The Parade

So, my husband and I are home improvement junkies. We watch everything there is to watch on HGTV and DYI Network, and we parade all of the homes there are to parade in a season, three counties over. We like to learn about what’s possible in a home, just because we’re both, at core, really, home bodies. We need to make it as comfortable as we can, right?! And what are you gonna do when you make less money than your heart desires to spend? You dream, and you snoop on others who can afford it, right?!

And you can surely dream while visiting these places – for as many great ideas as we have gotten from these tours, we have gotten that many crazy ones, too. And the people watching is priceless!

Great ideas we have seen. And I am not talking about the really “crazy”, extravagant ones, like golf courses in the basement, and skate boarding half pipes, and mini movie theaters with 20 recliners on premises. Or basement bars with 4-5 suspended television sets above your head. Or indoor pools and bedroom balconies complete with hot tubs and water slides into the waterfall pool down below … I am also talking about the practical, new ideas that we can actually use in real life, for better insulation, cost saving siding and roofing, creative and economical ways to build heating and cooling systems, using solar and wind energy. The list goes on and on. These latter features are really the lessons we learn, constructively, for when we might be ready, one day, to build our own humble abode. One day!

With every house we see, we become more and more fascinated by what’s deemed “comfortable” and “needed” in today’s world. And what is a home anymore? Is it just a place to shelter you from the seasons and offer you comfort at the end of a long week? Or very much a showcase of how much money you have and how wild your architect and interior designer get? Do these people really need all the 10 bedrooms and 12 baths? Really? I know Utah people have large families, but seriously? Most of these mansions have so many “toys” they would never be fit for kids anyway. A horse barn and a waterfall? And a vintage kitchen as if peeled from a French magazine?! Sometimes I wonder how they even have time to cover by foot all the square footage in their own home, in a whole year! I bet you they stash stuff in closets and forget about it, and end up with 10 of the same thing when they eventually move out.

View of the Salt Lake Valley from the living room of one of the homes on Capitol Hill

The size of the homes is not the only thing that amazes me, though. The materials sometimes are unreal, as well as the facilities. You can see everything from elevators to complicated intercom and surround sound systems, from wrap around porches on the second floor to mini play rooms tucked under staircases for the really little ones.

Sinks, in various shapes and colors, made of anything from Murano to recycled glass, the quiet, infinity bathtubs, the efficient (and also quiet) toilets, the 2 toilet master baths, each with its own little room, the views of some of these homes … oh, my! And some homes are built just purely for fun – like the replica of the “Up” house – yes, a real life, very much in-livable copy of the house you saw in Pixar’s “Up” cartoon. Tell me that’s not done purely for experiment and show?!

The "Up" House - complete with the balloons and a hired (or volunteer?!) "actor". The living room has a mural of 'Paradise Falls' above the fireplace and many other movie details

They had on the radio today that the majority of people in Haiti don’t have “permanent homes:”, they live in tents, under tarps and cardboard roofs, in these temporary shelters, since last year’s earthquake, but in America, we can afford to spend a minimum of $100,000 for a “simple home” just for the sake of building.

But it’s fun to snoop. Except for the low points.

The visits are usually fun, except for some “snags” that cramp our picky styles. Like, the infamous “surgeon’s booties”. Man, whoever invented the system was not very bright! I mean – the use of these booties at the home shows: they ask you to slip them over your shoes, not to step on the rugs/ carpet/ hardwoods with your muddy shoes (no mud in the desert, mind you, but …). The worst part is not the wearing of them, but the fact that they reuse them over and over and over again for three weeks straight. And since it’s summer time, most everyone wears sandals – and the booties are wet and smelly from likewise feet! Some homes ask you to put the booties on over you bare feet – again, reusing them forever … and then … it gets really juicy! Some parades, however, forgo the booties, and those are our favorite, no matter what homes they have on display!

Then, it’s the mandatory “chat”. There is usually a representative from the builder’s business or the realtor who’s listing the house – and they must talk to you, about their business, and about your needs, and how the two might meet. And we're not talkers.

