Time to wrap it up. Packing to head over to my parents' for the night and then flying out tomorrow afternoon for Australia.
Or, rather, I should be packing, but with a week full of helping Grice study for early exams squeezed in after school and completing a major science fair project and remembering to shop for one or two small gifts for Santa to deliver and packing and moving more crap from our old house and Grice setting the alarm clock and inadvertently messing up the time setting so that the alarm went off this morning at 1:30 AM but told us it was 5:45 AM and we were up and dressed before we realized the error, I'm of a mind to sit here on the internet and wait for my clothes to jump in the suitcases by themselves. I'll be sure to post a clip of it on YouTube if it happens.
Going light, bringing my trusty Mac, my iPhone (which will do everything I need it to do except actually make phone calls), and a couple changes of clothes. That's more than I need for nearly a month away.
I'm planning to pick up with posts over on Road Schola while we're traveling, but in case I don't see you over there, I hope you have a wonderful, peaceful holiday.
See you next year.
Random Classic Art
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Yes, Sir, yes, Sir...
...actually, four bags full.
That was how many bags of yard trash I collected yesterday. And that was only because I wandered over to the other house late in the afternoon to look for something on the porch and got distracted by all the new vines I spotted along the way. If I'd set out earlier in the day with the intention of doing some clipping, it would have been much worse.
Chop, chop, chop. Hack, hack, hack.
My goal was merely to separate the plants that had overgrown each other. Now the landscaping between the houses looks a little barren, but that's what had to be done, the plants were killing each other, and until the spring it'll probably remain that way.
While I was removing greenery, all the neighbors on our street, even the people who are only renting to own the house we first came to see in this neighborhood, were busy draping their houses in it, putting their holiday decorations up: Boughs of holly, evergreen wreaths, lights, giant inflatable Mickey Santas... In fact the lease/option neighbors put us to shame by setting up not one, not two, but three decorated Christmas trees on their second story deck. So when I ended up at the grocery store later and saw all the poinsettias on sale, peer pressure got the better of me and I went home with the back of my Excursion full of the red and green plants.
That was how many bags of yard trash I collected yesterday. And that was only because I wandered over to the other house late in the afternoon to look for something on the porch and got distracted by all the new vines I spotted along the way. If I'd set out earlier in the day with the intention of doing some clipping, it would have been much worse.
Chop, chop, chop. Hack, hack, hack.
My goal was merely to separate the plants that had overgrown each other. Now the landscaping between the houses looks a little barren, but that's what had to be done, the plants were killing each other, and until the spring it'll probably remain that way.
While I was removing greenery, all the neighbors on our street, even the people who are only renting to own the house we first came to see in this neighborhood, were busy draping their houses in it, putting their holiday decorations up: Boughs of holly, evergreen wreaths, lights, giant inflatable Mickey Santas... In fact the lease/option neighbors put us to shame by setting up not one, not two, but three decorated Christmas trees on their second story deck. So when I ended up at the grocery store later and saw all the poinsettias on sale, peer pressure got the better of me and I went home with the back of my Excursion full of the red and green plants.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Day After
Made it through Black Friday without a scratch. It's not something I'd ever feel the need to repeat again, that heading out at the crack of dawn, jockeying for parking spaces, fighting crowds for "doorbusters," waiting in lines, spending money. Well, maybe excepting a 5:00 AM trip to our local Home Depot a friend made for the $.99 poinsettias that she says they promote every year...that might have been worth it, but I'd rather just give her ten dollars next year and have her pick some up on my behalf.
I pulled into the parking lot of Bed, Bath and Beyond and called a friend who had posted on her Facebook page the night before looking for a shopping buddy to see where she was. She was still in bed. But she got right up when I told her where I was and met me very shortly afterward. She is a real shopper, likes to check all over, knows what and when the sales prices should be. I have my trusted favorites: Old Navy, Target, and Macy's (the trip to Bed, Bath and Beyond was a fruitless aberration and I'll never do that again), and go looking for specifics. I feel solidarity with the old men sitting around waiting for their wives outside the dressing rooms. Yesterday she stretched my comfort zone a little, making sure I checked for the twin duvets I wanted at Bells, Sears, and J.C. Penney's before Macy's, and we drifted into numerous other stores for gift ideas. I enlightened her a bit, showing her that bargains can still be had in the "fancier" stores, rivaling the deals in her "sensible" stores. Her son is into Hollister and Aeropostale so we dragged ourselves in there and discovered a great sale. I found a ridiculous hat Grice had been looking for and grabbed it. For all our hat hunting we'd never bothered going in there because along with Hollister, my older two girls can't stand their logo-emblazoned clothing. The hat was blissfully generic.
The best deal of the day though, was at the restaurant we stopped in for lunch: Free draft beer. As it was close enough to noon and we had already practically put in a full day, we felt we had earned it.
I pulled into the parking lot of Bed, Bath and Beyond and called a friend who had posted on her Facebook page the night before looking for a shopping buddy to see where she was. She was still in bed. But she got right up when I told her where I was and met me very shortly afterward. She is a real shopper, likes to check all over, knows what and when the sales prices should be. I have my trusted favorites: Old Navy, Target, and Macy's (the trip to Bed, Bath and Beyond was a fruitless aberration and I'll never do that again), and go looking for specifics. I feel solidarity with the old men sitting around waiting for their wives outside the dressing rooms. Yesterday she stretched my comfort zone a little, making sure I checked for the twin duvets I wanted at Bells, Sears, and J.C. Penney's before Macy's, and we drifted into numerous other stores for gift ideas. I enlightened her a bit, showing her that bargains can still be had in the "fancier" stores, rivaling the deals in her "sensible" stores. Her son is into Hollister and Aeropostale so we dragged ourselves in there and discovered a great sale. I found a ridiculous hat Grice had been looking for and grabbed it. For all our hat hunting we'd never bothered going in there because along with Hollister, my older two girls can't stand their logo-emblazoned clothing. The hat was blissfully generic.
The best deal of the day though, was at the restaurant we stopped in for lunch: Free draft beer. As it was close enough to noon and we had already practically put in a full day, we felt we had earned it.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Black Friday...
The fact that everybody seems to recognize this "holiday" disgusts me. I'm tired of hearing about it on the news, of people asking each other if they are going out that day, of store clerks asking each other if they have to work that day, retailers and economists discussing the possible outcomes.
Even still, I do have to pick up a few housewares, and, call me crazy, I'm thinking I might find some pretty good sales tomorrow. The thoughts of fighting crowds, though, makes my stomach hurt, and if I have to be trampled to death, I'd rather it be at a Who concert than the early morning opening of Walmart.
Even still, I do have to pick up a few housewares, and, call me crazy, I'm thinking I might find some pretty good sales tomorrow. The thoughts of fighting crowds, though, makes my stomach hurt, and if I have to be trampled to death, I'd rather it be at a Who concert than the early morning opening of Walmart.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tomorrow?
The holiday snuck up on me. Fortunately yesterday, when I drove by a local butcher's and saw the sign advertising "Fresh Amish Turkeys," I remembered that there was more to life than cramming junk in your car and driving across the county multiple times a day. Even more fortunately, when I called the number on the sign, they still had a few left. So a fresh bird it is. An enormous too-big-for-four-people fresh bird.
Today's plan was to strip off all the couch and chair cushions and wash them -- the light in this house seems to emphasize the stains, and more importantly, we can't subject a paying tenant to furniture looking like that -- but I think I'd better first do some grocery shopping beyond what I've scabbed out of the pantry of our old house, otherwise the Thanksgiving Day menu will consist of black bean soup, basmati rice, cans of fire roasted tomatoes, and for dessert everyone can have a sip of the Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee I left in the fridge the other day.
