Waiting To Make the Move

I have finished all of the unpacking, having completed the move to my new house on Brady Road. The method we used to move our (mostly all mine) belongings was very easy on me and I was  able to do a lot of packing myself. To be exact, the weight of the POD , 3/4 of which are personally labeled "Claire's s---", weighed in at 7, 800 lbs ...or...roughly 4 tons of "worthless crap" as Lon referred to it. I forgot to  mention the additional 26 foot U-Haul (their largest truck), 3 pickup trucks and a Volkswagen Golf hatchback.


Attention: This Was A  MOVING VAN, people.

In our old driveway there was the most embarrassing POD. It was not a dignified sort of POD as pods go. Rather it looks like a "cleaning out junk" brand pod with the big words 1-800-PACK-RAT.COM plastered on both sides coming and going. This would not have bothered me so much if it had just been sitting in the driveway over a weekend or even a week. But, it was  there for what seemed like months and I had a suspicion our neighbors (who would gladly have had a home owners association if I would have let them) were probably thinking "eyesore".

The "plan" that Mr. King  came up with worked well. My most precious belongings baked in the pod and I was unnecessarily concerned for my stuff. I really wanted to get the "show on the road" (as my dad used to say). It held everything that is "Claire"...my flutes, my heirloom costume jewelry, my perfume collection and (HORRORS)...my fabric.

Our move to the new house went perfectly. We had some wonderful help. The only casualty was my big stained class window I have had since my 70's apartment living days. I hope to get it repaired for the  nth time and hang it again.

This new house is beautiful and I am enjoying my clean spacious bathroom, gorgeous tile and most importantly....the new sewing room.  I am enjoying my new appliances, our back porch with views of all kinds of beautiful birds and especially a Blue Heron named Henry, flying in to his very own "Osteen's" next door to eat local seafood.   I can't go without mentioning a remote controlled ceiling fan, a big over sized sink in the laundry room, new kitchen drawers that quietly close by themselves and one other thing I've only shared with Joyce and Shirley.  I haven't seen any opossum, raccoons, bobcats, snakes or turtles yet.

Liquor boxes from the local package store was  our preferred method of packing and although I no longer know how to make fancy drinks or highballs, I thought I knew what was out there to imbibe... I found myself really out of touch with what the liquor industry is selling these days and from the number of empty boxes the manager of the liquor store has left outside for the taking, he is really doing some volume selling to be sure.

I know how to rank liquor by the quality of the box it is shipped in. The boxes that have built in dividers  made it extra easy to pack glasses and precious dust catching figurines I have acquired during the past 50 years. Some boxes really stood out. The more expensive the liquor, the better the box. A beautiful case of Silver Patron is shipped in a glossy green paper covered flip top box and puts to shame any other box made. My fabric markers and Sharpies fit perfectly into this wondrous box. The boxes that contained Jose Quervo made me want to unpack my Waring blender and mix up a batch of margaritas for the guys working on the roof   during construction. I think of the strange but delightful quilts I've seen made out of purple and gold Crown Royal bags.

 Crown Royal boxes are only topped by Silver Patron boxes. Low on ladder are the Captain Morgan and Old Hickory boxes, but any vodka box intrigues me. They are the most unique  and sophisticated of the lot with minimalist marketing techniques making vodka the drink of really cool drinkers who have really cool glasses. Apparently vodka flows like water around Mandarin.

Before my son came along, I used to really enjoy drinking. Alcohol was my downfall sadly as I was never able to coordinate liquor and school. The two were wound tightly together however and thus the downfall. I guess it was a combination of culture and my young age combined, that I drank so much. I remember making a great fake ID and thought nothing of walking into a bar before I was 21. I began my drinking with sloe gin. I never really cared for beer, but  I could cop a Champale now and then when I was in high school.....and it didn't taste like Champagne.  The next thing I knew, I was hooked on Lime Daiquiris made with a can of Minute Maid Limeade concentrate and equal parts of Bacardi Rum or was it Vodka? (I can't even remember now). I would drink myself under the table (whatever that means) completely wasted, room spinning, throwing up  drunk. Not a pretty sight.  Fortunately, my parents and beloved relatives never saw me like that and I have matured considerably since them. Oh...if I knew then what I know now.

Getting back to the liquor boxes, we had an endless supply to pack and blow the old  barn and prepare for  our new digs. There were  a few things holding our moving up and our contractor, Justin King, put  his back-up  plan in place to bring the adventure of building a house to an end.  He is an amazingly hard worker who pays attention to detail. I like that about him (along with many other things).  He has built me, his haggard old step-mother a beautiful new home and I am so proud of him.  I hope the boxes waiting to be picked up on recycling day didn't give the impression that I drink a lot.  None of the neighbors have come over holding an empty glass, so I guess I'm clear.