Handing Over The Keys

We closed on the sale of our old house late last week. The sound of my sigh could probably be heard from Baltimore to Bakersfield. Whew. Nothing like selling a house during the worst housing slump since Herbert Hoover sat in the White House. By the way, that’s NOT a political statement. I don’t want any mail from the Democrats, the GOP, The Tea Party or PETA or Bill O’Reilly or Jennifer Anniston on this one ‘cause frankly, I’m tired of the fussing that gets us NOWHERE. I’m just sayin’ the housing market hasn’t sucked this bad in decades, and it figures the Hula-gen’s would wait until this era to sell a house. Ten months after we put that home on the market, we signed the papers that gave it a new owner. No more double utilities. No more double insurance. No more extra yard to mow. We are finally free and clear of that house. While it put the joy, joy, joy down in my heart to sign on the dotted line, it did make me a touch sad to see it go. We had lots of good times there.

We lived in that house fifteen years. It was the first home Hubby and I bought together. We raised Teen Angel there. The backyard saw many gardens, grew bushels of tomatoes, held up Teen Angel’s swing set and produced lots of grapes, flowers and memories. We chased lightening bugs there. Danced on the deck. We laughed with family and friends and made lots of homemade ice cream in that spot by the garage door. That spot in the front yard by the driveway is where the Boy Scouts put the flag each summer holiday. The magnolia tree still bears the scars of the big ice storm, and the fork of the fringe tree is where Teen Angel used to hide and daydream.

The house wasn’t exactly a fixer-upper when we bought it, but the 70’s interior needed updating. It had good bones and was solid. It just needed new carpet and paint and some changes to the light fixtures and appliances. When we bought it, we could barely afford the new carpet and paint, so we did all of the work ourselves. We were exhausted when we moved in but oh so excited.

It was kind of small by most people’s standards. It was what realtors describe as “charming” or “a doll house” which is usually code for short on square footage. But it was enough for us. It sat next door to Mama J.’s and Papa T.’s house, making it easy to get Teen Angel to her babysitter and allowing her to essentially have two homes on the block. The maple tree in the front was one that Hubby helped his neighbor to plant when he was a boy.

We nurtured and loved on that house for years. We eventually remodeled the kitchen. We put on a new roof and new windows. Replaced the hearing and air conditioning unit. Another year we tackled the master bathroom, and lastly, we redid the flooring and turned the third bedroom into one big walk-in closet to make up for the lack of closet space. Over time though, we outgrew it. The closet space was still an issue, you couldn’t turn around in the bathroom without bumping your fanny on the door, and we just didn’t have enough room inside to have parties or company. When Sissy’s house became available, we decided to sell and make the big move.

It was hard on Hubby. He attaches emotion to every possession he owns and had a terrible time letting go. It was probably a good thing that he had months to sort through the garage and attic and all of the stuff we had accumulated there in fifteen years. At one point during the toss, save or give away portion of the attic purge, I thought we were going to resort to hair pulling. He accused me of not caring about any of my possessions and wanting to put everything in the toss pile. That’s not true. I care, but I don’t have to have most of them. I can let them go and keep the memories in my heart. And that’s what I’m doing to the little brick house.

It was a good house for us, but we needed to move on, and now it’s going to be a good house for someone else. The new owner is a 27-year old single teacher who had been saving the last few years for her first home. She loves the little brick house. It’s just right for her. Plenty of room for one person. A great deck with a hot tub for entertaining and a big backyard that she hopes will one day hold a pool. She has dreams for that house, including ripping out that old black and white tile in the bathroom that I always wanted to replace. You go, girl!

About two hours after we signed the closing papers, we were at Mama J.’s and Papa T.’s and saw her pull into the driveway with her parents, her grandma and a passle of aunts and uncles who came to see her new purchase. She was downright giddy. I’m pleased she is the one out of all those lookers during the past ten months that ended up with the house. I know it’s in good hands, and that makes me happy. It makes Hubby happy, too. Besides, it's only two blocks away from the new house, and we can drive by anytime and see how it looks.

Ten months after we stuck the For Sale sign in the yard, we are ready to let go. Goodbye, little brick house. We will never forget you or the memories we made there.

Evidence I Need A Zoom Lens For Christmas

When we moved to the new house, one of the things Hubby thought he would miss would be the wildlife that frequented our backyard. Even though we lived in a subdivision, it was a rural area, and he had cultivated quite a following of hummingbirds, squirrels, birds and other animals. He fed them daily with all kinds of seeds and corn, and the Hula-gen buffet had quite a following among the local critters. In fact, they were so well fed that some of our squirrels were overweight. I once saw a squirrel that was so heavy both cheeks of his butt hanged over the sides of the feeder he was sitting on. We spent many an hour sitting on the deck and watching hummingbirds fight over sugar water and finches and doves flit around the feeders. Even though the new house was only two blocks away and butts up against some woods, Hubby was afraid he wouldn’t have any wildlife here. “Don’t worry,” I said. “If you feed them, they will come.”

One day during warm weather while we were remodeling, Hubby saw a couple of deer in the backyard. They were eating fruit off of the persimmon tree. The next night, when the flooring contractor pulled into the driveway, a big buck was standing by the front steps. (So much for me ever having tulips in the front yard.) Hubby got all excited, and with the permission of our soon to be neighbors who didn’t mind deer wandering so close to the houses, he bought a salt block and put it at the far edge of the backyard. And waited. And waited some more. Once in a while, we caught a flicker of a deer but they didn’t come around when we were at the house. Of course, they could have been scared off by the weeks long whirring of saws and hammers and Hula-gen cursing. Hubby was disappointed. Although he was excited about our move, change is very difficult for him, and leaving our home of fifteen years was tough for him. He needed something from our old home to make the new home feel…well, like home. He was pinning his hopes on the critters. So he added some corn to the salt block, and waited some more. But they didn’t come. Deer season started and our hopes of seeing them faded, even though the corn pile seemed to get a little smaller from time to time.

And then early Saturday morning just after dawn, the dog barked to go outside. Hubby got up to take him out, and when he walked by the French doors, he got a wonderful surprise. He woke me up from a sound sleep, and since anyone who wakes me up at 6:43 on a Saturday morning better have a darn good excuse for doing so, I knew it must be important. “Look, look,” he whispered. I stuck my sleepy eyes next to the bedroom window and spied three deer tiptoeing across the frosty grass. We watched them for a long time as they warily sampled the corn and lingered long enough to get breakfast.
While the dog impatiently stamped around with a full bladder, we oohed and aahed over the deer until they slipped into the woods. They were back yesterday morning and this morning, as well. First a doe.
Who leads the way for her youngin’s.
And finally, a buck who likes to eat last.

Hubby is thrilled. They show up between 6:30 and 6:45 each morning, come through the same place in the nearby fence row and leave in almost the exact same opening in the woods. They are wary and alert, but beautiful in the rosy haze of a December sunrise. It’s in those still moments when they stand yards away from us and gaze at us with big brown eyes that I feel as if I can hear God whispering to me to, “Here’s a gift. Take it all in before the day sweeps you away.”

Also, on Saturday when I looked outside Teen Angel’s bedroom window, I saw several birds nibbling on the ground nearby. I think they like that spot for some reason. Hubby plans to toss out some bird feed this week to see what happens.

It took a little while, but the critters came. I hope they stay. I can live without the tulips.

Hello Neighbor

Dear New Neighbors,
My name is Hula, and I’m writing to introduce you to my family. I meant to knock on your door by now, but I’ve been a little covered up with this unpacking business. I had hoped to have a little holiday open house, but if I plan one more special event during the Christmas season, my family will hogtie me with mistletoe and ship me to the North Pole. I will try to introduce myself personally soon, but hopefully, this note will suffice until then.

There are some things about the Hula-gen’s I should probably make you aware of so that we get off on the right foot. First of all, let me go ahead and apologize in advance for my early morning walk-the-dog attire. The Crocs are kind of a necessity since the dog likes to wander into any wet spot he finds in the yard. As Lt. Dan said in Forrest Gump, it’s important to keep your feet dry, and the Crocs are usually the handiest pair of shoes sitting at the back door. I realize the robe is a disaster, but you must admit a robe is like jeans. It just doesn’t feel good until it’s pretty much worn out, plus Teen Angel got it for me for Christmas. Also, even though I walk the dog at 5:45am, I do pledge to wear underwear because at least one of you runs at that hour, and this really doesn’t seem like an underwear optional neighborhood. I must say I will miss that about my old block. It kept things interesting, especially since most of my old neighbors were elderly.

Our dog is barker. He’s a miniature schnauzer, and it’s their nature. We will do our best to keep him from barking at you when you pass by, but don’t worry. His personality is bigger than he is, and he’s really a fraidy cat. He won’t bite you, but he likes to make you think he will. Our cat on the other hand, will bite when provoked. She had a rough life before she came to us, and she’s a bit ornery. We have the papers to prove it. When we picked her up at the vet after vacation, her report card had a big red check by the I Was A Little Devil box. We like to call her our little she devil. When you’re visiting us, she will probably leave you alone, but you should probably not leave your ankles unprotected.

If you ask to borrow something, we will loan it to you. If you fail to return it or tear it up, we will pretend not to have the next item you ask to borrow because we won’t want to hurt your feelings by saying no.

If you go out of town on vacation and ask us to keep an eye on your teenagers while you’re gone, we will. We won’t call the cops if they have a party unless there is underage drinking and drug use. We won’t tattle on them, but we will tell you the truth when you get back and ask if there were any parties.

Speaking of parties, we like to have them. We won’t be loud and keep you up half the night, but we do like to have company. In fact, we have three parties scheduled this month. You will sometimes see our driveway full of cars, but our friends will not streak naked through your yard or jump off our roof. They won’t toss beer cans in your driveway either. They usually go home fairly early because they’re getting old and tired.

