Laurie and Lily's Great Adventure

  From Fayetteville, NY to Walkersville, MD

CONTACT

Address: May 22nd: 8509 Adventure Court, Walkersville, MD 21793
Email: lauriecapponi@icloud.com 

March19, 2026

    Lily and I hit the road after a brisk and bittersweet walk with our dog pack: Honey, Coco and Littles and their humans. Lily slept most of the way, despite the barrage of swear words spewing from my mouth when I entered the construction-hellscape known as the state of Pennsylvania. Just as we crossed under the twin cranes that form a demented gateway into PA for the past eight years, Bruce Springsteen’s “Badlands” started playing. Coincidence? I think not! 
    We arrived in Walkersville around 3:00 pm, had tea and scones and went for a walk to check out our surroundings. There was much sniffing, exploring and frivolity. I think we’re gonna like it here. 

March 20, 2026

On today’s schedule:

1. Sniffing

2. Walking

3. Picking up sticks (me).

4. Enjoying the 70 degrees weather and sunshine. 

March 21, 2026

On today’s Schedule:

1. Sniffing

2. Walking

3. Visit to Petsmart in Frederick

4. Find the post office

OMG! I found an IHOP!

March 22, 2026

The Discovery Neighborhood, where my sister and I live, was built in the 1970s. It appears that there were only 3 designs  built:

Our House is style #2.

It has the fewest stairs and is the BEST style for a geriatric beagle and a someday-but-not quite-yet geriatric beagle mom.  

March 23, 2026

Yesterday we went to Fountain Rock Park which had plenty of rocks, but no visible fountain. These 22 acres are old…used first as  Native American (Iroquois and Algonquin) hunting grounds, then as a limestone quarry that ground rock into gravel, and now as a nature center and trout fishing area. It was nice, but, honestly, it was no Green Lakes. Sorry, Maryland!

March 24, 2026

   Lily had her first vet appointment this morning (nothing is wrong, but they make you come in for a “welcome visit” where they welcome your credit card to the amount of $114 into their computer system.) it would be extremely hard, if not  impossible, for this clinic to impress me since I was lucky enough to live near the  gold standard of animal care, Village Veterinary Hospital, and had the best vet in the world, Frank Capella.

     Opossum Pike Vet Clinic is off the busy highway known as Opossumtown Pike (thus the “original” name). I immediately missed the peaceful, bucolic pond and sculptured grounds back at VVH in Canastota…not to mention all the wonderful people inside.Within the OPV clinic, concrete and metal took the place of the warm brown wood and artwork I had come to know. The atmosphere was cold, but the workers were friendly. I liked their logo…cuz…purple!

    It took Lily approximately 22 seconds to realize that, despite the extreme difference in decor, she was at THE VET. “Oh no,” I could hear her thinking as she vibrated her whole body in panic attack mode, “they have these things in Maryland, too! WTF!” The doctor, Rececca Arthur,  was very serious, calm and quiet yet seemed knowledgeable and thorough. Of course she was the opposite of Frank, who is a humorous, exuberant extrovert. 

    Everything there was in such sharp contrast to what I have known for the past almost 30 years that I teared up. But I got over it. Lily will get good care at OPV. Me…I’m not so sure. Maybe it will grow on me? I know it isn’t helpful or healthy to compare here to there, now to then, but...see pics below and you won’t judge me.  I’ll try to do better. Next time.

Village Veterinary Hospital, Canastota, NY

Opossum Pike Vet Clinic, Frederick, MD

March 25, 2026

    Today, Lily and I are heading to Barrick Garden Center to buy that tool that removes dandelions. If you’re reading this blog, you know of my irrational hatred of and zero tolerance for these weeds. If I’m feeling festive, I may also purchase a rake. And, oh boy, I think I figured out how to add comments to my blog! Now I get to see if anyone is actually reading it. 🤣😂

March 25, 2026 (post road trip)

    Barrick was cute, but small. It reminded me a of the nursery in Chittenango, Sorbello’s. My Grandpa Parry, who fostered my hatred of dandelions by making nasty wine from its flowers and drinking way too much of it, had a saying: “Tutto il mondo è un solo pease.” For those of you who don’t speak Italian, it means, “All the world is one country.” He proclaimed it in wonder whenever something in America reminded him of the small village in Calabria which he left when he was ten. Despite his flaws, and there were many, he did share a few gems of wisdom. I think of this one frequently down here,  especially when I pass farmland, and for a moment, I feel like I’m just driving home from the vet in Canastota. 

March 26, 2027

    Lily and I checked out Walkersville Community Park early today to beat of afternoon  high of 80. It was BEAUTIFUL! And that is in this in between, not-so-lovely time of year. I can’t wait to see it in May, June, July and then as summer blurs into Autumn.

     It was a hybrid of the Erie Canal walk and Mill Run Park. No herons but I saw a few mallards and geese. There was even a mini covered bridge (they are big around here). Theo will love the huge playground.

    Walking the trail was the first time the ashes of doubt about this “adventure” slipped off my shoulders.  I can see myself visiting frequently and bringing friends who come to visit. It’s my favorite place so far…except for wherever Lily is.

PS I don’t know who zoned Walkersville, but to get to many public places, like the parks, grocery stores and churches, you have to drive through residential neighborhoods. It’s weird.

March 27, 2026

I am a Maryland homeowner. 

March 28, 2026

Today Lily and I and “Aunty Mommy” (aka my sister), are running errands. Lowes allows dogs, so we will have a new adventure. She did well for the two hours that I was at my closing yesterday although she did screech an accusatory, high pitched objection at me when I returned home. My gross negligence was duly noted. It is the coldest day here so far (high will be 45), but it is sunny. Warm enough to buy some pansies! 

March 29, 2026

Today we had brunch with Charissa, Alex and the kids which was the first time I’ve seen them since I arrived. Theo is so cute  and smart; Amalia is just adorable. She tried a tiny bit of ice cream and loved it. She got that from my genes, no doubt. 

March 30, 2026

    Today will be quite exciting as I’m getting my oil changed 🤣. Poor Lily has to have her ear cleaned out.😳 She had an infection when we left NY, and it takes the medication a few weeks to work. She is VERY protective of her ears.🤕 I can already hear her high pitched screams in my head. 😱She has adjusted well to this Big Adventure and loves to sniff the back yard and travel on the community trails. I take her between my sister’s house and my own every day, so it will be one less adjustment when I move in on May 22nd. 

    I’m hoping to take my sister to Walkersville Community Park as she has never seen it although she moved here almost six months ago! We signed up for the FFL “meet the author” book club on April 15 when they will “meet” Hayley Gelfuso who wrote The Book of Lost Hours. https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-book-of-lost-hours-hayley-gelfuso/1146385198?ean=9781668076361  Anyone can sign up for the Zoom. You don’t need to live in Fayetteville. I highly recommend it if you’re an avid reader. https://onlib-fayetteville.libcal.com/event/16189672

March 31, 2026

    I’m loving Maryland today because it’s sunny and almost 80 degrees. I think it’ll hit 70 in NY, and I’m glad because the winter there has been brutal. It’s peak cherry blossom season, but I’ve only seen one tree. There are these weird, wild chive or garlic plants that are seemingly endemic to this area. I first thought they were unique to my sister’s yard. When I cut the grass, I could  smell this faint onion aroma. But then I saw them all over the park. Lily adores Walkersville Community Park; she always walks ahead of me—rare for her— and gets that dog smile on her face. It definitely “youthens” her. 

March 31, 2026 PM

    The USPS in Fayetteville actually forwarded a piece of my mail. This is how it arrived. I can’t wait to see the condition of the first package.😂🤣

April 1, 2026

  This morning was boring but busy as I got my taxes done. It took almost two hours, and Miss Lily was not pleased with my absence even though she got the gold standard of canine care from my nephew.  The decibel level she can achieve when she is angry with me is truly remarkable.  Maybe she was an opera singer in a former life? 🤷🏻‍♀️Fortunately, she was not too upset to lick up every particle of her breakfast. I feel very guilty leaving her, knowing she gets this neurotic, and it makes getting to know the area a little tricky. It hasn’t even been two weeks, so I’m hoping she’ll adjust to my leaving. I plan to go to Potomac for Greek Easter. 🐣 

April 2, 2026

   Lily and I will be spending a quiet, cloudy afternoon indoors after a drizzly walk and a fruitless and frustrating morning, trying to locate my mail that still hasn’t arrived since I put in a request three weeks ago. I’m told there is a backlog…

   On the positive side, those of you who knew and loved (or at least tolerated my love for) Buddy, the squirrel, will be heartened to learn that there is a local Maryland cousin with even a shorter tail. I feel fated to befriend this special needs squirrel.🐿️ 

April 3, 2026

Today is a dismal day. For those of you who never took Latin, or like me, took it but spent the whole class writing gossipy notes to Al Carletta, “dismal” comes from dies mali or bad days. It’s a trifecta of badness here in Maryland.

1. Bad weather—which isn’t Maryland’s fault. It spoiled me for ten days by being too good, with sunshine and temps so high that I was embarrassed to report them to my friends in CNY. For the last two days, it has been drizzly and in the 40’s/50’s. And foggy!  Morning fog is thick and prevalent in this area, and I don’t understand why. It’s not like we’re near Chesapeake Bay.  I’ll have to float an email to my old friend, John George, the earth science teacher and amateur weatherman, and ask for an explanation. It reminds me of the Kansas song, “Cold, Grey Morning” from their amazing (but extremely under-appreciated) Freaks of Nature album. It was written thirty years ago but perfectly describes today’s political climate. You can give it a listen if you’d like. https://youtu.be/q1T8rGqvmmM?si=Cv8cYokWOJ0bz2We ()                  
   But moving on…
2. Bad day for Lily as she visited the vet. Again. She has been peeing in her bedding almost once a day since we got here. She pretends to dig a hole and lets go. I am beside myself. Except when I leave the house, she seems to be adjusting. I take her out every two hours by day and once in the middle of the night. I’ve purchased disposable diapers. She removes them. I put the wee wee pad, which she has used for almost 15 years, ten feet from her sleeping area. She has peed on it once. I decided I need to rule out a UTI. Thus, the early morning vet visit. In the cold, grey fog. The vet, a different one from last time, who had even less personality,  took a urine sample and sent me home. She said she’d look at it after her morning rounds, and if Lily needs meds, I can just return to fetch them. Through the traffic…and the fog…
3. Bad day for my eyesight. Last night, when I was groggily tossing Lily’s waterproof bed cover in the washing machine, I accidentally included my glasses. They went through the wash and rinse cycle although I did retrieve them before they hit the  dryer. As a result, my left lens got scratched. Now it’s like I’m looking at the world through a cataract or my bangs are in my eyes. Surely, you ask, you have an extra pair? Well, in fact, I do. I have a spare, I also have prescription stitching glasses, and I have two different magnifications of readers...all of which are nestled in a POD in East Syracuse. Have you ever tried doing cross stitch with blurry glasses? I don’t recommend it. 

April 4, 2026

    Some days I wonder why I took in this adventure. I have been asked by friends and relatives, with puzzled glances in quizzical tones.. I have had a safe and comfortable life in New York. There is nothing wrong with it. But I think the best, most complete and honest answer to that question is that I don’t want to be the “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” which is meaningless to you if you don’t like Pearl Jam. I don’t actually like Pearl Jam. I bought their greatest hits, which must be forty songs long…they’ve had A LOT of hits... and never found another tune that I could listen to the whole way through. But this song of theirs is among my favorites of all time. It makes me think of my best friend at Colgate where we studied to be teachers.  Keith  went off to London to teach, travelled all over Europe and took great risks while I remained in upstate New York for 30 years. Ironically, I’d always thought he was the cautious one. I wonder: What would he think of me now?  This song was on one of the cassettes tapes he always made for me, and it resonates. And it festers. And more recently, it burns. I don’t want this to be me.

Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town

You can listen to Eddie Vedder singing it if you choose. It is hauntingly beautiful. 
 https://youtu.be/g0pzDAd6TNw?si=rCTWd3iQTI_-BSvp

April 5, 2026

    Today is “normal Easter”…as opposed to Greek Easter which we will be celebrating next Sunday—complete with a whole lamb roasted on a spit—which I’m sure will amuse or perplex the Potomac neighbors. My sister and I attended mass at St Katherine Drexel, a gorgeous church in Worman’s Mill, a wealthy neighborhood in nearby Frederick. 

    I had never heard of St Katherine, who is the patron of philanthropists and of racial justice, so I googled her.  Her life was quite inspirational. She was a banking heiress, but her parents taught their daughters that wealth was to be shared with those I need. This started her on the road to philanthropy. As an adult, she advocated and built schools for native Americans and African Americans; she established the order of the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament and Xavier University in New Orleans, both welcoming minorities. You can learn about her life HERE. https://saintdrexel.org/about-us/about-st-katharine/

     The church building is a visual feast for the eyes. As you enter, you’re welcomed by a long corridor with two rows of flags of the world hung from its ceiling. There is a beautiful wall fountain that still pics cannot convey, and I unfortunately couldn’t find a video of. The altar is stunning, and the picturesque gardens even have a labyrinth. 

Inside:https://youtu.be/svpTXLU4xfY?si=IpqXGRmuyxPrEmpx

Gardens: https://youtu.be/x9YHuJ31icc?si=ajJGwna_bDRIuX2G

   But St Katherine Drexel is not just about pretty window dressing. The parish is very progressive and inclusive, two features not often associated with a Catholic Church. It does outreach to marginalized individuals and communities and strives to embody St Katherine’s spirit through its work. I was besotted by it. My sister, not so much. She thought it was too big, too crowded, too modern. But how can you properly judge a church on Easter Sunday? She is off to Potomac to celebrate Greek Palm Sunday which includes a traditional feast of beets and cod. 🤮 (Makes me SO glad I’m Italian.) I will stay home with Lily and eat carrot cake. Whatever your menu, I hope you have a good day, one that is drier and sunnier than we have here in Maryland! 

April 6, 2026

     Maryland weather has spoiled me, and I’ve become entitled in a short period of time. Today it will only reach 60, and I’m bitter. A month ago, in New York, I would have delighted in anything over 40—which it will barely hit today. It is fascinating how quickly a person gets used to a place—visually. After less than three weeks, I can walk this neighborhood with a blindfold. I can navigate to about ten destinations without GPS.   

    Acclimating is not as quick in other ways. I miss my dog pack back home, canines and humans, the cosy, familiar spaces in my old house, and not having to adjust everything in my mind, all the time. I yearn for my old routine, knowing exactly what my day will look like and who will wander in and out of it. Maybe it is not a good thing to live life on repeat, like a skip in a record or a number on speed dial, but it is comforting. 

April 9, 2026

     It looks like today will be warmer in Fayetteville, NY than it will be in Walkersville, MD, and I happy because no one deserves a nice spring day more…except maybe the poor people who endured winter on the Tug Hill Plateau. My exciting itinerary includes picking up Autumn leaves and opening an M&T bank account in Worman’s Mill, my new favorite place to shop. 
   The second worst law firm in NY state, Wladis, (you were for-warned), messed up my closing and never credited me for paying a year’s worth of 2026 county taxes, so they had to issue a refund. which, of course, was done incorrectly. The correct check finally came in my mail which has started to trickle in. Lily’s day will be objectively worse as she is due for an ear cleaning. 
    I thought about living in Worman’s Mill, which is five minutes down the road, but I couldn’t abide the $300+ HOA fee. It is pretty, though, centered by a gorgeous gazebo and ribboned by the Monocacy River. There is a special part of it called The Island which I’m longing to see. Maybe Lily and I will take a road trip this afternoon and watch the wealthy live large.. 

Worman’s Mill, Frederick, Maryland

April 12, 2026

    Today is Greek Easter. We were supposed to go to Potomac to a large 50+ celebration. It included a whole lamb on a spit, Charissa’s two BFF’s and their husbands/kids and Yiayia’s renowned cooking. Well, we make plans and…ah…life. One by one, the Kafarakis family came down with some intestinal flu; Yiayia Maria even ended up in the hospital. Not wanting to expose their children, my niece’s besties both backed out. Then my sister got sick…so we won’t be attending. I guess it’s only going to be lamb for 40. Here are a few pics from last year when they dressed Theo in the traditional outfit of Lefkada. And of course, the unfortunate lamb.

April 13, 2026

    Since I arrived in Maryland, I have been seeking a great—or at least good—ice cream experience;  so far, I am zero for two. My first day here we went to Sweet Babe’s Creamery which is supposedly the number one ice cream place in Walkersville. Well, I’m guessing there must only be one ice cream place in town because this place was BAD. They only had three flavors: vanilla, chocolate and twist. Since I don’t like chocolate ice cream, I chose vanilla. It was grainy, as if it had bits of sand in it.  The tiny shop was right on the main drag. Like a little truck exhaust mixed with your ice cream??? Not me. Not. Good.

