I know, its been awhile since I've blogged. So sue me.
What I've discovered is that no one is reading my blog so I can write anything I want. I can use this page as free therapy if I choose to. I could rant about politics or religion or the economy, or why I can never seem to get organized. It doesn't matter since no ones reading it but me.
I could blog about all those things, but I won't. At least not for now. I've decided I need to stop using this as my personal soapbox about all things insane on the farm and start working on turning it into a blog with photos and updates about renovating the old house and then about living in the house and how it eventually turns out when its finished. I have to laugh when I even consider that it will ever be finished.
While I'm blogging about the house, I plan to also start posting photos of all the treasures I find when I'm out on one of my scouting trips. I hope to eventually spend time finding items that need a little TLC, give them a little love, then pass them on to someone else that will appreciate them.
That's the plan, for now.
Until then...
As of last week the house had gotten its 'rough-in' plumbing, electrical, framing, and HVAC. The painter started scraping the exterior, the 'addition' went up, the porches have been started, and the roofer is scheduled this week. Still have to get insulation, and the fireplace installed before the inspection. I try not to get excited or get my hopes up, but I feel a little glimmer of hope that we might actually have walls, heat, plumbing, a roof, and windows by November 1.
I just want to get in the house. All the other things can come later. I just need running water and electricity.
Seriously, that's all I need. I've been on a permanent camp out for the last month with no end in sight. It can be enjoyable and a bit on the romantic side, if you're a gypsy like me, but I'm looking forward to the day I can turn on a faucet and hot water comes out. And I really would like to use a toilet again. And a stove.
I'm so easy to please.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Peace Talks Have Broken Down...
I'm a peace loving, will-hug-a-tree hippie shack living, love everybody type of woman.
Really, I am.
I hate fighting, arguing, insults and loud noises! Especially, loud yelling.
And yet, I found myself standing in a driveway listening to a cranky, miserable, hateful,
old man, yelling loudly at me.
Normally, and especially lately, I just walk away. I did walk away, at first. Then, out of pure shock, I expressed my disbelief over what I had just been called and that this family is worth nothing. I just couldn't let it go.
No, I wouldn't let it go. Even Jesus had his limits. I have my limits. You can't talk to me as if I'm not a person and expect me to not say anything. I said plenty. Mostly, I got my point across that just because I'm a female does NOT mean I'm worthless, or that you can yell at me, and I'm not stupid, and I don't lie. And...
I WILL NEVER LET A MAN THINK HE CAN BULLY ME JUST BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN! NEVER.
It was a horrible day. For everyone concerned.
And the worse part is that all we want to do is just live here.
I'm sad.
The war is still going on and the peace talks have broken down.
Stand by for shelling. This old man is going down.
Really, I am.
I hate fighting, arguing, insults and loud noises! Especially, loud yelling.
And yet, I found myself standing in a driveway listening to a cranky, miserable, hateful,
old man, yelling loudly at me.
Normally, and especially lately, I just walk away. I did walk away, at first. Then, out of pure shock, I expressed my disbelief over what I had just been called and that this family is worth nothing. I just couldn't let it go.
No, I wouldn't let it go. Even Jesus had his limits. I have my limits. You can't talk to me as if I'm not a person and expect me to not say anything. I said plenty. Mostly, I got my point across that just because I'm a female does NOT mean I'm worthless, or that you can yell at me, and I'm not stupid, and I don't lie. And...
I WILL NEVER LET A MAN THINK HE CAN BULLY ME JUST BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN! NEVER.
It was a horrible day. For everyone concerned.
And the worse part is that all we want to do is just live here.
I'm sad.
The war is still going on and the peace talks have broken down.
Stand by for shelling. This old man is going down.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Still Kicking....
Midnight on a Sunday...moving into another Monday. 3 weeks into the camper life and, amazingly, I'm still happy with my decision to move in here. Although, there were a couple of days recently...
I had just gotten excited about having my sister-in-law and her 2 kids move into their little, newly renovated cottage here on the property where my Tin Cottage sits. It was heavenly to see familiar faces, every day, and have visitors here. Plus, as a bonus, I now would have access to running water, a bathroom with hot shower, and a laundry room! We were all just giddy over being around each other. Then, things just went to hades.
Their first morning, less than 7 hours after their arrival, we had a huge rainstorm. Yes, we needed the rain, we always do, but they needed to move their furniture in and it just wasn't happening. The rain stopped eventually and they did get things moved in. The kids started coming to my camper to visit and mostly to check out how their crazy aunt is managing to live in this tiny tin can they affectionately call "The Hippie Shack". I was thrilled to have them around and to actually 'be' an aunt, finally. Life was getting better.
Just as we were settling into our new routine, and I use that term loosely, three days after their arrival, more natural excitement. We had been sitting outside enjoying the beautiful Kansas evening, having a little wine (probably vodka, but I can't remember), chatting, catching up. Visiting. We watched a storm over to the north of us and decided that we should go inside, but no worries about rain, "to far away." Goodnights were exchanged and we all went into our little homes. Less than 10 minutes later, my phone rang.
"Mom, where are you?"
"I'm in my camper. Why?"
"I don't want to scare you, but there's a big storm coming and I think you should go to grandma's, just to be safe."
"Are you sure?"
And that's when I felt the camper shaking; swaying, really, but moving.
"Oh, its getting really windy and there's thunder. Ok, I'm going to Monica's."
"Just go, now."
I grabbed my shoes, my phone and charger (I know, crazy), and called the dog. I opened the door, barely, against the wind and just managed to close it when the wind really kicked up. I just started running.
I ran the 30 yards to her back door and before I could knock, she had the door opened and helping me inside. I realized that I had held my shoes in my hand as I ran instead of putting them on. Probably a good thing.
What seems now like only a few minutes, but was probably more like 20, we heard a loud crack in between the thunder. We looked out the back door and when a bolt of lightning hit, we could see the biggest limb you can imagine, laying across the sidewalk leading to the back door I had just recently run to.
There were lots of exclamations, watching of storm, trying to find it on the internet, more exclamations, then the power went out. And it got warm inside. And I got sick.
This is when my terrible weekend started. This is when I wanted to get in my truck, with the dog, and just start driving back to Texas. What I did instead was go back to my camper, after the storm had passed, lay down to cool off and try to sleep. The next morning after seeing the damage, and realizing our power wasn't coming back on anytime soon, I got the dog and we headed to my daughter's house in town, hoping for a shower, some food, and a working a/c.
Got some food, some coffee, and there was hot water. There wasn't a/c.
I hate to say that I whined. Yep, independent, mature, resourceful woman that I am, started whining. Whining over the heat, the humidity, the lack of a/c, my headache, hunger, lack of a/c, needing a shower, needing clean clothes, being exhausted, lack of a/c. I fell asleep in her chair. I woke up for food. I feel asleep again. I called hotels but they all wanted too much money. I fell asleep again. I layed in the dark with a little fan on me wishing for a/c. It was a long night.
Next morning I found out that the power had come back on at 11 p.m. the night before. We were only without power for 24 hours. Lucky us. I got the dog and headed back to the farm. I couldn't shake my sour mood.
My camper had been without power for 24 hours. That shouldn't have mattered since it had been without anything for years while it sat in a driveway, waiting to be cleaned and cared for. Turns out 24 hours does matter. The frig was warm. The freezer was defrosting itself. The dishes from the day before were starting to smell. It was a hot mess.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to be back in my big house in Texas with the a/c on, the frig full, my big soft bed, and my husband there to tell me everything would be okay. I didn't want to clean out this little frig again. I didn't want to have to empty and clean out the port-a-potty. I didn't want to heat water on the camp stove to wash the dishes. I didn't wanna!!
Well, not that you'd know this about me, but I'm not a quitter.
So, I rolled up my sleeves and dug in. I took out trash; I heated water and cleaned all the dishes; I cleaned out the frig; I cleaned the potty; I organized. I cleaned the entire camper. It looked good then. I started digging the place again.
I put on some Billie Holliday and other 40's jazz music for inspiration. The day picked up. We had a great dinner under the stars that night. It turned out to be a good day.
I'm still here. Still fighting forward. I can't quit until the farmhouse is finished and we can move in. I just can't quit now. It will take more than a Kansas wind to knock me off my feet and send me back to Texas.
But a little 'whine' never hurts to help you get through a bad time.
