There's No Title to Describe This--I'm Taking Suggestions

In my last few blogs I discussed the problem we had with raccoons in our chimney and mice in our attic.  Turns out the mice are squirrels.  And my cat Gibby (with a soft G) is training for Wrestle Mania.  Or so it sounds.  And going by the alias, The Headhunter.

At night I can hear slamming and running across the attic floor above my head.  Richard has gone up but finds nothing.

Gibby has gone up—slam, wham—and comes down with a dead squirrel that then shows up on our front lawn without a head.  Thus his alias in the world of wrestling—The Headhunter.

So far we’ve had the raccoons, the squirrels and the ticks.

Ah yes, the ticks.  How the heck do they land on an animal?  Do they fly? Jump?  So many.  They suck the blood out of my dog and cats, plump up, then fall off everywhere.  Richard came in one day and asked why all the blood along the floor?  Looked like someone stepped in some and tracked it through the house.  Yup.  If you can guess it….Richard must have stepped on a blooded up tick, popped it, and then tracked its blood through the house.  DISGUSTING. 

I do believe I’ve mentioned coyotes?  Haven’t seen one yet, but have been instructed by our neighbor to get a shotgun and kill them when I see them in my yard.  Apparently I don’t need a license for the gun or a license to shoot the animal.  Nor do I apparently need to know how to shoot the gun.  Just aim and fire.

Remember the “Billy Club”? 

Pumpkins and Pumpkin HEADS

I haven’t written in ages and SO much has happened.  A lot of good and pretty much a lot of bad too.

The latest event has provided me both material and motivation to blog again.  It’s what Richard termed “the Pumpkin Nor’easter” that dumped a foot of snow over us on October 30 and wiped out our power for five days now.   If you ever wanted to know what Armageddon might be like, you should have been in our town the next morning looking for a cup of coffee. 

I have decided that in addition to the list the government puts out for emergency supplies, I’m including two working bicycles.  Imagine if you couldn’t get gasoline, which was the case Sunday morning.  Imagine if you couldn’t drive down the road because of fallen wires and trees.  At least a bike might make it around these things.

Imagine if you have a mother like mine who has no cell phone, and if she did, wouldn’t know how to use it.  How could you check on her?  This leads me to what I call “the incident.”  It involves a mother, a cell phone, an emergency, and a lot of frustration and anxiety.  Here it is:

Three days into the power outage my mother still would not leave her home to stay with me, who at least had a wood burner, nor would she stay with my brother or sister who both had full power.  She preferred to sleep in her 45 degree house wearing a down coat, hat, and mittens to bed each night.  I got her a cell phone from Target so we could check on her each day and if she needed to contact someone urgently she’d have a means to do so.  She actually used it pretty well the first day she had it and assured me on the second day that she had fully charged it at the doctor’s office.  Mind you she’s been unwell for several months.  Just another added detail to this story.

It was now day four of the power outage and I could not get hold of her nor could my brother or sister.  And she had made no effort to contact us to assure us she was still with us.  I began to panic at about 9:00 am and at the urging of my co-worker called the police to swing by and check on this elderly person, my mother.  I anxiously awaited the call back from the police telling me she was either frozen dead in bed or thawed and alive.  Sure as heck, they made contact with her.  She answered the door in her sleepwear—the down coat, hat and mittens—and told the officers her phone was “not charged.”  Do I believe her??? Not sure.  But she ended up going to a temporary shelter for all of her meals that day at the suggestion of the kind officers.  She LOVED the food and the socializing. She got her power on that night, which I wonder if maybe her attire alerted the police to take some action on her behalf.

The "incident," which I will forever refer to as "the Pumpkin Head Incident," ends with me being the daughter who called the police on her mother.

When last I called her on her cell phone, it just rang and rang.  She says she can't hear it.  Do you think she pressed the wrong button and muted it by mistake?  Maybe a new company is in order:  PumpkinHead Technology.  Not bad.

Making Ends Meet

Part of my new routine is to go to the Laundromat every Saturday morning.  As kids, we’d go with mom and we HATED it.  Now here I am in the supposed 21^st century (though you wouldn’t think so looking at my living conditions) and I’m going there again.