For all the different places we've lived Thanksgiving has been pretty much the same: Watch the parade on TV while cooking (except for that one year we watched it in person), have somebody over to share our meal (except the time we ate out on the island and the years we were in Australia), stuff ourselves, and donate most of the leftovers to a homeless shelter. This year we will only see the Macy's parade if it's broadcast online as I opted to forego the cable television part of the package and just get the internet and phone service. In our house cable television, with all its educational potential, always devolves into a Nickelodeon/Disney/Cartoon Network/MTV fest (though I would never discount the value of MTV's series 16 and Pregnant.) Regular network and PBS will do, except that for now, the digital converter box is out on the island and our TV is still at the other house. We bought a dining room table a few years ago that seats 10, envisioning filling it up on holidays and other special occasions. This year Sarabelle's not here, and my parents (who I like to invite just to see their reactions to my non-traditional, ever-changing menu, "Pommes Anna? Sweet potato fritters? Didn't you make any regular goddam mashed potatoes?! And what the hell are these nuts doing in my green beans...?) have gone up north to visit my brother. Our dear local friends invited us into their homes, but with kids in town for only a few short days, we'd rather let them enjoy their precious family time uninterrupted. What will remain unchanged is that with a turkey Good Housekeeping calculates will provide 22 servings, we will be stuffed and there will be plenty for the less fortunate.
And for that I am thankful.
Today's plan was to strip off all the couch and chair cushions and wash them -- the light in this house seems to emphasize the stains, and more importantly, we can't subject a paying tenant to furniture looking like that -- but I think I'd better first do some grocery shopping beyond what I've scabbed out of the pantry of our old house, otherwise the Thanksgiving Day menu will consist of black bean soup, basmati rice, cans of fire roasted tomatoes, and for dessert everyone can have a sip of the Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee I left in the fridge the other day.
For all the different places we've lived Thanksgiving has been pretty much the same: Watch the parade on TV while cooking (except for that one year we watched it in person), have somebody over to share our meal (except the time we ate out on the island and the years we were in Australia), stuff ourselves, and donate most of the leftovers to a homeless shelter. This year we will only see the Macy's parade if it's broadcast online as I opted to forego the cable television part of the package and just get the internet and phone service. In our house cable television, with all its educational potential, always devolves into a Nickelodeon/Disney/Cartoon Network/MTV fest (though I would never discount the value of MTV's series 16 and Pregnant.) Regular network and PBS will do, except that for now, the digital converter box is out on the island and our TV is still at the other house. We bought a dining room table a few years ago that seats 10, envisioning filling it up on holidays and other special occasions. This year Sarabelle's not here, and my parents (who I like to invite just to see their reactions to my non-traditional, ever-changing menu, "Pommes Anna? Sweet potato fritters? Didn't you make any regular goddam mashed potatoes?! And what the hell are these nuts doing in my green beans...?) have gone up north to visit my brother. Our dear local friends invited us into their homes, but with kids in town for only a few short days, we'd rather let them enjoy their precious family time uninterrupted. What will remain unchanged is that with a turkey Good Housekeeping calculates will provide 22 servings, we will be stuffed and there will be plenty for the less fortunate.
And for that I am thankful.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Back and Forth
The cable guy came today and hooked us up. For the past few days I've been crossing the county hauling boxes and considering if I had the fortitude to post from my iPhone. All that thumbing, forget it.
Meg, if you're still tuning in, I'm thinking the original gray house will be the permanent home, even though I'm very happily and comfortably nestled into the beige house (in spite of it's too cheery interior paint job, ultra-touchy thermostat, uneven cooling, and critters -- I'm going with squirrels again, thinking positive) because 1) It's bigger; and 2) It's the house I fell in love with nearly a year ago when I came across it unexpectedly while checking out another house a few doors down. The historical society was having an open house there and while I was not prepared to join any tours (I had cranky kids and dogs in the car with me), I spotted a tiny "For Sale" sign and stopped to inquire. The women were packing up for the day but suggested I come on in and have a peek gratis. I was charmed, not blinded exactly, I could plainly see its faults, but I could also clearly see its potential.
A dangerous word, that.
In my younger school days, that word was bandied about frequently during parent-teacher meetings, invariably followed by a sigh and an ellipse. But not only do Jorge and I have the ability to see beyond the dreck, we have the ability to actually get it done; push it past "potential" into reality. Sometimes it takes a little longer than originally anticipated. Sometimes it takes moving out and putting it on the market because "Nobody will buy a house in this condition."
As it stands, Sarabelle suggested she move into one of the houses on her own when she gets back, as the beige house lacks a third bedroom and the gray's third bedroom is really more of a porch. A friend suggested her daughter, Sarabelle's best friend, who started college this year, join her and rent a room. An interesting proposition. Otherwise, Maureen, one of them will be a guesthouse, and I fully expect you to come for a visit.
Just to complicate things a little, because, so far things have pretty much fallen into place, the renter/possible purchaser of our previous home, the Green House, resurfaced. We had decided against renting it at this point as the house needs work ("Nobody will buy a house in this condition") and we have plans to travel down to Australia coming up very soon, but our broker is pretty sure this guy could be a serious buyer and it would be worth our while to get him in there. Too bad we already took out much of the furniture because he needs it, so we are now re-moving some of the furnishings out of the new place and back to the old.
Meg, if you're still tuning in, I'm thinking the original gray house will be the permanent home, even though I'm very happily and comfortably nestled into the beige house (in spite of it's too cheery interior paint job, ultra-touchy thermostat, uneven cooling, and critters -- I'm going with squirrels again, thinking positive) because 1) It's bigger; and 2) It's the house I fell in love with nearly a year ago when I came across it unexpectedly while checking out another house a few doors down. The historical society was having an open house there and while I was not prepared to join any tours (I had cranky kids and dogs in the car with me), I spotted a tiny "For Sale" sign and stopped to inquire. The women were packing up for the day but suggested I come on in and have a peek gratis. I was charmed, not blinded exactly, I could plainly see its faults, but I could also clearly see its potential.
A dangerous word, that.
In my younger school days, that word was bandied about frequently during parent-teacher meetings, invariably followed by a sigh and an ellipse. But not only do Jorge and I have the ability to see beyond the dreck, we have the ability to actually get it done; push it past "potential" into reality. Sometimes it takes a little longer than originally anticipated. Sometimes it takes moving out and putting it on the market because "Nobody will buy a house in this condition."
As it stands, Sarabelle suggested she move into one of the houses on her own when she gets back, as the beige house lacks a third bedroom and the gray's third bedroom is really more of a porch. A friend suggested her daughter, Sarabelle's best friend, who started college this year, join her and rent a room. An interesting proposition. Otherwise, Maureen, one of them will be a guesthouse, and I fully expect you to come for a visit.
Just to complicate things a little, because, so far things have pretty much fallen into place, the renter/possible purchaser of our previous home, the Green House, resurfaced. We had decided against renting it at this point as the house needs work ("Nobody will buy a house in this condition") and we have plans to travel down to Australia coming up very soon, but our broker is pretty sure this guy could be a serious buyer and it would be worth our while to get him in there. Too bad we already took out much of the furniture because he needs it, so we are now re-moving some of the furnishings out of the new place and back to the old.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Eh.
I've got a little bit of time left to squeeze in a post before both hands are pointing straight up. I've already missed one day, so the NaNoBloMo thing is officially off.
Today was a lazy, lazy day. I might just be the laziest person you know. I'm pretty close to being the laziest person I know. Some work was accomplished, but only in two short bursts that occurred during the time I picked Grice up from school until I got home just a few minutes ago.
I'll spare you the laundry list.
Suffice to say that if I hadn't wasted the whole morning much more would have been accomplished, and I might even have an interesting story to tell. I might have finished something, instead of leaving some things half done.
I'm tired. I'm going to bed.
I'll give it another go tomorrow.
Today was a lazy, lazy day. I might just be the laziest person you know. I'm pretty close to being the laziest person I know. Some work was accomplished, but only in two short bursts that occurred during the time I picked Grice up from school until I got home just a few minutes ago.
I'll spare you the laundry list.
Suffice to say that if I hadn't wasted the whole morning much more would have been accomplished, and I might even have an interesting story to tell. I might have finished something, instead of leaving some things half done.
I'm tired. I'm going to bed.