I had just gotten excited about having my sister-in-law and her 2 kids move into their little, newly renovated cottage here on the property where my Tin Cottage sits. It was heavenly to see familiar faces, every day, and have visitors here. Plus, as a bonus, I now would have access to running water, a bathroom with hot shower, and a laundry room! We were all just giddy over being around each other. Then, things just went to hades.
Their first morning, less than 7 hours after their arrival, we had a huge rainstorm. Yes, we needed the rain, we always do, but they needed to move their furniture in and it just wasn't happening. The rain stopped eventually and they did get things moved in. The kids started coming to my camper to visit and mostly to check out how their crazy aunt is managing to live in this tiny tin can they affectionately call "The Hippie Shack". I was thrilled to have them around and to actually 'be' an aunt, finally. Life was getting better.
Just as we were settling into our new routine, and I use that term loosely, three days after their arrival, more natural excitement. We had been sitting outside enjoying the beautiful Kansas evening, having a little wine (probably vodka, but I can't remember), chatting, catching up. Visiting. We watched a storm over to the north of us and decided that we should go inside, but no worries about rain, "to far away." Goodnights were exchanged and we all went into our little homes. Less than 10 minutes later, my phone rang.
"Mom, where are you?"
"I'm in my camper. Why?"
"I don't want to scare you, but there's a big storm coming and I think you should go to grandma's, just to be safe."
"Are you sure?"
And that's when I felt the camper shaking; swaying, really, but moving.
"Oh, its getting really windy and there's thunder. Ok, I'm going to Monica's."
"Just go, now."
I grabbed my shoes, my phone and charger (I know, crazy), and called the dog. I opened the door, barely, against the wind and just managed to close it when the wind really kicked up. I just started running.
I ran the 30 yards to her back door and before I could knock, she had the door opened and helping me inside. I realized that I had held my shoes in my hand as I ran instead of putting them on. Probably a good thing.
What seems now like only a few minutes, but was probably more like 20, we heard a loud crack in between the thunder. We looked out the back door and when a bolt of lightning hit, we could see the biggest limb you can imagine, laying across the sidewalk leading to the back door I had just recently run to.
There were lots of exclamations, watching of storm, trying to find it on the internet, more exclamations, then the power went out. And it got warm inside. And I got sick.
This is when my terrible weekend started. This is when I wanted to get in my truck, with the dog, and just start driving back to Texas. What I did instead was go back to my camper, after the storm had passed, lay down to cool off and try to sleep. The next morning after seeing the damage, and realizing our power wasn't coming back on anytime soon, I got the dog and we headed to my daughter's house in town, hoping for a shower, some food, and a working a/c.
Got some food, some coffee, and there was hot water. There wasn't a/c.
I hate to say that I whined. Yep, independent, mature, resourceful woman that I am, started whining. Whining over the heat, the humidity, the lack of a/c, my headache, hunger, lack of a/c, needing a shower, needing clean clothes, being exhausted, lack of a/c. I fell asleep in her chair. I woke up for food. I feel asleep again. I called hotels but they all wanted too much money. I fell asleep again. I layed in the dark with a little fan on me wishing for a/c. It was a long night.
Next morning I found out that the power had come back on at 11 p.m. the night before. We were only without power for 24 hours. Lucky us. I got the dog and headed back to the farm. I couldn't shake my sour mood.
My camper had been without power for 24 hours. That shouldn't have mattered since it had been without anything for years while it sat in a driveway, waiting to be cleaned and cared for. Turns out 24 hours does matter. The frig was warm. The freezer was defrosting itself. The dishes from the day before were starting to smell. It was a hot mess.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to be back in my big house in Texas with the a/c on, the frig full, my big soft bed, and my husband there to tell me everything would be okay. I didn't want to clean out this little frig again. I didn't want to have to empty and clean out the port-a-potty. I didn't want to heat water on the camp stove to wash the dishes. I didn't wanna!!
Well, not that you'd know this about me, but I'm not a quitter.
So, I rolled up my sleeves and dug in. I took out trash; I heated water and cleaned all the dishes; I cleaned out the frig; I cleaned the potty; I organized. I cleaned the entire camper. It looked good then. I started digging the place again.
I put on some Billie Holliday and other 40's jazz music for inspiration. The day picked up. We had a great dinner under the stars that night. It turned out to be a good day.
I'm still here. Still fighting forward. I can't quit until the farmhouse is finished and we can move in. I just can't quit now. It will take more than a Kansas wind to knock me off my feet and send me back to Texas.
But a little 'whine' never hurts to help you get through a bad time.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Its All About Perspective...
Perspective - a view or a way of seeing things based on experience and personality.
Lately, I've been spending alot of time thinking about how my perspective of my current living situation affects my ability to continue aforementioned living situation. My situation being that I am living in a small, aluminum camper with no plumbing, at the back of my sister-in-law's property, while waiting for the contractor to finish his part of renovating the ancient family farmhouse. I know; it sounds so blissful when I put it that way. Actually, I've realized that how I choose to look at the situation means that it can be blissful - or not.
It all depends on me. Me and my perspective. (Sounds like a song title doesn't it?)
Since moving here to start the renovation, I've had days that made me feel as if I had somehow taken my mind out of my head and left it somewhere along the trip from Texas to Kansas. I'm talking 'stark-raving mad' type of days. Not that I ever let on to anyone that all I wanted to do some days was sit in a corner, headphones in, slugging on a bottle of vodka, and talking to myself in between heaving sobs. Saying something like that out loud would have certainly had me labeled as 'needing medication' and I'm not playing that game anymore. Been there, done that. Just because my contractor neglected to add the room for the hvac system in his bid which is now going to cost us an extra $6000 we hadn't planned on, doesn't mean that I need to start twitching and shouting obscenities to random strangers. I'm pretty sure that would get me arrested anyway. And just because the man my mother-in-law married detests the sight of me (for reasons unknown to me) and thinks our house should have been burned down, I'm not going to yell at the kid bagging my groceries or the meter maid downtown as she's writing my fifth parking ticket this month. I'm not going to yell at crying babies just because my truck got hit TWICE in one month. It wouldn't help to do any of those things. Crying, yelling, drinking (excessively in one sitting), cursing, ranting, being in a generally foul mood...never makes the bad days better.
What makes the bad days, or moments, tolerable is the way I choose to look at things. The fact that I choose to not let those little things bother me so much that I can't find a way to enjoy the moments that bring me happiness.
Moments like sitting in the stands at a local community fair listening to string music, watching children dance along, listening to my friends laughing, watching the sunset all the while knowing that people have been coming to this fair for over a hundred years, mostly just to see each other and stay connected.
Like seeing a buck come out of the trees south of our house and knowing that he feels safe there.
And sitting on the deck at our friend's house, after a fantastic meal, watching the full moon come up on the horizon and everyone got quiet, because sometimes there's just nothing to say when nature makes an entrance into your world.
Feeling exhilarated at standing outside during a thunderstorm that cracks so loud you feel it in your gut and you know you should run inside but you want to experience it as long as you can.
Finally, under a full moon and perfect temperatures, seeing Neil Young live in concert and knowing you're there to support local farmers.
Its not just the big moments I see through rose-colored glasses. There are thousands of little moments every day that cause me to stop and give out a breath of gratitude to the universe for bringing me to this place, at this time, with these people.
I'm grateful that I have the sense to realize how fortunate I am. How a few miserable people can't, and won't, cause me to quit or leave. Grateful for the sense to realize that its all in how I look at things...
Its all about perspective. If you could see the view from my front porch, you'd understand.
Lately, I've been spending alot of time thinking about how my perspective of my current living situation affects my ability to continue aforementioned living situation. My situation being that I am living in a small, aluminum camper with no plumbing, at the back of my sister-in-law's property, while waiting for the contractor to finish his part of renovating the ancient family farmhouse. I know; it sounds so blissful when I put it that way. Actually, I've realized that how I choose to look at the situation means that it can be blissful - or not.
It all depends on me. Me and my perspective. (Sounds like a song title doesn't it?)
Since moving here to start the renovation, I've had days that made me feel as if I had somehow taken my mind out of my head and left it somewhere along the trip from Texas to Kansas. I'm talking 'stark-raving mad' type of days. Not that I ever let on to anyone that all I wanted to do some days was sit in a corner, headphones in, slugging on a bottle of vodka, and talking to myself in between heaving sobs. Saying something like that out loud would have certainly had me labeled as 'needing medication' and I'm not playing that game anymore. Been there, done that. Just because my contractor neglected to add the room for the hvac system in his bid which is now going to cost us an extra $6000 we hadn't planned on, doesn't mean that I need to start twitching and shouting obscenities to random strangers. I'm pretty sure that would get me arrested anyway. And just because the man my mother-in-law married detests the sight of me (for reasons unknown to me) and thinks our house should have been burned down, I'm not going to yell at the kid bagging my groceries or the meter maid downtown as she's writing my fifth parking ticket this month. I'm not going to yell at crying babies just because my truck got hit TWICE in one month. It wouldn't help to do any of those things. Crying, yelling, drinking (excessively in one sitting), cursing, ranting, being in a generally foul mood...never makes the bad days better.
What makes the bad days, or moments, tolerable is the way I choose to look at things. The fact that I choose to not let those little things bother me so much that I can't find a way to enjoy the moments that bring me happiness.
Moments like sitting in the stands at a local community fair listening to string music, watching children dance along, listening to my friends laughing, watching the sunset all the while knowing that people have been coming to this fair for over a hundred years, mostly just to see each other and stay connected.
Like seeing a buck come out of the trees south of our house and knowing that he feels safe there.
And sitting on the deck at our friend's house, after a fantastic meal, watching the full moon come up on the horizon and everyone got quiet, because sometimes there's just nothing to say when nature makes an entrance into your world.
Feeling exhilarated at standing outside during a thunderstorm that cracks so loud you feel it in your gut and you know you should run inside but you want to experience it as long as you can.
Finally, under a full moon and perfect temperatures, seeing Neil Young live in concert and knowing you're there to support local farmers.
Its not just the big moments I see through rose-colored glasses. There are thousands of little moments every day that cause me to stop and give out a breath of gratitude to the universe for bringing me to this place, at this time, with these people.
I'm grateful that I have the sense to realize how fortunate I am. How a few miserable people can't, and won't, cause me to quit or leave. Grateful for the sense to realize that its all in how I look at things...
Its all about perspective. If you could see the view from my front porch, you'd understand.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I Want the French Life...
Long, frustrating day, again. Still no word from the missing contractor, who only two weeks ago promised hubby that drywall would be up in 3 weeks. One & a half weeks to go; maybe he'll keep that promise. And maybe, my bitter, grouchy, anger-riddled, hermit of a man, step father in law will disappear. Then my life would be tres bon!
After this long, frustrating day, I was perusing some of my favorite blogs. I noticed that the majority of them are French themed. There are blogs about a paris farmgirl who lives in a french farmhouse (somewhere in the US), a lady who loves all things French from flea markets, (also living in the US), and others that proclaim Vive la France with each blog posting.
I read this blogs and look at the photos and drool over the items in their shops, all the while wishing I were more french. Or just a little bit french. I want to wear red lipstick while canning fresh tomatoes from my 'jardin'; I want to wear my hair in a twist or a ponytail while discussing literature, and brocante. I want to cook coq au vin with truffle oil and serve it with an old french vin. Je nais se pas un fille. Je suis un mademoiselle. I want to be a French woman. I want to decorate my maison with all things white, old, carved, and comfortable. Oh how I want to be in my house, decorating, sewing, cooking, baking, entertaining, drinking wine after dinner with friends around the table.
Don't I deserve this? Haven't I worked hard for this? Aren't I just un petite francais?
What I am these days is a woman living in a tin cottage with a port-a-potty, an old dog that tears things up, no running water, no shower nearby, no idea how to dress to go to town anymore, using a one burner camp stove to cook, fighting off flying insects that manage to get through the screens, and having no one to talk to or to rant to about all things frustrating. I have no table to sit at even if I were cooking meals ala Julia Child. I have no reason to wear stylish clothes or perfume. I barely do anything to my hair other than run my fingers through it. I don't wear makeup. I don't care.
I want to turn on a faucet, preferably a chrome one over a porcelain sink, and have beautiful water run over my hands, face, and into buckets. I want to have hot water to wash my dishes in and rinse my clothes. I want to sit in a tub full of water and soak until my skin shrivels. I want to be decadent and spend a half hour on my skin regimen. I want to wash my hair over and over then style it and put on makeup because I am going out. I want to sleep in a bed again. I want to have more than 24 ft to turn around in.
What I have is a plastic mattress covered with plastic then a sheet on top. I have a burner to cook on, thankfully I have a le crueset pan to cook in. I sit in my undies under a fan eating sloppy joe sandwiches and vodka with fruit juice. I use a frig that has a spoon twisted in a string tightly to keep the door closed. A freezer that needs defrosting every 4 days. No where to put my clothes or things. I've no room for living. I'm just here. I'm just waiting for my contractor to see how important this house is to me and finish his work expeditiously. I'm waiting for my hubby to get a transfer to be here with me and be my partner in the project. I'm waiting for my mother-in-law to tell her husband to shut the hell up and leave us alone. I'm waiting for someone to come visit me once in a while so I don't turn into the 'Shining' and start talking to myself.
The worst part is that I only moved out here a little over a week ago. I have months to go. I wonder why all of us that love all things french don't give up this american lifestyle and move to France. Safer to be here and proclaim our 'french-ness'.
Safer, easier, more exotic maybe. Oh I want....
Viva la France mon amies! Come see me. I'll make coq au vin. Or something like it.
After this long, frustrating day, I was perusing some of my favorite blogs. I noticed that the majority of them are French themed. There are blogs about a paris farmgirl who lives in a french farmhouse (somewhere in the US), a lady who loves all things French from flea markets, (also living in the US), and others that proclaim Vive la France with each blog posting.
I read this blogs and look at the photos and drool over the items in their shops, all the while wishing I were more french. Or just a little bit french. I want to wear red lipstick while canning fresh tomatoes from my 'jardin'; I want to wear my hair in a twist or a ponytail while discussing literature, and brocante. I want to cook coq au vin with truffle oil and serve it with an old french vin. Je nais se pas un fille. Je suis un mademoiselle. I want to be a French woman. I want to decorate my maison with all things white, old, carved, and comfortable. Oh how I want to be in my house, decorating, sewing, cooking, baking, entertaining, drinking wine after dinner with friends around the table.
Don't I deserve this? Haven't I worked hard for this? Aren't I just un petite francais?
What I am these days is a woman living in a tin cottage with a port-a-potty, an old dog that tears things up, no running water, no shower nearby, no idea how to dress to go to town anymore, using a one burner camp stove to cook, fighting off flying insects that manage to get through the screens, and having no one to talk to or to rant to about all things frustrating. I have no table to sit at even if I were cooking meals ala Julia Child. I have no reason to wear stylish clothes or perfume. I barely do anything to my hair other than run my fingers through it. I don't wear makeup. I don't care.
I want to turn on a faucet, preferably a chrome one over a porcelain sink, and have beautiful water run over my hands, face, and into buckets. I want to have hot water to wash my dishes in and rinse my clothes. I want to sit in a tub full of water and soak until my skin shrivels. I want to be decadent and spend a half hour on my skin regimen. I want to wash my hair over and over then style it and put on makeup because I am going out. I want to sleep in a bed again. I want to have more than 24 ft to turn around in.
What I have is a plastic mattress covered with plastic then a sheet on top. I have a burner to cook on, thankfully I have a le crueset pan to cook in. I sit in my undies under a fan eating sloppy joe sandwiches and vodka with fruit juice. I use a frig that has a spoon twisted in a string tightly to keep the door closed. A freezer that needs defrosting every 4 days. No where to put my clothes or things. I've no room for living. I'm just here. I'm just waiting for my contractor to see how important this house is to me and finish his work expeditiously. I'm waiting for my hubby to get a transfer to be here with me and be my partner in the project. I'm waiting for my mother-in-law to tell her husband to shut the hell up and leave us alone. I'm waiting for someone to come visit me once in a while so I don't turn into the 'Shining' and start talking to myself.
The worst part is that I only moved out here a little over a week ago. I have months to go. I wonder why all of us that love all things french don't give up this american lifestyle and move to France. Safer to be here and proclaim our 'french-ness'.
Safer, easier, more exotic maybe. Oh I want....
Viva la France mon amies! Come see me. I'll make coq au vin. Or something like it.
