Realtors contacted. 5 emails went out this afternoon at 1, by 2 PM I'd heard back from all but one of them. Have arranged a series of appointments for next week, starting Tuesday afternoon for them all to come out and look at the house. Sothebys already trying to do a hard sell with me, using Peg's name and career, links to all the NY papers and beyond etc. Didn't start well when he asked for "Mr. King" on the phone but--we'll see. Will ask each to prepare a selling plan and then choose which one seems to be instinctively the right one, but will only sign for 3 mos and see how they do.
House is in good enough shape for realtors to assess, at least. Will do a number on it when it's time for pics.
Latest is the Dynamic Duo Ken and Laurie want to come back, in a week or so. Stay another two weeks. I am toying with the idea of asking Ken to stay here until either the house sells or he finds a place to live. If he can chip in with utilities it would be a comfort to me to know the place isn't empty. Bonnie and Outside Bob will be checking on it/doing mail and so on after I go back home but--still. They will not unearth marvelous things in the lower garden--and my Ken Doll will.
I had a night away in CT last night with my Very Select Reunion group (as I have dubbed them) from high school. 8 of us. Marvelous. And fun. Love them to bits. And I got to spend a night in a big cozy bed with no coyotes baying through the screens trying to get to my throat and other soft bits. The only downside, not counting a 30 mile detour on a dirt road because they were doing something to highway, was dropping my £££ prescription sunglasses onto the tile floor and knocking the stem off, plus the little silver bar that holds it in place that says Burberry or Calvin Klein or Don't Buy These Suckers Again. However, Tom, Peg's fan at Berkshire optical over the mountain has fixed me up with superglue and as soon as I get prescription sent from the UK (closed on Saturdays and Bank Holiday Monday, good old England) he will whip me up a spare pair.
4 packages/boxes mailed off to relatives today, GAP Outlet to buy jeans--have only 1 pair here and it's getting cold here in the mountains--then to West Stockbridge to help Tory pack up her house. I take my hat off. She's leaving--a life. I get it, not just on some level but on every level. Things her mother saved, her aunts and so on. A beautiful house full of beautiful things (i.e. 9 million antique quilts her mother collected) but she's selling the lot. That's the way to do it. An estate sale in 2 weeks. Needless to say I am adding to the pile and heading over there in a truck tomorrow with things I've been dithering about as to keep, ebay, or consignment shop. I have a new favorite category for boxes now: TORY.
I went through 3 folders last night in preparation for scanning: Peg's letters and cards to Odd from 1948-49 and her letters to his parents in Norway. Marvelous stuff. She details every aspect of writing, rehearsing, performance--all so they can understand what she does. One of them slayed me: she wrote to them about what an imposter she felt, how the world is going to suss her out any second, that she's just writing 'plain old ordinary family' stuff and should't be getting all the fame and adulation.
Also did the CONTRACTS file, rather a large one, dating back to 1937. And letters from Peg's mother to Norway, also good, since they also detail what Peg is doing, career-wise (and how adorable Baby Astrid is, so keeping THESE).
Out to dinner last night, out again tonight. I am being well looked-after. But miss my home, and my bed, and husband and son and dog and mates. And my M & S long underwear.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
BETTER
A full day. Slept, which helps, despite fucking coyotes am convinced are circling the house and have megaphones.
Up and out bright and early and off to Kushi Center around the corner to let them know house is coming on the market, they have no money but seems polite to notify them, then to Hinsdale post office to mail $54 worth of stuff to deserving folk, on towards bubble wrap and plastic sleeves at Staples, which I was pleased to note had a United Parcel Service desk, so went back to the car for the 3 huge frames of ancestors which is going to someone related I've never met in Michigan, and it would have helped if some Staples employee actually MANNED this desk more frequently than once a half century but, finally, all got sent.
