Today The Parents came over to help me start painting the kitchen. I had cleaned out all the cabinets and counters, swept out the muck behind the oven and refrigerator, and cleaned the baseboards before they got here. We had to finish sanding the epoxy on the kitchen (back) door before we began painting. I did as much as I could before asking daddy to put the muscle on the job to get it finished. He did, and it turned out pretty well, I think. I mean, it's no Bob Vila job, but it looks a heckuva lot better than it did before. I am not sure if I mentioned it, but that door had several scratches and a big hunk of missing wood from where Charlie had freaked out on it once upon a time. (He was not pleased to be stuck inside when the neighbor's cat would come into our yard and taunt him.) Anyway, we got it done, and the painting began. The first coat is finished, and we'll be finishing the second coat tomorrow. Thankfully, this is an all white job (walls and trim), so we don't have to be so precise on the edging. Then, later this week, I'm gonna tackle the bathroom. It's small enough that I can do it myself if needed. After that ... just some of the smaller detail stuff, and then the sign in the yard! (And a huge sigh of relief from yours truly.)
The realtor came by today to take some photos of the yard. Had I known she was coming today, I would have made sure the grass was cut, but, still, it wasn't too bad. She made me laugh when she told me she just wanted to get some good shots of the plants while they were all green and blooming, in case it happens to be December when I finally get it on the market. (I think, perhaps, she's going to be happy to see that sign go in the yard, as well.) She did get some nice photos, though, so I was glad she came by. Turns out the rules have changed regarding the MLS listings: Used to be one was only allowed to post 12 photos of a property for sale; now, the limit's 25! That works very much in my favor, since my yard is one of the big selling features of my home. Glad I've been taking photos, as well, during each of the blooming cycles in my gardens!
Physically, I've been doing pretty well. I'm still keeping up a pretty regular schedule of exercise. I'm also still trying to make healthy food choices (without limiting flavor, of course!) But, I've also still been having insomnia, and, so, am tired more than I should be or want to be. I'm hoping to start trying to go to bed earlier and to regulate my sleep cycle and see if that helps. If you have any suggestions, I'd be overjoyed to hear them!
That's it for now, folks. Thanks for reading, and continued luck and success on your own adventures!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
10 August, 2010
05 April, 2010
Cake and Eggs?
Today is my birthday. Happy birthday to me. Though, it doesn't really seem as festive as I'd hoped. I'm sharing a birthday with a major Christian holiday, and that always just seems like a rip off. This fact is being driven home by the somewhat forced dinner I've been invited to attend at my parents' home today. My mother is very good at getting her way. And while I will enjoy spending time with my family, it's not really how I would have chosen to celebrate today.
Anyway ... that's not important. I'm just feeling a tad sorry for myself, I think. It's been such a difficult couple of weeks. The yard sale was last Saturday. It went very well. I unloaded much more of my stuff than I ever expected to, and made a decent cash stash to boot. All the preparations, pricing, organizing, set up, and clean up were a nice distraction to keep me from getting too bogged down in my grief over Charlie's absence. However, once the sale was over, I was left without that lovely distraction, and have been feeling those sharp pangs of grief in many moments. I imagine this will be happening for a while. Just last night I had this very precise moment when I realized - almost as if for the first time - that Charlie is really not coming back. He's not on vacation. He's not outside playing in the yard. He's gone. Forever. Needless to say, that was a pretty crappy moment.
My sister also moved last week. Her new apartment is fantastic. It's an old building in the middle of Durham. She's on the top floor. The entire place is reminiscent of an apartment building in New York City. She's been unpacking and decorating and buying lovely new/old pieces of furniture and decor. It's absolutely charming. Seeing her in this new place and watching her go through the process of making it her home and her canvas, of sorts, has started to reawaken the nester in me. It's as if there's a quiet battle raging within between the Happy Homemaker and the Restless Nomad. But, I'm sticking to my Path and just continuing to follow the plan I've laid out already. I am trusting that if the Path needs to change, then I will know it so strongly and so completely that there will be no doubt about which direction to choose. And when I listen to my quiet little internal voice, it is still guiding me toward the RV. I have to remember this when I find myself fantasizing about Sister's apartment.
Now that the yard sale has opened up some space in the house, it's time to start making some repairs. I'd really like to get the house on the market by May, if possible. (Though I do realize that this might be a slightly lofty aspiration.) Yesterday, Dad came over and helped me patch up the cracks on the chimney. Hopefully this will keep the chimney from leaking anymore. The sealant was quite toxic, so the breathing of it wasn't so fun, but the views of the neighborhood from the roof of my house were really lovely. I'd never been on my roof before. Perhaps I'll go again before I move, and take my camera for some photographic memories.
Tomorrow we are planning to replace the bathroom sink. I bought the new one already, we just need to remove the old one and put the new one in its place. It's been so long since I installed the last sink. I hope I remember how to do it properly without having to make fourteen hundred trips to the hardware store like last time. But it will be nice to start seeing some real improvement taking place in the house. And it will be very nice to start checking off items on my repair list.
Okay, time to go to my "birthday dinner". Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. If you don't, then I'll wish you a very merry unbirthday!