Is There A Problem Here, or is it Just Me?
Do I just not get it or does no one understand contractors modus operandi?
Heard from mine on Friday morning, then nothing. I texted him, emailed him a couple times, hubby emailed him, I waited then called and left a voice mail. NOTHING. not so much as a courtesy return call/message/text. I guess he really doesn't care what we think or how we feel.
If I do hear from him, which would shock me, I intend to act like I don't know who he is. I'll say something like, "gee, I really wish I could write you another check, but our house hasn't sold, so, if you could wait... it will be in the mail."
I want to treat him like he has treated us. I want to teach him a lesson. I want him to be a grown-up! I'm ready to fire his ass. He has no idea.
I went down to the house today, a Monday, and no one has been there. No work has been done for days. And, there is trash blowing everywhere. What is it with construction crews? They finish something and literally drop it where they stand. I will not have trash blowing around the countryside. I feel a Frankenstein moment coming on. AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH. I just want him to do what I hired him to do and to get it done without going over budget, and by November 1. Is that too much to ask??!!
I go down to the house at least every day now that I'm staying out here. I get mixed emotions being there now. I love, love being out here where its quiet and still and peace is so close. I would live in this Tin Cottage forever just to be out here. It doesn't escape me how fortunate I am. I'm grateful. I acknowledge this.
It does not,however, take away my frustration at getting our house finished.
I thought my mother-in-law's husband was my greatest teacher. And he is teaching me how to practice buddhism. Now I'm sure my greatest teacher is my contractor. Teaching me patience, acceptance, trust, and compassion. I'm working with such great effort that I don't know if I'll ever be able to make this my 'first nature.' I want to trust him to do what he said he would, in the time frame he said he could finish, and under the original bid. I just want to be in our house. In our forever house. We have so much to do,and we're not getting younger.
So, now I question, "what's the hurry?"
The hurry is that I'm already 52 and not getting any younger. I just want to get on with the business of living.
Living in our home would be a jump start to that!
Can I get an amen!
Heard from mine on Friday morning, then nothing. I texted him, emailed him a couple times, hubby emailed him, I waited then called and left a voice mail. NOTHING. not so much as a courtesy return call/message/text. I guess he really doesn't care what we think or how we feel.
If I do hear from him, which would shock me, I intend to act like I don't know who he is. I'll say something like, "gee, I really wish I could write you another check, but our house hasn't sold, so, if you could wait... it will be in the mail."
I want to treat him like he has treated us. I want to teach him a lesson. I want him to be a grown-up! I'm ready to fire his ass. He has no idea.
I went down to the house today, a Monday, and no one has been there. No work has been done for days. And, there is trash blowing everywhere. What is it with construction crews? They finish something and literally drop it where they stand. I will not have trash blowing around the countryside. I feel a Frankenstein moment coming on. AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH. I just want him to do what I hired him to do and to get it done without going over budget, and by November 1. Is that too much to ask??!!
I go down to the house at least every day now that I'm staying out here. I get mixed emotions being there now. I love, love being out here where its quiet and still and peace is so close. I would live in this Tin Cottage forever just to be out here. It doesn't escape me how fortunate I am. I'm grateful. I acknowledge this.
It does not,however, take away my frustration at getting our house finished.
I thought my mother-in-law's husband was my greatest teacher. And he is teaching me how to practice buddhism. Now I'm sure my greatest teacher is my contractor. Teaching me patience, acceptance, trust, and compassion. I'm working with such great effort that I don't know if I'll ever be able to make this my 'first nature.' I want to trust him to do what he said he would, in the time frame he said he could finish, and under the original bid. I just want to be in our house. In our forever house. We have so much to do,and we're not getting younger.
So, now I question, "what's the hurry?"
The hurry is that I'm already 52 and not getting any younger. I just want to get on with the business of living.
Living in our home would be a jump start to that!
Can I get an amen!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Its a Strange Country Life ....
I made a promise to myself: try to blog at least every other day. I've discovered that the older you get, the harder it can be to keep promises. Especially the ones you make to yourself. The only thing that's inspiring me to continue journaling, is that I've discovered country life is different.
For those of you who have lived in the country, this isn't news. For you who have dreamed of living in the country, take note. I'm not saying its bad, or weird, or harder, or scary (though there are times); its just different.
For some reason, living out here, only 8 miles from town, I've begun to act and think differently. I find that I spend far too much time in reflection; thinking, deeply, about life and its nuances and how it has affected me. Its a simple thing really, or should be, to move to the country. I think I mean to 'live' in the country. Different, but better.
Better by far. I like spending time during a rain storm reflecting on how I came to be here, why I'm here, what needs to be done, and deeper ideas like 'today is all I have right now, best to make sure this day is a great one,' and 'if not for a man who left Ireland, and settled in Kansas, then the son of the son of the son of that man would not exist and we would not be here.'
See what I mean? Deep thoughts. Thankfully I don't have those all the time. Some times I'm just working, hard, at making sure things are ready when my contractor gives the word. I have no intention of having this project fall behind schedule because of my not being able to make a decision. So I also spend time, usually in the heat of the day, or during a rain storm (which we've had two major ones today) thinking, planning, choosing, looking at magazines, cutting out photos, writing, and generally making a plan to hand said contractor all my ideas, with materials, as soon as he ask for them. My plan is to say, "here are my plans, ideas, the materials to use, where I want things, how I want them to look and function; make it happen and stay under budget."
I think about alot since I've moved out here.
I think about the way I'm living, basic and rudimentary, and how it might seem unneccesary and rustic to some people, and comfortable and fortunate to others. I haven't really given up anything to live in the Tin Cottage for a couple of months. I'm living well. And, I've chosen to live this way. Well, I didn't choose to not have plumbing, but other than that, all is well. I eat well, have plenty to keep me busy, I have transportation, family nearby, money in the bank, I'm cool when its hot outside, dry when it rains... what else could I possibly need? Life is good. I think about the people who haven't chose to live without all those things. I say a prayer of thanks to the universe every day for all that I have.
I have.... a camping toilet now. I feel like a rich woman when I sit down to go potty. Its a luxury I hadn't planned on, but grateful to my mother-in-law for the gift. No one at her place was using it, so, it came to me. I'm learning that when you ask the universe for what you need, and you put it out there to people, you tend to get what you ask for. It might not be exactly what you were asking for, but you will be blessed.
I asked for a place to stay so I could be nearby while the house is being renovated. Check.
I asked for plumbing.
half a check. I have water nearby and a heat source. Close enough.
I asked for a toilet.
Big check!
I asked for some rain to cool us off.
Check again.
I asked for friends and family and time spent with them.
Check, check, check.
As I mentioned in the beginning, life in the country is different. A storm swelled up out of nowhere today and blew in a hard rain, strong winds, and hail. I was feeling anxious, then it passed and went on its way. I then spent some time trying to clean an antique stove I'm planning on using in the farmhouse. It looks good, so far. Then I rode my bike across the road and took a shower at my mom-in-laws. When I came out, the air outside had cooled and the clouds were hanging around. It was glorious.
As I rode my bike back to the Cottage, I was overwhelmed with my fortunes. With the cool air, the breeze at my back, my faithful dog running behind trying to keep up, my dry and lovely cottage that was loaned to me. I looked out over the green fields thinking I must be in the french or Irish countryside. How can it be that me, a spit of a little girl from the south, could be blessed with all this?
Like I said, its different.
For those of you who have lived in the country, this isn't news. For you who have dreamed of living in the country, take note. I'm not saying its bad, or weird, or harder, or scary (though there are times); its just different.
For some reason, living out here, only 8 miles from town, I've begun to act and think differently. I find that I spend far too much time in reflection; thinking, deeply, about life and its nuances and how it has affected me. Its a simple thing really, or should be, to move to the country. I think I mean to 'live' in the country. Different, but better.
Better by far. I like spending time during a rain storm reflecting on how I came to be here, why I'm here, what needs to be done, and deeper ideas like 'today is all I have right now, best to make sure this day is a great one,' and 'if not for a man who left Ireland, and settled in Kansas, then the son of the son of the son of that man would not exist and we would not be here.'