And it was onwards to Price Chopper, then Tina's for a $35 haircut, then to the bank for those paper coin sleeves for the 9000 pennies in dishes around this place, then to Goodwill in Lee, then to friend Tory's in Lee to exchange Saab for Subaru (again, we're getting quite good at this), then to Baja Charlie's with Tory for Mexican lunch of veggie quesadillas, onwards to Lucky Nails for a pedicure Vietnamese style, meaning they don't care to your face if you have disgusting fungus on your big toenails but you can be sure yak non stop in Vietnamese to everyone else who works there about your nasty toes, then across the street to Greylock Federal Credit Union to discuss possible line of credit, then home and onto to phone ASAP for meeting with DK's website magic man in the UK to get All Things KEY CHANGES, DK's memoir, onto deniskingmusic.com with all the right links, then rush rush rush to get all garbage that's been piling up for weeks from the back entry onto the driveway so friend Jenkins can collect in his truck and hit Middlefield Town Dump (open Wed from 5- 8 PM), then back here to feed him Shepherd's Pie made from lamb from Peg Freezer, which hasn't made a dent in the lamb she's got frozen, looks like it might be a whole herd of sheep in there, plus maybe a collie or two, and now here I am, 9:15 PM, and not feeling nearly as sad as I did last night.
Full day out an about is the answer.
I think I was OD-ing on scanning yesterday. And there is no doubt that the pedicure has brightened my outlook considerably. It's a bright neon orange polish I have chosen, too.
Plus another relative I've never heard of has got in touch via the family Facebook page to say she wants all the family letters plus a glove box plus the antique sugar scoop and a slew of other things and--I am happy. Off they will go to Lincoln, Nebraska tomorrow.
Remind me when I get back to England to never save anything ever again.
Tomorrow I start dealing with realtors and a company that can ship all this shit I'm saving over to England.
Up and out bright and early and off to Kushi Center around the corner to let them know house is coming on the market, they have no money but seems polite to notify them, then to Hinsdale post office to mail $54 worth of stuff to deserving folk, on towards bubble wrap and plastic sleeves at Staples, which I was pleased to note had a United Parcel Service desk, so went back to the car for the 3 huge frames of ancestors which is going to someone related I've never met in Michigan, and it would have helped if some Staples employee actually MANNED this desk more frequently than once a half century but, finally, all got sent.
And it was onwards to Price Chopper, then Tina's for a $35 haircut, then to the bank for those paper coin sleeves for the 9000 pennies in dishes around this place, then to Goodwill in Lee, then to friend Tory's in Lee to exchange Saab for Subaru (again, we're getting quite good at this), then to Baja Charlie's with Tory for Mexican lunch of veggie quesadillas, onwards to Lucky Nails for a pedicure Vietnamese style, meaning they don't care to your face if you have disgusting fungus on your big toenails but you can be sure yak non stop in Vietnamese to everyone else who works there about your nasty toes, then across the street to Greylock Federal Credit Union to discuss possible line of credit, then home and onto to phone ASAP for meeting with DK's website magic man in the UK to get All Things KEY CHANGES, DK's memoir, onto deniskingmusic.com with all the right links, then rush rush rush to get all garbage that's been piling up for weeks from the back entry onto the driveway so friend Jenkins can collect in his truck and hit Middlefield Town Dump (open Wed from 5- 8 PM), then back here to feed him Shepherd's Pie made from lamb from Peg Freezer, which hasn't made a dent in the lamb she's got frozen, looks like it might be a whole herd of sheep in there, plus maybe a collie or two, and now here I am, 9:15 PM, and not feeling nearly as sad as I did last night.
Full day out an about is the answer.
I think I was OD-ing on scanning yesterday. And there is no doubt that the pedicure has brightened my outlook considerably. It's a bright neon orange polish I have chosen, too.
Plus another relative I've never heard of has got in touch via the family Facebook page to say she wants all the family letters plus a glove box plus the antique sugar scoop and a slew of other things and--I am happy. Off they will go to Lincoln, Nebraska tomorrow.
