No Time

I have 15 minutes to write. Not a whole lot of time. Not a whole lot of inclination, either.

Truthfully, I'm choosing a long walk over a long post. Don't have to, but want to - a particularly violent bout of stomach flu left me feverish and weakened for days. One of the reasons I was so itchy on Monday, I think, is that I was starting to feel ... reasonably well, but since I hadn't exercised in days, I was pretty grumpy. Only once have I been out (except for work and errands), and that day was so frigid I took a shorter route. I had every intention to walk yesterday, but my DVD recorder blowed up and I raced all over town and internet to find a replacement. I failed. I will try to find a machine today, after the lunch date with my friend, after the shower, and definitely after the walk.

I still have much filing to do, much demolition/renovation to do, and much teaching to do before next week, and I definitely need some outside time. But after my post last time, I want to tell you one thing - I cannot recommend highly enough (again) the Sarah Susanka books, and most especially the one that seems to written just for me and my small, boxy ranch: Home By Design: Inspiration For Transforming House into Home. I have learned more about design this week than I'd ever, in my whole life, even thought to ask about. I don't know if I have the talent to put any of it to use, but I'm going to try, and soon.

For now, though, gotta walk. The Big Lug needs me sane.

A Time to Prepare

Winter. A time for the Earth to rest, to gather its energy for spring's dramatic entrance into the continual cycle of birth, growth, decline, death ... and rebirth. Winter. The ashes of the Phoenix, from whence all things arise. Winter.

Sucks.

I can't paint - the house is closed up tight and even the low-VOC stuff stinks. I can't garden - I like my fingertips (and nose tip and toe tips) just the way they are, thank you very much. I can't even go for long walks very often - and the first person who says "treadmill" I will have to punch. I could sledge-hammer walls or tear out the old, old plumbing, but then I'd have none, and I doubt if the Big Lug would like a see-through house.

In the absence of destruction, I need something to build. Anything. I've planned (garden, layout, projects) and I've prepared (raspberries on that good day, clearing space, boxing things up) and I've organized (tax files, cookbooks and magazines, schedules) and I've read about going green, best-value renovations, and more how-tos and tips than I either knew or cared existed. Until I can do something with it all, it's just churning beneath the surface like magma, ready to erupt.

And yet it's winter. All I can do is read, and plan, and organize, and sort. I know it's necessary, really I do. But it's time to burst already.

I wonder if my cherry tree feels this way, all itchy and anxious after getting the hint of warmth then the frigid blasts. I wonder if she's poised on her metaphorical toes, as I am, waiting for that stupid starter's pistol to finally, finally crack. I know she puts on an amazing - and seemingly instantaneous - show every spring. Yet she doesn't have to figure it out, or sort through all potential leaf-and-petal formations, or even exercise her branches so she doesn't throw anything out of whack. She just ... becomes what she truly is.

I almost envy that kind of simplicity, that kind of certainty.

Don't you?

The First Time

When I was a kid, I was fearless (I, and about six boys from grade school, have the scars to prove it). As I grew, the pain started to filter through, sending a Bat-signal to my brain that called rationality and "grown up" to the forefront. Seems like a good thing, right? But is it?

The first time we do anything is new territory. Because of our childhoods, because we all have some version of the warning siren in our heads, the first hint of pain sends us scrambling. And it doesn't have to be physical pain - I'm the Empress of allowing emotional (pride) pain end something before it's even begun (pefectionist, hello). Even if I make it past the first physical or emotional hurdle, if any hint of the beacon sounds I run like the girl I am.
Not lately, though. Oh, I dithered, procrastinated, and excused (my usual avoidance-dance), but the last few weeks have seen ... completions - in plural.

I'm stunned. This year's theme, "house to home (for almost free)" was one I just knew was doomed before I began. And yet ... I still put the raspberries on The List, and though it took three days of one-to-two-hour-shifts (my hands) and much whining, I not only finished it, I finished it well. And then the cabinets ended up rough draft (and hand-painful), too, but though they took twice as much work as I thought they would, I finished. Again!

I didn't think I would, not after that first day with them - I did it the "right" way, using the template provided by the manufacturer, making my little marks and hammering a nail into the cabinet (because I couldn't fit a drill in there). When that initial drawer finally went it, I thought "oh, crap" because the idiot thing was too far back - and I really did follow the directions to the letter (if only because I'm allergic to mistakes)! Anyway, I pulled the whole contraption out, used a bit more common sense (I laid the rail and "drilled" the first pilot hole in place) and it turned out perfect. The second went easier and faster, and the third took me no time at all. Even the swap out and the pull to clean beneath the oven (which hadn't been done since it went in a decade ago) went quicker because I wasn't intimidated anymore.

