Four Chairs

Another season of lawn chairs at Target. . . . .I return, convinced it’s just a question of fitting the chairs over the passenger seat. . . .

But once in the store with my shopping cart, I find it enough of a struggle just to get four chairs through checkout (the legs took down a credit card swipe machine, a rack of magazines and breath mints). I arrive at the pedestrian crossing in the parking lot, but now the chairs begin to fall and the cart goes into a death spin.



Pickups go by, their drivers somewhat irritated that I chose the crosswalk for shopping cart drama. No one offers to help. Finally, I arrive at the Mustang. Don’t bother with the trunk. It’s barely holds groceries. I try the passenger side—seat reclining, all the way forward. There is no way these chairs will go in the car.

Within 15 minutes, I am at customer service with my receipt in hand. What, an exchange already? Yes. The chairs don’t fit in my trunk, and the store does not deliver. Do you want us to hold them for you? No!

Six weeks later, my sister plans a visit in her van. Cargo van, did you say? She offers to meet me at Target but tells me not to get there too early. She’s still on I-95.

The Target checkout line is moving slowly. Once again, the chairs are in a precarious balance in the cart. I don’t want them to fall on the turbulent children behind me or the lady from Norway in front. The cashier seems oblivious to my plight and wants to welcome the foreigner to American soil. Please, no small talk now. Because the chairs will take out your swipe machine and breath mints and possibly the foreign lady too.

The Demise of the Close--Not Just Yet

Taken from Gallica, the photo shows Peiresc's signature in a letter from the 1630s.



In an article in Slate, End Email Signoffs, the author questions the closings of emails, especially things like warm, kind or fond regards.

For many of us, the use and type of close depends on the circumstances (formal v. informal) or tone. Business or job letters, exchanges with a state or federal agency (where email is a matter of public record) need a close (“sincerely” works great). In informal exchanges, I’ll use “all the best” to avoid an abrupt tone that implies I am far too busy to be bothered with courtesy.

I have personal reasons for some closings. My tango friends sign as “tango hugs,” which translates we can’t wait to see one another at the next milonga. One friend and I sign our emails exchanges as “your friend and fan,” shorthand for our years as colleagues and continued encouragement in creative ventures. My family and I use the “xoxo.” My kids don’t.


I devoted most of my research to a study of a 17th-century natural philosopher, Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc, known for his extensive use of letters to spread the new science. He often signed his lengthy missives with a short close--“your humble servant.” Admittedly, I will lament the loss of historical documents. . . . .But I digress.

The trend favoring a shorter close has impacted even the French. For years I struggled to perfect the “Veilllez-agréer, Monsieur, l’expression de mes sentiments distingués” to learn that now it has been replaced by “cordialement” in formal settings or “amicalement” or “A+” for friends, if anything at all.


Although the author of the article proposes ending email signoffs “forever,” I’m not ready to relinquish it altogether. At least, not yet.


How do you sign your emails?

Project House or House Projects - LIKE, COMMENT. . .

Some young FB friends just posted they bought a project house. Do I press LIKE? Do I comment, "Been there, done that”? Projects mean longer days and rooms in perpetual disarray and unpleasant surprises. A feeling of accomplishment? At what price?




I have lived in a house without water or electricity (not by choice), painted interiors and exteriors, and I have broken water pipes and cut cables (by accident).




Recently, I decided to hire a contractor for some projects The contract stipulated the worksite would be cleaned at the end of each day and that the work would be completed by a specified date. Ah, no buckets, no brushes, no cement mixers and shoves around the yard. Day 1, no one came. Day 2, they left a trailer, blocking my garage. Day 3, they stayed just long enough to leave a mess. Day 3, I am starting to have second thoughts.

In the meantime, my kids are involved in major house projects. Refinishing wood floors (they ended by calling in the pros), painting. . . . some plaster, electricity, lots of challenges. They told me they are tired of living out of boxes for extended periods. They never want to see another bucket of paint, hear the pounding of hammers or the grinding of sanders. They are coming to visit for vacation.

My small worksite has been completed in time for their visit. Well, almost. The guest bathroom is still in a state of disarray. These small projects that I no longer see—the layers of contact paper on the shelves and the patched hole in the wall where the plumber repaired a leaky shower. Today, I finished those projects with a slight feeling of accomplishment.




Maybe the young FB friends will have that same feeling. LIKE!