not age well. I base this opinion upon the smell of the liquid from the bottles I did cull from the herd last night as it disappeared down the kitchen sink drain. My wife added a gallon bottle of soy sauce which completed the olfactory extravaganza. Even Buddy, freed from incarceration, avoided the kitchen for a while – a true first.

We finally corralled the Cali-daughter and her expanding baby bump long enough to get some advice on artifacts uncovered during the excavations in her old room. Using FaceTime she was able to visually inspect the items and decree which could be consigned to the dumpster. The movie posters from every Kevin Spacey film ever made did not make the cut so that fascination might finally be waning.

One of the employees haunted Sunday with a professional camera and posted a bunch of photos. He was apparently fascinated with my dunk tank ensemble. Here are a few of those:

Some might remember that I wrote a little over a year ago about the ground breaking for a new facility which we should be moving into next year. The site is a brownfield with some serious remediation that’s been going on ever since that groundbreaking. It was the site of 19^th century coal tar plant and EPA regs were noticeably absent during that time. They’ve finally trucked most of the hazardous material away and the building is starting to rise from the ground, see photos below: