A major family crisis—and I slept through it

The Cavaliers--Cricket is the black and white one

They are inseperable

This morning when I raised the blind in my kitchen door, I noticed that the cars in the driveway were all rearranged. I knew Jordan and Christian has been to a big do last night—the American Cancer Society’s Cowtown Ball—and they planned to Uber home. So why were the cars moved? Then I booted my computer and got a chilling message, “Cricket missing. Plz watch for notices on neighborhood newsletter.”

Cricket is the older of their two beloved Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, a placid girl of ten years or more who would never bolt out to explore the world the way Sophie would. But Cricket could wander sort of without knowing what she was doing or where she was going. Still, this morning, the house was quiet, so I figured she was home and safe. In fact, I thought she was probably in some hidden corner of the  house and they just hadn’t searched hard enough. I lost Jacob that way once when he was still a toddler—and after a neighbor and I searched the house and called and called, I had the phone in hand to call the police when I saw him under the dining table.

No such luck with Cricket. Turns out they came home about midnight and sat on the front porch for a nightcap, letting the dogs wander in and out because they had gates across the two sets of stairs. Cricket had apparently slipped by the gate and was gone. There ensued frantic phone calls and driving around the neighborhood. No sign of her. Jordan spent much of the night siting on the front lawn, sobbing, as she waited for Cricket to come home. Got to say Cricket, like our other two dogs, has no street sense, no car sense, and probably couldn’t find her way home from next door.

About five this morning, they got a text. Some good Samaritans had picked her up at the school across the street and taken her home, about a mile away. Christian went to fetch her at ten, and when I saw her Cricket looked blasé, like “What’s the fuss about?”

Of course, that threw the day off. Jordan and Christian were both exhausted from lack of sleep and worry. The errands we planned to do were first postponed to late afternoon and then cancelled. I did go pick up groceries from curbside at Central Market, but I am still in urgent need, of all things, of a block of Velveeta.

But at 9:30, the house is dark, and I assume everyone is sleeping. Jacob missed the excitement because he stayed over at a friend’s house. And that’s another story. At 8:30 last night I let him walk about six blocks to the friend’s house, though he was met halfway. I knew he was safe, because I talked to him after he got there, but I am of the school where you don’t walk alone after dark. It’s a hangover from growing up on the south side of Chicago. So at three a.m., when Jordan and Christian were searching for Cricket, I was lying awake beset with guilt for letting Jacob do something dangerous.

I am clearly too old for all this trauma. May everyone have a peaceful sleep and sweet dreams.

Moving is getting exciting

A friend once took me through the house she was thinking of buying. It was a wreck, with fast food containers thrown in a corner, an awkward arrangement of rooms, you name it. The next time she took me through it, after she’d bought it and remodeled it, it was an absolutely charming cottage with Saltillo tiles, built-in bookcases, French doors, and a functional kitchen. Of course, it was spotless-trash long since gone.

I don’t have that vision, that ability to look at a space and see what it could be. I’ve been arranging the cottage in my mind for weeks but I won’t know what works and what doesn’t until I actually see furniture in it. Jordan, bless her, measured all the furniture and then took me out there to measure the space. I took in everything she said—mostly that my bed is really too big for the space—but I couldn’t envision it. I’ll have to wait till Saturday, which is moving day.

Black Tie Movers are coming at one o’clock. Google them, and you’ll see two rows of young men in white shirts and black ties. Great marketing ploy. I had envisioned sitting in the cottage and regally directing them to put this here and that there. No such luck. I am to nap, while Jordan directs them, and I am not allowed out there until happy hour. I guess in a way it’s a relief—I’ll be surprised by the (semi-) finished product, and we’ll move on from there to see what fits and what doesn’t. I will have one thing that is a great luxury for me—a California-style closet. The closet is spacious, and the built-ins went in today-a marvel of convenience.  I can’t wait to get things in there.

Meantime there’s a lot of work to be done. Profound thanks to Sue Lyon Boggs and Teddy Springfield, who have fed us several meals and helped pack. The other day Teddy packed boxes and boxes of books—and brought the boxes—and today they both arrived with boxes, wrapping paper for pictures, and tape. When they got through, my dressers were empty and my office and bedroom walls bare. Great friends.

And to others who have brought meals. Last night three of my close friends brought supper—a super spinach dip, chicken tetrazzini, and brownies with whipped cream and fresh raspberries. We had a jolly dinner party in the midst of chaos.

I am, as I’m always aware, so blessed by family and friends. And looking forward to having my family, or most of them, here this weekend. Moving is traumatic, now way around that, but we’re making this as smooth as possible.