Apparently, many of you are curious about the renovations to our house since you saw so many workers come and go for months. You do not need to borrow a cup of sugar in order to get in the door to see the tile and countertops. Just knock on the door and ask. I’ll even show you my newly organized closet.

We are suckers for every kid who shows up on our doorstep selling something for school or clubs. Send ‘em our way without feeling guilty. We like band fruit, cookie dough, pretzels, Girl Scout cookies, Boy Scout popcorn and World's Finest Chocolate bars. Overpriced wrapping paper? Not so much. But I’ll probably buy some anyway.

In summary, we are boisterous, and we like to laugh. We often laugh at ourselves. We are just common folk who enjoy a good story or a good fart joke. We enjoy the simple things in life, and we like sharing life with family and friends. We will help you any way we can. We may wear leopard print pajamas with pink crocs outside, but we won’t let our grass get too high and we won’t let our dog poop in your yard. We’re just happy to be here, and I’m afraid you’re stuck with us for a long time because we don’t EVER want to move again.

Sincerely,

Hula

Just How Big IS The New Chair?

It comfortably holds a 6'4" man, a 5'6" teenager, a spoiled miniature schnauzer, one fat cat and a partridge in a pear tree.

Can You Tell I Didn't Have Internet During The Past Few Days?

Whew! What a crazy week. It feels as if I’ve been away from blogland forever. I hope to be back to visiting your blogs soon, my friends. Goodness knows if I miss very many episodes of The Jason Show, I miss a lot of excitement. He’s the only person I know with a family more lively than mine.

We continued to sort and unpack and put things into place at the new house, and we celebrated Thanksgiving on Thursday AND Saturday. Thursday was a quiet meal at a restaurant with Hubby’s parents, and Saturday was the traditional all you can eat turkey-ham fest at Mama’s and Daddy’s house. Don’t tell my peeps, but I’ll be serving them turkey pot pie tomorrow night. That should wrap up the leftovers, except for the dressing, but I froze that to layer onto a rolled up turkey breast in a few weeks, so I can use up that turkey breast I’ve had sitting in the freezer since that sale at Kroger. They won’t remember where that dressing came from by January. Ah, the games we play in order to feed our families something other than the same old thing.

Saturday was an opportunity to play at length with Special Delivery. He is growin’ like a weed and is running, so he’s into everything now. You know, that part is fun when it’s not your child you have to chase 24/7. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on how far we’ve come in our healing over Sissy’s death and to remember how lucky we are. It also produced my newest favorite picture which Teen Angel took while trying to figure out how to work my camera.

Not bad for a first effort. Not bad at all.

We're Moved!

Well, except for the garage and attic contents which are sitting sadly at the old house like orphans during a potato famine, but basically we are moved. We have worked our fannies off during the last four days to get things hauled into the new house, and we’ve been sleeping there since Friday night. As I suspected the process of sifting through our belongings and leaving a home of fifteen years has put me in a sentimental mood this past week. I guess it has as much to do with my grief over Sissy’s death as anything. After all, her house is now our house. Our bed sits in the same position her bed did, and as I laid down Friday night I couldn’t help but imagine the thoughts that used to go through her head as she waded through her insomnia and depression each night. I didn’t dwell on it though. I’m past that in my grief now, and I rarely linger very long over what ifs. Being in her house does make me feel closer to her, in a good way.

I thought we had a day or two to breathe a little and catch up on our rest before we tackled the task of cleaning the old house, but the real estate agents like to play this little game called Bringing Over A Prospective Buyer When the Owners are Least Prepared. A call from an agent yesterday about a visit today sent us into major cleanup mode last night. While it still needs a little work, the house is presentable for today’s visitors whom I hope won’t notice that stain inside the cabinet that used to hold canned goods. While it’s not horrible, it’s…..okay, it’s kind of horrible. As I was scrubbing away my manicure on the kitchen cabinets last night I did have the thought that all of those days that I blew off deep cleaning the kitchen to lay by the pool with a book and a beverage were finally “coming home to roost” as mama says.

We have sold the old furniture to a lady we know, and she should pick it up any day now. That will leave the old house empty except for the attic and garage boxes, which we will likely deal with when they become urgent. If the house doesn’t sell soon, I’m just going to enjoy the holidays and not worry about those boxes until January. All in all, it’s been a fairly smooth transition. One of these days when I’ve learned where everything is and have time to go through my files, I’ll give you some before and after photos of the renovations, but for now I’ll just share a few tidbits:

-The dog and cat are a little perplexed by the change of scenery. While they haven’t wigged out on us, they silently follow us all over the house. All day. Every time we turn around they’re at our feet. It was a little disconcerting when I was taking my shower yesterday and looked through the glass to see both of them sitting in the bathroom floor watching me with great interest.
-I kept forgetting to bring my robe to the new house. Yesterday, when I walked the dog at 5:45am I had on Teen Angel’s pink crocs, baggy pajamas, a running jacket and a bandana in my hair. I figured none of the new neighbors would see me at 5:45 anyway. Just as I reached the curb and the dog hiked his leg, I heard, “tap, tap, tap”. “Oh, no”, I thought. Sure enough, there was a neighbor, jogging toward me in the dark. The neighbor I see at every 5K race I attend. I sheepishly said, “Mornin’” and picked up my robe last night.
-I didn’t have time to take many pictures during the moving process, but I did take a moment to snap this one. Look, eight bottles of lotion! What did I tell you?
-I’ve always wanted a pantry where I could store all of our food and the dozens of kitchen appliances and gizmos I own. I have one now, and it’s as good as I had hoped. Thank you, Jesus.
-We went three days without television, and we MISSED it. It was like the ice storm all over again, without the darkness. And the cold. And the exhaustion.
-While it’s still a house and not yet a home, it will soon feel like home. We know it will take a little time, but some of us have already found a place for our favorite things.