One thing I like is ALL the clothes get done at the same time and while it takes 2 hours or so, I can do errands or wash my car in the adjoining car wash as the clothes tumble and turn.

Now I’ve always admired the women (and men) who stand around so patiently and carefully fold their clothes when they come out of the dryer.  I, on the other hand, simply remove them from the dryer and stuff them in the trash bags I brought them in only to fold them and curse the wrinkles that set in when I return home.

SO…I decided to try it…folding and hanging and smoothing out wrinkles and matching corners of my blankets just like all those other people were doing.  They must find me more horrifying than watching me stuff the clothes in trash bags as I’m dropping articles on the floor and dragging blankets and sheets as I try to fold the monstrosities.  What the heck, I’ll be back again next week with everything.

But I have to admit, going to the laundry is a way of “making ends meet” in more ways than one.  And I’m starting to get good at it.

We are EGGstatic

Richard and I are getting egg laying HENS!!!!  We are so excited.  Getting the Americaunas which lay beautiful pastel, Easter egg-like eggs. 

Richard needs to figure out how to build a coop.  It seems pretty easy.  Just need to find a way to keep them warm in the winter and keep predators away.  I’ve picked out names for them.  You can get 12 chicks for about $15.  Can you believe it???? So my first 12 names are as follows:

Annie
Beatrice
Clementine
Dolly
Ernestine
Gracie
Hattie
Ida
Jenny
Lucy
Myrtle
Nell

All good old farmer wife names.  I LOVE them.  

We should get one egg from each hen each day.  

I’ve already got people lined up to buy them.

Really COOOOOL Story

I have the makings for a Stephen King novel.  It will be based on an old house that gets bought and is in the process of a rehab.  Summer is steaming and the husband finds an air conditioner in the attic, left behind by the previous owners.  Oh thank heavens.  Finally some relief from the heat. 

He puts it in the bedroom window and every night/early morning (probably around 2:00 am) while the a/c is blasting out cool air and, as everyone who has ever owned one can testify to, very loud humming that somehow puts you to sleep anyway, a muffled radio can be heard.  No words or exact music can be made out, but it's definitely a radio.  "Where is it coming from"?  Inside the a/c.

Turns out that there is an evil presence living in the a/c and it draws the people  into it by telling them that life on the inside is heavenly and lulling them with nice music.  So they do as told, stick their finger in the electric socket, and ZAP!!! they now live on the inside of the a/c.  And if you listen closely, you can hear them at night while their radio plays.

True!!!

Slowly but NOT Surly

It’s been awhile since I last posted.  Much has changed.  Our wood floors are NEARLY all in.  Once they are though, the sanding and polyurethaning begins and we’ll have to sleep at mom’s to avoid death by chemical inhalation.

Our kitchen cabinets, ordered June 5 with an anticipated delivery of 4 weeks later, are still not in.  Another 3 weeks or so.  That means we’re still cooking on the grill every night and sometimes in the microwave.  A lot of times it’s just sandwiches.  But once cabinets arrive, we can get our plumbing finalized and add our appliances.

Dog seems accustomed to the place although suffers from her usual separation anxieties a bit more than usual.  And cats are still living at mom’s.  They seem to LOVE it there.  But mom will have nothing to do with keeping them…not that I’d REALLY want her to.

Our bathroom looks good.  Still waiting for a sink.  Richard is working on the claw foot tub he bought off of Craig’s List. Our bathroom is quite large so a tub separate from our shower stall will work beautifully.

I went to Costco and loaded up on safety items such as a fire extinguisher, carbon monoxide detectors, and flood lights for the outside.  It’s DARK out there.  Of course some things must wait until our electric is all complete.  That’s another few weeks away.

We are now sleeping in our true bedroom as opposed to the livingroom.  Just waiting for closets to be completed.  I really want to hang some pictures soon.  We have our blinds on the windows so it’s looking pretty finished.  Still waiting for our dressers to be moved in.  I went and invested some money in making our closets look nice, neat and organized.  Bought those skinny hangars all in the same color.  It does make a difference when you look in there.  And they work well.  Clothes don’t fall off and there is extra room made in the closet for yet MORE clothes which we do not need.