I'll give it another go tomorrow.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Double Trouble
Here's the "twin" house...
...more of a fraternal than identical. It too was built by the railroad company in the late 20s or early 30s. The layout is similar in the main rooms though it lacks the rear addition of the other house and the details are a bit different (like the arched window over the front door and the landscaping, for starters.)
The interior of the porch is being painted the lighter color you see below and should be done by Saturday. The interior windows into the house have been removed and replaced with operational, louvered shutters making the porch part of the air-conditioned living space. The exterior window bottoms of this house have a little higher elevation and make it a bit more private.
The interior ceilings are not original, but are high enough and in good shape. This house also has a fireplace, on which the painter, in addition to putting a fresh coat of hideous minty green on the walls, decided to pick out the "I" shaped recess in the brick in dark blue. But I can worry about correcting that later. Much later.
No bookshelves, but another window seat (these windows are not original, but later awning-style replacements) in the dining room and another curious pass-through...
...into the kitchen. The kitchen is small, divided into separate cooking and eat-in areas, but has all new appliances, cabinets, and counter-tops. Plus an eye-popping palette.
Outside off the kitchen is a nice covered area with a grill, firepit, birdbath, another patio area in brick, decent landscaping, and a shed. I'll bet if I look in the shed it's probably full of tools, and if I'm lucky, a weedeater for that little bit of lawn that'll need trimming.
In the last photo can you see the ivy creeping over the brick patio? And the strangler vine climbing the palm? I have been hacking this stuff out of the other yard for days. It's horribly invasive.
It's neat and clean (except for the odd junk belonging to the painter) and ready for immediate occupancy. We should be in by Sunday.
...more of a fraternal than identical. It too was built by the railroad company in the late 20s or early 30s. The layout is similar in the main rooms though it lacks the rear addition of the other house and the details are a bit different (like the arched window over the front door and the landscaping, for starters.)
The interior of the porch is being painted the lighter color you see below and should be done by Saturday. The interior windows into the house have been removed and replaced with operational, louvered shutters making the porch part of the air-conditioned living space. The exterior window bottoms of this house have a little higher elevation and make it a bit more private.
The interior ceilings are not original, but are high enough and in good shape. This house also has a fireplace, on which the painter, in addition to putting a fresh coat of hideous minty green on the walls, decided to pick out the "I" shaped recess in the brick in dark blue. But I can worry about correcting that later. Much later.
No bookshelves, but another window seat (these windows are not original, but later awning-style replacements) in the dining room and another curious pass-through...
...into the kitchen. The kitchen is small, divided into separate cooking and eat-in areas, but has all new appliances, cabinets, and counter-tops. Plus an eye-popping palette.
Outside off the kitchen is a nice covered area with a grill, firepit, birdbath, another patio area in brick, decent landscaping, and a shed. I'll bet if I look in the shed it's probably full of tools, and if I'm lucky, a weedeater for that little bit of lawn that'll need trimming.
In the last photo can you see the ivy creeping over the brick patio? And the strangler vine climbing the palm? I have been hacking this stuff out of the other yard for days. It's horribly invasive.
It's neat and clean (except for the odd junk belonging to the painter) and ready for immediate occupancy. We should be in by Sunday.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Last Minute
It's not so hard to get back on the blogging wagon. Posting everyday is fairly easy provided you do not have children bickering over who gets to do what, when, and for how long.
Tonight, as I am running out of time after the kids spent all evening finishing their work, I will take the simple way out and post some more renovation pictures:
Here is the master bedroom. The wood floor under the carpet was a nice surprise; it's in good shape and the smelly carpet is gone. Jorge decided to rip out this newer drywall ceiling even though it appeared to be in good shape and we really didn't gain much additional height. After seeing the other "improvements" made to the house around this same time, he did not trust any of the work that was done. Sure enough, you can see the last of the 2x4 joists in the ceiling, all were incorrectly installed.
There was no happy surprise under the carpet in the front bedroom. This was where the painters sprayed the louvered doors for the closets. Yup, right on the bare floor. Fortunately the floor has a good coat of varnish on it and the white flat latex paint that now covers it should come up pretty easily. Good thing we decided to take out the dropped ceiling in this room: covered up underneath the panels were old light fixtures and bulbs, still connected to the switches and still operational.
So what do you do when you need to get out of your old house quickly (because you may have a renter who could become a buyer) but your new house is nowhere near ready? Did I hear someone say, "Buy the house next door"? No? Because that would be insane, right? But that's exactly what we plan to do. The seller, the same one we are dealing with on the current project house, wanted to make us a deal on the way toward eliminating their Florida properties. I didn't seriously think it would work out, but they are making it easy. And that one is ready for immediate occupancy. Since the potential renter/possible buyer of our Green House would want the place furnished, I only have to pack up our personal effects. We will be back to living like we did in Australia, camping out on swags with bare bones housewares.
In the midst of all that chaos, here is my one quiet corner. That's all I really need.
Tonight, as I am running out of time after the kids spent all evening finishing their work, I will take the simple way out and post some more renovation pictures:
Here is the master bedroom. The wood floor under the carpet was a nice surprise; it's in good shape and the smelly carpet is gone. Jorge decided to rip out this newer drywall ceiling even though it appeared to be in good shape and we really didn't gain much additional height. After seeing the other "improvements" made to the house around this same time, he did not trust any of the work that was done. Sure enough, you can see the last of the 2x4 joists in the ceiling, all were incorrectly installed.
There was no happy surprise under the carpet in the front bedroom. This was where the painters sprayed the louvered doors for the closets. Yup, right on the bare floor. Fortunately the floor has a good coat of varnish on it and the white flat latex paint that now covers it should come up pretty easily. Good thing we decided to take out the dropped ceiling in this room: covered up underneath the panels were old light fixtures and bulbs, still connected to the switches and still operational.
So what do you do when you need to get out of your old house quickly (because you may have a renter who could become a buyer) but your new house is nowhere near ready? Did I hear someone say, "Buy the house next door"? No? Because that would be insane, right? But that's exactly what we plan to do. The seller, the same one we are dealing with on the current project house, wanted to make us a deal on the way toward eliminating their Florida properties. I didn't seriously think it would work out, but they are making it easy. And that one is ready for immediate occupancy. Since the potential renter/possible buyer of our Green House would want the place furnished, I only have to pack up our personal effects. We will be back to living like we did in Australia, camping out on swags with bare bones housewares.
In the midst of all that chaos, here is my one quiet corner. That's all I really need.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Humbug
Anyone else annoyed by school reports due in Power Point format instead of say, writing? Just because we have the technology must we use it? Is this education or job training? Isn't this just another example of dumbing down?
Maybe I'm just tired of being forced to share my laptop.
Maybe I'm just tired of being forced to share my laptop.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Progress?
Today seemed like a rather useless day. We got off to a late start. I was distracted by a discarded chair. Kids needed to be fed. And right when I finally got into hacking the heck out of the hedges, the sun started to set and Elle had to be picked up from her friend's. I only ended up getting in about one solid hour of work.
But I also looked at several hundred paint chips, checked IKEA online for kitchen cabinets, bundled a small mountain of yard waste for the garbagemen, removed and relocated a small oak tree, and had a nice visit with friends. That's my kind of productivity!
Imagine how much I will get done tomorrow with an early start, Grice at school, Elle at the circus with friends, and Jorge over on the other coast...
But I also looked at several hundred paint chips, checked IKEA online for kitchen cabinets, bundled a small mountain of yard waste for the garbagemen, removed and relocated a small oak tree, and had a nice visit with friends. That's my kind of productivity!
Imagine how much I will get done tomorrow with an early start, Grice at school, Elle at the circus with friends, and Jorge over on the other coast...
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Post Veterans' Day Post
The Moving Wall, a half-sized traveling replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. is in town through the weekend, so Elle, Grice and I stopped by to see it after Grice got out of school yesterday. I regret that we didn't have time on our trip through D.C. last time to visit the permanent memorial, and after being present in 1985 for the very moving parade and dedication of the Florida memorial in Tallahassee, I wanted the girls to feel some small part of the experience.
