Remodelling a home...something only crazy people do

Now, most people do not go into remodelling a home with anything but the most positive of attitudes.  That is not to say that they are that way when it is in progress, or when done.  Everything is started with open and good intentions.  But, somewhere along the way, things change....

It started out as a good idea.  Lets just do some remodelling of the kitchen.  This is something that I had been wanting to do for over 7 years now.  Level the sitting area.  Change the layout of the cabinets and move the fridge.   Good ideas, or so I thought.

The day started out with the best of intentions.   Up came the old carpet and then the linoleum.  Hubby came home to find that most of the floor was missing.  WOW was his first word.  What happened?  I got fed up with everything rolling to the outside wall when dropped.  I decided that we are going to fix this blasted floor once and for all, and while were at it, lets fix the kitchen too.  That's how it started.  That was over two months ago, and this week I got fed up.  Now or never.

I got up on Tuesday and took out the first cabinet, then the lower four drawer cabinet, then the seven foot cabinet at the end of the counter.  I had measured before starting to make sure that the three door fridge would fit in the open space once the cabinets had been removed.  Yes..... Now to move the fridge.  A little harder than I had expected, but doable.  It fit perfect.  Now all I needed was a small one foot cabinet to put between the fridge and stove.....

Off to the building supply house to find what I needed. 

Now as luck would have it, my husband had always shown me what he called the scratch and dent isle of the store.  We had made a point of going to that area every time we went, to check out what was on sale.  As luck would have it today, I came across a one foot special order cabinet with self closing door and drawer for a significantly reduced price.  Someone had decided not to buy this gem and had left it for me to find.  It was perfect, all I needed to do was paint it.  What a find.  Now off to the wood isle to find the wains coat for the east wall.  All my stars were in line today, I found all I needed.  Out to the car with my purchases.... Oh no, forgot my cabinet.... back in the store, looking like a fool.  Out to the car with my prize....

At home unloading the items was not as much fun.  Dogs under foot made it hard to get things in the house.  The cabinet fit perfect with a little jimmying of the fridge.  It slid in like it was made for the space. 

Now, what to do with the seven foot cabinet.  Move it from the middle of the kitchen floor.  Out to the back door area.  First to move it, the bench had to go.  So out the bench went to the laundry room.  Wow, did not know it weighed that much.  Push, pull, shove, my arms were like jello.  Got it all done.  Now for the cabinet.  It was easy to move to the back doorway.  Now to get it out into the back hallway I had to tip it onto its back.  Easy.  Done.  Slide the cabinet out the door.  Easy.  Down the step, not so easy.... Clunk... OOppsss came down a little harder than I thought.... Oh dam.... It's slipping.... Look out... Down it fell.... Now it is jammed in the laundry room doorway and I cannot move it.

On the phone to my wonderful husband, all he could say was, "if no one moves, nothing gets broken, bent or hurt".  He came home about an hour later and proceeded to crawl in through the garage door.  It was impossible to get in through the laundry room door.  The cabinet was jammed in the doorway so well, it took both of us to lift it out.  Lift, push, tip it on its footing, straighten it up.  There, now up against the wall.  Good, it fits perfectly.   Now to fill it up again with useless stuff that we don't need to keep anyway.   Off to work.

Upon arrival home this morning, I came through the back door to find the new sub floor finished and the old partition gone.  The kitchen is starting to look the way I had envisioned it.  Open, airy, and non cluttered.  I can't wait till its finished.  More moving and shuffling of items to take place this week.. Won't be long now.  I can see it all coming together.  I hope we both survive to see the end result.  I have come to the realization that remodelling is something only crazy people do, and I am about as crazy as they come.

The Graduation of 1971

Do you remember your graduation?  Is it something that is fresh in your mind?  Is there parts of it that no matter how hard you try, you just cannot forget?  Parts that no matter how hard you try, you can't remember?  What a time in someones life.  It is suppose to be a time for fun and partying before the great trek into real life and the job world that continues till you retire or die trying.   My graduation was one for the record books!!!

Grad was on every one's mind.  There is the ceremony on Friday.  Then comes the dance Saturday and after parties.  Then the post grad party breakfast. Then there is the Sunday fun...... OMG what a weekend..

Everything starts with all the girl going to find just the right dress.  This is something that I have come to look at as nothing more than a futile effort to out do the other guy.  Something that is suppose to be so fun, turns into something that we have been taught not to do, for our whole lives.  Who has the best dress, shoes, hair, car etc. etc. etc.   Money out the window for things that will be worn for a matter of hours, then tossed into a trunk, bag or given to charity.  God forbid anyone should ever see that same dress on anyone else, or on you again.   These days, it is even worse, because now the dresses cost you a mortgage payment and then some. 

My dress was fairly simple.  Brown velvet bodice with off white crepe skirt, simple and very elegant.  It made me happy and that is what counted.   Off to the ceremony, Grand March and then the dance.  All the parents are sitting in the bleachers with a million cameras.  Stop, stand still, look this way then that.  My god, by the time you got to the "The Dance".  A place where parents are not allowed and the teachers stand guard, so you don't get to close to your partner.  If they only knew.  The dance is over and now comes the partyyyy......

We were lucky.  One of the students, who was also a friend, had a father who owned the drive-in-theater.... Now what a streak of luck.  The movie was over and now the fun began.  Movies all night.  Locked into the drive-in with a bunch of crazy grads and who knows how much beer.   Her dad opened the drive-in to the grads for the night and showed movies till dawn.  It was a great time.  There were parties all over town.  Some big, some not.  Everyone had a great time.  I think I finally staggered home around 4am, only to be dragged out of bed at 7am for the "morning after breakfast", which by some form of luck was at my house.
My wonderful Dad dragged my sorry butt out of bed to greet my guests.... Who's idea was this anyway.  I wanted to do nothing more than sleep.
Oh my head hurt.  Sitting on the fence post of the yards only gate, I welcomed each guest, with a finger pointing at the coffee and food (like any one of us was going to eat anything).  Throwing up, or not doing so was at the forefront of each of our thoughts.  So much fun the night before and then misery for the morning.  We had one or two of the kids that showed up walking around the outside of the lower lawn for so long, they actually wore a path in the grass. hahaha.  Bodies sleeping on the grass.  The coffee was a huge hit.  Toast and a bit of bacon were eaten, but I think of the 12 dozen eggs we had, only one or two dozen were used.  It was a good thought, but I don't think anyone really realized how bad everyone was going to feel.  There were lots of kids that showed up.  Some parents were there to help, but I think it was more to see if their kids were still alive.  What a night.  Now off to the barbecue at Kokanee Park...

Now, Kokanee Park is approx. 12 miles east of Nelson along a very winding road.  This can cause some problems for people who have been drinking and some that still were.  It can give you the feeling of motion sickness very easily.  The partiers were on the way. 

Everyone arrived at the park and began making their way down to the beach.  On the beach was a sight that few had seen previously.  Bodies of  kids everywhere.  Some sleeping, some groaning loudly and some just laying their holding their heads or sleeping.  Piles of beer bottles were everywhere.  I don't think I have ever seen that many beer bottles.  They were neatly stacked in pyramids intermittently down the beach.  Monday morning they would be stacked neatly all around the edge of the roof of the high school.  Someone knows how and who put them there.  I never did find out.

The barbecue was a ball.  Everyone showed up, including lots of family members.  The weekend was a raging  success.   No one died.  Only one person hurt... broken arm from falling off Hamilton's Mansion roof.   Funny only two of the grad students showed up for school on Monday.  I think the rest of us slept for most of the day... Anyway what a weekend to remember.   Everyone had fun.  Most will remember with fond memories, "The Graduation of 1971".

The Valley of Hope

To me, the Valley of Hope is a place that is far away from the place I call home right now.  It is a place that houses most of the rest of my family.  My sisters and I have become more connected than ever, due to face book and the Internet.  We speak daily, or at least try. Over the past few weeks, we have become disconnected, due to a move that took place.  My problem is figuring out where in the valley I can set up my tent and live out the rest of my life, happy and content.

Char is my baby sister and has had her life turned upside down by my niece.  The day finally came.  A wedding.  A wonderful celebration.  The two of them were off to shop.  The quintessential trip for mom and daughter to try and buy the perfect wedding dress.  Now this is normally a very happy occasion, and was this day as well, until the fact that Angie was trying on dresses for her wedding finally hit her.  Trouble breathing.  Overwhelmed.  She was a little taken aback by the whole ordeal.  Char, the great mom she is, calmed her and the fun continued.  I was lucky enough to reach Char before they left and asked that she take pictures of all the dresses.  I now have a folder in my email account that is Angie's dress choices.  I guess living vicariously through my sister is as close to the real thing as I will get.  The pictures are beautiful and she is going to be a gorgeous bride.

Down the road a mear three hours, is my other sister Debbie.  She and her husband have left the metropolis of Vancouver to settle in the small Hamlet of Oliver.  They closed their store in Vancouver, to open another in the small town of Penticton.  I am hoping that the people of Penticton see the talent that Debbie has, like the patrons she had in Vancouver did.  They sold their house and have bought a large plot of land with grape vines and an orchard, where they are planning on building a house and retiring at some time in the future.  I am looking forward to seeing this place.  If what they have built in the past is anything like what they have planned for this piece of land, it will be phenominal and gorgeous.   I can't wait to see it. 

My brother lives about half way between the both of them.  He and his wife and two small boys live in the town of Westbank.  Robin is an accountant and at this time is taking time off to care for the boys till they start school.  Shawn is a truck driver, with a dedicated route between his home and Vancouver.  That gives him time to spend with his family. 

Now the problem is, where do I live?   I live 2000 miles away in the middle of the states.  No family to speak of in the area.  My husband has two of his children living here, but none of my immediate family are anywhere close.  I miss the craziness of my family and the fun that we have had over the years.   I can remember things from my childhood, that would have driven others crazy and made them very upset, but in my family you deal with those things and go on.  It is hard not having someone that you can run to with questions and problems.  We have all been very close and have mostly remained that way.  We drifted apart for a time, and we still are not that close with my brother right now, but that is mostly due to work and family constraints.  All of us miss him dearly.  Oh ya, and bull headedness runs deep in our family.  We don't forgive easily. 

My years are climbing and the things that used to mean so much, have diminished with time.  The things that were so important are not anymore.  Family and friends are now at the top of the list.  I found that without those particular people, life does not mean much.  If you have a rift between you and family, do whatever it takes to rid yourself of the rift.  You cannot replace family no matter how hard you try.   They may get under your skin.  They may make you crazy, but there is no one like someone that is a part of you and your past.  I love all of my family, but would not give up my brother and sisters for anything.  They mean the world to me.  I wish we were closer, but until we are, I will tell them at every chance just how much they mean to me.  I love you and will forever and always.

Brain dead and bullet proof

What is it about the teen years?  Is there something in a book somewhere that says that teenagers are suppose to be brain dead and bullet proof?  I have often wondered why it is they think they can get away with some of the things they try!  Is there any rhyme or reason for the things they do?  Is there a reason that they have to follow even the stupidist of friends down the path that leads to something that can cost them their lives.

I am the proud mom of six, count them six kids.  Five boys and a girl.  Now over the years each and everyone of they has done something that, as a mother, has made me proud(sarcasm).  It has been everything to rolling trucks down hills sideways to getting arrested for stupid petty things.  I have over the years though, decided that if they get arrested, they are going to spend the night if not longer in the county clink.  The fear of sitting in jail, was usually not as scarey as calling MOM and telling me where they were. 

Now my kids may tell you that they are scared of me.  This is something I pride myself on.  It is not to say that they could not come to me for just about anything, but a little unadulterated fear does not hurt anyone, especially if it keeps them from doing something industrial strength stupid, like this last incident that has happened. 

I got a phone call from someone that I had not heard from in a long time, my ex-daughter-in-law.  I was given information that sent a wave of panic into my soul, the likes of nothing that had ever happened to me before.  You see in our family, we have had the angels watching over us.  Not a child has been lost, to date.  This was not going to be the first.  

The phone call came with the following information.  Your grandson is in ICU, intubated.  Now to a lay person, this means the person is sick and in a place where they can be taken care of,  because they are really sick.  To a nurse, it is a whole nother story.  ICU and intubated means the child is so sick he is not able to breath on his own, has had a trauma so bad that the brain is not working, or even worse, the child may die if not treated quickly. 

My mind began to reel.  All the terror came pouring out.  To have to sit and wait for information is one of the worst things to have happen to anyone.   Ok more information.  Drugs, alcohol, found unresponsive in room.  Now there was more information available.  In a way it was good, but then the more information a nurse has, the more things they can imagine can go wrong.  A bit of good information, he was extubated.  The foley is being removed.  Good information to have.  Now to find out what the next step is.  More tests, and then home if all the results are good.  He was lucky, THIS TIME.  I hope there is no NEXT TIME.

The phone call this morning was not one that was pleasant.  I was given the number to the hospital.  Funny, he did not seem happy to hear my voice.  I tried to encourage the truth, but kept running into inconsistencies throughout the conversations.  We spoke for a long time, me explaining things to him and him trying to justify the things he did.  It is hard to get angry with the person you thought might die.  The anger I have now is towards the people who were part of this fool hardy idea that led him to this point. 

You try for most of your life to instill moral codes in your children so they can pass them on to their children.  Then something like this happens and all you do is blame yourself for the things you did not do.

I am here to tell you that, no matter how hard you try to make your children into people who do the right things, there will always be others out there leading them in the opposite direction.  You can only do what you can do.  You give it all you have and then sit back and hope for the best.

Oh no my tongue

When you were a kid, did you remember bundling up to go out and play in the snow?  Running through the snow and making snow angels?  Playing outside in the snow until your fingers and toes felt frozen?  Have you ever been in an area that was so cold that if you touched metal your fingers would stick to it? 

We were raised in Saskatchewan, Canada.  The middle of the prairies is nothing if not fridgid in the winter.  The wind blows all the time and chills you to the bone.  When I say chills you to the bone I mean it.  I can remember a day walking home from school.  I got to the bottom of the hill that led to our house and was met by my mom or dad, I'm not sure.  When they saw me, I had my coat flapping in the wind that whipped through the valley, and my nose had been running and had frozen to my cheek and chin.  All I can remember is being scooped up and taken home and warmed up.  No one was happy about how I was dressed when I left the school for the long walk(about 5 or 6 blocks)home.  I am sure that there was some words said to the teacher about it.  No one ever said anything to me though.

I lived in a place that was so cold in the winter, you spent a lot of time inside, but kids will only take so much inside time.   When you did go out, you bundled up so much, the most you could see on a kid was their eyes.  We would often go to grandma's house to visit, and she lived less than half a block from a small park with swings, monkey bars and teeter totters.  It was fun to spend time crawling all over the equipment.  During the Spring, Summer and Fall we would spend hours in the park playing.  It was not as much fun in the winter when the metal became very cold and would stick to your gloves when wet.  Leaving a boot in the snow or a glove stuck to the monkey bars now and then was not bad, but it was a totally different story when it came to skin. 

I can remember the day that we were playing in the park and someone, in their infinite wisdom decided to dare us to stick our tongues on the monkey bars.  Now most kids were smart enough to say no way.  We on the other hand, had never done this before and thought it would be cool to feel the frigid cold of the metal.  Now I can't remember which one of us was the stupid one, but I do remember the yelling that blasted through the air, when the tongue stuck and would not let go.  Pulling ensued.  Pain and screaming began.  Off we ran to get Mom.

Yelling and screaming hysterical little girls running at you is enough to throw anyone off their game.   Mom was beside herself.  Getting two little girls to stop screaming and calm down enough to get them to tell you what had happened was hard to do.  Finally she realized what was trying to be said.  She got a kettle and filled it with hot water and started out for the park.  Here to her surprise was a little girl with her tongue firmly placed on the metal rung of the monkey bars.  Out of the kettle came the hot water as she poured it slowly over the bar and the tongue of the crying child.  After a few seconds of warmth, the tongue let go and then the real crying began.  Scooped up in mom's arms and carried back to grama's was a crying and very scared little girl.

Now I have a great memory for things that have happened in my life, but for the life of me I cannot remember who it was that stuck their tongue on the monkey bars.  I think it was my sister Deb.  Deb says it was me, and both of us after talking think that maybe it was Char, more because we could usually talk her into doing just about anything.  She is the youngest of us and usually the easiest to get to do things, or at least back then.  Over the years, we have talked each other into and out of a lot of things, but I will never forget that day.  The day the tongue got stuck to the monkey bars.