How bizarre

We are in Boston this weekend, staying in our apartment. It feels very strange to be here.

Kent’s known for years that I can’t relax and sleep in when I’m at home. I have things to do and seem to be incapable of just chilling out. But last night I slept for almost 11 hours and didn’t get up until almost 8 AM. That’s a pretty clear sign this isn’t home any more.

We have the place staged with a bed, a couple of small chairs, area rug and TV console plus a small dining room table and two chairs. So it’s more comfortable than, say, a hotel room but it’s not all that convenient in terms of fixing food or anything. Last night we watched old TV shows on Kent’s laptop through our Amazon Prime membership (hurrah for free video streaming!).

Today we’ve been knocking out some chores around the place (the patio needed to be weeded), and tomorrow we’ll hang out with friends before I catch a flight home.

I’ve decided that Boston is a great place to be but not a great place for me to live.  

While I was waiting

That’s the story of this week.

I’ll summarize:

I’ve passed three interviews with a company—let’s call them Company A—I would love to work for. I had two interviews last week and then an interview on Tuesday. My contact there knew I had a contract I needed to sign and return for the KC job.

And the KC job is through a dear friend of mine. I’d told her a couple of weeks ago that I was still looking for permanent work, and that I was still in the running for the job with Company A. She didn’t seem to care. Well when things heated up more this week, I dropped her an email because I didn’t want to screw up her project by coming on board and then maybe ditching her in a month or so.

We talked briefly right before lunch today and I gave her some names of people in the KC area who might be interested in the job. I just heard back from her about 20 minutes ago that she was able to find someone local.

So on the one hand, I just cost myself a job opportunity. But on the other hand, I am staying home where I belong.

Gotta say my head hurts and I think a glass or two of wine may be in order.

Oh and the waiting bit? Between noon and 4:30 today, I’ve sewn up a fleece jacket. That’s what I did while I was waiting.

Mandatory fun

Do you have mandatory social events at work?

We do. And today’s my lucky day. We have a picnic at the company owner’s house from 2:30 to 5:30. I don’t know about you, but 2:30 isn’t lunch time and it’s sure not dinner time either. So basically I’ll be at this social event up here in New Hampshire which means my evening commute will start later than usual. That’s never a good thing on a Friday in Boston, especially a Friday with good weather.

Don't get me wrong. I like most of my co-workers just fine; I like Kent and the kitties and home even better.

Regional differences

I’ve just spent two of the last three weeks square in the middle of the country. The first week I was in Little Rock, Arkansas and this week I’ve been in Texas—far western Texas to be sure, but technically still in the Midwest. Just don’t tell any Texan that, I’m pretty sure most of them still believe Texas is a separate country.

What I realized over and over again is just how friendly Midwestern people tend to be toward everyone. I know surface friendliness isn’t the same as genuine friendships—but it’s really nice to be greeted by smiles by people who aren’t afraid of having a conversation with a stranger. I’ve missed that openness these last three years. I’ve missed it a lot.

This week I also got to enjoy something else that’s a rare commodity in Boston—sunshine. Lots and lots of sunshine. It’s cloudy this morning in San Antonio but the rest of the past week I enjoyed nothing but pure sun with hardly a puff of clouds in the sky. I’ve practically gorged myself on sunshine.

I’ve loved both of those things—sunny people and sunny weather. But this part of the country isn’t home any more, although truthfully Boston isn’t home in the sense that I love and miss the city. But it’s where Kent is and where the kitties are and that’s what makes a place a home for me these days. So back I go to joyless people and dreary weather which are more than made up for by an amazing man and three nutty cats.

I missed you too

How did a week pass since I last posted?

For some reason, I’ve had a little more trouble readjusting to the Eastern time zone this go-round—mostly I just can’t fall asleep at my normal time which makes getting up really hard too.

Today is the trial run with a potential cat sitter. We met her Friday after I got back from Hawaii (I am confident I looked as stupid as I felt, man was I tired) and neither of the boy kitties hissed at her. In fact Eddie deigned to allow her to pet him. She used to work at our vet’s and is now in nursing school and also appears impossibly young. She’s stopping by this afternoon while I’m at work to see how the cats behave when Kent and I are not here. She charges a little bit more than the Cat Nanny but it would still be cheaper (and better for the cats) than having one boarded at the vet’s AND paying for a cat sitter.