See what I mean? Deep thoughts. Thankfully I don't have those all the time. Some times I'm just working, hard, at making sure things are ready when my contractor gives the word. I have no intention of having this project fall behind schedule because of my not being able to make a decision. So I also spend time, usually in the heat of the day, or during a rain storm (which we've had two major ones today) thinking, planning, choosing, looking at magazines, cutting out photos, writing, and generally making a plan to hand said contractor all my ideas, with materials, as soon as he ask for them. My plan is to say, "here are my plans, ideas, the materials to use, where I want things, how I want them to look and function; make it happen and stay under budget."
I think about alot since I've moved out here.
I think about the way I'm living, basic and rudimentary, and how it might seem unneccesary and rustic to some people, and comfortable and fortunate to others. I haven't really given up anything to live in the Tin Cottage for a couple of months. I'm living well. And, I've chosen to live this way. Well, I didn't choose to not have plumbing, but other than that, all is well. I eat well, have plenty to keep me busy, I have transportation, family nearby, money in the bank, I'm cool when its hot outside, dry when it rains... what else could I possibly need? Life is good. I think about the people who haven't chose to live without all those things. I say a prayer of thanks to the universe every day for all that I have.
I have.... a camping toilet now. I feel like a rich woman when I sit down to go potty. Its a luxury I hadn't planned on, but grateful to my mother-in-law for the gift. No one at her place was using it, so, it came to me. I'm learning that when you ask the universe for what you need, and you put it out there to people, you tend to get what you ask for. It might not be exactly what you were asking for, but you will be blessed.
I asked for a place to stay so I could be nearby while the house is being renovated. Check.
I asked for plumbing.
half a check. I have water nearby and a heat source. Close enough.
I asked for a toilet.
Big check!
I asked for some rain to cool us off.
Check again.
I asked for friends and family and time spent with them.
Check, check, check.
As I mentioned in the beginning, life in the country is different. A storm swelled up out of nowhere today and blew in a hard rain, strong winds, and hail. I was feeling anxious, then it passed and went on its way. I then spent some time trying to clean an antique stove I'm planning on using in the farmhouse. It looks good, so far. Then I rode my bike across the road and took a shower at my mom-in-laws. When I came out, the air outside had cooled and the clouds were hanging around. It was glorious.
As I rode my bike back to the Cottage, I was overwhelmed with my fortunes. With the cool air, the breeze at my back, my faithful dog running behind trying to keep up, my dry and lovely cottage that was loaned to me. I looked out over the green fields thinking I must be in the french or Irish countryside. How can it be that me, a spit of a little girl from the south, could be blessed with all this?
Its funny that I say 'all' this. Some people might think I have nothing right now. But I beg to differ. Its all perspective. I am sitting here, late at night, or early in the morning really, drinking good vodka from a pink china cup, eating chocolate-zucchini bread, listening to the rain on the roof, thinking about today, and looking at crystal chandeliers that I'd like to buy. Yes, crystal chandeliers.
Just because you live a simple, bare life doesn't mean you have to give up the bling.
Like I said, its different.
Friday, August 5, 2011
A Port-a-Potty, A Crane & 3 Deer, and Jambalaya...seriously.
Today, I so wanted to give in to the rage, frustration, helplessness, and confusion that my contractor tends to cause me whenever I hear from him lately. This morning he started early by sending me an email with information that I really didn't want to hear. That set the tone for the day; or so I thought.
First message is about a huge cost overage that we haven't approved, then others with more unexpected costs, followed by yet another useless email with something I requested days ago. I was shooting reply emails back as fast as I was getting his and feeling like I was getting my point across. Apparently, I was wrong. I have yet to get a reply from him to any of the messages & texts I sent him today. Boy, does that tend to set me off! That, and someone who doesn't keep promises they make. That, and men who cannot seem to find a way to treat me as a human and talk to me like they would if my male counterpart were asking the questions. I get so frustrated, I find myself turning into Frankenstein. I will realize that I'm stumbling around the room with my hands in the air, making strange sounds that sound like the ones Frankenstein would make when the villagers got too close with the fire. You know that noise? I'm getting so good at it.
By mid afternoon, still without any response from him, I was wound up even tighter about contractors because I had spent many minutes texting with my sister-in-law, then speaking on the phone with her, about HER contractor and how he isn't fulfilling his promises (read 'professional obligations' here) to her either. At that point, if I had needed something out of a can & couldn't find a can opener - no problem; I would have just shredded the can to empty the contents. Sadly, that doesn't sound like an exaggeration to me. I was really wound up!
When I get that way, I sometimes can't decide what I should do. I know I should calm down, think logically, find a solution, don't scream at any 'innocents' in my way, and definitely stop stomping around yelling 'aaaaaarrrrrrrrr', 'rrraaaaaarrrrrrrrr' the whole time. I feel helpless to get my contractor to really listen to me and do what I ask him to do. I wanted a confrontation with him, but he either never got my messages, or chose to ignore me all day. I'm going with the latter. So, I stewed over it all day. Most of the day. Enough to ruin my entire day. Almost.
At one moment during this day of disasters, I was putting something away when I suddenly remembered that I have the choice to be angry or not. The choice to be angry and take it out on the nearest soul. I have the choice to turn the day around and make it different. Thats usually too many choices for me. More than 3 and I start hyperventilating and asking a complete stranger nearby to make my choices for me. I never did make any. Not today.
What I did decide to do was to hole up here in the Tin Cottage, and do nothing. I wanted to be angry, for some reason, and I couldn't do that anywhere else. The day changed for me, when I decided to go take some photos of the house for reference.
I grabbed my cell phone, got on my bike, called the dog to follow, and headed down to the house to take some pictures and some measurements. I no longer take anyone else's word on anything, right now. By the time I got down there, dusk was just peeking its head in for the evening. The sky began to turn a dusty pink, then a brighter pink in just a few minutes. I was so eager to get back and fix some supper, then get ready for bed. But, I stayed. Oh, I'm so glad I did.
A few minutes later, I was feeling less anger, less frustration, less stress. I noticed the fields around the house were all brilliant green, there were birds flitting around playing their version of tag. I turned to head down the driveway and go back toward my place when I heard the sound of wings beating, and it sounded as if they were right over me! Well, they almost were. I turned to look and saw a giant crane swooping toward me as if he meant to have me, and my little dog too, for dinner! He was huge and he was swooping. I ducked just in time to see him land in an oak tree nearby. I walked toward the tree and, I imagine, spooked him so he flew off the tree and into the nearby timber.
I wanted to see where he had gone and had my eyes looking in that direction when I noticed movement in the trees next to the creek. I don't see far off very well, but I was sure something moved, so I got very still and waited. In a minute, or so, a doe walked out of the trees and put her ears up. She checked the field first, then without my seeing her do so, she gave the O.K. for the little ones to come out to have their evening meal in the brome field. The twins wanted to jump and play, but momma instructed them, I'm sure, how to be cautious when out in the field. It was obvious they just wanted to play. They jumped, kicked, and ran. That's all they did,but it was glorious watching them! I had knelt down in order to keep from disturbing them. It was so beautiful, I felt like crying.
I tried to take a photo of them, silly me. It was just barely night, but still too dark for me to take a picture. Then I noticed the two eagles in the tree...
Within a few hundred yard area, I witnessed a large gray crain; three dear playing in the field; and then two eagles sitting in the very top of a large tree down by the creek. I was overwhelmed with what I had witness and that I was chosen to have the experience.
Without those animals this evening, I don't know if my mood would have turned around or not. I'd like to think that they helped change my mood; I was suddenly feeling extremely blessed, not cursed. I got on my bike and slowly began the ride back to the tin cottage. The sun was setting, the frogs began their songs, and the moon popped over the house and trees just to say goodnight.
"Good night moon," I said. Then I offered a thanks to the universe for allowing me to experience all that had seen down by the house that is to soon be my home. I am a very, very blessed person. The port-o-potty and the jambalaya just don't seem that important now...I'll save those for another day. I just want to finish enjoying this one.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Still Showers...
I know. I just posted a few hours ago that I had ordered the showers, so I couldn't complain about the rain postponing the progress of the renovation.
And I have been sitting in the quiet of my tin can home, listening to and enjoying the sound of the raindrops on the metal roof. They are making a sound that I can only describe as a windchime made of tin, blowing in a gentle breeze. My faithful companion, Luna, is dozing at the end of my bed, trying to ignore the fly that keeps buzzing her ear. The old metal desk fan is doing its job of circulating the still cool air here inside. I have the luxury of writing, or perusing favorite blogs, shopping online, reading magazines, or simply doing nothing if I choose. Sounds perfectly idyllic, doesn't it?