Hula and Hubby Plus Eight

Moving teaches you a lot about yourself, especially if you’ve been in one home for a long time, say fifteen years. Sorting through all of your belongings is eye opening. And cleansing. And sometimes downright confusing. Besides sending you down memory lane, it can leave you scratching your head and asking how in the world you ended up with this. Or that. Or THOSE.

Like eight pounds of powdered sugar. Eight! I took this picture before I found the other four pounds.
That number doesn’t include the powdered sugar in the canister on the kitchen counter or the partial bag I’m sure is sitting in the freezer. Apparently, I’m hoarding it for some butter cream icing emergency.

I also have eight kinds of flavorings. Can you tell I use a lot of almond extract?
By the way these all went to the new house. Christmas cookie season is the around the corner, baby, and you never know when you’ll need orange flavoring. Since I use about a quarter teaspoon of mint flavoring a year, it will be Christmas of 2015 before I get rid of those two bottles.

I was shocked to find that I have eight (are you seeing a trend?) loaf pans. I got yer small loaf pans, yer ceramic loaf pan, yer glass loaf pan and one metal one that was so dinged up and nasty that I turned it upside down before I took the picture.
I kept two and got rid of the rest.

The item that wins the puzzler prize turned up last night. I loaded all of my underwear, socks and pajamas into boxes and took them to the new house. As I was putting them away I discovered that I have a lot of underwear. A LOT. As I was stacking panties I said to myself, “Self, I’ll bet you’ve got sixty pair there.” So I counted them out of curiosity, and found 94 pair. Ninety-four!!! I didn’t take a picture because I heard my mama’s voice in my head saying, “Nobody wants to see your drawers, and even if they did you don’t need to show em’ to people.” She’s right. The World Wide Web doesn’t need to see that, but take it from me; it was a mighty big stack. Apparently, in my quest to find the perfect panty over the last year…or three….I’ve bought and bought and bought and saved and saved and saved one of every brand out there. I even had that old panty girdle I bought right after I gave birth to Teen Angel (seventeen years ago) when I just had to fit into a certain little black dress. It was ridiculous. I weeded that stack down to a respectable level and vowed not to let THAT happen again.

We are one day away from sleeping in the new house. I am off of work tomorrow and plan to wrap up the moving of household items, but I’m a little worried. I have to tackle the bathroom cabinets, and I’m afraid I’m about to find out just how many bottles of lotion I really have. I’m guessing at least eight.

An Unexpected Turn of Events

While I was at work today, SOMEBODY moved our clothing to the new house. Every last stitch of it. As in emptied out the walk-in closet and left Hula with a winter hat and a coconut bra. As in Hula had to go down to the new house to pick up something to wear to work tomorrow. SOMEBODY mentioned that I wanted HIM to speed up this moving process, so he was just trying to accommodate me. SOMEBODY was smiling sweetly as he explained that.

And I think I heard him whisper, "Checkmate."

Ha! A worthy opponent is he.

An Update to A Story we Brought You Earlier

SOMEONE loaded the spare refrigerator we keep in the garage onto his dollie and rolled it down the street to the new house yesterday, along with the freezer. SOMEONE hosted poker night at the new house last night, and SOMEONE reluctantly had to make a trip back to the old house for paper plates and cornmeal, because I had forgotten them. Late last night when SOMEONE went to get his nightly bottle of water out of the garage refrigerator and realized it wasn’t there anymore, that SOMEONE said, “This is getting old!”

And while I’m beginning to suspect that SOMEONE has a spare roll of toilet paper hidden in the old house, SOMEONE mentioned this morning that he wanted to move our clothes to the new place before this weekend.

Game. Set. Match.

Movin', Movin', Movin', Keep That Husband Movin'

I'm not naming any names, but someone around this house is dragging his size 13 feet on getting stuff packed up and moved to the new house. That someone is apparently overwhelmed at the thought of sorting through fifteen years of stuff and moving it to a new location. That someone needed some motivation since the holiday season is looming, and we need to get relocated before that madness starts.

So, yesterday I packed up every last item in the kitchen and moved it into the new house. There is nothing to eat in this old house and nothing to eat it with or cook it with. I figure that will get old fast and should speed things along nicely. Oh, and just as an additional precaution, tomorrow I'm sending all of the toilet paper except one roll to the new house. I figure he should be ready to load up our clothes in about two days, depending on the amount of fiber he eats this weekend.

