What I Want

It seems there are a lot of people making a lot of fuss about what they want. Apparently, the cool kids are making arts and crafts signs and hoisting decidedly high-tech firearms when they march.

I’m going to try their method, without the madness…

I WANT wake up in the morning and not hear a death toll on the morning radio broadcast before I open my eyes.

I WANT to stop wearing a mask. I’m actually claustrophobic and it adds another layer (pun intended) of stress to grocery shopping. On a related note…

I WANT people to stop looking at me when I sneeze or cough while wearing said mask because I. HAVE. SEASONAL. ALLERGIES.

I WANT to stop my mind from wondering if it’s more than seasonal allergies.

I WANT to make plans; like grocery shopping when I want to grocery shop.

I WANT to eat out. I’ve told The Big Guy that I’m racking up the IOUs for Friday night dinners.

I WANT to stop washing my hands, and/or sanitizing them every 6 minutes, 3 if I forget which order I grabbed the grocery cart handle and my keys.

I WANT to see my chiropractor and massage therapist because my back is so back that if you look at me sideways, you’ll give me a headache. Serious, I can sneeze and put my back out – which is bit of an issue with the whole seasonal allergies piece.

I WANT to stop thinking about how my family and I would quarantine if one of us contracted COVID-19.

I WANT to know that I have a summer, or a the very least, August.

I WANT to stop reading horrific articles that I know I need to read to keep me aware of the evolution of this pandemic.

I WANT to get my hair cut. Which leads to the most important thing that I WANT….

I WANT TO SEE MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS!

But none of this matters if people are getting sick; if people are dying. What I want isn’t important if others are risking their safety – their LIVES – to battle for us. I don’t get to put my needs or rather WANTS ahead of anyone else. That’s not how it works.

You think your restaurant should be open so you can sit at your favourite table? You want to be able to go to a ball game or a concert? How about we let our medical professionals get a grip on this and learn as much as they can so we can all get back to our jobs, businesses, families and LIVES?

…if we are sharing what we really want…

 

 

Normal is a Setting On a Dryer

“Normal is a setting on a dryer,” said a friend of my many moons ago. Like most things Doug told me, it was very true, and oh so wise. It means there is no normal in real life and what is “normal” for me is definitely not “normal” for you. “Normal” is a setting on a dryer.

I think about “normal” a lot right now. I had to go to the grocery store today and “normal” is wearing gloves, wiping down my purchases and stripping down in the garage before putting all my clothes and jacket in the washing machine. Then I shower. I wonder if this time was the opportunity for exposure. I dry off and clean the knobs on all the doors I touched getting into the house. The family is great at helping me, ferrying the sanitized products into the kitchen from the work station I set up in the back of the Jeep in the garage.

THIS is now normal. After three weeks, I don’t even have to call them, they come to the garage when they hear me pull in.

Normal is having my family on the same property 99% of the time. Since I last posted, First Born Son opted to take a leave from work, followed by a couple of weeks of holidays. He is responsible for his new cow and calves so he leaves to do chores twice a day. The Big Guy and Second Born Son are working from home.

It wasn’t the easiest process to get the boys to understand what sacrifices they would have to make. There are girlfriends to consider and in spite of the fact that they are both charming, friendly and wonderful young women, now is not the time bounce from household to household. Eventually we had a “Come To Jesus” chat about social behaviours. They could be responsible or they could be lumped in with the hordes of irresponsible spring break-lovin’ youth plastered all over social media, who have subsequently come down with COVID-19.

Both of them were invited to decide where they wanted to stay to ride out this as-yet-undetermined-timeframe; here or at the boo’s house. They both opted to stay here, but I don’t for a minute think it was an easy decision for either of them. It’s a tough stage of life to have your wings clipped, 19-almost 20 and 22-almost 23. FBS has lived away from home pretty much since he left for college until he returned home last spring, but continued to function fairly independently. SBS is gearing up to head to college. You are independent or at least expect to embrace a level of independence. I was not a popular person for a couple of days, but ultimately they respected our position and have been reasonable in their frustrations – directed at fate rather than family.