I thought so too, until I realized that its been raining steadily for hours now. Normally that wouldn't be a problem; if I had plumbing in the tin can.
Oh, didn't I tell you that the '72 Airstream, perfect as it is, has no plumbing? Well, it is equipped with all the necessary pipes and valves and faucets, its just that no one can seem to 'fix' whatever is keeping the water from being pumped through the lines and out of faucets and then on to its final destination of disposal. Even a professed expert of all things "recreational vehicle", after looking at the system for about 10 minutes, declared that it would take "alot of time and thousands of dollars" to repair.
Well, me being me, quietly paid him for his time and waved him off without scheduling the, what I can only imagine would surely cost more than I am willing to pay, repair job.
"Silly man. He doesn't know that I will make do without plumbing. I have a water hydrant not more than 40 yards away that I can hook a hose to and use it to fill containers with water." In my dreamy state of having just moved into the little tin cottage, I was more than willing to heat water over a campstove to wash with and use a filtered water pitcher for drinking water. Luckily for me, my sister-in-laws newly renovated bungalow 100 yards away has toilet facilities. So, I have been perfectly content with heating the water when needed, using the facilities in the nearby house, showering across the pasture at my mother-in-law's place, and just making do.
Making do, until now 4 hours later, still raining, I'd really like to use a real toilet. I have to admit that, I have been using my own personal, plastic chamber pot. Its not porcelain, or vintage, or french, but it works in an emergency. I decided that all this rain was enough of an emergency to not run through the mud the 100 yds to sis's house.
Yes, I admit it; I used the plastic chamber pot. It is located in what is considered the bathroom in the camper, but othert han its location it is nothing like a real toilet. Ever been camping? Ever used an outhouse? Ever used the woods? All are better than this.
So, now I've decided that the emergency is that I need to run through the rain, in my granny dress housecoat and my red wellies and use the real bathroom.
Oh sure, just when I make that decision, it starts raining even harder. Oh well, some things are more important than getting wet. It's not like I'm afraid of melting - I'm not made out of sugar.
I'm certain that this will have an impact on my rethinking the 'vintage' bathroom I have been envisioning for the farmhouse. Some things just have to be modern!
Off I go...
And I have been sitting in the quiet of my tin can home, listening to and enjoying the sound of the raindrops on the metal roof. They are making a sound that I can only describe as a windchime made of tin, blowing in a gentle breeze. My faithful companion, Luna, is dozing at the end of my bed, trying to ignore the fly that keeps buzzing her ear. The old metal desk fan is doing its job of circulating the still cool air here inside. I have the luxury of writing, or perusing favorite blogs, shopping online, reading magazines, or simply doing nothing if I choose. Sounds perfectly idyllic, doesn't it?
I thought so too, until I realized that its been raining steadily for hours now. Normally that wouldn't be a problem; if I had plumbing in the tin can.
Oh, didn't I tell you that the '72 Airstream, perfect as it is, has no plumbing? Well, it is equipped with all the necessary pipes and valves and faucets, its just that no one can seem to 'fix' whatever is keeping the water from being pumped through the lines and out of faucets and then on to its final destination of disposal. Even a professed expert of all things "recreational vehicle", after looking at the system for about 10 minutes, declared that it would take "alot of time and thousands of dollars" to repair.
Well, me being me, quietly paid him for his time and waved him off without scheduling the, what I can only imagine would surely cost more than I am willing to pay, repair job.
"Silly man. He doesn't know that I will make do without plumbing. I have a water hydrant not more than 40 yards away that I can hook a hose to and use it to fill containers with water." In my dreamy state of having just moved into the little tin cottage, I was more than willing to heat water over a campstove to wash with and use a filtered water pitcher for drinking water. Luckily for me, my sister-in-laws newly renovated bungalow 100 yards away has toilet facilities. So, I have been perfectly content with heating the water when needed, using the facilities in the nearby house, showering across the pasture at my mother-in-law's place, and just making do.
Making do, until now 4 hours later, still raining, I'd really like to use a real toilet. I have to admit that, I have been using my own personal, plastic chamber pot. Its not porcelain, or vintage, or french, but it works in an emergency. I decided that all this rain was enough of an emergency to not run through the mud the 100 yds to sis's house.
Yes, I admit it; I used the plastic chamber pot. It is located in what is considered the bathroom in the camper, but othert han its location it is nothing like a real toilet. Ever been camping? Ever used an outhouse? Ever used the woods? All are better than this.
So, now I've decided that the emergency is that I need to run through the rain, in my granny dress housecoat and my red wellies and use the real bathroom.
Oh sure, just when I make that decision, it starts raining even harder. Oh well, some things are more important than getting wet. It's not like I'm afraid of melting - I'm not made out of sugar.
I'm certain that this will have an impact on my rethinking the 'vintage' bathroom I have been envisioning for the farmhouse. Some things just have to be modern!
Off I go...
I Did Order the Showers...Blame me.
Ah, Progress. Nothing like it when you're renovating a house. It gives you hope that you might actually get to spend some time in your newly renovated house before its time to pick out your nursing home.
Yesterday was like that for me. I knew better than to get excited about seeing progress, since it seemed like there hadn't been any in months, but I just couldn't help myself. I had finally had my long heart-to-heart meeting with my contractor, saw the concrete footings for the addition poured, met with the plumber and agreed on the layout of the new bathroom, and even was told to order and have delivered the first bath fixtures. So as I rode my bike back to the tin can I live in, all I could think about was getting online and picking out the new shower stalls for the two bathrooms. Corner stalls to take up less floor space, with chrome trim and faucets, and big enough for my 6'3 husband to fit into, were running through my mind as I rode. My mother in law happened to be over when I got back and I couldn't wait to tell her.
"The plumber said I can order the showers and have them delivered!"
She's been with us since the very beginning of this process and has ridden this wave of ups and downs also, so she got excited right along with me. I was practically giddy over the whole thing.
Well, I spent a couple of hours (yes, hours!) researching shower enclosure kits online all the while getting ready to hit the 'order' button. After my research, I decided the best thing to do would be to go into town, purchase the kits, pay for them after getting our 10% off, and have them delivered to the house. As I drifted off to sleep at 1 a.m. visions of frosted glass doors and chrome trim danced in my head.
"First thing in the morning, I'll head to town and get those showers. Finally, I'll have one thing checked off of the list."
I awoke early, and realizing it was much cooler outside than its been all week, I opened the door to let in the cool, fresh air. Started making my coffee and breakfast while making plans to head into town soon and order those showers.
Not five minutes later, I heard a noise outside. A strange, tinkling kind of sound.
I got dressed and headed out to investigate, when it hit me. A raindrop! Then another, and another. Almost stunned, I froze where I was, not realizing for a moment, that it was actually raining. I went back inside, opened the skylights and realized that, yes, its finally raining after months of dry, hot weather. Oh, we need the rain around here badly. Crops and gardens and yards have turned the color of straw. Farmers, and city folk alike, have been praying for this. Yep, it looks like a real soaker, finally.
I have to admit, I'm also happy that its raining. Happy for the farmers, happy for the gardeners, happy for the people in town with their perfectly manicured lawns... I'm just not happy that the rain puts my renovation on hold! Just when I was finally seeing great progress down there, here comes the rain and everything stops. No doubt the rain will get inside and soak all the wood floors, all the tools inside, make mud out of the newly dug dirt for the foundation, and find its way up under and inside of the tarps that are supposedly protecting all my earthly possessions now stored in boxes in the old barn.
I have no right to complain about this though.
After all, I did order showers.
Yesterday was like that for me. I knew better than to get excited about seeing progress, since it seemed like there hadn't been any in months, but I just couldn't help myself. I had finally had my long heart-to-heart meeting with my contractor, saw the concrete footings for the addition poured, met with the plumber and agreed on the layout of the new bathroom, and even was told to order and have delivered the first bath fixtures. So as I rode my bike back to the tin can I live in, all I could think about was getting online and picking out the new shower stalls for the two bathrooms. Corner stalls to take up less floor space, with chrome trim and faucets, and big enough for my 6'3 husband to fit into, were running through my mind as I rode. My mother in law happened to be over when I got back and I couldn't wait to tell her.
"The plumber said I can order the showers and have them delivered!"