     Yesterday we went to Glamour View Creamery. It boasted homemade frozen custard made with milk from their own cows. I had high hopes for this place that was way, way out in the country beyond the town limits. The shop was actually a truck; it had three flavors: vanilla, chocolate and twist. I have to admit the vanilla frozen custard was delicious and velvety with not a grain to be felt. BUT…the cows were on site. While they were very attractive animals, I’d hardly use “glamour” to describe them or the barn view. (though the two baby bovines were adorable). It’s not very appetizing to eat anything, however scrumptious, when overpowered by the odor of cow sweat and other cattle byproducts. I probably won’t return.

   With nostalgic longing, I am remembering summer jaunts to Zems, a scenic Canastota stand offering  40+ flavors and a peaceful picnic area to enjoy it, not to mention a store filled with candy and fudge! But the best part of Zems was the company of my neighbors which I dearly miss.

    Next weekend we are going to Brown Cow Creamery, a market in Mount Ary that reportedly makes its own ice cream. Maybe three times is a charm?🤞🏼🍦

April 14, 2026

    Oh my god, if you didn’t watch Jon Stewart last night, you have to see this! It was SO hilarious that I had tears in my eyes from laughing; but then the end was so moving and inspirational that I had different tears…of hope. He is truly a comic genius! I wish HE would run for president, but he’s too good for that. https://youtu.be/g6k55WQ5GAk?si=UvCy3q-FDz9Ua-ip

    Today is leaf clean up day before the temp climbs above 80. But more importantly, it is this tiny girl’s 6 month birthday. Off to the doctor (lousy b-day gift). We shall see if she exceeds 12 pounds and can finally make the baby growth chart. Though people rightly fuss over Amalia, I must mention that big bro, Theo, is off the charts adorable. UPDATE: 12lb.1oz. She made the first percentile!

I Have Become a PODs Person

    Yes, it’s true. Not “Pod” like in the invasion of the Body Snatchers where a parasite has kidnapped my consciousness—although sometimes I wonder…but “PODS” as in those scary, white and red trucks that lock all your possessions away in a location you can never access for two months. My most frequently used phase now is, “Oh, no, it’s in the POD,” uttered regretfully whenever my sister needs some household item, or I’m looking for weather appropriate clothing. Searching for a nail or hammer? In the POD. Summer shorts or short sleeved shirts? The POD. My exercise equipment? P-O-D. Apparently anything that could possibly be of any use to me, my dog, or anyone else living in this house is safely stored away in East Syracuse. The only exception is my Nespresso machine which I have dragged cross three states…cuz…well…priorities!☕️
    The upside is that I have been “forced” to clothes-shop. 🥰 Silly me, I never realized that the temperature here would hit 90 by April. I should have known. That’s why their outdoor Renaissance Faire takes place in September and October instead of mid-summer. It’s because the actors would melt into puddles of velvet, leather and lace if they wore those heavy costumes in July and August. But since I left upstate NY in the throes of March’s deep freeze and figured I would  have my spring wardrobe here by mid-May, I brought the barest essentials, half of which are corduroy and velour. Now packages arrive daily from my new, favorite online retailer, Natural Life. https://www.naturallife.com. If you long to relive your flower child days while humming sixties classics like  “California Dreaming” or if you just like cheap, extremely brightly colored/patterned clothing, you should check the store out. 

April 16, 2026

   Maybe it’s the 90 degree weather or the fact that my NY friends have already started tripping to Zems ice cream stand (without me🤕), but I can’t stop thinking about my second favorite dessert (fudge still owns my heart). My sister and I were trying to find a new place to explore this afternoon, and she found this website https://www.visitmaryland.org/article/ice-cream-lovers-guide-to-maryland. To my delighted surprise, it says that Maryland has an ice cream trail, kinda like the wine trails in the Fingers Lakes except way, way sweeter and creamier and without a hangover. Many of these sites promise a “cow to cone” experience! Also, Maryland was the first place to serve ice cream back in 1744 (strawberry) and the first state to sell it in 1851. Perhaps fate drew me to this state?    
    Anyway, we decided on two places: One was Catoctin Mountain Orchard which was highly recommended  to me by the president of my stitching guild; it was okay. It reminded me of a small farmer’s market except it was all indoors and still had no produce. It had ONE flavor of ice cream, “Apple Pie Moonshine”. However, Kansas’ “Carry On Wayward Son” was playing on the speaker, and they are my absolute favorite band (The Goo Goo Dolls are now; Kansas is eternal), so I rated the place a 5/10.  
    The other, which I was MOST excited about, was Gateway Candyland, voted the best candy establishment in Frederick County five years in a row. It was a gigantic candy store with a bakery, reminding  me of a larger version of Zems’ indoor shop. The fudge counter was my first sight as I opened the door, and my fudge-deprived heart leapt, but…honestly…I’ve had better. They also served Hershey’s ice cream as well as their soft serve, so I was really suffering from the Zems nostalgia. However, they only had a third of the usual array of flavors, AND they were playing country music, so I gave it a 6/10. These destinations are in Thurmont, about 20 minutes north of Walkersville, and I doubt I’ll be driving up route 15 much this summer to visit them. Not when there’s a whole ice cream trail to explore.

April 15, 2026

    Today Lily has her monthly shot for Addison’s Disease. Hopefully, she will also get a pedicure while she’s at the vet, so I’m guessing it won’t be a good morning for her. To compensate, I am going to take her to the park and hope she’s not too bitter to enjoy it. She is not eating with her old enthusiasm, a troubling change which began when Grady left us. I thought it was the lack of prednisone, but she’s on 5x her normal dose and still doesn’t get to her breakfast until about noon and then only if I coax her. I took her into PetSmart and picked out a new Wellness recipe that I hoped would be more palatable. She likes it, but is still grazing which is not her (or any beagle’s) usual M.O.  I wish I knew what was going on with her, but her recent bloodwork was great, and these vets don’t know her like Frank did. I feel frustrated and worried about her all the time. 

     I finished my first big needlepoint piece since moving or actually since deciding to move and packing away my stash of stitching supplies (they’re “in the POD!”😵‍💫😱). It has reminded me of all the things I love and dislike about needlepoint. My thumb and wrist are throbbing from grasping the stretcher bars, and I spent more time ripping out floss than threading it in, but I do enjoy trying the different stitches and admiring the final result. I love the designer, Kathy Rees’ work which you can view here. It’s so colorful! https://needledelights.com. This piece  called “Steampunk Strips” is comprised of my least favorite colors, but they seem to all work together well to give it an almost medieval feel. Now I’m onto a “simple” cross stitch that I have to teach next month at EGA called “Rhode Rage” (for all the swirling Rhodes stitches). 

BUGS! As the weather here heats up, I have noticed some prolific bug activity, not at the normal buggy happy hour of dusk like up north but CONSTANTLY; it’s especially annoying to be mowing the lawn whilst trapped in nature’s sauna and then have these tiny flying things dive bombing my face. I was so agitated this morning that I stomped inside and googled “why is Maryland so buggy?”. I assumed the web would reveal nothing except the realization that I was hallucinating from heat stroke. This is what popped up instead. Oh. Joy.  Note the lovely 17 year cycle of cicada infestation. Fortunately, by their next attack in 2038 I’ll be back living in a nice Kimry Moor townhouse in NY with snowflakes, not gnats bombarding  my face. At least they melt. 

April 18, 2026

    Today we met Charissa, Alex and the kids in New Windsor at the Tulip Festival. In addition to rows and rows of “you pick ‘em” flowers in every shade, there were kiddie activities, food vendors and live music. The first booth I saw sold fudge which was excellent! They had some unique flavors: red velvet, lemon meringue pie, and Dubai chocolate. The tulips were kinda bedraggled, probably wished they were back in Holland. The music was really good—folk and soft rock. I felt kinda proud that most of the tunes the band covered I’d heard live by the original artists during my “wild”, concert going youth. The kids were adorable. Amalia loves music and was trying to move her mouth to sing along with me as I sang along with the musicians. Theo found more pleasure in the dirt than the tulips. They also had a Hershey ice cream truck, and I tried a new flavor—Midnight Caramel River. If they offer it at Zems, I strongly recommend it!       

April 19, 2026 

    Today is a dreary, rainy day in Maryland, ushering in a cold spell. It may not even hit 50 tomorrow! I guess I shouldn't complain, though, because back in upstate NY it might snow. In addition to the weather, I’m a little bummed because I finally finished the twenty book Louise Penny mystery series with inspector Gamache. They are set in the charming Canadian village of Three Pines, filled with lovable, flawed, idiosyncratic characters. I began the series around the time I started moving, and truthfully, Three Pines seems more like home to me than here. I hate leaving there until October when the new book comes out, and I can go “home”. If you haven’t read them and want to, here’s her web site.https://www.louisepenny.com.  I guarantee that after your first visit to the town square in Still Life, you’ll want to read the other nineteen novels.

    Right now I’m finishing The Book of Lost Hours. We were supposed to Zoom with the author through Fayetteville Free Library’s book club, but I mixed up the date with one of my stitching Zooms, and we missed it. It was an okay book, but not especially recommendable. I am also reading Bruce Springsteen’s memoir, Born to Run and am learning so much about this musician who is one of my favorites. I’ve only seen him in concert once (at The Dome) during the 1985 Born in the USA tour. It was a “lifelight”, my new hybrid word for life highlight (ranking up there with watching Steve Walsh of Kansas perform and hearing the Goo Goo Dolls sing “Name” for the first time— both at SPAC); It makes me sad that I’ll probably not get back to that beautiful venue for concerts anymore. Maybe I can find a nice place around here.

     Anyway, that Springsteen concert, which was three hours long—no opening act—was so epic, so memorable in my heart and mind, that I never went to another. It may seem counter intuitive, but I wanted to preserve it as the singular and pinnacle experience that it was. Now, I regret that. And I mourn the deliberate, decades long dry spell during which I disallowed myself from enjoying live music. I must have been punishing myself or something during my forties and fifties. Bruce is doing his farewell tour at Nationals Stadium in DC on May 27. I desperately want to go, but my sister says it’s a "terrorist attack waiting to happen”, and I don’t know anyone else around here that I can drag to it. Oh well, I’ll always have the memory of the Dome, I guess.

    It doesn’t seem possible that their wedding was so long ago. Since then, I have stalked multiple matrimonial blogs, and I’ve never found another as lovely as theirs at the New York Botanical Garden. If a wedding is a foreshadowing of a husband and wife’s future, these two will be one of those elderly couples, still holding hands at 90, while tottering towards a rainbow lined sky together. 🌈 

April 22, 2026

      I’ve been here five weeks tomorrow and will be able to occupy my house a month from today. I’m getting very familiar with the layout of Walkersville and even know a few shortcuts. Without GPS I can get to Safeway (3 different ways), the Post Office, CVS, Sheetz gas station, Barrick Garden Center, two local parks and Pleasant Hill Produce where we joined a consortium.

   Down the road in Frederick, I can navigate to the vet (OPV) and PetSmart (of course), Wegmans, M&T Bank, the UPS store, IHOP, Worman’s Mill town square., and the Ceresville Mansion. I’m also pretty sure I could nose my way back to the candy store in Thurmont and the two substandard ice creameries we’ve tried—not that I have any interest in revisiting those last 3 destinations.

   Around the Discovery neighborhood where my sister and I both live I’ve met three humans and four dogs. I can meander through the curving streets and community paths without getting lost…usually.  Lily will not have to get used to a new walking area when I move again. But we will both have to adjust to a new house and yard. I’m anxious to do that! 

April 23, 2026

    On Tuesday I took Lily back to the vet for blood work to see why she does not always want to eat, considering that she is 1) a beagle and 2) on prednisone. She should be ravenous. She’s been like this off and on, mostly off, since Grady left us about 10 weeks ago. On Sunday, she didn’t eat breakfast until 8 pm. Of course, ten minutes after I made the vet appointment on Monday morning, the dog ate voraciously and begged for more.      

    I am flummoxed. Her bloodwork from February was great. Her physical exam was fine. Yes, she has since been stressed with the loss of her brother, her home and her pack. She was beside herself Saturday night because I left for three hours, and maybe that was the reason for her fasting on Sunday? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️I wish I had a vet I could trust (Frank), but I have what I have. Even though she rallied, I kept the appointment. You don’t mess with Addison’s Disease.

    So her bloodwork was good. One kidney measure was “slightly elevated”, so they are now treating her as if she has renal issues which I think is premature. She’s on prescription, low protein dog food and can’t have real chicken which is the only thing she really likes. They told me to give her daily Pepcid and an appetite booster. Ironically, for the three days in a row, she has eaten better than she has since Grady died. I know I need to follow their guidance, but I’m so conflicted. 

April 25, 2026

     Today we went to the Fiber Festival in Frederick, although I confess it was the fudge vendor (from the Tulip Festival) and not the booths for knitters and weavers that lured me there. Charissa and Alex dropped off Theo and went to lunch (with Amalia). They are both adorable. We think the baby may have said her first word, “burp”, although Mary insists she has previously said “yiayia”. She is a tiny thing and was wearing jeans and a pink sweater with a crocheted collar that I coveted for my own wardrobe. Theo actually ate, and we took him and Lily on a “nature walk” through the community trails. 

Hallelujah 

April 26, 2026

     I’ve become very interested (the Millennials and Gen Z-ers would say “obsessed with”) the song, “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. Great songwriter that he was, his voice was a dirge, so I was listening to Chester Bennington performing it at Chris Cornell’s funeral service. (Cornell, the lead singer of Soundgarden, committed suicide in 2017). The song was even more poignant because  a few months later, Chester Bennington, lead singer of Linkin Park, also took his own life. 

    Anyway I noticed that the verses he sang were not the same as the four verses first recorded in 1984 which I had googled. Here are the original four stanzas on Cohen’s recording:

Now I've heard there was a secret chord                             
That David played, and it pleased the Lord,                                                                                                                                                         But you don't really care for music, do you?                                                                                                                                                           It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,                                                                                                                                                                   The minor fall, the major lift,                                                                                                                                                                                 
The baffled king composing Hallelujah. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof.                                                                                                                                                   You saw her bathing on the roof.                                                                                                                                                                          Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.                                                                                                                                                   She tied you to a kitchen chair.                                                                                                                                                                            She broke your throne, and she cut your hair.                                                                                                                                                    And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the Name in vain.                                                                                                                                                                                   I don't even know the Name.                                                                                                                                                                                  But if I did, well really, what's it to you?                                                                                                                                                         There's a blaze of light in every word.                                                                                                                                                                     It doesn't matter which you heard.                                                                                                                                                                       The holy or the broken Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best; it wasn't much.                                                                                                                                                                                     I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch.                                                                                                                                                                          I've told the truth; I didn't come to fool you.                                                                                                                                                      And even though it all went wrong,                                                                                                                                                                         I'll stand before the Lord of Song.                                                                                                                                                                       With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halleluja, Hallelujah

    Apparently Cohen wrote multiple verses of this song over five years, some say as many as 80, and finally, painstakingly selected four. Seven years after he recorded it, John Cale asked to see them and was sent 15 pages of lyrics. Cale recorded five verses, Cohen’s original first two and three others which he chose from the songwriter’s pages. The new version was more focused on a relationship and was very dark. Well, John Cale’s variation was used in the Shrek movie, so of course, the cartoon adaptation became the one everyone—more than 300 other musicians—covered and is the one that every listener knows.

    I think this is unfortunate because it omits and therefore buries the theme of the song which is, “There's a blaze of light in every word. It doesn't matter which you heard. The holy or the broken Hallelujah.”  Hallelujah roughly translates into “praise God in song”. To me the Cohen’s message is that there are praiseworthy things here on earth that are both sacred and secular if you have eyes to see and ears to hear: the winter’s icy, naked branches, blossoming into spring’s promise, a certain note in a piece of music that strikes a perfect chord inside you, a baby’s tiny hand grasping your finger as she smiles, the lonely wind, wailing through a summer storm, the tenderness and strength you never knew you possessed to care for a loved one, the image of your dog, running free and joyfully behind the veil after you’ve had to say “good-bye”. These things are of this world, not of heaven, yet are no less sacred or less worthy of Hallelujah than anything divine.

    I wish there were a version of this song of praise with Leonard Cohen's original lyrics but sung in a voice that is anyone’s but his. I would listen to it everyday…just to remind myself. 

April 27, 2027

  When I was a teacher, I bemoaned Mondays. Although I never liked the Bangles, I related to their tune, “Manic Monday,”

It’s just another manic Monday (Ooh-oh).                                                                                                                                                        Wish it were Sunday (Ooh-oh).                                                                                                                                                                        Cause that's my fun day (Ooh-oh).                                                                                                                                                                       My I-don't-have-to-run day (Ooh).                                                                                                                                                                           It's just another manic Monday 

I sang along to the Boomtown Rats song, “I don’t like Mondays.” That was until I found out it was inspired by a psychotic teenage girl who fired into a school playground and offered the title phrase to the police as her motivation. I guess that explains the weird line, “I wanna shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot the whole day down.”

