Welcome To Moving Part 2

The boxes, oh the boxes...

Before I begin, I'd like to give a shout out to my mom. Happy Mother's Day! I hope you are having fun with the rest of the aunts. I am happy you're my mom. Have a beer for me.

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog post...

 
This week was a challenge in unpacking. I honestly wish I could just wave my hands, say some magic spell like in Harry Potter, and have everything put exactly where it needs to be. I'm not a wizard in the Harry Potter world, so I can't do that.

No, this week I spent unpacking all of my stuff and finding places for it to go. My roommate has been very kind and understanding. In fact I just managed to get the last big box out of the apartment a few hours ago. I feel accomplished (even if my bed still has a million and a half things piled on it that I need to put somewhere before I sleep tonight.

At least I've found everything...or at least I think I have. There were a few boxes that had been misplaced (mostly pillows), but I did end up finding them eventually. I have also brought some new containers that fit nicely under my bed.

My biggest advice when it comes to unpacking is set a goal of at least one box per day...and maybe take a few items out of the car.

It's certainly a process and if you can find help, take it. My wonderful cousin and his wife came down on Friday to help me move somethings and just hang out. It was nice seeing a familiar face. I think the hardest part of all of this was that I did it by myself.

It's a hard thing to do and if you don't have someone there with you it can feel like the world is ending. At least if I have to move again by myself I know what to expect, but I highly recommend having a friend or family member help.

I need to go finish cleaning off my bed. Hopefully I get some sleep soon.

Until next week.

If you enjoyed this post (or it really pissed you off), please like, share, and/or leave a comment. I love hearing from my readers and I hope you like hearing from me. Now, back to unpacking.

Welcome to Remembrance

If you read my post two weeks ago, you would know that my grandfather died on Halloween. Yesterday was the funeral. It was beautiful. The weather was gorgeous and we did not have any problems for the internment. The flowers were in full bloom for fall and there wasn’t a bunny rabbit in sight. Dad even added a cigar butt for grandfather. He said he wasn’t going to waste a full one on him. 

The service was more about remembering my grandfather’s life rather than the fact that he had died. He had done so many things and touched so many lives. I loved the story about how my dad and grandfather had wanted to go to the World’s Fair in New York and my grandfather said no they were going to travel around the world for a year. My dad and uncle were not thrilled and insisted they would rather go to the World’s Fair. 

My grandfather was a very blunt and straight forward man, but he also had a great sense of humor. He was a teacher and a minister. He was a mentor and friend. I wish I had asked him for more stories about what he had done throughout his life. I know he was never impressed with the city of Paris. He met the Dalai Lama and worked with the United Nations. He always burnt the coffee and drank it black. He knew how to get things done and never shied away from hard work. 

My family all came to Lancaster for the funeral. It was the first time I had seen a lot of them since my oldest cousin had gotten married. I stood in the reception line between two of my cousins (one girl and one a boy). A number of people seemed to think that my male cousin was either my brother (plausible) or my husband (ummm what?). First of all he looks a lot older than me. Second we look enough a like that it should be obvious we’re related, but it was okay. I had a good laugh about it.

I think my favorite part of the day was hearing about how my other male cousin was introducing himself. He was “Daniel son of Alan son of Alfred of the strong men of Catasauqua and protectors of mayonnaise.” I don’t know why we’re the protectors of mayonnaise, but it seems to fit in with the food we had. 

I am glad that I got to hear about my grandfather and see all of the people who came to the funeral. My father was very insistent that we greet everyone. I am glad he was. I got to ring the church bell with my baby cousin and pretend I was seven years old again. All of us grandchildren visited the old house and saw that the university that had brought it had turned it into an office for the language department. We even recreated a picture we had taken after a party that had taken place before my sister had even been born. There were a lot of memories and stories shared. 

When I got home and looked on my fridge and saw the wedding “Save the Date” card a friend from college had sent me. It reminded me that even though my grandfather had died, life was still going to continue on.  Grandfather was likely watching over me (in his own way) and just waiting for the next randomly hilarious thing to happen. However he will likely start watching my back after he gets through Saint Peter’s books. He never could resist making sure the books were clean.