Rest in Peace, MS Explorer

When I opened Google News and saw an article about a cruise ship floundering in the icy water off Antarctica, I had to check it out. Dad went to Antarctica many years ago on the Explorer and then several years after that we spent two weeks on the "Little Red Ship" going 2,000 miles down the Amazon River ("Iquitos to the Sea"). I was reminded of that trip as I looked at all the many photos of the sinking.

It was a neat boat ("It's NOT a boat--it's a ship!" I hear my father cry.) It accommodated 150 passengers but there were only 55 on our trip. I often felt there might be more crew than paying customers. Dad and I shared a cabin across from the gift shop which was overseen by a very attractive young woman so Dad did a fair amount of shopping. There was a library/lounge that was a lively gathering place before dinner. Lectures took place in the auditorium, which some of the guides nicknamed the Nap Room because no matter how interesting the lectures, almost everyone fell asleep at some point once the lights were dimmed. Dad and I finally stayed in our cabin and listened to the lectures over the in-room audio. The beds were more comfortable than the seats in the auditorium! In our defense, we were up at 5:30am and in the zodiacs to go in search of birds, sloths, caiman, piranhas, pink dolphin or whatever there was to see.

The sinking of the Explorer reminds me of such wonderful memories--locals pulling up in dugout canoes behind the ship to offer fresh fruits and vegetables and often some crafts, the tour of the Manaus Opera House (and a less memorable performance) which was seen in the movie "Fitzcarraldo," the "meeting of the waters" caipirinha party, jumping in the river and floating (really fast!!) to the raft they anchored further down river, watching the feather-clad lovely women dance the Boi Bumba, motoring through water buffalo grazing under water, water lily pads the size of my bed, hanging with my father, the views along the banks as we cruised by (in some places you can hardly see the other bank--in others, I was glad I wasn't on the bridge guiding the ship because the narrows are pretty narrow when you consider the maneuverability of a slow moving, not quick to react vessel. And we only ran aground once!) And the birds!!! Did I mention the birds? And all of this from the comfort of our little red ship.

I think of the many people who are reliving their memories of the MS Explorer as it went to its watery grave (I always wanted to say stuff like that). It's a kind of neat tribute to ship that served so many so well. I only wish I could relive the memories with my dad.
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The photo was sent to me by my sister who got it from a friend who sent me the address for someone who knows someone who may have taken it, but I haven't heard back. I will update this when I find out who took it.

Weaverville ho!

I returned last week from my first stuff trip to North Carolina. I picked up the rental truck (apartment.com has the best rates I could find, brand new Penske truck) and loaded it with the help of Katie Scherbel, Steve and Kathleen Faraone, and Gini Jones. Putting the puzzle of boxes and furniture together was a challenge (thankfully, unloading it myself was WAY easier). I drove the next day as far as Newberry SC and then into Weaverville the next morning.

The truck, by the way, was a dream. When I dropped it off, I told the guy I'd love to own something like that, if it weren't for the fuel--it was pretty new (under 13,000 miles), comfortable, working CD player. Other than the time I was backing down Patsy & Ernie's driveway, when my perspective got skewed in the rear view mirrors because of the serious downward angle, driving it was a piece of cake.

Driving up to the house was very strange. What am I doing? Familiar and not. What if I can't find my way?

Turning down the driveway, I think I giggled. This is MINE! The key worked and the place looked just like I remembered. I was unloaded by 3pm. Unpacked and put away the following morning. I did a pretty good job of deciding what to move. I had everything I needed for the kitchen and bedroom, had a comfortable chair, a boom box, a small dining room table, even cleaning supplies and olive oil. Why is it I need all that stuff at home--my other home?

I walked around the house many times, viewing it from many angles. It looks different without the leaves that were here when I was last. I walked up the road, peering into the neighbors' yards. My road is rural but there is a nice sized community around it. And there are plenty of animals-- sheep, dogs, llamas have been seen so far. A place at the end of the road sells bison meat...

I thought about running a few errands but the way the truck drank fuel and the way it took up just a bit more space than I wanted to park in a small town, I scaled back expectations and just went up to Patsy & Ernie's to get stuff I had left there. After unloading that, I hopped into the shower. Midway through, I heard, "Oh When the Saints" REALLY loud. I turned off the water...dripping, nervous, wondering what it meant. The music had stopped. After getting dressed, I looked around. Nothing looked weird. I had a hunch. There was a box on the counter I had noticed but had ignored. It is the doorbell. I may choose from something like FIFTY different songs--over 10 Christmas carols, several patriotic choices, a few religious ones and Happy Birthday. The only problem is I couldn't get the volume down and I can't change the song--note to self: next time take a few tools. So for now, it's Oh When the Saints.

The doorbell ringer was Chris who lives across the street. My realtor knows her and had mentioned her name. I found her information online and emailed her with some basic questions. She responded! Then when she saw some activity over here, she dropped by and left her card. I ran across the street. Didn't want to miss this opportunity!

Chris is a potter--she makes whimsical animals--you can see them at rakuzoo.com. She and her partner Steve moved up from Florida six or seven years ago. She loves it. She told me about the community they live in which includes a number of homeowners and shared land. Sounds like good neighbors to have. We had a glass of wine and a wonderfully comfortable chat. Via email later, she offered a Meet the Neighbors event next time I am there. It was a fitting end to a really successful visit.

Returning the truck and flying home was easy. Everything went so well it was scary. Many times throughout the trip, I thanked my parents for working so hard to make this work.

Photos: (top) Fairly self-explanatory. Steve, Kathleen and I loading. (Yeah--I know. Looks pretty good for November. Why am I moving? That will be addressed soon.)
(middle) Looking down Ballard Branch Rd. MY road.
(bottom) My House (and the truck) through the leaf-less trees.
Thanks to Gini for the top pic.

PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 3 in PDF

Oops! I give up on Comcast. They have made it so hard to post to the website unless you use their sitebuilder software --forget that!! I have uploaded it to the website but I can't get there sooooo, here's the link:
http://home.comcast.net/~pnewl/PNewLPNewS15.3.pdf

sorry for any confusion! ho ho ho

PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 3

PNewL PNewS
Volume 15 No 3 “All the pnews that phits.” Thanksgiving 2007


Reading Books, Chewing on Sticks

I have always wanted to write a piece for the “Modern Love” column in the Sunday NY Times’ Sunday Styles section, but mine is not a life of great romance. Recently I thought I might have a subject that would at least fall in the right category. It is about love of family, a new kind of family.

