Closed

My house is sold!  Yippee!!!  Now we only have one house payment.  Maybe we can sort of be like a normal couple now.  Wow, wonder what that is like?

When the realtor called to warn me that a woman was going to call me to get information about the payoff of my mortgage yesterday, my heart began beating out a stomping tap dance.  I could just feel myself screwing up into a tight wad.  I gathered the information after a couple of phone calls to Mike and returned the woman's call.  I passed along the information that she needed and made notes for what else I needed to do.  I continued to gather the things and information I needed together.  For the rest of the day I felt like I was some sort of tension spring.  I tried to go to bed and sleep but just couldn't.  So, I got up and read awile and finally crawled back between the sheets at about 1:20 this morning.  Yet, I was more awake at five o'clock than I have been on previous days.  Nervous energy, I guess. 

I know that when you buy or sell a house the final paper signing is called a closing because you are closing the deal.  However, to me, it is also the closing of a chapter of my life.  After wallowing in my misery for a while following my divorce, I became a defensive, angry woman.  During this stage of emotions, I set out to show the world that I could make it on my own and could even be larger than life.  How exhausting that was!  I'd hate for anybody to think I'm not proud of all I accomplished during the last ten or so years.  However, when I really analyze the situation, that period in my life was mostly just a transition period and the journey itself was the important part.  That house in Rover will always hold a special place in my heart.  I hope I'm never on my own like that again.  But, if ever I am, I hope I can make the same amount of progress on a journey to wherever I need to be next.  I sat up and questioned my decisions and reflected on my journey and tried to map out goals and a plan for the future last night.  Tonight, I count my blessings and am thankful for where that journey has carried me.  I look across the room at the man I get the opportunity to share my life with now and my heart beats a little bit like a tap dance - but it isn't one of anxiety.  It is truly one of thanksgiving and anticipation for what is around the next bend in the road.

Kitchen Before and After

When I walked into this house, the first thing I realized I liked was the kitchen.  I love to cook and this is a kitchen for cooking.  There is plenty of cabinet space, counter space, and room to move around.  Yet, everything seems right at hand.  I love the distressed-over-time finish of the cabinets.  I love all the windows letting in light.  I love the fireplace.  I just love it!

I must admit that at first I was a little bit overwhelmed with all that Waverly fruit on the walls, though!

Whew!  That was a lot of fruit! 

As you can see in the photo below, it is a cheerful, butter-yellow color now.  (except for a small area behind the fridge - maybe some day I'll get some help moving it out and get that painted, too) I tried to match a color that is in some of the rocks of the fireplace.  I've never been a yellow person before but it just seemed to fit in here.

I guess if I ever change something it will be the greenish tint of the counter tops and update the ceiling fans to ones which have several light bulbs.  I'm thinking something like a dark granite might look nice but there are so many other things I'd like to do elsewhere first.  Over the stove is a Land-O-Lakes butter tin tray.  It has hung in every kitchen I've ever had as an adult.  I think I got it with a couple of box tops and a couple of dollars about thirty years ago.  The other things hanging between the cabinets and counter top are cross-stitched pieces and a print given to me as gifts by family members.  The chopping block in the foreground on the left was crafted by former students in a cabinet making class.  The red chairs were a purchase at a second hand store and came with a simple table that is in the basement in my sewing room.  All that is missing from the photo which always paints a sleepy smile on my Sunday morning face is my sweet breakfast cook stirring up something tasty and fattening like bacon, eggs, and biscuits with a side of gravy.  Yum... the smell of coffee tickling my nose...what a luxurious life I get to lead sometimes.  I love Sunday mornings!

Here is the dining end.  Again, all that fruit!  There was also a still life fruit print on the wall when I first walked into that room.  Wow, that sure is lots of fruit!

This shot does show up the wall of windows and the French doors which let in loads of light and help me to feel like the outside is inside sometimes.  In warm weather we sometimes leave the doors flung open and the kitchen and deck just seamlessly become one room.  That makes for a large dance floor for my partner and me to dance around on.  It also makes lots of room for folks to stand around and talk and munch and sip.  Below is the after shot. 