Three of us are office-oriented in our work and share space whether it is in the downstairs office or in the upstairs dining room. Webinars, Zoom and teleconferences are juggled and managed to ensure privacy or simply peace and quiet.

Normal is stopping to watch the Prime Minister’s address each day, as well as the Premier’s . Oft times this messaging impacts one of our jobs so it’s worth the time to tune in.

Normal is also appreciating little things more. Things like a good night’s sleep, because we’ve been struggling with that, as so many people have. The other night SBS commented on how often we are together at the same time, usually for meals, and how nice that was. Normal is also trying to figure out how to put a meal together with random items left in the fridge when the full grocery list isn’t filled. Coleslaw with pancakes? You BETCHA!

Normal is the feeling of organization and accomplishment the past two weeks have given us. With beautiful weather, we have been able to get outside chores done much earlier this year.

Normal is jumping when the dogs bark as though someone is coming up the driveway. No one comes here. We miss that but we know it’s for the best. We don’t go anywhere either.

In the spirit of “the glass half full”, I’m getting AMAZING mileage on the Jeep; only used a quarter of a tank in three weeks!

Normal is Facetiming people I would usually see week to week. It’s nice to see a different face. There’s so much talk about what the world will look like when this is behind us. What will the “new normal” look like?

For now, normal is reminding ourselves just about every damn day that we live in an amazing country; that remarkable people are putting themselves out there to deal with this health crisis, and all they ask in return is that we stay at home. It’s the least we can do.

The VERY least.

 

 

 

 

 

To panic or not to panic.

If something goes sideways, I’ve been told I’m a good person to be around.

I consider this a compliment. I’ve been in a position to handle some rather difficult/frustrating/sensitive/confidential etc. situations and I feel I’ve handled them the best I could. The fact that I’ve been called a “rock” tells me that I may have done just that.

When it was suggested that I work from home last week, I was prepared and willing to do so. I am able to do some development and planning while I cannot be in the public. As with so many people, I’ve been trying to get my head around the various developments evolving sometimes hourly. I am usually a “glass half full” kinda person. I ensure my family has food, the house is clean, that everything feels “normal”.

But it’s not normal for anyone.

I’ve been frustrated with how people fail to take this situation seriously. I judge others as I judge myself, which is to say I assume people ingest their news from more than one (reputable) news outlet. I assume people check and see when a social media post is bullshit and don’t share it. I assume people want the greater good and will do what’s necessary to keep others safe.

You know what they say about assuming…..

I’m fortunate to have a supportive employer that values me and the work I do. So does the Big Guy. His employer is offer five-star support to staff, including paying people who only worked two days before a company-wide shutdown was implemented days before it was mandated by the Province.

Second Born Son works alone, so he was fine to leave home, but today his supervisor said he too could work from home. Now there’s three of us working in the house – the office and dining room are now work spaces. Cozy, and I’m glad I can keep them here with me.

If I didn’t already have grey hair, the work situation for First Born Son would have made me go grey. They are still working. There are no measures taken for 40+ people outside of posting hand washing instructions in a large common washroom. Supposedly there will be a shutdown tomorrow. Thanks to the Premier. Never thought I’d type those words! It’s sad to think a business owner could think so little of the people who work for him to disregard their health and wellbeing, and that of their families. Some employees don’t have an option to quit work as it means forgoing Employment Insurance.

I reach out to our senior friends and family. Some of them are very emotional and frightened to be isolated. Some are definitely less mentally stable. It’s a difficult time for everyone.

What I’m experiencing is no different than what everyone else is going through. We all have our own frames of reference, but the unknown, the “is it going to happen now…or now…or now?” is the same.  We all have health issues to deal with, family members who are struggling, children who are at risk, jobs that hang in the balance. I know people who are watching their dreams of being their own boss hit very troubled waters. Small businesses, so long overlooked as a major contributor to our economy, are suddenly valued and vulnerable.

I don’t like writing overly negative posts such as this one. I’m sorry that it’s heavy. I just feel that today, being “light” or “funny” isn’t authentic. Maybe tomorrow will be a day to find the humour in something. Perhaps I’ll find out some good news that will give me a more balanced perspective.