I must say, though, other than their normal "business curiosity" – they’re in this business to make money, right?! – they are not too bad. They don’t require you to sign anything, at any time. Some of them might offer a drawing for home décor or other home services, but they are not forcing anyone to sign up – which is pretty nice.

But then, there is the painter guy who makes all the art and murals in the house. And the stay-at-home mom jewelry maker, and the Blazer scooter salesman, and … the trust fund guy – all waiting for you to exit through the garage and while you’re helplessly and embarrassingly and disgustedly peeling off your booties, they jump on your back like a flock of hungry vultures – even with nothing but dirty looks at times - making you feel even smaller than wearing the booties does and answer their lame questions about when was the last time you thought of a will or a trust fund?! I guess they make money at this – but, again: seriously?! Is that a place to “hit people up” for stuff like that?! Credit card offers are next, I am sure!

As for the other visitors, they are usually polite and courteous. Except for the high maintenance wife who insists on yelling out how cheap everything looks compared to her own house, while she snaps shots with her Iphone and sends them over to her rich husband, on business in Shanghai, I am sure. Or except for the parents who think the open house is a new playground that just opened for their 5 kids, and who are letting them behave likewise … But then … they never offer lessons in behaving in public at these joints, so what are you going to do?! All are welcome, and as we know: “all” is a pretty wide range.

Overall, it’s a fun experience. Educational, in many ways, enlightening in more of others, and never boring – by any stretch of the imagination. If you think it’s boring, just ask my husband for the cure: open a cupboard or a closet, and you’ll find a reason for a chuckle. Almost always!

We were so shocked that someone had the guts to display this at the entrance. We had to emigrate to Salt Lake County for this, but ... it was a treat!

Garden in the Desert. It Is Possible.

"There are no gardening mistakes, only experiments." -- Janet Kilburn Phillips

You might remember that last year I was fighting the desert and the rocky yard, to get some green going in our surroundings, or to at least clean out the junk and the rocks.

Our blooming pear tree

After a year of digging up stones, I am happy to say … I am still digging up stones in our yard. But unlike the desperation I have felt last year, I feel sort of a sense of peace now: the rocks are there to stay. They were here first and they will be there forever, I have learned. It’s not just me, it’s everyone around us, apparently. Man against stone yield winning stone. That’s what the rocky (and otherwise beautiful) landscape of Utah is. We were here second, and if we want to eat, we need to learn to work around them. Just dig, "fluff" up the soil, remove the rocks and hope. Hope big!

Hibiscus plant in our front porch planters

Some things have taken root. Some things baked in the sun – like some herbs in some containers even, because of the scorching sun, and some flowers that were always perennials, as far as I could tell, in NC, died after the first frost in UT.

Back yard trees, bushes and veggie garden to the right

We have had our frustrations. And our lessons. But we built up courage this (second) year to plant a few things in our yard. We put in a fence, for more privacy, and we planted some trees, fruit trees, evergreen bushes, and even a veggie garden. It’s all started to take shape and it’s a beautiful oasis in the world around us, otherwise very yellow and … well, rocky!

Veggie garden: tomatoes, peppers, squash, herbs and onions

The picking of the plants, and the building of the garden felt so therapeutic! We shopped around for what grows around here and we narrowed it down to our budget, preferences and to "what stays green the longest" - if that's an official criterion. I have wanted a veggie garden, too, so we took some chances, and planted some of those, too – and we will just wait and see what happens.

Front yard feature bed: Japanese maple with juniper bush and hand picked Utah rocks

We did it together, sort of like our project for planting roots in a new ground! It was beautiful. I am really, really proud of it! We still have weeds around and no official “lawn”, but to us, it’s a world of difference! It’s green and the birds love it, and we have worms, and it all breathes relief and joy! I don't see sod or a sprinkler system in our near future, but I see letting the ground be, and seeing what it offers us. We also have tomatoes, and peppers and dill and squash and evergreen bushes and trees, too! A world of possibilities, now!

Bloom of the mountains - columbine, in our front porch planters

We have not had many sunny, warm days this spring. But in the few we “stole” from the calendar, we could plant, and dig, and fertilize, and prune, and pick plants and put them in. Together. Our new life , before our eyes. Seeded.