And All Was Right With The World

We had new furniture delivered last Friday, so you know what that means. Yes, the Big Ass Chair has arrived. Never mind the beautiful bedroom suite or the cool coffee table, all Hubby could talk about was his new chair. The big 'ol recliner that holds two, count 'em TWO, people.

From the minute the delivery truck pulled into the driveway, he was all, "Hey, it's here!" and "Isn't she a beauty?" And, "LOOK, here it comes now!"

He parked his backside in it before the delivery guys' hands were off the smooth, soft microfiber.There was oohing and ahhing and, "Hey, check this out!" as he lovingly tested the chair like Ralphie fondled the leg lamp in A Christmas Story. And just like Ralphie, he snuggled up with his Red Ryder chair and drifted off to a place where little boys' dreams come true.

He needs to watch the reclining action on that baby. It could put somebody's eye out.

Thoughts on the Upcoming Move

-After fifteen years of living in this house, I'm going to finally see the back of my spice shelf again. And I'm a little afraid of what I'll find. I suspect there's a ten year old bottle of Creole seasoning back there.
-I'm very afraid of what I'm going to find in the back of the bathroom cabinet.
-Hubby has been dragging his feet on packing up stuff in the garage, but I think he's getting motivated to do more by the every other day frantic Oh My Gosh Someone's Coming to Look at the House Let's get Things Cleaned Up call from the realtor.
-When we started the remodeling of the new house I was very excited about all of the choices I needed to make in tile, paint and knobs and such. I'm so over that. Right now, you could paint my new living room Lady Ga Ga Pink and I wouldn't care. Not until Christmas anyway.
-I plan to purge, purge, purge during this move. My family is determined to drag, drag, drag all that crap down the street with them.
-The last time we moved it was from a duplex two blocks up the street. This time we are moving just two blocks farther down the street. By the time we're sixty years old we might actually get out of this subdivision.
-There are some things I simply plan to scoot onto a dolley and roll down the street on moving day. The aquarium with gallons and gallons of water is NOT one of them.
-I suspect the cat, who just got used to this house, is going to be really confused when we move her back into her old house.
-Our dog has already gotten into a fight with the neighbor's dogs. How embarrassing.
-Yes, CS. Hubby got the Big Ass Chair. It's supposed to be delivered Friday.
-We're hosting a bonfire/party for Teen Angel's Key Club Saturday night. It will be at the new house because there is more backyard there. Think anyone will notice we don't actually live there yet?
-While I'm excited about moving into the new house, I think I'm unprepared for how emotional the move from this old house where Hubby and I started our family will be. I should probably pack the tissues last.

Cross Your Fingers, Say a Prayer and Rub Your Rosary

If all goes well this week, and that's a big "if" given our experience to date, we may have furniture delivered to the new house this Friday. That means we could start moving in soon. First, there is an unfinished grout issue to work through with the contractor tomorrow night. There is also a lot of cleaning to do, some door knobs to install and a shower door that's in transit somewhere, but....BUT....move in day is drawing near. We received appliances this past week, and the gas fireplace arrives tomorrow morning. Woot, woot!

My posting may be a little erratic this week, but photos are coming soon to a blog near you. Pray for me as I wade through fifteen years of "stuff"!

Everybody Into the Deep End

Ya’ know how I said things were finally settling down, and I wasn’t quite as overwhelmed as I had been recently? Well, the calm didn’t last. In fact, it didn’t have time to settle in before I ran it off. In a move I like to call the crazy dance, Hubby and I threw caution to the wind and decided to sell our house. And buy another one up the street. Never mind that the housing market sucks monkey toes for sellers right now or that we’ll have our current house paid off in a couple of months. Never mind that the last time we moved it was so traumatic I told everyone I’d rather be beaten with a stick than to move again EVER. Or that we are too busy taking care of two senior citizens in failing health to make a move, and we’re still trying to settle Sissy’s affairs. We’re doing it anyway, dadgum it. Get this, we’re buying Sissy’s house. I’ll take my straight jacket in a size small please, with brass buckles. And could I have a valium cocktail with that?

We have outgrown our house, and for the last few years we’ve talked about the day we’d buy a bigger home. We always assumed it would be after Mama J. and Papa T. passed away because living next door to them is ideal for taking care of them. In fact, it’s why we bought our house years ago. However, the space issues have really grown increasingly troublesome in the last couple of years. At least once a week I tell Hubby, “One of these days I’m going to have a house big enough so that I don’t bump my ass on the bathroom door every time I turn around in here!” There’s my old standby, “And just where am I supposed to put this? You know if we had a pantry….”
Or the old reliable, “We CAN’T move the bed because it won’t FIT anywhere else!”