I feel a little bad for the Cat Nanny though. I’ve mentioned before that she is disabled (had a bone infection in her hip almost 10 years ago); the money she earns caring for cats helps supplement that and I know we’ve been a good customer. But at the end of the day, I need to take care of my cats, not the nanny. I still feel bad.

Wally has been needy this week with me, swarming me when I get home and generally acting like Velcro—unless he’s getting into things. I sometimes think he does that just to get the attention. Bad attention, good attention, he doesn’t care.

Home again, home again

Against long odds, our flights didn't get canceled yesterday and we are home, In about an hour, we'll be able to fetch Eddie from the vet's where he's been kenneled. Then Wally will hiss at him for a couple of days because he will smell like the vet's which Wally hates (he even hisses at himself when he gets back from there).

And oh yes, we did get snow in Boston.

What a greeting

I’ve been swarmed and draped on from the moment I set my bags down in the house. Last night they stayed close to me and followed me from room to room, nearly tripping me as cats often do. Once in bed, I ended up having to throw off most of the covers because all three had to be touching me, and those little cat bodies make great heaters.

The Cat Nanny dropped by last night (thankfully before I went to bed). She wasn’t positive what time I was scheduled to get home and wanted to make sure the cats’ routine didn’t get disrupted which I appreciated a lot. So I got a chance to visit with her and even better, the cats got to see that I was A OK with her being there. Eddie hissed a few times as did Wally but they’ve always done that. The Cat Nanny tends to forget that. So I reminded her, and mentioned that they hiss at anyone who has a male cat. Plus I told her how they act normally, which is pretty bizarre. She sent me a note this morning thanking me for the insights into how they are wired and said they truly are complicated cats.

None of the cats is Siamese although the rescue place where I got Chloe said she is part Siamese. Her markings back that up although generally she’s not as chatty as the Siamese cats I’ve had in the past. Well this morning, I’m rethinking that notion. She will not shut up! And Eddie—who I know doesn’t have any Siamese in him—talked for about 30 minutes in the middle of the night last night and only settled down after I pulled him close and petted him vigorously.

Today is all about laundry and defurring the house. And petting stressed out kitties, which also has a calming effect on me. Win/win all around.

I think I was missed

I have Wally sitting on my desk with his face up against the exhaust fan of my laptop (he likes the warm air blowing on him). Eddie is pretending to be a monorail cat looking something like this across the top of my chair. And Chloe is milling around at my feet.

It’s good to be home. It would be even better if Kent were here too but he’s in Detroit this week and some of next week also. Then I leave for Hawaii. Rotten timing, huh. But this beats unemployment by a long shot.

Edited to add that last night when I went to bed, I got swarmed and then Eddie insisted on getting under the covers with me. He does this by yelling (there's no other way to describe it) and head butting. Then he snuggled me. There's something very comforting about a warm kitty body pressed up against you purring away. At least it is to me; I know others who would be horrified at the thought of a cat under the covers. Your loss!

Swarmed

I got home last night with very tight back muscles from lots of driving while out in Wyoming and also from carrying around my backpack and toting my suitcase yesterday (I rarely check a bag). So the first thing I did after giving Kent a quick hug was to lie down on our thick rug and relax my back. That put me in the perfect (purfect?) position to get swarmed by the kitties.

And they continued swarming all night long. All three cycled through with meows for attention followed by loud purrs as I roused long enough to pet them. I know cats can have a reputation for being cold and selfish; I just wish those who thought that way could see how I’m greeted when I return from a trip. Our three are quite social, warm and interactive with me. As you can see in the picture on the left, Eddie is lying in the chair behind me as I write this entry. He just wants to be close to me.

Soooooooooooo close

Kent and I just destroyed our to do list this weekend. We have minor touch ups left but that's about it. I am so relieved to have our apartment feeling more like home.

Whew

I’ve been gone three out of the last four weeks and the first crazy rush of business travel is over. I cannot tell you how glad I am the next trip has been postponed. I was scheduled to leave for Hawaii this Sunday, hold meetings Monday and Tuesday and fly back Tuesday night. In other words, I’d have spent as much time getting there and back as actually on the ground working. I find it really weird that getting to Hawaii from Boston will take about 19 hours, while getting from Kansas City to Beijing, China took 25 hours.

And I think this is the year I end up needing reading glasses. Some days, everything works pretty well, although generally my eyes struggle first thing in the morning when I’m using my Netbook. Along about midday, everything pulls together although I prefer a lot more light when I read. I used to wonder why my mother complained about it being too dark to read in my house—I get it now. But just when I’m ready to make that eye appointment, I’ll have no problems reading, I’ll thread the needle on the first try every single time and I’ll decide to wait.