Happy birds, in our back yard trees, against the new fence

Taming the Desert ?! Well, ...

Plants are an investment. I have learned that quick and early all the way back in first grade. Mom wanted to teach us how beans sprout. So, we put dried beans in cotton balls, watered them and waited to see what happened. Sure, then, it was just a water and time kind of investment, but extrapolating that experiment through planting various things during later years, I have learned a lot about growing plants. I have learned that you put time, money, effort into your yard, and something will come out, and another thing will not, and a whole different thing will come out only to die a few weeks later.

And for some sick reason, as filthy cheap as I usually am, I do spend cash on plants and soil! Now, sure, some folks out there (husband included) don’t get it to save their lives. I guess it’s just the (very hidden and small) mother in me or something that loves to nurture and care for “something”, and since God didn’t put the bio clock in me, for me, it’s tending to plants. I love to see healthy, beautiful flowers, trees and herbs, and just … any greenery around me that it’s the direct result of my efforts to keep them healthy. I love to work for it, sweat for it, and wait. Yeah, me, who also hates waiting, love to watch plants grow and bloom. Go figure!

You do remember, perhaps, that when I moved to “the desert”, back in May, I had to learn not only a new way to garden (because of the dry climate), but a new way to handle a very different kind of soil: a hard, rocky, sandy, dirty, debris filled soil … I was sure it’ll take me years to have just grass growing in it … Well, several months later, and trying not to pay attention to the husband’s (or the friends’ or the neighbors’) rolling of the eyes and serious doubts that I can in fact grow anything around us, I am happy to say the place looks a bit different. Not much, but to me, some.

Our small flower bed, in front of the house

We do have grass! Alas, we have grass AND weeds growing on this bald spot that used to be a dumping site for the neighborhood … And I did venture out to have one flower bed. A small and contained bed, manageable for now. We also have beautiful, custom made, wooden planters (my awesome husband’s contribution to my “yard project”), full of healthy, gorgeous, green plants, some desert loving, some lush. We have pots and planters around the home, and even a tomato plant, upside down, because I went crazy trying to find home grown tomatoes in this area, so I finally decided to plant my own, late and hot as it may be right now! Our dill and basil sort of fried out there in the sun, and so did the ice plants. But everything else looks pretty healthy, as you can see.

Detail on wooden planter (built by Aa. from scratch) with healthy greenery in it.



I think my favorite: frail and healthy (fast growing) ivy and cedar detail.

The still very frail and timid presence of these “live” things just makes me smile and makes me feel like I am finally at home.

We will get good soil, along with fertilizer, in the fall, but till then, our pots and planters have healthy dirt that will keep the very few things I have planted happy. I hope. And just like investment goes: you gain some and you lose some, but you can always count on learning a good lesson! And so, I am learning, day by day … the challenges and the beauty of having plants in the desert. And I am not done yet. This is merely the beginning …

Color, color and more color!



Can you smell it?! Probably my second favorite: lavender.



No, you don't need to flip it around: topsy-turvy tomato, or "the new kid".



Details from planter and flower bed, respectively: they call these "hen and chicks", but I call them "desert roses". They are sooo pretty!

... And Now, with Pictures

Last week, I was talking about the love and the hatred, and the hardships of trying to get our yard cleaned up from all the construction debris and human carelessness. This week, my great husband was kind enough to break his own back and pick up all the junk I had stored at various ends of the yard. He then loaded it in the “Hemi”, aka our (to me, very large) Dodge truck. Now, we’re both in pain!

Here you can see a picture he took of all the rock I pulled out of the yard (the trash went in a different can), along with the mower that died trying to cut through it.

One good thing out of this though (along with hopefully having a clean yard) is that should I ever get dragged in community service to dig ditches in Utah, I’ve got the digging through this rocky soil down pat!

The evidence ...

Yard Laws

Too bad that I didn’t move to Utah back in the Wild West days! Because if I had done that, I would have taken my gun, and made one or two laws of the land of my own! One of them would definitely be: no builder should ever turn a house to a buyer without cleaning the junk in the yard first.