Richard wants hens so we can get fresh eggs.  Each hen lays one each day so we figure two hens are plenty AND you don’t need a rooster.  Whether or not the hen gets “laid,” an egg gets laid.  As if we don’t have enough trouble getting dog a sitter when we’re away.  Imagine my mother getting a dog, two cats and two hens to watch?  I think I’ll tell her that one.

So I think we’re moving along.  Slow but what can you do with just one person working it?

Ain't No Coon Hound

There’s a series of books I just love about “Ladybug Farm.” Three so far and I do hope more. The author is Donna Ball. My friend Mattie doesn’t care for them. Says they’re too predictable and happy. Everything gets tied up in the end and everyone lives happily ever after. Well that’s just how I like life. I like the happily ever after. And that’s just how the coon story ends.

Our baby raccoon (which we named Braveheart)cried all night into the next after his mama left him and took all his siblings. Imagine how awful to be left all alone in the dark. Hungry, frightened, cold, waiting for the return of your mama? We prayed she would return for him. Hoped that she only left him because she was running out of time with dawn breaking and three others babies to hide in a new nest. We both had bad dreams about the coon family. We were actually very upset about the situation.

But “Life is Good.” Mama returned sometime in the night while we were fast asleep and took her last baby home to the nest.

I learned at least one thing from the experience. Our dog is NOT part Red Bone Coon Hound as we once thought.

Mama Come Back!!

I’m very sad today about my coon family. As predicted, once the pheromones were in the chimney, the mama coon began to relocate her babies. According to the Critter Control man, she had four babies in there about the size of a football each. They stay in the nest for 10 to 14 weeks.

This morning at 2:00 she began the relocation. Richard woke me at 4:00am having been awake since the start of the move. She was still going at it. “How many babies are in there” Richard asked. “Four,” I said. “I think there’s more like a dozen,” Richard replied. “She’s been doing this for over two hours.”

And boy was it LOUD. The crashing and the chattering. Yes! Raccoons TALK!  I couldn’t believe the experience. The mama would come for one baby at a time. When she arrived you could hear her grunting and the babies chirping and cooing. When she left, they shrieked. There must have been 6 different sounds they made and different pitches for each.

Richard finally got up at 4:30 to get coffee and he went outside. He could hear the babies she was in the process of relocating down along the side of the yard. Dawn was coming and I feared for the last baby left in the chimney. It sounded like mama came to get him 2 or 3 times but kept leaving. We wonder if she was having trouble getting him out.

Anyhow, she left him. And he’s be crying ever since. I swear it sounds like he’s crying “mama” over and over. We have hope that she’ll come for him tonight, but if she doesn’t, the Critter man will take the baby to a refuge where he’ll be nurtured until he can be released.

I am so distraught over this. I wish I had left them alone.

And another thing, it’s become quite apparent that our dog, up from Alabama, who we googled and thought to be a mix of lab and red bone coon hound is NOT a COON hound. She got into bed with us when it all began. Not a bark, not a look…nothing. She’s simply a rescue dog from the pound and still in need of rescuing.

Tick Talk

YES! A tick fell out of my hair at work. Need I say more?

Rooftop Party at Our House Tonight!!!

Back to our critter problem. Richard now knows what’s living in our fireplace. Not squirrels but raccoons! He was out early one morning and saw this big ass coon staring down at him from the roof. Then as if to say “good night; I’m going to sleep now,” that coon climbed the chimney and disappeared.

I called the wildlife control and spoke to Jessie who plans to come out and rid those coons. I must say I was concerned about babies and Jessie confirmed that it probably was a mother coon with her babes. But what they do is place pheromone scents in the chimney. Pheromones are chemicals excreted by a species that prompt different behaviors depending on the scent, including sexual attraction if you can believe it. So Jessie is putting pheromones that will alarm the mother coon. She’ll go out and get another pad to sleep in, come back and take her babies. Richard just hopes it’s not the other end of our house. At this point, we’d better get a cap on our chimneys.

Someone at Richard’s work suggested blasting music up the chimney. The noise will bother the mother coon and she will presumably leave.

Well that didn’t happen.

Richard went home at lunch and turned the stereo on full blast to rap music. Upon our return that evening, those f’n coons were partying on our roof. I tell you, they were dancing and rapping and throwing acorns at our heads laughing.