Remind me when I get back to England to never save anything ever again.
Tomorrow I start dealing with realtors and a company that can ship all this shit I'm saving over to England.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
SAD AND SICK
Alone here and not caring for it. Last night it sounded like the coyotes were in the hallway. Had to get up and turn on the outside floodlights. No sign. Then awoke to violent thunder and rain, padded downstairs to unplug my laptop and phones. Discovered the roof is leaking. Had to deal with thumb tacking plastic sheeting in the attic.
5 huge boxes in the car ready to UPS to relatives and friends and some woman in Ohio who wants the big verdigris/bronze repro head of Boy On a Dolphin that Peg bought in Delphi in 1964 and we had to schlep back from Greece. Tick. Now need homes for the fucking 9 million Horizon Art Magazines and World History of Art 13 Volumes and will be away to the races.
Tick also to: 4 big thick Peg Archive files of contracts; 6 boxes Peg Archive fan mail; a personal history of growing up in Meraker Norway, Cousin Hedvig's version (as opposed to Eirik my grandfather's version) , which is winging its way now to Sweden to her daughter or granddaughter, I can't recall; 4 side chairs rubbed down with Scratch-Cover; 1 freezer emptied; letter and $350 check and cremation certificates off to Maple Grove Cemetery in Minnesota (actually re-did letter 4 times, after Bonnie kept pointing out inaccuracies like my dating it 1915 instead of 2015 and so on).
I think my mind is deteriorating at a faster rate here than it does in Suffolk.
The "urn" arrived. It looks fine. Light, too. And vaguely tasteful. Like a stack of 5 leather-bound books with gilt titles, the names of which I will change once I get a gold pen at Staples tomorrow. (I mean, WHAT am I doing? Gold pen? Who cares? WHO is going to read this? ). My friend Giliana suggested the main centered book, slightly thicker than the others, should be entitled "OUR PERFECT DAUGHTER by Mr. & Mrs. O.K. Ronning", which I am more than leaning towards.
The dumpster left. The lady driver had some issues backing down the drive and getting it reattached again to the truck, plus her horn was going the whole time, some kind of short circuit, and for which she apologized.
Met with a new friend who's a realtor in CT but has a summer cabin up here and wants to hold my hand throughout the selling and marketing of the house, which pleases me. Plus she's fun. Also have someone who wants to house sit/caretake if it doesn't sell right away, who works at the General Store down the road.
I feel sick. Headachey and nauseous. And unbelievably lonely. And kind of fed up with this.
5 huge boxes in the car ready to UPS to relatives and friends and some woman in Ohio who wants the big verdigris/bronze repro head of Boy On a Dolphin that Peg bought in Delphi in 1964 and we had to schlep back from Greece. Tick. Now need homes for the fucking 9 million Horizon Art Magazines and World History of Art 13 Volumes and will be away to the races.
Tick also to: 4 big thick Peg Archive files of contracts; 6 boxes Peg Archive fan mail; a personal history of growing up in Meraker Norway, Cousin Hedvig's version (as opposed to Eirik my grandfather's version) , which is winging its way now to Sweden to her daughter or granddaughter, I can't recall; 4 side chairs rubbed down with Scratch-Cover; 1 freezer emptied; letter and $350 check and cremation certificates off to Maple Grove Cemetery in Minnesota (actually re-did letter 4 times, after Bonnie kept pointing out inaccuracies like my dating it 1915 instead of 2015 and so on).
I think my mind is deteriorating at a faster rate here than it does in Suffolk.
The "urn" arrived. It looks fine. Light, too. And vaguely tasteful. Like a stack of 5 leather-bound books with gilt titles, the names of which I will change once I get a gold pen at Staples tomorrow. (I mean, WHAT am I doing? Gold pen? Who cares? WHO is going to read this? ). My friend Giliana suggested the main centered book, slightly thicker than the others, should be entitled "OUR PERFECT DAUGHTER by Mr. & Mrs. O.K. Ronning", which I am more than leaning towards.
