Anyone Still Out There?

Hello!  

I cannot believe that it's nearly 
3 years -- years! -- since
I last published a blog post.  

Wow.  I am the very definition of lazy. 

I'm not sure I remember how to do this.

The last time I wrote a blog post on this date of September 18 was in 2013.  It was about psychedelic forsythia leaves in the autumn, old doorknobs and rim locks in our old house, and our two dear dogs, Gilda (L) and Dylan DiPoochy (R).

Sadly, only Dylan is still with us.  

Our beautiful Gilda left us two summers ago.  Dylan is now 10 years old.

Time flies when you're having fun.

And you know what else you do when you're having fun?  

You paint your front door pink.  

Because what looks friendlier than a pink front door?

I mean, who would not want to buy a 187-year old house

with a pink front door?  Hmm?

Yes, friends. 

That Old House is for sale.  

It seems odd to even write that.

When we fell in love with and bought this house in 2008, we were 55 years old, and retirement wasn't on our radar yet, and we never thought, "Gee, all these stairs," or "Gee, our kids will be scattered," "Gee, so many rooms to clean!" or "Gee, how will we pay these New Jersey taxes on a fixed income?"

Image courtesy of https://thegraphicsfairy.com/

But now?  We're both 67.

Yes, time does indeed fly when you're not looking!

Howard is ready to retire.

He is tired of the commute into New York City.

(Even though there is good public transportation.

Tell your friends who might want a wonderful old house on good bus and train lines!)

And I realized, as I went looking for pictures of the house, or pictures of parties or events here, or information on pretty much anything else about our home, as I was reminiscing ... I could find anything I wanted on this blog.

  

This poor old blog that I neglected for years,

after I ran out of ideas.  Or stamina.

My writing corner, with a strange bearded man in residence.
Where all the bloggy magic used to happen.  :-)

But now, I am going to chronicle the selling of That Old House, the process, the downsizing, the choices of new location, new dwelling. 

I'll have these newer posts to look back on, when Howard and I are retired and living in a Sears refrigerator box under a bridge somewhere.  Come visit!

:-)

P.S.  Have you retired yet?

All best wishes, Cass

That Old House Gets Her Feelings Hurt

How could I forget?
The first day of October was the 
5th Blogiversary for That Old House.

I didn't send flowers, didn't send a card,

didn't even mention this event in my post that day.

In fact, I didn't even write a post that day.

Not me, not writing a post, and not my cat.  Or whatever animal that is, stuffed or alive.
But I think I have that same small table topper in my stash of old linens.

Ooops.

Dear old house, dear old blog -- I apologize.

You know how I am.

Pretty fuzzy in the brain department.

Foggy, you might say.

Foggy.

Just like you were, this past Sunday morning.

But I so clearly remember that very first blog post, with one picture

filched from the real estate listing for this house, and not 

a blessed clue as to what I was doing.

On the 2nd TOH Blogiversary, I wrote one of my favorite posts,

about what blogging means to me and, I think, to many others.

That post is here.

************************************

Today I tootled off to a magical place called Bergen County,

where lovely people often sell lovely pieces of furniture

for lovely (if by lovely we mean cheap) prices.

I bought a small chest of drawers, very French, and

I think quite old.  It has lead a colorful life, as some

bits and bobs of its thick veneer have taken permanent leave,

but it is still gorgeous.  Original brasses, too!

However, it's out in my car and it's too dark out now to get a picture.

Tomorrow.  Promise.  You will either think I'm brilliant, or a total boobie, for buying it.

Then, after kidnapping my sister for lunch at a cute little bistro

in Ho-Ho-Kus (and don't you just love that name?),

I went on to yet another town to take a gander at these:

I think it's time I grew up and got real,

grown-up chairs for the lovely table in our dining room.

Since we already have 5 good Queen Anne chairs,

I was hoping these six would give us almost enough, in a similar wood.

Turns out the set was in kind of a sketchy neighborhood.

Even by my standards.

I'll go back on Saturday, with Howard.

For once, I'm being cautious.

And now, my friends, adieu.

Guess what?  It's fewer than 50 days until Thanksgiving.

I think I need to start a T.B.D.B.T. List, posthaste.  Eeek!  --Cass

Many thanks to the amazing Karen of The Graphics Fairy for the vintage images.

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