My parents may have made a concerted effort to keep the TV turned off during that time or they may simply have preferred the newspaper to the evening news broadcast. I was in fifth grade in 1975 and never knew anything about Vietnam until high school.
At Jorge's house they sat glued to the screen, watching the draft numbers being called, hoping his older brothers' and cousin's numbers didn't come up. His brothers were lucky. Tommy wasn't. At his funeral ten years or so ago, the officiant reminded us of the two Bronze Stars he had earned and said that Vietnam had killed Tommy, it just took him longer to die.
"In memory of the men and women who served in the Vietnam War and later died as a result of their service. We honor and remember their sacrifice."
A collector presented a fascinating display of items including vehicles, weapons, uniforms, photos, and various memorabilia from our soldiers and the Viet Cong.
We saw men crying, people still reviling Jane Fonda, and so many names.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Great Beyond
Enjoying some beautiful, Florida winter weather yesterday led to a deep gratitude and wonder about the ridiculously amazing fact I am here at all, and then, naturally, to thoughts of impermanence.
I'm impermanent. I'm okay with that. I feel very fortunate to have had a turn on this planet in spite of the enormous odds against it ever happening and am enjoying the ride as much as possible during this blink-of-an-eye existence.
But who will take care of my kids when I'm gone?
Jorge and I have discussed it in the past: The older of my two brothers has been at the top of our list for years, but now, after remarrying, he and his wife have five daughters between them. Three more would be tough, though they all get along famously. We used to think Jorge's brother would be a solid choice, able to keep them in familiar surroundings, financially secure and able to wisely manage any possible assets on behalf of the girls, but he and his wife are several years older and busy with grandchildren now. My cousin, who is a lot like me with a sicker sense of humor, and her husband, Nature Boy, would be great influences. Adding three more occupants to their home would be challenging, but the possibility of finally having a house in Florida might persuade them.*
Physically, any of the above choices would suffice, but what about spiritually? Who would model morality without religion, without a god? Who would encourage them to challenge authority and blind faith, to be free and critical thinkers? Who would promote the ideas and practices of the four noble truths?
Have you dealt with this? Does it matter?
*We've never actually gotten around to asking any of them, so this may be the first they're hearing of it. Surprise!
I'm impermanent. I'm okay with that. I feel very fortunate to have had a turn on this planet in spite of the enormous odds against it ever happening and am enjoying the ride as much as possible during this blink-of-an-eye existence.
But who will take care of my kids when I'm gone?
Jorge and I have discussed it in the past: The older of my two brothers has been at the top of our list for years, but now, after remarrying, he and his wife have five daughters between them. Three more would be tough, though they all get along famously. We used to think Jorge's brother would be a solid choice, able to keep them in familiar surroundings, financially secure and able to wisely manage any possible assets on behalf of the girls, but he and his wife are several years older and busy with grandchildren now. My cousin, who is a lot like me with a sicker sense of humor, and her husband, Nature Boy, would be great influences. Adding three more occupants to their home would be challenging, but the possibility of finally having a house in Florida might persuade them.*
Physically, any of the above choices would suffice, but what about spiritually? Who would model morality without religion, without a god? Who would encourage them to challenge authority and blind faith, to be free and critical thinkers? Who would promote the ideas and practices of the four noble truths?
Have you dealt with this? Does it matter?
*We've never actually gotten around to asking any of them, so this may be the first they're hearing of it. Surprise!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Health Care
It's been dead silent for several days on a certain Yahoo group since my last few remarks. In my typical passive-aggressive way I replied to a message, one of the increasingly irritating partisan posts, one marked "I don't usually foward to my entire mailbox but this is to [sic] important". I knew the original comment was off-topic and out-dated, being a link to a YouTube video that has made the rounds for some time already, but I channeled a little Howard Beale, stuck my neck out, and let them know, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!"
In a nice way, of course.
Mr. Rogers's remarks are full of exaggeration, and rather than pick apart his every fabrication, acknowledging the original bill has undergone revision, I tried to make a few simple points:
The 15% of uninsured Rogers refers to includes the hardworking self-employed, not only the welfare "weak" (who, incidentally, already receive health care through Medicare and Medicaid.)
Against the idea of government subsidized health care? What about veterans, civil service employees, and anyone receiving Social Security disability payments who already benefit from various plans?
The insurance companies obviously don't want to forfeit any profits and are lobbying hard to kill any public program. Why support their greed?
Got yourself a nice 9-5 with adequate health insurance? Good for you. Why not make an affordable government public OPTION available to the remaining uninsured? Why punish the rest of us?
Maybe they're thinking about it...
In a nice way, of course.
Mr. Rogers's remarks are full of exaggeration, and rather than pick apart his every fabrication, acknowledging the original bill has undergone revision, I tried to make a few simple points:
The 15% of uninsured Rogers refers to includes the hardworking self-employed, not only the welfare "weak" (who, incidentally, already receive health care through Medicare and Medicaid.)
Against the idea of government subsidized health care? What about veterans, civil service employees, and anyone receiving Social Security disability payments who already benefit from various plans?
The insurance companies obviously don't want to forfeit any profits and are lobbying hard to kill any public program. Why support their greed?
Got yourself a nice 9-5 with adequate health insurance? Good for you. Why not make an affordable government public OPTION available to the remaining uninsured? Why punish the rest of us?
Maybe they're thinking about it...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Veterans' Day
Found out just a little too late (like an hour ago when a friend posted pictures on her Facebook page) that there was a big opening ceremony today downtown at the harborside park for the traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall. There was a parade this past Saturday and I figured that was all the commemorating the city had planned. We were working on the house today, of course, (and that "we" is not the I-showed-Jorge-pictures-and-read-a-book-on-the-porch-while-he-slaved "we," I got filthy helping remove ceiling grids and hauling debris out, 1,000 lbs. according to the dump scale) and were treated to fly-bys from several WWII aircraft in conjunction with the Wall ceremony. You know what Larie and I will be doing tomorrow...
After visiting the display, I'm going back to work, attacking the landscaping with a machete and loppers. The stranglers and other vines are out of control and there are a couple long-neglected mango and citrus trees that need my attention. Then we'll pick Grice up from school and run up to Tampa for her follow-up appointment at Shriners'. It's going to be a long day.
After visiting the display, I'm going back to work, attacking the landscaping with a machete and loppers. The stranglers and other vines are out of control and there are a couple long-neglected mango and citrus trees that need my attention. Then we'll pick Grice up from school and run up to Tampa for her follow-up appointment at Shriners'. It's going to be a long day.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Teamwork
Tomorrow we go back over to the house to try and figure out what to do with the dining room/kitchen opening. Right. Exciting. I have been poring over home design magazines and have a good idea how I'd like the kitchen to turn out, but first I must speak to my contractor, who will no doubt give me his standard answer, "Sure, we can do anything you want, the money's the issue." I will then scale my idea back and come up with some equally outlandish alternative and the whole cycle repeats. Other than that, we work pretty well as a team: I am the idea man and he is the workman; the theoretical to his practical; the dreamer to his doer.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Craptacular!
If you thought this was a perfectly fine bathroom...
...clean, neat, with its relatively new fixtures and recent paint job...
...then you don't know old houses.
The presence of a fresh coat of latex and a newer cheapo vanity were tip-offs that someone was trying to hide something. Stained ceiling tiles betrayed an old roof leak and removal of the panels revealed decades-old rotten wood and some pretty ridiculous attempts at patches. Before the roof was properly replaced after Hurricane Charley there had been water sitting up there for a very long time. Welcome to the home of The Black Mold.
As it was, there was only one teeny spot of mold, nothing a good blast of Clorox Clean-Up couldn't handle. You can see the new roof decking over Jorge's head. He got up there and had a good look at the rest of the roof's underside and what he saw made him very happy. The railroad company built this place right. It was the later occupants who boogered it up and left behind this mess that had to go...
Onto the living room! Ye olde mantlepiece and the dark shutters are scrapped.
