What? Doesn’t everyone have a bathtub in their bedroom? Just sitting there waiting to be enjoyed? No?

We are almost there. “There” being at the point of finally moving back into our fully renovated bedroom and bath. This weekend, they tell me. Can’t wait. How exciting. After six weeks (gads, has it been that long?) of sleeping in the guest bedroom, it’s finally coming to an end.

Hmmm .... an end. The end of the rhythm of my days for the past six weeks is going to be a little strange. Tim got me out of bed earlier than I would normally rise on any given day. Hey, Tim, just because you can’t sleep past 4:30 does that mean you need to arrive five minutes earlier every day? I have to admit that a few times I was still in my robe when he arrived on my doorstep ready to take on the day. He got used to seeing me still in my robe, and I got used to his early arrivals. Every day like clockwork I got up, fed the dogs and cats, rushed upstairs to take my shower, catch the cats and put them in a closed room (for their own safety), do something similar with the dogs, grabbed a cup of coffee and checked my email—all hopefully before the workers arrived. If I overslept, the first thought upon awakening was “oh ****, Tim will be here in ten minutes!” Better get my sorry you-know-what out of bed.

At times I had no privacy, although they were always respectful about it. In and out; up and down. Questions here, questions there. I had a job and that job was to be here to answer questions and make spot decisions so that the work could go forward. Now it would seem I’m about to be cut loose, back to “normal” (whatever that is).  The cats and dogs can once again have the freedom of the entire house. I won’t have to plan my grocery trips and other various errands around when they will be here and when they won’t. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.

The driveway seems empty without the two work trailers parked out in front of the house. We are now able to park both vehicles in the garage—wow—imagine that!  It’s all good except that I find myself a little at odds with it, which is a bit strange. You see, I got used to having people around for the better part of the day. I will miss Tim’s sarcastic wit and our conversations. I couldn’t wait to have my house back to myself again, yet now I am almost regretful that it’s over. Can it be that I am actually going to miss having them around?

On the other hand, we are getting weary of not being in our own bedroom. We are tired of sleeping on our old queen-sized bed. There just isn’t enough room for our two bodies and Sam (our Maine Coon cat who stretches out between us every night and takes up 1/3 of the bed space). Our clothes are in another bedroom, still in the dresser drawers that we removed from the furniture itself so it could all be moved easily. The furniture sits in the upstairs hallway and in the fourth unused bedroom. All our hanging clothes are in what used to be the master bedroom closet (we made a new one). I think you’re beginning to get the idea that this is going to be quite a transition to get everything back in and settled again.

It’s all coming to an end today as they finish setting the bathtub and toilet. Well, almost anyway. We still are waiting on our shower door so we will still have to shower in the guest bathroom for a few more weeks. But we can move back into our newly refurbished bedroom (new wood laminate floor, fresh paint) and enjoy our bubble massage bathtub.

But that might not be the end. I just might have a job after all at the end of this. I might be taking before and after photos of house renovations. Nothing is certain yet. Just maybe ...

Sneak peek at how the bath is coming along:

Have you ever made eye-to-eye contact with a bear? I have. Or maybe this photo is more like eye-to-lens contact.

This bear visited my yard this morning. I think it’s Patches but somehow it looks smaller than that. Same patch of brown hair on her chest though. Not a big bear; more like a two or three year cub. To get these photos I went outside in the back yard and stood at the fence. The bear could have cared less. I just talked to her and every now and then she’d look up at me. What are you doing, lady? she seemed to say.

Who would have ever thought that I would grow to love having bears in my yard?

Looking toward Lower Manhattan,  Wall Street and the Statue of Liberty on a hazy day.

I know, I know. I apologize right up front. I’ve been lagging far behind in my ABC-Alongs. It’s a lot harder than I thought to come up with something. Plus, I like to do entries that coincide with what is actually happening in my life now, and what’s blooming in my yard now, and well, like my life now. My good friend Carolyn wrote to tell me that although she enjoyed the Queen Anne’s Lace entry, she felt that I had royally screwed up my ABC-Along because now what was I going to come up with for Q? I guess I’ll just tackle Q when I come to it.

