Where the Treasures Are

The Assets vs. Obligation is done. Last year's, the first year I'd ever done it, took me three days of digging, remembering, and calculating (and two weeks to wait for pin numbers and confirmations). This year's took a little over an hour (and that only because my online account for one of the items had disappeared due to an account number change). The results shocked even me - compared the last year's totals, this year the Big Lug and I are ... drum roll please ... down by 23.4%.

Not where I wanted to be, certainly. Makes my quest that much more difficult, obviously. But in a year in which stock and housing markets lost nearly half of their values, we are only down 23.4%. And we both have jobs. And we cut our debt nearly in half (and increased our investing by almost as much). And we're not upside-down in anything. And we're still in love. And ... well, you get the idea.

I blame treasure hunting for this miracle. I have become so much more aware, so much more grateful for everything. I notice, and I thank, and then I spend less yet have an overabundance. I don't understand it but I love it. I suspect that even if I simply continue what I'm doing right now, even if I do nothing differently, I believe that next year's A/O would show us not back where we were but where we should be. Not going to happen, of course - I have too many plans to be content with a draw. And I've learned too much to go backward.

What have I learned?

1) If I want to win this game I must trust my instincts ... to a point. Whether I'm looking at stocks or at jewelry, I listen when something tells me to move. But I cannot let my emotions take over at that point - the excitement and, yes, greed can easily take over. So if it means cutting across a crowded street or dumping several thousand dollars into a mutual fund, then it's my cue to investigate only - with all possible speed, yes, but just to blindly jump, no way (I waited a week, and researched my best options, before I opened my IRA last spring). If it means spending 99 cents on a slightly off-looking charm, however - and on 25% off day, too - well, then, I buy the silly piece with no questions asked. Yes, sometimes it's a "learning curve" item (see #2 and #3). But not always. Both the saxaphone (14K white) and the chain (14K yellow) were inexpensive impulse buys.

2) If I hope to get that $5 mil, I must educate myself ... on everything. This year, I found out that there are some things I'm just not cut out for ... yet. Understanding the stock market in one fell swoop, for example, is a royal pain in my neck. Literally. But you never know what will come in handy. Seriously, a chance remembrance from Antiques Roadshow made me notice the chest (see right) the first time, and recognize the difference between inlay and paint. And my early magic-butt find gave me the impetus to learn how to tell the difference between a real diamond, a fake, and a really good fake (yet I still depend on expensive diamond testers - thank you jewelry store gal! - to really know). I study everything, whether I think I'll need it or not because if I'm interested in a topic, it will be used some day - Mama Angel will see to that. After all, I didn't completely screw up the financials, and I really thought I might. Accounting and Econ (college) finally paid off.

3) If any of us have a chance for a secure life, we have to forgive ourselves when we fail. For the times I followed my greed, or totally effed up with a "learning curve" item that was expensive ... wait, that's the same thing. If I didn't know for sure I could resell it some day for more, if I didn't absolutely love it right then yet I still bought it - unless it was scientific curiosity, of course (remember the box of rocks?) - then I bought it for the wrong reasons. Yet I learned this year that I could not only forgive myself and move on but revel in the new knowledge about the item, and about myself. In fact, I turned many of my biggest mistakes into posts - my favorite form of therapy.

4) The cash isn't the thing; even the things aren't really the thing. In part, the hunt is the thing - if I follow passion instead of greed or fear, then I will not only reach my goals but I will love every step of the path to them. Even more than the search for new things, though, I've learned that treasure hunting is also rediscovering the already-have ... and not just the gold earrings my sister-in-law gave me fifteen years ago, either. Last winter, my daughter and I bonded over - of all things - rocks and minerals. My husband and I are learning we can work together on projects (small ones, so far). My dog and cat have both shown me the value of naps, of apologies, and of being unafraid to demand what you want when you want it (the worst that will happen is someone will say "no"). I've rediscovered the exquisite payoff in smaller portions and bigger flavors, found space in my house I didn't know I had, uncovered quiet time in a schedule made for madness, realized a gift for prioritizing (which I really didn't know I had). I have felt more and experienced more ... I have allowed myself to feel and experience more this year than I have in decades. Because if I've learned anything it's that success always demands risk - nothing happens in a vacuum but free-fall. And I'm tired of drifting.

