MIXED NUTS or Random thoughts about my new life as a Buckeye

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR Whenever we had grilled cheese and milk (when I was a child) I pretended to be Heidi, living in the Alps with her grandfather and her two goats, and staring up at the stars at night from a bed next to the window. I am still eating grilled cheese and drinking milk and I still think about Heidi. My bed is next to a window (it’s a pretty small room) and I live on an Alp. People say “you’re so lucky to have that great view and still be able to walk into town.” I guess they’re right. I think we’ve made the .3 mile trek twice on foot but we can see the library from our living room and almost hear the falls. BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU FEAR I spent thirty six years in the same house in Virginia and, outside of my family, my dearest wish was to keep my friends and neighbors close. I died a thousand deaths every time someone important to me announced she was going to move. I mean, really. I just closed up and lurched into denial. Last week I met one of my new neighbors, a lovely woman named Colleen. She welcomed me, offered any help needed and added with a smile, “you know, Pam, who lived in your house? She was my best friend.” The next time I met her, Colleen invited me to come drink wine on her front porch. OUTLAWS CAN BE THE BEST Our move took us to within a few miles of the other set of grandparents which made me wonder if we would wind up in cage matches to get time with the tiny granddaughters. It hasn’t happened. Apparently there are enough hours in the day (and week) for all of us. In addition, those outlaws have ushered us closely and carefully and supportively through some major events, i.e. installing a wireless carrier, installing a television and chauffeuring us to the rather intimidating Cleveland Clinic. They are also our friends. NOTABLE CONVERSATIONS My favorite conversation since we’ve arrived was with Abby. At her five-year-old check up, the new doctor told her to eat more green. She told me this with a speculative look in her eye. “Nannie, is ice cream green?” “Sometimes,” I said, cautiously, wondering where this was going. “There’s mint chocolate chip. That can be green. And lime sherbet.” “What’s lime sherbet?” I explained as best I could. “What about marshmallow cakes?” I have, for some unknown reason, started to use up the marshmallows I brought from Virginia by adding a Skittle on top and calling it a cake. Abby is very fond of the concoction. “Not green,” I said, regret in my voice. “White. Oh, but there’s another one. Pistachio. Can you say pistachio?” “Fistachio.” Pause. “What is that?” “It’s green ice cream that has nuts in it. Pistachio nuts.” “Oh.” Another pause. “Nannie? Have I ever ate-en it?” “Probably not.” “I know,” she said, jumping off the couch. “You can make me a marshmallow cake with a green Skittle!” “Sure,” I said. “That’ll make the doctor happy.” UNPACKING PROGRESS REPORT: Large basement still filled with unpacked boxes. Large garage filled with unpacked flatpacks from IKEA. Two week countdown until new baby.