Something has been weighing heavily on me all week.
An impossible situation arose, with no resolution: In the busy days of the move and wrapping up the Town House, I missed an important deadline at work.
I was worried sick about it, and each day the unresolved issue continued, I felt worse. I tend to be extremely hard on myself anyway so this issue became a bigGER deal as the days passed.
I bow my head each day and pray for others but I couldn't bring myself to pray for a resolution to my problem, even when I am in need. I couldn't sleep, and was saying wicked, hateful things to myself.
By Wednesday I had had enough! I asked for help to resolve the issue and to forgive myself for the mistake. Almost immediately my mind felt clearer, and I doubled down and worked through everything else on my desk with a glimmer of hope that a resolution might appear.
Wednesday and Thursday passed slowly and quietly, believing whatever was meant to happen would happen, even if it turned out to be no help at all. But how I hoped otherwise!
Today arrived and when I walked in to work, the first thing out of my co-worker's mouth was, You are not going to believe this, but I just got off the phone and the situation you were beating yourself up about can be resolved: this is what you need to do right away ...
And I did, and it was, and by the grace of God it's over.
Aug 31, 2012
The Show
There's been a lot of talk of disillusionment this week at the RNC, as though it has been invented by the current administration and they are responsible for the whole of it since the inception of mankind.
I understand that Obama has contributed to the mood, but in my home he is not the topic of conversation. What is a topic here is a lost home, a found one, a precarious job climate and an uncertain retirement. Obama didn't create those, they came with the job.
There is no doubt Obama is an orator, but he delivers economic and cultural news like a stern father out of work and having to tell his children the summer trip to Disneyland is off. I am surprised that he has not been much of a Drum Major with colorful and fine plumage, strutting out front in long strides and championing our power and glory to the world. I think he may not share his country's strong sense of entitlement, but I have never believed he does not deeply love this country.
His efforts have been heartfelt and earnest with many sleepless nights contemplating each and every turn of the bend and the best direction to steer the country. It has not been an easy row to hoe with all the issues in play, and I will state honestly and openly that had John McCain earned the chair we would be in even worse shape.
Back to the NRC. It felt gOOd to sit and listen in dreamy wonderment and hyperbole the boyish enthusiasm that cheered me up like a great big bar of smooth chocolate making those happy endorphens jump for joy. Yayyyy to America!
And what a show it was. Americans are arrogant beings, and the RNC played into that with its high sense of self-importance.
But it was nice to hear they would try. We have sorely missed being told our leaders 'get it' and care about something other than finishing up their term with their skin. For Americans, it's always been about fighting the good fight so we feel good about ourselves.
In the Obama camp of friends, I am hearing a lot of things: that it wasn't his fault he was stonewalled into a lameduck Presidency for nearly all 4 years; that he tried a lot of legislation that was trampled and left for dead on the House and Senate floors; and that even for reprisal ideas he has presented that were originally Republican ideas, they were voted down because his name was attached.
History is not going to take that into account. So although yes yes yes to all of the above, one of his chief failings is in not commanding the respect his position deserves. He has been openly challenged on the House and Senate floors, spit at and disparaged in public. Who do we think we are to disrespect The Office of the President? An Equal? Not I, said the duck.
In the Republican camp of friends here in California, the news is astonishingly rude; that he is an unAmerican, black muslim outsider who does not love and believe in our country; a man whose values and integrity sympathize with our enemies; a man who is remaking America in his own image which is a Godless, unAmerican place.
That's a pretty big assertion for a man who can't even get legislation passed, to have the clout and power to reshape an entire country in one term and steal its soul. I think the people saying these things are representing the least American values of all.
I listen to how threatened and intolerant they are to different beliefs, cultures and backgrounds. What it comes down to in my book is these people want the White House to mirror their views and nothing more, which is impossible given the cultural complexity of our great nation. I don't know about you, but I vote in who I hope to be the best person for the job. And if I wanted me for the job, I would be on the ballot.
The loudest voices seem to be the least informed on political matters, and they instead adopt propaganda from the radio and news as their own view. They do not participate in this amazing opportunity in a country that welcomes their voice. They don't want to work to make a differenceL what they really want is the show.