Which might just be the biggest treasure of them all.

"Before" ... Part Two

Let's just begin, shall we?



From left to right - the view straight in from the front door, the view just to the side (no entry to speak of, just walk straight in), and a shot of the dining room shot from the back of that far, big chair in picture #2. You can see the connection (sofa in #1 and #2, edge of dining table and full view in #2 and #3) between the photos, and it's easy to see that we need an entry of some sort ... a few things on the walls ... purpose to the rooms ...

I didn't bother to clean up first, because heaven knows I can't seem to get enough humiliation from the pictures alone. Why is it that I don't even see most things until they're set in celluloid - sorry, in pixels?



The kitchen needs so much work I could give it its own row, but I just don't have the space here. Cabinets (either I find a demo site for free or just reface), countertops (ditto - maybe granite tiles?), more storage (you can't see from here but there's a wall between the dining room and the kitchen so maybe a series of stud-cavity shelves or tear it down for an island), and flooring (no idea yet). I can only promise to give more details when I'm actually doing the work.

The second shot is the hallway looking into the living room (see the edge of the fireplace?). Ideally I'd knock the house down and fix the narrowness of it all, but that won't be possible. I have two French doors (a curbside find) that will bring more light and architectural interest, and I plan the usual (if predictable) gallery of family photos. New fixtures. And much closet work - that last shot is the closet (you see it just at your left in #2) in its current state. I have big plans for that space (but it's a secret).



Bedrooms, three of the four - I refuse to show you my office, which currently occupies the last one. It's too embarassing, even for me. The first two are (respectively) the grandkids' space and the guest bedroom. Both need only cosmetic, I think - change green to more neutral or even red in the first, put up some curtains and quilt racks in the other. By the way, the first bed is a yard sale find (not the mattress - never mattresses!) and the guest suite is all inherited (from a military friend who moved). There's a low dresser as well, and a mirror, that you can't see. I think I need to clear one of the bigger pieces out, I just don't know which one yet.

As you can tell, our house is small. Never is it more evident than in the master bedroom (photo #3). I'm standing against the south wall for this photo. Not big. But the Big Lug and I are, so we have a California King bed (longer than a queen, not as wide as a king). I decided on this shot to show that it's not just the hall closet that needs help - all the closets are this crappy system of painted plywood sliding doors, and all bedroom closets have that upper bit. I will tear it all out and find a way to get a really good closet organizing system in place, because the rooms are so small I have to get rid of furniture to open them up.



Oh, hell, where do I begin here? The first is (don't laugh) the master bath. I'm standing in the doorway. Seriously. This is going to be the biggest project, expense-wise. I can't even begin to figure out what I'm going to do. The vanity is the newest thing, because the old one (same as in pic #2) was rotted out - we replaced the shutoff valves and the piece in the same day. It's very small, which is why we need to go luxe - or bump out into the fourth (not shown) bedroom. Not cheap, not easy, not pretty - but since I believe in miracles, I believe it can be done! (Do you hear me, Mama Angel?)

The second is the guest bath. The wall on the left is the linen closet from the hall pics, and I have a few ideas for that, as well - Sarah Susanka's books, The Not So Big House series, has inspired me to no end. Since it has to be grandkid-friendly, I'll keep the vintage mint-green porcelain (I have a matching sink I found curbside years ago) and use what I've been collecting over the years to fix this up. I'm hoping there's small subway tile beneath that hideous vinyl crap.

The last one is the basement half-bath (it's going bye-bye with a bang!) but, no, I have no pics of the rest of the basement for you. I've already put some up in previous posts, so you know it's where we "hide" our junk - which is bad enough in thought only, trust me. I promise I will post pics as we work, not a moment before.

So. What do you think? Have I got my job cut out for me, or what? Add in my paying job (which may or may not get crazy, here, soon), and the fact that I plan to challenge my writing crew to a Bestseller Write-Off (and I already have some ideas), and I have quite a year ahead of me. If I can get my kids here to help (they have some debt to work off) and if I can pry the Big Lug away from Sports Center once in awhile, I have a shot at this. If I can get HGTV or DIY on the job, even for one project, I have a really good chance.

And if none of that pans out ... well, high school football players who need math tutoring, contractors with Juniors who need SAT work, anybody who wants to pass any test on the planet - I'll trade time with them. This place isn't going to fix itself up, is it?