And I am not saying plant some trees, or some grass, or landscape before they sell it, I am just simply saying: CLEAN UP after yourself! My late English teacher back home used to ask himself why in the world do human beings feel the need , when they go out into the world, to leave their human “scarnavia” (impossible to translate correctly, something like “foulness” but much, much, much stronger!) behind themselves, like they would want to mark their territory or something.

That’s what I have been asking myself for the past two days while removing hard materials from our yard.

As I have said before, our yard is sort of challenging. The little grass that’s growing is overwhelmed by weeds. I like them, though, just the same – at least they’re green! There are many bald spots in the grass and a huge one right outside the back door. The little bit of greenery is also littered with rocks. Lots of little and big boulders and pebbles, like the house was set in a former river bed or something. We already, only after three mowings, lost a (brand new) mower to this yard, because the blade kept hitting the rocks (and other hard stuff), and the engine burned out from overworking, since the whole area is very uneven, too.

And when we waste money like that is when I lose it. So, that’s when I went out there with a hoe, a shovel, rakes, a mini rake, a mini scoop-like shovel, my bare hands, my gloved hands, my strong will and mushy muscles, determined to un-earth whatever hard materials are out there, and try to leave the soil unlittered and soft. Or as soft as the desert Utah soil can be.

For weeks I have heard Aa. telling me about the junk in the yard, and the impossibility of unburying it, because the soil is so hard and stuff is just stuck in it, but I never knew how bad it was out there. Till the mower broke and I actually got close to the ground to see what bothers it!

I picked up stuff you cannot even imagine. Sure, there were rocks! There were stones, too, and some of them even pretty. But most of the overflowing wheelbarrow I have parked out back is full of much more human yielding materials than just those “natural” ones.

You can practically tell, in our yard, where the contractor dumped the gravel pile, and the flat stone pile, and where the wood was cut for the cabinets, perhaps. You can tell where they mixed the concrete, from the huge slabs of concrete mixture buried in the yellow soil, and where they had their lunch, from all the flattened coke and water bottles and cans. You can tell where they had their smoke break. Along with concrete, gravel, plastic, half pipes, cigarette butts, you can find pieces of paper (made me wonder if those were someone’s toilet paper before they had a Porta John handy?! – sorry for the image), pieces of cloth, mesh, duct tape, lots of nails, electrical wire and rubber.

I cannot feel my knees from bending them for a day and a half, picking up all this litter. I hope, with a clean, breathing yard, and a smooth surface, and with “fluffed up” bald spots, my grass seed will take root and soon this yard will at least have green in it.

And let me tell you: after all this work to just have grass out there, I will never take a yard with nothing but grass in it for granted! Never!

I also hope that our new (again!) mower will not have any of this junk to hit anymore and it will at least last us a season. The soil is still uneven, but hopefully, with new growth, the mower will not try to cut rock and rubber, but actual grass. Now, I pray for rain, as the junk is gone and the seed is waiting to sprout. I hope.

If you ever wonder where those bottles that take a million years (or something) to decompose were dumped, come to my yard and find them. And I betcha, the yard of any new construction out there, for that matter … Just unbelievable how careless (and ignorant) humans can be!

And since there is no law to punish a builder for leaving a yard so junky, and since there is so much physical work involved in cleaning after a builder, I think the time one takes to make a yard clean and at least livable should build right up into the equity of the house! So, our house, when ready to be sold, should read like this in the MLS: “house built in 2007. Junk removed from yard in 2010”. That would make the yard three years younger than the house! And I think it should matter.

Settling In

You would never think one has so much to do without a job, or kids for that matter, but you would be wrong. I told someone last week that when they invented the saying “a woman’s job was never done” that woman was probably moving! I swear to you, I will never see the end of unpacking. I packed my house up in NC in a week. Well, I have been unpacking for a week, also, and I am nowhere near done.

My new house looks like a storage facility threw up in it! Nothing is orderly. Everything that came out of boxes is stashed up, in less trafficked corners, apparently “out of the way”. But nothing can be out of my visual way, so to me, they’re just as bothersome as if they were piled up in my bed!

I know for some folks this could sound boring – just unpacking all day long, day after day, but to me, it’s a mission! I cannot settle in before everything has a designated spot and is out of my (or our) way.