Time for pheromones and they’d better be the right scent…not the scent of a sexual male coon because I’ll be living in the raccoon equivalent of the Hugh Heffner Bunny mansion.


"When this old world starts a getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
I'm gonna climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares they drift right into space

Oh on the roof it's peaceful as can be
And there the world below, it don't bother me

No no no no

So when I come home feeling tired and beat
I got to go up where the air is fresh and sweet for me now
I'm far away from the hustling crowd
And all that rat race noise down in the street

Oh on the roof, that's the only place that I know
Look at the city baby
Where you just have to wish to make it so
Lets go up on my roof

And at night the stars, they put on a show for free
And darlin' you can share, share it all with me" - James Taylor

Dumplings for Peonies

I have the sweetest friend Sonya from Taiwan. She has taught me so much of the culture and introduced me to the food that I love so much. She says I was Chinese in another life. She has been a blessing to me during these days of renovation as she often calls me and says, “I cooked last night. Please come over.” And boy does she cook. If she’s stressed, she cooks or bakes.

One day Sonya told me she was making a flower arrangement for her friend’s daughter, also Chinese, and I said, “hey, I have tons of flowers in my yard. They’re growing like weeds and there is no order to the planting. I’d love to give you some.”

So I picked peonies and campanula and who knows what all else. The bouquet was beautiful. She used all the flowers, added a few of her own, and the result was stunning. Both she and her friend were so grateful (for what I don’t know) that they both made me dumplings!!! I have discovered the art of bartering out of my hillbilly house.

The Billy Club

There have been two times in my life when I knew I was destined to become a redneck, a hick, a hillbilly. The first was when I began shopping at Walmart. I hated going there. God forgive me, but everyone looked like they had come out of the hills to shop. I was there for the occasional bargain I might be in need of, and one day when the store manager announced, "Attention Walmart shoppers!" I stopped what I was doing and looked up. It was then I realized I had become one.

The second time we had trees taken down in our yard and lots of brush was laying about. Richard said he was going to build a firepit. So I went along with it and you know what? It was pretty fun! We burned small pieces of wood and brush and sat around the pit in the dark, drinking beers in our pajamas.

Now a third and final(I hope) instance has occurred. Living in the hillbilly shack that we do, the deck covered with tools and tarps and empty wine bottles. I shuffled out to get the attention of the garage door repairman who had walked around front. Standing there hunched over (I pulled out my back), just out of bed with bed head, Richard's slippers and robe on, yelling "HELLLLOOO, HELLOO!" The construction workers next door stopped to look over at me and all that was missing was the bottle of beer in one of my hands and a cigarette in the other. They must have thought, "wonder where she keeps the moonshine."

So I am officially a member of the Hillbilly Club. Come join me on my "deck" and we'll drink in our bathrobes and slippers.

Handyman DANDYman

Yesterday was my dad’s anniversary of going off to Heaven. While he wasn’t much of a handyman, he did always insist on the best of quality. And that’s one of the things I learned from him. Which is why I married Richard and became this handyman’s wife.

Why am I a handyman’s wife? Because Richard couldn’t survive without a project. And thank goodness for me because he has renovated or simply improved all of our homes—those we’ve lived in and those we’ve rented to others.

And whether it’s luck or talent on both of our parts, we’ve always had multiple offers when selling. People like the look and feel of our homes.

Honestly, this new one is beyond my senses. I must post pictures, but, you just don’t get the feel unless you’re IN it. Then your mouth drops and you stare around and are happy to go back to your home, all the while shaking your head and professing how pathetic we were to get ourselves into such a “project.” That’s why people like camping. They can play rough and rugged knowing that at the end of it all they are returning to a hot shower and clean bed with food in the refrigerator that they can toss in the microwave.

I agreed to Richard buying this house on the premise that we’d be living at my mother’s for a year or so. And this “project” would give him an escape on the weekends. When it was finished, we’d move in or sell it, and my impression was we’d sell it.

Oh well, “Nothing is certain but death and taxes,” as my mother often told me. I do know that Richard will make a beautiful home for me. And I do know that paint colors, new fixtures and flooring will bring the warmth in. So I must just be patient.

