NOVEMBER: NEWVENTURE

It's November!

I'm back in my soon to be "old home", where the radiators are hissing and there is a Hallmark Christmas Special on the TV in the other room. The thing(s) that I will miss the most about this house are the steam radiators.

I might also miss the TV programs; it's the first I've had the TV on all weekend, due to no service and there is no internet hooked up where we've been.

This weekend, my husband and I spent two nights in our "next step" home, aka: "The Cha-Cha House" (dubbed by moi, because it seems "one step forward, two steps back" has been it's nature!) or "Elm Point", as my husband calls it, because on the oldest plot plan we have of it, the odd shaped lot comes to a distinct point smack in the middle of what is now Elm St.

True to it's dance name, we had yet another set back; a clogged septic pipe on Saturday, after the big step forward of the new gas lines, furnace and hotwater heater finally were finished being installed three weeks later than we had expected.

We've started to be afraid "to breathe" each time we step forward. 

But we do. Things could be worse. In the big scheme of life, we have it pretty good. We have worked on this next step house almost every single weekend day and weeknight that we could, since we bought it last December!

It's been tough, but it's been worth it. At least that's what I hope I'll think once we are finally in there full time?!

It's all "relative", isn't it? When things get put into perspective? For instance, speaking of "relatives", my mother died almost 15 months ago. Unlike most who lose their moms to death, I found hers to be a huge relief. I wasn't sad that she had died. In fact, I spent my days working on not resenting her as much as I did at that point of my life. 

It was because I have the best siblings in the world (a point recently validated by observing other families) and because I have the most marvelous friends, that I got through the last years of my mother's life. Of course, I couldn't have survived without my husband, my sons and their wonderful wives.

None of those people need their names listed here, they all know who they are and know how much I appreciate them.

I also learned who either didn't care or was oblivious to the struggles I've been though since March of 2009. It's okay. Everyone has their own life and problems. They might not have known how until my mother died that my siblings and I (because I was, so was my husband) were "on call" 24-7. 

The few moments of relief (Yes, each time I saw there was no voice-mail or message on the answering machine, I would cheer, "YAY!") were used to catch up on our business paperwork and housework.

Our biggest time out was to take an hour and get an ice cream or sometimes visit the local reservoir. It wasn't the ocean, but it was close enough to my mom's nursing home and the view was absolutely breath-taking.

My mom died in August of 2014. Technically, I was still responsible for all of her paperwork until her last taxes were filed in the spring of 2015. This overlapped with the purchase of our next step house, so I had (truth be told: still have) piles of files and folders.

It was a good thing I kept close track of her records, because after she died, one of the physician's billing offices (a huge company) kept sending bills of the same procedure, over and over, after I paid the first one.

It was interesting how they would print them up just a bit differently, so that if a loved one was overwhelmed, it might have been paid several times. Fortunately, I am the queen of copying and cross referencing (to catch my own mistakes) so I phoned right away when the second bill showed up...a few invoices had been marked paid but not all of them. 

After pressing lots of buttons, I ended up speaking with a live rep, who took the information to "pass on" and I took her name, date, time...

When the third bill came, designed just a bit differently, I made copies of my copies. I made copies of the check (of course, always blacking out the account number& my signature) and of the bank statement of when it cleared. 

I wrote a letter, broke it all down, including the phone call and threatened to call a lawyer if we were billed again for the same procedure. I never heard from them again. This still haunts me, wondering how many grieving families are being scammed like this?

So, in perspective, the setbacks with the Cha-cha house are nothing. We should be able to breathe...relatively speaking.

Relatively speaking: I'm finally missing my mother. I don't miss the shell of her, the confused, angry and needy old woman with dementia. I miss my real mother, the one who has seemed to have been gone for years. 

I think I grew a hard shell, myself, when I had to deal with her dementia. That's why all the time years ago, that I  spent helping take care of my husband's dying mom was easier. I wasn't her child, and she had her full mind right up until the night she died, after telling each one of her children that she loved them. I hated her lymphoma, but loved her when she died.

So, here I go again, I've slipped on my life dancing shoes. I'm hoping to be able to breathe again and live each moment without resentment, guilt and fear. I'm hoping to be able to catch up, to socialize without judging or being judged, to listen and laugh and keep hope alive. 

I've had lots of practice now, and even though I'd rather do a two-step, the twist or even the hokey-pokey, I'm pretty good at the Cha-cha-cha!

Peace.

x

IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

Impossible Dream

Last night, I had the best night's sleep that I've had in months. For the first time in such a long time, I remembered one of my dreams!  I used to remember my dreams every morning, when I was younger. 

It's only half past ten in the morning and the memory is already fading. I desperately want to hold on to it. I don't want to forget it, because I don't want to forget the feeling I had in the dream.

I felt content, calm, peaceful and very hopeful in the dream. I haven't felt like that in ages.

Before I forget them, these are the pieces;

My husband and I bought a huge, old house in Lowell, MA.

It was in between other large, old houses. There was a small, narrow driveway that ran parallel to the house and the road, there were thin strips of grass on each side of the driveway.

The house was huge. The ceilings were high. There were lots of rooms. The layout was choppy, but in a good way, because it was a house with that old world charm. I was thinking that it must have been something in it's time. It needed tons of work. I was up for it!

The sun was shining into the windows; it was early morning. When I got down stairs I noticed that a fresh, cool breeze was coming in through each of the huge windows. They were opened all the way up and they all had screens.

I told my husband that I was shocked that he had left all of the downstairs windows open and unlocked all night, that I never even did that in the "safer suburban town" that we've lived in our whole life.

It was just a comment. I wasn't mad. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised!

I explored the rooms and the enclosed, entrance porches of the house. I recall noticing a very tall (maybe 10 feet? I came halfway up to it) grandfather clock made of carved wood. It was in one of the smaller entrance halls between the tall, sunny rooms and the huge, dark front door. I recall thinking how my husband would love restoring that clock. 

I turned to my left and opened a closet door, it was more than just a closet! It was more of a pantry (that needed work). I became more excited and even happier. I was so glad we bought this place.

Somehow, we ended up across the street. A woman was stuck in her yard that was flooding with water, so my husband and I helped her and her small daughter. I told the little girl that if they ever needed help, we lived "over there" and pointed at the house.

As we headed back, I noticed a boat trailer was now in parked our new driveway. I heard the group of guys who left it say to each other "Be careful, we are in immigrant country". 

I tried to run to catch up with them. I was yelling to them that they didn't need to fear immigrants, that their ancestors were also immigrants, who came to this country for a better, safer life. I was trying to yell to them that they left their boat trailer in our driveway, without asking, so they shouldn't be hypocrites.

Then I woke up.

....

I was disappointed because I wanted to return to that dream. I still felt that calm sense of contentment and that hopeful feeling that my husband and I bought a huge old place to restore and live in...even though it was only a dream.

In reality, we've been updating one of the newest houses we've ever bought. It definitely doesn't have any historic details or old world charm. It's not in a city but in a lovely, small town. It's been hard, stressful, tiring, expensive work. We've encountered so many challenges and setbacks, that we often have to try to remember "What were we thinking?"

The nice thing, though, is that in my dream I felt some feelings that have been lost to me for a long time. I hadn't even remembered that those feeling ever even existed. It's the same as how I haven't been remembering my dreams, I had forgotten that I dream at all.

I'm hoping to retrieve that sense of peace and calmness more frequently. It would be wonderful to have that feeling of contentment, while also becoming excited and grateful while I'm awake.

I remember now. It's not just an impossible dream.

September 26, 2015

"Change is in the Air. Can't You Feel it?"

"Change is in the Air. Can't You Feel it?"

I heard a guest speaker on the radio say that when I was driving home a little while ago. They were talking about how wine drinkers vary their types of wine depending upon the season. One of the hosts had just said something about how she's been into the robust, dark reds, lately.