Anyway ... that's not important. I'm just feeling a tad sorry for myself, I think. It's been such a difficult couple of weeks. The yard sale was last Saturday. It went very well. I unloaded much more of my stuff than I ever expected to, and made a decent cash stash to boot. All the preparations, pricing, organizing, set up, and clean up were a nice distraction to keep me from getting too bogged down in my grief over Charlie's absence. However, once the sale was over, I was left without that lovely distraction, and have been feeling those sharp pangs of grief in many moments. I imagine this will be happening for a while. Just last night I had this very precise moment when I realized - almost as if for the first time - that Charlie is really not coming back. He's not on vacation. He's not outside playing in the yard. He's gone. Forever. Needless to say, that was a pretty crappy moment.
My sister also moved last week. Her new apartment is fantastic. It's an old building in the middle of Durham. She's on the top floor. The entire place is reminiscent of an apartment building in New York City. She's been unpacking and decorating and buying lovely new/old pieces of furniture and decor. It's absolutely charming. Seeing her in this new place and watching her go through the process of making it her home and her canvas, of sorts, has started to reawaken the nester in me. It's as if there's a quiet battle raging within between the Happy Homemaker and the Restless Nomad. But, I'm sticking to my Path and just continuing to follow the plan I've laid out already. I am trusting that if the Path needs to change, then I will know it so strongly and so completely that there will be no doubt about which direction to choose. And when I listen to my quiet little internal voice, it is still guiding me toward the RV. I have to remember this when I find myself fantasizing about Sister's apartment.
Now that the yard sale has opened up some space in the house, it's time to start making some repairs. I'd really like to get the house on the market by May, if possible. (Though I do realize that this might be a slightly lofty aspiration.) Yesterday, Dad came over and helped me patch up the cracks on the chimney. Hopefully this will keep the chimney from leaking anymore. The sealant was quite toxic, so the breathing of it wasn't so fun, but the views of the neighborhood from the roof of my house were really lovely. I'd never been on my roof before. Perhaps I'll go again before I move, and take my camera for some photographic memories.
Tomorrow we are planning to replace the bathroom sink. I bought the new one already, we just need to remove the old one and put the new one in its place. It's been so long since I installed the last sink. I hope I remember how to do it properly without having to make fourteen hundred trips to the hardware store like last time. But it will be nice to start seeing some real improvement taking place in the house. And it will be very nice to start checking off items on my repair list.
Okay, time to go to my "birthday dinner". Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. If you don't, then I'll wish you a very merry unbirthday!
25 March, 2010
Letting Go
I have written several times of the emotional expenditures involved with saying goodbye to the attachments of my old life and creating a [relatively] blank canvas for my new one. This point was very painfully and articulately driven home earlier this week.
I went out of town this weekend to visit my grandfather in Kentucky, and to meet my parents who were there to help a friend box up her deceased husband's clothes. All things considered, it was a nice trip. I was able to take a lot of walks around the town where I spent the earliest years of my childhood. And that gave me a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I started thinking about Charlie, my canine companion of 11 years, and my best friend in the world. I started wondering if anything I was doing with his diet, his skincare, his supplements was helping to make him feel better. I started thinking the thought that had been nagging at me for weeks, but to which I was too mortified to give conscious thought: Am I being selfish by hanging on to Charlie when he might be much more grateful to be released? The thought, of course, filled me with varying flavors of guilt, heavy sadness, and a heartache like I scarcely remember ever feeling. And that was just thinking about it..
When I returned home on Sunday night, greeted by my ever faithful Charlie at the door, I realized something that I hadn't fully noticed when being in the house full time: The house smelled very strongly of 'sick dog'. The odor hit me like a thrust from a prize fighter. I knew what was coming next. But, I still wasn't ready to admit it.
The next day, I forced myself to really consider Charlie. I wanted to try to put myself in his skin, and think about how I would want to be cared for by my companion. I could almost hear him telling me that he was only still hanging around because he knew how much I needed him. He didn't want to let me down. He was afraid to leave me. I knew he'd been miserable for some time, and even though I tried to tell myself that he was showing little signs of improvement - a slight patch of hair was starting to regrow; he was falling down not quite as many times as he has been - I knew that his eyes had been telling me what I didn't want to know. There'd been no joy in his eyes for months. When I looked at him, I only saw an exhausted determination to keep trying to make it through the day.
I had my answer. I had a silent exchange with Charlie, and I could swear that I saw relief in his eyes..
I called my parents to ask for their thoughts on the subject. Would they think I was a monster if I helped Charlie to find the peace I finally knew he needed?
They were wonderful and supportive.
I asked my sister the same thing. She said she was surprised I hadn't made the decision a while ago. She was totally understanding and a great pillar of support.
I asked my mother to make an appointment for us that same day.
So, on Monday, the whole family (mom, dad, sister, and me) all went to the veterinary office with Charlie. I asked mom to make him some bacon. I asked sister to bring him a banana. I shared some buttery toast with him before we left. He rode in my lap all the way there.