Our living room TV is on a lazy Susan so it can be moved to accommodate the one and only furniture layout that will work in that room. I have groceries stacked on garage shelves. There are small cooking appliances I’ve given up because I have no place to put them. The only time of year we can have a party is summer and fall because the deck and backyard is the only place we have room for more than six people in our home at once. We’ve shuffled clothing in and out of storage each season because of too little closet space (thanks in part to my clothing addiction). And on days when school is in session, Teen Angel and I have Ultimate Fighting Matches over the bathroom sink, mirror and electrical outlets. There are times when I literally end up fixing my hair in the living room mirror because she and Hubby have taken over the bathrooms. Don’t tell anyone, but I have made promises to God that involved me getting my own bathroom mirror. And after months of bargaining, He’s finally giving it to me.

About a month ago, Mama J. asked us if we were interested in buying Sissy’s house. We were surprised, and our first reaction was no. It was very difficult for us to be in Sissy’s house after she died. The first few times I walked in there I felt as if she was standing next to me, especially when they were still searching for her body. It was all I could do not to run for the door. Hubby was the same way. Gradually, it got better, but it still wasn’t a comfortable situation. There are some very strong emotions attached to that house. We had a terrible time picking through her belongings and packing up her things. We were still in the midst of packing her stuff when Mama J. approached us about buying the house. We agreed it was a decision we could not make until the house was empty and we had had time to thoroughly think about it.

The house has been empty for about two weeks. In that time, we’ve pondered and debated the pros and cons, wavered back and forth and sought a lot of advice. We’ve been criticized within the family for even considering it since we were not on good terms with Sissy right before she died. We know there are people who will never understand our relationship with her or how we can live there. But the bottom line is this: The house fits our needs perfectly. It’s big enough, but not too big. We can afford it. We can grow old in that house without major renovations, and best of all we can still be close to Mama J. and Papa T. in order to take care of them as we promised them years ago. So, my friends, we are doing it. We’re buying the house. Critics be damned. We’re making this move because it’s the right move for us. The realty sign goes up in our yard this weekend, and the remodeling we want to do to Sissy’s house, I mean our house, begins too.

In the four days since we made this decision, we have talked to a carpenter, a painter, an electrician and the flooring guy is on his way as I’m typing this. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed again. With paint samples, lighting fixtures, furniture and all kinds of other choices that will make me want to pull my hair out in the next several weeks. I’m not sure I have the stamina for this, but I guess I’ll find out. Call us crazy, but we’re moving. During a recession. And a housing slump. And the busiest, most stressful time of our lives. We are doing it. We're excited. And as God is my witness I will never go without my own bathroom mirror again.

Something in the Air

The winds are out of the north today, a colder version of yesterday's breezes. The winds they are a changin', and so are things around here. I'm not sure how, but I think 2009 will bring some changes for the Hula-gen's.

Since 1993 we have lived next door to my in-laws, sharing, caring, sparring and generally watching out for each other. Hubby and I have often talked about how we might buy a newer home or a place with some land "one day", knowing that "one day" meant when we were done taking care of his parents. That time always seemed way off in the future, probably because we didn't want to think about the reality of being done with their care. They will be gone eventually, and that's not something we look forward to although we would like a house with more room to entertain, more closet space and as I often tell Hubby, some bathrooms big enough to turn around in without banging my *#@ on a doorknob. For years we've picked up the monthly real estate magazine and perused it like the J.C. Penney's Wish Book, pondering the pros and cons of different neighborhoods and styles of homes. We've never investigated a particular home, though. What's the point, we thought. However, today I will call about a house that's for sale, and we might even look at it. That's because we know our time next door to Mama J. and Papa T. is growing to a close. We know because Papa's T.'s dementia is getting worse.

It has accelerated somewhat in the last few months, and Friday, he kept asking Mama J. to read the newspaper to him, forgetting that she already had. He also woke up in the middle of the night and wanted something to eat, not realizing what time it was. While he has many moments of clarity, he spends much more time being confused now than he used to, and sometimes he just doesn't know what's going on. He enjoys his books on tape, but he retreats to those headphones to escape any pressures he can't handle. As I pondered this Saturday, I realized that his safety may soon become an issue. If he gets turned around in a dark house at night and tries to get into the van backwards when he takes a car ride, what's to prevent him from going outside and getting lost in the neighborhood? He is sometimes home alone when Mama J. goes to the beauty shop or an appointment. So far, he's been okay, but I think we're nearing the time when he shouldn't be left alone. Hubby thinks I'm worrying about it a little too much. But not much. He knows we've entered a new stage, a stage that's going to bring some hard decisions in the near future. Mama J. knows it, too. She knows she can't keep up with Papa T.'s daily needs anymore. It's wearing her out, even with Hubby's help. Her mobility isn't so hot either. We just don't know how much longer they can live in that house. And when they have to go, they probably won't be going to the same place. Papa T. is going to need much different care than Mama J.. Like I said, some tough decisions are ahead.

I'm not sure how soon we'll have to face them, but I really think it will be in the coming months. And as difficult as that's going to be, we may have to take the lead because none of us really wants to deal with this. We may have to initiate the move by planning our next home. That's why I will call the phone number on the For Sale sign that I jotted down this weekend. We may look at that house. We may not. At least that will get us to talking about it because it's time to take some steps in that direction. I think Mama J. realizes that. She even asked me last night if I had called about the house yet. She tried to sound upbeat about it. She feels the change in the air, too. I suspect that north wind chills her to the bones.

