Archive for the ‘This Life’ Category

Via Ann Shen at Annplified

Rally Cry:

I’m serving notice to my soul. And to IZ’s. Because right now, we need to remember that giving up is not an option.

I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been crazy lady painting and getting out the last orders for Christmas from Mireio and dreading. Maybe it’s self-fullfilling prophecy, but I’ve been waiting for another shoe to drop and it finally did in the form of an email demanding more money. Much more money. Money we never heard about, never agreed to, wasn’t allotted by the insurance, and far beyond our means. Money we asked about over and over and were told, “Oh, no, we’re square.”

Which meant work stopped on our home. I have doors placed, but frames are missing. Wood floors laid, but no trim to hide the poor job done cutting. (I’m told that’s how all wood floors are done.) Lots of unpainted surfaces. Tons of trim just waiting to be cut with no means to do so.

We’ve been patient and forgiving. The marble floors that were marred. The 12″ scar in my brand new tub. The work-arounds, late starts, non starts, bad attitudes, garbage piled on my porch for weeks. (so bad, that a rat found one of the vats of left-over drywall mixture and drowned and then proceeded to rot.)

I’ll admit that I’ve lost my faith in anyone who wears a tool belt. And I’m heartbroken to see the state of my home. Which, should have been done with just enough time to bake a few cookies and decorate a tree. Restore some semblance of normalcy to our lives after 6 months of this state of chaos.

Instead, I’m sitting with that feeling. Beating despair back.

So, I’m serving notice to my soul. And to IZ’s as well. Don’t give up. We don’t know what the future holds. What the remedy will be or if there will even be one.

But giving up is not an option. Until it is. And then we will wait for grace.

I’ve been giving our son little gifts each day as we countdown Christmas. Just small tokens of my affection. Today, I found the little handmade butterfly he left for me on my sewing machine.

Tiny vintage floral pick—Santa is hanging out in the packaging area of Mireio reminding me of the Christmas Spirit all year long.

December 1, 2011

It’s brisk and bright—classic late autumn weather to usher in December. A month of season changes and celebrations. An ending to a year.

How did we get to December? This year has been a whirlwind.

We are encamped in our living room—and I’m sitting in our bed (where our sofa should be) writing this and wondering, “Where in the heck am I going to put a Christmas Tree?”  No, seriously, I’m asking. The living room and the contents of my closet are now in the dining room.  To complicate matters new carpets are scheduled to be installed on the main floor right before New Years. So, I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to get all this put back together, put up a tree, only to take it right back down again.

I’m going to pitch the idea of a bathroom tree to the boys later today, but you know that’s not going to fly.

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Someone needs to take some Anger Management courses.

IZ and I talking over our decor scheme over coffee:

Me: “Sigh. You realize our bedroom is the only feminine spot in the house? The entire thing is just so. . . masculine.”

IZ: “That’s not true. Besides, you’re little miss modern. It’s not like you LIKE girly country things.”

Me: “What? Your argument doesn’t hold water. Just because I don’t do calico or chintz doesn’t mean I don’t like feminine things. I adore Hollywood Regency, and that’s like the ultra fem side of modern. We don’t have any chandeliers or leopard print or mirrored furniture anywhere in this house!”

IZ: “Because we can’t afford them.”

Me: “That’s not the point, really. Our house doesn’t look like a girl lives in it. Our house screams MEN live here.”

IZ: “I think our house screams compromise.”

Me: “Uh, more like it screams BUDGET!”

Me: “Actually, our house screams ‘These two idiots were completely enamored by the charm and nostalgia of buying their first home they didn’t think about what an old house costs to fix and are now too house poor to buy real furniture.’”

I think our house might have a yelling problem. What does your house scream about you?

One of the perks of working at home with your spouse. Sometimes, he brings you coffee and chocolate.

I’m pretty sure this belonged to the former owners of our house. And I have no idea why we still have it. Except, that every time I re-discover it, I can’t seem to stop laughing enough to toss it out. So, back in the drawer it goes. Don’t ask me why I think it’s funny, I’m clueless about that as well.