Although the whole unpacking and cleaning business has been sort of stressful (and unsettling), on the other hand, I have been really enjoying just being here – if that makes any sense at all.

It’s been a life long dream to live in the mountains. Any mountains. A very dear childhood friend of mine used to tell me that “to love mountains you have to listen to them with your heart. Not with your ears, nor look at them with your eyes. Just feel and understand them with your heart.” My heart is filled with so much joy every morning, from looking at so much beauty! And every trip, however short, to the grocery store, or a place to eat, is an occasion to be breathless just by looking at the world around me. No effort needed.

Someone at my old job used to say about the Provo area that you can literally see mountains everywhere around you, out every window in the house. It’s true! You never forget you’re in the mountains. Everything is so beautiful out there, at the horizon, anything that’s in between you and that doesn’t really bear importance at all!

This weekend Aa. and I went for a walk on the Provo River. It was sort of eerie to me, because it felt very much like spring. And I have seen spring. And summer, this year – lots of them, this year, in NC. So, this was like somehow I turned back in time and landed in spring again!

The fresh, timid green of the trees, the chill in the air, the loud birds happy to be out and about again, the bubbling mountain river, rich and muddy with melted snow, everything spoke “spring”. No butterflies yet, and very few blooms.

I was so thrilled to find out that two of my most favorite plants are doing very well in this climate: grape vines and lilacs! The lilac trees were in full bloom, and beautiful purple, and the grape vines, although I didn’t take a close up of them (the owner was right behind the fence!), had fresh leaves and they were healthily hanging on to the fence! Yes! Next year, I’ll be all over those in the nursery and they’ll come home with me!

I will have to say that although I am not a humidity hater, like my husband, it is nice to be able to be out there in 80 degrees and not feel like you’re breathing water! The air is crisp and clean. They forecast pollen every day here, but I don’t see it, and don’t taste it in my throat and mouth like I did in NC! It’s very different.

I’ve managed to stop for a little bit and shoot some views around the house, as well as on the Provo River Parkway trail. The mountains, the lakes, the fast streams and the ages old surroundings all whisper familiarly to me that I am home. It’s a nice feeling, my heart says. Click here for these shots.

The High (and Painful) Price of a Dream

The House of Guilt - of sorts

So, I never quite got comfortable in this very house of mine. I think I have said it before, and I apologize (not really) for the repeat, but I don’t think I have ever gotten over the buyer’s remorse on this joint. At the time I bought it, I thought it was a dream come true. I still think that, in fact. It was my coming of age as a grown woman: it was coming into adulthood from the condo, college-like living I had before, as a single woman.

So, I plunged into it thinking this is what I have worked for all my life, and praying that I will be in it forever (uumm … 30 years at least) to pay it off. I knew at the time, though, that is just about as much as I can possibly swallow without choking on it. It was a bit too much, but not enough to cause me to say a definite “no”.

My gut was in knots though and I sensed than one day, this will be trouble. A friend advised that I will make more money in a couple of years, as it happens, usually, and that will not be an issue. Only the friend didn’t foresee the economic crisis that followed almost immediately after I signed the bottom line, even before the ink dried on the paper. A not so favorable loan had me borrow it at painful terms, and thus my guilt towards my hard earned money deepened!

I am not exactly house poor, as I have been able to play, too, and go out and have fun with friends, and donate to my charities, and also take some trips and play with some of the money, as well. Or at least I was not house poor till before I quit my job about a week ago.

I did make good use of it, too, I will not be ungrateful: I have enjoyed people having their own quarters when they come to town, especially since it’s illegal in my family to book hotel rooms if a relative lives in town. I have enjoyed the back yard, and all the greenery I have planted there; the grapes and strawberries, fresh dill and parsley, fresh onions and rosemary for my omelets. I have enjoyed the quietness of the area, and the changes of the seasons in the beautiful, huge oak trees across the street from me. I have also enjoyed having e designated place for every single thing, and a room with a purpose for everything, like they teach you on HGTV! I have also loved, loved, loved my huge kitchen, where I never run out of space when I cook or when I have to store a new pot or pan! It’s been all great!