Charlie has never been a big fan of visits to the vet. He doesn't get crazy, but he's usually pretty tense and cautious when we have to go. This time he was cool as a cucumber ... which was surprising all the more, since his family was surrounding him with tearful attention like he'd never experienced. At first I thought he must think we are all crazy to be so sad. After all, he was receiving love, attention, and bacon from the people who love him. But, I think he just knew why he was there, and was ready to say goodbye.
He was tranquilized first, which was hard enough. And then we all gathered round him as he was given the injection that would stop his heart and give him the peace I knew he'd been wanting for so long. He didn't look scared. I stayed at his head and kept looking in his eyes so that I would be the last thing he would see, and he would know that he was safe. Then, his eyes rolled back, and it was over.
I think this was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I have cried and moaned and wailed in the deepest, most gutteral tones of unadulterated grief. But, I have been supported by my family and friends. My sister, especially, has been a great help to me.
And, it's also fortuitous that the yard sale I'd already planned is this Saturday, so I have had lots of distractions in getting ready for that. Clearing out the house, and seeing it look less like a home is actually a great comfort to me right now. The hardest moments for me are when I come into the house, and he's not here to greet me. Eleven years of having him at the door when I enter it ... it feels very lonely to be without that.
So, it must really be time for me to learn the lesson of Letting Go. It's a bitch of a lesson, but I'm trying to handle it with as much grace as I can. And with that, and a little help from my friends [and family], I know I'll find my way.
I went out of town this weekend to visit my grandfather in Kentucky, and to meet my parents who were there to help a friend box up her deceased husband's clothes. All things considered, it was a nice trip. I was able to take a lot of walks around the town where I spent the earliest years of my childhood. And that gave me a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I started thinking about Charlie, my canine companion of 11 years, and my best friend in the world. I started wondering if anything I was doing with his diet, his skincare, his supplements was helping to make him feel better. I started thinking the thought that had been nagging at me for weeks, but to which I was too mortified to give conscious thought: Am I being selfish by hanging on to Charlie when he might be much more grateful to be released? The thought, of course, filled me with varying flavors of guilt, heavy sadness, and a heartache like I scarcely remember ever feeling. And that was just thinking about it..
When I returned home on Sunday night, greeted by my ever faithful Charlie at the door, I realized something that I hadn't fully noticed when being in the house full time: The house smelled very strongly of 'sick dog'. The odor hit me like a thrust from a prize fighter. I knew what was coming next. But, I still wasn't ready to admit it.
The next day, I forced myself to really consider Charlie. I wanted to try to put myself in his skin, and think about how I would want to be cared for by my companion. I could almost hear him telling me that he was only still hanging around because he knew how much I needed him. He didn't want to let me down. He was afraid to leave me. I knew he'd been miserable for some time, and even though I tried to tell myself that he was showing little signs of improvement - a slight patch of hair was starting to regrow; he was falling down not quite as many times as he has been - I knew that his eyes had been telling me what I didn't want to know. There'd been no joy in his eyes for months. When I looked at him, I only saw an exhausted determination to keep trying to make it through the day.
I had my answer. I had a silent exchange with Charlie, and I could swear that I saw relief in his eyes..
I called my parents to ask for their thoughts on the subject. Would they think I was a monster if I helped Charlie to find the peace I finally knew he needed?
They were wonderful and supportive.
I asked my sister the same thing. She said she was surprised I hadn't made the decision a while ago. She was totally understanding and a great pillar of support.
I asked my mother to make an appointment for us that same day.
So, on Monday, the whole family (mom, dad, sister, and me) all went to the veterinary office with Charlie. I asked mom to make him some bacon. I asked sister to bring him a banana. I shared some buttery toast with him before we left. He rode in my lap all the way there.
Charlie has never been a big fan of visits to the vet. He doesn't get crazy, but he's usually pretty tense and cautious when we have to go. This time he was cool as a cucumber ... which was surprising all the more, since his family was surrounding him with tearful attention like he'd never experienced. At first I thought he must think we are all crazy to be so sad. After all, he was receiving love, attention, and bacon from the people who love him. But, I think he just knew why he was there, and was ready to say goodbye.
He was tranquilized first, which was hard enough. And then we all gathered round him as he was given the injection that would stop his heart and give him the peace I knew he'd been wanting for so long. He didn't look scared. I stayed at his head and kept looking in his eyes so that I would be the last thing he would see, and he would know that he was safe. Then, his eyes rolled back, and it was over.
I think this was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I have cried and moaned and wailed in the deepest, most gutteral tones of unadulterated grief. But, I have been supported by my family and friends. My sister, especially, has been a great help to me.
And, it's also fortuitous that the yard sale I'd already planned is this Saturday, so I have had lots of distractions in getting ready for that. Clearing out the house, and seeing it look less like a home is actually a great comfort to me right now. The hardest moments for me are when I come into the house, and he's not here to greet me. Eleven years of having him at the door when I enter it ... it feels very lonely to be without that.
So, it must really be time for me to learn the lesson of Letting Go. It's a bitch of a lesson, but I'm trying to handle it with as much grace as I can. And with that, and a little help from my friends [and family], I know I'll find my way.
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