"Life is what happens ..."

Dean died.

I closed on my Kansas City condo.

The movers will load my belongings in Champaign on December 16.

I'll pack up my dog and head west in my Subaru.

That's all.

And everything starts now.

Highs & Lows.

Several weeks have passed since I last wrote.  On the condo front, things continue to move forward.  I must say, the professionals I've worked with, including mortgage specialists, bankers, insurance professionals, realtors, have been exceptionally helpful and efficient.  I'm impressed and oh so grateful.

As of this writing, the closing is scheduled for next week.

I couldn't wait to tell my breakfast buddy about finding a condo so close to my family.  When I returned to my current home and expected to see him at breakfast (where we've been eating together every day for the past ten years), he wasn't there.  No worries, he probably has an appointment.

The next day, he still wasn't around.  He's running late, I thought.  Our mutual friend arrived and I could immediately see that something was terribly wrong.

While I was out of town, our friend had gone to the doctor for test results.  The results were not good.

More than three weeks have gone by.  My breakfast friend (really, so much more than that), has entered the hospital, has undergone humiliating and painful tests, and is now at the county nursing home.  His spirits are good, he is being well cared for, and he now know how many people  respect and love him.   

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to show him photos of the condo I hope to buy.  A smile!  A real smile along with a hearty grasp of my hand.

Healing.  For both of us.

  

Knowing what you want.

Last week I drove to Kansas City with a few good intentions:  see my family; visit friends; look for a condo I liked and could afford to buy; eat some fine food.

Happy to report, if only to myself, that my good intentions were rewarded. My friend, Greg, who I've known for nearly 30 years, invited me to stay at his home.  We went out to dinner when I arrived, down to the Boulevard at El Patron.  Good Mexican food and, lo, excellent El Jimador margaritas.

The next day I picked up my 97 year old, Aunt Charlotte, so she could join me and my realtor, in looking at condos.  It was a steamy, hot, KC August day and I didn't want Aunt Char to get tired and de-hydrated.  Fortunately, the first condo on my realtor's list was nearby and in the condo development I have always liked.

We walked into the condo and my aunt gasped (not for air, thankfully). The place was gorgeous and spotlessly clean. The seller is living there and her furniture is, let's just say, "high-end."  This condo "shows" great.

I've always known what I want.  I asked my realtor if she'd be upset if didn't look at any of the others on her list.  She said, "I thought you'd like this one."  We dropped Aunt Charlotte off at her apartment to get out of the summer heat and went back to my realtor's office.  A few hours later, after paperwork and meeting with a mortgage specialist, we made the offer.

All I know, is that the seller accepted the offer and we are going ahead with inspections and the appraisal. 

In a way, I can't believe it.  In another way, I knew this is where I wanted to be.

Fingers crossed.

   

    

Anne Lamott is wise.

Ever feel like you're one place but you'd really rather be someplace else?  I'm at my job, a wonderful job with terrific colleagues and interesting issues.  All good, right?

Yes, all good.  Except I'm having trouble focusing on what's now.  My thoughts keep drifting to December when I retire from my job and sometime after December, move back to Kansas City, my hometown.

So I think about, "Can I afford to buy a condo?"  "How will I get a loan if I don't have a job?"  "Will I get bored?"  "Will I find a place or niche to fit in?"  "Will I miss my life that I've lived for the past 20 years?"

Time will tell.  For now, I guess I'll just have to take it "bird by bird," as Anne Lamott advises.   

What's the rush?

Calm down, everything is moving just the way it's supposed to move.  That's my inner voice talking.  Hope I'm listening.

I know where I want to live.  I know what type of condo I want to buy.  One will become available at just the right time.

Calm down.  

Done deal.

Amazing how stress can fly away when a big deal goes down.  The closing on my house went off without a hitch.  Actually, it was rather sweet.  I so like the young (very) couple who bought the house.  And, I hope they'll be happy on New Street.

Now, I am in search of a new home in a different place.  My old hometown.

Forward.  

Frazzled.

Could I be any more rude while I'm driving (yes)? Why is everyone driving so slowly? 

I'm a wreck (no pun intended).  Feeling stressed.  Frazzled might a better descriptor. 

My house closing is scheduled for tomorrow.  It "should" go fine, but I'm nervous.  And I believe it will go fine.

Still, this sense of nervousness, worries, anxiety, whatever word you choose, I don't like the feeling, not at all.  Why can't I calm down?

Could it be that I feel so unproductive?  I must stay busy.   

Short-time.

They said it would happen.  Once you set a date to retire, you become a "Short-Timer."  What that really means is that you don't give a hoot about your work and you start counting the days.

I prefer to think of myself as "Future-focused."

Draw a line through it.

Do you ever make "to do" lists?  I do, all the time.  What I like most is crossing items off my lists once they're done.

So, with this transition, meaning, retiring from my job of the past 20+ years, selling my home, looking for a condo in KC, and, eventually moving back to Kansas City, I've created a list or two.  One should be enough, but that's another topic.

Today at breakfast, my pal, Dean, remarked that I was "crossing a lot off my list."  Meaning, I'm getting things done and making things happen.  That's a good thing, especially for Ms. Procrastination (me).

The closing for my house is scheduled for this Thursday.  I truly hope to cross that item off my list.

  

Sound of Music.

So I'm living in a nice duplex in a nice neighborhood.  It's temporary, maybe 6 months, maybe longer.  Just until I can find and buy a condo in Kansas City.

That's why I have lots of boxes and totes sitting in one half of the duplex's double garage (with a remote opener, woo hoo!).  Why should I unpack just to pack up everything again in a few months?  Not gonna happen.

But, oh boy, guess what I found (because I packed them in clear plastic tote boxes)?  My cds.  My music.  