The dumpster left. The lady driver had some issues backing down the drive and getting it reattached again to the truck, plus her horn was going the whole time, some kind of short circuit, and for which she apologized.
Met with a new friend who's a realtor in CT but has a summer cabin up here and wants to hold my hand throughout the selling and marketing of the house, which pleases me. Plus she's fun. Also have someone who wants to house sit/caretake if it doesn't sell right away, who works at the General Store down the road.
I feel sick. Headachey and nauseous. And unbelievably lonely. And kind of fed up with this.
Monday, August 24, 2015
MISTAKE
...reading my father's letters to my mother in 1976 when he took time off work and flew over to Norway to help take care of his father, Eirik, 92, who in fact died a week or so later. Made me sad. I understood for the first time that Daddy was going through exactly what we all went through here with him and later with Peg--dealing with catheters, wet beds, messes, shit, dentures, dribbles, trying to get liquid down, pureeing food, alternating between being optimistic and pessimistic, seeing someone you love in pain but being brave--and then of course after the death, being confronted by the mountain of stuff to go through. I'd forgotten that Odd had gone over to Norway. It was only a few months after my wedding (first one), and Eirik, aka my Bestefar, had come over to give me away, along with Daddy. I was so proud, walking down the vom between them (no aisle, got married in a theatre, but of course..)
I am now trying to remember at what my point father stopped being Daddy Who Knew How To Do Stuff and Take Care of Things, and became the someone who couldn't drive down the drive without taking the wing mirror off on a pine tree or even be able go outside by himself anymore, let alone weed.
His letters to Peg are so heartfelt, so articulate. Was quite stunned. That's the papa I want to remember, not the one who couldn't get his breath and watched CNN with the sound off.
I walked outside today, looking at his garden, thinking how clever he was. Considering he hasn't touched it in over 10 years, it really doesn't look too bad. Ground cover being the order of the day, and you have to like rhododendrons and myrtle and laurel, but still. He thought ahead and--it worked.
Am now going to go read Peg's letters to Norway to see if she said anything bad about me.
I am now trying to remember at what my point father stopped being Daddy Who Knew How To Do Stuff and Take Care of Things, and became the someone who couldn't drive down the drive without taking the wing mirror off on a pine tree or even be able go outside by himself anymore, let alone weed.
His letters to Peg are so heartfelt, so articulate. Was quite stunned. That's the papa I want to remember, not the one who couldn't get his breath and watched CNN with the sound off.
I walked outside today, looking at his garden, thinking how clever he was. Considering he hasn't touched it in over 10 years, it really doesn't look too bad. Ground cover being the order of the day, and you have to like rhododendrons and myrtle and laurel, but still. He thought ahead and--it worked.
Am now going to go read Peg's letters to Norway to see if she said anything bad about me.
ARCHIVISTS INC.
The scanner has been going full time, especially yesterday, when the lovely Savannah Grace came from Concord (MASS) with her equally lovely ma, Jen. Savannah started by glueing all the gilt gesso that had chipped off Peg's portrait (that Jen's father in fact painted back in the 70s), and Jen got started cataloguing all the Radio & TV books in which Peg is mentioned, or interviewed, photographing the cover, then the pages in question, then packed into a box ready to go to Peg archive in Oregon. Whereupon Jen attacked Peg's personal treasured books, listing them, ready for sale either on website or Yellow House Books in Great Barrington.
Savannah went on to scan about 150 family letters, beginning 1882 to the present day.
And when they left they took the Fairbanks Table which has been in the family for generations, and will deliver it back to the Fairbanks House Museum in Dedham, not far from Concord. Sorted. YES.
