Dinner guests last night, after which I ambled down the road to neighbor Rick, who was having people round he wanted me to meet, contacts for when I put the house on the market. One's a second home owner up here, main home in Greenwich ($$$), she's a realtor there, going to set me up with her high end contacts here, told me exactly how to market the place, how to vet realtors, how long to sign for an so on. We'll meet up next weekend I think. Also had nice chats with Arlo Guthrie's 3 daughters, also neighbors, and who lost their ma to cancer 2 years ago at the age of 67. We sat around Rick's fire pit yakking, laughing, and shedding a few tears, looking at meteor showers, listening to the coyotes howling--with some of us really really looking forward to the (brisk) walk home alone up along the dark road then through the even darker forest, eyes forward, trying not to look like coyote or bear meat. Or thinking about the axe murderers in the garage waiting for me to go past. Laurie and Ken, my Magic Helpers, had stayed home making lists and carrying stuff down from the attic (I DID invite them, honest) and were fortunately still up when I banged through the front door at 90 miles an hour, I think startling them.
Today we had another fruitful outing, this time to Pittsfield and Dalton, dropping off more Goodwill stuff, then hitting Home Goods, where we found the perfect boxes for both Peg's and Odd's ashes, plus a larger metal chest that both boxes fit in. Which will also fit in a carry-on bag when I take it to Minnesota next month. Peg's box is a glitzy leopard pattern glass jewel box, Odd's is wood and Norsk colors. Laurie and I will do Norwegian rose painting on it. If it all wasn't to hold my dead parents I'd be really excited, they're so perfect. We got home to find the small egg-cup size funeral urn had arrived from Peg's fan Tom in Seattle, in which I am supposed to put some of Peg's ashes and then post back to him, the idea being that it will sit pride of place on their mantle and then eventually will be buried with Tom, and his wife Donna, who are "co-mingling" their ashes. This is all so bizarre I can't even think about it, but it's what Peg wanted, and indeed wrote as much on a note tacked to her will-- tacked being the key word here, so I am not compelled by law to do this, but--oh Christ, probably will.
A decision which pleases me has been made by Ken, in Gardener Mode, to put all the pachysandra we're (he's) digging up--in all the window boxes and then see what happens. The hope is that it'll all take immediately with no new good soil and never require watering or weeding and stay alive in minus 40 degree snowstorms.
Laurie has meanwhile busied herself tagging, colour-coding with post-its, everything in the attic as to where it needs to go. 12 people arrive tomorrow, fro Dumpster Day, to get stuck in. My contribution so far is Coronation Chicken, Salmon cakes, leek and potato soup, and some cake I found in the freezer (as well as the chicken and the soup), and will probably wash my hair in honor of the event.
Speaking of which Peg's Italian hairdresser of 30 years, Tina, arrived today for a commiseration visit, along with her Italian husband Dante. They brought chocolates. I gave them iced tea, pictures of Peg they wanted, a pair of Peg's earrings, and, a sudden inspiration--the piece of marble Peg stole from Hadrian's Villa in Rome in 1959, figuring if I can't get it back to Italy, at least Italians in Pittsfield have it.
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