I think we all would do well with some hot chocolate and a nap before we decide.
 |
| To date the research has identified molecules in chocolate, a variety of berries and foods containing omega-3 fatty acids that are structurally similar to valproic acid. Valproic acid is the active chemical in drugs presently prescribed to smooth out mood swings in bipolar disorder and other mood disorders. |
I understand that Obama has contributed to the mood, but in my home he is not the topic of conversation. What is a topic here is a lost home, a found one, a precarious job climate and an uncertain retirement. Obama didn't create those, they came with the job.
There is no doubt Obama is an orator, but he delivers economic and cultural news like a stern father out of work and having to tell his children the summer trip to Disneyland is off. I am surprised that he has not been much of a Drum Major with colorful and fine plumage, strutting out front in long strides and championing our power and glory to the world. I think he may not share his country's strong sense of entitlement, but I have never believed he does not deeply love this country.
His efforts have been heartfelt and earnest with many sleepless nights contemplating each and every turn of the bend and the best direction to steer the country. It has not been an easy row to hoe with all the issues in play, and I will state honestly and openly that had John McCain earned the chair we would be in even worse shape.
Back to the NRC. It felt gOOd to sit and listen in dreamy wonderment and hyperbole the boyish enthusiasm that cheered me up like a great big bar of smooth chocolate making those happy endorphens jump for joy. Yayyyy to America!
And what a show it was. Americans are arrogant beings, and the RNC played into that with its high sense of self-importance.
- We ARE the greatest country in the world, and do GOOD THINGS to maintain and bring PEACE in the world.
- It is our burden to make THE WORLD'S decisions for them.
- We CAN recapture the innovation to again produce the world's GOODS AND SERVICES because we were on the ground floor during the INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION and it is OURS.
- We are GOOD and JUST and WORTHY
- And now, byGod, God's on our side if you vote for R&R.
But it was nice to hear they would try. We have sorely missed being told our leaders 'get it' and care about something other than finishing up their term with their skin. For Americans, it's always been about fighting the good fight so we feel good about ourselves.
In the Obama camp of friends, I am hearing a lot of things: that it wasn't his fault he was stonewalled into a lameduck Presidency for nearly all 4 years; that he tried a lot of legislation that was trampled and left for dead on the House and Senate floors; and that even for reprisal ideas he has presented that were originally Republican ideas, they were voted down because his name was attached.
History is not going to take that into account. So although yes yes yes to all of the above, one of his chief failings is in not commanding the respect his position deserves. He has been openly challenged on the House and Senate floors, spit at and disparaged in public. Who do we think we are to disrespect The Office of the President? An Equal? Not I, said the duck.
In the Republican camp of friends here in California, the news is astonishingly rude; that he is an unAmerican, black muslim outsider who does not love and believe in our country; a man whose values and integrity sympathize with our enemies; a man who is remaking America in his own image which is a Godless, unAmerican place.
That's a pretty big assertion for a man who can't even get legislation passed, to have the clout and power to reshape an entire country in one term and steal its soul. I think the people saying these things are representing the least American values of all.
I listen to how threatened and intolerant they are to different beliefs, cultures and backgrounds. What it comes down to in my book is these people want the White House to mirror their views and nothing more, which is impossible given the cultural complexity of our great nation. I don't know about you, but I vote in who I hope to be the best person for the job. And if I wanted me for the job, I would be on the ballot.
The loudest voices seem to be the least informed on political matters, and they instead adopt propaganda from the radio and news as their own view. They do not participate in this amazing opportunity in a country that welcomes their voice. They don't want to work to make a differenceL what they really want is the show.
Follow me ... said the Pied Piper;
let me give you a ride across the river ...
said the crocodile to the monkey;
you can have it all ... said the devil.
I think we all would do well with some hot chocolate and a nap before we decide.
Aug 30, 2012
Bluesy-Eyed
It's the 2 year jitters, and I am all bluesy-eyed.
Maybe it's a fallback emotion to being laid off out of the blue just around the 2 year mark, in 2009. That jolt and after shocks continued for a long time before life rebounded to somewhere good and decent and strong. A day doesn't go by that I do not appreciate being of service.
In the last several months, staff have been readied for a corporate transformation that is seeping into my bones. I wake thinking of it; I toss and turn at night, wondering if when we emerge from it, there will be a place for me.
I have compounded concerns. I work with mostly youngsters. In a recent online training day, it was evident that I bested everyone in the room by at least 20 years. It's a young person's game, which it should be, and I came away feeling doubly appreciative of my job.
But it also made me see that my days are numbered. Whether it is by choice or circumstance, inevitably the baton must be passed. I have not gotten in gear and moved plan B business idea off the drawing board and into action.