So, with what’s happening now in my life as a guideline, what could be more timely than our trip into New York City last week?  We went in for the Walking with the Dinosaurs event at Madison Square Garden. We took the train in early to do something we have meant to do since moving here two years ago: visit the Empire State Building.

As you can imagine in high tourist season, lots of other people had the same idea. We stood in line; we went through security, we stood in line again—all before even getting to the ticket office. Here is a shot out the window while waiting in line.

All in all, it wasn’t that bad. We made it from the beginning of the line to the elevator in about 30 minutes. Our elevator made it from the bottom to the 80th floor in less than a minute. The floors didn’t register as 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Oh no. More like 10, 20, 30, etc. As I watched we scaled ten floors at a time in about 5 or 7 seconds. Straight up. No stopping. whizzzz! When we stopped I felt dizzy and off-kilter. Very strange indeed.

We thought we were there, but alas, no. Another line awaited us and at the end of that we had a choice to climb the six flights of stairs to the Observatory on the 86th floor or wait in yet another line for the elevator. We opted to do stairs. The numbers on the landings told us where we were. I swear the 85th floor went on for two floors instead of one. Finally we were at the top with a crush of people vying for spots at the rail.

Here are views from a short person’s perspective. ( I was also trying to be artsy at the same time. ) I could have shot through the barrier but chose not to. Each shot is looking out from a different direction.

We didn’t tarry long gawking at the view. We figured we could come back in the low tourist season and not have to deal with the crush of people. We made our way back down, but this time took the elevator between the 86th and 80th floor instead of the stairs. The ride down was just as disorienting in equilibrium as the ride up, and I found myself staggering out of the elevator doors like someone who has had too much to drink. I have to admit that I had visions of “what if” flashing through my brain as we barreled downward at such a dizzying speed. What if the cable broke? What if the elevator suddenly stops and we’re trapped in here with little to no air flow? I do tend to an overactive imagination at times. Thankfully I didn’t have to worry about any of that since before I knew it we were back down to the main floor.

Walking with the Dinosaurs was awesome but I won’t go into that here since this post is not about that. If you have the chance to see it, do so, you won’t regret it.

There you have it: “N” is for New York (City).

Where the day lilies used to bloom, Queen Anne’s Lace now rules the roadsides. The delicate white umbels nod and sway gracefully as if they are waving hello as you pass by. For a lowly member of the carrot family, it has had bestowed upon it a truly royal name.

Just how did it come by its name?  The American legend says that Anne of Denmark (1574-1619), queen consort of King James I, was an expert lace-maker. The central flower of the carrot’s umbel is reddish-purple. This odd flower was placed upon the umbel for the time Anne pricked her finger and a drop of blood stained the lace. According to Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary the name Queen Anne’s lace did not appear in print until 1895, two hundred seventy-six years after Anne’s death.

Another legend says:
Queen Anne’s Lace is said to have been named after Queen Anne of England, an expert lace maker. English legend tells us that Queen Anne challenged the ladies of the court to a contest to see who could produce a pattern of lace as lovely as the flower of this plant. No one could rival the queen’s handiwork. She however, pricked her finger with a needle and a single drop of blood fell into the lace, that is said to be the dark purple floret in the center of the flower.

One anecdote says Queen Anne’s Lace is so called because one tiny purplish floret in the center is the queen. The white florets make up her lace collar.

Yet another says that the white clusters apparently reminded the British of Queen Anne’s lace headdress.

English botanist Geoffrey Grigson suggests that the name of the plant comes not from a Queen of England but from Saint Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary and the patron saint of lacemakers.

Whatever the true origin of its name, this lacey lovely graces the ground wherever it grows.