Two years ago right about now, Gini and George and I were talking, and I (I think it was me…) said, What would you think about getting a dog together? And after some discussion, we decided this was a great idea. Neither of us was able to make a fulltime commitment what with travel schedules, health issues and attention span, but part-time seemed do-able. And the rest has been documented in these pages. We went on to adopt the cutest little puppy that became one of the most handsome—and one of the largest—hounds. He is happy, as are his parents—all three of us—most of the time.

Since his arrival, almost two years ago, the parents have become very good friends. We have survived the death of my father, my impending move, the planning of a major (annoying—my sentiments only) fundraiser, various separations, and several bouts of ill health (George’s). We have enjoyed road trips, dinners at Trader’s (mostly) and some at each other’s homes, endless phone conversations, and movie nights.

Recently, I bought a house and George went in the hospital…again. Gini and I were both stretched thin. Bear was a big happy (almost 2 year old) puppy with his own needs. He stayed with me, while Gini stayed with George in the hospital. One day, I had an all day class and Bear stayed alone at Gini and George’s because their house is better suited for long unaccompanied periods.

Our “family” was in a bit of disarray. Bear looked at us with a bit of wonder that he got to ride in each of our cars regularly—he LOVES being in a car he hasn’t been in within the previous…say, 27 minutes—but he’s hung in with our wacky new schedule, what Gini calls the “new normal.”

Feeling the strain of all that was swirling about one day, I was sitting in the cul de sac (in a lawn chair Gini had donated to this cause) where Bear likes to lie and chew sticks, and I wondered Why am I such a wreck? Why does life feel so hard? The house closed just about on time and despite some rocky moments with the process, it was relatively painless. [Ed note: Why do closings always come down to a last minute rush of paperwork? The lawyers and realtors know for a chunk of time what needs to happen when and yet, there is still a flurry of anxiety and insanity, and it always seems implied that it is my fault, that I am not moving fast enough.]

On the other hand, I am fine. George is not MY husband; this is not my family who is going through this. Au contraire! The world has shifted, things have changed. We are not of the generations when you lived within spitting distance of your closest relatives. One’s closest relatives now may not be related by blood at all. And this is my family and they are hurting, and so am I.

Not knowing what else to do, we are sitting in the cul de sac, sending words of support on the phone and over the stretch of water between us; I read books and Bear chews sticks.

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House Update

As mentioned, I am now a homeowner in the state of North Carolina. On Monday, I will drive my first load from here to there. It makes me a little nervous but it will be fun to be there. And the nice man at Penske says the truck has less than 11,000 miles, a CD player (to feed my books on tape addiction), and a new car smell. Wish me luck. There will be additional trips with yet more stuff. The final move date should be around June 1st. (Other photos can be found at www.pnewlpnews.blogspot.com)

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Things I am Learning And Other Miscellaneous Observations

• According to the AARP newsletter, the “do not call” list many of us took advantage of expires every five years. That means if you signed up when it became available, you will need to re-up in June of 2008, though you can do it now. Check out donotcall.gov or 888-3821222.
• I had a weird experience recently. I took my car in to the dealer to be serviced. The guy was so excited because Toyota wanted to do some testing on first generation Priuses with low mileage like mine. I think at that point, he went into boy-am-I-going-to-look-sharp mode. They had been waiting for three weeks for a car like mine to drive in the driveway—he said, so you want a new car? I was blown away—Cool! Later I figured out he meant you wanna new battery? Mind you, that’s not a bad deal—the batteries in the Prius are pricey, but the whole thing wound up being a hassle and the problem I took it to the dealer to be dealt with was not fixed. The service dude didn’t even write it up the way I said it to him. This is further proof that people don’t listen, not even to themselves.
• In Los Angeles magazine (November 2007), it was noted that, after 60 years, production of Wonder Bread in Southern California has ceased. The closest Wonder Bread factory is in Las Vegas. When I checked the Wonder Bread website’s FAQ (wonderbread.com), it said if you can’t find it in your grocery store, request it. Sounds like demand is down!
• Lisa visited recently. We met up in Winter Park near Orlando—a charming place with brick streets, wonderful shops, a “scenic boat cruise” [it was!], and a museum packed with Tiffany glass [MorseMuseum.org]. Well worth a stop, especially when trying to escape the madness that is Orlando!) We drove back to Sanibel and she brought me a hostess gift (she was raised right—so was I, but I don’t follow through so well—sorry Mom) including the NPR Map which is invaluable for folks like me who drive places and listen to NPR. You can also go to npr.org and get an NPR Road Trip to find stations along your route, but this is way more visual and in map format rather than MapQuest-esque.
• In May 2007 Natural Health, there is an article that starts out, “One in eight American adults obsessively checks e-mails, or loses track of time while browsing online [my itals] according to a 2006 Stanford Univ. School of Medicine report. If that sounds like you, you may be addicted to the internet.” Frankly, I think the number is higher.
Signs of addiction include, “Zoning out when surfing, often forgetting what you’ve just read…Getting sidetracked by e-mail…Feeling preoccupied by the Web….Worrying that you are missing something when offline…Upsetting family and friends with the time you spend online.”
If any of these sounds like you, you need to be “more mindful” of how you spend your time. Plan activities away from the computer; turn off alerts and schedule times of day to check email.
• Speaking of addiction, I believe I am addicted to some books. I can’t seem to put them down. I stay up late, I wake up in the middle of the night and think, perhaps I can knock off just one more chapter between 3 and 4 am. I sometimes make myself return everything to the library just so I have some peace.
• Perspective. Interesting, ain’t it? I had an issue with a woman I met recently. She was supposed to be helping me (at great expense) and I didn’t feel that she was. I tried to explain to her in what ways I didn’t think she was being helpful and she would say it made her sad that I felt that way but I was wrong, and I, of course, thought I was right. She wants to discuss it and I have run out of the ability to see why as neither of us is able to see it from the other’s perspective.