I meanwhile got through 5 boxes. Letters from Peg's beaux. Letters from Peg's director (and possible beau). Letters from her lawyer. Letters from my grandmother on a European tour in 1949 to Peg back working in NY. Letters from Peg to Odd in Norway in1948. Letters to Peg from her grandson, from me. The only thing that has me stumped, still, are letters (200+) from my first husband to me, which my ex sister in law says to keep, please keep, but can't think why, have tried to read some again and it's mostly embarrassing or indecipherable (terrible handwriting) so might just be time to pitch.
Renning family framed portraits now bubble wrapped and ready to UPS to Renning family members in the MidWest.
Met with landscaper who's going to come round with 2 guys and saws and a chipper and make the drive tidier, losing saplings, dead limbs and so on.
Tonight is 5 boxes of fan mail dating back to the 40s. What to do with it all. Oregon, watch out.
Tomorrow the dumpster goes.
Wednesday I get my friend David with his truck and we load all the excess garbage bags that have piling up and hike em over to the dump in Middlefield. Who says my life isn't exciting.
And the bad news is my Clinique back order for Tinted Moisture Surge still hasn't come, having been ordered in early July, so rang them, they reckon on October, thank you. I'll be needing more than just a surge by then, I can tell you.
Savannah went on to scan about 150 family letters, beginning 1882 to the present day.
And when they left they took the Fairbanks Table which has been in the family for generations, and will deliver it back to the Fairbanks House Museum in Dedham, not far from Concord. Sorted. YES.
I meanwhile got through 5 boxes. Letters from Peg's beaux. Letters from Peg's director (and possible beau). Letters from her lawyer. Letters from my grandmother on a European tour in 1949 to Peg back working in NY. Letters from Peg to Odd in Norway in1948. Letters to Peg from her grandson, from me. The only thing that has me stumped, still, are letters (200+) from my first husband to me, which my ex sister in law says to keep, please keep, but can't think why, have tried to read some again and it's mostly embarrassing or indecipherable (terrible handwriting) so might just be time to pitch.
Renning family framed portraits now bubble wrapped and ready to UPS to Renning family members in the MidWest.
Met with landscaper who's going to come round with 2 guys and saws and a chipper and make the drive tidier, losing saplings, dead limbs and so on.
Tonight is 5 boxes of fan mail dating back to the 40s. What to do with it all. Oregon, watch out.
Tomorrow the dumpster goes.
Wednesday I get my friend David with his truck and we load all the excess garbage bags that have piling up and hike em over to the dump in Middlefield. Who says my life isn't exciting.
And the bad news is my Clinique back order for Tinted Moisture Surge still hasn't come, having been ordered in early July, so rang them, they reckon on October, thank you. I'll be needing more than just a surge by then, I can tell you.
Friday, August 21, 2015
LAWYERS
Considering a lawsuit re the funeral home and ashes mix-up. Not sure if I have the energy or inclination or funds but lawyers speechless by what's happened so--who knows.
The trunk to hold Peg and Odd's ashes--and of course whosoever feels like joining them, am not particular anymore, all welcome--has been shipped to Minnesota, full of mementos, pics, STUFF to bury with them, which UPS kindly did for me for $20.
Got through a few more boxes last night, lawyer friend Paul who I've known since 3rd grade and his beautiful Kate, retired archivist--made me understand that almost everything could go on to Peg's archive in Oregon and THEY could deal with it, tax and business records from the 40s, 50s and 60s, none of which interest me one whit, save a cancelled check I found from 1968 from Peg to my boyfriend Rob for $350 (paying him to be nice to me despite me being a shite to him perhaps), but so much of the stuff deals with her show and expenses and I suppose, okay, might be of interest to someone someday if they're doing a book on what it cost to own and produce and write and star in a TV show in the 1950s.
I scanned about 40 letters today, including one from my grandmother, Peg's ma, to her husband, Peg's pa, 4 days before he died of the Spanish flu in 1918--chastising him for not writing more. This is before she knew he was sick. Made me cry.
Outside Bob's last day for 2 weeks, which also made me cry, there's still so much to do, but we got some carpet underlays down from the attic into the dumpster, and the upstairs hall painted, and about 9 brass carpet things for doorjambs put it so you don't trip. There must be real name for these.