    Ironically now that I’m retired, Monday is my favorite day of the week. The mail resumes, television vastly improves from the dearth on Sunday, and everything that was closed, reopens—except some restaurants.  Most importantly, the dread of five teaching days no longer looms over me like an ominous storm cloud, which could burst open and overwhelm me at any second. 

   It’s not that I hated my job. I loved the kids, enjoyed the curriculum that I had total liberty to create, and treasured the company of my friends on staff. It was the stress of the constant, often overlapping to do list: webpage updates, emails, paperwork, grading, meetings, etc. All of it made me feel like some aged-out athlete, trying in vain to complete an never ending obstacle course without collapsing into a heap.  A colleague  of mine called our school, “The great sucking place”, which was so perfect.  Teaching sapped all my time, energy and brain power, leaving no reserves for anything joyful. 

     So why do I miss it? God knows I was planning my retirement party five years out. It was a gala, complete with a candy buffet, an acoustic duo and a Ben and Jerry ice cream truck. Maybe it’s because the people who attended it had became my second family. And my days with the kids imbued me with a sense of purpose and a feeling of accomplishment I have not replaced since June 30, 2019, my official expiration date. How am I both relieved that it’s over and nostalgic for that time in my life?  It’s a mystery.

April 28, 2026

   I am about a third of the way through I Am Phil. It’s a new  memoir by Phil Ehart, the drummer and manager of Kansas, which has been my favorite band for over 50 years. I saw them live multiple times in their early days and in my early days, when the six members were truly a musical miracle. You may have heard, “Carry on Wayward Son” and probably know, “Dust in the Wind”, but this band was so much more! Listen to their masterpiece album, Leftoverture. Their body of songs is an intricate blend of classical elements and polyphonic rock. All of them were such gifted, mostly self taught musicians. They amazed me! Just watch this video of Carry On Wayward Son. 

    Hearing them live was a surreal experience. It felt like I was standing in the eye of a musical tornado, and the vocalist’s perfect tenor was the wind, propelling the other instruments to spiral and swirl around me. Their violinist, Robby Steinhardt, who died in 2021, was a marvel, the main lyricist, Kerry Livgren, wrote metaphysical poetry—think Tolkien meets Thomas Merton—when every other band in the seventies was singing about drugs, sex and boring minutiae. And…then…then…there was their lead singer and keyboardist! Steve Walsh had the voice of an angel and the physical appearance of a god. He’s 74 now and has lost his characteristic mane of dark hair and his sublime voice, but to this day, he is my favorite musician. And in my mind, he’s still young and beautiful.

    In the early eighties, he briefly left Kansas to form his own group, Streets. I saw them at the Lost Horizon in Syracuse on Nov 2, 1983 and stood right below him. Steve was extremely athletic and high energy during performances (he was known for doing handstands on his keyboard). That, and what I’m sure was a hearty snort of cocaine, caused him to perspire intensely during concerts. Well, at some point during this particular one, he flicked his long, gorgeous hair and swoosh! a spray of sweat descended on me. It remains one of the best moments of my life although I tragically lost the jacket he had sweated on. Steve Walsh rejoined Kansas a few years after that, but the original six musicians never reunited, and I never saw them, or Steve, live again. 

    Anyway, since I was an avid—some might say rabid—Kansas fan over the years, I’m not learning a ton that I didn’t already know from this book, but every new bit of information I get, I clutch onto like a precious gem. My dad used to say to me, "Wherever you go, you take Laurie with you.” And I do not believe he said this as a compliment. (I may have been a bit sullen and a tad negative back then…) But I will add a corollary to his words: “Wherever Laurie goes, she takes Kansas with her.” And that music and those memories it evokes help to make anyplace where I am feel safe and warm and home. 

April 29, 2026

    Oh! I just saw the little, tail-compromised squirrel who lives in some tree around here. We’ve haven’t met yet, though. I can’t lure him with peanuts because there are about five outdoor cats skulking around, and I don’t want to unintentionally cause a tragedy. Besides there’s a tree around front with gigantic walnuts, and I just can’t compete with that. 

    It’s another dismal day in Walkersville. Apparently I was misinformed about Maryland’s weather! These overcast, chilly days somehow make me long for home which makes NO sense. It’s not like I came from Maui; whatever unseasonable streak of days we may be having here, I KNOW it’s gotta be worse up north, so why the longing? Maybe I am homesick because the gray sky and never ending jacket weather remind me so much of NY? That must be it. 

    It’s nearing the end of the month, and this week I rushed  to complete my April ToDo list. I hit up Wegmans for groceries and CVS for drugs, started a local M&T bank account, pit-stopped by the vet for Lily’s new kidney drugs and ordered her kidney food (yum!🤮) from Chewy, mailed cards to some friends, caught up with others on the phone and finished my current book, I am Phil.

    Most importantly, this afternoon I will see a man about a fence. I finally made contact with the handyman my realtor recommended. He was very slow to get back to me, but I hated to use someone else as Rosie made him sound like a cross between Frank Lloyd Wright and Bob the Builder. Well, I complained to Rosie, and she must have mad sway with him because three minutes after I texted her, he finally called me.  It was worth the wait because he can do EVERYTHING I need, including fencing in Lily. 

     At my new house, the neighbors’ fences on each side of my yard are dog secure. But the fence on the back of my own property is one of those sad, corral ones that they love down here. Think rodeo or cowboys, then imagine a bunch of the horizontal wooden poles broken and bent, and you’ve got the picture. Now, those who know Lily well realize she’s not exactly a big escape risk. She has always had her own special speed—I call it “maybe I’ll move today”. Plus, she is now fifteen and has arthritis. Yet, she is a beagle and will follow her nose if a rabbit or an outdoor cat comes into view. A dogproof fence is my first priority.

    Second in importance is a new deck. The current one on the back of the house is tiny, old and basically an extreme do over. I’ve been gathering ideas on Pinterest, and am very excited to replace it. I imagine planters and benches as the perimeter instead of rails and a ramp to replace the steps. (safer for beagles prone to back problems and toddlers prone to tripping).  My third priority is buying a washer/dryer and hooking them up anywhere but the basement where the previous owner did her laundry. She is taking her giant appliances with her which is fine with me since they look like I'd need my aviators' license to operate them. After all that, I figure I’ll just hand my home inspection report to this poor, unsuspecting guy and point him to my house. 

May 1, 2026

    Today is May 1st, May Day, Beltane and a Full Moon (Flower Moon). It’s a perfect day to read Tarot cards which I will do tonight as soon as the moon and stars peak out from the black silk of the sky . I just bought a new deck which re-illustrates the cards as stained glass windows. At one point, I had about 20 variations of the Ryder-Waite (original) Tarot deck, but I sold most of them on eBay. Now I’m down to four: Ryder, Tapestry (Zerner-Farber), Stained Glass and Game of Thrones. It’s fun to flip through and see how different artists have interpreted the 78 major (22) and minor (56) arcana. Of course, my favorite, Tapestry set, is located…you guessed it…in the POD.

     The most important thing about May 1st is that it’s the month I finally get into my new house. The scheduled date is May 22, but the former owner is ahead of herself with packing and may vacate sooner. I’m conflicted about leaving my sister”s place.  I’m excited to be reunited with my stuff and truly start my life here. BUT Lily loves this yard and has gotten to know this house and her new people. I feel bad that she must start again from zero.. And it will feel weird to always be alone (Lily is a girl of few words) although you’d think I’d be used to it. I know I’ll be very busy through the end of this month, settling in. And then, maybe guests will visit me… All of you are welcome!

May 3, 2026

      I just finished watching the latest version of Wuthering Heights, and all I can say is that somewhere out there, Emily Bronte is weeping and wailing at the wreckage they made from her novel. I read that damn book about ten times, and I’ve cursed it because reading such a twisted love story in my formative years made me think that hopeless, painful, doomed-from-the-start love was somehow incredibly romantic. And don’t even get me started about Mr Rochester, the so called hero in Jane Eyre. I finally figured out the truth with no help from either of the two famous Brontë sisters.     

    The 2026 film changed the plot, cut out critical characters, altered the personalities and motivations of the remaining ones, and in the end, made Catherine and Heathcliff such heinous people, ones with no redeeming qualities, that you couldn't even scrounge up an ounce of pity or a teaspoon of tears for their doomed romance. I should add that two of the “hottest” actors in Hollywood—Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi—were the leads. I’m sure whoever was responsible for that casting figured their name power would boost movie revenues, yet was blind to the fact that neither of them can act.  It was pretty horrible. When I wasn’t laughing.

May 4, 2026

    This morning I bought a new hoodie which is hardly big news, but I got it from the EB Foundation. Most people don’t know much about EB or Epidermolysis Bullosa, which is a rare genetic disorder present from birth. Babies with EB lack critical proteins that bind the skin's two layers together. Without these proteins, the skin tears apart, blisters, and peels off, leading to severe pain, disfigurement, and internal and external wounds that may never heal. Children with EB are called “Butterfly Children” because their skin is as fragile as the wings of a butterfly.

    If they live to adulthood, EB patients may lose their ability to walk and often lose limbs to aggressive squamous cell carcinoma that their constant wounds make them prone to. The best case scenario is that these poor kids spend the rest of their lives in pain and wrapped in gauze to prevent injury, infection and septic shock. Because of this, everyday activities we take for granted like eating, sleeping, walking and playing can become insurmountable tasks. You can find out more about it HERE. 

    I know this is a dark, depressing topic which may hang heavy on a sunny spring day, and I didn’t go looking for it. I was searching for a Pearl Jam concert to watch, and I kept getting the phrase, Matter of Time. Was it a new Pearl Jam album? No, it was a documentary that Eddie Vedder and his wife made about EB. Fifteen years ago they co-founded the EB Research Institute. Back in 2010, the only  “treatment” for the disease was gauze and bleach baths. Now there are 50+ trials going on and 3 FDA approved drug treatments. Researchers believe a cure is imminent, and this isn’t only great news for EB kids and their families. The genetic research can make inroads in finding cures for Parkinson’s, Huntington’s, Cystic Fibrosis and other rare diseases. 

    I was profoundly moved by this documentary (Netflix), awed by the challenges these patients and their families faced with grace and faith while dealing with such uncertain lives and futures. I find it inspirational that Eddie Vedder, who is a millionaire 100 times over and can rest on his decades of artistic accomplishments, is trying to create positive change in the world. Unlike Jeff Bezos, who “bought” Venice, Italy for his ridiculous, superfluous wedding to a Botox-boosted, society poser, the Vedders are humanitarians. They are grateful, generous, empathetic and kind. Knowing there are people like that gives me hope for this world. 🌍🌎

May 5, 2026

This video should have made me laugh out loud, as Jon Stewart always does, but it just made me really, really angry and a little scared. I won’t say more as I promised myself I wouldn’t address politics on this blog. I’ll save that for Facebook posts. But…JEEZ!
https://youtu.be/oneo86z5VG8?si=Y_o53HZ45fxz0lZt

I had to look at these pictures to calm down.

May 7, 2026

   Today we are going out for ice cream again, but it’s back to that cow pasture place, so I can’t get too excited about it. I heard it was winter coat weather for a few days up in NY, so I guess eating anything under a sunny sky should be an opportunity for gratitude, not complaint. Nearby Frederick is supposedly a foodie paradise, but we don’t go out to eat much…or at all. We got pizza from Cugino Forno which had high Yelp ratings, but it was just so-so. And I’ve already bemoaned the ice cream situation. Maybe I’m too picky or have a bad attitude?  

     It’s not like Syracuse was a Mecca of food choices. There was Avocolis for Italian (good) and Erawan for Thai (very good). Nothing to which my stomach ever demanded a return visit. There was Zems for ice cream and Hercules Candy for fun. The Eggplant had decent pancakes…An Italian bakery and gelato place was supposed to open in Fayetteville, but it got delayed, and then I left. I wonder if it’s any good? So far the only impressive food I’ve tasted in Maryland is this fudge, but we haven’t really ventured out. I miss Zems…

May 8, 2026

   Today Lily and I were out for our walk and noticed an elderly lady we’ve passed multiple times. We always nod and say “good morning” to each other, but this time, for no particular reason, we stopped to chat. It turns out she also moved here from NY—the Binghamton area. Not only that, but she is from Owego, a picturesque town on the southern tier. It lies beside the Susquehanna River , and it was my home during my early teaching days! She, too, had walked down River Row, shopped at The Hand of Man, and attended the annual Strawberry Festival. All my favorite things to do there, she knew!

     Even though I only lived in Owego for two years, that time is still so vivid. My memories loom in technicolor and overwhelm past visions of my more recent lives, set in other places. Keith visited me there as well as my two favorite students, Matt and Rob (after they had graduated HS). They said they worried that I was lonely. My nephew, who was a toddler, called the town “Aunt Wego” because my sister would so often drive to see me and buy treasures in the unique stores along the river. 

    Reminiscing is bliss. I can recall carefree days, walking past the bridge that spanned the Susquehanna or watching the water lap lazily along while I had coffee and dessert on the porch cafè at the Hand of Man, a magical shop beyond my writing ability to describe (See pics). Owego was the postcard perfect,19th century American town with its huge gazebo, Victorian lined streets and the sound…always the gentle sound of flowing water, serving as the sweetest background music to my life. But mostly, it was the peacefulness and the possibility of that time that I cherish and can’t help mourning. I was young, the future lay spread out before me in any direction I chose to travel. My life was rich with the hope of what might be.

    I left Owego in 1993 because it was too far from my new job in Ithaca, but by then, the shimmer had tarnished for me. Keith had stopped flying up from Florida to save me, the boys had left home to find far away jobs, and it seemed loneliness was my most frequent visitor.  Although I returned often, I never could recapture the zen of life there. Then in 2011 terrible floods destroyed 90% of the town, including River Row where I had lived above a law office. The Hand of Man closed permanently a few years later. Robert Frost was right: “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”

   Owego is so sleepy, so out-of-the-way and has maybe 42 residents! (Actually 4,200). What are the odds that I would come across Judy who  may have actually strolled those streets the same years that I did? She seemed awfully nice and chatty, and I hope we can get to know each other. (She has no dog…)

May 11, 2026

      Yesterday we went to Mother’s Day brunch at Charissa’s house. Menu: eggs in purgatory with garlic toast, gourmet mac and cheese, fruit salad, blueberry-lemon bread, chocolate dipped almond cookies and lemon tiramisu. And mimosas. Charissa’s Greek in-laws were uncharacteristically low key, but perked up when Alex suggested making a batch of Negronis.  As we left, they were brainstorming a signature drink for Amalia’s Christening. They do love their alcohol!

    I played super heroes with Theo. He’s into Spider Man, and my sister bought him the action figures which he really didn’t need as role models. He’s already high energy and very loud (but also super cute and smart). I hope he calms down by kindergarten this September. Amalia is so tiny and adorable. She will be seven months old in three days and weighs less than 13 pounds. She “talks” and teethes nonstop and just cut her two bottom teeth. Poor Champ is still unsteady after his bout with canine vertigo and was begging for attention. He enjoyed eating anything Amalia dropped from her food tray…which was a lot.

    We left with flowers and cards. All-in-all it was worth the tongue lashing I got from Lily when we returned. Today I am hoping to hear from the handyman who canceled on me the first time and stood me up the second. I really need that fence done soon, but I did commit to work with him; I don’t know how long to wait or when to call it quits and just call a fence company.  

May 12, 2026

Steps to get a fence in Walkersville, MD

1. At 7:15 am, after two failed attempts, finally meet with the handyman who tells you that you need a survey.

2. Look through your closing documents and don’t find one.

3. Call your title insurance company and be told that —amazingly—they didn’t do one yet still gave you title insurance.

4. Ask them for a survey company referral and be told—amazingly—they do not know of one.

5. Find a property records site, but realize it’s a scam when your phone alerts you your card’s been denied due to a fraud alert.

6. Call your credit card company to reactivate your card.

7. Find another property records site with a “.us” instead of a “.com” only to discover that it is also a scam AFTER you have provided your credit card info.

8. Call your credit card to cancel your card.

9. Text your realtor for a reputable survey company.

10. Call the number she provided to discover that the company is permanently closed.

11. Retext your realtor for another survey company.

12. Call the company to find out they don’t service your county.

13. At 11:15 take your dog for a walk to relieve the extreme frustration of four wasted hours and still no surveyl

Steps to get a fence in Fayetteville, NY

1. Call Arrow Fence.

May 14, 2026

    It’s another chilly day in Maryland. We’ll be lucky if we hit 60 degrees. In the mornings when I walk Lily, I still wear my Lands End parka. The handyman told me that this has been an uncharacteristically long spring and an unusual cold spell. He said last year they opened their pool in April! Next week we have three days in the 90’s. I don’t understand these wide weather fluctuations. 