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Things I am Thankful for, 2007
(In no particular order)

• No hurricanes
• Many people who teach and inspire me
• Salad
• Traders Restaurant
• Wonderful fabrics
• The luck of my draw
• Comfortable shoes
• Finding some-one who could fix what ails me (and my new friend who is a masseuse—that helps too!)
• Books on tape
• Volunteering at the library
• Community
• The birds!
• Old friends and new friends
• Opportunity
• The beach and Kathleen who makes me walk it regularly

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My sincere wishes to you for all that is good in the holiday season.
Here’s to you and yours, me and mine, and to our global community.

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“Everyone must go through the narrows—
the transition to a different phase of life—
and if you don’t do this voluntarily,
the world or your body will force you to.”
Sara Davidson, Leap!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Once again, I had plans to get a PNewL PNewS out, and haven't. I always like doing a thanks-giving issue. Perhaps I still will. In the meantime, I hope this finds you all well, enjoying a pleasant day of food and family (whoever that may include) and football. It's a gorgeous day here. It's noon and I am still in my PJs. Time to get on with the day. Here's to you all.

PS I drive a rental truck to my new home on Monday. Think positive thoughts for a safe trip. Thanks!

Time marches--nay scampers--on

I had the best of intentions to keep this up with better regularity, but suddenly it's later and people are asking questions I feel like I have answered but it turns out only to me and the few I see a lot. My humble apologies.

In 11 days, I should close on a house in the wilds of Buncombe County North Carolina. It is a modest home on ~1.5 acres in a small community which sounds to be friendly--they have potlucks monthly (?) and open art studio tours twice a year and...well, that's probably more than I actually know. When people ask me if I am excited, I usually say I am in the buyer's remorse period. What am I doing? Why? I don't know, but as someone pointed out, I thought it was a good idea at some point and so I have to kinda go with that and see how things progress from here.

I plan to go up there sooner than later (mid-November) and drop a load of stuff. Basics for living and all the junk that has been sequestered in my storage unit for many years. I want to add a deck to the back of the house and I need to talk to someone about that. I need to get the bills in my name and get a discount card at Ingles grocery store. I need to remind myself what this house looks like. I need to reassure myself I am not totally nuts.

On the left is the living room, dining room, kitchen.
My new neighbor is in the photo on the right.






Here, we are walking up the neighbor's drive towards my house, with outbuilding in view. A "branch," not to be confused with a river but perhaps confused with a creek is in the forest, green stuff on the right. The yellowish blur in the background is a mountain-esque thing. The road my road branches off of dead-ends in the Blue Ridge Parkway. Perhaps the mountain-esque thing is related to the Ridge...




And finally looking from the opposite direction at the little side porch. The deck will go across that wide expanse of back-of-house and I hope to one day see doors going from the deck into the LR/K/DR, and master bedroom, and perhaps a ramp for my friends who would like that when they visit. (Thanks to Gini for all the photos and miscellaneous support and encouragement.)

That kinda brings me up to date. I plan to spend the winter packing and enjoying the weather (should we avoid the tropical depression that is forming as I write this) and my dear friends here. Then thoughts are to move in May or June. (I was all set on June and then I remembered the 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic -- June 21st it appears. Priorities dontcha know.)

I am "under contract" on a house in NC

I will write more about it soon. Since Gini said I need to update the blog, here's a photo. Eleven minutes to downtown Weaverville, < 30 min to downtown Asheville. I don't plan to move for a bit. More details coming one day soon.

AARP & Down East Maine

Laurie, one of my best friends from high school, suggested that we should celebrate turning 50 by going to the AARP convention. I thought it was hilarious. Most of the others apparently didn't as only one other person showed up (and it was great fun to see her--thanks Gwill!). We should also give Carla big points for trying to show up but she had to stay home and be awarded some prestigious award as a fancy pants lawyer, but that's her story so I will let her tell it.

We had a blast. We stayed in a verrrrrrry fancy hotel in Boston, high above the Convention center, ate room service pizza and some other stuff, wandered around with a TON of people (something like 25,000 people go to this thing), saw Earth Wind & Fire and Lily Tomlin, also saw Maya Angelou in conversation with Whoopie Goldberg, and finally, watched stalker Laurie chase down Bob Newhart. (OK, it wasn't quite that dramatic but it was fun and funny--she asked him if he was from Cleveland and he said No, that's Tim Conway. Guess you had to be there.) I also blew through the vendor mall and got freebies and brochures and wondered how people chose whether to peddle their wares there or not. It was an interesting selection of vendors which ranged from Home Depot and General Nutrition to realtors in Costa Rica and NOAA (National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration).

Laurie and Gwill are EW&F fans and they liked the concert very much. I recognized some of the songs but as Monica always said to me in college, you like singers who play guitars, so these weren't really on my radar. All I can say is they play the heck out of the music and put on a big fun show, even for a bunch of old guys...Lily Tomlin, who opened that show, was also good though it felt like it went on a bit long. Maya Angelou was to me the standout of the whole experience. She was a riot. Though she came out in a wheelchair, she said she had wanted to run out like a gazelle but it was not to be. Our favorite story was when she talked about birthdays. Up until her most recent (79), she had given a party for herself with presents for the guests. This time, she figured it was time to do something extravagant, ostentatious even as long as it didn't hurt anyone (and as long as it didn't hurt her children too much!). She said, I bought myself a Rolls Royce...and I have two pretty men to drive it. Ha. The audience roared. This was not what we all expected from a woman of her stature.

For your 2008 calendars: the next AARP convention is in Washington DC in September (4-6). Laurie and I already have reservations. Judy Collins, Cal Ripken and Gene Simmons are already signed up--and my favorite: Clinton Kelly from WHAT NOT TO WEAR, my favorite show, will be talking about Dressing over 50. Come on down!!

From Boston, we took the most wonderful bus (Concord Trailways) to a seaside village near where Laurie lives. This is the way flying used to be. The driver was friendly and helpful, the movies (2), pretzels and water were all free and plentiful. It was charming.

And Maine is lovely. I spent part of the time with Laurie and her husband Chris and charming dog, Saver, and part of it with Darla, her hubby Joe and our friend Betsy. All were gracious generous hosts and I saw lots of cool scenery including some large percentage of the 3000 miles of coastline (or whatever it is). I look forward to returning.