Do you keep stuff like that? Random things that make you laugh?

Foamy lattes always make the list

Counting My Blessings

We are a week into living in chaos and it’s frighteningly easy to become overwhelmed by this situation. I’ve cried more in the past week than I did in the previous 3 months of hotel life.

But it is November, and November reminds us (albeit often conjoined with a little gluttony) to stop and count our blessings. To be thankful. To cherish the moments in front of us and express gratitude for the moments passed. Oh, and to post those blessings on Facebook. Hello, a month of status updates. Done.

Too cynical? Maybe just a little?

Sure, there’s a line. And it’s easily crossed into “my life is so awesome, I just have to brag about it.”  Judging by my facebook stream it’s a line most of us don’t even know exists!  But it’s just as easy to cross over into that cynical space of thinking nobody can be that perfect, hopeful, lovely, etc. . . and chalk up their efforts to express their gratitude to narcissism.

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Love from Paris: Gorgeous gifts from the amazing Elizabeth Germo of En Route.

To say Sunday morning was bad, well, would be short selling it. As I sat waiting for IZ to come back with breakfast, the reality that our 3 month stay in a clean hotel was coming to an end, and that I, mother of a teenager, was moving my child and assorted pets back into this distasterpiece sunk in. I felt like the worst mother in the world. I mean, who lets their kid live in this filth and destruction?

“Baby, it’s going to be OK. Here, eat a chocolate croissant,” as he hands me a pastry and an almond latte. But there are some things that pastry can’t solve.  With the realization that all my hopes and plans to have our space somewhat sorted, or at least my child’s room cleared of construction debris, were just pie in the sky dreaming—the universe clearly didn’t get the memo— came a flood of tears. IZ kept saying, “Sweetie, think of it as camping in your own house.”

Um.

No.

It’s not camping. It’s a freakin’ obstacle course. If I get a chance to video the horror, I will. But in the meantime, trust me, you don’t want to live here right now.

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The Brawny Guy says, “Have an Extra Strong Halloween.”

This is his last year trick-or-treating. He’s only going because one of his best buddies is a bit younger and wants to uphold their long standing tradition. But, you know it’s time to stop* when you’re bumming your dad’s footwear for your costume. Happy Halloween, everyone. Stay Safe. See you soon.

*or when your mother says, “let’s take some photos” and you just give her that teenager angst look. Yeah, time for YOU to stay home and hand out candy. Good thing you’re living out of a hotel right now, buster!

Photo via Susie Harris. You can win this sign!

This is it. . .

Well, folks, this is it. Halloween. And the day before we “occupy our house”. (IZ has been  joking with me all weekend about that. He’s using our real address, which makes the joke funny… er?)

Our house, sigh. It’s a freakin’ war zone. And it’s no place to be living. As in no kitchen, no bathrooms*, no laundry, no nothing. We emptied out a kitchen, laundry/pantry, and two bathrooms into the remaining spaces of the house with the promise that SOMEONE else would put it all back, clean my house from top to bottom, before we moved back in.

Um.

So.

Today I will be multitasking. Doing last minute laundry, carving a space for my kid to sleep, making sure everyone including the dog gets a good bath, and staging tomorrow’s exit, while trying for some semblance of normalcy on a day that isn’t normal. It’s Halloween, after all. And while we didn’t carve pumpkins or decorate the house (Although, talk about a nightmare! Here trick-or-treaters, you get candy. You parents can walk through our disasterpiece and be haunted by the shades of home renovation.) I’m determined that we celebrate in our own small ways.

I don’t know when I’ll be back online for the next few days. You’d think vacating a hotel room would be easy, but . . . I have fears, people, real fears that have been invading my dreams. We brought all this stuff over in a course of 3 months and now I have to get it out of here in one day. (with no place to put any of it at our home.) With a kid and a dog and a cat. So, if you touch bases in the next week and discover I’ve not updated the blog, please pray for my little family??

Every little thing is gonna be alright. Just not yet.

* there is a tiny powder room in my studio on the lower floor. That means a two flight hike in the middle of the night. I’m thinking no more water after 9 pm for the next few days. Heh.