Movin' on up

And up, and up, and up some more.

Friends! First of all, thank you for all your responses to my last newsletter, wherein I asked you if you wanted a more blog-style newsletter or something more profesh. 100% of respondents said “blog please” which was the best news for me, because that’s what I enjoy doing the most. (Fun fact: I started to get mildly offended that so many replies were characterizing my writing as “rambling,” and then I re-read my newsletter, where I, in fact, had used that very term.) So blog it is! Welcome to my inner life.

I spent last week alone, because Scott had gone to my in-laws in Utah. It was my mother-in-law Cookie’s birthday, and he surprised her! What a good son, right? We haven’t seen either of Scott’s parents in three years, so this was a big deal. In the minutes leading up to the REVEAL, I was home, staring at my phone, waiting to hear that the surprise was pulled off—and I had turned into that Kristin Wiig character on SNL who can’t handle surprises. I was losing my mind with anticipation.

Finally, he sent a text that read “We got her!” with this photo.

And I burst into tears. Cookie! Cookie is aptly named, as she is sweet and soft and smells nice and everyone loves her. I wish I could have gone as well.

Meanwhile I was here, alone, having full conversations with both Hazel and Izzy. Hazel has a chronic cough, which I am not sure I’ve mentioned before. Like many elderly small dogs, her trachea has collapsed, which sounds horrendous but with medication she seems to be comfortable. She just honks all day, like a chatty goose. Normally this annoys me, because I am a bad person, but while I was alone it felt comforting, like I was in the company of, well, a chatty goose.

“Hazel, are you trying to get on the couch?”

“Harnk.”

“You can do it.”

“Huuhhhnk.”

“You’re a strong, confident woman, and nothing can stop you.”

“Heeerrrrrmk.”

“There you go.”

“Hrmk.”

One day I was locked in an all-out battle with a fruit fly that would not stop tormenting me. I shouted at it while on a Zoom call with a client. “I thought I killed you!” I barked, which is an unsettling thing to hear someone say while they’re slapping at their own head.

I got a little weird, which can be fun for limited periods of time. Then one starts to worry about one’s grip on reality.

Fortunately for me, Scott came home, and we commenced looking at real estate online, which is our new hobby ever since we (drum roll please) decided we’re definitely probably moving out of the city. We’re going to move to a location near my sister, somewhere in the Hudson Valley. At some point. When we can find something that’s not insanely expensive and/or overly haunted.

Recently Scott found a cool place that announced in its description that it was the “site of a historical burial ground,” which I was like, why would we move to a place that’s announcing that it’s lousy with ghosts? Scott was like, “You know that all of [the aforementioned town] is probably a giant burial ground, right? It’s all soured ground. Grow up!” (He didn’t say “grow up” but I heard it.) “I just don’t need them to rub our faces in it,” I replied, sensibly. I’m the sensible one, here. Scott doesn’t think ghosts are real! (Also: “soured ground”? Who is this man?)

More soon. A reminder that I am taking clients for my book-coaching business. I’m coaching non-fiction, and (thrillingly) my schedule is filling up, so contact me if you need help!