She's been with us since the very beginning of this process and has ridden this wave of ups and downs also, so she got excited right along with me. I was practically giddy over the whole thing.
Well, I spent a couple of hours (yes, hours!) researching shower enclosure kits online all the while getting ready to hit the 'order' button. After my research, I decided the best thing to do would be to go into town, purchase the kits, pay for them after getting our 10% off, and have them delivered to the house. As I drifted off to sleep at 1 a.m. visions of frosted glass doors and chrome trim danced in my head.
"First thing in the morning, I'll head to town and get those showers. Finally, I'll have one thing checked off of the list."
I awoke early, and realizing it was much cooler outside than its been all week, I opened the door to let in the cool, fresh air. Started making my coffee and breakfast while making plans to head into town soon and order those showers.
Not five minutes later, I heard a noise outside. A strange, tinkling kind of sound.
I got dressed and headed out to investigate, when it hit me. A raindrop! Then another, and another. Almost stunned, I froze where I was, not realizing for a moment, that it was actually raining. I went back inside, opened the skylights and realized that, yes, its finally raining after months of dry, hot weather. Oh, we need the rain around here badly. Crops and gardens and yards have turned the color of straw. Farmers, and city folk alike, have been praying for this. Yep, it looks like a real soaker, finally.
I have to admit, I'm also happy that its raining. Happy for the farmers, happy for the gardeners, happy for the people in town with their perfectly manicured lawns... I'm just not happy that the rain puts my renovation on hold! Just when I was finally seeing great progress down there, here comes the rain and everything stops. No doubt the rain will get inside and soak all the wood floors, all the tools inside, make mud out of the newly dug dirt for the foundation, and find its way up under and inside of the tarps that are supposedly protecting all my earthly possessions now stored in boxes in the old barn.
I have no right to complain about this though.
After all, I did order showers.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
So My Contractor says to me....
Today started out like yesterday. I woke up early enough to enjoy the coolness of the morning so I made my coffee and breakfast and went outside. Unlike yesterday however, i was not besieged by legions of insects. Could it be that after only one day, they have either 1. gotten used to my presence already, or 2. my presence has caused them all to vacate the premises. either way, i'm ok with them not bugging me (that pun was intended). While enjoying my b'fast and cafe au lait, my contractor drove by. I waved. Then waited.
I have been trying to get him to communicate with me for a month. I've begun to take it personally and believe that he is intentionally avoiding me for some reason unknown to me. I texted him. I waited. I got dress, brushed my teeth, put away the b'fast dishes.
Then I got the text that he would be at the house for awhile as he was waiting on the plumber. I don't have alot of experience with plumbers, but enough to know that this one likely would not be right out and I would have plenty of one to one time with my contractor.
I got on my bike and steared it toward the house and his last known location.
Maybe I should explain here that I believe contractors are a breed to themselves. They can be charming, in the beginning, while they are wooing you for your contract. Down right charming is what they can be. Then, right on cue, as soon as the contract is signed,
they act as if they just put a ring on your finger and they disappear. You can text them, email them, call them, threaten them, plead with them, even ignore them. Nothing gets them to respond the way you expect them. Just because you're paying their bills doesn't mean they have to answer your calls. Please, don't even insult them like that. I found that what does work, is to meet with them face to face.
Dont plan it or put it on your schedule, just show up. Works like a charm.
I showed up and we exchanged pleasantries; your usual 'good morning', 'how are you?', 'so....?' and then an awkward silence. I, for some reason, saw the span of silence as an opportunity to say everything I've been wanting to say. "I feel as if there's tension between us." It just came out. I'm surprised I didn't end the sentence with "dear." It suddenly felt as if I were trying to get hubby to 'open up... just talk to me... we don't communicate anymore...' I'm sure you recognize those lines.
I swear when I said that, he looked up at me with surprise in his eyes and said, "really? why do you think that?"
Well, there it was, my open door, my chance to explain how his ignoring me has left me feeling unnecessary and unwanted. How my feelings have been hurt that he hasn't been communicating with me, all the time. No, I didn't say any of that actually. What I did say
was something much less emotional. Then we started getting honest. Well, at least i did. Later, he did too. Lots of positive things were said, progress was made, an understanding was reached, we summarized our meeting just to make sure we agreed on how to proceed, then he hugged me and apologized. Most importantly he promised to communicate with me more often, which was basically all I was asking. That and for him to not go over the budget, Please! (I admit I actually told him we were concerned about the economy and our finances!) I left feeling that it went well. Now I wait....to see if he meant everything he said. Please let him follow through!!
I rode my bike back to my little camper home and starting cleaning up the b'fast dishes, which only takes a minute since I'm using paper plates (don't judge!). "After awhile I noticed that it was getting warm inside and I heard the AC groaning. It was working
so hard to cool this aluminum container, that I just gave up, turned the A/C off, grabbed a blanket, some magazines, and the dog, and marched right up to my sister-in-law's house and spread out on the floor right under her new A/C unit! It was beautiful. I have to remember make sure my contractor knows how just important a working A/C is to me.
Maybe I should write it down for him.
I have been trying to get him to communicate with me for a month. I've begun to take it personally and believe that he is intentionally avoiding me for some reason unknown to me. I texted him. I waited. I got dress, brushed my teeth, put away the b'fast dishes.
Then I got the text that he would be at the house for awhile as he was waiting on the plumber. I don't have alot of experience with plumbers, but enough to know that this one likely would not be right out and I would have plenty of one to one time with my contractor.
I got on my bike and steared it toward the house and his last known location.
Maybe I should explain here that I believe contractors are a breed to themselves. They can be charming, in the beginning, while they are wooing you for your contract. Down right charming is what they can be. Then, right on cue, as soon as the contract is signed,
they act as if they just put a ring on your finger and they disappear. You can text them, email them, call them, threaten them, plead with them, even ignore them. Nothing gets them to respond the way you expect them. Just because you're paying their bills doesn't mean they have to answer your calls. Please, don't even insult them like that. I found that what does work, is to meet with them face to face.
Dont plan it or put it on your schedule, just show up. Works like a charm.
I showed up and we exchanged pleasantries; your usual 'good morning', 'how are you?', 'so....?' and then an awkward silence. I, for some reason, saw the span of silence as an opportunity to say everything I've been wanting to say. "I feel as if there's tension between us." It just came out. I'm surprised I didn't end the sentence with "dear." It suddenly felt as if I were trying to get hubby to 'open up... just talk to me... we don't communicate anymore...' I'm sure you recognize those lines.
I swear when I said that, he looked up at me with surprise in his eyes and said, "really? why do you think that?"
Well, there it was, my open door, my chance to explain how his ignoring me has left me feeling unnecessary and unwanted. How my feelings have been hurt that he hasn't been communicating with me, all the time. No, I didn't say any of that actually. What I did say
was something much less emotional. Then we started getting honest. Well, at least i did. Later, he did too. Lots of positive things were said, progress was made, an understanding was reached, we summarized our meeting just to make sure we agreed on how to proceed, then he hugged me and apologized. Most importantly he promised to communicate with me more often, which was basically all I was asking. That and for him to not go over the budget, Please! (I admit I actually told him we were concerned about the economy and our finances!) I left feeling that it went well. Now I wait....to see if he meant everything he said. Please let him follow through!!
I rode my bike back to my little camper home and starting cleaning up the b'fast dishes, which only takes a minute since I'm using paper plates (don't judge!). "After awhile I noticed that it was getting warm inside and I heard the AC groaning. It was working
so hard to cool this aluminum container, that I just gave up, turned the A/C off, grabbed a blanket, some magazines, and the dog, and marched right up to my sister-in-law's house and spread out on the floor right under her new A/C unit! It was beautiful. I have to remember make sure my contractor knows how just important a working A/C is to me.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Simplicity
Today I defrosted the freezer in my new pad. While doing this I had lots of time to think about how simple life can, and should, be. Lots of time because defrosting this freezer required my leaving it open so the bergs of ice would melt enough for me to chop them out with a butter knife. It took awhile. But it was time well spent.
When you're chopping ice out of a 40 year old freezer with a butter knife, you have lots of time to think about life. Maybe too much time, but I kept coming back to the idea of Simplicity.
A few years ago, my friend Deb, invited me to attend weekly meetings at a church members house where we would all discuss our busy lives and ways we could practice Simplicity. I went every week; I was faithful. I made my vision board, listened to each lady tell their story of how they were seeking a simpler life, I practiced living simply...more like I pretended to practice simplicity in my life.