Did a phone interview re Peg with some 2 year old who had not done his homework, for the Rochester Post Bulletin. Told him to ring me back tomorrow after he'd read her website, that we're wasting time asking me stuff like when was she BORN, thank you. Where do they find these guys.
Designer Friend David came round and we moved furniture for 2 hours, "decorating the set", which we are very good at--and finally the living room is beginning to look like a living room and the den like a den, not counting a lovely pink oriental carpet which looks great but stinks to high heaven of possibly dog pee, so it may have to hit the dumpster.
Cancelled my flight home next week. Sadly but hey. No choice. Virgin Atlantic not charging me for a date change, thanks to Peg dying. Very kind.
Big worry: I am starting to really like the house, for the first time in 45 years.
Also worrying that I am becoming boring, so closing before I start thinking of all the wonderful times I had with my ma and getting teary.
More houseguests tomorrow. Hope they like leftovers and scanning shit.
The trunk to hold Peg and Odd's ashes--and of course whosoever feels like joining them, am not particular anymore, all welcome--has been shipped to Minnesota, full of mementos, pics, STUFF to bury with them, which UPS kindly did for me for $20.
Got through a few more boxes last night, lawyer friend Paul who I've known since 3rd grade and his beautiful Kate, retired archivist--made me understand that almost everything could go on to Peg's archive in Oregon and THEY could deal with it, tax and business records from the 40s, 50s and 60s, none of which interest me one whit, save a cancelled check I found from 1968 from Peg to my boyfriend Rob for $350 (paying him to be nice to me despite me being a shite to him perhaps), but so much of the stuff deals with her show and expenses and I suppose, okay, might be of interest to someone someday if they're doing a book on what it cost to own and produce and write and star in a TV show in the 1950s.
I scanned about 40 letters today, including one from my grandmother, Peg's ma, to her husband, Peg's pa, 4 days before he died of the Spanish flu in 1918--chastising him for not writing more. This is before she knew he was sick. Made me cry.
Outside Bob's last day for 2 weeks, which also made me cry, there's still so much to do, but we got some carpet underlays down from the attic into the dumpster, and the upstairs hall painted, and about 9 brass carpet things for doorjambs put it so you don't trip. There must be real name for these.
Did a phone interview re Peg with some 2 year old who had not done his homework, for the Rochester Post Bulletin. Told him to ring me back tomorrow after he'd read her website, that we're wasting time asking me stuff like when was she BORN, thank you. Where do they find these guys.
Designer Friend David came round and we moved furniture for 2 hours, "decorating the set", which we are very good at--and finally the living room is beginning to look like a living room and the den like a den, not counting a lovely pink oriental carpet which looks great but stinks to high heaven of possibly dog pee, so it may have to hit the dumpster.
Cancelled my flight home next week. Sadly but hey. No choice. Virgin Atlantic not charging me for a date change, thanks to Peg dying. Very kind.
Big worry: I am starting to really like the house, for the first time in 45 years.
Also worrying that I am becoming boring, so closing before I start thinking of all the wonderful times I had with my ma and getting teary.
More houseguests tomorrow. Hope they like leftovers and scanning shit.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
TURNS OUT PEG NOT AS HOME AS WE'D THOUGHT
Primarily because Dery Funeral Home returned somebody else's ashes to us, ashes belonging to somebody named Peter, a mentally disturbed Vietnam vet who jumped off a building in downtown Pittsfield (next door to where my friend Louise was getting her hair cut, as it happened). So for two weeks seems I've been throwing a kiss to Peter every time I passed the brown plastic container, not to mention scattering some of him next to Odd and the dead collies under the rhododendrons and all that rigamarole on the kitchen counter, spooning off some of him for Peg's fan in Seattle (and mailing it), and who I've now had to email to say please throw Peter out unless you and Donna want to be buried with him instead of Peg.
