Happy Days Are Here Again!

Let's hope they stay a while.

The man has been gone for over two weeks. Which means he returns SOON! I can make it. Taking care of the pool again today, it’s been a week - time for more acid and baking soda. I’m feeling confident. I am Woman, hear me ROAR! (Umm, not that I won’t be happy to hand some of this back over to him, but it’s nice to know I’ve still got it, it’s just a bit rusty.)

Before we get to his pictures of Tasmania, let’s get to pictures of ME! Here I am, holding my quilt top that has now been finished and is ready to go to some sweet child in the ICU. I hope they like it. The second photo is the one I finished last week, it’s waiting to be bound by the Binding Fairy. (I’m not in that skill group yet.)

It’s such a nice group of women. We meet in a house, all the machines are set up in the basement. Before quilting, we briefly talk, have a prayer, then cautiously make our way down the steep staircase and turn on the lights and machines, plug in the iron and start sewing, each with our own spot but close enough to continue to chat.

One woman admired my shoes and said “I look to see what you’re wearing every week. I LOVE your shoes. Where do you find them?” They laughed several times at my stories of mayhem this week. Some of us are getting together on Memorial Day to help the leader go through a lot of donated material in boxes in her garage - she needs to get her car back inside.

Well. Why am I so worried about moving to Tasmania? I met these women and within a couple of months, we feel like friends. Maybe not ‘Go Out and Walk Every Morning Together’ friends, like my wonderful next door neighbor, but it’s a community of sorts and we mesh over quilting. Surely it will be the same wherever I go - even Tasmania.

I just have to get out of the house and not expect too much too soon. (That’s where I made my mistake when we lived in Christchurch, NZ in 1999. Oy. Another story for another day. Let’s just say I felt deep sympathy for Meghan Markle in her first year and would have made an excellent adviser for her instead of whoever the Queen assigned.)

My sister flies in from Pasadena today for a short visit. My family members have been fabulous, upbeat, calming - truthfully, I think a little worried that I will sink back into whatever that was after early retirement. How lucky am I to have a sister who will fly from California for a visit while I’m lonely, and another sister who will spend loads of time on the phone with me discussing the angst of a big move at 62 - so different from when I felt excited to leave Georgia for the Army and Germany.

Life looks so different at 30 and 62. You’re the same person in your head, but as the years pass, you want to hang on instead of let go. - sometimes hanging on to an okay present familiarity and missing a possibly GREAT new thing. Leaping into the unknown is tough when you have major control issues and a bit - HAH! understatement - of anxiety. I have this picture of me hanging on to my trapeze in a death grip to go back to my old post instead of swinging bravely through the air to something new.

My parents are encouraging and positive. My brother and sister in law, who live about two miles from me, invite me over for dinner often, especially when my niece and nephews are in town. We had lunch together Sunday after church and they wanted to know all about the trip, our plans, and I wanted to hear about my nephew’s job and his new puppy.

I’m putting a positive spin on it today. After lunch on Sunday, I have to confess I was a little weepy, thinking about how I won’t be able to just get in my car and drive to see my family after we move. I will definitely come back for big family events and holidays, but it will take some planning and a good sleep aid for the long plane rides.

But why am I complaining? How much harder for people who left their homes and traveled by BOAT to Australia back in the day. I’ll bet they didn’t come back for YEARS, if ever. They could only keep in touch by letters that also had to travel by ship. I’ll have Zoom and all types of apps. Not the same as hugs and physical contact, but better than snail mail.

I should probably warn my family that I will need continuous and long hugs often when I’m back in country so I can store them for rainy days. Realistically, we’ll be here a while - deciding on what to do with the house, down sizing, and, most importantly, completing the paperwork for me.

ANYWAY, on to the photos.

I made a rookie mistake and booked The Man into an isolated spot with a great view, forgetting that he was on a fact finding mission, not a romantic vacation with me. But you can see the appeal.

He’s travelled all over the Huon River Valley, and so far Cygnet is the big winner, although we’ll see if that stays the same after his visit to Franklin.

It’s quaint, isn’t it? I love the extra touches of trees planted in carefully in well placed brick areas - they could just have easily gone for a plain old cement parking lot and gotten in a couple more cars. And the older buildings make me happy. I love my history, and Tasmania seems proud to preserve and remember their past. Lots of art galleries and guilds. (He’s checking to be sure there are things for me to do within very easy driving distance. I need to up my painting game.)

And a cafe is a must, as well. Cygnet has everything and is close to Huonville, which has doctors, dentists, larger grocery stores - similar to my parents’ set up in the North Georgia mountains.

Also, it’s a CIDER producing area. One of the things I miss about New Zealand - the hard, dry cider. Ours in the US is way too sweet for me. Apples sold on the side of the road and local hard ciders in the restaurants. Sounds yummy. I think New Zealand has Australia beat in the Ginger Nuts category, though. Tasmania ginger nut cookies are small, not the hearty dipping in the coffee ones I had every morning and night with my tea.

There’s a local Catholic school that serves the whole valley. Liking the trees, and again - the red brick sidewalk. They’ve created a very livable space, if pictures can be believed. (I’ve learned, from the real estate sites, that pictures sometimes lie a little, but my husband confirms that these pictures are for real.)

This is just a shot he took of the sports field, but he wanted to show me that the large hills surround the valley and you always have a nice view of them. The sports fields are all together and well kept.

I THINK this is Huonville. Trees, brick sidewalks, and I don’t see a lot of litter blowing around, bonus! Well kept towns are the best.

He took this one driving out of his AirBnB in Nicholls Rivulet. I wanted to see the trees. I love trees, and nature walks are one of the ways I reduce stress. He’s excited about the roads - lots of good ones for his motorcycle. And there’s a rowing club - one for men, one for women - so I can paddle down the Huon with ladies, maybe it will be similar to getting together for quilting. Although, umm, I think my arms will get a much better workout.

No noise of airplanes overhead. We live in the middle of a good sized town, and I can hear helicopters, fire engines, ambulances and the booming bass notes coming from music aficianados while they are detained at the stop light. There are things that I WON’T miss, along with the ones I’ll pine over. Maybe I’ll concentrate on what I’m getting instead of what I’m losing.

It’s a good day. I have no doubt that I will continue to weep as I work through this, but I am also happy that I am starting to see the up side.