Hanging on the wall are some beautiful Spode plates that I picked up here and there.  I don't think I've paid over five dollars for any piece of my blue and white except maybe a couple of them.  I got the china cabinet at the same second hand antique mall in Franklin where I got the red chairs.  It has a couple of scratches on it that the former owners put in it but I love the warm wood color of it and it holds lots of china and sparkly crystal and serving pieces.  I fell in love with the curtain print when I visited the house of a friend's mother-in-law.  She had this print of flower bulbs blooming in blue and white pots in her sun room.  I fell in love with it because of the pots but I also like the blooms and the colors.  I lined them with some fabric that Mom and I had made balloon shades for a sliding glass door in the first house I ever owned.  Yes, I'm a saver and recycler and fabric is one of those things I stick back and reuse if I really like the print or the colors.  One never knows when it will perk up something else someday.  The table and strait backed chairs belonged to some distant relative of Mike's.  His mother bought them for him and his family years ago.  They used them a while and sold them or gave them away.  Then, his mother saw them at somebody else's sale and bought them again when Mike and his crew needed them.  So, they have a good story.  I love the table but the chairs are ultra uncomfortable to sit in because they are so straight.  They are unique and sturdy and interesting but just not comfortable for long sits or lingering and chatting.  So, someday maybe I'll make new seat covers and use them in bedrooms as extra chairs for folks to drape their clothes on or to sit in and put on shoes.  We have three different kinds of chairs in this kitchen and I don't really like any of them.  So, one of my goals is to find ten to twelve chairs that are inexpensive, comfortable, and similar.  I'm dreaming of a wide rush seat and curved back - something that looks French-Country-ish.

I just realized that I don't have a photo of the fireplace and my Granny Cabinet.  So, more kitchen 'after' pictures will have to come later.



Grey and Rainy

Water and mud.  That is all we seem to have right now.  It may be from the days gone by that I don't like rain because all it seems to do is cause trouble at times - especially this season when I don't have flowers or vegetables which need a drink.  I know that the earth needs that reserve but right now all it seems to be doing is leaving water and mud.

When the sky is grey and rainy, my mood seems to be the same.  I'm not even getting to enjoy it by snuggling up with a good book and cup of coffee.  What else would you do when the weather is like this? 

Frustrating Hindrance

My blogging this weekend has been hindered by my own lack of gracefulness.  I was hanging something on Friday afternoon and made a miss-step when climbing off the ladder and fell.  It may not look so high - but for an old, overweight, clumsy, tired woman that third rung is a long drop to the hard, solid floor! 

The second I told Mike what I had done he began fussing at me - climbing on a ladder when I'm alone, had no business doing that, it could have waited...  All those things I knew already and was mentally kicking my own shocked hind side about between grumbles and moans.  Then, I frustrated him because I refused to go to the emergency room to have my hand/wrist/shoulder checked and treated.  Mainly, I think he was frustrated because I was in pain and there was nothing he could do to make it go away. 

I did agree to go to the walk-in clinic yesterday for X-rays.  The radiologist report says everything looks OK but I have a beautiful brace and still have some pain in my wrist - only when I move it - and lots of frustration all the time.

Clean Sweep

How can two adults create such a mess?  I'll swear that there must be somebody slipping in here while Mike and I are at work or maybe while we are sleeping  and tracking in and messing up the floors.  Is there really any way to keep the floors clean without having it be a regular chore? 

I wonder how well those little automatic vacuum cleaners work.  As much as I like having clean floors, actually having to clean the floor is one job I just HATE!  I know that there are really no little fairies who clean during the night while I sleep like that childhood story.  However, wouldn't that be close to the same thing?

Operator's Manuals and Magic Wands

Wouldn't it be nice if there was an operator's manual for parenting?  Or maybe being issued a magic wand when we are handed the child...  Isn't that a magnificent idea? 

Several of my co-workers are young women with young families.  I listen to them talking about the hurdles they are facing and count my lucky stars that I'm not in that stage of life now.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm empathetic because I haven't forgotten how it feels to just wish the children would sleep through the night a couple of nights in a row so that I could.  Then, we went through the phase where I just wished everybody could get their own drink and use the potty - and I could use the potty without somebody following me in there or even standing outside the door asking me a question. 