Quick Update: Househunting cont'd

Based on the advice of friends and a gut feeling, I DID jump on a plane to North Carolina on two days notice. Of course, I couldn't just bite the bullet and pay $800 for a ticket, I had to noodle around and totally inconvenience myself (and unknowingly endanger my life by some of the driving...) and fly out of Tampa (2 1/2 hours from home) into Greenville SC (1 1/2 hours from my destination). The remarkable thing was--if I had flown into Charlotte and driven from there (2 1/2 hours), it would have cost $600. Instead I flew into Greenville, changing planes in Charlotte, and it cost $200. Go figure 'cause I can't.

I looked at the two houses, one I had seen, one I hadn't, and was very glad I went. It is true: there is nothing like being there. At the one I hadn't seen, the pitch of the property surprised me (not a problem, but surprising), even having driven down the road before and having seen tons of pictures. The kitchen seemed smaller than in the photos. The bottom line was I really liked it. The only problem was the location--and the one thing I know is I can't change that. Well, I could or rather it could be done, but I ain't gonna do it. It was too far from town, no walking on the road with a dog or a friend (too windy and narrow), too easy to be reclusive which could be an issue for a recluse like me. While buying that house seemed like the right thing to do: it was a good price, it was in "move in" condition, it would have been easy, it would have stopped me wasting hours looking at real estate websites, it would have answered one of the zillions of questions bobbing around in this silly little head of mine, I really liked the owner and she needs and wants to sell now; it was not really right, and so the search continues.

Oh, I went to the other house which I had seen before and which is my first (house) love in the area and which is "under contract" but a reportedly shaky one, and I still love it--it's old and funky and has some structural problems that need to be looked at but still, I love it. Apparently a bright shiny low maintenance house does not seem to speak to me. Too bad about that, but we are who we are...We also drove around and looked at a few new 'hoods and I did some poking around and found some other interesting areas and some other interesting houses. But for now, I am going to wait for my next visit at the end of September.

That's all for now. Thanks for your input. I will keep adding as responses come in.

Househunting Online

This is so fun, I have to share. I sent the following email. And after, are the responses. I have such wonderful people in my life. I am verrrrrry lucky.

Subject line: Polling dear friends and trusted advisors
Have you ever or would you ever consider buying a house sight unseen? (I
included Carla, as my ringer, because I know she has done it...TWICE)

Responses (in the order rec'd)
Gini: ABSOLUTELY NOT. I would fly up tomorrow rather than not seeing it. but I think people are clearly different and some people are better at predicting their own reaction than I am. I would need to sit in it.

Evie: I can't imagine doing it even once, let alone twice. How did they work out
for Carla? I hate buying and selling houses enough to say I absolutely never would.

Nancy: Yes, I would. I'd make sure that it had a clean bill of health and that someone whose taste I trusted had had a look at it. In this case I think I'd definitely do it -- there are so many pluses -- size, location, type, and a likely really good investment that I don't think you can go wrong. Of course it's always easier to spend someone else's money!

Leslie: It depends, it depends, it depends. Because you know the area, the realtor,
the hoods, you might consider it. Is it to crazy to fly up and look? I will cross my fingers for you.

John: Just as an investment or to live in? If the latter, forget it! If the former, make sure the land value is equal to the asking price minus the cost of removing the home!
go look at it today!

Darla: No. would not think of it. so many things can be wrong--spoken like someone in the home inspection business...especially in this real estate market. my advice...get in your car and go see it...it will still be there in this market. thatès my two cents, sent to you on a french computer in quebec...

Erica: I might. A Norwegian friend of mine who was living a year in California, made a major financial commitment for a house back home in Tromso, without seeing it but based on the recommendations of friends who had seen it. I volunteer to go see it for you! and so does Kitty who just moved to NC.....But come to think of it, maybe that's how Bonnemaman and Bonpapa ended up with a piece of swamp in Florida. Current worth? $500 (this after over 50 years!)
Anyone for a piece of the Brooklyn Bridge?

Jane: Not sure: would need more details. My inclination would be no but hey........who knows.

Nancy: We bought our Vermont house after looking at it once and being in the area only two weeks. but i can't imagine not seeing it at all. there are so many intangibles - where does the sun set? Are there enough windows?

Chris: Nope--I would never buy a house unseen. . . why not go see?

Deborah: Great question.I might buy a house unseen, but I wouldn't buy it unless I knew the neighborhood, community, schools, train station, recreation, etc. I guess I'm saying the house itself is only one piece of the decision.

Maureen: I have not...but my friend Deborah bought her house in cape cod based on
the recommendation of two friends. She had been looking on the cape...was back home...a house came on the market...the friends went and looked at it...said it was perfect...and she bought it...and she loves it and it's wonderful!!! and if you're not confident...then get your ass on a plane and get up there and see it yourself!!! (not that i want you to leave...) who cares
how much the trip costs!! keep me posted...

Lisa: For me a home has to speak or I have to see the path to make it mine spiritually so no I would not buy a home sight unseen..I would buy one I feel in love with at first sight..is that different?

P&E: When I first read [the poll question], I exclaimed, "Holy s**t, Peggy has lost her mind! I would NEVER buy a house without seeing it!" E was nearby and heard all this so I explained what I was talking about. His response, (and I quote), was "If she were seeing me as a patient and she were going to do this, I'd be filling out that pink form where we get to involuntarily commit a patient to the psych ward for a 48 hour evaluation." I guess you know where we stand!

Emily: M'god. Why would you? The house you live in, rather than invest in, has to speak to you. This sounds like computer dating. What if everything is perfect on paper and on digital camera and you walk in and the shape of the front entrance hall reminds you of a creepy place from your childhood. What if the sunlight is in the wrong part of the house for your routine. Get a plane ticket and go! What could be more fun anyhow.

R: I bought sight unseen in previous years, with success. My husband and I currently own an apartment, furnished, that we paid seven figures for, and we've never seen. We hope to visit it sometime before the end of the year, and we expect some surprises despite all the due diligence, photos, and assurances. We don't mind adventure, and we don't mind creating Plan B if necessary.

Wendy: As to buying a house unseen. Never. But then I'm claustrophobic and light and air are so terribly important to me I'd have difficulty in a place without it. I've had several customers buy places unseen but they've been condos and they've seen similar floor plans and are able to see the location. I agree with your friend who asked why you don't just go and look
at it.