But, alas, plans are made only to be broken by life, aren’t they?! Now, the prospect, which is slowly turning into an ugly reality, of no job, a wee bit too much of a payment plus utilities plus HOA fees which I swear must be fed on growth hormones or something, because they are insane (at $158 a month for grass trimming) is becoming more and more bitter. Even more so than before, the straps on the shoulders of this too big of a weight are cutting into my back.

The house sits quietly on the market, for exactly a month and two weeks today, along with other 20+ homes (I think) in the same neighborhood, 5 of which are in the same parking lot as mine, listed at a lower price than I bought it for, to make it more appealing. I sit here, on a quiet and beautiful spring afternoon waiting for seers, “passer-by”-ers. Isn’t spring the time deemed by all realtors to be the most appropriate for home buying?! And isn't Sunday the most perfect of days for real estate?! So ... where are the people? I sit here, and I listen to the sound of birds and swishy wind in the new leaves of yet a new spring. And I try with all my might not to cry or to hurt myself for the guilt I feel for buying too much of a dream!

I do know that every house sells. Eventually. And I know this, too, shall sell, and pass. But I cannot help but feel ever so guilty for burdening not only me, but my husband also with an expense which could have been so much more bearable should it have been planned a little bit more carefully …

And unlike so many people out there, I have enough self respect to not blame “W.”, not the banks, not the economy, not Obama for something that I signed up for with no gun against my temple.

It still makes me choke up with guilt and lose sleep at night, because I seldom screw up, you see. But I guess it keeps me real, too, and reminds me that I too can make a very wrong decision sometimes. The comforting thought that we are not infallible is so sweet! When I’ll chase a dream next time, I’ll ask for an insurance policy first. If only life can give you one, that is. *Sigh*.

A Mental Deck Chair

So, the countdown has started. The countdown to my starting a new chapter in my life, that is. So far, everything was in sort of a happy-go-lucky, dreamy, planning stage. Now, the doing phase has begun. And let me tell you, I feel like I am standing near a mountain of huge stuffed bears that were holding up so ever so tenderly, and someone has recently pulled a bear out of the stack, and the whole mountain moved. And I am standing there, holding on to it for dear life, so I’d prevent it from burying me under it.

Overwhelmed and scared is what I feel. I mentioned this before: my motto in life, when I left high school was “I am scared but I like it”. Now, older, and really not much wiser than then, I would say “I am scared and that’s it”. ‘Cause I surely as heck am not liking this!

And I think the issue is control. The stuff I worry about, from everything I have to do in a day is not stuff that I can control. That, the knowing and known stuff, it’s what gives me comfort. I know: it’s a truism: knowledge gives you power – so, you won’t be afraid of what you know. But only now, when I am buried under all the details and all the chores, and under the incredible amount of things that other people have to do for me, I realize this so acutely.

I am not sure what overwhelms me more: thinking all these things I am scared of will happen? Or the fact that things that I can do might not get done, because I have too many of them to do?

Just to give you an idea of what I do in a given day lately: the alarm goes off at 6 AM. I hit the snooze button for at least an hour; I get up at 7:15 or so. Sometimes later. I shower. I dress. I make up my bed “fancy”, since the house is on the market, and it has to look like no one lives here (really, people, who are you kiddin’??). I then clean out my bathroom: fold my towels just so (again, like no one uses them – yeah, right), I put the toiletries away. Then, I climb downstairs. I feed cats. I make breakfast. I pack lunch. I scoop litter, and take the trash out. Every morning. Then, I jump in the car around 8:30-9:00 – already late. Every morning.

Then, work. With all its chores: meetings, documentation updating, answer emails, make sure all you know is in some folder so someone can find it. When I am not there. Being everyone’s spare brain is not easy, ya know! Lunch is always a working lunch: either working at my desk, or running an errand for what I have to do: meeting with the wedding planner, picking up the wedding dress, buying litter for the house, buying groceries or supplies to clean up the patio, vacuuming the car, cleaning the trunk, installing a baby seat in the car, doctor’s appointments, picking up prescriptions. What have you.

Then work, again. Errands again, after work: meet with realtor. Or go home, crate the cats, since I’ll have a showing. Cook dinner, at some point. Somewhere in there, watch what I eat: I can’t possibly allow myself to gain another pound, and there is no time for walking anymore!

Email mom and friends to let them know I am alive. My emails to them are shorter and shorter every day. Got no time for long ones. Then, clean the house some more, of kitty hair and throw up, from over the day. Go to bed around 11 or 12, and try as hard as it may be, to read at least ONE page in a book. One page. Just to pretend I disconnected and I gave my brain a break that day. It doesn’t work. I fall sleep in the first 3 minutes of “reading”.

These are the chores.

For the things I cannot control and which keep me up at night, right after the first 30 minutes of fast asleep-ness… are way more than those… I always worry the people who will see my house will let the cats out, if they don’t call to make an appointment and they come in without me crating them first. They will let at least one, the friendliest of all, out. And I will be devastated if I lost him/ them. I feel like I constantly have my front door wide open, since they put a key in the lockbox for the showings, and anyone can help themselves to my cats, house, everything. Communism instilled paranoia goes a loooong way, let me tell you.

I fear the house will never sell, because of this crappy market, and we will end up paying the mortgage on this big monster for 2-3-5 years. We will be poor and he will hate me for my debt! People get over buyer’s remorse when buying a house or a car in a couple of months. Three years since I bought this – I never went over mine. And now the painful feeling of being “stuck with it” has to be shared with this other wonderful and innocent human being that accepted me in their life! Guilt. Lots of it!

I fear, I will crate the cats, but then they will go crazy, because they really don’t like to be crated, as free as they always are.

I fear that when we drive across country with them for 4 days, they will pant and get crazy in the brain in the crates, and I will have to put them to sleep if they never recover. I fear silly things like these, all the time.

I fear I will kill them one time, by forcing them to enter the crates, although I have had vets teach me how to do it properly, with minimal to zero discomfort to them. But I love them too much, anything “against their will” hurts me.

I try making the crates fun: I sprinkle cat nip and try to hide toys in there, hoping they’ll like it. They look dubious! And I feel, once more, guilty.

I fear everyone will arrive for the wedding (because everyone but me is flying in, and no one from a drivable distance, really!) one or two days late, and all our schedule for the wedding week will be shot. I fear my future husband will be late, again, coming into town, and we will not have time to get a marriage license … I feared till yesterday that they’ll burn my dress at the alterations place and where am I going to find a beautiful dress that fits me again?? Well, they didn’t burn it. In fact, it turned out beautifully, and I am so tickled to have it in my possession now, all fit and ready to go!

I fear (still) that my nephew will get very sick again, and my sister will not be able to make it to the wedding. But, alas, she has plane tickets now, and she at least has that “insurance” for my troubled psyche …And he has felt so much better lately, bless his heart!

I am a constant knot of emotions, thoughts and fears. I sound like a crazy person, I know … And this is, like I said, the beginning. And these are all things that will get sorted out with time, patience and a clear mind. But alas, I do not have time for clarity right now. Just for shear panic, it seems.

I needed to at least lay them down on paper, and let them fly into the world, so they will leave my brain and heavy chest.

With all this running around during the day and being awake with nutty thoughts at night, I have grown to enjoy even the little bit of waiting at the traffic light! Even the wait in a doctor’s waiting room, which normally grinds my nerves. I don’t even read there anymore. I can’t. My brain is on overload. I need to let it just rest. Just be. Just have no purpose at all for a minute. Or two. I enjoy waiting lately – and I don’t even recognize myself as typing this!

Did you hear what they’ve been doing in New York City now ? They have blocked off streets in Times Square – yes, as in the busiest, most crowded and happening square possibly on the planet – closed down the traffic, and let people sit there on deck chairs. Just stop and sit on deck chairs - take a break during their crazy days: they have street artists, even yoga, and lots of nothing, but sitting and chatting, and being. The Budget Travel magazine editor ended her editorial about this wonderful initiative with “somewhere, there is a deck chair with your name on it”.

And ever since I read that, I keep praying that I’d find mine. For even just one second, I can block off “the traffic” which is now my life and just sit. And do nothing at all. But sit on a mental deck chair. I hope I find it soon, or else my “mental” knees will give out. And I do need a rest. The long road is just ahead!