If you have reading glasses, what made you go ahead and get them?

A very random list

I wrote this last week while I was in Wisconsin. I’d never been there before and found it to be remarkably like the Kansas City area in terms of geography. I’m sure the winters are more extreme, and maybe the summers are hotter. I felt positively nostalgic when I saw typical Midwestern sights while I was there—I saw billboards for Love’s truck stop, the Black Cat Fireworks stores and I stayed in a Holiday Inn that probably hasn’t been redecorated since the 1960s. I took a video just so you could see the horribleness of the room, but apparently I deleted it. The room had both a king size bed and a Murphy's bed and the ceiling was in three distinct pieces like a modular home. Very odd.

Wednesday night I had dinner at Ed’s Tee Pee Supper Club. Seriously, that was the name. I was really surprised to walk into the restaurant and see people smoking there. I guess I’ve lived in Boston long enough to forget about smoking in a restaurant.

Friday as I headed south to Madison, I almost hit a turkey as it took off flying low over the road. I’ve never seen a wild turkey flying and I struggled to make sense of what I was seeing—almost to the point of hitting the damn thing.

I’m glad I got to visit a part of the Midwest I haven’t seen before. I was also very glad to get home again. I’ll be gone for two weeks this month so having a week at home first is refreshing.

This list is pretty random and consists mostly of things that make me go “huh?”

• I don’t get smoking as something pleasurable.
• I am completely baffled by couples who share a Facebook page. You really need to be that enmeshed?
• The same thing is true for email addresses. Come on, they are free, get your own.
• I will never understand sports fans who so hate another team that they threaten physical harm to the players or the fans—and seem to mean it.
• I don’t get people who relocate to be near grandchildren. Are you that positive your children want you that close by? And what happens if they move?
• Why do people wear pajamas out in public; for example, to run errands or go to class?
• Why does one of my cats drool when he’s apparently very happy?
• What makes someone think it’s a good idea to hold a personal telephone call while in a public bathroom?

Kitty stress

We are moved in, although everything is still a chaotic mess. On Friday, Bostonian (the company who did a lot of the cleaning and restoration) brought the things they'd boxed up back to the apartment, about 60 boxes. It's very odd and random what they packed out and what they tossed because some of the items they brought back are clearly not usable any more. In most cases, those boxes were also wrapped in large plastic bags, probably because the contents were wet when packed. For example, Kent's power tools were in a canvas carry all under the bed which meant they were all under the water line. But the bag and the tools were returned. Of course the tools don't work and the bag is disgusting, but we have it here.

In addition to all that stuff which we haven't begun to put away, we also had three car loads of things to bring over from our temporary apartment, plus the cats in their carriers. We did as much as possible to mitigate the stress for the cats. We did all our packing at the temporary apartment yesterday morning, and didn't leave the kitties alone until we brought them home. While we packed, Eddie cried, Chloe talked and Wally hid under the hood of my coat. Of course you can't explain change to animals and they're pretty unsettled. All three have been running around crying and crying, and of course getting into every box they can reach.

And Wally, the plastic eating freak, ate enough plastic last night to make him throw up spectacularly. So after dinner, we removed plastic from every box and put it all outside, plus made sure he couldn't slither into boxes. He loves to do that and often knocks the box over while he's inside it.

Last night he found a spot on the new couch to be calm for all of about 30 seconds. That's when I got this picture.

We have walls

Yes, after four—FOUR—months, we have walls again. Those white boxy things you see are our two new HVAC systems. They are split ductless systems and will both heat and cool the space. There's a unit outside about the same size as a heat pump, and the pipes that run out there are hidden in our new walls.

There's no place like home, part 3

I flew back yesterday from Washington, DC, where I’d spent the week attending a conference for work. (As a quick aside, Tuesday night I attended a gala which was truly a gala, and not at all what I expected. The National Guard Youth Foundation puts the gala on and has a lot of corporate donors so it was pretty swanky.)

But what I really want to write about is the flight back. I’ll leave out the details around American Airlines canceling all their flights from DC to Boston and then telling me they could get me home on Sunday. I flew home on US Air instead and sat in a window seat next a daughter and her father en route from Dayton, OH. The father’s name was Victor, and I think the daughter’s name was Victoriann but she was soft spoken and I’m not positive I heard her correctly. She auditions at Berklee today on violin and then they fly home.

