Shhhh!

I'm running away from home. Don't tell anyone, I need enough time to put space between me and these passion-suckers before they notice. I'm wondering how long it will take to swim across the pond.....

Well, the worst of the storm has passed us. You were all so sweet in your concern for me and my family. I was only worried about losing power to the computer, and I didn't (thus the new template). I don't want to be too flippant about the storm, some got smacked hard. Flights and Ferries were cancelled, train schedules disrupted, sea front homes were instantly in the sea. A lot of folks will be without power for quite a while, and wow, if you could've seen the commute (or lack of) through the Dartmouth Tunnel!
So thank you for your kind comments and for missing me the couple of hours I didn't blog.


So, on to Monday's Mission:

Pssst! Over here! Remember me? Ummm, I have been hearing you mumble under your breath. Things like, "You just wait, one day I'll be gone..." and "Everyday people are wiped off this earth, but not me... I just keep going and going and going..." and I'm wondering,
you will be taking me, right?

Remember when we first met, how you kept telling me I was beautiful? I hadn't had anyone look at me so lovingly in such a long time. You even took my picture with your silly little pink mobile phone camera. I smiled. Did you see me smile? I did.
And when you came back the next time, you stroked me. I knew you were hooked then...
but you didn't take me home.

The third time you came, you acted distant, kind of detached really... or maybe it was more defeat I saw in your face. You looked exceptionally tired and worn down. I know now that you were on the verge of a breakdown of sorts and that makes your visit even more special to me. Because when you were viewing life through a dimmed, broken spirit, you still thought of me.
But you didn't take me home. As you walked out the door, I remember thinking, "It's nearly Christmas and she's not taking me home. I'll never see her again".

I was wrong. The fourth time you came. You didn't leave my side. You were protective of me when other clumsy people came by to give me a look and when the crowds started to overwhelm me, you stuck your elbows out in a protective way. I knew then that I would be going home with you.
I loved how you cleaned me up (It felt so good to have a bath!), and put me upstairs close to you. I loved how you hugged me every time you saw me.

I don't know when you stopped. I was so happy being in a family again, that I didn't notice that I was only getting passing glances from you. You're so busy all of the time! You always have an armload of laundry, or a crying baby to soothe, or a timer on the oven or kid yelling "I'm DONE!" from the bathroom.

No wonder you want to sneak out in the middle of the night.


You ARE taking me with you, aren't you????

Forty-Something

Recently I heard a man on BBC Radio mention that he was doing a lot of reminiscing, "You begin to do that when you reach your forties, don't you?".

We'll make today my "All Things British" day and point out that most sentences end in a question. "We all make mistakes like that, don't we?" "It's horrible how polar bears are losing their habitat, isn't it?" "You can't buy good clotted cream unless you're in Devon, can you?".
It goes along with their obliging, uber-polite nature, "I'm terribly sorry I hit your car when you pulled out in front of me nearly causing my child to lose all of her teeth on the dashboard".
I find it's almost like they are giving their statement the opportunity to be more of an inquiry in case you might be offended by it.
Anyway, we love it and we love all things British, don't we?

So, back to the radio comment.
Yes. I think you do (start reminiscing).

I cruise the Classmates page and wonder what people are doing (and then click on the "don't show my visit" button because I don't want to look as if I have no life and I am living in the past). I desperately sought (and found) the Christmas music I listened to as a kid and played it over and over and over.... not to mention the Koo Koo Choo Choo train that I had to have and paid antique prices for (and now won't let my kids play with it because it cost so much).
But I would say my biggest trip down (lack of ) Memory Lane is my quest for a doll's house. I never had one. I used to pathetically stack boxes on one another and fill them with anything I could gather from around the house.
So when I got here, I had to have a British doll's house.
You may not know this, but pathetic is something that you can wear, because one day this elderly man approached me at church and asked if I had a doll's house yet. I told him I didn't, but that I would get one before I left. He said, "Well, I am going to build you one" and did. He built one like he had built his wife (but got me the "proper" windows his wife tells me with a subtle glance towards her husband).

While it was being built, a dolls house showed up at my favorite auction house. I loved it. I hovered around it and nervously watched as the bids didn't make the reserve. I went back the following week thinking the reserve would be lowered, but it wasn't. I anxiously watched as the auctioneer rattled through bids on his book and maybe a lady in the back, but as the crowd moved towards the furniture, I looked at the tag and saw that it was still unsold! Third time I called my husband in Germany. From the car park. "Talk me out of this" I told him (he had already seen several pictures I sent with my camera phone). Something he said that got me was, "You need to ask yourself why you want it so bad. What need is this filling for you?" Wow. I didn't know....
So week four, I bought the darned thing. I couldn't bear to watch someone else take it away. It's like when the young man is asking if the young girl is right for him, and Mom says, "How would you feel if she walked out of your life tomorrow?" "I'd be devastated. I can't imagine my life without her in it." "Then I think you know the answer." (Real conversation, the couple marries on the 12th).
I still don't know what need the house is filling for me. I just know that when I look at it as I go up the landing, I want to hug it (and did the first couple of times).
Forty-something has been expensive for my husband, and unfortunately I plan to be in this age for a very long time.