    Yesterday we picked up our first produce box at the Walkersville farm consortium, Pleasant Hill Farms. For $30 we got a pound of asparagus, a quart of strawberries, eight beets and a bag of salad greens. Pretty sure we could have gotten all that for half the price at Wegmans. There is no local farmers market in town which is bizarre since we are surrounded by farmland. There are several in nearby Frederick, but none I can walk too like we did in Fayetteville.

    I’ll probably spend the gloomy day binge watching this really creepy show on Netflix called Yellowjackets. It’s yet another version of plane crash survivors trapped on some hellspace. Think the novel Lord of the Flies, (which I hated), the movie Alive (which I loved) and the TV show Lost (which I tried but failed to get into). This one is about a girls’ soccer team; it goes back and forth between now and 25 years prior when their plane went down. There is a strong element of horror in it—definitely not for everyone.

May 16, 2026

    Yesterday I got the pilot kits that my guild is doing for a well known needlepoint designer, Jennifer Riefenberg. You can see her work in the link. Typically, stitchers will help a designer by trying out a new design before she teaches a class or makes it available to the public. In this way, any errors are caught,  confusing instructions are corrected and helpful suggestions are made before publishing. We pay for the kits but get the class free. One of the members of our chapter is friends with Jennifer and arranged it. You can see the two pilots below. I stitched her “Winter Fire” last year and turned it into a Christmas pillow. It was not easy!

Pilot:  “Beach Sampler”.                            Pilot: “Infinite Winter”.                                             “Winter Fire”

    I will probably not get a chance to start on them today as we will have a guest, my niece’s son. Theo is larger than life in every possible way: he’s taller, smarter, louder, wilder and (IMO) cuter than the average almost five year old. He loves active play with only limited tolerance for sit-down activities like arts and crafts (although we DO try). I am hoping we can take him to the Walkersville Community playground to tire him out. He will squeal with delight at the sight of the huge jungle gym. We may hit that cow-to-cone ice cream place, too, so he can see the calves.. He loves cows, and begged to be one for Halloween. 

May 17, 2026

     I’m not sure if it’s a millennial thing, a Greek thing or something unique to my niece and her husband, but they cannot make a plan and stick to it. Events, days and times change as quickly and drastically as the Maryland weather. So Theo did not arrive yesterday for a play date. We did not take him to Walkersville Community Park. And he did not amuse and amaze us with his large, charismatic personality. And while waiting for them to mull and muse over it, I missed the huge Yard Sale at St. Timothy’s that I was looking forward to. Instead, we are bringing him and his family out to lunch today—at some still unspecified time, of course.  
    We do have the location. We will be chowing down at an eating establishment known as the Black Hog. Maryland may be renowned for crab, but honestly, their true love must be barbecue. There are three BBQ establishments in the Worman’s Mill side of Frederick alone: Black Hog, P.I.G.S (stands for pork is good stuff)—seriously, you can’t make this up—and some other place that starts with “pig” that makes pork sandwiches. Also notable are Smokey’s Smokehouse, Bub-B-que & The Sauced Savage. After binge watching the human flesh eating teens on Yellowjackets all week, thinking of this last place makes me queasy.
   I love swine. My first stuffed animal was a chartreuse pig named Alvira. I had a special relationship with my neighbors’ pet pig, Jeter, until the poor guy died young and tragically (gastro issues). I would never, EVER eat one. But this place was approved by my niece as both wild child and baby friendly. It has sweet potato and regular fries which Amalia loves. A French fry was her first solid food. Her food frenzy escalated from there because she will try to eat anything including human flesh (which doesn’t tickle now that her two bottom teeth have sprouted). She’s like this tiny, extremely enthusiastic cannibal. If only Lily were as avid an eater!

PS One guess what on the menu at Amalia’s Christening? 

May 19, 2026

Some days just feel like this…

May 19, 2026

   Three days of 90+ weather here followed by a series of 60’s. It’s crazy. Lily and I received good news from the vet yesterday after a nail biting weekend of waiting. Her BUN value is down and her urology panel is much improved! This means her kidneys are doing okay. Even better, Dr Arthur said if she likes chicken, she can have chicken even though low protein is preferred for less than perfect kidneys. I’ve tried everything, and the only other food she eats with great eagerness are Harry Potter butterbeer flavored goldfish. They ARE really tasty, and I highly recommend them for humans. 31 goldfish is 140 calories!
     Today I have a Zoom and am teaching a class for EGA.  Between my stitching light being trapped in the POD and having only one working lens on my glasses, I couldn’t count holes properly, so it didn’t come out very well. The snowflake is especially horrible, and I am restitching it the before class.  I joined the local guild which meets 40 minutes north in Hagerstown. However, they are trying to start a satellite chapter in Frederick which would be great for me. They are having a stitch-in at the Frederick Library this Saturday which I plan to attend. Maybe I’ll make a friend…?

May 20, 2026

    Today is our third 90+ degree weather experience. I’m running out of summer clothes. Lily is reluctant to walk if it’s over 70 which it has been hitting before 7am. And then the bugs come out…😳😱🦟🦟🦟 Right now at 7:12 am it’s 75! Fortunately, the POD is arriving Friday with my possessions which the movers will be transferring on Saturday. Today I have to call the utilities, so I will have fun stuff like electricity and air conditioning and running water. 

   Everyone says, “You must be so excited about moving into your house.” I just smile and nod. But the truth is, I’m very apprehensive, not just for Lily’s readjustment, which may make her unwilling to eat again, but for my own. It’s weird. I’ve spent most of my adult life alone and liking it, but now I kinda dread the prospect. It feels unsettling to live among strangers, to sleep without good friends in homes on both sides of me and all around the area: people whose porches I’ve sat on, whose dogs I’ve fed treats to, and whose children I taught. Though my sister is a few blocks away, It’s not like she’s going to run over and fight off a burglar.     

     I’m thinking about keeping the homeowner’s ADT security system. The website Neighborhood Scout gives this area a B+ for safety. My beloved ‘hood in NY earned an A. Why did I leave such perfect peace and safety for this? Some days I am not sure. Some days I think this was all a big, expensive, impulsive mistake, one that isn’t easily, cheaply or quickly corrected. Maybe being an “Elderly Lady Behind the Counter in a Small Town” isn’t so bad? (See April 4 Blog). Maybe Eddie Vedder was just over reacting?    

    Speaking of, I am going to admit something I never dreamed I would a few months ago: I really, really like Pearl Jam! I’m not talking about the grunge-raging, mosh-pit encouraging, electric guitar spewing, angry band of the early nineties when Eddie Vedder would climb up the rigging and dive into the upstretched arms of the frenzied audience to crowd surf. Back then his lyrics ranged from occasionally brilliant to incomprehensible. His voice, while a rich, unusual baritone was “tune optional”, and he often mumbled words. In fact he did this so often that SNL did a hilarious spoof of him which you can watch HERE. 

    Somewhere along the way, Pearl Jam grew up; Eddie, as their primary lyricist, matured. He cut his trademark long curls and was actually able to grow facial hair. When I was watching the EB documentary I wrote about in my May 4 post, I noticed that during the benefit concert footage, he played a lot of acoustic music which spoke to me. I went back and did a closer listen to their greatest hits. While they will never be Kansas, Bruce Springsteen or even the Goo Goo Dolls for me, I found enough good stuff to warrant a deep dive into their 12 studio albums. At some point after I’ve moved, maybe I’ll post a few of my favorite tunes. 

May 21, 2026

    It’s a dreary morning but I’m not feeling gloomy because if all goes as planned, Mary, Lily and I will meet up with my cousin Lisa who lives near Rochester, NY. She is helping her daughter move to Silver Springs, MD which is about an hour south of us. I haven’t seen my aunts or cousins since mid-March. Courtney will be down here through October with the Washington Nationals baseball team. 

    While searching for a dog friendly place for us to gather, I found a website called Bring Fido . It’s a great resource! You can plug in places and specific types of business, restaurants, hotels, etc. where dogs are welcomed. Maybe this will help me get out more without the fear of leaving Lily behind and stressing her out which causes her not to eat. It would help me to acclimate—which has been an up and down process and mostly down lately—if I weren’t almost house bound.

     I also found an ice cream chain called Brusters which carries my second favorite ice cream flavor: Perry’s Graham Canyon. It has Graham cracker ice cream, with Graham cracker swivels and chunks of chocolate covered sponge candy (created in Buffalo, NY). My #1 favorite is Ben & Jerry's Seven Layer Bar, like the delicious cookie, which, tragically, is now in their graveyard along with my third favorite flavor, Crème Brûlée. Crème Brûlée has a ripple of burnt sugar crystals that is heavenly. I was devastated when it departed from the grocery shelves.

   The last time I had Seven Layer Bar was at my retirement party when I hired a Ben & Jerry scoop truck. I used to do this cool English unit where the kids read about their ice cream and the flavor gurus who created them. Then they would come up with a new flavor and write a sensory description. Each period would vote, and the writers/creators of two or three top choices would lead a group to write and film a commercial and design a pint container. Then my whole class would pick a best new flavor. Each member of the winning team would get a pint of their favorite B & J. 

      It was such a happy way to jump start the year and gave the students the delusional belief that English class would be fun. All those years of promoting their ice cream, all those calories I consumed to justify having empty pint containers to line my bulletin board, and I still haven’t made it to their factory in Waterbury, Vermont. 

May 22, 2026

    We had a nice lunch yesterday with my cousin, Lisa. Lily was so good and seemed to love the adventure. I’m hoping we will meet up again when Lisa and her husband return for a Nationals game in July. Plus, she’ll be at our cousin-brunch when Mary and I visit NY in June. I am blessed to have such a wonderful extended family. 

   It’s another dreary morning, but it’s technically move-in day although I won’t really move to stay until tomorrow. The POD has arrived, but because the universe is a stand up comedian, anything I might need or want desperately (clothes, shoes, my glasses, etc) are way in the back, unreachable. I was only able to retrieve a toy for Lily. 

   My walk through with Rosie the realtor is at 6pm tonight, and the POD will be emptied out tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to wear something, anything, that is not overalls or that has crazy bohemian print (i.e. the cheap clothes I bought at Natural Life to get me through the 90 degree weather). It’s both an exciting but daunting prospect to start fresh at the new house. 

March 23, 2026

    Well, just like everything else about this move, yesterday was a mess. The POD did arrive in time, but the former owner was not gone and not even close to packed up. Her deadline was 6am. When I arrived to sign for the POD and, I hoped, to start moving the light stuff inside, the place was a disaster, and three young guys plus her realtor, Adam, were frantically packing and hauling her possessions onto a small flat bed truck. For those of you new to the blog, this person had almost three  months to pack and leave. 
    Back when we had parent conferences, one  of my colleagues used a euphemism to tell parents that their children were liars. She said there were “truth issues”. So let me just say there were a bunch of “truth issues” yesterday on her part AND on the part of her realtor.  She claimed the movers had cancelled the day before because of the rain; according to her the toxic chemical pick-up guys were also afraid of the rain and hadn’t come either. She tried to buy time and delay the walk through by saying she had two far away appointments, both in the morning and the afternoon, and therefore couldn’t do one until 6 pm. Yet, the “appointments” didn’t not happen once we agreed to the later time. To avoid me and my wrath, she texted me that she wasn’t home, a “truth issue” Adam confirmed, even though I could hear her talking upstairs. She has a Jamaican accent, and all the workers were blond, so it was pretty obvious she was on site, giving orders. How did she go from not home to suddenly upstairs when I was at the foot of  them the whole time? Can she apparate like in the Harry Potter novels? 
    At that point, I turned to Adam, who was there helping, and said, “This is f#cked up”. He offered me a cannabis gummy. Also wine, lemonade and some pizza. I declined his hospitality. Finally we we decided to give her until this am to be out, and that is only because the cleaners that Adam called didn’t arrive until 3pm, and I wanted to make sure they had time to do a decent job. Walk through is in two hours. We shall see… 

May 23, 2026 UPDATE 

   What a lovely day to move in—NOT. I’m told this is highly unusual weather for MD in late May. I must have taken NY’s climate with me. It’s actually warmer up there! Despite having to stand outside in the cold rain for two hours directing the movers, I suppose it all went well. The POD is empty, only one thing arrived broken, and it wasn’t very valuable to me. This whole process has been so fraught with problems that I sometimes wonder if the universe has been trying to warn me against it. Too late! 

    After struggling for over an hour, the men concluded they couldn’t dismantle my treadmill enough to bring it upstairs, so it’s currently sitting in the middle of my living room like this Rodin statue—that is if Rodin had had a really, really bad day cuz it is not exactly a fine art piece. It’s next to my dining room table where I hope it’ll at least serve as a diet incentive and a cautionary reminder: if you eat too much, Laurie, you’ll  be on this monstrosity for two whole hours!

    I feel relieved that this moving in part is over, but mainly I’m overwhelmed at all the work yet to be done. Adam, the CBD gummy dispensing realtor, claimed he and the cleaners were there all night. Things did look pretty good, but the oven and bathtub need a lot more attention before I can use either. Maybe I’ll just get a new one—oven not bathtub. Right now, I’m chilled to the bone and just want to curl up under a blanket with Lily, but, alas she is not speaking to me because I left her for three hours this morning.

May 24, 2026

    I am hoping for a nicer day today. And a better attitude. The weather, at least, will be warmer and not as rainy. I plan to work on unpacking this morning.  My living room is flooded with banker boxes, not to mention that giant treadmill “sculpture”. I decided to buy a new oven. The current one has baked-on dirt, and the stovetop is beyond repair. I have to purchase a washer/dryer, and I really should paint the walls. All these added expenses, plus the fence and deck, the mortgage I had to assume to afford a house in the ridiculous Maryland real estate market, and the thousands I’ve already spent on just getting myself and my stuff down here have made me concerned about finances. I never much worried about money before.

    I do realize that the last few posts on my blog have been very negative. I know I am lucky and will try to be more grateful. I have friends with severe health and family issues who would be thrilled to have my “problems”.  I have to reset my thinking and look at  the positives, not focus on the dark side of this move.  I guess I’m not trying hard enough, am not resilient enough. I can’t just snap my fingers and have everything clean and in order in a day, a month or maybe even a year. It took a quarter century to craft a life in Fayetteville: make friends, become part of the community, and transform my house into a home I felt comfortable and safe in. I can’t spend all my time here wishing for or planning a retreat back to NY. That’s no way to live.

May 25, 2026  

   I know I’m supposed to be trying to achieve a state of hope, gratitude and positivity, but yesterday was rough. Maybe a little sun instead of a third day of uncharacteristically cold and gloomy weather, would have helped. The so called cleaners that Adam hired, didn’t do a great job. Everything had to be redone. I definitely need to buy a new oven and to have the walls patched and repainted. 

     The backyard was totally neglected. She left rotting wood, yard debris and abandoned, huge ride-on mower in the shed that I although I specifically told Adam, aka Satan, that I did not want. It takes up the whole space, and since I have no garage, the shed is my only storage area. I’m going to have to hire someone to haul away all this junk. 

   She  put down a $2,000 security deposit, but Adam says her bank account was frozen by her ex-husband, and that he had to put her up at the Marriott and buy her food out of his own pocket. Is this another “truth issue” her gullible realtor got sucked into? Whether she’s bankrupt, psychotic or just a pathological liar, I can’t be heartless and ask for blood from such a pitiful stone.   

    In my overwhelming anxiety and emotional state I said some things I didn’t mean to my sister that made her feel bad. This is a person who has housed, fed and waited on me and put up with my elderly, fur shedding, bladder compromised beagle for two months. Nothing like spreading the misery around.

    One bright note is that I took Lily through the house, and she liked it. She sniffed around all the boxes and the huge treadmill and headed for the stairs, but I wouldn’t let her climb them. She wanted to stay out in the yard longer, but I had to prevent that, too, because of the fence situation and all the unsafe crap that was left underneath the deck. 

    Today I’ll put the kitchen together, and sleep in the house tonight. I wish I were looking forward to it. My guess is that i’ll either have a sleepless night, wondering why I did this to myself or cry myself to sleep like a big baby. At least Lily is still here with me. I think once things are in their right place, I’ll feel better. I think the weather will turn nicer on Thursday. I think I need to try harder.

