For several days I am staying at my daughter’s house with her two children and four cats. She is having a getaway, and I am in grandmother mode. I do not feel like writing, but a tiny part of me hopes that going through the motions of imparting something readable will raise the writerly impulse. The children have reached ages that don’t require constant attention; at ten and fourteen, they have their interests and occupations. I am mostly cook and chauffeur. Only occasionally am I called upon to relieve someone else’s boredom, and that is usually one or the other of the cats. Let me out, pet me, let me in, top off my food, please…………………. do something about the litterbox. The oldest and most dignified of the cats is asleep in the chair I am now perched upon. I just couldn’t bring myself to remove her simply for the sake of my own comfort. Besides, perching keeps me more alert. Drowsiness –  leftover from spending last night with the overly affectionate Mr. Pibb – is counteracted somewhat by my precarious position and upright posture.  You see… I can almost laugh at my current situation.

My own cat remains in my house across town, so in addition to taking the children to various destinations, I must make the trek across town to make sure Sunny is fed and reassured. All the driving is made interesting by the fact that “Cruisin the Coast” is taking place during these same days of my relocation. This means that our area is overrun by antique cars and their proud and vociferously celebrating owners. They hale from all over the United States, and every year I wonder at there presence in our small peaceful town. The cars tend to be painted garish colors, appearing cartoonish as they slow down traffic, complicating every attempt to drive anywhere. Downtown is impossible; our lovely oak-lined Washington Avenue is closed off to all but the cruizers and pedestrians, and boothes are set up selling food and drink of every description. So far we havn’t braved the center of it all, but my conscience tells me that my ten-year-old grandson would appreciate my making the sacrifice. I am in grandmother mode, after all, and we might have fun…


Tags: , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: