Finding a HousemateGETTING READY
Although I hadn’t planned on putting an ad for a new housemate on Craigslist this soon, I ended up doing it anyway. I am almost done with painting, caulking, and general repairs so I decided posting an ad would spur me on to finish getting the room ready. The room may be ready, but am I ready? I am hoping writing about it will clear my head and help me with the process of making a decision about who my potential new housemate could be. This is never easy. NAVIGATING CRAIGSLIST I was a little reticent to post an ad on Craigslist. I have gotten some strange responses in the past. Happily this time I didn’t get a single reply from a model living in Namibia who wants to send a large deposit directly to my bank account, or anyone who thinks that describing themselves as Christian implies I should also trust them with my bank account number. Instead my faith is renewed in the fact that there are quite a few people out there who appear to be responsible, reliable, normal adults. I know that I am ready to bring something new into my life, but as I read the responses to my ad I feel a bit overwhelmed. Each person has their own unique personality and outlook on life that comes through despite the fact I haven’t even met them face to face yet or talked to them on the phone. They run the gamut from businesslike and cautious to warm and hopeful; a bigger than life resume to a normal person just looking for a room; working from home to someone who is gone most of the time; a senior citizen to a young person just learning about life. LOOKING BACK When I look back on all the previous housemates I have had over the last nearly thirty years, they are just as varied as the responses I have been perusing. The youngest was in their twenties and the oldest in their eighties. Some were extroverts and some were introverts. There were students and teachers, men and women, a bus driver, a horse trainer, and a cartoonist. There isn’t one kind of personality or life style that makes a perfect housemate. In fact there is no such thing as a perfect housemate. Most of my housemates were going through some kind of transition in their lives. Some were starting new jobs or leaving old relationships. They were moving away from the old and towards something new. Their lives were changing and as a result, mine did too. A LEAP OF FAITH Whoever it is, I am hoping to find someone who appreciates what I have to offer, a real home, not just a place to land. My home has always been a space that is comfortable and welcoming, that feels physically and psychologically safe. Finding the right person has been a leap of faith. It’s an opportunity to trust my instincts. I have no idea what is in store for me but I am ready to take that leap.
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My Life is Getting Smaller as I Get Older. . .But the Adventure ContinuesBIG CHANGES
There are a lot of things I can’t do anymore. I can’t drive at night because my night vision is affected by cataracts. I can’t climb ladders anymore without worrying that I will fall and break a body part. I can get down on the floor but I can’t get back up unless there is something handy to grab and use to pull myself into a standing position. I am discovering that I have lost some of my ability to do my own home repairs. I am in the process of fixing things in the bedroom and bathroom that I rent out as I slowly open myself to the possibility of finding a new housemate. It’s a lot of work both physically and mentally, but it is the kind of work I love to do. There is something very satisfying about seeing freshly grouted tile and installing a sparkly new toilet seat. I had to enlist the help of the daughter of one of my old housemates, however, to hang some new faux wood blinds. A few years ago I could have easily done it by myself but I realized that I am no longer capable of climbing onto a step ladder while simultaneously raising a 36-inch section of window blinds over my head. My friend’s daughter, Traci, and her boyfriend are both tall and they don’t even need a ladder to hang blinds. They can reach the top of the window and still remain firmly attached to the bedroom floor. WHEN YOU ARE SMALL EVERYTHING LOOKS BIG Traci was born while her Mom was my housemate. It’s hard to believe that the tiny baby I held in my arms just minutes after she arrived in the world is now nearly six feet tall. I feel lucky that I was able to be a part of her life and watch her transform into a beautiful, self confident woman. When she was in 5th grade, she and her mom lived with me a second time and the room where she was helping me with window coverings was her room. She was surprised that it looked smaller than she remembered. It’s the Christmas tree effect. When we are kids everything seems so big. The Christmas tree towers over us. I remember being disappointed that each year as I got bigger and bigger, the tree seemed to get smaller and smaller. It can be a bit strange when we start seeing things from an adult perspective. It’s an Alice in Wonderland world where our perception changes depending on how big we are. BIG ADVENTURES IN A SMALLER WORLD When we are young, the world spreads out before us offering unending possibilities. But now that I am half way through my seventies my world is getting smaller at a rapid pace. I can’t do the things that used to be easy for me. Some day I am going to have to stop driving, and that will really limit my ability to explore things in the way I did when I was young. One of the ironies of retiring is that I have a lot more time on my hands but I don’t have the energy or physical abilities to do all the things I might want to do. Yes, it is becoming a small world, but luckily my imagination is unlimited. I no longer feel the need to conquer the world and I am happily enjoying what I have right here at home. I find happiness and satisfaction in little things, like decorating my yard and preparing my home for a new housemate. I know this person will change my perspective and open up my world in ways I can’t even imagine, just like I never imagined that the tiny baby that came into my home 27 years ago would be helping me get ready for another new housemate adventure. A Story About Life, Death, and PieA MINNESOTA LEGEND Betty’s Pies is a legendary restaurant in northern Minnesota. In the good old days my family used to stop there when we were out for a Sunday drive. My dad used to talk about visiting her father’s fish shack on Highway 61 along the north shore of Lake Superior. Betty began by making donuts and coffee for the fishermen and eventually expanded the shack into a restaurant that featured her homemade pies. I have warm toasty feelings about those pies and the family car trips that often ended at Betty’s. Whenever I made a visit back to Minnesota I would try to find a way to make a pilgrimage there. PIE OBSESSION Recently I found myself hyper focused on a couple of leftover pieces of Betty’s blueberry pie and strawberry rhubarb pie in my refrigerator. They had come a long way through the mail and represented some Minnesota memories literally frozen in time, delivered in a styrofoam cooler as a Christmas present from my niece. I served them as a special treat for my friends on New Year’s Eve. Sharing those pies with my friends was like sharing my soul. They are something you can’t find in California. No one here makes pies like Betty’s. Millions of tiny wild blueberries are crammed so tightly together you can barely get your fork through it until you hit the delicate crumbly crust. Although you might occasionally see rhubarb at a farmer’s market, it would be unusual to find a rhubarb pie at a bakery here. Those pies were like gold, rare and beautiful, and for a few days the last precious pieces were taking up physical space in my refrigerator and emotional space in my head. A normal person wouldn’t place so much weight on a couple of pieces of pie, but I am not a normal person. I have struggled my whole life with an unhealthy relationship with food. I was grateful that I managed to make it through the last difficult months and the death of my housemate without turning to food. But, as is often the case, I am great about handling crises when they are happening and then crumble when the hardest part is over. The leftovers were calling my name big time. MOVING ON It took a few phone calls to supportive friends and some soul searching to finally decide that I had enjoyed more than my share of Betty’s pies and it was time to let them go. Enough was enough. No amount of pie was going to take away the emptiness in my heart. Having already given away most of the remaining pie, I unceremoniously sacrificed the last two pieces to the garbage gods. It did feel like a weight was lifted and the battle was over, but the feelings I wanted to bury were still there. I just have to live with them. Betty passed away in 2015 at the age of 90, but her pies live on. Her restaurant is still creating memories for the people who visit and her recipes are being passed on in a cookbook she published in 2001 and shared with people from all over the country. |
Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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(from an entry posted on 5/1/2015) “I definitely fit some of the characteristics of a little old lady with cats: Retired - check, Single - check, Like to knit - check, Have cats - check. . .I do not want to get stuck in my Little Old Lady persona, however. In fact, this blog is a risk taking experiment in exploring and redefining what I want my retired life to look like.” Categories
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