May 25, 2026 UPDATE

      Today was much better for me. Somehow being able to clean the bathtub grout successfully in only 15 minutes shifted my mindset. The entire main level is done except for pictures. The bathroom is clean and able to be used without the occupant (me) cringing. Everything is in the cupboards, and the couch where Lily and I will sleep is ready for her with ramps and waterproof covers. My sister thinks I’m crazy to sleep on the couch, but I can’t sleep upstairs, away from Lily, and although she can climb them, she gets up several times in the night to go out. I’m afraid she (or I) would trip. She’s spry for her age, but she is fifteen! Many of you may remember I literally slept on a cot on the floor for a year and half when I got Remy. Doesn’t Lily deserve as much?
      The only glitch today—and it was a weird one—is that I cannot find my spring clothes. I had a large, zippered plastic bag with shortalls, shorts, and all my hangers. I figured it must be hidden under boxes, but now, with everything is in its right place, the bag is nowhere. It was was earmarked for the POD, and I checked the NY house a million times before I left. And on Saturday I saw that every thing was removed from the POD. It’s a mystery but not a tragedy. It just means I have to go full bohemian by wearing all that Natural Life hippie—wanna—be stuff I recently bought (See Blog from April 14, 2026, I Have Become a Pod Person). And really, why couldn’t the box with the bathroom scale go missing instead? I noticed it resting on the treadmill mocking me when I left, intending to get ice cream. The new house must have a sense of humor. Or be psychic.
    I decided after working so efficiently for five hours that I deserved a reward. My sister, Lily and I went to Bruster’s. I had Graham Central Station which is the same as Perry’s Graham Canyon. My sister had Ooey Gooey Butter Cake. They have some really cool, sounding flavors and claim they make ice cream on site which is nice except isn’t a very bucolic site. It’s next to Monocacy Blvd which is busy, and even the picnic tables in the back area can’t disguise the noise. But it’s the best I’ve found so far. I’m still searching for a place that has both great flavors and a nice atmosphere. Central NY patrons, just be grateful that you have Zems! It’s a local treasure

I wrote this yesterday but had no internet, and thus, no way to post it. 

May 26, 2026 

   We slept in the new house last night, and it was okay. Within an hour Lily had peed on the waterproof couch cover; from time to time, she leaks. I’m not sure why. Old age? Doggy dementia? Let’s just say I have a LOT of waterproof blankets in my house. What I don’t have is a washer/dyer. I’ll have to use my sister’s until Mark, the handy man, can hook mine up which, with the speed he is doing things, could be around Christmas. Other than that, Lily went outside once in the night to pee, played with her carrot 🥕toy and slept through the night without an incident. She ate half her breakfast, but did have to syringe her pills .

    Today or tomorrow, with the help of my nephew, I’m hoping to set up my internet and tv. I need to make a bunch of calls and go to FedEx. I have some sorting of towels and linens to do, and since it looks like a nice weather day, I hope to take Lily to the park. I feel moderately queasy, but not panic stricken like I thought I’d be, so that’s good. I realize this will be a period of adjustment for both of us. I can’t help thinking of how stress free and easy my life would still be if I had just stayed in NY, and wonder why I did this to myself; these are not helpful thoughts, I know. Ironically, I had to give up my therapist because I left the state, but because I left the state, I need her more than ever. I guess that’s a classic paradox.

    One great surprise is that after thinking it was a lost cause, I did find my spring outfits! They were in the suitcase with all the dog clothes. 🤪🤣I was so happy that they didn’t go missing as some of them were new, tags on, unworn. Also I called my realtor to let her know that the shed was filled with a can of gasoline, a huge ride on lawnmower and a million other things and that the homeowner left other junk behind in the backyard. I freaked when I opened that shed as I have no garage, and it is my only outdoor storage.  She contacted Satan (aka Adam), and he is sending a truck to take all the stuff away. He said to just point out what I need gone. I’m wondering how corrupt it would be to add a few of my own things that I need hauled. They’d never know the difference. Opinions? 

May 27, 2026. 

    Yesterday we found a place with decent pizza. It wasn’t great pizza—too greasy for me—but I don’t think they do Italian in general very well down here. This is not me being negative; it’s the opinion of my realtor who has lived in Maryland all her life. They certainly don’t have Utica Greens which are my favorite. Really good ones were even hard to find in upstate New York, though. But I guess finding appetizing food ranks pretty low on the scale of my discontentment. 

    Tuesday was an improvement on Monday, and Monday was way better than Sunday. I’m hoping if I can just view each successive day as a little more comfortable, a little less of an emotional struggle, my mindset will finally arrive where I want it to be. The POD is gone. Yes, I am no longer a POD person. Alex is coming over to set up my internet and TV which should help. And Rosie the realtor got Adam-Satan to come today with a truck to remove junk. I can’t decide if he’s just a nice but gullible fool, taken in by a psychopath, or a slick talking, operative. What I do know is I’d like to kick him. Really hard.

    The main issue now is that everything is difficult. Just getting a clean glass of water took me 20 minutes yesterday (details not worth retelling). The grass needs cutting badly, since the former owner didn’t do it very often, but my lawn mower is in the garage of my much missed next door neighbor in Fayetteville. None of these things are tragedies, but for some reason I feel like I’m on a psychic roller coaster, fluctuating between crying  jags of regret and rays of gratitude. Life used to be so effortless…I guess I started viewing it as too mundane, too boring. Now I want the ease of it back. I know that I am too focused on what I’ve lost and not what I’ve gained. (i.e. friends close by, a living area that I love, a bathroom I don’t have to climb stairs to use, the ability to leave my dog and run errands with worrying that she will have a nervous breakdown and go on a subsequent hunger strike.)

    I adore Lily but she is a big part of my difficulties. I can’t leave her in this strange house alone, so I cart her around wherever I go. She leaks, so I’m constantly doing laundry at my sister’s house. I must spend at least half the day worrying about her erratic appetite, her stress level, the giant, ever growing lipoma on her butt, the inexplicable fact that a dog who used a wee wee pad successfully for fourteen years suddenly doesn’t understand what it is for. 

    I remember June 6, 2019. Two weeks before I was set free from the anxieties of teaching, I adopted Remy. She was precious and adorable, but Lily did not think so, and would start fights with her. Once, with fangs out and aimed at Remy, Lily actually bit me and drew blood. For months I was stressed out as I went through four trainers to find one who could help. I had panic attacks and slept on a cot on  the floor with a gate between the two dogs, so I could be close to them both but not have a blood fight ensue overnight.

    I thought, why have I done this to myself? I could have eased into retirement bliss with the opressive weight of teaching removed, and now I have willing assumed another huge burden. I had fallen in love with Remy after @15 seconds, so I knew she was staying, and that I had to make it work. In hindsight, although we only had five years (minus one day—She died on June 5, 2024) they were the blessing of my life! Remy was the best mistake I ever made. Maybe Maryland will be the second best? I have to hope that some day I can say this and mean it.  

! I have internet and TV! I can watch Kansas concerts on the big screen!😃

May 28, , 2026

   Yesterday I took several steps forward;  just having internet again reduced my sense of frustration and helplessness.  The debris left behind at the house and in the shed was partially removed by Adam and his junk removal guy, Leland, with a promise to take the rest on Monday afternoon. I arranged to get rid of my monumental treadmill, too. Adam is either the nicest guy on the planet or completely duplicitous and diabolical. I’m still on the fence about which it is.  As I was walking out of my house, I saw a landscape truck at the neighbor’s and took the guy’s card, so I can get my grass cut!

    To celebrate the Wi-Fi connection, Mary and I went to Wormans Mill for ice cream. Someday, I can see myself living there— if I can find a townhouse that isn’t three stories high or has four bathrooms or one that is in my price range. I find that secluded area of Frederick very peaceful and safe. We have been watching this cool show on Netflix called The Burroughs. It takes place in a retirement community where something sinister and supernatural is going on. The Duffy Brothers, who wrote Stranger Things, produced it. Alfred Molina, who played inspector Gamache in the Three Pines series, stars. I love him! And it’s nice to watch a show focused  around people closer to my age, not Gen Z-ers and Millennials 

   I am still eating dinner at my sister’s house, and then we watch TV while Lily roams her back yard. I feel depressed when it’s time for us to go, like I’m leaving home and staying at a hotel. I get queasy with anxiety. I don't know why it fills me with such dread when I’ve lived alone most of my adult life, but it’s lonely here. I know it would have been worse had I started out by myself in this house immediately upon moving to Maryland. The 2 months at my sister’s were like a breezeway in a house from outdoors to inside, a transition from one place to another.  But it all had to end sometime. Maybe when we have a nice deck and a fenced in backyard of our own for Lily to wander in safely, being here will feel better.  Right now, I won’t  lie, I swing between feeling like I’m free falling down a deep dark hole that I can’t pull myself out of and getting a grip, counting all the ways life has smiled upon me and feeling grateful.
    John Cougar Mellencamp wrote this song called “Between a Laugh and a Tear” that describes this perfectly. I love his music, and his concert I saw at SPAC was so wonderful. Anyway, the lyrics are below. My favorite lines are, “between a laugh and a tear, smile in the mirror as you walk by, and, “I know there’s a balance, I see it when I swing past.” I’ve been vacillating between two emotional extremes all my life and the back and forth between positive and negative feelings  has increased down here and worn me out. Isn’t it time to stop swinging and find a balance? Wouldn’t that be so much more peaceful? You can listen to this awesomely profound song HERE.

Between a Laugh and a Tear

John Mellencamp

May 29, 2026 

     It’s nice to have a working TV again. I am indebted to my nephew, Alex, for patiently hooking it all up. Yet, how ironic that the one and often ONLY channel I watch daily, MSNow, requires an upgrade. How is this possible? It’s not Disney or ESPN; it’s a national news station! (of course Fox comes free with the basic package!) WTF? 

    The first thing I watched on TV was Remarkably Bright Creatures, a Netflix movie based on a book I had on my shelf for a few years. I didn’t read it because there was an octopus on the cover, and I thought it was about a zoo. I’m so glad I finally picked it up! I rooted for every flawed, broken charming character, cheered at the feel-good ending, and fell in love with Marcellus, the octopus.  

    The movie was a very good adaptation. Sally Field was outstanding, and the voice of Marcellus was done by the one and only—Alfred Molina! This guy is everywhere lately! But even a great film couldn’t include all the details or capture all the layers of Shelby Van Pelt’s story. The book is ALWAYS better.  Still, it’s well worth watching, especially if you need a mood boost.

    Today is a perfect weather day—sunny and warm with a breeze. Lily and I have been out walking twice, and she ate her breakfast at 7:30am! I wish I had a deck to sit out on that wasn’t splintery wood, held together by rusty nails.  I texted a plea to my missing-in-action handyman to please start some of my other work while we’re waiting interminably for a survey and permit tofor the fence. He was supposed to build Theo’s playhouse for my sister, but I advised her to find someone else unless she didn’t intended  to give it to him until next Christmas.

May 30, 2026

    After a difficult week with a few days when I felt I like I was free falling into a bottomless pit of panic and despair, yesterday was the first good one I’ve had in the house. I apologize for these last few blogs spewing whiny negativity and hope you have stuck with me. Friday’s weather was beautiful—sunny with a gentle, caressing breeze. Lily ate breakfast at 7:30 am and was looking for dinner at 2:30 in the afternoon! She had a very full day: took several short walks, including one to her favorite backyard (my sister’s), road shotgun on a trip to Brusters’s ice scream—cuz why not make a good day even better? and had a romp in Wormans Mill. We’ll be moving there, soon. 😂🤣

     I resolved my TV issue. To get the ONE channel I watch, I would need to pay $40 more per month! Apparently news is bundled with a huge sports package…like they are both of equal significance in a person’s life? You all know of my manic devotion to sports. Haha!  It is not worth it to depress myself daily by witnessing this train wreck of a country smolder and implode. I’m going to rid myself of Xfinity, add Sling, and save a whole bunch of money. These TV plans are so complex nowadays. I think they deliberately complicate them, so consumers can’t understand the details, just get dragged along, and pay way too much for something they don’t use or need. 

    Moving on. The handyman says he will be over “Monday or Tuesday” to attend to other house things whilst I am waiting for this turtle race of a fence process to move forward. Hopefully he will show up, but I have my doubts. Mary and I are having lunch with Rosie, our former realtor, on Tuesday, and I’m going to mention these incessant delays to her. She recommended him highly, and somehow has sway over the guy; maybe she can nudge him to move a little faster. 🤞🏼

    Because Friday was going so well, I splurged at Bruster’s. It’s a hike to get ice cream at that place, and the splodgy traffic makes it an uphill one (I don’t know if “splodgy” is even a word, but it describes the situation perfectly). A scoop of Graham Central Station is worth it. I also tried Pineapple Upside Down Cake (you get two scoops in a small)—it was good but way too sweet. Lily was offered a pup-cup, but I knew she wouldn’t eat it, so she just got water.

     We rounded off the day with my sister at Wormans Mill Gazebo where they have live music every Friday. The takeout at nearby Plaza Mexico was substandard; truly, although I didn’t want to say this to my sister while she was eating, what was in her bowl resembled something I’ve seen come out of both ends of my beagles from time to time. The music was just okay—nothing from this century or even the second half of the last one. Surrounding the square is The Village, a series of retirement condos which sounds like something right out of a horror movie (The Burroughs!). Plus there is an assisted living home, so we were the youngest people there.

    Lily probably had the best time of the three of us. She got chicken from my taco salad and caught the eye of an elderly lab who was there with his even more elderly humans. The two of them touched noses and then made lovey-dovey eyes to each other across the walkway. Through all the day’s activities, she was rock star, and slept through the night without leaking at all! Today we are attending a Strawberry Festival in the “metropolis” of Sabillasville, MD, population 354. I’ll keep you posted. 

May 31, 2026

    Tonight is a blue moon, a great night to read Tarot. I fished my favorite deck out of one of the twenty yet unpacked bankers boxes at the top of the stairs, and I plan to take advantage of May’s second full moon by reading the cards under its light. I learned just last year that on rare occasions, a full moon occurs twice in a single month which is where the phrase, “once in a blue moon” originates. After this past week, I should probably be afraid to even touch the deck for fear of learning what lies ahead, but it’s all in good fun. I’m not sure whether I believe in Tarot or not, but I certainly don’t believe in my ability to interpret its meanings.

     Yesterday’s frolic to the Strawberry Festival was a bust. We drove thirty miles through winding, heavily treed, county back roads that led to a hidden hamlet. We finally found the “festival”, which was just a tiny, brick church with a sign that said, “serving soup and sandwiches inside” while on the lawn was strewn a sad collection of junk for sale. With a hopeful sparkle in her eye, Mary had spoken of strawberry shortcake, pie, and other desserts. Possibly even strawberry 🍓 ice cream. There was not a berry to be seen. There might have been a few inside the church. Truthfully, though, we didn’t even stop the car to investigate, just did a U-turn and drove back to our hangout at Wormans Mill. I guess you can’t expect a Disneyland sized event in a town with 374 residents. 

    There was a U-pick-em strawberry field down the road, but I had no intention of lingering in Sabillasville which gave off a creepy vibe. It reminded me of this movie called Midsommar, which was truly horrible and caused me night terrors for months. It was about these two Americans who were invited to a Swedish Festival by a foreign exchange student. This special event in his home town of Hårga occurred once every ninety years. When they got there, the couple realized what it really was: an ancient pagan rite to ward off evil wherein the villagers sacrificed nine people to their corn god…or maybe it was some other vegetable deity. So guess who two of the chosen victims were?

    Whoever wrote this screenplay must have truly been demented, not because of the ritual murders which are hardly an original plot device. It was what was done to the corpses, which I won’t go into, that was so disturbing.Even rereading the Wikipedia plot summary caused me PTSD.  If you haven’t seen the movie…DON’T! Anyway that film and that village popped into my mind as we entered Sabillasville, lured to a festival in an isolated village by a fancy, misleading poster. I made that U-turn pretty quickly, tires squealing in my haste to flee. Thank God there are no human sacrifices performed in Wormans Mill!🩷

June 1, 2926

    Afree an almost three month hiatus, I am exercising again. Walking Lily doesn’t count, and those of you who’ve seen her usual mph pace understand why. I went on the gazelle as the treadmill’s days are over, his ship has sunk, his bucket has been kicked, and his appointment in Samara is on the calendar. The junk man is taking him away this afternoon. I feel sad…he has served me well for over two decades except for those years he was used only as a towel or drying rack. (I use the male pronoun because he has caused me much pain). However, he is an old clunker, a dinosaur of a fitness machine, weighing at least two hundred pounds. He’ll need to be dismantled (again) just to be taken out the front door. And he has been dis and re assembled so many times, I doubt he even works properly. 
    Today I reconfigured my internet, tv and mobile service, saving a lot of money, but then I went and spent a ton more —at least in theory—by meeting with the handyman. Now, in addition to the fence, new deck, washer/dryer and outside fixes, he is going to pull up both downstairs rugs, add flooring, redo the ceiling and drywall the unfinished part of the basement.  Or so he says. I am still waiting for the survey to get the permit to put up the fence that we discussed a month ago. Between the handyman and having the junk man haul some stuff away, I feel as though this day will have been well spent..(emphasis on SPENT). Moving is expensive!

June 3, 2026

    We got rid of a lot of junk yesterday, including “Mount Treadmill” from my living room. The couple, Leeland and Kalee, promised to come back Saturday for the rest. It seems wrong that I have to pay someone to haul away stuff the homeowner should have gotten rid of in the first place, but they have two toddlers, and he’s in the military (navy), serving our country, so it’s all for the good. Plus the kids were really cute: Daniel (4) and Leland, Jr (2). They both loved Lily although I can’t truly say the feeling was mutual. Daniel insisted I come to the truck to say good-bye. The popsicle I gave him must have made an impression. 