I think of that *older* woman we occasionally see, wearing too youthful attire and too much make up and dyeing her hair too dark and wearing too vibrant a lipstick. She obviously spent oodles of time on her appearance but is still unaware that her ship has sailed.
Ahem. Don't wanna be her!!
And so I take to heart what I am feeling as I head to work, put in a solid 8 and sometimes more, and wonder if others who have a job are keenly aware of the precariousness of their position and how hard it would be to recover should it be lost.
If this is in the heads of workers everywhere, I am profoundly sad.
Maybe it's a fallback emotion to being laid off out of the blue just around the 2 year mark, in 2009. That jolt and after shocks continued for a long time before life rebounded to somewhere good and decent and strong. A day doesn't go by that I do not appreciate being of service.
In the last several months, staff have been readied for a corporate transformation that is seeping into my bones. I wake thinking of it; I toss and turn at night, wondering if when we emerge from it, there will be a place for me.
I have compounded concerns. I work with mostly youngsters. In a recent online training day, it was evident that I bested everyone in the room by at least 20 years. It's a young person's game, which it should be, and I came away feeling doubly appreciative of my job.
But it also made me see that my days are numbered. Whether it is by choice or circumstance, inevitably the baton must be passed. I have not gotten in gear and moved plan B business idea off the drawing board and into action.
I think of that *older* woman we occasionally see, wearing too youthful attire and too much make up and dyeing her hair too dark and wearing too vibrant a lipstick. She obviously spent oodles of time on her appearance but is still unaware that her ship has sailed.
Ahem. Don't wanna be her!!
And so I take to heart what I am feeling as I head to work, put in a solid 8 and sometimes more, and wonder if others who have a job are keenly aware of the precariousness of their position and how hard it would be to recover should it be lost.
If this is in the heads of workers everywhere, I am profoundly sad.
Aug 28, 2012
Sugar Morning
This is my favorite thing to do in the mornings. I hop out of bed toddle down the hall to the window facing the front and this is what I see. (And this is who I see it with.)
Sammy and I have a routine. She waits for me to say GO before dashing out and into the fields for a morning run. I drink some coffee, and dig my feet in the soft earth and enjoy the mild morning temps.
We are grateful in so many ways, to Noel and Colleen, Richard and Dee, to their guidance and vision.
We are humbled by the outpouring of help from our neighbors to pack and move the garage, and to our friends Jenn and Merr and the most wonderful sons in the world, all of whom made moving the house possible.
It's the final day at the old place. You've been a great house; we will miss you; be good going forward.
Here at the farm, outside the window that looks out alongside the house, this is what is going on.
Life is active and building. The electrical, and the footings for the garage should be in today. Sam especially appreciated the big mounds of dirt to leap over this morning. She looked like a Giselle.
After we came inside and I wrote some of teh post, sounds came from outside, and this is what I saw.
Someone is hard at work already! Work, and then leaving behind the keys and garage door openers in the kitchen drawer. It's going to be a great day.
Aug 21, 2012
Remember This?
The Life of Riley, with William Bendix in the title role, is a popular American radio situation comedy series of the 1940s that was adapted into a 1949 feature film, a long-run 1950s television series (originally with Jackie Gleason as Riley for one truncated season, then with Bendix for six seasons), and a 1958 comic book.
The show began as a proposed Groucho Marx radio series, The Flotsam Family, but the sponsor balked at what would have been essentially a straight head-of-household role for the comedian. (Groucho went on to host Blue Ribbon Town from 1943 to 1944 and then You Bet Your Life from 1947 to 1961.) Then producer Irving Brecher saw Bendix as taxicab company owner Tim McGuerin in Hal Roach's The McGuerins from Brooklyn (1942).
The Flotsam Family was reworked with Bendix cast as blundering Chester A. Riley, a wing riveter at the fictional Cunningham Aircraft plant in California. His frequent exclamation of indignation—"What a revoltin' development this is!"—became one of the most famous catchphrases of the 1940s. The radio series also benefited from the immense popularity of a supporting character, Digby "Digger" O'Dell (John Brown), "the friendly undertaker".