A: I have never bought a house sight unseen but LOVE western North Carolina. A lot of a house is its feel which is not just about the house itself but about the neighborhood, the view, the neighbors, the café up the street. If you haven't seen the house, are you familiar with its surroundings?

Susan: I would fly up immediately and sit in it cause I'm like Gini--I've got to feel it.

J&N: ABSOLUTELY NOT! But the fact that you're flying up to Aville tomorrow I assume means that you'll be seeing the unseen house asap? Good. In general, as good as friends may be and as much as you may trust their tastes, there's no substitute for seeing for your self.

D&E: I was about to say no ... but I have bought houses twice very, very, very quickly. In Seattle, I knew exactly what I wanted, but didn't think I could find it (a townhouse, near bus lines, commercial area, etc.). I looked at several other places, then saw "my place" from the outside and was ready to buy. Looked inside and was even more convinced. Ironically, the realtor I was working with refused to let me put in an offer that day; said I needed to at least sleep on it. The next day, I went over again with some girlfriends, all of whom agreed it was exactly the perfect place for me. We (my beloved Seattle townhouse) lived happily ever after for several years.
How we bought this house was pretty similar. And now I know that both Dick and I have a high capacity for making decisions quickly, when the intuition feels right. If you know that about yourself and this feels right, go for it. And I'm happy to hook you up with my dowser friend to get rid of any bad juju.

Janie: Very interesting idea and I love the responses! NC, here you come! How about this - if you find a house you really think you want to buy, can your realtor put in a bid "contingent upon buyer viewing property" within 3-5 whatever-will-work days? Maybe they won't do it, but you never know if you don't try.

I'd get on a plane and look at it - if you intend to live in it and not just use it as an investment. I'm with Gini on that. But if it's an investment, you want to be sure it will appeal to renters, so a trip up may still be in order.

Peter: only if you a) knew you were only going to stay there for a little while and b) had SOME reason to be confident it could be resold relatively easily, or c) you were buying as a fix it project so that it didn't matter if it needed new floors or whatever....

Sue: I would have little problem buying the house unseen...it's the neighborhood....and what one drives through to get there....I know that Cliff and Monika had this problem when doing this in Portland.....very cute house but a very sketchy hood....

Laurie: Not quite the same, but ... We bought land, designed a house, contracted with foundation/septic people and a builder, without knowing what we were doing. Surround
yourself with folks you like and trust, and everything will work out. Leap of faith.

Sara: First, I think that it would be "easier" to purchase sight unseen as a single person (less risk of blame game stuff). That being said, Scott and Amy bought a house sight unseen by them though they did have very good friends look at it. That too sounds like it has some pitfalls.
Has your real estate agent seen it? If so I'd say go for it. I guess, if I were single and someone who knew me or what I was looking for, saw the house, that I just might go sight unseen.
And heck, if you buy it and don't like it you can always sell it and the worst thing that could happen is that it costs you some money right? But then you would know that you are one of the few that has bought a house sight unseen!

Ellen: I agree with most of the people on your blog. I would never purchase a home sight
unseen. One must bask in the feel of the home. How the house sits in relation to the sun is very important to me. And be careful- you don't want a toilet in the middle of your living or
dining room. Some of those hill people are strange. I know because my sister lives near
Boone, and she is rather strange as well as most of her hill-residing neighbors.

PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 2

Now…Where was I going...and Why?

When I returned to my office from the living room, I had closed the curtains to the afternoon sun, ironed some fabric so that it was ready to cut and sew, turned on the dishwasher, continued to wonder where the can of basting spray is (for sewing, not for roasting turkey), swept the living room (stuff was sticking to my feet as I walked), and picked up miscellaneous laundry strewn about because I live alone and I don’t care that it’s strewn most of the time and I pick it up when I do. The pathetic part was it took me a minute to remember why I had left the office in the first place, and when I did, I realized I had not retrieved my calendar. I believe I am living proof that there is such a thing as Adult Onset ADD.

I know from personal experience that ADD can be pretty serious. It is a challenge for those who have it and even more so for those who are related to those who have it. I apologize for anything offensive here. In light of that possibility, perhaps I should call it Adult Onset MDD (Majorly Distracted Disorder), or perhaps it’s middle age. I am so easily sidetracked--I don’t seem to finish anything in a linear fashion. Often, I wander aimlessly trying to remember what it was I thought I was doing.

But wait--I actually am capable of finishing lots of stuff! Everything on my list eventually, but it doesn’t always happen in the way one might think it would or expect it to.

Recently, I cut myself some slack. I sat down with myself and I said look—these are the things on the list, you know the deadlines, you know the obstacles (appointments, meetings, dog walks, happy hour). Figure it out. The stress level has been cut in half. If I wake up at 3 a.m. and I can’t sleep, something gets done. (Bear, the extraordinarily large hound, has been enjoying the lion’s share of August at his other home where he can swim all day and generally has a more entertaining time, so his sleep is not disturbed by these nocturnal meanderings.)
See! Just now, mid-paragraph, I got up because I heard the dishwasher click off and wanted to turn it off before it started baking the dishes dry (energy waste and who needs any more heat anywhere in Florida in August?) and en route, I stopped at what I like to call Madge’s Fabric Shop (also in the living room), picked out two fabrics that are going to complete the quilt that has been covering the dining room table for a couple weeks, had a beverage and some lunch and now I am back. No harm no foul, but where’s the continuity here?

And therein lies the question: is there harm in being someone who can’t stay on task but is on many tasks all at once? I don’t know, but the buzzer is ringing to let me know the eggs are hardboiled and I have got to get the laundry out of the washer and flip the book-on-tape tape. You figure it out and get back to me. Thanks.

