Milford water views. 2400 square feet newly renovated. Sleeps 8 comfortably in 3 double beds and a futon in the livingroom. Three full bathrooms. Three decks. Long Island is across the street. Wetlands promotes bird watching. Public boatramp for boating and fishing. Swimming, shopping, train station to NYC, many restaurants in the area range from hot dog stands to fine dining. Or cook at home on the grill or in the full kitchen. No pets and no smoking, of course. Take a week away, stay here and put your feet up. $2,000 per week starts Fridays at 3PM. $150 cleaning fee.

When my mother was young and single, she worked at the Larkin Building in Buffalo New York. She was a switchboard operator. A salesman from out in the field called into the main office and called a private line reserved for the president. Mom balled him out. How dare He call that number? When the salesman was in town, He looked up the sassy switchboard operator. That is how Harold met Marguerite. They dated a while, then each married another partner. The four adults were friends their entire life. That is how Aunt Valeria came into my life. She is the lady that married Harold.
Valeria was all sunshine. She was smiles and laughter. She was forgiving for a child's mistake. I loved her like she was my own mother. Valeria used to bring tins of cookies when she visited. By the time the visit was over, all the cookies were gone. My sister and I were on a sugar high.
Valeria and Harold produced a son about my age. We all grew up together. He was like a brother to me. He was wild and free while I was not.
One time, the four adults and three children went to visit Valeria's mother in Lehighton Pa. We took two cars, making our own parade. All three children slept in the same bed.We bounced around like kittens, refusing to go to sleep. The streets in that town were on a hill. It was fun to walk into the front door and be on the second floor. That was the only time I remember taking a trip with my Aunt Valeria and Uncle Harold. Other times, they visited us. All my childhood long, the other couple were a presence. Then they died, one by one. My Dad was the first to go, they Uncle Harold. Mom went next. Valeria hung on. She was so much younger than Harold. Every time I visited in Buffalo, I visited or called on her. She got heavy , but never lost her laughter, her smile. She never complained, even when she lost her only son to cancer. Her grandson was her lifeline then. She could no longer drive. Jeff made sure she had groceries in the house. He paid the utility bills. He drove her to the doctors. Mostly, Valeria did not go out. It was a marvel to see how she coped so well alone. There was no question that Valeria would refuse to live in an assisted living home...and ditto a nursing home. I never saw a sign of depression. I never saw mental decline. The phone rang many times a day...friends checking up on her. She had her three cats to amuse her. She had cable which Jeff paid for. She loved TV programs. Valeria refused help in the house. She did it herself up to age 94. Then Jeff found her on the floor in the hall. She had been there all night. She was taken to the hospital, but they had no reason to keep her there. She didn't break anything. She didn't have an infection, nor cancer nor any medical condition requiring hospitalization. She was just worn out. She was old and tired. Jeff was looking into an assisted living facility for his grandmother. Then, still in the hospital with people thinking of how to handle this situation, she died peacefully, taking one last breath and then ceased breathing.
Some people are treasures to know. I am thankful that I got to spend time with a lady with a laugh and a smile and love to spare a little child not her own.

The shelf is ready to be hung. I sanded the devil out of it to remove the pen marks...targets for Donnie and the pellet gun. Next step was the finish. My choice was Australian Tree Oil because it is similar to Danish Oil finish. It sinks in and can be reapplied if the furniture gets that scuffy look.

time to hang the shelf. Spence came over. We both thought it would be a simple project: Use molly. Hang shelf. Boy were We wrong. The mollies wouldn't go in. It seems this house isn't constructed like the usual old house. There are no studs back there. One trip to Lowe's. My favorite salesman, Roger, showed us a new fastener. We bought a set and drove back to the house. the first one went into the wall fine. The bracket went on the screw fine. The second fastener went into the wall fine. The screw wouldn't catch. Damn. We had drilled at least 3 holes that were failures. Back to the store for another set of fasteners. This time, I tried out the screw to be sure it would go into the fastener. yes it does. Spence is working on the second attachment when Joe comes in from New York state. Joe was my husband's good friend. He became my friend, too....helping me with all sorts of projects. Joe can do anything with a tool. Both Joe and Spence decided the fastener had made too big a hole in the wall. It needed a washer. Found one in the box. Every one has a box to throw stuff in when you don't know where the tool goes. Anyways, the second fastener was up and the bracket attached. This simple project took 5 days. All that is needed is to fill all those useless holes and repaint. That's for after Christmas.