The expression, "Living the life of Riley" suggests an ideal contented life, possibly living on someone else's money, time or work. Rather than a negative freeloading or golddigging aspect, it implies that someone is kept or advantaged. The expression was popular in the 1880s, a time when James Whitcomb Riley's poems depicted the comforts of a prosperous home life,[1] but it could have an Irish origin—after the Reilly clan consolidated its hold on County Cavan, they minted their own money, accepted as legal tender even in England. These coins, called “O'Reillys” and “Reilly's” became synonymous with a monied person, and a gentleman freely spending was “living on his Reillys”.
The Flotsam Family was reworked with Bendix cast as blundering Chester A. Riley, a wing riveter at the fictional Cunningham Aircraft plant in California. His frequent exclamation of indignation—"What a revoltin' development this is!"—became one of the most famous catchphrases of the 1940s. The radio series also benefited from the immense popularity of a supporting character, Digby "Digger" O'Dell (John Brown), "the friendly undertaker".
The expression, "Living the life of Riley" suggests an ideal contented life, possibly living on someone else's money, time or work. Rather than a negative freeloading or golddigging aspect, it implies that someone is kept or advantaged. The expression was popular in the 1880s, a time when James Whitcomb Riley's poems depicted the comforts of a prosperous home life,[1] but it could have an Irish origin—after the Reilly clan consolidated its hold on County Cavan, they minted their own money, accepted as legal tender even in England. These coins, called “O'Reillys” and “Reilly's” became synonymous with a monied person, and a gentleman freely spending was “living on his Reillys”.
Aug 20, 2012
Just Being Neighborly
Just getting around to some long-overdue preventive visits with the doc. Mammo, physical and blood work, and now a colonoscopy. Not sure why I'm good on this for a while and then have a lapse, but it is good to be back on track. It is the morning of the colonoscopy, and having just downed 8/10ths of a gallon of sodium bicarbonate with wild cherry flavoring, I am ready.
Speaking of ready, the TownHouse is clean and prepped with just the garage left to do. The difficulties there involve kitchen cabinets that line the walls, out of a friend's kitchen when they renovated. They have been great for storage but are heavy as a brick, especially the upper ones.
On Saturday the Hubs and a friend and I lamely tried to help him soldier the lower units into the storage POD, and we got it done, but no way could we do the upper ones without some serious guy help.
On Sunday as we were cleaning, our favorite neighbor passed by on his walk and took in the situation. About 10 minutes later, he showed up with the best attitude and offered to help! For the next several hours, I watched them step by step, he and the Hubs tackling those cabinets, working together as a team and coordinating their safe removal.
This was a really strenuous task, making the offer doubly great. The temps were about 100 degrees in a sweltering garage with no ventilation other than the open garage door. It all came down and stowed safely away, and just like that, the hardest part was done.
Our agent called last week. She said the buyers were ready to close and might we be out earlier than expected? It seemed impossible to even think about that, because of the garage. But now ... now an earlier occupancy might just be possible...all because of yesterday afternoon with Jorge.
Life is just so tender sometimes, it takes my breath away. But not on Tripoley night. That's different. On Tripoley night we will munch on appetizers like we always do and still try to beat his socks off.
Speaking of ready, the TownHouse is clean and prepped with just the garage left to do. The difficulties there involve kitchen cabinets that line the walls, out of a friend's kitchen when they renovated. They have been great for storage but are heavy as a brick, especially the upper ones.
On Saturday the Hubs and a friend and I lamely tried to help him soldier the lower units into the storage POD, and we got it done, but no way could we do the upper ones without some serious guy help.
On Sunday as we were cleaning, our favorite neighbor passed by on his walk and took in the situation. About 10 minutes later, he showed up with the best attitude and offered to help! For the next several hours, I watched them step by step, he and the Hubs tackling those cabinets, working together as a team and coordinating their safe removal.
This was a really strenuous task, making the offer doubly great. The temps were about 100 degrees in a sweltering garage with no ventilation other than the open garage door. It all came down and stowed safely away, and just like that, the hardest part was done.
Our agent called last week. She said the buyers were ready to close and might we be out earlier than expected? It seemed impossible to even think about that, because of the garage. But now ... now an earlier occupancy might just be possible...all because of yesterday afternoon with Jorge.
Life is just so tender sometimes, it takes my breath away. But not on Tripoley night. That's different. On Tripoley night we will munch on appetizers like we always do and still try to beat his socks off.
Aug 13, 2012
Mosquitos in the Car
I was on my way to work last Friday and noticed some fluttering in the car. A mosquito: oh crap.