Things I am Learning and Other Miscellaneous Observations

• Next month, I am going to Boston for the AARP convention. My high school classmates and I are celebrating our 50th birthdays this year and I guess it was Laurie thought it would be a funny thing to do. Looks like it’s going to be a small gathering but hanging out with Laurie is worth the trip—the rest of ‘em will be gravy. Recently, I was reading “The Sweet Potato Queens’ Field Guide to Men” by Jill Conner Brown and she said about high school reunions beyond #25: “Everybody is kinda over themselves by this point. You’re no longer ‘fixing to’ do anything; you’re pretty much doing it or happy to admit that you’re just not gonna do it ever and it’s okay. There’s not much mystery about how you’ll turn out. You’ve already turned out about as much as you’re going to.” Words to live by.
• The other day I was thinking about…well, feet. And I thought of my mother who I thought had perfect feet. They were the same size as everyone else’s, the toes curved over just the way they are supposed to and they were just perfect. I, on the other hand, inherited my father’s although mine are not flat—just incredibly long and skinny with toes that go on for days. I have come to like them after many years. I have recovered from the attractive shoe salesman who said, “Why would you want to put shoes on those canoes?” (I was 16 and having enough trouble with life and self esteem and body image, thank you very much.) Anyway, I realized, I did get one thing from my mother: I have her baby toes. They are perfect…and that’s probably enough of that.

North Carolina Update

This pnewsings combined with the blogging is confusing me, in a not all-bad way. I wrote in a June blog about my visit to Asheville—I suspect no one reads it but the problem is I think I have already said it. The confusing part. The short version is I liked it a lot—Asheville that is. I went back in early August after weeks of perusing real estate ads online. I was armed with a list of houses that looked interesting all over Buncombe County (Nancy told me it’s pronounced like the second syllable rhymes with the first: “bun-come.” Phew I got around that.) and the name of a highly recommended realtor. I stayed with Patsy and Ernie again but I spent most of my time on the road, logging over 300 miles, not to mention the three adventures with the realtor.

I found the driving entertaining. Someone steals road signs out in the boonies. Why is up for discussion…my realtor said it’s kids, another person said it was because people don’t want you to be able to find them. Well, I couldn’t find much of anything. I stopped out in the middle of nowhere with the map spread out and the cutest guy stopped to ask if I was lost, and I said, “Yes, but I have been for several days now so I am getting used to it.” He laughed, and drove off. Yet another missed opportunity. Then there’s the problem of missing signs and roads that jog uncontrollably hither and yon. I stopped at an intersection and another handsome gent pulled up. I said, “I’m looking for Turkey Creek Road…” and he paused and chuckled, and I said, “I mean the part that goes THAT way…” (As opposed to the part I had already been on.) He helped me get going the right way or that is the correct direction. It was a challenge. I have always thought of myself as having a good sense of direction--apparently not in the hills of western North Carolina though.

So I looked at several different communities and tons of houses from the outside. I eliminated several areas because they were too far away from something or it didn’t feel like there was any “there” there or the houses were too new or the opportunity for putting in a huge new development was too close or the I’s weren’t dotted and the T’s weren’t crossed. And then Lisa the realtor and I went inside some places and there were even more reasons to eliminate them. A couple we hardly went in the driveway much less inside—we could smell the funk from the street. I love house-hunting. It is highly addictive. I have spent a lot of time wandering the real estate websites (endless opportunities) and getting inside is even better--looking at nooks and crannies and inside closets etc. It’s legitimate snooping.

I found a house I loved just before leaving. It, of course, sold the day I decided to think about maybe possibly putting in an offer. Everyone says, “…then it wasn’t meant to be.” Yeah, well, whatever. I have since found another “perfect place” and am wondering what to do next. I check each morning to see if it has sold. I don’t know if there is any activity on it, but it sits on my computer screen, silent, clean, empty. I asked Sue who will be vacationing in the area this week if she would call my realtor and swing by. She said she would try but feels it is way too big a responsibility, having a yea or nay opinion.

What the heck is going on here? I hear you cry. I don’t know. I love parts of the life here in Southwest Florida. It’s lovely, the birds are so cool. I have people, a place. But I don’t see myself living here forever and if that’s the case and there’s some place else that looks interesting, why not? And one of the many things I learned in moving here is that there are fabulous people everywhere. How cool is that? Onward!...?

"Sometimes you count the days, sometimes you weigh them.” Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

Summer Reading

I have been on a tear--Gini loaned me two books and I read them both in a couple days which is highly unsual. And then and then...will add more as I have them to add. I have also been blasting through books on tape. Can't seem to get enough.

In no particular order...
Crashing Through. Robert Kurson. The true story of a guy who gets his eyesight back after over 40 years.
Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen. Charming book about a circus.
The Road, Cormac McCarthy. Grim fascinating depressing quick read, did I mention grim?
On Beauty, Zadie Smith. Good writing, quirky families. Story set on a college campus.
Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert. Several people recommended this and it is wonderful. Particularly good for women of a certain age--anything over 30 for instance. Five star recommendation.
Alec Delaware mystery (any), Jonathan Kellerman. He's hunky. (Delaware, that is--don't care much about Kellerman, frankly)
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer. Wonderfully written story of a kid dealing with a post 9/11 world.
Final Exam, Pauline Chen. My brother David recommended this. It contains insight into end of life through the eyes of a surgeon. Tough but interesting. Not exactly beach reading.
Prep, Curtis Sittenfeld. The novel follows a young woman from Indiana to a prep school in the NE. Charming painful reminder of high school, even if i didn't go to a prep school in the NE.

I couldn't resist

Here's the boy, Senor Baru Bear, last month. I swear his head is getting bigger. My neighbor said that happens to a lot of us. He, the dog not the neighbor, has since dismembered the stuffed pal his head is resting on.

How it can take someone 30 hours to go from San Francisco to SWFL by air

Thurs June 28
• Leave Fitch house 8:15 am PT
• Arr SFO 9:15 am PT (did the Fisherman’s Wharf/Union Sq tour on Super Shuttle)
• 10:45 flight delayed to 3:15 pm PT(stood in line for TWO hours at customer service to re-schedule ORD-RSW which was brilliant b/c waiting til ORD, all flights would have been booked)
• Arr ORD (O’Hare) 9:18 pm CT. Stand in line at customer service to waitlist on 6:31am flight to Charlotte (CLT?)
Attempt sleep 11:30-5 (those recordings about leaving your luggage unattended indeed go all flippin night)
Fri June 29
Got on Charlotte flight which miraculously left ON TIME (or I was so tired I didn’t notice)
Got on standby list for CLT – RSW, supposed to leave at 10:15 am ET, left at 2-ish (by this time, who cares)
Arr RSW 3:30 pm ET. Had to wait for all bags to come off to prove to the nice woman they hadn’t made the same flights I did.
Pick up Baru Bear the Big Dog. Arrive home around 5 pm ET. 29.75 hours later. I think
Sat June 30
6:45 am ET: phone rings--the nice man from the courier company is close by with one suitcase from US Airways (I flew United but was re-routed via US Airways ORD-CLT-RSW)
10 am: Woman with heavy accent calls from United in RSW. (I have to spell out the name of my street including "Box.") They have my other bag and it will be delivered between 11:30 and 3.
12:15 pm The nice man from the courier company calls, sounding a bit confused. "I have a bag from United for you--wasn't I just there with one from US Airways?"