   My sister and I took Rosie the realtor to lunch in Mount Airy which is even more rural than Walksersville, and yet…and yet... It  has THREE ice cream establishments: Baskin-Robbins, Jimmie-Cone, and Brown Cow Creamery! We went to the last one with Charissa in the fall, and it was a good experience. At Mount Airy Inn I had Greek pizza which was no more Greek than I am Swedish. The olives weren’t even kalamata! And there was only one artichoke piece on the whole pizza. But the company was great, and that’s the most important thing..

   Today we are doing a meet and greet with a possible new pet sitter. Ava looks about 12 years old but has been dog sitting for three years and got rave ratings on W.A.G. She lives less than two miles away, right in Walkersville. I hope she and Lily hit it off although no one’s company, except mine, would satisfy my beagle girl.  If she could talk, Lily would be like that baby dino in the nineties show Dinosaurs who would hit people on the head with a frying pan, screaming, “Not the Mama, Not the Mama.”  I feel bad leaving her with someone she doesn’t know well, but the alternative, my imprisonment, is not sustainable. 

June 4, 2026

    Ava confused her work schedule, and is coming this morning instead. I hope this doesn’t indicate that she is flakey…Now that my gazelle is out of storage, I am trying to exercise every miring  and accomplish at least one thing in the house by noon. I set up a grass area on the deck for Lily by purchasing an extremely overpriced Doggy Lawn from Chewy. It is basically a rectangular piece of real sod except it’s three times the price. She sniffed it, disinterestedly, and laid on the ancient, splintering wood of the deck, making me cringe. I spent most of yesterday on the phone due to various ADT issues, and I’m thinking of getting rid of it. There is a senior couple to my right, and an elderly widow to my left, and neither have it. Dealing with ADT is so frustrating that at this point, I’d rather be robbed. 

    There is so much to address in this house to make it feel like a home, not a low budget hotel, that I feel overwhelmed and occasionally nauseated from panic, stress and the growing expense of it all. Adding to that, the handyman is so slow. He promised me an estimate by the end of Monday. I still haven’t gotten it. He was supposed to send over a plumber and a surveyor. Nothing. The post office is supposed to get back to me today to explain where my mail is and why it hasn’t been forwarded. My advice is, unless you have to move, DON’T! Everything is difficult. I never thought of myself as a stupid or inept person, but I’m beginning to reassess by abilities or lack of them. I guess there is a reason why at some point, as people age, they get townhouses. I will say that at least the lawn service showed up, so the backyard no longer looks like a sanctuary for moles. voles, and possums.  I’ll take comfort in the fact that at least one thing has been fixed.

June 5, 2026

    This is a bit of a sad day for me. It was two years ago that I lost Remy. I usually don’t commemorate days of loss. I prefer to celebrate birthdays, or in Remy’s case, Gotcha Day, as her birthday was unknown. Unfortunately, her Gotcha Day is tomorrow. So I can’t help remembering the sweetest, gentlest, most adorable beagle ever. She was the dog that was never meant to be. I already had two beagles, and they were definitely high maintenance. But when I saw her photo on Bernard’s Beagle Rescue, wrapped in an afghan with an open wound from back surgery, I knew she had always been mine. She just somehow had gotten misplaced in the universe for awhile.
    Grady and Lily were not as smitten with Remy as I was. Lily started plotting to kill her the day the poor rescue was deposited in my backyard by her foster dad. After several fights (instigated by Lily) and one incident where blood was shed (mine), my anxiety was off the charts, and I knew I needed professional help. Then came not one, but four dog trainers, one of whom was a psychotic, ex policeman who trained German Shepherds. But I was driven. All I knew was that Remy was mine. She was not going anywhere, and so I owed her a safe, peaceful, loving life— not one where she stayed camped out in the backyard to avoid her homicidal sister.  I knew Remy had not had a very kind first 3 or 6 or 8 years of her life—all age estimates by various vets. My goal was to give her as many good years as she had had bad ones.
   After about two or three months of panic and trauma on my part, when I should have been enjoying the carefree bliss of new retirement, a truce was achieved. Remy learned to avoid the couch, Lily’s domain, and stopped crouching down whenever I approached her. She even buried a toy in the backyard to claim for her own. She won Grady over with her sweetness; she won everyone over, human and canine…except maybe Lily. How I loved this dog! I would start every day having coffee and girl talk with her while her brother and sister slept in. I basked in her adoration and devotion. If a perfect creature like Remy loved me…I must be alright, mustn’t I?
   In the end, I failed to give the world’s sweetest beagle as many good years as she had had bad ones. According to Embark, she was eight when she came home to me. She died five years minus one day from that wonderful, perfect June 6, 2024 when she first blessed my life. The joy faded out of my days when Remy left us. I don’t believe I will ever again feel what I lost, and, sadly, what I never fully appreciated. It hurt me a little that Grady and Lily went on, without even seeming to notice her absence. She was like a blip in their radar. But I think it makes sense. Remy was my soul dog; we had a special bond that even my very much adored and pampered canines could perceive and respect. 

In honor of Remy, here is a song by Pearl Jam called “Just Breathe”. It is very beautiful, and you can listen to it HERE..  

Just Breathe.                            

Yes, I understand that every life must end,
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, 
Oh, I'm a lucky man to count on both hands the ones I love
Some folks just have one, yeah, others, they got none,

[Refrain]
Stay with me, oh, let's just breathe

[Verse 2]
Practiced are my sins, never gonna let me win, 
Under everythin', just another human bein',
Yeah, I don't wanna hurt
There's so much in this world to make me bleed

[Refrain]
Stay with me, you're all I see

[Chorus]
Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn't, I'm a fool, you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean

[Verse 3]
I wonder everyday, as I look upon your face,
Everything you gave and nothing you would take, 

[Refrain]
Nothing you would take, everything you gave

[Chorus]
Did I say that I need you?
Oh, did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn't, I'm a fool, you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean,

[Outro]
Nothin' you would take, everythin' you gave
Oh, hold me 'til I die, I’ll meet you on the other side

June 6, 2026

   I  learned something fascinating yesterday. I’ve always been intrigued by generational categories like Gen Z (1997-2010), Millennials (1981-1996),  etc. I even developed an English unit where students had to research all the monikers, create one for their own generation and give three detailed reasons why they chose it. I assumed they would be as interested in it as I was. They. Were. Not. I assume it was the reading and writing part that tuned them off.😂🤣
    Anyway, I was supposed to enter  the world in January of 1962, but came early at the tail end of 1961. I guess I couldn’t wait for the eating to begin! I never could relate to Baby Boomers (1946-1964).  Hippies, early rock n roll, civil rights protests, jello—all those 60’s things felt like ancient history to me. On the other hand, I always felt too unhip to be lumped with Gen X ( 1965-1980). The technology alone kept me distant. As does my using the word “hip”.
     Well, I came across an article by an anthropologist who argues that people born 1954-65 fall into an in-between or cusp category called Generation Jones. You can read about it HERE. Excuse the Wikipedia link, but it was the most thorough description I could find. This info rings true for me. Since many of you also were teens in the 1970’s I think you can appreciate this. I’m so glad I finally understand my true self and my correct place in the universe—NOT. 
   On a personal note, yesterday I resolved a technical TV issue, finally started receiving my way over-held mail, and secured a dog sitter. Ava is a college student (not 12) who moved to Walkersville in December. Lily seems to like her…as much as Lily likes anyone who is “Not the Mama”. They are going to do a trial sit on Monday morning while I run errands before the six hour bonding  during Amalia’s Christening on June 14th.🤞🏼🙏🏼🐶   Lily has not been informed.
   i  have been ghosted by the handyman, and I’m not sure how to handle it (note the clever pun). He has signed on to do all my inside and outside work, and I’d hate to start over, but getting him to begin or even to provide estimates is so excruciatingly ponderous. I’m going to call him Monday morning and give him one more chance, but I’m not optimistic. My nephew, Alex, has offered to paint my house. I wish it would start feeling like home, not an endless stint in a hotel.

June 7, 2026

     Great day yesterday as I got to see the cutest 4 year old and most adorable, tiny baby in the world! In honor of my sister’s birthday, we took them out for ice cream. Amalia is feather-light and so dainty. if her mother didn’t get the ice cream spoon in her mouth fast enough, she would cry. She must have my DNA! Theo got to play with his Uncle Demian while his parents and sister toured my house.

    Looking at it from a real estate point of view, this place is a hard sell: only one full bath, wooden kitchen counters, no garage, plus all the other improvements and fixes the handyman is supposed to address. I keep reminding myself how long it took me to make my New York house a quick sale—24 hours!. But I sure don’t want to wait another 25 years for this one to feel right. 

June 8, 2026

     Two things are making me anxious today. The first is the dog sitting. I’ll be running errands between 10-12 while Ava keeps Lily company. I’m hoping she will sleep through it (Lily, not Ava!). My TV and internet are so slow, and my iPad and iPhone are no longer in synch, so it’s another trip to Xfinity which is about the only WiFi providing service down here. I used to curse Spectrum, but I now I know I was blessed. I used to curse a lot of things. Now, I know better…

      The second stressor is calling my handyman, Mark Elias. No, he isn’t the pundit on MSNBC who sues all the states that are trying to limit voting rights. I wish he were. That Mark Elias gets results! No, he is a person who promises and never delivers. He came so highly recommended by Rosie the realtor, and maybe he does great work, but six weeks in, I haven’t gotten a single estimate, and no one he told me that he’d send over (plumber, surveyor) ever arrived. I hate to start from scratch with a new, untried person. I don’t trust online review because I’ve been burned by the . But this is getting ridiculous.

     I spent so much of my savings on this house and needed a mortgage to afford it—which I truly hate.  I’ll have to fork out more funds for repairs and to get it to become a place I want to live in. Right now, it feels like a low budget hotel that I’m not sure is very clean, where I don’t know how everything works and which lacks the comforts of home. How much more money do I have to bleed out to fix this, and will I recoup it if I ever want to move?

      I live in a state of low level panic every day that I made a huge, irreversible mistake.  If this were a residence I enjoyed living in, with a nice deck I could sit on, a fenced yard Lily could enjoy, and a lower level that didn’t make me cringe, maybe the trapped feeling would diminish. It’s not a bad life. I like the area; I see my family; Lily is still around. I have food and air conditioning, and live in a safe, friendly neighborhood. How dare I complain? Yet, I feel like I’m in a self imposed exile. Weirdly, I didn’t feel that way at my sister’s place. So it must be the house, right?      

UPDATE:

Lily did great but still yelled at me.  The handyman is vacationing on the eastern shore. 👹

June 9, 2026

.      Yesterday AM was pretty productive. Lily did well with Ava who arrived early and sent multiple pictures and texts over two hours. She only screamed at me a little when I returned. (Lily, not Ava). I feel much better about Sunday’s six hour christening and maybe even a little excited…an emotion I haven’t felt in months. I also fixed my iPad/iPhone non synching issue, or I should say I watched, slack-jawed, while Sam, the extra large, jovial Xfinity tech, fixed it. This, and completing several errands, far too mundane to mention, made for a fulfilling morning that culminated with the recycling of all my moving and packaging boxes. My kitchen had started to look like a cardboard jungle or an Amazon warehouse. The freed up space helps.

     The afternoon was less successful. I could not figure out my Sling TV issue and ended up cancelling the service after a frustrating two hour deep, demented dive into the world of AI customer service. I couldn’t even get to a real online chat person let alone speak to one on the phone. The only number I could find, after a fifteen minute search, had been disconnected! If an AI chatbot had a neck to ring, I would have done it. After every useless, non-responsive evil robot answer, I would type an expletive or insult as if that would hurt its feelings, or I’d make a  plea to speak with someone, anyone with a beating heart. Nothing. Finally with foaming-at-the-mouth exasperation,I decided I’d just listen free to my ONE channel on my iPad and save $50/month. 
   
    Then, there was the handyman. I tried to call him, thinking my disapproving tone might make a difference, only to hear that his voicemail was full. So I texted him again, informing him - duh - that his voicemail was full and mentioning that he had ghosted me last week. He did text back and promised to call that afternoon. Any guesses whether this occurred? Try. Really. Just try to guess. It would be less frustrating if he were an AI chatbot.  If I don’t hear from him today, he is fired. God, please give me the strength, the guts, and any other body parts necessary to accomplish this! It would be so satisfying. But then I would be faced with finding another or possibly multiple people to do all these disparate jobs, and who knows if they’d be any more responsive?

Lily, fantasizing about biting the handyman.

June 10, 2026

     Today is my sister's birthday. I will not reveal the number as she occasionally reads this blog and frequently prepares food for me. 😳☠️🤣I probably won’t see her as Charissa is hosting a special dinner in Boyds for the occasion, and although I was invited, Lily and Champ would not mix well. My sister is a very optimistic and uplifting person, so it’s kind of humorous, or maybe ironic, that some of her birthdays have been so awful.       

     It all started upon her adulthood. When she turned twenty-one, I volunteered to bake her a cake and cooked my mom’s signature date filling. My mother made it twice a year for both our birthdays, so it was a family tradition. Something must have been wrong with the dates because my sister, after sampling a few spoonfuls, got food poisoning and became so dehydrated from profuse, projectile vomiting that she ended up in the hospital on an IV. I seriously have no memory of this event, but she swears it’s true. Either I blocked it out, or she is exaggerating. If she takes issue with this last possibility, then at least I'll know she’s been reading my blog. 

     More recently her daughter has tried to infuse a little joy into her mom’s special day, and what better way than to have grandma share it with her beloved grandson? Theo is funny, charming and exceptionally bright. He is also a strong willed and occasionally petulant toddler. This bonding would have been an inspired idea except that he and my sister don’t exactly share the same idea of fun. My sister is into high tea and Victoriana; Theo is into hot dogs and dirt. And Theo has a shelf life of approximately 24 hours before melt down.

    A few years ago, Charissa wanted to celebrate at Hershey Park during a major heat wave. My heart leapt at the thought of all the  chocolate possibilities, so I was all IN!  But my poor sister, who can’t breathe at temps above 70 and was having hip trouble, limped and panted through the park, sweated buckets under the glaring son on the unshaded Boardwalk (swimming hole) and finally collapsed on a trolley at ZooAmerica. On a personally disgusted note, I will add that the attractions happened to be overrun that year with turkey vultures. There were apology signs all over with assurances that these were not exhibits who had escaped from their cages. I found the whole thing to be Alfred Hitchcock level creepy. 

    I don’t think my sister even noticed the invasion of huge, ugly, black birds as she was in so much pain. She has a large varicose vein from pregnancy, and I swear you could actually see it throbbing. At one point, while she visited the ladies room, I heard what sounded like a far off, injured wolf howl, and I wondered if it might be her wailing. Theo was actually quite well behaved but didn’t understand why yiayia’s face was “so red”.  When we returned to our Air BnB, I wrote the following poem about the experience called “Birthday Bootcamp”.  

BIRTHDAY Bootcamp

Trapped…

I’m stuck in birthday boot camp, 

Held in this happy hellscape,

A doomsday for the aging,

This so-called Hershey Park.

Chocolate…

Was the lure of the wicked—

Promises of ice cream joy,

Dreams of sugared decadence

The same color as shit.

Pain…

Triathlon of torment!  

Seeps down my suffering shoulders

Into ancient, aching hips,

And round, dwarf-length legs.

Sun…

Beats bullets on burnt skin,

Sucks moisture from blue veins.

Coke is twenty f*@king bucks?!

I am a dying prune.

Lines…

Children whine as parents bitch.

Zombie workers can’t count seats.

Hobbit feat are blistering.

As bunions torture me.

Flashes…

Of truth so bitter-sweet:

I need some shade and sneakers;

I want to slap my child;

A wheelchair would be nice.

Screams…

It’s possible they are mine.

Sounds strangle my parched throat.

A rasp, “But it’s MY birthday.”

Is swallowed by the din.

Paths…

Without end, twisting, turning.

“We’re so close”, “round that corner”, 

“A bench is just up ahead.” 

Lies from Satanic tongues.

At last…

Varicose veins bulge and throb.

Frantic heart pounds ping-pong beats,

Their damn car squeals to a halt.

I melt myself inside.

Happy birthday to me. 

      The following year, wishing to best the entertainment had by all at Hershey, Charissa booked a weekend at Great Wolf Lodge. (I feel compelled to add that both these disastrous experiences took place in the state of Pennsylvania which is obviously the gateway  to hell). if you’ve never been to this attraction. Don’t. Go. First of all, it’s on Scotrum Drive, and we couldn’t unhear the street name we mistakenly read it as, which, in my opinion, was far more appropriate. Anyway,  if you’ve never heard of the place, it’s an indoor water park. And it is absolutely the foulest, most putrid place on the east coast or possibly on the whole continental 48. 