We would be carpooling for about 40 minutes, and that wasn't going to work out very well (for me), so I focused in and swatted it dead, only to notice another two more zoning in on my arm. Slip*Slap*Gone.
We are Dragonfly Central, chiefly due to the abandoned pool next door that has just enough rainwater to be the Zamora Mosquito Capital of the World. We had these little black gnatty things early in the summer but once the temps got high enough, they disappeared. There were mosquitos early in the summer, of course, but nothing like now.
We go to bed wearing John's Skin So Soft on our upper bodies. Like camping!
The Yolo County Mosquito Abatement team come with their little test tubes and monitor it, and they use mosquito fish who leave constant water kisses as they gobble up the surface mosquitos. But mosquitos still pour out of there and they are a delicacy of dragonflies, which I didn't realize until the other night.
Sam typically uses a spot around the side of the house for her doings, and it was dusk as we rounded the bend. The air was full of dragonflies. It's about 300 sq feet between the house and the fence, and there were hundreds of them in a feeding frenzy. The air was moving with quick jerks in all directions, high in the air and along the ground, too.
Sam and I stood and watched for a minute, and I let her decide what she wanted to do. She looked at me and cocked her ears and turned towards the front yard, and that was that. What a sensible dog.
-----
On Sunday the Sheriff's Department talked to us about the ground squirrel problem. They are not the furry sweet tree squirrels people write books about; they are a menace for crops and property, and they have taken up residence on the land. Burrows are everywhere. Being surrounded by farmland on all sides, the property is an ideal spot for them to nest.
Typical eradication treatments are traps with bait or bait down the holes, but we have the diggingest dog you've ever seen, and so we had to talk about maybe shooting them. The Sheriff said that's totally alright, and most of our neighbors do it that way. Welcome to Rural America.
That was music to the Hubs' ears, sharp-shooter that he is. Last evening I spied him on patrol around dusk, swatting mosquitos and walking the perimeter around the chicken coop. Didn't I mention there is a chicken coop? For a couple more weeks, there is ...
I'd rather them just pack up and leave, maybe flood their burrows and scare them off before the garage and gardens go in. But we hear how persistent they are. And anyway, after our best tomatoes were snatched right off the vine within the first 24 hours here, they kind of started it. Critters, your lease is up.
We would be carpooling for about 40 minutes, and that wasn't going to work out very well (for me), so I focused in and swatted it dead, only to notice another two more zoning in on my arm. Slip*Slap*Gone.
We are Dragonfly Central, chiefly due to the abandoned pool next door that has just enough rainwater to be the Zamora Mosquito Capital of the World. We had these little black gnatty things early in the summer but once the temps got high enough, they disappeared. There were mosquitos early in the summer, of course, but nothing like now.
We go to bed wearing John's Skin So Soft on our upper bodies. Like camping!
The Yolo County Mosquito Abatement team come with their little test tubes and monitor it, and they use mosquito fish who leave constant water kisses as they gobble up the surface mosquitos. But mosquitos still pour out of there and they are a delicacy of dragonflies, which I didn't realize until the other night.
Sam typically uses a spot around the side of the house for her doings, and it was dusk as we rounded the bend. The air was full of dragonflies. It's about 300 sq feet between the house and the fence, and there were hundreds of them in a feeding frenzy. The air was moving with quick jerks in all directions, high in the air and along the ground, too.
Sam and I stood and watched for a minute, and I let her decide what she wanted to do. She looked at me and cocked her ears and turned towards the front yard, and that was that. What a sensible dog.
-----
On Sunday the Sheriff's Department talked to us about the ground squirrel problem. They are not the furry sweet tree squirrels people write books about; they are a menace for crops and property, and they have taken up residence on the land. Burrows are everywhere. Being surrounded by farmland on all sides, the property is an ideal spot for them to nest.
Typical eradication treatments are traps with bait or bait down the holes, but we have the diggingest dog you've ever seen, and so we had to talk about maybe shooting them. The Sheriff said that's totally alright, and most of our neighbors do it that way. Welcome to Rural America.
That was music to the Hubs' ears, sharp-shooter that he is. Last evening I spied him on patrol around dusk, swatting mosquitos and walking the perimeter around the chicken coop. Didn't I mention there is a chicken coop? For a couple more weeks, there is ...
I'd rather them just pack up and leave, maybe flood their burrows and scare them off before the garage and gardens go in. But we hear how persistent they are. And anyway, after our best tomatoes were snatched right off the vine within the first 24 hours here, they kind of started it. Critters, your lease is up.