Moving On

Friday
9:30am-Hubby and S. begin drive to Sissy’s condo with moving van.
3:30pm-Hubby and S. arrive at Sissy’s and immediately start packing.
6pm-Try to nap while waiting for Sissy to get to my house. (Sissy’s been at our place for the last few weeks.)
6:05pm-phone rings. Mama J. has a question.
6:15pm-phone rings. Hubby calls with update on progress.
6:30pm-nap isn’t happening. I eat a bologna sandwich and do laundry.
8:30pm-Sissy arrives. Long drive to her house begins.
8:41pm-incessant gossip about the rest of the family
11pm-pull into convenience store for potty break, gas and snack.
11:05pm-compliment bladder on cooperation up to this point
11:10pm-buy large drink
11:15pm-back on the road. More incessant gossip.
1:30am-arrive at Sissy’s to find that Hubby and S. have packed the kitchen and two bathrooms.
1:31am-drop to knees for prayer of thanks that kitchen and two bathrooms are packed.
2am-go to bed.

Saturday
7am-Wake up and jump in clothes.
7:15am-eat Krispy Kreme donut bought at convenience store the night before. Make a note to stick with running schedule next week.
7:25am-start packing.
9am-drink Diet Coke.
10am-scarf down cold piece of pizza Hubby bought the night before.
10:15am-buy more moving boxes at U-Haul. Keep packing.
11am-bang shin on table. Curse loudly. Apologize to child in the room. Look around to see if child’s parents heard me.
11:05pm-gather friends and family to figure out how to move heavy hot tub off patio and into the truck since crack smoking professionals want $700 to move it.
11:10am-tilt hot tub on side. Almost drop on Hula Girl’s head while she’s underneath bracing dolly.
11:12am-roll hot tub end over end to the corner of property.
11:30am-eyeball length of distance between hot tub and moving van parked on the street.
11:31am-decide to heck with picky homeowner’s association and drive moving truck into the backyard creating, gasp, a big, fat rut.
11:52am-maneuver hot tub onto truck lift and into truck.
12pm-hi fives. Drop to knees and weep for joy that hot tub is finally in truck.
12:01pm-drink Diet Coke.
12:05pm-keep packing.
3pm-stop working. Friends go home.
3:15pm-drive dirty selves to Smokey Bones for ribs and cornbread. Make note to add an extra run to next week’s schedule.
4:30pm-stop at Home Depot to rent carpet cleaner.
4:45pm-stop at Target for cleaning supplies and more Diet Coke. Lose Hubby in Target.
5:10pm-back at Sissy’s. Hubby and S. take thirty minute nap while Sissy and me clean.
5:45pm-Hubby and S. wake up and start packing again.
7pm-talk about that great little ice cream shop up the street while cleaning carpet.
8pm-decide to drive to ice cream shop for hot fudge Sundays. Make note to add two extra running days to schedule next week.
8:30pm-eat ice cream and drink Diet Coke.
9pm-change into pajamas and realize over eager friends packed my cosmetic bag in box that is covered up in moving van. Bag includes toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush and facial cleanser.
9:05pm-brush teeth with finger and toothpaste.
9:15pm-climb into bed.

Sunday
7:45am-awake and argue with Hubby that it is not close to 8am when friends are supposed to arrive to help.
8am-realize Hubby is right when doorbell rings. Grab clothes.
8:05am-brush teeth with finger and toothpaste.
8:07am-borrow hairbrush from Sissy who borrowed it from S. because Sissy’s is now missing, too. Try not to think about broken hygiene rules.
8:15am-pour milk on cereal and realize silverware is all packed.
8:16am-dig ice cream spoon out of trash and scrub, scrub, scrub it. Eat cereal.
8:25am-drink Diet Coke.
8:40am-pack suitcase and help load more furniture.
10am-endure lecture from snooty home owner’s association president about rut in yard. Make note to group moon her on the way out of the condo complex.
10:30am-give away bedroom suite to friend because it won’t fit on truck.
10:45am-ice down Diet Cokes for ride home.
10:50am-make final sweep through house.
10:55am-give Sissy a moment alone in her empty house.
11am-pull out of drive. Decide not to moon association president after all.
11:15am-stop at Bob Evan’s for lunch. Lose Hubby in parking lot when he walks to Target next door. Make a note to blow off running next week and start fresh the following week.
12pm-head home.
12:15pm-marvel at how high up you sit when riding in the moving van. Wave at trucker.
12:30pm-laugh at the way Hubby bounces up and down on air seat when we hit bumps.
1:52pm-finish reading book. Crap, here comes boredom.
2:10pm-hum show tunes.
2:40pm-clean out purse.
3:15pm-moisturize lower legs, ankles and hands with lotion sample found in purse.
3:25pm-roll down window because lotion sample stinks.
3:30pm-ask to drive. Get laughed at.
3:45pm-stop for potty break. Compliment bladder on cooperation up to this point.
3:50pm-buy large drink. Look for book to read. Find ceramic rattlesnake but no book. Buy Milk duds. Run? I’ve never heard of running.
4pm-hit the road again.
4:30pm-laugh hysterically at the way Hubby bounces up and down on air seat when we hit bumps. Tick Hubby off.
4:31pm-offer Hubby Milk Dud as peace offering.
5:30pm-curse bladder for lack of cooperation. Decide to tough out the last 50 miles.
5:45pm-pretend like I’m not still nibbling on Milk Duds.
6:15pm-wish we had stopped to potty. Decide to tough out the last few miles.
6:30pm-arrive at Sissy’s new house.
6:31pm-ask if she has toilet paper while running into house.
6:40pm-start unloading truck.
7pm-Sunday school class arrives to help unload. Fall to knees and weep for joy help has arrived.
8:13pm-truck is empty. Class goes home. Hula’s drive up the street to their house.
8:30pm-realize suitcase was unloaded with Sissy’s stuff and have no cosmetics. Hubby goes back to Sissy’s for suitcase.
8:35pm-bew iced tea.
8:45pm-marvel at all the chores Teen Angel has done while we were gone. Fall to knees and weep for joy that we may not be completely incompetent as parents after all.
8:55pm-take shower.
9:05pm-eat bologna sandwiches while sitting in recliners.
9:30pm-discuss plans for returning moving truck.
10pm-brush teeth with real toothbrush and head to bed.
10:10pm-Weep for joy that Sissy…is…finally….home…after…all…these…years…making…all..this…work…worthwhile.

