LJWorld.com

When the movers have come and gone, when the boxes are all unpacked, when books have been shelved and pictures hung on the walls, then begins the three-step process of actually moving in. Step one: Subscribe to the local daily paper. Step two: Buy a plant. Step three: Adopt a cat.

Step one. I couldn't even imagine how I was going to live without The New York Times and the Washington Post - yeah, I got both of them. But neither had home delivery out here in the country, and I refuse to read stuff off of my computer screen while I'm still bleary-eyed and grouchy from waking up on the wrong side of the bed. I asked myself, should I get the Kansas City Star? Absolutely not. I couldn't care less what's happening in Kansas City, which as far as I can tell from local TV news is lots of drug-related shootings and houses burning down. Kansas City is either the crime capital of the world or its reporters don't know how to do anything but police blotter stories. I wasn't even going to take a chance that the Star would give me more of the same.

It only made sense that I should subscribe to the Lawrence Journal-World. In this age, a city this size boasting a daily newspaper at all is a thing to be proud of. But I assumed that I'd only get local news - which would be OK. How else am I going to become part of the community? But how would I get my national and world news fix? I could no longer count on CNN or the network morning "news" shows. By our 7 o'clock, it's their 8 o'clock, by which time they think anyone with a brain has left for work and they resort to tearful victim interviews or cooking and dieting segments. As for NPR radio, when I'm ready to listen to news, they're done with it and playing classical elevator music.

It took me three weeks to buckle down and call for delivery. From day one, I was pleased to see that along with thorough coverage of local issues was a healthy dose of national and international news. And because I didn't have to read through the entire NYT and Post each morning, I got started on my work much sooner.

Step two. Coming cross-country in the dead of winter, there was no way I could bring my plants - a dozen extraordinary specimens lovingly nurtured through 15 years, including my beloved flowering Christmas cactus that also bloomed for Thanksgiving and Groundhog Day. I couldn't find even one plant in all of Lawrence that I liked. Then University Florist offered to order me a large ponytail palm. It took four weeks to come in, but it is a thing of beauty. And as I contemplated acquiring more houseplants, spring arrived and a chorus of plants began blooming outside my windows.

Now for the final step, the hardest one. A cat. My beloved tuxedo cat died of a brain tumor more than a year ago. My pet had attitude - completely devoted and loving with me, but hostile to anyone else who dared enter our home. Before company arrived, I had to lock her in the basement because she would brush up against guests seductively and then suddenly sink her fangs into their legs. Now how do you replace a cat like that?

So I began casing out felines at the Lawrence Humane Society. The first challenge was getting through the dog section without throwing up - I began gagging the first time and had to run out. I soon learned to hold my nose and not breathe until I was safely in the cat room with all the clean, lovely felines. Mysterious tigers, cuddly calicos, exquisite tuxedos. The truth: I only liked the tuxedos, but I'd promised myself I wouldn't get another cat like my dearly departed. It would feel disloyal. But I couldn't help myself. I loved their haunting black and white faces, sleek black coats and prim white gloves and boots. They are so achingly beautiful. (It's like ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends; there's that terrible moment of truth when you discover that you are attracted only to men like him. But what you don't need is another one like him.) So I searched in vain for the opposite: a white cat with just a little dark around the edges. Something totally fresh and new to learn to love.

I checked petfinder.com every day, but seeing photos doesn't do it. You need to look a cat in the eye, stroke its back (if staff isn't looking) and feel that feline disdain in order to know if the match is right. One of these days, I kept telling myself, I'll walk in there and make the connection and know which one is destined to curl up with me on the couch.

Truth be told, I suppose there was more to the search than finding the perfect cat. I needed to be sure that I had found a home - a state that felt like home - to bring a cat into. So weeks went by and I kept going back to the shelter, peering into the cages - how sad for cats to have to live in cages - searching. One day I walked in, and there she was. I knew she was the one, even though she hissed at me when I put her back in her cage after attempting to get acquainted with her. I understood she felt insulted. And so I adopted her, or more accurately, she adopted me. Her name is Sophia, and she's a beauty - silky light beige with dark gray-brown trim and lovely blue eyes. She was comfortable the moment she walked into my house - and so was I.

I guess I've finally completed my move.