Everything works out in the end. Now that wasn't so bad was it? I still wonder if the guy ahead of me in line ever got to Paris. Last I heard, he left SFO on Thursday and he expected to get to Frankfurt on Sunday, with no idea how he'd get to Paris where he started school on Monday. He said, "I feel like I am in the middle of what will some day be a great story."

The Dirty Laundry Tour of Northern CA

Another successful tour of the Bay Area has come to a close. My annual journey to see as many friends as I can over two weeks was good fun. Again, just about everyone seemed to be in pretty good shape. Not bad. And again, I left behind a string of crumpled bed linens and damp towels. You are all good for allowing me to do that. Thanks!

I went from San Francisco to East Bay (Albany) to Santa Cruz to Aptos to Carmel to San Francisco to Marin to oh darn I probably missed a few. It was good to catch up and fun to see how easy it is to slip back in. I had fabulous weather while I was there and everything there remains pretty familiar. (One of the ongoing themes was passport issues. Since it was summer, friends were preparing for departure to exotic lands. Because of the new rules that one needs a passport to fly to Canada and Mexico, the passport offices are hugely backed up. I heard horror stories at several stops. Get your passports early--like six months or more!)

Our annual Angel Island picnic (#26) was once again a resounding success. The next generation is getting older--though the older generation (myself included) remain young and vibrant--and they seem to continue to embrace this tradition. Funny how satisfying that is! We camped two nights with a changing line up of campers. A good time was had by all. I already have it on my recently purchased itty-bitty 2008 calendar: Angel Island #27 will be on June 21, the Summer Solstice.

PNewS website still exists

I have hope that some day soon, I will figure out how to use it better. The address there is http://home.comcast.net/~pnewl.

For now, there's archived material--all the back issues--at http://home.comcast.net/~pnewl/tblcontents.html.

In some browsers, you can even see the pictures from our Central America trip. (Aha! Go to this address and you can see those photos: http://home.comcast.net/~pnewl/photos.html or get the link from the diary page. Must be some funky html on my part on the home page...SORRY.)

That's all for now. I have a plane to catch. More on the other side.

North Carolina...hmmmm

I went to a fabulous quilt symposium north of Asheville and can't get it out of my head. Sometimes, SWFL is a bit hot, for like half the year. I get tired of that. My dog gets tired of that. The bugs in summer are HORRID. And sometimes the size of the community (teeny) makes me claustrophobic.

In other ways, I love it here. It's beautiful no matter what. The water is mesmerizing. The birds are cool. The summer skies almost make the icky parts OK. I have my people, a place. It's a good thing. But one of the many things I learned in moving here is that there are fabulous people everywhere--perhaps I want to test this theory by moving again.

So I went to the Asheville area, hung out with Patsy and Ernie who have created a wonderful life, and felt quite at home. And I think that area may be one that embodies some of the things that are missing in this area: hills, for one. Young people, for another--the average age of residents of Buncombe County is 39.7: I would be old there! (I recently spent more time than I want to think about in O'Hare and was boggled by the number of small children (and how young their parents are!) and it came to me belatedly that I live in a place with a lot of older people and not so many youngsters. Oh my and duh!) Oh and there are others...

And here're more reasons to move there (from the virtual magazine at imagesasheville.com): AARP declared it as one of the best places to "reinvent your life;" Farmers Insurance Group ranked it one of the most secure places to live; and my personal favorite--Self Magazine says it is the "America's Happiest City for Women"--do you think that means there are no men or tons of men???

It also occurred to me that I could make this just the first of a few more moves. Say I give each place a max of 10 years or so...I could have a good three moves left in me. Since Martha offered to take care of me when I am old and dotty...or dottier, perhaps i will leave Missoula for the post-70s...then there's Portland OR...and Jackson WY. Yup, time to get moving...

PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 1

REMINDER
26th Annual
Angel Island Picnic
Perles Beach
Saturday, June 23
Be there or
Be square

Heart Breaking, Back Breaking

I reached over and squeezed Sara’s forearm. “Does that hurt?” She looked at me with that look she has looked at me with for over 30 years:”What? Are you nuts?” We had been gutting homes in New Orleans for five solid days, a few of which involved hours of beating sheetrock into submission. We are not professionals. Everything hurt, in a good way.

I have felt negligent in not going to New Orleans since Katrina and my 50th birthday seemed like a good excuse. Darla, whose friend Betsy is better about getting up and doing than I am and now has been six times, offered to organize the work part leaving only the play part in my less-than-capable-these-days hands. Betsy had worked with the Episcopal Diocese of Louisiana and so Darla connected with them. Their organization is phenomenal--run, for the most part, by 20-somethings--and my father would have liked it. An all around good combination.

Five of us drove from Sanibel and two flew in from other locales. We stayed in housing provided by the Diocese--a dorm set up in what must have been an office with cubicle walls separating some of the beds. Fortunately there were only seven of us with 26 beds to choose from. With the bed next to me literally six inches away, I was glad it held my clothing and not another worker.

Each morning, we met across town for a briefing about our workday and then we toodled off to New Orleans East or the Lower 9th Ward or wherever they told us to go. The briefings included some background on the homeowner (age, experience in The Storm, current location--some were in nursing homes or hospitals out-of-state), description of the property (whether there was stuff inside, whether the homeowner planned on returning) and what our work would entail. Our crew leaders were college students who handled us and the work professionally and with respect. There was a lot of talk about respect--mostly with regards to the people we were working for. The homeowners had had unimaginable experiences and we needed to be respectful of them and their privacy. It was shocking, working with other groups, how many needed that reminder.