Gypsy, making peace with the cat carrier - but not quite.

Life Is Good

Grateful for simple things, on a Sunday morning.

I have always dreamed about this. Since living in the communist flats for years, back home, crammed, and airless, sharing in smells of stopped up toilets, burst pipes, stray cat urine and moldy walls from the 100 close neighbors, my whole family dreamed of a time when we can sit outside, and have our coffee in the morning, in the fresh air, and just listen to the breeze, the birds and the city noises, and just recharge, and cleanse our souls.

I remember my parents visiting their friends who owned houses and backyards, and no matter how cold or rainy it was outside, they always wanted to sit on the patio, in the back, to have dinner. We all craved air. Wide, open, fresh, air. We wanted to feel the breeze and see the sky! We hated walls!

My parents own a huge house with a beautiful yard now, and unless it’s pouring outside, they spend about 90% of their home time in their yard and on their patio in the warm seasons. The craving for air never stopped with them. And they’ve worked all their lives to own a yard, more than to own a house, really!

I am saying this with torn happiness and melancholy in my heart, as I am sitting on my very own patio, in the shade, looking at my tomatoes, dill and roses, and sipping my coffee this morning. I hear birds, cicadas, lawn mowers, an occasional car, and planes …

I have privacy, fresh air, and an open space to call my own. It’s a dream come true, in home ownership! I am so fortunate: mom and dad waited till they were in their late 40’s to own a yard. I have had mine, in various incarnations, since I was in my mid 20’s!

And as much as I enjoy working in my yard, and seeing things grow, and eating a fresh fruit or two, that’s never been the reason why I wanted to have a yard! The reason was a yearning for freedom, mostly: to own a place where I can be outside, and listen to nature, and feel peaceful and simply content. A place close to home, where I can be part of something bigger than me, where I can just escape, and slow down, and take in the events of a week, and give myself a pep talk that life is not all that sour after all, where there are blue skies, and hours to kill, and cardinals perched on pickets, and cool, fresh, crisp smells of clean air. A place where time stands still and there is no rushing towards the next chore. A place where nature floods in. A place with no walls.

Life’s good, I tell you! I only wish mom and dad would be here to share this with me. I know, though, that no matter what physicality we’re in, we’re together in our hearts. After all, they have planted the dream of my own back yard deeply into my heart. It’s because of them that I love and understand this simple peace. And when I enjoy this, they’re with me. Forever.

Unwanted Party, Part II

With pictures this time …

As much as I hate heat, typically (I know, I live in the wrong state!), I hate a rainy summer more! I hate it when you want to hike or walk in the park, shoot butterflies and hibiscus plants, but you get a 50% chance of rain every single day of the week. And after a couple of weeks of this forecast being accurate, you pretty much give up: it’s in the forecast, you get the picture and tuck in for the night! It gets old!

Anyway, this is the type of summer we seem to be having so far. Quite the opposite of the one last year, when everything was dry, and draughty! And we could not even water our plants, because of the water shortage!

This year, my plants would look great, if it were not for all the slugs rain brings with it which eat them! I swear these gross (and to me totally useless) creatures must be made of water! The minute it rains, my patio is again full of them. The more it rains (like the recent flood we had only yesterday in Greensboro), the bigger and fatter and grosser they are!

For the curious folks before, who asked for pictures,
this is my latest visitor, in actual size. It was about twice as
thick as my pinkie. And, yes: that's a baby! Got chills? I do!

And yes, salt works (thanks C., and mom!), but rain washes off the salt! So, they’re … back!!! And I am about tired of the slimey visitors and their traces - left, right, up and down and every direction imaginable in the front of my home, and tired of looking at the puny looking pansies in the planters!

So, we’re going to plan B this weekend: time for a different plant, other than pansies! Anything in purple will do! We’ll experience another pest, I am sure, but at least the new one maybe won’t leave mucus traces all over the patio!

If they are indeed made of water, and more rain will make more of these things … maybe they’ll show up where they won’t have anything yummy to eat, like purple pansies! Maybe on someone else’s patio that provides that meal. There is no sin in hoping, anyway!