One of the things I did over Thanksgiving, was to pick up the shelf that my son in law made for me. I need the shelf to hang over the peg board that holds my coats. It is fastened on the wall near the front door. The shelf will hold the mittens, scarves, hats and boots that don't fit on the pegs.
Don apologized when He handed me the project. It had marks on it. He made this shelf for me from a scrap of board he had saved specifically for this project. His son used the board for target practice in the basement. There are dings all over it from being shot at. Don filled the dings and explained how they got there.
It is my opinion that the dings become an interesting feature of the shelf. They are now house archeology....marks that tell a story. Some day, Donnie will see those dings and remember being a teenager, target practicing on the board in the basement of the house he grew up in.
My husband had post polio syndrome. His right leg was paralyzed. He walked with a brace. In order to go up and down stairs, He had to swing the leg , scraping the stairs. Over time, it wore down a spot on every stair in the house. I think of Bob every time I see the worn spots.
When I was a little girl, my mother took down the curtains in the kitchen, cleaned the room and painted the cabinet doors. I was a toddler. I found the curtain rods, swinging them around and banging on the freshly painted cabinet doors. The dings went deep because the wood must have been soft. I presume they are still there.
My daughter , a preteen at the time, could not have a pen, pencil or something that scratches, without marking something up. She was talking on the phone with a pin in her hand.. doodling...making a design in the bench she was sitting on. It is still there...ditto her name on the organ.
The best archeology marks are from a friend. She tells the story that she announced to her parents that she and her husband had made a purchase offer on a house. It was accepted. The mother was excited, as it was the house she grew up in. After the sale was completed and the family moved in, the elder couple took the younger couple up to the attic. There, behind the attic door, were pencil drawings on the wall. The mother had made then as a child on a rainy day to amuse herself. You bet they will never be removed .

One of the first things to do after returning home from a trip is to check the answering machine. I was shocked and saddened to learn that my next door neighbor, Butch, had passed. He was my age...a month younger. The funeral was held while I was away, preventing me from attending. It happened very quickly, so it was a blessing for him. However, it should have happened when He was 99 years of age. There were projects He was looking forward to completing. God did not give him enough time to complete those projects. Some people bring their own sunshine with them. Butch was one of those people.
...more later on this very nice neighbor.
Second message on the answering machine was my tenant's mother had passed. I knew she was ill, but again, this was a very fast passing.
Those readers with a dominant left side of the brain can say of course this happens. It is only demographics. It is the age of that generation. Expect it. My neighborhood has many retirees living here. Expect them to pass. It is on the agenda.
Those with a dominant right side of the brain, feel the loss and emptiness that remains. There is a loss in the fabric of my reality. People are missing. I am not used to this. There was no warning....no time to mentally and emotionally prepare. I am adrift.

I really an sick of writing about real estate problems. Our Autumn Northeaster took out power in the area of one of my rental houses. The tenants have been very good about the weather disasters...one after another. After all, what can We do about the weather? The company I call on for sump pump issues has installed a new pump for them with increased capacity plus a battery backup system that is warrantied to run for a week on battery power. That should take care of any power outages that occur.
The only thing is, they cut the line to the leaching field ...part of the septic system. Another company came out to pump out the tank, so perhaps this latest disaster was a blessing in disguise. The tank needed a pumping out. They gave me the name of the man with the backhoe . He will take care of the cut line....after Thanksgiving. My fingers are crossed that the pumping out will last over Thanksgiving. The company that cut the line swears up and down that they didn't do it. There is nothing to be done right now. Instead, I drive to my daughter's house and forget about what is waiting on my plate back home.
Thanksgiving was a success. It was good to have the whole family together, eat too much, have lunch with three old friends, and spend a quiet morning at the Regional Farmer's Market. I love that place. When I lived in Syracuse, it was my favorite place to visit on Saturday mornings.
I have returned home, driving through the thousands of people also returning home. It is too late at night to pick up my dog at his doggie daycare. That will wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I shall call the backhoe man to find out what really happened in the ground.
In the meantime, the mice problem is also fixed: They were getting in through the dryer vent. It didn't have a flap to close them out. A new vent was installed.
Are We done yet? Is this the last of real estate repairs?

My resignation is in. I went to my second to the last meeting of the Veterans Parade and Ceremony Commission. It took some thought to resign, but I did it. Perhaps if there was a ground swell of support for the military museum, I might have stayed. As it is, I was just putting in my time. A walk around the building, just looking, brought back memories of the people I met and worked with in that beautiful building. Emotionally, I turned the building over to the younger volunteers. It is their turn.

I feel close ties to my adopted city. I spent 11 years on this commission and another year on the Council On Aging.