See, the first time is always the worst time. Once we figure that out, once we realize we know more (or have learned more) than we thought we did, the rest is cake.

Or a well-organized, fabulous-looking set of cabinets:

Rough Draft

Okay, so I wimped out on Valentine's Day and went with our traditional wander-around-and-buy-something-on-the-road thing (instead of tearing up the floors), but, hey, I was getting the flu - it hit me while we were out, too, and we ended up going home early. The Big Lug cooked me chili for dinner (when I'm sick I get weird cravings), and then I listlessly channel surfed until an early bedtime. But I got quite a few things off my list on Friday, so the weekend wasn't a total wash. I just can't cross "pull carpet" off yet.

I might not even want to - not yet, anyway. See, if I pull the carpet in the hallway, I'll have to pull up the threshhold to the bathroom - and if I do that, I'll expose all the layers of tile there. What if we have asbestos? The Big Lug says I'm good at "troubling trouble" but this is the way I think - did I ever mention my brother is head of a big company that deals with toxic waste issues all over the world? And he warned me not to mess with that stuff? Plus, if I peel the hall, I'll want to get the crappet (you read it right) out of the bedroom, too, which is a huge project ... and then I'll want to paint, put up the new curtains, build a headboard, take the frou-frou off the current, imitation Early American furniture, and, basically, make more work than I'm willing to take on right now.

I'm already in deep with the cabinets. I actually put in the three sliders I wanted to install. Done. I turned to cross it off my list when I realized I could take one from the other cabinet (the one I installed just a week ago), put it in for the fry pans, and replace it (with the one that wouldn't fit under the stove) so that it would hold all the storage ware comfortably. More work? Yes. Frustrating? Oh, yeah. But ignore it, I won't.

I'm learning. Fixing up a house is like writing a book - you think you have a handle on the basic story, even most of the details, but no matter how much you brainstorm or even outline the work, once you actually start writing all you ever get is a really "sh*tty first draft." (John Steinbeck knows!)

That domino effect is a big part of why I haven't done this stuff in the first place (writing, too). Yet this time, surprisingly, I found myself shrugging over the drawer and pledging to get it done this week. Apparently, I'm not willing to let the required work (and patience required) stop me any more. It simply won't take that much more time and energy to just do the work.

But not today. I'm still pretty sick (recovery is more exhausting than the illness), and the Big Lug is home (I'm sneaking this blog out in pieces). Also, I worked all day yesterday and even today - I've already seen one student (this morning), talked to another on the phone (after lunch), and peeked in on my email and essays I might have to grade (none there, thank heaven). My life is a bit nuts, as usual, and I have to slow down a bit right now.

Not for too long, though. I have a taste of what can be.

I'm dying to change it into what is.

Progress

Okay, so I'm not perfect. My hands are nearly a half-century old (abused by fighting, as well as heredity), and since I spent two days using clippers (to both cut down the canes and cut them into 6" chunks so my trash guys would take the thorny things) my poor arthritic appendages just weren't happy enough to let me finish screwing down all those rails for the organizational drawers.

The patch looks great, though. Remember the before?

Well, look at it now!


Since it's winter, you might not appreciate the seemingly subtle change, but, trust me, it's night and day around here. Cut, cleared, and mulched. In a couple of weeks, I think I'll plant snow peas in that now-empty, middle space - snow peas don't tend to last past May, which is when the thicket really starts to fill in (and cuts off the sun).

As for the drawers ... yep, there's one thing that'll transfer to the new ToDo. And though I got my blood work done, I'm still avoiding the mammogram. (That's two.) The pull-soldering event will happen when I figure out how to hold onto the fidgity little thing, which even the Big Lug can't envision (and that's saying something) - three things shifted on. And, unfortunately, eBay is dependent on a friend's schedule, because she already does this and promised to help me out ... and I refuse to learn this from the ground up, too. (Four.) Oh, and I tossed one more thing to the next list, too - a carpet pull is slated for this weekend. (Hey, don't you judge me - it's a two person job, believe me, and everyone knows nothing says "I love you" more than ripping up a mile of dirty, dust-mite-excrement-ridden olefin and polyester!)

I'm not displeased. You saw my list. Everything else is done - the only thing I'm waiting on is one more bid for the electrical, but come hell or high water, we'll have our new panel by the end of next week. And, yes, I put Start a novel. Any novel bigger than life - not at the top of the new list, but at the bottom, separate from the rest. See, every writer knows that the last image is always stronger than the first.

So let me leave you with ... not an "after" picture, but one "in-progress" ...


Can you appreciate the other problems with those drawers? Old cabinets, no removable shelves, 5' 10" me. And though I couldn't have gotten even that far in two years ago I was still ... that is to say, I couldn't ... well, I'm stuck there - right there, no further - for a reason.

Now you know why I hate mammograms.