This morning Richard walked through the mess that at one time must have been lovely gardens and picked a magnificent bouquet of peonies and other flowers I must learn the names of.

My Richard is not just a handyman…he’s a DANDYman. I love him!

11 + 11 = 22 1/2

A little complicated so listen closely. Our address used to be 13 Adams Way. Then they added houses to the street and had to renumber two houses. Our address became 11 Adams Way and our neighbor, who was number 11, now became number 9 Adams Way. The guy won’t change his address. REFUSES!!! Says he’s been number 11 forever and not about to change that.

The fire marshall went to his house…got nowhere.

So the mailman has two mailboxes labeled number 11, but at least we have our name plastered on the side so he will hopefully distinguish between us. Which indeed he has. He writes with a big red marker on our neighbor’s mail #9!!!!

We had pizza delivered to our house and had to be very specific with the delivery boy which # 11 he was to deliver to.

The best though is when I called for cable to be hooked up. The company won’t do it because there is a delinquent bill. I explained, “not our bill,” and then the address situation. “OK,” she said “Come into the office with proof that you’re living at #11 and we’ll disconnect the other #11 and hook you up.” Oh boy I thought. This will surely start the feud.

Richard being the man he is went to tell our neighbor. Give him a heads up. What does neighbor say? “I WON”T change my address. Can’t you tell the cable company that you’re # 11 ½"?

What is wrong with people? Lord help us if there is ever an emergency at either one of our # 11’s.

How Dumb Can I Be

After moving in with mom I got busy cleaning windows, shopping, cooking, helping her organize cabinets.  I took her to the bank, made sure Richard and I went to the laundry mat instead of using her washer and dryer, washed dishes by hands as she didn’t like to use her dishwasher.  I thought I was being really helpful.  Apparently not.

Richard worked on our house from 7:00 am until he went to his “real work” at about 2:00 pm.  He got home to mom’s at about 11:00 pm.  Same routine every day.

 I went to work at 7:00 am and got home at 6:00 pm; “never the twain shall meet.”

Then he got switched to regular hours.  Hooray for our marriage!!!!  I don’t have to say to him on Sunday nights anymore, “See you next Saturday.”

Well something started to eat at mom.  Maybe it was the dog and 2 cats being with her all day.  Whatever it was mom had enough.  And she didn’t come out and say it.  She just made odd remarks.    Stopped eating whatever I made for dinner and opted for a sandwich instead….weird.

We took the hint and left.  I don’t think she has any idea to this day what we’re living like.  But I hope I’m a little grateful for what I have in light of all the earthly disasters lately.

It does gnaw at me that she’s sleeping comfortably in a clean house that has television and running water while I’m walking on nails in the floorboards and rummaging through boxes for the next thing I’m in need of.

 I just hope it doesn’t rain because that would REALLY depress me.

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

My father use to scream at us kids, "Knock it off up there.  Stop the jumping around."  I really don't know what we were doing.  There wasn't much room upstairs to jump around. And why couldn't we just have fun?

Friday night Richard and I were getting ready to fall asleep and having set up our bedroom in the livingroom for the time being are kind of up against the chimney.  Obviously there was somthing living in there and my guess is squirrels.  They were chattering away.  It was actually cute and since the flu was closed, we had no worry of them getting in.  Eventually we'd get around to removing them.

Next night instead of chattering, we heard the pounding of footsteps.  Like those dang squirrels were playing basketball--boom, boom, boom across the floor.  "Knock it off up there!"

Bare Necessities

“Look for the bare necessities

The simple bare necessities

Forget about your worries and your strife

I mean the bare necessities

Old Mother Nature's recipes

With just the bare necessities of life”

Remember that song from Walt Disney's Jungle Book?  It makes me want to dance like big old Baloo.  Swing my big old butt around.

OK, what are the bare necessities?  Health, family, FRIENDS!!!!

And today I’m thanking all my wonderful friends who have in some way helped me in this life transition—from comfort to camping.

There’s Teras and Le Duc, a wonderful couple in Vermont.  Don’t you love the names? They’ve asked me to come spend the weekend with them any time and they’ll have a hot shower, clean bed, and great company for me.

How about Mattie and Esh in California?  I’ve already spent a week with them.