And the mock heavy timbers between the dining room and kitchen...
...are stripped off. If we're lucky, there may still be a boxed-in arch underneath there, matching the arch between the living and dining room (visible in the background.)
Here's a view of the additional two ceilings hidden underneath the dropped ceiling. See the two layers of stuck-on accoustical junk?
As you can see by the following kitchen photo, the next priority is getting our electrician over here. Pronto.
Pretty amazing that all this work was completed between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon singlehandedly by my husband. It might be a few more days before he has another burst like that though.
...clean, neat, with its relatively new fixtures and recent paint job...
...then you don't know old houses.
The presence of a fresh coat of latex and a newer cheapo vanity were tip-offs that someone was trying to hide something. Stained ceiling tiles betrayed an old roof leak and removal of the panels revealed decades-old rotten wood and some pretty ridiculous attempts at patches. Before the roof was properly replaced after Hurricane Charley there had been water sitting up there for a very long time. Welcome to the home of The Black Mold.
As it was, there was only one teeny spot of mold, nothing a good blast of Clorox Clean-Up couldn't handle. You can see the new roof decking over Jorge's head. He got up there and had a good look at the rest of the roof's underside and what he saw made him very happy. The railroad company built this place right. It was the later occupants who boogered it up and left behind this mess that had to go...
Onto the living room! Ye olde mantlepiece and the dark shutters are scrapped.
And the mock heavy timbers between the dining room and kitchen...
...are stripped off. If we're lucky, there may still be a boxed-in arch underneath there, matching the arch between the living and dining room (visible in the background.)
Here's a view of the additional two ceilings hidden underneath the dropped ceiling. See the two layers of stuck-on accoustical junk?
As you can see by the following kitchen photo, the next priority is getting our electrician over here. Pronto.
Pretty amazing that all this work was completed between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon singlehandedly by my husband. It might be a few more days before he has another burst like that though.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Forever House?
I finally got a phone that takes decent pictures (and video) but do you think I have the presence of mind to actually whip it out if something noteworthy occurs? And when I eventually remember I have it, I'm always worried somebody is going to mentally or verbally accuse me of being some kind of stalker, thus no photos yesterday of Asha and Lulu frolicking with Oliver, Finn, and Marley.
Since I started this blog, we've lived in the following places:
Stirling Road House (Florida)
The Island (Florida)
The Stilt House (Florida)
The Green House (Florida)
Port Douglas (Australia)
Carr Road (Australia)
Mt. Perseverance (Australia)
Yalkula Station (Australia)
Mt. Perseverance - again
The Green House - again
There were even several other properties we got involved in as we searched for what Dy calls her Forever Home, but this time we might actually have found ours...
It's not really big enough, but who needs all that stuff anyway? And it's old and needs work, but it's got a little history and character and we're contractors. Best of all, it's one-story so I will still be able to shuffle around when I'm old and feeble, because after this I am NOT MOVING AGAIN.
The deal came together pretty easily with some creative financing from the owner. We were able to additionally secure the vacant double lot behind the house, with owner financing from a separate seller, which was the key to the deal since the house sits on a tiny lot. The house's seller also owns the twin house next door and is eager to make a deal with us on that one. It's a huge stretch, but maybe we'll end up with the nice little family compound I'd always hoped to have...
I did remember to take some pictures of the property and plan to document the renovation as it goes. For starters, here are some views of the exterior and the "Before" pictures of the main interior rooms:
The house was built by the railroad company for employees; the historical society says prior to 1910, but the style is more 30s Florida Mediterranean. The courthouse burned down in 1910 and most property records were destroyed so no one knows for sure. Many streets in the historic district are still the original brick...
The double rear lot. There used to be a house here but it was destroyed in Hurricane Charley. You can barely make out the house behind Jorge's truck. The red fence and house you can easily see on the right is the rear of the "twin" house...
West half of the front porch (11' ceilings and great light)...
Living room fireplace and bookshelves. Wood floor is in great shape and recently refinished The first big project is to remove the hideous dropped ceiling. The owner prior to our sellers also owned the local Irish pub. He apparently tried to give the house a little of that flavor when he added all the dark wood trim. This mantlepiece must go along with the trim around the doorway into the kitchen...
Window seat in the dining room...
The eat-in kitchen (which we won't be eating in -- we use our dining room table -- but will probably be adding an island of some sort.) The cabinets on the right side (in the second photo) continue up past the dropped ceiling and two other older and crummier ceilings all the way to the original plaster ceiling (another 2' or so)...
View of ye olde pub decor looking from the kitchen back toward the dining and living rooms. The vinyl floor has also got to go.
Now the fun begins. All door hardware has been changed out from super shiny fake brass to a more subdued satin nickel finish and last night Jorge began ripping out the ceilings :
First the living room...
...and then the dining room...
Stay tuned.
Since I started this blog, we've lived in the following places:
Stirling Road House (Florida)
The Island (Florida)
The Stilt House (Florida)
The Green House (Florida)
Port Douglas (Australia)
Carr Road (Australia)
Mt. Perseverance (Australia)
Yalkula Station (Australia)
Mt. Perseverance - again
The Green House - again
There were even several other properties we got involved in as we searched for what Dy calls her Forever Home, but this time we might actually have found ours...
It's not really big enough, but who needs all that stuff anyway? And it's old and needs work, but it's got a little history and character and we're contractors. Best of all, it's one-story so I will still be able to shuffle around when I'm old and feeble, because after this I am NOT MOVING AGAIN.
The deal came together pretty easily with some creative financing from the owner. We were able to additionally secure the vacant double lot behind the house, with owner financing from a separate seller, which was the key to the deal since the house sits on a tiny lot. The house's seller also owns the twin house next door and is eager to make a deal with us on that one. It's a huge stretch, but maybe we'll end up with the nice little family compound I'd always hoped to have...
I did remember to take some pictures of the property and plan to document the renovation as it goes. For starters, here are some views of the exterior and the "Before" pictures of the main interior rooms:
The house was built by the railroad company for employees; the historical society says prior to 1910, but the style is more 30s Florida Mediterranean. The courthouse burned down in 1910 and most property records were destroyed so no one knows for sure. Many streets in the historic district are still the original brick...
The double rear lot. There used to be a house here but it was destroyed in Hurricane Charley. You can barely make out the house behind Jorge's truck. The red fence and house you can easily see on the right is the rear of the "twin" house...
West half of the front porch (11' ceilings and great light)...
Living room fireplace and bookshelves. Wood floor is in great shape and recently refinished The first big project is to remove the hideous dropped ceiling. The owner prior to our sellers also owned the local Irish pub. He apparently tried to give the house a little of that flavor when he added all the dark wood trim. This mantlepiece must go along with the trim around the doorway into the kitchen...
Window seat in the dining room...
The eat-in kitchen (which we won't be eating in -- we use our dining room table -- but will probably be adding an island of some sort.) The cabinets on the right side (in the second photo) continue up past the dropped ceiling and two other older and crummier ceilings all the way to the original plaster ceiling (another 2' or so)...
View of ye olde pub decor looking from the kitchen back toward the dining and living rooms. The vinyl floor has also got to go.
Now the fun begins. All door hardware has been changed out from super shiny fake brass to a more subdued satin nickel finish and last night Jorge began ripping out the ceilings :
First the living room...
...and then the dining room...
Stay tuned.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Park Day
Our homeschool park day was rescheduled from yesterday to today, Saturday, and though we were in town and working at the new house only two or three blocks away, we decided to pass. Part of it, well, probably most of it, was me being stubborn. The new leader couldn't make it, had to work, and rather than just let someone else, or no one else be in charge as we have done for the past, oh, seven years or so -- the First Friday meeting being sacrosanct -- she took it upon herself as Grand Poobah to change the date.
Elle and I took Lulu and Asha and went to the dog park instead.
