Love’s Labor is Not Lost

It’s been two years since my granny passed away. It’s funny how time moves so fast while we seem to trudge through it. Two years gone. How many years before that lost to Alzheimers? Too many.

I had a particularly close relationship with my grandparents. I practically lived with them as a child, then I did live with them my first year in college. After my granddad passed away, I again lived with granny until I was married.

After she was gone, I started thinking about the things I wish I had of hers. When she was alive, I felt it was grotesque to take her things. Like she would somehow snap out of dementia and need them all again. Now I wish I had just a few.

 

One in particular was an old metal glider that sat on the back patio. She and grandpa would drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and glide every morning. After he passed away, she could be found there often – sitting on his side – smoking, drinking coffee and gliding.

She sat there while grandbabies played in the small pool at her feet. She sat there in the evenings a few times when she had wine. I joined her there for her afternoon smoke in the summer when I came home from class before I zipped off to work.

 

And always, we would glide.

For my 40^th birthday, I asked my mom for one present, this rusty old glider. It was not granny’s, but it is reminiscent enough to fill my needs.

It was a weekend’s labor to sand, strip, paint and finish it. (That whole "lead-based paint thing".. yeah.)

My goal was not only to have a reminder, but a place holder for the next generation. I want my family to sit next to me and glide while I drink my coffee every morning, talk about my tomatoes or read my book in the sunshine.

I need my son to find his spot on the glider. And maybe when I'm gone, he will take this piece of me to his house for his children and grandchildren to remember. 

It was a labor of love, but it was worth it to replace a small piece of her that was lost. 

Put it on the 'made up projects' setting

Recently my friend and I had a discussion about 'made up projects.' I will claim this badge of honor with pride. 

I regularly 'make up' projects to do around my house that occupy my attention and dollars. I build flower beds. I paint -- then re-paint -- rooms. I love to move around the furniture and my art work cycles through each room. I remove and replace light fixtures. I spackle rotted spots on my house and paint them. I caulk. I organize. I spay paint. I know no other way. 

To me these aren't made up projects, they are just projects. I like my home very much. Some projects are maintenance and must be done. Most are superficial and bring me joy upon conclusion. 

I think it also speaks volumes about my ability to find satisfaction in the every day. Planting and growing a small flower bed that I water every hot night through the summer is my non-vacationing, suburban version of lying on a warm beach. 

I also interpret this to mean I'm not adverse to change. What is more changeable than your very home? Your safest space? I change. I experiment. I grow my brain. I create new projects. 

So this weekend I'm making up a project to paint my living room. I'll take volunteers. Must be prepared to grow your brain and watch change happen before your very eyes.  

I will pay you in bourbon. 

Don't go away mad, just go away!

Have you heard we're in a recession? And did you also hear that said recession may have been caused by the giant mortgage bubble that burst and took most of the large banks with it? I know, crazy stuff, right?

So how is it that I slide into a new job, the hubby's company is going gangbusters and, AND we sold our house in two weeks? All good questions. These and many other important questions will never be answered in your lifetime, so just stop asking.

The truth is, we're doing so well, we should be frightened. And yet, somehow we're thriving. It's unheard of for a house to sell in two weeks right now. Forty-five days is the norm. The house we're buying has been on market for a year. And yet...

It defies explaination. So, I choose to ignore what I don't understand, listen to the new U2 album, which I may have gotten a little early and read about comets from infinity. That stuff freaks me out, it's so cool!!

Which one of you a-holes is going to help me pack?

Soupy sales

You know that saying, "when it rains...it pours?" Hmmm...

I have a new job. I applied for it last Fall and never thought about it again. In January I went for an interview. I was pretty sure I was in top form and apparently I was right because they called back a few days later and offered me the gig. It's permanent part-time, with benefits and paid time off. Hello! It's also blocks from my house. And, wait there's more, it's a Web writing job -- my all-time favorite. It's a creamy dreamy lovey dovey kind of job. Of course I accepted.

At the same time, I mentioned to the hubby that I wanted to look inside this house that has been sitting empty for more than a year. I drive by. Wonder about the interior. Why won't someone buy this house? So we looked. And we bought.

Ok, we offered and now we have to sell our house. In two weeks we have a new job, with new benefits, a new house in the future and a brand-new for sale sign in the yard.

Does that count as pouring?

Fortress of solitude

Ok, so there's no solitude and it lacks a certain 'fortressness' but it's where I sit when I want to be still and quiet which I seem to get very rarely these days.