Nah, even Mama Angel isn't that good.

"Before" ... Part One

Last Friday, our terrier wandered out of the gate I carelessly left open. She's 15 years old, deaf and mostly blind, and I didn't even realize she'd exited the yard until I noticed the gate - just as a neighbor called to tell me he'd seen her walking back and forth in the parking lot of a church nearby, looking confused. She spooked when she sensed him, so he couldn't return her, but he wanted to give me a heads-up.

Too late. For three hours, the Big Lug and I walked and drove all over the neighborhood looking for her. Luckily, someone else was walking his dog during this time, around the park that abuts our area, and when alerted to the issue he made sure to inform the rangers of her disappearance, giving them our name and number in case she turned up. (No, she wore no collar - she has cysts beneath her chin and can't wear one ... which isn't usually an issue because she hadn't left the back yard in five years until Friday.) Anyway, we got a call around noon that she was safe but disoriented (I explained her age) and I went over and ransomed her back. She's stuck to me like glue ever since, even when I took these pictures. You just can't see her because she's attached to my leg like a burr ... except for the time I spent in the front yard, of course. But she's right behind the door, watching it with her laser-beam gaze, waiting for me to return - trust me.

Well, 'tis the day for the great Before. I must get this all down now because if I don't, if you can't see how bad things really are, I'm not sure I'll be as motivated to fix it all. Remember, I always do better when I'm held accountable.

And now, I present the high (or low) points:

The Big Picture first, from the front. Boring, boring, boring. Needs an inviting entry. Shrubs that don't give me a headache when they flower. Shutters. Maybe windowboxes. Much work to do - and that's not even counting the lawn. Is this a Desperate Landscape, or what?

A closer shot. It's winter, which means the frost has finally killed most of the plants. Not the thyme, of course - it's indestructible (and delicious). Look closely and you might be able to see how cracked all the concrete is - and you saw pictures of that driveway last summer. Needs replacement. And a couple of curves. A small patio as a "resting area." And a path from the street.

The east side. The windows (lying down) are what I thought was a creative solution for the rain that blows into the wells and seeps through the cracks in the basement walls just beneath the actual windows. It's not. I'm calling waterproofing companies to see who can address the seeping issue (preferably in trade, and hopefully without the need to involve an engineer). A pergola would be nice, too - maybe build in some plexiglass panels to shield the wells (if we don't decide to block them over completely). The rose stays (as per the Big Lug).

The view from our back porch.

The view of our back porch. Ma and Pa Kettle got nothing on us, huh? We're working on it, I swear. Storage would help. A new porch, for certain, and either a deck or a patio ... or both. Concrete will be easier and cheaper because I can recycle the driveway, play with the geometry, but, of course, that will also entail finding a grass that will grow on the soggy and shady north side. And yet, if we can find some recycled wood for a low deck, then block up the windows so rainwater won't follow the slope into the house ... get some ground cover to shield the footings ... or raise up the slope at the house and channel runoff toward the borders...

... And you wonder why I'm Artful Dodger Bunny these days, do you? Ah well. This is the outside of our home-to-be. Next time, the inside.

Be afraid.

Playing Catch

I have this thing with my left eye - it's called "cellophane maculopathy," or "macular pucker." Not fatal, not even debilitating, but really irritating sometimes. Because of it, if I close the other eye, the world looks as if I were looking at it through broken glass. "Mosaic vision" I call it. When the doctor found it years ago (after I'd developed a dead zone in the center) he asked if I'd suffered any trauma to that eye.

"Not really," I said, then remembered something. "Wait, my cousin shot a flat-tipped arrow into it when I was four," I told him. "The tear-duct was closed until I was in my twenties. Does that count?"

"Mm-hm," he said, making a note.

I frowned. "Oh, and I was in a few ... some ... okay, a lot of fights when I was a kid, mostly with right-handers, so I took some ... a lot of blows to that eye. That whole side of my head, really."

An eyebrow raised, but only "mm," he said, and more writing.

"And there was the time my brother accidentally stabbed me with a toothpick. It bled a little, got infected - they thought they'd have to do surgery."

He glanced up at that. "A toothpick?"

"Long story involving a hole in the wall, a stupid friend of his, and me changing clothes. Then, when I figured out what they were doing, I tried to spy on them ..."