And what fun we had! We met Oliver the Newfoundland, Finn the Irish Wolfhound, Marley the one-eyed Pomeranian, the lady I'd met the night before at the bookstore with her service dog, and so many more. It was a great place to get to know the neighbors, both two- and four-legged. Only three blocks from the house, it's the best park of its kind I've been to yet: separate yards for big and small dogs, plenty of trees, pavilions, clean-up stations, water fountains, tennis balls, even a pool. Lulu and Asha were a little overwhelmed and cautious (they switched off, one staying nearby me at all times to 'protect' me from all the other canines), though I'm sure they'll be plenty excited when we go next time.
Elle and I took Lulu and Asha and went to the dog park instead.
And what fun we had! We met Oliver the Newfoundland, Finn the Irish Wolfhound, Marley the one-eyed Pomeranian, the lady I'd met the night before at the bookstore with her service dog, and so many more. It was a great place to get to know the neighbors, both two- and four-legged. Only three blocks from the house, it's the best park of its kind I've been to yet: separate yards for big and small dogs, plenty of trees, pavilions, clean-up stations, water fountains, tennis balls, even a pool. Lulu and Asha were a little overwhelmed and cautious (they switched off, one staying nearby me at all times to 'protect' me from all the other canines), though I'm sure they'll be plenty excited when we go next time.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Who You Gonna Call?
I ambushed the crazy ex-tenant today. I lay in wait on the front porch knowing sooner or later she would come for the bait, her mail. I sprang to the curb when she pulled up and told her I realized from yesterday's conversation that she was afraid to tell me the reasons for her hasty departure for fear of a lawsuit, but I had three kids to worry about and all kinds of bizarre thoughts about what we'd find out soon enough had been running through my mind. I may have mentioned dangerous electrical work and sexual predators. I did not mention the G word.
She apologized and admitted that after she'd driven off she should have further explained the situation, though the circumstances of her vacancy had left her very angry at her landlords, because yes, my family was in danger.
I froze.
"There is something in the house," she told me. Feigning innocence I egged her on saying I'd heard something skittering around above the ceiling and figured it was at best a squirrel, or at worst a rat. "No," she replied, "it's not that..." She hesitated, "It's worse..."
Oh, holy shit, remember to breathe, send Elle up on the porch so she doesn't hear the gory details...
"It's some kind of creature, it walks around the house at night. It came in my bedroom!
Further description confirmed it was a wayward 'possum. Phew! No problem! We have dogs, they'll chase it off (though the kids would have loved to have seen the little critter waddle around one night.) The weight had lifted off my chest and she went on to detail the nastiness with the landlord's wife and the apparent plague of palmetto bugs and lizards around the house.
And just when I thought we would wrap up the conversation on a light note, her voice dropped to a whisper, "There is something else in the house..." She gave me a look, eyebrows raised, slowly nodding her head as if to say, yes, you know what I'm talking about, what I'm about to say, you've already noticed it, I'm sure.
Okay, HERE it comes, I thought, dark shapes by the bedside, doors and windows opening and closing by themselves, lights turning on and off, whispers...
"Black Mold."
My relief was so explosive I laughed in her face and suddenly heard Ray Parker Jr. singing "Moldbusters" in my head.
I ain't 'fraid of no mold!
She apologized and admitted that after she'd driven off she should have further explained the situation, though the circumstances of her vacancy had left her very angry at her landlords, because yes, my family was in danger.
I froze.
"There is something in the house," she told me. Feigning innocence I egged her on saying I'd heard something skittering around above the ceiling and figured it was at best a squirrel, or at worst a rat. "No," she replied, "it's not that..." She hesitated, "It's worse..."
Oh, holy shit, remember to breathe, send Elle up on the porch so she doesn't hear the gory details...
"It's some kind of creature, it walks around the house at night. It came in my bedroom!
Further description confirmed it was a wayward 'possum. Phew! No problem! We have dogs, they'll chase it off (though the kids would have loved to have seen the little critter waddle around one night.) The weight had lifted off my chest and she went on to detail the nastiness with the landlord's wife and the apparent plague of palmetto bugs and lizards around the house.
And just when I thought we would wrap up the conversation on a light note, her voice dropped to a whisper, "There is something else in the house..." She gave me a look, eyebrows raised, slowly nodding her head as if to say, yes, you know what I'm talking about, what I'm about to say, you've already noticed it, I'm sure.
Okay, HERE it comes, I thought, dark shapes by the bedside, doors and windows opening and closing by themselves, lights turning on and off, whispers...
"Black Mold."
My relief was so explosive I laughed in her face and suddenly heard Ray Parker Jr. singing "Moldbusters" in my head.
I ain't 'fraid of no mold!
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Scooby Doo, Where Are You?
I was back at the new house today ripping more vines off the landscaping (with gloves on this time) when a woman in a car pulled up. She asked if we're living here or just cleaning it up. She asked if we were renting or we bought it. She told me she was a former tenant and just had her mail delivery changed but that it might take a few days before it's completely redirected. Sure enough there were a few pieces that had come earlier that day and I went in to get them for her.
She went on to tell me she had moved down from North Carolina only four months earlier and her newest address is the third place she's been in. Said she was only in our house three days before she left.
"Why?" I asked.
"Um, I can't say, I don't want to make any trouble... Didn't [our landlord's wife] tell you that I might have to check the mailbox for a few days? She didn't mention anything...?"
"Oh, did you have a problem with [our landlord's wife]?" (Thinking her no-nonsense personality may have somehow ruffled the former renter's feathers.)
"I'm not going to talk about it, I might end up in a lawsuit. All I can say is, you'll find out soon enough..."
And with that she sped away.
A few minutes later my friend Val arrived up to check out our new place and I told her what she had just missed. We theorized about what could be wrong with the house. Squirrels in the attic? Typical old house nuisances like the old plumbing and dead electrical socket in the laundry? It couldn't be the neighbors, several are friends of friends and they speak highly of everyone else on the street. A grisly murder? Ghosts...?
We settled in and were enjoying a couple cold ones on the porch catching up. Her son just made his Confirmation and she'd had a slew of relatives in town visiting for the event. She said her son was really getting into the religion thing and I offered to give her the crucifix I'd received for my First Holy Communion and two bottles of magic juju holy water from my aunt's healer-priest friend that I'd found cleaning out my closet, figuring he might appreciate it.
Without warning, the upper sash of the double hung window I was sitting in front of came crashing down about two inches behind my head.
Val thinks I might want to reconsider my offer.
She went on to tell me she had moved down from North Carolina only four months earlier and her newest address is the third place she's been in. Said she was only in our house three days before she left.
"Why?" I asked.
"Um, I can't say, I don't want to make any trouble... Didn't [our landlord's wife] tell you that I might have to check the mailbox for a few days? She didn't mention anything...?"
"Oh, did you have a problem with [our landlord's wife]?" (Thinking her no-nonsense personality may have somehow ruffled the former renter's feathers.)
"I'm not going to talk about it, I might end up in a lawsuit. All I can say is, you'll find out soon enough..."
And with that she sped away.
A few minutes later my friend Val arrived up to check out our new place and I told her what she had just missed. We theorized about what could be wrong with the house. Squirrels in the attic? Typical old house nuisances like the old plumbing and dead electrical socket in the laundry? It couldn't be the neighbors, several are friends of friends and they speak highly of everyone else on the street. A grisly murder? Ghosts...?
We settled in and were enjoying a couple cold ones on the porch catching up. Her son just made his Confirmation and she'd had a slew of relatives in town visiting for the event. She said her son was really getting into the religion thing and I offered to give her the crucifix I'd received for my First Holy Communion and two bottles of magic juju holy water from my aunt's healer-priest friend that I'd found cleaning out my closet, figuring he might appreciate it.
Without warning, the upper sash of the double hung window I was sitting in front of came crashing down about two inches behind my head.
Val thinks I might want to reconsider my offer.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
School?