I don't drink alcohol. I especially can't drink wine, it often makes my throat feel like it's closing up and after just a few sips it can give me a painful hangover. But, I like NPR, no matter the subject, so I listened.

The guest speaker's voice sounded so excited and hopeful, that my mind drifted away from the radio to the thought of  "change in the air". 

As everyone knows, this has been one very long, hellish winter. 

Well, "hellish" can't be right the right word, can it?

That would imply "burning hot".

Bitter, bone-chilling, exhausting, or as my word-wise daughter-in-law commented, "This snow has been 'relentless', it feels like it comes and kicks us when we are still down".

Even my snow-loving-winter friends seem a bit worn down this year. The people who used to piss me off by their positive comments about the beauty of snow, the wonders of New England's changing seasons, and "spring is right around the corner" seem to have lost their pep and seem to need a change as much as I do. 

This comes as a disappointing shock to me, the summer-forever-lover.

The generally over confident and hearty Yankee-spirit has been broken. New England is not only full of snowbanks and filthy cars, but of tired eyes with a look of despair peeking out of heads covered in hats, wrapped in layers of wool scarves.

The weather wasn't the only horrible event this winter. Too many of my friends and relatives lost their beloved pets. The flu and stomach bugs seemed violent this year.

It wasn't just ice dams, flat tires, endless driveway shoveling, not to mention roof shoveling, power outages, public transportation breaking down, snowblowers, and plows breaking down, potholes or water pipes and septic systems freezing up (twice for us, in our "Cha-cha" house!!!?) There were events that were far worse, which put the "hellish" winter into perspective...

While experiencing the same winter as we were;

There were friends who's family member had a stroke. Other friends were diagnosed with cancer. Others had major surgery. Some close relatives had a house fire, and there was a horrific tragedy to some close loved ones, who are still trying to piece life back together and live without the nightmarish memory popping up and freezing them in their tracks of their baby steps forward. Life as they knew it changed in an instant.

Knowing tomorrow is the first day of spring, I still was still cynical because I had heard the weather forecast. Even though we've had much lower temperatures over the past few months, the dew point is making the current 30 degrees fahrenheit feels much colder than it has been. The cold seems sharp and it hurts.

But then, as I drove home, learning about wine, for the first time all winter; I heard what sounded like the most genuine and enthusiastically hopeful sounding voice say,

"Change is in the Air. Can't You Feel it?"

Suddenly, I did.

3/19/15

Always Been Great at Math, But Still Doesn't Count?

Always Been Great at Math, But Still Doesn't Count?

After serving my husband and one of our customers hot coffee, this morning, I took out my cell phone and showed the customer our "before and after-so-far" photos of the renovations my husband and I have been making on our new home.

Impressed, he looked at my husband and said, "Wow, that's a lot of work! Did you have any help?"

My husband looked up at me, and before he could reply, I snapped,  "Me! I helped him."

The old man softly laughed and still looking at my husband said, "No, really? Did you do this all yourself?"

Here's the problem:

I spoke up, showing my annoyance in not being taken seriously and listed everything I did.

Everything.

I'm sure my voice had gone up to a high, desperate sounding pitch, you know, the one that could turn into tears any second, because I was in disbelief that AGAIN some (usually old) man, (but not always!) didn't acknowledge me, never mind the fact that I can work as hard or harder than a man.

I don't know if he heard me. He was still looking at my husband.

My husband nodded in agreement, saying something like "Yes, she was my help."

The customer believed him. Then, turned to me and said that he does the same sort of help when he HIRES his carpenter to renovate.

I wonder if I had just been patient enough to wait for my husband to answer, I might have been taken more seriously? Would the customer have believed him when he told him that I was his help?

I doubt it.

****

On a Saturday, a few weeks ago, we went to a big box building store, one of the two that we consider our "homes away from homes". We usually hit these places at night, during the work week. By going then, they are pretty void of customers and have a limited amount of staff on board.That's okay with us, because we know what we are there for.