But for today; 1. because there’s nothing I can control, 2.  no one is in control, it feels like a lot.

Here’s to a better tomorrow.

Be well!

Happy Birthday – I can’t Afford a Present…

This handsome fella is seven years old today!

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He nearly didn’t make it!

Seriously.

(If you have a weak stomach, leave NOW!)

Cane decided to give us (Second Born Son & me) a collective heart attack last week. SBS notice he was not feeling well. Vomiting and diarrhea. He then noticed that there seemed to be something coming out of his derriere. The photo he emailed me showed approximately THREE FEET OF FINE ROPE.

THREE FEET.

OF ROPE.

3 FT.

I immediately forward the pictures to our vet’s office. Then I call them. I use my calmest voice to tell the lovely assistant that I NEED them to look at the email I sent RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW.

She puts me on hold. I can almost hear her eyes rolling. And then she gets back on the phone.

“Um, yah, we are going to need you to go to (the main clinic) as soon as you can. How soon can you be there?”

I’m standing outside my work which is 40 minutes away from home. Then I have to load up the dog, then I have to go the main clinic which is another 40 GOD-DAMN MINUTES IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!

I am about to set a land speed record.

On my way home, I get a call from the lovely young assistant. She tells me she has taken the initiative to put together two quotes; one for the initial x-rays and examination, another for emergency surgery, ” in case we have to make decisions quickly.”

This is code for, “this is bad.” She tells me the cost for the surgery will be between $3,000-$4,000. I’m wondering what the black market rate is for kidneys, cuz I don’t have that kinda cheddar laying around. Who does?? Don’t answer that.

Once I get home, I’m met by the dog. It’s as bad as I envisioned. I pull into the garage and run inside to change before loading the dog, rope and son into the pickup truck.

Upon my return I’m horrified to see the rope is completely gone. It’s now wrapped around the base of the tires of my vehicle. It was pulled out as Cane ran around the vehicle.

THERE’S SEVEN FEET OF ROPE.

SEVEN FEET.

7 FT.

OF ROPE.

BASICALLY TWICE AS MUCH AS THERE WAS BEFORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am thrilled, horrified, fascinated, horrified, and panicked in a matter of seconds. Call to vet clinic confirms we should still come over in case there is any rope left in him (JAY-ZUS HOW MUCH MORE COULD THIS BEAST HOLD??)

Over we go. He’s not happy. He doesn’t care there’s a truck ride happening.

At the office they complete the examination. Cane is doing so well. They decide to do the x-ray. There’s nothing inside, they don’t think… whaaaaaaat? There was damage. It shouldn’t be permanent. Shouldn’t.

“How did he get into the rope?” they ask.

I have no clue.

“What kind of rope do you think it is?”

It looks like baler twine. We don’t have baler twine. What are you suggesting????????

$400+ later, we take Cane home. He’s happier, calmer (thanks to the sedative) and laying down in the back seat.

SBS and I look at each other, amazed at how a regular Wednesday turns into a freakin’ reality show.

Suffice it to say, there’s no new chew toy for Cane this year. He chomped down 7 ft of rope, so I think he’s good.

Happy Birthday Cane!

 

 

Harry & Meghan…the response is the reason

Unless you are returning from the International Space Station, you will know that the British Royal Family is evolving. Notice I’m not using any negative connotations to describe this.

I have just listened to a brilliant speech Princess Harry has given at a Sentebale in London. He addresses the audience not as a Prince, or a Duke, but as Harry. He speaks from the heart about HIS decision, for HIS family. He reaffirms his family’s commitment to the Queen, the family and to the United Kingdom.

But enough’s enough. He’s tired of the attacks, the scrutiny, the pressure and the life laid out for him that he’s never asked for, or wanted. Footage of him from 10 years ago shows his cautious view of his role. Harry is more comfortable with people, not media. He’s very much the boy following his mother’s coffin and the man who will not let history repeat itself.

When the Crown failed to act in his and his family’s best interest, he forced their hand. As soon as he did, the cycle he hoped to escape from, circled around again. Meghan was the issue. She was trying to return to acting. William didn’t like her. Meghan and Kate were competitive. At best it’s exaggeration. At worst it’s all lies. Worse yet, it’s a family matter that is playing out in the public. The media who weaves this narrative is the benefactor and cause of this soap opera.