     The temperature inside the lodge was sauna-set to 90 degrees, and for sanitation purposes, the water was loaded with so much chlorine and other chemicals (to counter whatever was trickling from all the babies in diapers standing in it?) that inhaling deeply made our lungs burn. Their adult caregivers were gross, neglectful and none too clean looking, as well. Not to body shame, but most of them were wearing far less clothing than people of their sizes and unique disfigurements had any right to…at least not in a public area filled with sighted people. I’d describe the man with brillo pad back hair and a torso of a million moles, but I like you all too much. Can’t. Unsee. It. 

    My sister is a major germophobe, and I already mentioned her aversion to temps over 70. I am worse. About cleanliness, not heat. To say she was enjoying herself is like saying Lily loves being bathed, having her ears cleared, her anal sacs expressed, and her nails cut all at the same vet visit. Besides avoiding the filthy water at all costs, I spent most of the time fearing I’d witness a head trauma tragedy as so many kids ran on slippery concrete around the pools and up the wet stairs to the water slides, unsupervised; meanwhile their insipid and recalcitrant parents sat and chowed down on overpriced junk food and alcohol. On cue, 24 hours in, Theo had a melt down. I don’t blame him. If screaming, weeping and demanding to go home were socially acceptable behaviors for someone my age, I would have joined him.

    The only decent thing inside Great Wolf Lodge was the free pair of wolf ears everybody got at the door. But my favorite part was finding our car in the parking lot and aiming it toward the exit sign. We found out later that one of the lodges—it’s a chain—was shut down because the swimmers got parasites and unidentifiable rashes. And even though Mary and I never intentionally let any of the incessant splashes or slimy, wet surfaces touch our skin, we spent the next few weeks worrying that we were going to come down with Ebola or leprosy.  While we were waiting for doomsday, I wrote this birthday poem for my sister. It’s called “Birthday Tsunami”.

Birthday Tsunami

Waves~

Of downstate drivers

Speed and stampede northward in 

Desperate flight from smog and sewage,

Destined to be robbed of cash in

The grifting halls of Great Wolf Lodge.

Waves~ 

Of unwashed bodies:

Teeming parades of screaming kids,

Led by unfortunate, swine-shaped parents, 

Exposing doughy lumps of flesh 

That should never see the light of day!

Waves~

Of foul, fetid fumes,

A toxic sauna, noxic and thick, 

Siphons oxygen from the air. 

Chlorine overload tries to mask

The sour stench of sludge—in vain!

Waves~

Of nightmare visions:

Male, neanderthal, exposing all;

Beer bellies that sag to the knees;

A million moles on just one torso?

Brillo pad fur on paste white skin.

Waves~ 

Of fecal juices,

Infectious stew, a slew of waste—

C-Diff, E.coli, Giardia— 

Washes over the wading ones,

Who bathe in a Petrie dish of germs.

Waves~ 

Off a reeking buffet…?… 

Can’t tell by smell what in hell is there,

But hoggish humans plow ahead.

Plates pile high with so called “food” 

Fat and starch disguised as dinner. 

Waves~

Of guilty laughter:

We can’t unsee this atrocity

Of sloth and gluttony and greed.

The seven deadly sins, it seems, are

Alive and well at Great Wolf Lodge!

   So I guess after these last two birthday experiences, Charissa just cooking a nice dinner at home for her mom will be an innocent and welcome improvement over the past few years. What could possibly go wrong? 

June 11, 2026

    Finally, there is movement on the home renovation front! When the handyman NEVER called me on Monday afternoon as he promised (how many of you won that bet?), I texted Tuesday and asked him if he still wanted to do the work? That seemed to motivate and mobilize him. Less than 24 hours later, he arrived with the plumber. We now have a plan for my washer/dryer situation. Situation as in nonexistent. He also sent estimates for the outdoor work including the fence and garage. They seemed reasonable. AND the surveyor is coming this weekend. I need the survey to get a permit which could take (ugh!) 2-6 weeks.
    I feel better about the house, or as good  as a person can feel who left a pristine, perfect home, renovated to her liking, only to spend $150,000 more to purchase a living space too large for her needs, take on a huge mortgage to pay for more house than she needs or wants, and STILL will have to shell out another $50,000 to make it doable. My friend, JoAnn, is in the area—her brother lives in Virginia—and is going to stop in today. I am so excited to see someone from home! I’m hoping to take her and my sister out for dinner (Wormans Mill, of course) so the two “traveling grannies” who spend half their lives grandchild tending, can talk babies. 
     I’m still swaying between hope and despair here, but I have developed a routine which brings the former teacher in me, driven by a bell schedule, comfort. I rise at 5:30am, drug myself up with caffeine, hit the gazelle by 7am, shower and get Lily out for her am walk by 9. I try to do one thing to improve my surroundings every morning, so I can  relax in the afternoon, guilt-free. Yesterday it was removing the adhesive the owner left all over the wooden stairs. It wasn’t easy, and I’m still not done. I don’t know what crap they used to affix the filthy rug mats that I discarded, but even GooGone and WD 40 don't work. They didn’t take care of this house! 

Enjoying Yiayia Mary’s birthday (click for video).

June 12, 2026

    Today I am skipping the gazelle and sitting here with a second cup of coffee, feeling guilty about it. (the missed exercise, not the extra caffeine). Yesterday I weeded in the steamy heat. It was so strenuous that I took a second shower. Some of those weeds were taller than me. I guess the homeowner hadn’t gardened in while. Not sure why. It certainly wasn’t  because she spent all her time indoors, cleaning! Maybe that extra effort makes up for being lazy today.  I also successfully cleaned the gunk off the stairs.
      My friend, JoAnn, visited. We started teaching together at Wellwood back in 1995. It was so nice to see a friend from home! Mary had dinner with us, and they talked grandkids. Both have baby granddaughters. JoAnn is on the road back to Cazenovia, where I hope it isn’t as hot as it is here. I know, I know—during CNY’s horrible and endless winter, I longed for summer sunshine, but this is that season with a vengeance. Lily gets her shot today; I will order my appliances at Lowe’s. Not much else to report. 

June 14, 2026

     Today is the BIG DAY! Amalia will be christened at 1:00pm at Saints Constantine and Helen Greek Orthodox Church. My sister and I made Oreo bites yesterday, so our role in the event is over. I also saw my old friend, (NOT) Adam, the hapless realtor. He had to stop by to pick the former owner’s mail as it has suddenly started coming to my house again. Since she is in a contentious divorce, I refuse to be responsible for any formal correspondence she gets. It’s bad enough that I had to pay to remove the junk she left behind.

    I think even Adam is disgusted with her. He said the kindest description of her that he can offer is that she’s a If You Give a Mouse a Cookie type of person. I have never read that children’s book, but I did have one of my eight graders attempt to use it for a book report—I did not allow it. I told her to do it over or get a 50%. Or, in other words, I did not give that 13 year old mouse, her first cookie, lest she wants more and more favorable treatment. If you don’t know the plot—Google it. It fits my experience of the previous occupant perfectly. Adam says he will “fix this”. Poor, clueless guy.

I will be back later to give an update on our baby’s day of glory with pictures and maybe even a video or two.

UPDATE

    Amalia’s christening was very nice in an over-the-top-cuz-she’s-just-a-baby kind of way.  She was an angel during the ceremony and only cried a few times when dipped in the  baptismal vat. You probably would, have, too! The whole thing was in Greek, so I couldn’t tell you what the priest said. Her dress was super poufy…like something out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and she was wearing pearl covered booties. She also had an initialed hair brush (but, alas, no hair), that she teethed on and refused to let go of. But she looked so cute, and Theo was adorable in his suit. He even agreed to wear a tie but only after being bribed with a whole chocolate bar. There was a balloon arch, table centerpieces, and a dessert table which I took a video of. True confessions…I filmed the sweets, but not the baby. The video of her was done by my sister. Below are some pics. My favorite is Amalia, eating salmon!  The pretty young woman holding her in the last pic is her godmother, Alexandra.

June 15, 2026

    Today is my national holiday because it is Steve Walsh’s birthday. You might remember him from my April 28th blog.  He is my favorite singer from the band Kansas (voice of “Dust in the Wind”), and he sweated on me on November 2, 1983 at the Lost Horizon in Syracuse, NY. Not that it was a memorable event or anything…haha! 🤪 He turns 75 today! I have been a fan for 50 years which is hard to believe. I came across a current photo of two of his other original bandmates, and they looked so horrifyingly ancient that I decided I do not want to see how Steve has aged. I prefer to think of him as eternally young, handsome, shirtless, and talented with the angelic voice that was the melody of my youth. Happy birthday, Steve. Thanks for enhancing my life with your music.

June 16, 2026

   I got a lot accomplished yesterday. I assembled two small tables and a cabinet. Back home at a garage sale I had bought this huge wall clock that I am trying to turn into a table. We shall see if I’m successful. Lowes delivered my new stove and washer/dryer, and I actually got an unsolicited phone call from the handyman! I was so dumbstruck that I didn’t even enjoy eating my ice cream while I was talking to him...just spooned it brainlessly into my shocked, slack jaw. It was a definite waste of about 300 calories.

     Mark sent me the estimate for my washer/dryer hookup. It wasn’t too bad. The former owner did laundry in the dank dungeon of a basement. Fortunately, she took her huge “airplane console” type appliances away with her. Ugh! I do not want to spend even a minute of my day down there—I do not like basements. They always smell musty, and attract spiders and cobwebs.  I envy my sister who does not have one to deal with. So I am moving my laundry area up to the lower level of the house. 

    We removed the hideous wood burning stove—or I should say Leeland and his wife, Kalee, did. I’m also ripping out the disgusting, ancient carpets down there and installing flooring. Who would put rugs in a lower level, prone to dampness? I am hoping all these renovations will yield a livable space or at least a space I want to live in occasionally. There is a very cool glass fireplace type thing down there. It is modern, not my style, but still interesting, and I do like it. That and the nice half bathroom are the only things I do like right now, but the space will get better. 

June 17, 2026

     Mark, the handyman, said that the inside work on my house could begin next week. I’ll believe it when the workers arrive at my door. Today I am going to try to buff the kitchen counters which are wood. When I renovated my kitchen in NY, I thought about wood counters. I really like the look, but rejected them because they are hard to maintain. Well, here is my chance. I realize I haven’t used a stove since last February when I cleaned mine for house showings and didn’t want to dirty it again. Not baking has helped me lose a few pounds. I now have a brand new stove, all ready for me, but I just don’t feel like using it.

    I’ve been listening to Kansas in honor of Steve Walsh’s birthday, and I remember how everyday from age 14 on, I’d come home from school and listen to Kansas’s “The Wall” which happens to be Steve’s favorite song to sing. He says everyone can relate to its message. You can listen to it and his golden voice HERE.

    Anyway, if I had had a bad day at school, I’d play it twice.  (If I had had a REALLY bad day, I’d play “Lonely Wind” from their debut album. And there might have been some rocking, I confess. But I’ll save that one for another post.) Sadly, although meds and therapy have helped, I still listen to that song and realize that my wall is still standing pretty tall. That edifice is built of brick upon brick of fear and anxiety. When you’re afraid of everything, you take no risks and try to control everything in your environment—an impossible task. But you try anyway.  You narrow your life choices, so that you end up living an existence the size of the head of a pin . Maybe this move has widened that life. Maybe it’s now the size of the head of a tack? I have to keep chipping away at that wall.  

June 17, 2026

How to drive a car legally in Maryland: it’s NOT pretty.

    So it came to my attention that my car was due for a NYS inspection at the end of this month. Not only that, but I have 60 days from the date I began to reside in Maryland to transfer my car lest I drive Illegally on their roads. Begrudgingly, I figured I’d take the plunge, do the thing I’d been dreading, and apply for a MD license.  I’d been avoiding the task because, as everyone knows, DMV is a synonym for head-beating-against-the-wall frustration. Would it be the same at Maryland’s MVA? Turns out it is worse.
    First, I went to the MVA site to do a pre-application, so I could make an appointment to transfer my NY license. I needed to upload two pieces of “official mail” to prove I was a Maryland resident. Both of my pieces were rejected, including mail from the US Postal Service! I called the “You’re a Reject. Find out  Why” phone number on the thumbs down email, and after a thirty minute wait and two agents, the first of whom barely spoke English, I was told she did not know why. But I was able to make an appointment for someone at the MVA to review/reject all my mail.
    Then she told me I also had to transfer my registration and car title to Maryland. Makes sense. So it was back on the MVA site to fill out a pre-application to make another appointment. It was then that I realized I had no idea where my auto insurance cards or policy were…most likely in a bankers box labelled “Christmas “ or “family pictures”. So for a half hour I was on the phone with someone at Farmers Insurance who agreed to send me new cards. I made a second appointment at the MVA, this time for my registration/title. You can’t do this transfer and the license transfer in the same appointment for some reason. 
    So then, my sister, who had been through all this six months before, (with insufficient sympathy from me, I now realize), told me my hours on the phone were all for nothing as I needed Maryland car insurance, not New York. Also I needed a Maryland car inspection BEFORE I went to the DMV…excuse me…the MVA…or they wouldn’t register my car. I cancelled my two MVA appointments.        
   Next I called Brownie, the car guy my sister goes to, and he was cranky. With more than was called for orneriness, he communicated that the only appointment day open was next Tuesday, not Monday, when my sister would be home to drive me, but Tuesday, when I had no one. He also said that I could not wait for the car. They only had one small bench—I do not know how large Brownie assumed I was—so I had to drop my vehicle off and leave, and that it either took the whole morning or the whole afternoon. Pick. One.  Well, I needed an updated inspection before July 1, and I would be in NY June 26-29. I was stuck.  
    Tuesday happened to be the day I had carefully prearranged a dog sitter, so I could  spend time with my baby great niece. Now, instead of bonding with Amalia, I will be wandering aimlessly around “downtown” Walkersville for hours during my car inspection while Ava dog sits Lily.  Only then can I make two new appointments at the MVA, so I can beg them to accept my mail and transfer all my New York docs, so I can drive my car legally in Maryland. 

June 19, 2026

    Yesterday I watched the movie Hanmet. It was better than the book which I did not like at all. I actually hated it which was shocking to me.  I was so eager to read it as I usually love anything about  Shakespeare, and the NYT gave the novel high marks. Everybody seemed to love it, and it won a bunch of awards.
    The novel was historical fiction with a heavy emphasis on FICTION. Maggie O’Farrell added all this made up crap about Anne Hathaway being a cunning woman and a psychic. Hamnet, her son, somehow supernaturally traded his life for his twin sister’s due to the plague although no one knows how the child really died, and there was no epidemic in Stratford at the time. Plus, everyone in the family touched these pestilent kids, but no one else got sick? Give me a break.
    The truth is that Anne’s family was wealthy, Shakespeare was eight years younger, poor, and wished to abandon the family trade (glove making) for an unstable career as a playwright. Plus,  he got her pregnant. So you fill in the historical blanks. I realize reality isn’t as romantic as the book’s version of events, but her overfluffing up of the facts was a bit much for me.
    The film cast the supposedly eighteen year old Shakespeare with an actor who was 30 but looked about 40. Besides that, it at least toned down most, but not all, of the made up details. The acting was good, and the sets/clothing were mostly correct—though Anne would not have been allowed to wear red back then due to the sumptuary laws. Although it would not be hard for me to like the film better, since the book made me gag, I do think it is worth watching. 

     Lily and I will have to make our own fun today as my sister is doing an overnighter with the grandkids. Maybe we will go to Bruster’s for a pup cup and ice cream. Or we’ll go hang out at Wormans Mill and pretend we live there. I have a painting project I’ve been meaning to try, a few books to read, and I haven’t stitched since I got here. I actually lost the two pilot pieces I was working on during my move from a half mile down the street. I will let you all know if I find them, or if we manage to do anything exciting. 

June 20, 2026

    Another lifetime ago in a magical kingdom called Wellwood Middle School, I did this cool unit where the kids described places using sensory details. I would always start it on Halloween, play haunted house music, have them listen and write down the details (close your eyes and listen. What can you see, hear, feel, smell, taste?) Then they would pick and sketch with words a setting of their own. It was a great activity to help them practice descriptive tools, too, like similes, metaphors, alliteration, etc. I got some stellar pieces of writing from the kids during this activity.
    To model great examples for them, I always used the articles from Victoria Magazine. The last page of each issue features a guest author. The piece always shows exactly what I was hoping to elicit from my students. I’d have the kids listen as I read an article and then jot down the sensory details. Sometimes they would read the articles themselves and underline their favorite details. 
   I was reading Victoria yesterday and came across an excellent example that I would have used. The setting is a storm. I’ve highlighted some of my favorite parts. I love the language and how the writer extrapolates from the setting some truth about  life. This is how I coached my kids to end their pieces. My best writers could do it successfully. I am sharing this piece because I think it is beautiful and appropriate for tomorrow’s celebration of parenthood (Fathers’ Day).  In doing so, I am probably violating several copyright laws. Please don’t report me. 