Since it was a Saturday, the place was full of staff members willing to help the customers. As my husband and I were looking for a particular size of plywood, one such helper came up to us. (A man, not old, probably in his 40s) Even though we both said "No, thank you", he persisted by asking us what we were looking for.

My husband told him, and the helper asked why we needed that size. So, my husband told him about how he had some stainless steel bent for a counter and we how we needed that particular size to fit inside for a base...

The helper faced my husband and talked about how great stainless steel counters are. I spoke up, agreeing, that my husband made one ten years ago and we love it so much we want one in our new home.

The helper NEVER looked at me and continued to ask my husband questions.

I walked away. The guy didn't respect our "No, thank you" to begin with and when he ignored me, I decided he wasn't worth my time.

****

It's not only men who treat me like this. They are just more obvious.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because there were several times that I brought up certain details of importance when we bought our new home, recently.

EVERYONE either ignored or "poo-pooed" them every time I brought them up.

Then, as the deadline approached, each one of the issues that I had brought up, so much earlier in the process, came up as if they had never been mentioned before. No one seemed to believe me when told them that I had requested that info, to the point where I started to doubt myself...

...But, that's where keeping each and every piece of paperwork and saving every email gave me back my confidence to trust my instinct and my memory!

****

Over the years, even some servers at restaurants have treated me like chopped liver. They had no clue that I am usually always the one who carries the cash and leaves the tip.

One night out in particular, comes to mind. I recall it only because of how invisible and neglected I felt. My husband and I went out to a famous steak house that doesn't exist anymore with my good friend and her husband.

We were taking them out, it was our treat. So, I had all of the cash. They were tall and expensively dressed. We were more modestly dressed. We were seated in a booth, so because my husband is left handed, he went in first. He sat across from my friend, I sat across from her husband.

The server (which were called waitresses back then) immediately aimed her attention to them (mostly at the husband) . They knew what they wanted, they went there often and ordered a lot. My husband asked questions, she was very nice (almost flirty) to him. When I ordered my food, I wasn't even sure she heard me.

It was a long night, lots of drinks for the drinkers (I'm not one), lots of food for the big eaters, (I'm not one), and yet for some reason, it was my meal that didn't show up on time and I insisted everyone start eating," don't let it get cold". She forgot my coffee at dessert time. In the end, I had to ask my friend's husband to ask her for my coffee, and it then came right away, as she apologized, to him!

Then, out came the check. As she started to hand it to my friend's husband, I was the loudest that I had been the entire evening, and reached for it saying (with a huge smile) "It's our treat, tonight!"

It was the first time, I think, that the server even noticed me. Her face looked stunned. She had sucked up to the person who appeared to have money (more like spend?) and she had been using her flirtations on the wrong person...She judged the book by his leather jacket instead of treating every customer like they were important.

She lucked out. If he had paid, she would have gotten a low tip from him to begin with, because he was (probably still is) a selfish, cheap tipper. It would have been a lot of 'suck up' wasted. She was just a servant to him.

Instead, she got me, a former waitress, who knows how hard it is to serve food and she was tipped very well.

As I handed the bill and a tip (much bigger than she deserved, 25%+) to her, I looked into her worried eyes, smiled and gently said, "Thank you for a memorable evening".

*****

At 58, I've become more observant of when I speak, and whether it's acknowledged or not. Or even if it's heard at all.

I sadly think it's because I'm a woman who was brought up to be polite, respectful, to not be selfish and to always put others first.  I grew up to be the "perfect woman"; steadfast, reliable and counted on.

Just like the doormat in our sunporch.

No one really notices it, but everyone uses it.

This is not uncommon. In general, most woman are not taken seriously by men and even worse, by other women. It's 2015, and it's time to change.

Pay attention when someone speaks. Even if it's not a man. Especially if it's not a man speaking. Even if it isn't something you agree on. That's when it's most important to listen.

Those words might be the most important words you'll ever hear. At least they might be to the speaker of them.

For if you don't, she might just walk away from you, because you made her feel her feel invisible, she might decide you aren't worth her time.

2/9/2015