Aug 9, 2012
Surface Streets
It's strange, the English language, with all its rules that it breaks itself, and double entendres. I am grateful this is my primary language.
In the quiet yard and fields around us retirement comes to mind, which is defined as withdrawing into seclusion. We have certainly done that, and begun the journey from a life in town, and neighbors all around on a busy street on the way to the hospital. My brother turns 60 next month, eeh gads.
Our country neighbor, Sam, is at his project house 3 or 4 times a week. We typically find him sitting cross legged reading the paper in the heat of the afternoon, facing the sun. He is tall and wiry and just the type of guy to be digging a gigantic hole in his yard to install some sort of holding tank when temps soar to over 100 degrees. You wouldn't be seeing anything like that in town.
Life is only partially here watching the goings-on of the dragonflies and ground squirrels. We work full time still, not quite yet part of the self sustaining, idle elite. Some retirees we know are busier now than ever, whose lives continue to have purpose and focus. Wouldn't that be great, to continue to do what and when and how, and as often as possible.
Now that we are somewhere that needs shaping and purpose, the dream is more energized. We see another dimension, with upkeep and tending things, and maybe a goat! .
One of the alternate meanings of retire is to re-tire a car. What good retirement advice, to toss a new set of tires on the old chassis and stay on the road! No need to give up the keys just yet. Off ramps lead to surface streets, and a lot more places to go.
In the quiet yard and fields around us retirement comes to mind, which is defined as withdrawing into seclusion. We have certainly done that, and begun the journey from a life in town, and neighbors all around on a busy street on the way to the hospital. My brother turns 60 next month, eeh gads.
Our country neighbor, Sam, is at his project house 3 or 4 times a week. We typically find him sitting cross legged reading the paper in the heat of the afternoon, facing the sun. He is tall and wiry and just the type of guy to be digging a gigantic hole in his yard to install some sort of holding tank when temps soar to over 100 degrees. You wouldn't be seeing anything like that in town.
Life is only partially here watching the goings-on of the dragonflies and ground squirrels. We work full time still, not quite yet part of the self sustaining, idle elite. Some retirees we know are busier now than ever, whose lives continue to have purpose and focus. Wouldn't that be great, to continue to do what and when and how, and as often as possible.
Now that we are somewhere that needs shaping and purpose, the dream is more energized. We see another dimension, with upkeep and tending things, and maybe a goat! .
One of the alternate meanings of retire is to re-tire a car. What good retirement advice, to toss a new set of tires on the old chassis and stay on the road! No need to give up the keys just yet. Off ramps lead to surface streets, and a lot more places to go.
The Best Laid Plans
It's hard to settle down tonight. I ran down the list. First, a little snack since dinner was a green salad. Something carbohydratie. I drank a full bottle of water for hydration. I notice dehydration mostly at night. Now I'm on to taking 1/2 a melatonin and blogging until it kicks in.
The sense of relief is most visible now that we aren't laying awake at night thinking of all the impossible scenarios if the house in town had not been approved for sale and sold. It did sell and the buyers are seeing it through, the bank is cooperating, and it appears a happy ending will be had by all. In these times, it feels downright astonishing to say that.
We had been hoofing over our stuff little by little to the country house and had THE PLAN for the big move. THE PLAN was basically for the boys to move the heavier pieces and get us in, those things we couldn't move on our own. That would be an enormous help. Over the next several weeks we would move over the lighter accessory pieces, clothes closets and whatnot, and take our time, and finish it up.
We picked Aug 4-5 as a likely weekend to execute THE PLAN which was 2 full weeks away, and confirmed with the boys. And a couple of days later, the boys jettisoned that weekend for a more convenient one when they were taking a motorcycle class in town and, by the way, could they stay with us?
Oh sure. But having the moving date moved up a week meant that it was just 4 days off. So we began a mad pack in paper boxes from work, trying to prepare. I took some time off work.
And all through this, the hubs' and I clung to THE PLAN, and on moving day turned them loose on packing the truck. The boys are really good at moving, really really good. Nothing was scratched or broken. They were fast and efficient. And in no time the first phase was done.
One might think I would see it coming, the moment when THE PLAN would inevitably be abandoned in favor of just bringing it all over at one time. We had the truck, they had the time, so why not? Son Reasoning 101. (I'm sure they wanted it to be over.)
