Lists by Annette Dashofy

Depending on what time you’re reading this on Sunday, April 27, I’ll either still be at Malice Domestic in Bethesda, Maryland, or I’ll be on my way home. The Agathas will have been awarded. Not to me, since I’m not nominated this year, but perhaps to one of our other fabulous Writers Who Kill. I don’t know, because as I’m writing this, none of it has happened yet. I’m still in the process of packing and preparing. 

I’m not doing a lot of traveling this year for a number of reasons, but I have two conferences fairly close together. First is Malice, then next month will be the Pennwriters Conference. No matter how many trips I’ve taken in past years, the first one after a long layoff is always a challenge. 

It’s like I’ve never packed for three nights before! What will I forget? Will I have to stop on the way or leave the hotel to find a store to purchase some necessary item? 

So I’m making a list. Checking it twice. Three times? Four? And it’s not simply the stuff I need to take with me. Shoes. Pajamas. Coordinated outfits proper for a business convention. Toothbrush. Makeup. Books that the bookseller couldn’t get and I have to place on consignment. My computer. And—oh, my gosh, don’t forget—the charger cords! 

No, there are also the things I need to prepare for my husband and cat in order for them to survive while I’m gone. Groceries that don’t take too much preparation. A daily lineup of the pills my husband takes. And a sufficient supply of the pills he has to give Kensi. 

Speaking of, there needs to be a list of instructions of what to feed her when. What time she gets said pills. Emergency numbers… 

Okay, maybe my cat isn’t the only one who suffers separation anxiety. I mean, just because I demand a daily proof-of-life photo of Kensi while I’m away doesn’t mean anything. Right? 

Oh, and the shoes I mentioned earlier? I bought two new pairs. You’d think I’d know better by now. Break shoes in before wearing them at a conference. But no. My old shoes are scuffed beyond reason. They’ve been delegated to grocery shopping trips. I have been teetering around the house wearing my yoga pants and my new heels, trying to determine if they’re comfortable enough for the long walk from the hotel to the conference center (under the same roof, but still a long hike). I think I’ll stuff a pair of comfy flats in a tote bag to carry with me to the banquet and switch right before I enter the ballroom. 

Although this trip will be all but over by the time you read this, I do have that second one coming up. I’d love to hear your advice for packing and for dealing with the family and pets left behind.

 

 

We're Moving (Again!) by Nancy L. Eady

So, I’ve done everything humanly possible to make sure this didn’t happen. I didn’t change the shelf paper in the kitchen cabinets (we don’t have shelf paper in the kitchen cabinets for exactly that reason. My dishes and glasses haven’t suffered for lack of it.) We made sure we weren’t traveling on New Year’s Day. (This superstition may be restricted to my family, where we firmly believe that if you travel on New Year’s Day, you will move during the next year. I can’t even tell you where it started.)

When we moved into this house in May 2021, I swore it would be my last move ever. I even made sure I got to that last box that never gets unpacked and unpacked it over a year ago. And yet here we are – about to go through the whole moving process one more time.

After a long search, my husband has taken a job in another city about two hours north of where we live now. I’m not fond of the moving process, but I don’t mind where we’ll end up, becasue my mother and one of my sisters and her family live there. But I dread putting the house on the market, waiting for it to sell, packing up and moving, then looking for another house and moving into it, and spending hours unpacking again.            

My husband had a good idea to help with unpacking – invite all of my family over for Christmas dinner and to open gifts. Once we’ve finished with the gifts, we’ll tell them since they’ve gotten so good at unwrapping things, we have a surprise—and hand out boxes for unpacking. We could even throw in a “Dirty Santa” twist, where people get to swap the boxes before opening them. (Okay, we’ll probably not do that, but it was fun to think about!)

Late this spring, I went to my mom’s house and dug up several irises descended from irises my grandmother used to grow in Massachusetts and planted them on one side of the house. I figured since they didn’t bloom this spring, they wouldn’t bloom this fall. But two days ago, I walked outside and Grandma Caulfield’s irises were blooming. I thought it was a sweet way for the old house to wish me and my family well as we start this journey yet again.

What is your least favorite part of moving? Do you have a good story about moving? Any advice? I'd love to hear it.