Maggie in Somerville who is recuperating from her own disaster, a fall that left her with a broken shoulder.  She continues to show interest in how I’m doing, remembering that everybody has a cross to bear.  I hope I’m as helpful to her during her recovery.

Jamie in Salem has listened to me cry with patience and has given me good psychological stuff to think about.  He has always calmed me.

I could go on and on, but I guess what I want to say is “THANK YOU” all for being part of my life.  Those I mentioned above and those I haven’t who I hope know are in my heart always.

Let me not end without a big hug and kiss to Richard.  He has been so kind duringall of this (so far anyway)--never getting annoyed with me for being so mopey. Always motivated, energized, and ready to tackle the project at hand.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. Pitiful. Hey, kid. You need help, and ol' Baloo's gonna learn ya to fight like a bear."

- Baloo

There are Always Those Less Fortunate Than Yourself....

Thanks Melody!!! I loved this video.  This COULD be my dream home.  But I need to allow for TWO cats and a dog.  No problem.  No kids!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Y15dxUZN3s

Who's the less fortunate in this blog?  You decide.

Man AND Nature

Sometimes the phrase "Man versus Nature" makes sense.  But for me and my observations in my life, it's more like "Man and Nature."

Richard set up our bedroom in the livingroom.  It's the only room that has floors we didn't have to tear up.  Our bed faces a lovely picture window, and since we sit high on a hill, no one can see in from the street.  Good thing too because our window shade doesn't work.  It's beautiful to look out over the trees. 

Last Saturday night Richard set out to hook up our tv to a dvd as we have no cable.  Imagine that?  We thought we'd watch a movie, "The Fighter" or "Mama Mia" were our choices.  You can imagine which would have won had our tv not been so old as to not HAVE a dvd hookup.  So I read instead and Richard ate a sandwich.

Last night there were tornado warnings throughout the state and one indeed touched down quite a ways from us, so no worry.  But I could hardly keep from wishing that one would blow right through our house and take the entire thing away.  I'm not tempting fate here and I surely do pray for all those who have ever experienced a tornado.  I truly hope I never do.

So where is this all leading?  No tv, but plenty of side effects from the storm system.  The sky was flickering constantly with the glow from lightning, and now and then bolts of lightning crossed the sky.  I shut the lights out, lay in bed, and watched out my picture window at what resembled a Disney light show.  Only this was nature.  Beautiful.

This morning my mom whole heartedly agreed to take dog for the day.  I was so happy that dog wouldn't be home alone again.  And mom seemed to really miss dog.  Again, that nature stuff.

As we left the house for work, there were three HUGE wild turkeys in our yard.  Squaking or whatever it is they do.  I thought how awesome.  We'll shoot the biggest for Thanksgiving!  NOT!  We just stared and laughed.

Got to work to take my shower and a young gal was staring into the sink with a paper towel in hand.  "What's wrong," I asked.  "There's a huge spider and I'm afraid to kill it," she said.  I took a look and it was a daddy long legs.  Now I think I read once that they aren't spiders.  And I've often heard that it's bad luck to kill one. 

When I got out of the shower the gal had gone, but the spider was still in the sink.  I don't think he could get out.  So I got a paper towel and guess what.....instead of squishing him I got him up on the towel and out of the sink and someplace safe, I hope.  Though Richard said instead of drowning in the sink someone probably stepped on him.

My stepdaughter Stacy had a mother cat scratch at her door three or four times during the evening.  Each time Stacy found a kitten.  Then when all were safe inside, mama cat came in too.  Stacy found homes for all of them but kept the "runt" who she is desperately trying to keep alive as we all know runts have a tendency to be very weak.

I read a piece in the newspaper that this is the season for turtles to lay their eggs.  They often times are crossing the street to get to where they want to be.  The article asked us to all be careful for the next few weeks and watch for them in the road.

I could go on and on about the way man and nature unite.  But I know you could too.  So I end now and remind you that "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

Walking Valentine

I just have to document this wonderfully optimistic woman before I forget the conversation I had with her.  It's Richard's mom Paula.  And my sister Esh refers to her as a "walking valentine" as she is so full of love and happiness and support.  She never has a bad word to say about anyone or anything.  She sees the sun through every cloud.