One of today's lessons involved measuring volume, like, How many boxes can fit on the back seat of Mom's Excursion? The answer: Not Very Many. Note I did not say in the back of Mom's vehicle, the addition of which would have made the answer: Almost Enough to be Worthy of the Drive, because the Way Back is already packed to the roof with non-household-relocating items. We schlepped a few measly cartons down to the new house, boxes that have been packed and have not seen the light of day since we planned to leave for Australia the first time, about eight years ago. Until we remove and replace the ancient, asbestosis-inducing, dropped ceiling panels, we can't really move much more in, though I plan to bring our swags and a couple towels over and camp out if Jorge drags his feet. Add a coffee maker and we're all set.
Another lesson covered identifying artists by their painting techniques, as in, Who in the world would paint double-hung windows closed rendering them inoperative and unable to capture the harbor breeze?
We broke up the schoolwork with a little fun, an olfactory treasure hunt, as we sought out the numerous chemical air-fresheners hidden throughout the house. And then we worked on a word problem: If Mom drives 45 mph for 10 miles and 55 mph for the remaining 17 miles and makes every green light, will she reach the other side of town in 45 minutes to get her daughter to her dance class on time? The answer: No, especially when she forgets class starts at 4:00, not 4:30 PM.
Another lesson covered identifying artists by their painting techniques, as in, Who in the world would paint double-hung windows closed rendering them inoperative and unable to capture the harbor breeze?
We broke up the schoolwork with a little fun, an olfactory treasure hunt, as we sought out the numerous chemical air-fresheners hidden throughout the house. And then we worked on a word problem: If Mom drives 45 mph for 10 miles and 55 mph for the remaining 17 miles and makes every green light, will she reach the other side of town in 45 minutes to get her daughter to her dance class on time? The answer: No, especially when she forgets class starts at 4:00, not 4:30 PM.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Another Day, Another...whatever...
Elle did an internship with her father today -- that's what I'm calling it -- so I had nearly the entire day to sit at the computer and try to puzzle out the typographic problems I'm fighting on my private school website. Mostly it comes down to I am an HTML retard, and before you go getting your politically correct self in a dither, I mean that in the most tardo, tardere kind of way. Thanks, for the suggestions, Becky! My eyes are tired and I'm still only able to poke at the keyboard with four-fifths of my digits (not only are the open wounds still sore, I nearly severed a finger cutting right across the top of one of the former blisters yesterday while making dinner.) Coincidentally, four-fifths of our family will be eating left-overs tonight.
Monday, November 02, 2009
No Diving
I'm ashamed to admit that I've considered letting my membership in a particular organization lapse, not just because the purportedly inclusive group has taken a particularly right-wing fundie turn, or that members repeat inane rumors without exercising the tiniest shred of critical thinking or skepticism, or that they send intolerant inflammatory emails to me, though those are certainly huge and valid reasons, but also, and mostly, because of the group members' aesthetics -- specifically, the lack thereof.
Yes. I am shallow.
And I'm no genius or such a looker myself, but at least I have a basic knowledge of grammar and all my teeth. I visibly cringed at our last meeting, held in a public place, when a member spoke before the group stating their dislike for some perceived liberal secret agenda ("We ain't supporting nuthin' like that!) I wanted desperately to explain to the two young moms sitting at the next picnic table with raised eyebrows that not all homeschoolers are wacko religious hillbillies, or at least let them know I'm not, but there was no polite way to distance myself from the ugly ignorance other than hoping they caught my extreme eye-rolling.
I thought I would stay on to help any new families negotiate the legalities and challenges of homeschooling -- I certainly don't have much to offer the current bunch -- but any potential members may attend one meeting and run screaming in the opposite direction.
Yes. I am shallow.
And I'm no genius or such a looker myself, but at least I have a basic knowledge of grammar and all my teeth. I visibly cringed at our last meeting, held in a public place, when a member spoke before the group stating their dislike for some perceived liberal secret agenda ("We ain't supporting nuthin' like that!) I wanted desperately to explain to the two young moms sitting at the next picnic table with raised eyebrows that not all homeschoolers are wacko religious hillbillies, or at least let them know I'm not, but there was no polite way to distance myself from the ugly ignorance other than hoping they caught my extreme eye-rolling.
I thought I would stay on to help any new families negotiate the legalities and challenges of homeschooling -- I certainly don't have much to offer the current bunch -- but any potential members may attend one meeting and run screaming in the opposite direction.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
NaBloWriMo
A post a day, eh? Anything to kick my lazy self in gear, I suppose.
We took occupancy of our new(est) house today, though there are a few projects to accomplish before we can move in. About two weeks worth to be exact. Today in a fit of, oh, impatience maybe, I determined to pull off the vines choking the zamia and frangipani in the front yard. Without gloves. Won't ever do that again as I now have no skin on the soft, tender undersides of my index fingers. But I can still type and click.
Coming down off my chocolate buzz today, I got a heap of filing done and also took another look at my attendance records and recalculated back to the first "official" day my private school started. Elle has actually got 98 days completed so we are well on our way to fulfilling those pesky Florida statutes. I've worked out a transcript for Sarabelle so that when she returns after the Christmas break she will be on track to graduate in the spring, work on her portfolio, and apply to her school of choice for the fall term.
I'm looking forward to reading a book Chris O'Donnell recommended, College Without High School: A Teenager's Guide to Skipping High School and Going to College
. With two jumping through the high school hoops, maybe the third time will be the charm...
We took occupancy of our new(est) house today, though there are a few projects to accomplish before we can move in. About two weeks worth to be exact. Today in a fit of, oh, impatience maybe, I determined to pull off the vines choking the zamia and frangipani in the front yard. Without gloves. Won't ever do that again as I now have no skin on the soft, tender undersides of my index fingers. But I can still type and click.
Coming down off my chocolate buzz today, I got a heap of filing done and also took another look at my attendance records and recalculated back to the first "official" day my private school started. Elle has actually got 98 days completed so we are well on our way to fulfilling those pesky Florida statutes. I've worked out a transcript for Sarabelle so that when she returns after the Christmas break she will be on track to graduate in the spring, work on her portfolio, and apply to her school of choice for the fall term.
I'm looking forward to reading a book Chris O'Donnell recommended, College Without High School: A Teenager's Guide to Skipping High School and Going to College
. With two jumping through the high school hoops, maybe the third time will be the charm...
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Diversions
Letters of Note: Correspondence Deserving of a Wider Audience is just fascinating and one more reason to keep me online way past the hour decent people should be in bed. For starters:
Al Franken zoos on John Ashcroft
Einstein on religion
Bobby Kennedy gets an earful on obscene lyrics
Happy reading!
Al Franken zoos on John Ashcroft
Einstein on religion
Bobby Kennedy gets an earful on obscene lyrics
Happy reading!
Monday, October 12, 2009
And now a word from our sponsor...
As part of my umbrella school website, which, shamefully, is still not yet online, I created an Amazon.com Associates Program, thinking I may earn a few free books if any of my recommendations pan out to interested readers. I just went ahead and added this website as well, so if you are considering a purchase, please consider clicking through to Amazon via my links. Thanks!
Friday, October 09, 2009
Progress
I just compared the calendar to my OCD homeschool spreadsheet, and it appears that we have completed 54 days of homeschooling to my other daughter's 44 days of public schooling. So even though I feel dreadfully lax and behind (yeah, I know, behind what?), we are officially ahead!
Which is good, because things here are set to get a little crazy again if all goes according to plan.
We're moving again.
Wait, wait, wait! Before you think we've completely lost our minds, this time it is only across town. Back to the sweet little city we lived in during the catastrophic events of Friday the 13th 2004. What remained of the city has since been rebuilt and restored and a new downtown riverwalk is underway. Prices of houses left standing after Charley were at a premium as people scrambled to find lodging while rebuilding and then the real estate bubble inflated prices even higher. We had always hoped to find a reasonable house in the historic district, I have always wanted to be in a walkable, small downtown neighborhood, and now finally with the downturn in the economy we may be able to realize those dreams. This might finally be our Forever Home.
It makes it much easier for Grice's morning routine, allowing her to reach school in the time it now takes us just to get to the bus stop and eliminates the additional one hour bus ride altogether. We are three blocks from the wonderful riverside park where our homeschool group meets and close to all our best buddies.