At first, I found it hard to walk into the “contents houses”--the ones that still held people’s stuff, their lives in photographs and clothes and kitchen stuff. It seemed so voyeuristic. I felt like I was intruding. And then I watched others doing it and, of course, thought I could do it more efficiently so I had to go inside and once in, had the understanding of why WE need to be there. Rifling through my own prized possessions with a coating of mud and mold and other debris, having survived all that had gone on in the past 20 months? I can’t imagine how exhausting and overwhelming it would be. No matter what an awkward and intimate experience it was to me, we needed to do it for them, with concern and respect and compassion. Many of us made up stories of the man with three wheelbarrows full of flashy shirts, the other guy with the exercise equipment, adult videos, and business management books.

On the other hand, the days of gutting left me with a physical feeling of accomplishment. At the end of each day, I felt better for the people who could now move forward, but throughout the work days, I was impressed by what we accomplished and pleased that my body was able to do the work. (I am now, after all, 50 years old!) When one of the homeowners arrived to help, he looked at the work we had done and he said something about how long it would have taken him to do this on his own while he was working fulltime. It felt really good to be there. And it felt really really good to take a shower each afternoon, scraping the drywall dust off my arms, shaking the bits of house out of my hair.

But it wasn’t all work and showers, and no play! We ate verrrrrry well. We went to the Jazz Festival and heard great music (and were run off by the humongous crowds). We wandered through the French Quarter and took in the scene. We supported the local economy. I had good long visits with good longtime friends (can’t say old friends any more because people might get the wrong impression.) A good time was had by all. At least, I hope so. One of my favorite comments after the fact was from Darla: “I’ve never enjoyed anyone’s 50th birthday so much...and for so long!”

Things I am Learning &
Miscellaneous Observations

• I think being boring or dull is one of the worst possible things to be called. One of the folks on “Survivor” said two of the women were dull or boring or maybe both and I thought, OUCH. On national television! It was worse to me than what he called the creepy guy.
• Quarters are real money--not like those namby-pamby nickels and dimes. People tease me about my pill bottle full of them in my purse and I say--that’s ten bucks and I am ready when confronted by a pay phone or a soda machine or a copy machine or a Laundromat or a newspaper box. Don’t use those things? Really?
• I just read a really sad story by a guy named Mike Tidwell, who wrote a book called Bayou Farewell, predicting a storm like Katrina. I read his next book called The Ravaging Tide, which predicts that well, frankly, we’re all hosed. The coastal areas will be hit by more storms; the interior parts of countries will be further devastated by freaky weather. It’s global warming with specifics. He calls the entire continent of Africa our Lower 9th Ward. Sigh. I don’t know how he sleeps at night, much less how he gets out of bed in the morning.
So I am living my little life, trying to be a good global citizen, and thought I have to do something--if only a small something--to deal with all this travel we are doing. So I googled around and asked another group of really smart women I know and I bought “carbon offsets” for my siblings who were here and for the air travel I know I will be doing this year and while I was at it, for my house and car. Will it make a difference? I like to think so. I can tell you more, give you names of organizations that were recommended to me. Just ask. You can also ask if you need names of organizations in New Orleans that you could support. I always have ideas of places to send money!
• I was reminded recently of an expression about Californians--that they tilted the continent and all the loose nuts (or some equivalent) rolled to California. Well, I think there is something equally unflattering that could be said when they tilted the continent heading towards Florida--I haven’t worked it all out, but I will.
• I read an article around the Super Bowl about what happens to all the gear (t-shirts, caps, etc) they print up for the team that loses but which shows they won. There are rules sent down from the National Football League (and I assume the baseball basketball hockey cricket soccer figure skating etc folk) that those items will never be seen in the U.S. (Not even on ebay, according to the article!) There is, in the case of the NFL, a charity (World Vision) that distributes them to people who can wear them far from our watchful eyes, in “developing” countries. It reminded me that I bought a t-shirt in Indonesia for the World Series Champion Cleveland Indians when they weren’t. The difference there was that I bought it at a department store in a fancy mall in Jakarta. Wonder how they got there...fell off the charity truck?

Life is NOT Boring

I moved to this sleepy little island off the coast of Florida in hopes of simplifying my life. I wanted to get healthy, do good work, and make quilts. Some of that has worked out. The problem is this is not a sleepy little town and things ain’t simple.

I have heard many times--and could use a good quote to the effect--it is impossible to control one’s life and the harder we try, the more out of control things get. I am living proof.
I moved to this place where a lot of others moved who were realllllly successful in an earlier life at another location and who thought they were going to kick back only they really aren’t wired to do that so they wind up being as busy as they were in the real world doing wonderful things for the environment, and the arts, and politics, only in shorts and sandals, and it exhausts me. Somehow, I got caught up in it and suddenly, I have to carve out time to do what I want to do or nothing. I hide to have free time. It’s not what I expected.

This winter, Gini and I chaired our women’s group’s annual fundraiser. What was I thinking? It was a lot of work, and working with a group of strong intelligent capable women is akin to herding cats. Cats with feelings. Some days I wanted to shoot them all. Some days, I could have kissed...well, at least a few of them. Through it all, I had to remind myself that the money we raise will help many people and I actually saw the forest for the trees. It was beyond challenging.

Meanwhile, there’s plenty of other stuff going on, and oh yeah, the dog and siblings visits and parents being gone and my computer took a dive and when fixing it they broke the case which meant three more two-hour-round-trips to the fix it place then... But most of it’s good--though not boring--and I am not complaining though you could probably detect a whine in there somewhere, but then again, it wouldn’t be me without it.

Welcome to PNewL PNewS

After 15 years of printing this and then putting it up on a website, I am finally going to stop fighting the trends and go to a blog. I can't remember how long I have been fighting this but Deborah Branscum suggested it around the time she moved to Sweden so you could ask her.

I will continue to attempt to put together a bi-monthly edition which I will remind you of, but I may also add a few things in the meantime. I am trying to work out all this new technology. I went to the bother (enjoyed it actually) to learn to write HTML and now I have to start all over again, so bear with me. I am only about six months behind in getting this most recent edition out--the next step shouldn't take that long but you never know. It's hot here in Florida so we hibernate.

Hope this finds you all AOK. Keep in touch.
Peggy