Heaven is getting your fairly good stereo speakers and tuner hooked up, pouring vodka in an ice-cold glass, and sitting back and listening to songs I haven't heard in months (I've been taking my time packing).

Ah, how wonderful to hear Shawn Colvin's early songs in a way I hadn't grasped before.  She isn't even one of my favorites, but minds can be changed.  "Steady On."  Indeed.

Pause.

In the past couple of weeks, I've:

Been told my house had the highest radon reading they'd ever seen -- then it wasn't.

Moved to temporary housing (with dog).

Been to the vet (with dog) 3 times.

Spent hundreds of dollars (let's say thousand, at least) on movers, repairs, inspections (with more to come).

Cried.

Drank alcohol.  Lots.

Taken lovely walks along paths new to my dog and me (in the condo community we're living in for a few months).

Bought a new bed.

Said goodbye to neighbors I've known for nearly twenty years.

Lived without cable for a few days (not as hard as I thought it would be).

Unpacked as little as possible.

Met some lovely new neighbors.

Just keep going.  It's ok to take a breather.  

More to come.   

Letting Go.

The young (very) couple who want to buy my house came over today with their realtor.  They might buy some of my furniture.  Clearly, they are just starting out and this house is a perfect "starter" home.

Whether or not they buy my furniture, I will not be taking much of my furniture with me when I move to Kansas City.  I've certainly gotten my money's worth out of most of the pieces, having used them for nearly twenty years.  And somehow this move is about starting "fresh," which means I need to let go.  

Some of what I'm letting go:

Dean.

My job.

OPH.

My house.

My paycheck.

My boards and committees in the community.

My friends.

My routine.

My doctor, dentist, vet.

My beautiful public library.

Breakfast with Marilyn once a week.

What will fill the holes?

Pending.

So I leave town for a few days and look what happens:  I signed a contract to sell my home.  It's not a done deal, but so far, so good.

Things are really moving now. If this sale goes through, I need to find a temporary place to live as of August 1.  Today is June 24.  No worries!

Maybe it pays to go out of town and get away from my routine.  I stayed with dear friends, a wonderful, sweet dog slept with me every night, and I saw Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell in concert in the Boulder Flatirons.

Happy.  Grateful.

  

Escape.

Everything is fine, even though I have lost my temper and have had a couple of anxiety attacks.  It gets better.

Several showings at my house.  It looks good.  

I'm ready for a little break.  Tomorrow, I fly to Boulder, Colorado, where I used to live and where my best friend still lives.  Mountains. Dogs. Walks.  Cocktails.  Friends. Oh, did I mention that we have tickets to see Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell at Chautauqua?

When I return to Champaign in a few days, I'll keep on moving forward.  That's the way it's gonna be.

   

Mom.

One year ago today, mom died.
Miss her.

96 Tears.

One of the local radio stations morphed into an all-60s,70s,80s music format.  I don't mind admitting that I'm enjoying hearing songs I remember first hearing on my transistor radio.  I think it was pink.

Just heard "96 Tears" by ? and the Mysterians.  I'm fairly sure they were a one-hit wonder.  

The guy who is leading this radio station is someone I met while serving on a local nonprofit board.  Turns out, we both spent our early years in Kansas City.  This fellow, Mike, told me that when he was a kid, his dad took him to meet a disc jockey at the radio station that I listened to religiously.  It's where I heard the Beatles the first time on the radio.  WHB.

I love it that Mike shared this story with me.  And I love it that Mike now is the head honcho of a new radio station that plays all the music we loved so much on WHB.  

    

The Network.

I think this is a good thing.  Time will tell.  I've started to make KC connections via LinkedIn and other social online networks.

I look at the connections of KC folks I already know and request connections to folks who I used to know years ago when I lived in Kansas City or who have similar interests/skills.

Worth a shot.

Jitters.

My realtor got out her dainty sledgehammer and pounded a FOR SALE sign into my front lawn yesterday afternoon.  This morning, I dropped off my sweet doggie at the vet to have a growth removed from her ear.  Thursday morning, I'm meeting with my staff to discuss having to cut 4.75 percent of next year's budget.  Home inspection is this Friday.  Photos of my home will be taken this week to upload for a Virtual Tour.

OK, so I'm a little jittery.  

I'm still moving forward.   

Don't Push.

Yesterday my sweet young neighbor came by to tell me that his house had sold.  Three days.  I think that is good news, but I don't take anything for granted.  

My house is exactly like my neighbor's house.  So, if several people were interested in buying his house (at least, several people looked at it), could that mean that one would be interested in buying mine?  

My house will sell.  At exactly the right time.

Of course, I'm anxious, eager, whatever you want to call it.  I called my handyman and told him I REALLY want to get those small house projects done so I can put my house on the market.  I'm trying not to be pushy and, boy, is it ever hard.

My house will sell.  At exactly the right time.  (new mantra).

Om, sweet om.   

Fear & Loathing.

I'm not good with money.  I don't have a lot, but I'm better off than many folks.  As I approach my retirement from my current job, and prepare to pack up and move to my hometown, Kansas City, I guess it's not a huge surprise that I feel a bit anxious.  Downright scared at times.

This morning I met with my financial advisor.  Her main advice?  GET A JOB.  She was serious.  She thinks everyone, especially women, should keep working.  And, she told me I should start looking for a job before I leave this one.  This is good advice from a career counseling viewpoint.

My problem is that I can only deal with a few things at a time.  No way am I a multi-tasker.  Right now I'm focused on getting my house ready to sell, packing what I can right now, looking at the condo market in KC, and worrying about everything.

So the thought of adding GET A JOB to my "to do" list is, shall we say, "daunting?"

 Time to remind myself: Forward.   

There.  I feel better already.