June 21, 2026

   Today is Fathers’ Day which I have not celebrated since 1995 when my dad died. He passed from this world on Pearl Harbor Day, December 7, which is coincidental because I always associated him with WWII even though his army days were ancient history. I still keep his jacket and hat in my closet. Also serendipitous is that my best friend’s father died the same day twenty years later. He was a lot like my dad—funny, kind, wise. Sharon and I were both so lucky. 
   There is so much I could say about my dad. I think of him all the time and of the advice he gave which seemed useless or corny at the time, but has finally sunk in: “Don’t ever drive when you’re upset, and aways crawl in parking lots”; “your health is your most precious gift. You can’t buy it in a store”; “In this house, we value people more than things”; “99% of the things you worry about never happen”; “Wherever you go, you take Laurie with you”. I can hear his voice in my head as if 31 years had never passed. 
     During a writing class I took a few years ago, the teacher had.us compose a letter to our fathers. It was an activity fraught with difficulties and conflicting emotions for many members of the class, There were regrets, longings, things unsaid and undone, mistakes made, painful memories. I had none  of these—only gratitude. And maybe the desire for more time, 33 years wasn’t enough. I am sharing my letter. Happy Father’s Day, daddy. You were the BEST!

Dear Dad, 

   I’m supposed to write a letter to you on Father’s Day which is dumb because you already know how wonderful I think you are and that I consider you the BEST dad ever! Not because,you were the richest, the coolest or the most fun, but because you noticed me.  You spent time with me and knew who I was. You weren’t always trying to change me into a different version of a daughter or point out that I was nothing like my big sister.  

     Dad, technically I am the teacher while you did some vague work in a lab at Griffiss Air Force Base that didn’t sound too interesting to me.  But in reality, you were the far better teacher.   Often, the advice you gave me I either ignored or scoffed at at the time. Sadly, it was only  after you were gone, when I had experienced life a little more, that I realized how truly wise you were.  

      Besides all the truths that may not have kicked in immediately, you taught me  lessons that gave me immediate joy: how to be kind, especially to animals, how to have fun, by introducing me to chess, checkers and ping pong, how to be patient with and understanding of those who vexed me like mom and some of my classmates; how to be curious about my heritage by all the stories you shared of your childhood in Rome, New York   And you taught me to love learning and pursue it  for knowledge’s sake, not just for the grade.

       But maybe the biggest gift you gave me, and the one I never thanked you for, was your recollections of World War II, especially your experience at Buchenwald and Dachau concentration camps after their liberation. Your memories of the Holocaust both haunted and fascinated me.  They sent me on a journey to discover all I could about these events.  I incorporated that knowledge into my own classroom, always doing a unit that began by bringing in a picture of you in your captain’s uniform.  All the lessons that tragedy taught you—about compassion, kindness, empathy, helping the fragile and suffering, speaking out for those less fortunate—were passed on to me, and hope that I, in turn, passed them along to my students.  

     Ultimately, my intense focus—some might say obsession—with the Holocaust, may have saved my life.  In 1996, I narrowly missed being on the doomed flight TWA 800 in order to stay an extra day at a Holocaust Conference, so I could hear yet another survivor story.  I got in a fight with my then boyfriend about missing our first day in France, but I boarded the plane at Logan, not JFK.  And I did not sink below the waters of the Atlantic like the passengers on that plane. You gave me more time. 

     You always gave me your time…whether you were just watching Wild Kingdom or Superman with me, chatting in the car while you chauffeured me to piano lessons or counseling me while I fretted over school.  You were so present for me whenever I needed you. How I wish I had had more time with you!   You left us when I was 33.  I was in my self-absorbed stage, focusing on my job, social life and making a home apart from you.  I wish I had known our hours were limited, and then I’d have asked you more about the war, your family, and your own life instead of worrying about my own.  

     Finally, I wish you had met the beagles—Hershey and Meggie—who are long passed—and Grady, Lily and Remy.  You were so sweet, gentle and giving, that I think you would have loved seeing me finally get the chance to be as well, with my dogs. I think you would have been happy that the pet I always begged for as a child—the constant but always short lived hunger strikes I went on and the really bad poetry I wrote to guilt you to get me one—finally resulted in success.  You’d be happy to know that I no longer have to name and befriend the neighborhood squirrels for my pet fix.  

     Ironically, it was that near miss of a plane crash that pushed me to finally become a dog mom to Hershey, so, in a way, Dad, you put that great joy into motion for me as well.  He was my soul dog, and you nourished my soul. Most of what is good and grateful in me is because of your love and guidance. And while I am not as religious as I’d like to be, I think I got to see a glimmer of what God, the father, must be like because I saw His reflection in you.

Sune 22, 2026

It’s Pearl Jam Monday, and this song goes out to the hypocritical maniac who was weaving in and out of traffic at 90 mph on Monocacy Blvd, endangering all the sane, law abiding  motorists whilst sporting a bumper sticker that said, “Do you follow Jesus this closely?” He ended up stopped at a super long red light right in front of me.  Haha!🤣👏🏼

Do the Evolution Listen HERE                             
Not the prettiest tune, but the music fits the lyrics which, according to Eddie Vedder are about, “someone who's drunk with technology and thinks he’s controlling the living beings on this planet.”

I'm ahead, I'm a man

I'm the first mammal to wear pants, yeah

I'm at peace with my lust

I can kill 'cause in God I trust, yeah

It's evolution, baby

I'm at peace, I'm the man

Buying stocks on the day of the crash

On the loose, I'm a truck

All the rolling hills, I'll flatten 'em out, yeah

It's herd behavior, uh huh

It's evolution, baby

Admire me, admire my home

Admire my son, he's my clone

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

This land is mine, this land is free

I'll do what I want but irresponsibly

It's evolution, baby

I'm a thief, I'm a liar

There's my church, I sing in the choir:

(hallelujah, hallelujah)

Admire me, admire my home

Admire my son, admire my clones

'Cause we know, appetite for a nightly feast

Those ignorant Indians got nothin' on me

Nothin', why?

Because... it's evolution, baby!

I am ahead, I am advanced

I am the first mammal to make plans, yeah

I crawled the earth, but now I'm higher

[2026], watch it go to fire

It's evolution, baby

Do the evolution

June  24, 2026

    It is my half birthday today. I think I deserve ice cream. Yesterday was very busy and not especially fun, but I accomplished a lot. I got my car inspected, so I can be tortured properly at the Maryland DMV this Thursday and get my state license, registration and plates. I also got a new doctor, actually an NP, lined up an optometrist and put together another cabinet that you supposedly needed two people to assemble. I was driven to succeed and prove the directions wrong. Alex is coming today to put together a day bed and hang the aforementioned cabinet. 

    One of the most difficult things about leaving NY was giving up great medical services. I’ve already spoken about the world’s finest vet and vet clinic in my March 24th blog and have lamented the loss of my wonderful therapist.  I loved and trusted my doctor in New York who called me twice when I had covid and several times when I needed a colonoscopy (due to a false Cologuard positive). We always shared book titles as she and her kids are avid readers. I had gone to my optometrist for over 25 years. He has dachshunds, and we always chatted about our dogs. I was lucky to find such gifted professionals who were also kind and interesting people. 

     I’m not going to lie. Yesterday was a miserable weather day, and while I was walking down Woodsboro Pike in the unseasonal, chilly rain and wind (Brownie’s auto didn’t even have a bench for me to sit on while they inspected my car), I got a little depressed, thinking about what I gave up by leaving NY. I wished I could go into The Midnight Library and see how this new life, my old one, and any other choices I might have made would have play out, so I could choose the one I like the best. 

    If you haven’t read this book by Matt Haig, you must! It is marketed as YA, but its theme transcends age. Everyone in my book club, a few of whom were in their seventies and eighties, loved it. It’s about a young, depressed adult. Faced with a seemingly bleak future, she takes a bottle of pills and while dying, is sent to this magical expository of books. The library contains all the possible lives she may have led by altering even small decisions. Using the main book, The Book of Regrets, she is allowed to experience all those different paths, and can replace her current one with any of them. The novel is based on a science known as string theory which is WAY too complex for this English major to explain. You can read about it HERE 

    My mother always said, “Be a glad I did instead of a wish I had.” She spoke from experience. Her big regret was dropping out of college because she was the first in her family to go and got homesick. She always added, “If I could bite this elbow, I would”. I never understood how that painful self maiming connected… I believe it was a metaphor. I found The Midnight Library so thought provoking. So did my therapist. She asked me to make a list of regrets, of lives I would have liked to try out, or decisions I wish I had and had not made. Because I ended up moving to Maryland earlier than I expected, we never got to discuss it, but I did think about it. 

    Surprisingly, I don’t regret the missteps. Those three years of law school I never used—they made me tougher, provided a lot of happy times, and I suspect the JD on my resume got me several of my teaching jobs. There are a few loser boy friends I wish I had bypassed. Back when Oprah Winfrey had her talk show, she had theme weeks; one of them featured different bad relationship choices. My sister joked that I could have been a guest every day that week: the serial polygamist, the pathological liar (same guy), the gay guy not yet out of the closet, the married but lying about it guy, the “I just want my green card” guy, the guy fresh out of an institution and still on lithium. At some point you just say, “enough” and decide to travel solo. It’s certainly less scary.

    Because my anxiety had made me so risk averse, most of my regrets were for so many things I held myself back from. Mainly I wish I’d been less serious, had more fun, and took more chances. Instead, fear made me recoil from what could have been joyful experiences, and I spent too many days feeling cheated by the universe for what I lacked instead of being grateful for all I had. I created a small life, one that fit on the head of a pin, to keep my stress at an endurable level.  And all those missed opportunities I do mourn. So I gotta think this move was an expansion of my pin-world and, therefore, will eventually be a good thing, right? 

June 25, 2026

       I’m being ignored by the handyman again, No answer to my Monday text and still no appearance by the surveyor. Same with the junk hauler who keeps asking me for work yet doesn’t respond when I ask about him doing a job. And my nephew finally got employed—which is good news—but he tells me it means he can’t paint my house, so I’ve got to find someone for that, too. This place is no closer to being finished than it was a month ago when I moved in. It is very frustrating. 

     Today is my big afternoon at the DMV, or MVA as they call it in MD. I hope the different name means a different experience because the NY DMV is notoriously horrible. I am bringing them every piece of mail I’ve gotten at this address, hoping that two of them will convince the agency that I do live here. Why else would I—or anyone—go through all this just to get a Maryland drivers’ license? Tomorrow we leave for NY.  I must clean the dog hair from my car, so Lily can produce more on our way north.

June 26, 2026

    Today Lily and I are off on a mini adventure with my sister: a road trip to New York. I am excited to see everyone but also feel sad as it will be hard to leave Fayetteville all over again—especially now that I know the life that is waiting for me back in Maryland.  Maybe I should have waited until I was  happy here to visit my old home? At this point, the best emotion I can conjure is resignation which doesn’t feel very good. It’s so damn hot here, and I keep bleeding money!
    Lily barely ate anything yesterday which worries me. I wonder if she can sense my moods, and they affect her? I have been depressed all week despite using every tool I have been taught to pull myself out of the darkness. Because of her age, whenever she has a bad day, I worry that it’s the end of the road for her. I’m so stressed about how she will handle this trip that it’s muting any happiness I might feel about it. That is not a helpful attitude.
    If/when I lose Lily, what will I have left? I realize that she would still be declining in NY. But at least then I’d have Frank. At least I’d have my therapist to help me handle it. At least I’d have my dog pack who love her, to support me like they did when I lost Remy and Grady. I do like being so close to my sister and seeing the kids, although I haven’t spent much time with them. I realize that how I pass my days here is not so different from how I would be spending them in NY.
    Maybe that is the problem. Maybe my dad was right about me. Wherever I go, I take Laurie with me. Maybe I’m just a sour, rapidly aging, negative person, and that is the real problem, not Lily, not Maryland, not the handyman, the house, the heat or the bugs. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I can never be happy anywhere. But I think I was happy, and I didn’t know it, and I blew it all up. Wish us safe travels…

June 27, 2026

    Our first day in NY went very well. Lily ate with enthusiasm and adjusted easily to a new environment. We stopped at my cousin MaryAnn’s house for dinner. She is actually my mom’s cousin, and I think she may have come to think of me sort of as a daughter since she is estranged from her own. I reunited with her two cats and her dog, Billy.  It was so nice of her to make a meal for us after we had been in the road for hours.

    My therapist visited me at the Craftsman. It was great to catch up. I know she really cares about me and would still be working with me if she could. I send her a card each month to briefly update her.  And I gave her a piece of stitching that was the most challenging one I have ever done. It is "Desert Strands", Russian drawnwork by Becky Autry.  I felt she deserved it after putting up with me for five years. I hope she likes it.
  
      Today will be busy: walking with the neighbors at 9, brunch with my aunts and cousins at 11, ice cream with the “dog pack” at 2 and early dinner with my retired teacher friends. Lily will sleep well tonight. So far, I am not feeling nostalgic for Fayetteville as a place although It is a pretty village.  I do miss my therapist, but maybe we took that as far as we could. Toward the end, she mostly offered me reassurance. Maybe I need to start reassuring myself. 

June 28, 2026

    Wow! Yesterday was a tornado of activity.  Over these three days in New York I have seen or will see (almost) everyone—human and canine —who I had hoped to. (One cousin is in NJ for the birth of a grandchild.) I also avoided an encounter with the buyer of my home who I heard wanted to meet me. I’ve had so much trouble with my own seller in Maryland, and that annoyance, which is still ongoing, makes me very wary of these types of meetings which could be fraught with discontentment. 
    I was very touched that so many people made time in their busy weekends to see Lily and me. I still can't believe my therapist made time to hang out with me on the porch of the Craftsman. Lily is doing well, but is obviously exhausted from all the moving around and extreme lack of napping opportunities. She has been eating and seems happy to see old friends. And…Zems! All my special neighbors gathered there for ice cream, an event I had been dreaming about since my first “cow to cone” experience in Maryland.                                 
    I deliberately avoided my old house and did not even glance at it when I picked up my lawn mower from the next door neighbors. The loss of my home is too raw. Maybe when/if the handyman finally returns my texts, and my new house looks like I want it to, when I have a lower level I want to step in, a deck I want to step out on and a fence that doesn’t look like a post-shootout at the OK corral, maybe then, possibly in September, I will be able to view the old one and not feel a little heartsick. 

June 29, 2026

    We are back home. Lily jumped right out of the car and up the front steps before I got there. She ate and drank furiously and has been sleeping for 8 hours. I have to compliment her and berate myself. She did much better than I feared and was a bit of a rock star. Everyone at the Craftsman was charmed by her. Each time we walked through the lobby, guests would point, "ooh" and "ahh" as if some celebrity were passing by. There were some cute kids, adorable babies and other dogs there, but they were all ignored in favor of Lily. 
     Although I loved seeing everyone, I was surprised at how NOT depressed or reluctant I was to drive home. I even felt a little excited or maybe relieved as we entered Maryland (leaving the construction nightmare of PA in the dirt) and approached Walkersville. I am going to call Mark today and be tough about a start date for my work. We have a heat wave approaching, (over 100 degrees!) so it will be perfect weather to work inside. I have wood to buff, a bench to distress, a table to grout, and stitching to catch up on. 
     It’s Musical Monday, and in honor of our last road trip, here is “Wheels” by Kansas. It’s one of my favorites of theirs, possibly even supplanting “The Wall” my theme song. I’m older now, and so was Kerry Livgren when he wrote it in 1992. Steve was 40 then, and the once perfect tone and timber of his voice had been compromised by excessive smoking, whiskey and cocaine use, but he still sounds pretty good to me. The lyrics reflect exactly how I feel these days, a little wistful about the past, but still pressing in toward a hopeful future. You can listen to it HERE

Wheels
by Kerry Livgren

See the words appear on the wall
There for every man who's standing tall
This water's pure, the well is so deep
The only treasure that a man can keep

Miles to go, and I feel the weight
Of these chains that I create
As I climb to the top of the hill
It draws me still
And I can't look back

The heart keeps on burning
Oh, wheels, wheels, don't slow down
My soul keeps on yearning
Oh, wheels, wheels, roll me homeward bound

I'm looking through the eyes of a child
Like the innocent and unbeguiled
From the east, and far to the west
Soldiers conquer in a royal quest

One by one, as the seasons change
I press on in a world so strange
As I climb to the top of the hill
It draws me still
And I won't look back

The heart keeps on burning

Oh, wheels, wheels, don't slow down
My soul keeps on yearning
Oh, wheels, wheels, roll me homeward bound

We are marching in time
To the reason and rhyme
As the glory of youth starts to fade
There's no burden to bear
For a debt that is already paid

The heart keeps on burning
Oh, wheels, wheels, don't slow down
My soul keeps on yearning
Oh, wheels, wheels, roll me homeward bound