I had no idea exactly how simple life can be. Even without my intentionally making it so.
Years ago I read Joan Anderson's book, "A Year by the Sea" and have been inspired by her courage since. I doubt that she saw her retreat from life as being courageous, but to me, it was. She felt 'unfinished' and in a stagnant relationship. So she abandoned her typical, suburban, obedient life and retreated to a cottage by the sea for a year, alone. Boggles the mind of most women to think about doing such a thing! Now, I find myself living my own version of 'by the sea' and wondering just exactly how I got here.
My motivations for living in a 24' camper with no plumbing, parked next to a creek, cooking over a one burner camp stove, my only companion my deaf, but extremely loyal, 15 year old dog, must be different than Joan's. They are different, aren't they, I ask myself. Maybe they're not so different.
I tell myself I am here living simply, because I am the project manager of the renovation of our farmhouse; our 'forever' house, we like to call it. Someone has to be close by to make sure the contractor is doing his job, right? Who else knows where to put the sinks in the bathroom or which direction to place the tub so that I can look out the window at the field when I'm soaking after a long day? Who else, indeed? In a day of such advanced technology where a phone can give me instant contact with my contractor, and with photos no less, why is it so important for me to have given up my regular life to be here?
I honestly cannot answer my own questions at this time. What I do know is that the house is coming along, whether I do anything or not. It will be finished one day. I also know that when I'm walking down the dusty country road that leads me to the house I will start my live over in, once again, I am awed by something as simple as the sunset. By how many butterflies there can be in one square yard of a hay field, and how quiet it can be out here deep in the countryside.
Whatever motivated my coming here is irrelevant, at this time. What is relevant is that I am finally and authentically living simply. Simply living. It doesn't take much to appreciate what you have when you don't have too much. Turns out practicing effort without effort is simple when you have the perfect location to practice.
When you're chopping ice out of a 40 year old freezer with a butter knife, you have lots of time to think about life. Maybe too much time, but I kept coming back to the idea of Simplicity.
A few years ago, my friend Deb, invited me to attend weekly meetings at a church members house where we would all discuss our busy lives and ways we could practice Simplicity. I went every week; I was faithful. I made my vision board, listened to each lady tell their story of how they were seeking a simpler life, I practiced living simply...more like I pretended to practice simplicity in my life.
I had no idea exactly how simple life can be. Even without my intentionally making it so.
Years ago I read Joan Anderson's book, "A Year by the Sea" and have been inspired by her courage since. I doubt that she saw her retreat from life as being courageous, but to me, it was. She felt 'unfinished' and in a stagnant relationship. So she abandoned her typical, suburban, obedient life and retreated to a cottage by the sea for a year, alone. Boggles the mind of most women to think about doing such a thing! Now, I find myself living my own version of 'by the sea' and wondering just exactly how I got here.
My motivations for living in a 24' camper with no plumbing, parked next to a creek, cooking over a one burner camp stove, my only companion my deaf, but extremely loyal, 15 year old dog, must be different than Joan's. They are different, aren't they, I ask myself. Maybe they're not so different.
I tell myself I am here living simply, because I am the project manager of the renovation of our farmhouse; our 'forever' house, we like to call it. Someone has to be close by to make sure the contractor is doing his job, right? Who else knows where to put the sinks in the bathroom or which direction to place the tub so that I can look out the window at the field when I'm soaking after a long day? Who else, indeed? In a day of such advanced technology where a phone can give me instant contact with my contractor, and with photos no less, why is it so important for me to have given up my regular life to be here?
I honestly cannot answer my own questions at this time. What I do know is that the house is coming along, whether I do anything or not. It will be finished one day. I also know that when I'm walking down the dusty country road that leads me to the house I will start my live over in, once again, I am awed by something as simple as the sunset. By how many butterflies there can be in one square yard of a hay field, and how quiet it can be out here deep in the countryside.
Whatever motivated my coming here is irrelevant, at this time. What is relevant is that I am finally and authentically living simply. Simply living. It doesn't take much to appreciate what you have when you don't have too much. Turns out practicing effort without effort is simple when you have the perfect location to practice.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Not that anybody cares, but...
It is Saturday night, and I ain't got nobody. Twenty years ago, I would have been bugging the hubby to take me out dancing, which I love to do, but these nights, not so much.
Not so much dancing, or partying, or staying up too late, or much of anything else I was so intent on doing twenty years ago. These days, its all about starting over; doing things differently. As Bob Dylan said, "the times they are a changing".
What's changed is that I have given up my job, left my husband in TX, moved to KS, and started the renovation of a 100+ year old farmhouse on his family farm. For some reason, I decided that I couldn't get this renovation done while living there in TX and trying to continue having a "normal" life. No, I had to pack up most of my things, get in a truck, move to KS, move in with my daughter, and start the renovation process. Oh the things I didn't know that I didn't know!! I'll be writing a book later about how to renovate an older home, but until then, I'll attempt to bring you along on this journey with me. What a journey it has been already. I only wish I had started writing about it the first week I arrived in KS. That would be the week of the worst blizzard here anyone could remember!
I arrived with a truck of furniture, a dog, and a cat and two days later, wound up shoveling snow away from the door just the dog could go outside. Thanks for the great welcome, Kansas! I quickly learned how to use a snow shovel. There's no trick to it really, just lots of elbow grease. Funny how you can't remember how cold it was or how miserable you were when its 100 degrees outside. From a blizzard to a heat wave. I have experienced it all since I've been here.
To digress just a bit, I survived the blizzard of 2011. Learned to enjoy riding my bike around town to the farmer's market, shopping, & trying new restaurants. Welcomed spring with wide open arms. Watched gardens sprout from seeds to fruit and learned to not wear anything that will elevate the body temperature. Spring is beautiful in Kansas. It brings not only showers and flowers, but bugs by the millions. Ok, maybe not millions, but definitely two that inflict so much torment on you that it seems like millions. Chiggers and ticks. I despise them SO much. I will learn the secret to keeping them from devouring my flesh!
I wish I could say that chiggers and ticks have been the worst of my problems here. Oh, how I wish that were true. I did mention that I'm here to renovate an old farmhouse, didn't I? And that I'm living here until said farmhouse is liveable? I did, huh? Good. Because this is where my story really begins...
Not so much dancing, or partying, or staying up too late, or much of anything else I was so intent on doing twenty years ago. These days, its all about starting over; doing things differently. As Bob Dylan said, "the times they are a changing".
What's changed is that I have given up my job, left my husband in TX, moved to KS, and started the renovation of a 100+ year old farmhouse on his family farm. For some reason, I decided that I couldn't get this renovation done while living there in TX and trying to continue having a "normal" life. No, I had to pack up most of my things, get in a truck, move to KS, move in with my daughter, and start the renovation process. Oh the things I didn't know that I didn't know!! I'll be writing a book later about how to renovate an older home, but until then, I'll attempt to bring you along on this journey with me. What a journey it has been already. I only wish I had started writing about it the first week I arrived in KS. That would be the week of the worst blizzard here anyone could remember!
I arrived with a truck of furniture, a dog, and a cat and two days later, wound up shoveling snow away from the door just the dog could go outside. Thanks for the great welcome, Kansas! I quickly learned how to use a snow shovel. There's no trick to it really, just lots of elbow grease. Funny how you can't remember how cold it was or how miserable you were when its 100 degrees outside. From a blizzard to a heat wave. I have experienced it all since I've been here.
To digress just a bit, I survived the blizzard of 2011. Learned to enjoy riding my bike around town to the farmer's market, shopping, & trying new restaurants. Welcomed spring with wide open arms. Watched gardens sprout from seeds to fruit and learned to not wear anything that will elevate the body temperature. Spring is beautiful in Kansas. It brings not only showers and flowers, but bugs by the millions. Ok, maybe not millions, but definitely two that inflict so much torment on you that it seems like millions. Chiggers and ticks. I despise them SO much. I will learn the secret to keeping them from devouring my flesh!
I wish I could say that chiggers and ticks have been the worst of my problems here. Oh, how I wish that were true. I did mention that I'm here to renovate an old farmhouse, didn't I? And that I'm living here until said farmhouse is liveable? I did, huh? Good. Because this is where my story really begins...
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