"Ah," he said, blinking. "Is that all?"

"The scene shop in college, maybe? Lots of wood bits found their place."

"Right."

"And, uh ... well, there's softball."

He sat back with a sigh, put his pen down. "Don't tell me - infield pops?"

"Nope. I was a catcher."

"And a few dozen got through, huh?" He shook his head and picked up his pen. "So you were bad at fighting, bad at spying, bad at carpentry, bad at catching softball --"

"Wrong, Doc," I said with dignity, "I was great at fighting and spying and carpentry and catching." I shrugged. "I was just really bad at ducking."

I haven't improved much over the years. Cabinets leap out to thwack me in the head or the leg, tables scoot in front of me with the least provocation, and even in his sleep the Big Lug can find just about any part of me with elbows or knees. It's why I'm a bit ... wary of this home improvement quest.

I'm a wimp about this, I know. I mean, I've filed my fingernails down (they're usually the first thing to go, and painfully) got the leather gloves and the safety glasses at the ready, yet still I hesitate on even the smallest project. Too many bits of metal and wood and bugs ... and various other things ... have found their way into my eyes and mouth and skin over the years. (I won't even tell you the story involving my car's open moon roof and a seagull, but ... ew.) I know I should just dive right in, face my fear. Yet I'd so much rather write, or tutor, or ... stick another toothpick in my eye ... than face the steel filings I know are lurking in the basement.

Okay, the toothpick is a bit of an overstatement - not a great memory there. But, honestly, I have been busy at work - a situation which, fortunately or unfortunately, is about to end (this weekend is the SATs, and not as many will take it in March). I have also been trying to get everything organized (taxes, investments, the asset/obligation sheet), tasks which do not invite as many kamikaze insects into my life but do eat up life moments. I'm trying to get back in the habit of walking and watching what I eat, too, after a little break - just because I've reached my goal doesn't mean I can relax the vigilance, right? Going through my library of cookbooks is taking time, too, and the seed catalogues, and ...

Ah, crap. I lied to the Doc, didn't I? Maybe not about the physical, but about the mental ... responsibilities and promises ... bob and weave ... excuse after excuse ... yep, I told a whopper all right.

I'm really quite good at ducking.

The Power of the "P"

I'm a planner. In fact, I'm so good at planning, so good at dreaming up enough details and nuances to make you weep with the vision of it, that I can plan myself right out of an action in almost no time at all. I've already planned myself into our home, the most beautiful home you've ever seen ... as long as it stays in my head.

Yep, several bestselling novels, three screenplays, four or five songs, an entire clothing line, two syndicated cartoons, blueprints for both saline-water separators and time machines, and the solutions to at least two of the Millenium Problems, all float around in my mind, all the time - and all thought out to the nth degree and therefore (to my silly little psyche) already reality.

That, in a nutshell ... uh, in essence ... is the problem.

It wasn't always like this. Once upon a time, I actually wrote for the fun of it - my first drafts were so drafty I had to quadruple the page count to get even close to where I should be. Once upon a time, I even painted what I wanted, when I wanted, and no thought to more than "wouldn't that be lovely." Once upon a time, I could look at a math problem and just know I could do it ... and then did. No chewing it for so long the flavor's gone. No urges to haul out the mental microscope to see all the inclusions. Nope. Brief outline, a vague sense of a direction, a foggy glimpse of the end product then ... begin!

It was a blast. It was a real quest. And I want it back. I need it back.

But how? How do I make that particular p-word (plan) a swear word? Could I just eliminate it from my vocabulary? Replace it? Maybe if I put up Post-It notes in the bathroom, cover my world with "believe" and "trust" and ... wait, am I doing it again? Isn't that a plan?

Stop! No more plans! Plans aren't fun, they're constricting and boring! I have to make life my coloring book again! Sketches without a finished product! Take a line for a walk and see where it leads me! A sense of destination but not a map - especially one that only covers the interstates!

Adventure, dammit! Life should have rhythm, yes, but it shouldn't be so stressful, so dull. I want some surprises in my life again!

Why not look for other p-words ... hm, how about passion, purpose, progress ... so much better ... parachute, paradigm, paradise ... possibility, playful, prospector ... and, of course, prank ...

Oh, that opens a whole new realm of possibilities, doesn't it?