A Moving Fairy Tale

Just ignore the edits in red. The first draft was a little wordy

Once upon a time a 40 something mom the beautiful Queen Hula ruled her kingdom with threats and impatience great wisdom and strength. She was despised adored by her teenaged daughter all and exhausted admired by the rest of the family for her beauty. Her peeps subjects wanted to wear her out honor her for yet another weekend her hard work by having her work her tail off giving her a special gift befitting of a royal leader. They decided to move her sister-in-law on a great spa package from a city five hours away in a nearby kingdom. Mom Queen Hula was numb delighted when she heard the news and hurriedly put her old work clothes favorite pieces of the royal wardrobe into a the first duffle bag she could find hand tooled leather bag. “What a crock of crap wonderful weekend this will be,” she exclaimed. On that Friday afternoon, she took a nap so she could stay awake later paced the floor in anticipation of the ride to the spa. Because she couldn’t get off work had some royal business to attend to, she couldn’t leave for her long a$$ drive spa retreat until that evening. Around 8pm she dragged climbed into her minivan carriage and rode 300 miles the short distance to a big, dirty city the nearby kingdom. In no time at all, she collapsed on the couch was tucked into a soft, downy bed, dreaming of all the crap beauty treatments she would have to load receive the next day.

The following morning she was rolled off the couch awakened by the loud mouth gentle voice of her no-good husband a handsome footman and dragged led from room to room for one chore beauty treatment after another. She scarfed down dined on a Valu Meal six course dinner of nuggets and fries only the finest and most expensive foods before collapsing retiring to her couch private room for a brief nap long slumber. Arising just a few hours later for a quick leisurely breakfast of Krispy Kremes Raspberry crepes, she dressed in her ragged old jeans royal robes and slinked into boarded her minivan carriage for the never ending thrilling ride home.

Back at home the castle, she was glad sorry that her moving experience weekend retreat had ended finally so quickly but groaned basked in the knowledge that she was due back at work the next morning loved and appreciated by all her royal subjects and that she would never get had been given a wonderful gift of rest and relaxation. The end.

Homecoming

Good news! Sissy is moving home. After years of living hours away from us, she is moving up the street from us, and we couldn’t be happier. She signed a contract on a house this weekend and is making arrangements for getting her stuff moved here. We’re so glad she’s coming home. I’m especially glad because it means I get a sister.

I grew up with two brothers whom I love dearly, and that was fine by me. I wouldn’t have appreciated a sister when I was a kid. I didn’t have to fight with anyone over clothes or shoes or boys. I didn’t have to share a bedroom either. I didn’t want a sister until I was grown, so Sissy is the sister I never had in childhood. She and I are a lot alike. We are the same age and like the same stuff. Whenever I buy her Christmas present, I just pick something I would like, and I know it will be fine. We share the same taste in clothes and politics. She hates Rush, and so do I (sorry Janjanmom-I know that stings, but it’s the truth.) We like the same music and have similar tastes in food. As Forrest Gump says we’re like peas and carrots. You also never know what you’re going to get with us, too. When we’re together, the potential for mischief is pretty high.

Yes, this is gonna be fun. I won’t have to beg Hubby to go to Broadway shows at the local performing arts center anymore. Sissy loves the theater. I won’t be the only one ordering something funky off the menu when we eat out, and I’ll have someone else on my team when we start debating health care, education and global warming. Most of all, I’m just glad she’s coming home to stay. They say home is where the heart is, and our hearts are anxious for her to settle in.