Sarabelle has been apprised of the situation to avoid the unfortunate circumstance my father encountered when he returned from the service: His family had moved in the time he was away, letters crossed in the mail, and when he knocked on the door of his childhood home it was answered by a complete stranger.
I was going to try Meg's exercise, listing all the places I have ever lived. But then I had trouble remembering... Some places we'd bought and never lived in, some places we rented and planned to buy (sometimes twice), some places we intentionally forfeited deposits on to get out of what had become a shaky deal, some were only vacant lots, and some were vacant lots with house plans we'd developed. The list was hard to define. And long.
And maybe just got longer.
Which is good, because things here are set to get a little crazy again if all goes according to plan.
We're moving again.
Wait, wait, wait! Before you think we've completely lost our minds, this time it is only across town. Back to the sweet little city we lived in during the catastrophic events of Friday the 13th 2004. What remained of the city has since been rebuilt and restored and a new downtown riverwalk is underway. Prices of houses left standing after Charley were at a premium as people scrambled to find lodging while rebuilding and then the real estate bubble inflated prices even higher. We had always hoped to find a reasonable house in the historic district, I have always wanted to be in a walkable, small downtown neighborhood, and now finally with the downturn in the economy we may be able to realize those dreams. This might finally be our Forever Home.
It makes it much easier for Grice's morning routine, allowing her to reach school in the time it now takes us just to get to the bus stop and eliminates the additional one hour bus ride altogether. We are three blocks from the wonderful riverside park where our homeschool group meets and close to all our best buddies.
Sarabelle has been apprised of the situation to avoid the unfortunate circumstance my father encountered when he returned from the service: His family had moved in the time he was away, letters crossed in the mail, and when he knocked on the door of his childhood home it was answered by a complete stranger.
I was going to try Meg's exercise, listing all the places I have ever lived. But then I had trouble remembering... Some places we'd bought and never lived in, some places we rented and planned to buy (sometimes twice), some places we intentionally forfeited deposits on to get out of what had become a shaky deal, some were only vacant lots, and some were vacant lots with house plans we'd developed. The list was hard to define. And long.
And maybe just got longer.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
A Cold Day in Hell
Two days before Hitchens and D'Souza's Great Debate I received a phone call from my mother. She wanted to chat and asked about our plans for the next few days. I tried to remain vague but it eventually came out that we were heading to Orlando for the event and would be taking the girls. She offered to drive over and keep Elle, seeing as how she might be a little young and fidgety for such a situation. Fine, I thought, that might work out well; she does get wiggly when she's tired and it was going to be a long night.
The day before the event my mother phoned back and notified me that no, she and my father would not be coming over after all. Her faith was just too important and strong for her to support something like that. Like what, a debate? An intelligent discussion of an age old question? Her side would be fairly represented... No, she insisted, she just felt too strongly about her faith.
But how strong can your faith be if it cannot stand up to any questioning?
Her logic escaped me. If it was such a dangerous intellectual atmosphere, why would she then force me back to my original plan and expose my innocent, impressionable youngest to such radical ideas? How noble of her.
The day of the debate there was an ugly message posted on my Facebook wall, querying about the "athest (sic) bullshit" and accusing me of upsetting my mother right after she had just lost her brother. It was signed, along with a little more vulgarity, by my father.
If my father knew me even just a little bit in this respect, he'd know that these ideas aren't all that new to me. They certainly predate the death of my uncle several weeks ago. In fact, his father, my beloved WASP grandfather, was the first to suggest to me, a wide-eyed nine or ten year old, that things were not all right with my family's religious beliefs when he explained the patently ridiculous idea of immaculate conception and the probable paternity of Jesus: Mary had slept with a rabbi.
(Happy belated Blasphemy Day, by the way!)
A thousand snarky replies went through my head after the initial shock and hurt at the message's tone. I was somewhat flattered. Was I so powerful that my non-belief in an afterlife had doomed my poor uncle to oblivion despite my mother's fervent prayers? Was I God? I decided to take the advice my parents seem to have forgotten about not writing things you'd be ashamed to have anyone read and left the comment displayed, unanswered, as a testament of Christian compassion and unconditional love.
My status was changed to: L____ W______ D____ has a date tonight with Christopher Hitchens.
Grice's school schedule precluded her from attending, but Elle came with us and we all had a very entertaining and informative evening from the time spent in line chucking at the girls ahead of us complaining that their teacher failed everyone in their class on the science test because he's an evolutionist!, to the devastating wit and rationality of Hitchens, to a late night Mexican dinner.
The next day the message was gone. My father not being savvy enough to know how to delete a comment, I quizzed my daughters who know my password thinking they might not have wanted anyone to see the mean-spirited comments, and my brother, who told me he had instructed my father to take it down.
Nearly two weeks passed without a word from my parents until two cards arrived in the mail yesterday, one for my each of my daughters from my mother. For no reason. With money inside. They called to thank Nana for the cards and the phone was handed to me before I could protest. My mother announced they were now ready to drive over for a visit (under the guise of a friendly get-together, but really to use our place as a launch pad for visiting west coast friends.) I insisted I wouldn't dream of asking her to compromise her values by staying with us, I know how strong her beliefs are to her. Apparently her faith is strong, but not her moral fiber; she blamed my father for the rude remarks.
One little word -- not an envelope full of money -- is all it takes.
The day before the event my mother phoned back and notified me that no, she and my father would not be coming over after all. Her faith was just too important and strong for her to support something like that. Like what, a debate? An intelligent discussion of an age old question? Her side would be fairly represented... No, she insisted, she just felt too strongly about her faith.
But how strong can your faith be if it cannot stand up to any questioning?
Her logic escaped me. If it was such a dangerous intellectual atmosphere, why would she then force me back to my original plan and expose my innocent, impressionable youngest to such radical ideas? How noble of her.
The day of the debate there was an ugly message posted on my Facebook wall, querying about the "athest (sic) bullshit" and accusing me of upsetting my mother right after she had just lost her brother. It was signed, along with a little more vulgarity, by my father.
If my father knew me even just a little bit in this respect, he'd know that these ideas aren't all that new to me. They certainly predate the death of my uncle several weeks ago. In fact, his father, my beloved WASP grandfather, was the first to suggest to me, a wide-eyed nine or ten year old, that things were not all right with my family's religious beliefs when he explained the patently ridiculous idea of immaculate conception and the probable paternity of Jesus: Mary had slept with a rabbi.
(Happy belated Blasphemy Day, by the way!)
A thousand snarky replies went through my head after the initial shock and hurt at the message's tone. I was somewhat flattered. Was I so powerful that my non-belief in an afterlife had doomed my poor uncle to oblivion despite my mother's fervent prayers? Was I God? I decided to take the advice my parents seem to have forgotten about not writing things you'd be ashamed to have anyone read and left the comment displayed, unanswered, as a testament of Christian compassion and unconditional love.
My status was changed to: L____ W______ D____ has a date tonight with Christopher Hitchens.
Grice's school schedule precluded her from attending, but Elle came with us and we all had a very entertaining and informative evening from the time spent in line chucking at the girls ahead of us complaining that their teacher failed everyone in their class on the science test because he's an evolutionist!, to the devastating wit and rationality of Hitchens, to a late night Mexican dinner.
The next day the message was gone. My father not being savvy enough to know how to delete a comment, I quizzed my daughters who know my password thinking they might not have wanted anyone to see the mean-spirited comments, and my brother, who told me he had instructed my father to take it down.
Nearly two weeks passed without a word from my parents until two cards arrived in the mail yesterday, one for my each of my daughters from my mother. For no reason. With money inside. They called to thank Nana for the cards and the phone was handed to me before I could protest. My mother announced they were now ready to drive over for a visit (under the guise of a friendly get-together, but really to use our place as a launch pad for visiting west coast friends.) I insisted I wouldn't dream of asking her to compromise her values by staying with us, I know how strong her beliefs are to her. Apparently her faith is strong, but not her moral fiber; she blamed my father for the rude remarks.
One little word -- not an envelope full of money -- is all it takes.
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