Before that, I worked for United Way. It was an experience to learn about charities and social services. I experienced the world of the poor and those who don't cope very well...those that don't know how to function. We don't have nearly enough services available for those who require help. It was disappointing to see the executive director of each charity out for himself/herself. The client is way down on the list. I learned that my talent is not for fund raising. I was an outsider in the "good old boys" network. My interest lies in another direction.

Before that, I worked for the city. I loved that job. Through my work experience, I gained respect for our civil servants...especially public works. The Health Department, Fire Department, Police, Engineering, Planning and Zoning....all staffed by capable people. I take it for granted that the water is safe for drinking, restaurants won't poison me, the fire department will be there if I need them. Bridges don't fall down. The traffic lights don't mal-function and cause a pile up. The library still has free books for lending. Those people do a very good job.

I even like it that some positions are elected. Mayor, Board Of Aldermen, Board of Education electives represent the people who live in the community. I could have run for any of those offices. So could you. In this way, the people who live here, shape the city . This is all good stuff.

My mother was the person who influenced me to do volunteer work. She drove the car when I was little, delivering food baskets for a Police Charity. She wanted me to come along and see "how other people have to live". The lesson wasn't wasted. Mom was always doing something for other people. One of the phrases she used a lot was,"What can I do for you?" She would do it for you....even giving out money or performing free professional services.

My volunteer service will be over in December. I am free to get in my truck, paints and canvas in the back and wander around...not having to check the calender so I don't miss a meeting. I think I finally retired.

Yes, it is a glorious autumn day. We've had several glorious days in a row. This is the last of warm weather. Cold, damp and darkness will be here soon. For now, it is time to enjoy the outdoors.

I should be outside with my paints, painting foliage colors, but there is work to do...as usual. The rake, tarp , gloves, extension chord and leaf grinder are retrieved from storage.

This isn't work. It is wonderful outdoor exercise. The sun is shining. Neighbors are out raking up leaves. Each household has a different technique for leaves. Tina uses a blower. Joanne rakes leaves into paper bags and leaves them at the curb for pick up by Public Works. Last year, I ran my lawn mower over the leaves, mulching them in place. Butch has a leaf catcher at the back of his lawn mower. He catches leaves as He mowes the lawn...then bags them. My neighbor Bob and I chat over the fence. He is shrink wrapping his boat..tucking it in for the winter. I've already covered my sailing dingy with bubble wrap. I hope it stays in place for the winter. I make a note to myself to use a tarp next time.

This year, I need the leaves to fill in a low spot in the side yard. All my mulch is distributed on the vegetable bed and the flower bed. The man who cuts the grass, put his foot through a hole in the ground that I did not know was there. He wasn't hurt. I am surprised but now I know why the fruit tree I planted in that spot did not grow. I planted it over a cavity. The roots dried out, poor tree. (Another mental note to plant another tree there next spring. The ground should be settled by them.)

Several bags of dirt are purchased from the garden store. One bag is dumped in the hole. The hole is filled up. It looks fine. However, when I water it down, the entire bag of dirt disappears down the rabbit hole. Ditto the second bag and the third bag. All the weeds and sticks...anything organic is dumped down the hole. It looks filled up. I test it with a pole..poke ..poke..poke. Seems to be filled up OK, but I don't trust that spot.

Standing back, I see a bowl shape in the lawn. It is where the septic system used to be. That whole area has sunk. I will level the entire spot with mulch. The leaf mulcher crunches leaves. I rake the front lawn, put the leaves on a tarp and drag it to the low spot. Mulched leaves are heaped on the spot, then raked as level as I can make it.

Still doesn't seem level. More leaves are needed. Several days with many breaks for lunch or tea will clean up the lawn. I should have the bowl filled level and more to go into the mulch pile. For now, it is lunch time. My back is aching, but I have that good feeling of accomplishing something useful

The southern coast of Connecticut has escaped the autumn northeaster storm. I am safe and warm...both houses. However, friends up north are not so fortunate. This northeastern storm was worse than the hurricane because it came so early. There were leaves on the trees. When the rain and snow hit, limbs broke , pulling power lines down with them. Connecticut Yankees love their trees. There are lots of them...trees, I mean.
I called a friend and asked if He had power. He said He did. His family did not. His house is a small cottage. There is not enough room for his gang. I invite them to take over my beach house. They gratefully accept.
The house is filled with children enjoying the beach. They watch the waves, collect stones, shells and crabs. Their mom is a teacher, but her school is closed. Her sister and her two children join her...any place that is warm is wonderful. Good Karma is going on here. There is the excitement of children, laughter, good sleep and good hot showers.
They stay for 7 days. Their power is returned. Mom has to go back to school.
I am sorry to see them leave. They leave behind for me, several bottles of very good wine. I am saving them.