I remember how exhausting it was to take this child to practice and the other child to some sort of lesson and get dinner in them and be sure they had homework and somehow fit laundry, vacuuming, and dish washing in, too.  Plus, there was also the grocery shopping and getting the oil changed and having a gift for the birthday party on Saturday.  There was also that phase where I just wished we could get through six months without somebody having a cast and needing physical therapy.  Then, there was the worry about their driving skills and the traffic they would be dodging or was the young person they were going to the movie with a safe driver? 

Then came the questions about who this was they were spending so much time with and what kind of background did they come from?  What were their people like?  Why couldn't we ask for a resume' from those folks the children were choosing as dates? 

Next, I was asking, "Don't you think you all are a bit young for that?  Why don't you wait six months and see if you feel the same way about him/her?"  (Truthfully, there were really more times when I thought, 'Gosh I hope they don't mess this up because I really like this one!)

Somehow they survived and grew up in spite of me and my lack of an operator's manual to guide my parenting skills.  They are out on their own and making their way in the world now.  I stand in the hallway or sit at the community lunch table and listen to my co-workers hoping that tonight will be the second consecutive night that their little one sleeps for a six-hour stretch or sharing their schedule of practice on Monday, lessons on Tuesday, church on Wednesday, school play on Thursday, sleep-over birthday party on Friday, and Saturday ballgames.  So often I want to tell them that someday that will all look easy.  I want to encourage them to cherish this phase because a more challenging one is on the horizon.  I want to let them know that I understand that what they are weathering through seems like it is taking a toll on their lives and wearing them down.  Yet, these hurdles they are clearing are managable still.  I pause and wonder how I survived all that and give thanks that I'm not living it right now. 

Then, I have a conversation with one of my children and they tell me of their grown up hurdles.  Jobs being phased out within a few months, graduate classes, job interviews and the prospects of relocating, dealing with their own parenting hurdles, all of these things they are dealing with now that require so much more than just a nap or a bandaid. 

It makes me appreciate my own parents so much more.  Knowing how my folks have faced and overcome their hurdles and stood by me while I overcame my own gives me inspiration.  It would be so nice to have an operator's manual or a magic wand, though, wouldn't it?

Beans, Beans. They're good for your heart.

I have the most wonderful husband in the world.  Today, as a treat for him, I decided that I would cook something for dinner that he really loves.  So, I dumped the bag of white beans onto the counter and sorted through them and swept them into the pot.  I covered them with water, added the secret recipe flavoring, and set them on to boil.  Carefully watching them, I waited till the water had come to a rolling boil and immediately turned the heat down so that it would just barely bubble.  Popped the lid on and tromped out the door.  I had a couple of chores to do and then I came back into the house.  Oh, the delectible fragrance wafting across the room to greet me!  Yum!  So, I tip-toed over and checked the beans and gave them a swirl.  Then, wonder of wonders, I remembered and set the timer and left them alone for an entire hour. 

When Mike came in, he was all smiles at the fragrance which greeted him.  I thought I was finally getting this straight-to-the-heart-sort-of-loving down.  Yippee!  Go me!  Then, I went in and mixed up the cornbread - trying to remember all the tips my mother had given me to try to make it the thin, crusty way Mike has said he likes it.  Into the oven went the cornbread and I plopped down on the couch to chat with my sweet husband and catch up with the day. 

Sniff.  Sniff.  Oh no!  I could smell the scorchiness.  Yep, I burnt the beans!  ARGH!!!  That wasn't tragic enough though.  While I was using every curse word I know and making up a few new ones and trying to salvage the topmost sector of the beans, the next thing I know there is a trickle of smoke escaping from the oven - Oh no!  Yep, I burnt the cornbread, too!  Heaping more cursing onto this new disaster, I just couldn't help it.  The tears began to flow.  My treat for Mike was a devastating disaster.  Plus, we now had nothing to eat for dinner because we had taken the leftovers from last night as lunch today. 

Just like the song says, Mike eased over to me and wrapped his arms around me and let me cry.  He was probably murmuring some sort of reassurance the entire time but finally I stopped sobbing and heard him say, "Baby, it was only a ninety-nine cent bag of beans."  You know, at the end of the day, that is really the truth and what matters most is that he realized that the gift was the fact that I had tried to have something special just for him.  With a kiss, he brushed a tear away and assured me that he loves me. 

I have the most wonderful husband in the world.