I feel badly for all of them. It’s a nightmare to watch, I cannot imagine what it’s like to live through.

Unlike some monarchy challenges, this one is being handled well now that they’ve been forced to deal with it. No public funding, no HRH, no senior royal duties. Participate in events where invited by the Queen. Review this new “normal” in a year.

It’s smart and it makes sense. The “Royal Family” cannot continue to grown and encompass each of the Queen’s four children and by extension, her grandchildren and great grandchildren. There are a couple more members who should look at this development and realize the with Will having an Heir, a spare and a spare spare, there is little need for cousins to be paid from the public purse. Beatrice & Eugenie, we’re looking at you.

I wish the best for this young family and hope that this year brings peace, compromise and path forward that will allow a balance between duty and free will.

Shame On Us

The adult outrage against Greta Thunberg prompts this column. I dedicate it to her.

Her recent “How Dare You” speech at the UN National Assembly didn’t just get applause, but ridicule. How DARE this 16-year-old GIRL speak in such a manner? Within days social media was poisoned with memes of her outraged visage overlaid with mocking words pointing out her age, gender, her Aspergers or her appearance.

Shame on us.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in an environment where caring for flora and fauna was something to be proud of. When I had a home of my own, I wanted pets and to care for plants. We recycled, composted and had a barn pail for food scraps that went to our family farm for barn cats. We had less garbage with two small children than families on our street with only two people in them. I still have a laundry line. On days when it’s not conducive to hang wash outside, I have drying racks I my laundry room. I have switched to environmentally responsive dish soap and laundry soap. I have reduced my single use plastics to the point that I have carried numerous purchases from the grocery store to my vehicle because I left my reusable bag in the back seat.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. I’ve made choices that didn’t put the environment first. I’m trying more and more every day. I think that’s what we all need to do – try harder.

Instead, grown adults are hurling insults at a child. Pointing the finger at Millennials. THEY are the ones who want new cell phones. THEY are the ones who are mass consumers. THEY should not be lecturing their elders about environmentalism because the older generation consumed milk out of glass bottles and diapered their babies in flannel nappies. Ok, I’ll concede that point…. But the kind of change needed isn’t limited to how we consume dairy products. It’s decades of abuse and neglect of resources that could only tolerate so much. Decades of cars with little if any emissions regulations. Decades of big businesses not being regulated for physical and air borne pollutants. Bucks before polar bears, right?

The semantics of “global warming” vs “climate change” makes me want to stab myself in the face. ToMAEto TomAto. Talk about fiddling while Rome is burning.

I did share a meme that listed a number of suggestions that people could try that would make a difference. Everything from laundry and shopping to reducing how much garbage we generate. Within hours I had a reply to this post.

“Some of these suggestions aren’t practical. JS (just saying)”

Really?!?

Fortunately I took a sober second thought and instead of ripping this “friend” a new one, I replied the common sense that was implied by the post.

“These are suggestions that we can draw from – even one or two can make a difference.”

DID I REALLY HAVE TO SAY THAT?

Yes. Yes I did.

Shame on US.

I get it. If you live in an apartment, you likely don’t have access to a laundry line. But you could pop up a drying rack. Just work with me here, ok?

Just try.

My Own Little Soap Opera

How does one explain one’s absence for half a year?

By being honest.

It’s been overwhelming.

<PAUSE> Yes, it’s early in the post for a “PAUSE”, but you need to know this is going to be long one, so take this moment to put on your seatbelt. Maybe a drink. And snacks. <PLAY>

Home reno. Work challenges. Physical challenges. Suffice it to say it all hit the fan at the beginning of August. Yes, I posted a lovely, if not sentimental entry on the 21st, but that, my friends, was Sarah cruising down the River Nile, De-nile if you will.

I do tend to be a “Glass half-full” kinda gal. I’ll power through a lot under the guise of ‘you can chose to be positive as easily as you choose to be negative.’ My theory was tested on August 3.

The Big Guy and I were heading out to pick up his aunt and uncle for ice cream in the Jeep. It was a lovely Friday evening. Our lactose laden dessert enjoyment was interrupted by a phone call from Second Born Son.

“I don’t want to ruin your visit with Aunt & Uncle,” he said, “and I don’t want you to panic (WHAT THA HELL?) but we have a ton of water coming into the basement right now.” he said.

Me – versed in the art of poker face, and trying desperately hard to not ask a million questions, calmly, and with a smile on my face, asked a couple of short, quick questions as I glided out of ear-shot of the family. I asked him to hold the fort and we’d be there ASAP.

“Oh, by the way, there’s no food here and I forgot to pick up something from work, so can you grab me a pizza for dinner,” he asked before resuming the bailing that was going on in our basement.

Yes, son. I can get you pizza. For the record “there’s no food here” means there’s nothing he WANTS to eat. I was not about to quibble. He was literally bailing out the basement.

With the serenity of Princess Grace, I drove the group back to the Aunt & Uncle’s house, then advised we couldn’t come in for the offered cup of coffee, because we had to get SBS’ pizza. As we rolled out of their line of sight, I updated TBG on the antics at the house. I then ordered pizza. It was ready as we rolled into town and we were back in our house within 10 minutes. It’s a 20 minute drive….but I digress.

We walked into the basement which looked like this…

2018-08-03 20.24.04What you see here is the carpet in our finished basement. It is saturated. On the left its the tarp on the massive storage hutch that is 10 feet long. It houses all of our photo albums, toys such as lego and board games. We don’t know it yet, but it’s saturated and will be tossed.

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This is but a sample of the buckets SBS had scattered throughout the room to catch the water that is coming though our finished ceiling. You can see how wet the carpet is – it’s only been 30 minutes.

2018-08-03 20.24.19This is one of two antique lights TBG has over his antique pool table. You can see the pool table in the lower half of the photo. He put the table cover, a quilt and industrial Saran Wrap on it to protect it. I teased him mercilessly about OCD. At this point, not only did I apologize for the razzing I put him through, but I also thanked him for doing so.

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Having run out of buckets, SBS thought quickly and started using coolers. More drips are coming through the ceiling.

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Here you can see the temporary wall that was put up to keep the finished basement from being overly impacted by the construction in the basement. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You can see the water marks coming through the ceiling tiles. Directly above the tiles is a trough that was cut in the floor upstairs. This was to allow trades to access wires, pipes from the kitchen that was being ripped apart, rather than taking down the basement ceiling. Cuz, you know, we didn’t want to take on another project.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Dude. You laugh or you cry.

What happened was that around 6 p.m. there was a microburst – strong winds along with  a lot of rain. Because our windows had not arrived yet (due four days later) the opening for the large windows at the south of the house allowed a boat load of water into the house via the main floor. The wind drove the water 20 feet into the house, which is where the trough was cut, which allowed the water to “rain” into the finished basement.

Good times.

2018-08-03 20.22.14Here you can see the trough in the foreground. This is roughly half way into our original dining room. The water goes another 7 feet past this mark.

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This is our three-sided gas fireplace. You can see the water inside the fireplace. For those who don’t know, there is not supposed to be water inside a gas fireplace. See, learned something new today!

Within days the insurance company sent round a restoration crew to assess the damage. Their testing determined that the entire basement was compromised by water and would have to be gutted and rebuilt. All of our belongings that were displaced from the main floor were stored in the basement. Mostly in cardboard boxes.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH…you get the idea.

We just got ourselves another major project kids!

The restoration company was then tasked with removing the wood paneling, carpet and insulation. We had already removed the belongings and pulled out anything that had to be junked. They needed to come back a second time because they didn’t think the cork lining in the ceiling need to come down.

BWAHAHAHA.

There is so much more to the dealings we had with this company, but the one take away I will share with you is this…

This is my front foyer. In my front foyer, which is dark forest green, there is now a large white crack. I can span it with my forefinger and my thumb. This is the result of a hammer hitting the backside of the PLASTER wall – the basement as it were. This is damage done by the “wrecking crew” who removed the cork ceiling on the second trip.

NOW we have a front entrance that needs to be fixed. And painted. I need things to stop sliding downhill. TBG, SBS and I are basically living in our laundry room, which doubles as a kitchen, pantry and office. We are starting to strongly dislike each other. It’s nothing personal, it’s what is expected to happen when you cram people into too small a space for too long a time. SBS, never a morning person – yes, he’s my son, resents the tradesmen who are usually up and working in his house before he’s up and conscious in the morning.

Eventually, we start seeing progress.

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There were other little hiccups, like when the tint we agreed to for the gross orange brick didn’t turn out the way we hoped on the first try…

2018-08-15 19.41.31

See the dark brown brick? Yeah. that’s NOT the color we picked.

We did get it corrected, eventually.

Then we got the appliances delivered. And the range was damaged. It’s now the end of September. We are working with insurance to address the basement, and it becomes clear that if we want to get this basement done the way we would like to be, we need to take out the gaudy fireplace.

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It took an entire day to get it out and cleaned out. An entire day with three guys working on it. First Born Son regretting coming home that weekend, I can tell ya!

Trying to be a cooperative person, I tell the tradesmen that the basement project will not be started right away, but will need to be done before Christmas. This is to give us the finished space we need to access Christmas decorations and to have another area for guests to move into, and use the pool table (which was not – miracle of miracles – damaged) as we are entertaining both families on two different occasions this year.

I clean. And everything gets dirty moments later. I clean again. TBG and I installed the floor that runs from the existing living room all the way into the new kitchen and dining room. Naturally we do this on the hottest weekend of the summer.

My kitchen is put off a week at a time. I finally reach my limit and tell the cabinet maker, that I need SOMETHING to look finished. I need to see SOME progress. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF DOOR HANDLES CAN WE FINISH SOMETHING???

He takes pity upon me and gets the installation set. It is a revelation. Slowly, things start getting better. We are able to move out of the laundry room. The workers aren’t coming every day any more so SBS is much happier. I have a dishwashers, so I’M much happier. TBG keeps paying bills.

Then, one magical day in November, it was done. The fireplace was activated and the range hood was installed. These were the final aspects of the upstairs project. We won’t take about the basement because even though there’s flooring and painted drywall, there’s so much more to do down there.

But upstairs is a dream….

I’m a little obsessed with the dining room table – a great find by TBG. It’s 14 ft long and 54 inches wide. It’s AMAZING. The light is a collection of bulbs distributed by a ladder that came from TBG’s farm. We learned over the holidays that is is more than 150 years old and was made by the same person who built the family’s barn. Such a treasure!

Now, as I sit in the living room, looking at the dining room, having made two relatively stress-free Christmas meals in the enlarged kitchen, I can say that it was worth it. The ground broke the first week of June and we were able to use all aspects of the kitchen by the end of November. Some things were more challenging than we expected, but we have been positive. You know you are doing well when the contractors tell you you are patient people! lol

It’s a thrill to be in this space. To see a dream realized. To enjoy the home the way you imagined it could be.

Thank you all for your patience. Here’s to 2019 – it will have to work hard to compare to 2018!

The Magic Number

Some clever bloke said, “the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” The same could be said about this renovation. While the concept of the addition/reno has been kicking around pretty much since we moved in eight years ago, the first step was last fall when I put pencil to paper and drafted the very rough sketch of what we/I envisioned; a larger space that would allow us to accurate our growing family and give us the sight lines to the back of the property that we desired.

The rudimentary drawing was then taken to a professional who made accurate renderings. The tweaked the aspects of my drawing that were impossible (a window underground anyone?) and ensured the dream we dreamed was possible within the building code.

Once we had the blueprints, it was time to get prices to see if it was even financially feasible. Off to find general contractors to quote on the project. We held off until January because, you know, Christmas.

With a sense of anticipate that can only come with a New Year and a completely unrealistic expectation of what is possible, we started booking appointments with contractors.

The Good News: We had interest from general contractors.

The Bad News: They promised to get us pricing, AFTER they took off the month of February.

Yes, February is not a good month to pin down quotes. We are learning many things with this process, but the first, and biggest lesson so far has been this…

  1. THOU SHALL NOT EXPECT ANYTHING FROM A CONTRACTOR IN THE SECOND MONTH OF THE YEAR. FEBRUARY IS SACRED AND CUSTOMERS SHALL NOT BUT KEEP IT HOLY.

Finally we heard back from the contractors and they were asking bizarre questions like; “How much do you want us to allot for the kitchen?”

Whoa! This is a chicken-egg situation here. Do you set a budget when you don’t know how much you can afford? Or do you figure out what you can afford then set the budget?

We headed out on a Saturday with kitchen manufacturers. We were beginning to notice a disturbing pattern.

Admiring a granite countertop that we were interested in: $5,000.

Upgrades from the “standard” kitchen display: $5,000.

Sinks and taps combos: $5,000.

Appliances: $5,000.

Whaaaaaat? DA HECK?! We are tossing around 5K like it’s $20 bills! Yikes.

2018-04-08 11.51.42

Now, I realize that we are used to cupboards of cardboard construction, however, we don’t want to go economy on this project. That being said, we don’t want to have to sell a kidney to afford this either.

We’re not sure either of us has a kidney worth $5,000.

The quotes finally come in. Like the Three Bears, we had a price that was too high, a price that was too low (yes, it’s possible), and one that was just right! Fortunately, the “winner” is also a great guy. I think we’ll be able to work well with him and he’s already come through with some great ideas.

It’s the end of April at this point.

With this crucial part of the process locked in, we started looking around and realized, we have a TON of work to do before the first week of June target for the project to start. We have rooms to pack, a deck to remove, bricks to take off and plants to transplant.

This is when Mother Nature joins the party.

She shows up uninvited the second last weekend in April and brings with it a snow storm the likes of which none of us can remember happening in Spring.

Then there was the windstorm the first weekend of May.

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This brute brought winds up to 110 km/hr. The barbecue was tossed across the lawn, but, for some reason, the deck was unfazed – which is remarkable, because when we finally removed it last weekend, we learned that the deck wasn’t actually attached to the house. It was more or less sitting on a header which was supported from the ground by vertical posts that were rotten at ground level.

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See something off with this photo? I’m sure the perpendicular support REALLY helped the deck.

Yup – whether or not we did this project, that deck was a death trap.

So – here’s where we stand for those of you keeping score at home:

  1. no deck
  2. ripped apart dining room
  3. half packed kitchen
  4. no flooring in the living room.

Thank goodness we have a long weekend coming up, because the next item on the “to do” list is the brick removal. If you don’t hear from me in a week – send out the rescue team!

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Clean up in Aisle Five!

One of the more mundane life jobs that I really don’t mind, is doing laundry. I love the feeling of accomplishment when the piles of clean, folded laundry are before me.

The same cannot be said for grocery shopping. Trying to figure out what we need for the coming week. Trying to figure out what I’m going to feel like cooking four days from now. Trying to spend less than $300 a week, which is only possible while First Born Son is away at work. LOVE YOU SON!

Then there is the experience of acquiring the groceries. There’s the hauling of the empty bins and bags so that I’m environmentally responsible. Next, I have to make my way through a sea of humanity to vie for the same bundle of green onions as the person beside me. I shop at two stores; one that packs my groceries for me – and I only go to trusted cashiers who won’t demolish my bananas, and another where you are forced through like cattle in a chute and need to bag your own groceries with speed and dexterity that is best demonstrated on Survivor.

Grocery shopping brings out the worst in people, myself included.  Thoughtless individuals leave their carts unattended in front of a display of discounted canned soup, while doubling back 20 feet to find the crackers they passed by.  I’ve witnessed kids trying to shoplift, couples have full-blown domestics and countless meltdowns – and they weren’t all from children.

The checkout process is just as painful. Customers who ring through all their purchases and then realize they forgot their wallets at home are the BEST. A close second are those who clip coupons. There’s a special place in hell for them.

One of my part time jobs as teen was working in a grocery store, so perhaps I’ve carried over some latent issues from the 80s. Forgive me.