A panicky few hours it was indeed, after Bonnie opened the cremation certificate taped to the box in order to make copies for the cemetery in Minnesota and the airline--in the unlikely event they think ashes might be a security risk, along with my shoes--and she read the name and nearly fell over. As did I. And Laurie and Ken and even the Fedex man who happened to be here delivering a case of exfoliating face pads for me from drugstore.com, which I can't get in England (and seem to have ordered 18 rolls of instead of 8).
Dery's, when rung, was not as apologetic as I might have been, but clearly were worried (I guess SO), especially since my final words to Fred Dery had been "Look after my Mama, please, Fred" and he assured me he would guard her with his life. Fred Dery who is now shortly to be dead himself if I ever run into him again.
The good news, finally, after 2 or more hours, was that Peter's son was located and asked about HIS container of ashes, the label of which indeed had my mother's name on it and--thank you God--had not been scattered in the Housatonic or over Hanoi or anything else Peg wouldn't have cared for. So, Dery's collected Peg, brought her to us, took (what was left of) Peter, and returned him to his son and, not counting Peg and Odd and the collies having company down there under the rhododendrons until kingdom come--all SEEMS to be sorted. I don't even want to think about what if the labels got switched. The other good news here is that I refused to pay Dery's bill, and they grudgingly rendered it null and void. So end of the day, Peg, by not staying put, saved me $3000.
The sad news is that Laurie and Ken, my helpers of three weeks, have had to go back to Ohio. Neither wanted to leave but she was worried about her cat. I told her to go get it and bring it back with them, which they just might, so hope to Christ a coyote doesn't get it.
7 for dinner tonight. 2 more tomorrow. 4 on Saturday. Freezer dinners. Hope they all like lamb, looks like Peg bought a herd. I have lovely lovely friends.
Habitat Restore came today and took an enormous truckload for charity, old shutters, rugs, chairs, everything, love them madly. Already becoming more like my mother, I invited them for lunch.
A panicky few hours it was indeed, after Bonnie opened the cremation certificate taped to the box in order to make copies for the cemetery in Minnesota and the airline--in the unlikely event they think ashes might be a security risk, along with my shoes--and she read the name and nearly fell over. As did I. And Laurie and Ken and even the Fedex man who happened to be here delivering a case of exfoliating face pads for me from drugstore.com, which I can't get in England (and seem to have ordered 18 rolls of instead of 8).
Dery's, when rung, was not as apologetic as I might have been, but clearly were worried (I guess SO), especially since my final words to Fred Dery had been "Look after my Mama, please, Fred" and he assured me he would guard her with his life. Fred Dery who is now shortly to be dead himself if I ever run into him again.
The good news, finally, after 2 or more hours, was that Peter's son was located and asked about HIS container of ashes, the label of which indeed had my mother's name on it and--thank you God--had not been scattered in the Housatonic or over Hanoi or anything else Peg wouldn't have cared for. So, Dery's collected Peg, brought her to us, took (what was left of) Peter, and returned him to his son and, not counting Peg and Odd and the collies having company down there under the rhododendrons until kingdom come--all SEEMS to be sorted. I don't even want to think about what if the labels got switched. The other good news here is that I refused to pay Dery's bill, and they grudgingly rendered it null and void. So end of the day, Peg, by not staying put, saved me $3000.
The sad news is that Laurie and Ken, my helpers of three weeks, have had to go back to Ohio. Neither wanted to leave but she was worried about her cat. I told her to go get it and bring it back with them, which they just might, so hope to Christ a coyote doesn't get it.
7 for dinner tonight. 2 more tomorrow. 4 on Saturday. Freezer dinners. Hope they all like lamb, looks like Peg bought a herd. I have lovely lovely friends.
Habitat Restore came today and took an enormous truckload for charity, old shutters, rugs, chairs, everything, love them madly. Already becoming more like my mother, I invited them for lunch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)