Richard and I phoned Paula from the mosquito infested yard this past weekend....our first night actually staying at home.  I, half cocked just trying to cope with what was my destiny, actually found some humor in the whole situation so when I talked with Paula, was very light hearted about it all.  And picking up on my que she exclaimed nothing but happiness for us.

I told her while we didn't have a toilet, we at least had the next door neighbor's port-a-potty while their house was being constructed.  "Ohhh.  That's great.  So convenient,"  Paula said.   I didn't tell her I actually preferred the plastic lined cement bucket or hanging my butt over the edge of the deck.

We have no shower to clean the insect repellent from our bodies before bed I told her.  "Ya know what you can do....You must have a garden hose.  Richard can hold a towel up for you for privacy and you can shower and then you can do the same for him."

We put a utility sink down cellar and we can actually brush our teeth at night.  "See how things are coming along"?

We have 30 cans of paint we have to get rid of by emptying the paint and drying it all out before dumping it.  "You could take those cans to the paint store and see if they can tint them or make another color for you that you might like to use."

I slept well that night. Except when I got up to use the bucket and tripped over Richard's tools and skinned my knee like a child.  Thank God my head didn't go through the mirror that was sitting right there.

Dog Days

I'm taking a break today from the "history" of my current dilemma and remembering my first week at work after moving into my "new" ""home.""  I double qouted home you'll notice.

With no shower and only a sink in the basement, grooming is a definite issue.  Richard and I go to the basement together at night with one of those lights you can carry

around or hang from someplace.  I don't know what they're called.  I think mechanics use them.  But it's better than a candle.  We brush our teeth, wash with a cloth, and head to bed.  The only place that is somewhat clean and comfortable.

So when Monday morning came, I with my overnight suitcase filled with toiletries, a towel, and underwear, drove to work to shower at the gym there.  My clothing was piled on my front seat.  I had taken much of my workwear out of the closet at mom's, but there was yet no rod in our house to hang them from.  Richard assured me he would hang one once the paint inside the closet dried.  I'm patient, so I said "no problem."

When I got to work, I shuffled through what was packed on the seat, chose an outfit, realized I had forgotten my shoes and only had flip flops to wear, changed my outfit to pants to hide somewhat my afflicted feet, showered and began work.  And it's really bad when work is just as uncomfortable as home, at least mentally.  There is no place to feel safe and happy.  So I cried some more.

Mind you, my entire commute I cried.  I've never felt so gross and displaced in all my life.  Plus my dog is heartsick at being left behind.  Last week I took her to work three days.  No one was in the office so it was easy for me to check on her in the car every hour and let her walk a bit.  And don't worry.  she had plenty of water, was in the shade, and windows were open.

I am currently searching for dog sitters/walkers/day care.

Richard called to surprise me with two workers coming next weekend to help him on the house.  I think I'm getting a sliding door to the dilapitated deck and some flooring so we can begin to focus on getting a kitchen.

Dare to Care

It began nearly one year ago when my mother had a minor stroke.  She recovered, thankfully, but throughout the next several months, she felt weak, dizzy, not herself.  November came and Richard and I thought she might feel happier if she lived with us, at least through the winter months.  We had tons of room.  She actually agreed but only stayed Monday through Thursday nights, was gone most of the day doing her "stuff" and come Friday she'd head home and await my brother's weekly visit on Saturday through Sunday.  She liked her own home, own space, independence.  Who wouldn't?

But she still was not herself, and I worried about her living alone all week.  What to do?

The answer came in the form of Sunset Magazine. Thank you Melody. I think it was the January issue about downsizing.  I was so motivated that I began cleaning every drawer and closet in our 2400 sf home.  Realizing once and for all that we were living in way too much space, Richard and I played with the idea of selling our home for a smaller one.  But HEY, maybe my mother would want us to live with her and help her out for awhile, until she got well or "otherwise."  I could cook, clean, do errands, and give her a little company to boot.  After all she had mentioned on several occassions that her house was too much for her, she wasn't cooking anymore (eating sandwiches mostly). 

Good for her.  Good for us...we could save a few bucks and look for a small home eventually.

And guess what....she agreed to it!!!!

Why else would anyone believe this was a sensible, acceptable idea and actually do it?  As I found out later, most felt in their hearts this would not work at all.