But by far, my favourite grocery store tale was just a couple of weeks ago. There I was, minding my own business, about half done the weekly torture session that is grocery shopping. As I approached the end of the aisle, I noticed a staff member chatting with a customer who has a small child in a grocery cart. They appeared to know each other, and immediately I constructed a plan to get around them without hitting them.

The customer turned toward me as she sensed me drawing near.

“HOLY FUCK!”  she yells. YELLS.

<PAUSE> For those of you with delicate constitutions, this blog post features the word “fuck”, which is not part of my personal vocabulary because I don’t like saying it, but apparently I have no issuing writing it. Conduct yourself accordingly. <PLAY>

In the nanosecond that she yells this, I engage the Fight or Flight reflex. I must be a heartbeat away from a tragic canned fruit stoning. Perhaps there’s a tsunami of 2% milk bearing down on me?! I actually flinch and glance over my shoulder.

“YOUR HAIR IS FUCKING AWESOME!”

<PAUSE> Knowing that I don’t use this word with any kind of regularity, I do find it interesting to see how it is employed by those who do. On the very rare occasion that I have used this word, it has been during extreme duress with the utmost urgency. Not that that’s an excuse, Mom.<PLAY>

I’m in shock that this woman is offering this kind of language a) in the public place, b) with a child within earshot, c) about something as innocuous as HAIR.

I do what I do best when faced with public embarrassment; pretend like everything is normal.

“Oh, thanks!” I offer, trying to negotiate between her hind end and the industrial shelving that offers every kind of cake mix known to man.

“No, really! I love the colour! And it looks so…” she gestures wildly around her head. “I wish I could wear my hair like that. FUCKING AWESOME!”

I smile and squeeze through the narrow channel, pointing my cart to freedom. The customer turns back to her employee friend and continues to extol the virtue of my truly exceptional coiffure.

For the record, this is what the fuss was all about…

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…and I can give you the name of my hairdresser so you can have FUCKING AWESOME hair too.

BTW – I now wear a peaked cap to the grocery store.

If You Don’t Laugh, You Cry

So apparently that last post got some people worked up!

Good.

To be fair, within half an hour, I heard from two male friends who expressed, a) horror that this had happened to me, b) support. Within a week I had much more support from both male and female readers. I completely understand why commenting on the post itself was not something they were comfortable with. It’s an uncomfortable topic, and for some, it was triggering. I feel for anyone who has gone through this as well. It’s not a fun club to be part of.

However, anyone who knows me knows I don’t do “victim” well. Never have. That doesn’t mean that I was born as a jaded little scrapper, it means that when faced with adversity/negativity, I tend to look for solutions or positivity. I have coworkers who are annoyed with my “glass half full” outlook. It means when life tees up my order of lemons, I’m looking how to deal with all that lemonade. Didn’t get the job? Wasn’t meant for me. Don’t have an overflowing bank account? I’ve got a great marriage, family and solid health. Think that’s schmaltzy? Ask someone who is sick how awesome being healthy is. “Getting through” is a powerful life skill.

I have also been reassured by some readers that there are still “good guys” out there. Yup. There are. Now those good guys need to get their back up when they see this happening. Don’t just be embarrassed for the woman. Don’t feel ashamed because a member of your gender has made it tough for the rest of you by looking like an asshole. Stand up and speak up. You have mothers, sisters, girlfriends, wives, daughters, granddaughters – again, I would suggest at some point in their lives, they too have had to deal with this. They just don’t post it on a blog. Ask them. Support them. Don’t question their actions, reactions or even their desire not to talk about it. That’s their Right. It doesn’t make them less brave for not sharing. They are brave for enduring it and continuing to live their lives as broken, glued together women. Sometimes it makes you stronger. Sometimes it doesn’t.

I have two mottos for my life: The Best Revenge Is To Live Well; and If You Don’t Laugh You’ll Cry. I’m still the same person I was two weeks ago. I don’t live this in my day to day existence. I will continue to have a bent sense of humor, and say things that might be painful in their truth, but I’m not going to a victim and I’m not to look the other way.

If my last post bothered you, then I hope you’ll do the same.

…and I promise the next post will be a little lighter…