She was nervous about flying and the flight was a little turbulent at first. So I chatted just a little with her in hopes of distracting her—I told her that normally planes land from the east at Logan so we’d fly over the Atlantic Ocean as we came in, unless the winds were wonky. In that case, I said, we would come in from the south. I asked her a few questions about her upcoming audition and then as the flight settled down we both returned to our music.

Once we broke through the clouds on our descent, I wished I’d asked her if she wanted the window seat because she was clearly trying to see things. So I pointed out landmarks to her. I asked her if she ever watched the show Fringe (she did) and I showed her the John Hancock Tower and told her the show said it was the FBI headquarters but it wasn’t really. I wanted to show her the Prudential but it was gloomy enough that I don’t think she’d have known what she was seeing. But as I pointed things out to her I realized that uh-oh maybe Boston is home after all.

In the taxi on the way to the apartment, I looked around at things like the Charles River (which has thawed) and the Citgo sign over by Fenway and thought that I know more about this place than I realized.

There's no place like home, part 2

This whole post was sparked by my new job, where quite a few of the people I work with are from New Hampshire. They may have left briefly for college or been career military folks but they came back. They have a quiet sense of belonging there that’s not the same as what I’ve seen in the Midwest or even here in Boston. I’m not sure I can describe it very well except to say native Bostonians are positive they are the elite (which somewhat explains why the city called the Hub, as in the Hub of the universe). And Midwesterners are a little more ebullient about being from a place, especially if it happens to be either Lawrence or Manhattan, KS.

This notion of belonging is something I’ve thought about for most of my life because I’ve been such a nomad. As best I can recall, I moved 12 times before I graduated from high school—that’s assuming we lived in one place in Connecticut where I was born, and lived in just one house in Overland Park when my brother was born. As an adult and before marrying Kent, I lived in 21 different places. Since Kent and I married, I’ve lived in another six places. So if my sums are correct and I haven’t left any out, that means I’ve lived in 37 different places.

When asked where I’m from, I usually claim Philadelphia. I spent my summers there with my step-mother and father beginning when I was four and ending when I was 12. I returned there off and on in high school and once stationed in New Jersey, I drove down there a couple of times every month until I was transferred to Germany. More than any other house, that one remained a familiar constant to me. But the truth is I’m not really from there either.

It’s funny what makes us feel connected to a place. I lived in Cape Girardeau, Missouri for four years and I am not from there. My brother, who is just 11 months younger than I am, lived there five years and he’ll claim Cape. His sense of place may be also shaped by having moved to the Kansas City area in the mid-1980s where he’s lived ever since.

One thing our flood situation did for me was sharpen my definition of home. I used to think of home as being synonymous with where I lived. Now I think of home as being anywhere Kent, the kitties and I are together. Maybe that sense of home will replace my desire to be from someplace.

I had Kent read this and he pointed out that I define home as where people are because I’ve never had home mean a specific building. He also said (and he’s right on this one) that one of the reasons I purge my belongings a lot is because I’m always getting ready to move again.

There’s no place like home

I’ve lived in Boston about 18 months now, and mostly felt as though I’m just sort of visiting for a long time. It hasn’t felt like home. Not in the sense where I’m glad when my plane lands just because I’m in Boston—obviously I’m always glad to be back with Kent and the kitties. But to be glad because I’m in Boston? No, I haven’t experienced that yet. In fact, except for one time on the roof deck of the bed and breakfast Brad and Kerry stayed in last August, I haven’t even thought Boston was all that pretty. (By the way, that B&B is directly across the street from our place.)

Monday night as I drove home from the first day of work in New Hampshire, I saw the city from 93 heading south down a pretty long hill. The skyline was framed and the buildings were lit because it was dark, and I actually caught my breath. It reminded me of driving into Kansas City from the west along I-70—the first time you see the skyline, it’s just really pretty. As a quick aside, it always makes me think of Frank Baum and the Wizard of Oz since somewhere I heard or read that he modeled Oz after Kansas City. I don’t know if that’s true or not, although I’d like it to be.

Anyway—I’m still not sure how much I love Boston or how much like home it feels. I’ll find out in about 10 days because I have a business trip to Washington, D.C. I’m interested to see if I’m glad to be in Boston then, or if it’s still only that I’m glad to be with Kent.