My mother had calling cards. Yes, really. Engraved calling cards. In those days women paid formal calls upon each other. There was always a small silver tray in the front hall, where the calling cards were deposited.
And there were certan hours when a woman was "at home"...which meant one could call upon her.
Now we have business cards, printed, not engraved, and they have our cell phone number and our email address and they look quite, well, businessy, not at all like my mother's.
Nonethess, I am now "at home." In my new home. Several neighbors ave come to call, to introduce themselves, and they have come wearing jeans and sneakers and apologizing for the gardening dirt under their fingernails. Times have changed.
The dog was terrified at first, of the strange yard, probably because I had had an underground fence installed, encircliing it, and he got zapped when he checked out the boundaries. Now, though, he is in full command; he lies on the front porch observing, and he seems happy with his new home....