That unfortunately happened on Day 1. It created a bit of a vacuum on the other end, as we didn't know THE PLAN had changed. So we celebrated as all the big pieces came in, dressers were reassembled, bedrooms and the livingroom set up, and we sat back really pleased, only to see the truck tail lights disappearing down the road because they were going back for another load.
Another load of WHAT? Books and TVs and stereos and lamps and wall units, collectibles and mementos, tables and chairs ~ all the things we hadn't precisely mapped out destinations for because they weren't part of THE PLAN. It all came marching in with furious efficiency and speed, and the house instantly resembled a cave in with us trapped inside.
It was probably best not to know ahead of time, don't you think? And they were right about one thing: getting it over and done with meant we have not needed to call in reprise reinforcements.
We are still buried, but things are finding homes. We work our days and then head to the town house for patio furniture and potted plants and board games, hoofing it to the farm. Or work through a box or two in the hallway or upstairs in the storeroom.
Now it's on to the garage! (I wish I were joking.) The garage is a plethora of amazing things and cabinets full of woodworking tools and fishing rods and camping stuff. It's got to go somewhere, and fast.
So this part of the journey will involve a POD, a portable storage container that is dropped off on the driveway, to be filled and delivered to the new house. It's a rentable, storage unit on wheels. The soon-to-be garage is on the Building Inspector's desk for permit approval, and this will keep our garage gear handy until that goes up. And, honestly - best of all - we will only move it once: from the garage in town > POD = POD > country garage. It's a good PLAN.
The sense of relief is most visible now that we aren't laying awake at night thinking of all the impossible scenarios if the house in town had not been approved for sale and sold. It did sell and the buyers are seeing it through, the bank is cooperating, and it appears a happy ending will be had by all. In these times, it feels downright astonishing to say that.
We had been hoofing over our stuff little by little to the country house and had THE PLAN for the big move. THE PLAN was basically for the boys to move the heavier pieces and get us in, those things we couldn't move on our own. That would be an enormous help. Over the next several weeks we would move over the lighter accessory pieces, clothes closets and whatnot, and take our time, and finish it up.
We picked Aug 4-5 as a likely weekend to execute THE PLAN which was 2 full weeks away, and confirmed with the boys. And a couple of days later, the boys jettisoned that weekend for a more convenient one when they were taking a motorcycle class in town and, by the way, could they stay with us?
Oh sure. But having the moving date moved up a week meant that it was just 4 days off. So we began a mad pack in paper boxes from work, trying to prepare. I took some time off work.
And all through this, the hubs' and I clung to THE PLAN, and on moving day turned them loose on packing the truck. The boys are really good at moving, really really good. Nothing was scratched or broken. They were fast and efficient. And in no time the first phase was done.
One might think I would see it coming, the moment when THE PLAN would inevitably be abandoned in favor of just bringing it all over at one time. We had the truck, they had the time, so why not? Son Reasoning 101. (I'm sure they wanted it to be over.)
That unfortunately happened on Day 1. It created a bit of a vacuum on the other end, as we didn't know THE PLAN had changed. So we celebrated as all the big pieces came in, dressers were reassembled, bedrooms and the livingroom set up, and we sat back really pleased, only to see the truck tail lights disappearing down the road because they were going back for another load.
Another load of WHAT? Books and TVs and stereos and lamps and wall units, collectibles and mementos, tables and chairs ~ all the things we hadn't precisely mapped out destinations for because they weren't part of THE PLAN. It all came marching in with furious efficiency and speed, and the house instantly resembled a cave in with us trapped inside.
It was probably best not to know ahead of time, don't you think? And they were right about one thing: getting it over and done with meant we have not needed to call in reprise reinforcements.
We are still buried, but things are finding homes. We work our days and then head to the town house for patio furniture and potted plants and board games, hoofing it to the farm. Or work through a box or two in the hallway or upstairs in the storeroom.
Now it's on to the garage! (I wish I were joking.) The garage is a plethora of amazing things and cabinets full of woodworking tools and fishing rods and camping stuff. It's got to go somewhere, and fast.
So this part of the journey will involve a POD, a portable storage container that is dropped off on the driveway, to be filled and delivered to the new house. It's a rentable, storage unit on wheels. The soon-to-be garage is on the Building Inspector's desk for permit approval, and this will keep our garage gear handy until that goes up. And, honestly - best of all - we will only move it once: from the garage in town > POD = POD > country garage. It's a good PLAN.
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