One day about 4 months ago my brother showed up to transform my house. The front room was to become a bedroom, complete with closet. The back of the house was to be opened up into one large room for living purposes. Now I say large but really it's not too large at all as my hacienda was once a store in a little village north of the Tappanzee in NYS. As the years went by it housed an elderly couple for many decades and then younger couple bought the house, did minor updates and moved out, asking a fortune for what it was. I was able to past this hot mess and see the building's potential, bought the place and the conversion slowly began.
My bedoom is all but finished. I have a closet now with recessed lighting and lots of hanging room. I have new windows which open, a major move forward as the house still had the original store shop windows after all of these years. I only need the crown moulding to appear and the door to be finished and viola' ... on to step two.
Only step two will not be taking down the interior walls as I'd hoped. No, instead it will be replacing the ceiling in the dining room. One day about 6 weeks ago I noted that a wall in that room was wet. Then I noted that the ceiling was ready to burst with water. After several drill holes the ceiling drained. And after another visit by my brother the water pipe in the attic was plugged. Meanwhile this fix has become a priority in my life as I'd love to get rid of swiss cheese that pretends to be ceiling board in that room.
Sometimes I look around and think why in hell did you buy this place anyway? You could have bought a real house. Like a building which was residential since it's inception. But what would be the fun of that? It may take another couple years but eventually I will have a little cottage in the 'burg, one that I've designed myself. I'll have french doors and skylights, a place that I can grow old in. And when I'm lying on the sofa, looking toward the sky someday I will see the stars.
I hope.
13 June 2009
11 June 2009
...and the end of civility as we knew it.
What became of respect? Respect for individuals, respect for professionals, respect amongst adults? I have my theories including the need for immediate information, the rise of the internet (darn Al Gore) which provides too much information for many to truly understand and the focus on oneself. It's all about me and I want it now seems to be the new motto.
This week at work the loss of civility was driven home in a big way. On Tuesday a family member approached the desk and started hounding me with questions about his father, questions laced with his favorite word apparently. That word begins with 'f '. As civilly as I could I told said gentleman that I would not be answering any questions about his father's protected health information particularly in light of his own language and behaviors. Instead of being a calming influence on his behaviors my intervention caused this son to escalate to proportions where a security officer in the hospital had to be called. All because a middle aged man couldn't approach the desk and simply ask, "Could you tell me what's going on with my father's tests?"
Later that day I was coming out of a patient's room on one end of a very long hall. At the far end were two middle aged men, outside the ICU. What were they doing? Their behaviors seemed so incongruous to the setting. As I moved closer I noted that arms were flailing, one man had the other in a head lock and legs were going everywhere. My lord the two men were having a fist fight. Like in a bar, or so I'm told. As I neared the scene of the crime I find one man with a moderately severe head laceration, the other with his clothes literally ripped off his back. We soon found out that these two men are brothers, fighting over the care of their elderly mother who is in the Intensive Care Unit. Yes as an elderly woman is struggling for each breath while making her peace with the world her sons are out in the hall beating the crap out of each other.
All because the two could not go together into the lounge and have a peaceful conversation about their mom's situation and how it should be resolved.
Does this lack of common decency come at the price of a society moving too fast to remember the little things? Or is the fact that manners are no longer being taught by either parents at home or teachers in school. Sometimes I think our hectic pace makes it impossible to take the time to be gracious and civil and I long for a time before cell phones and the internet. For simpler times when manners were emphasized.
Yet I fear it's too late much the same as the babble coming out of Sarah Palin's mouth somehow passes for intelligence.
This week at work the loss of civility was driven home in a big way. On Tuesday a family member approached the desk and started hounding me with questions about his father, questions laced with his favorite word apparently. That word begins with 'f '. As civilly as I could I told said gentleman that I would not be answering any questions about his father's protected health information particularly in light of his own language and behaviors. Instead of being a calming influence on his behaviors my intervention caused this son to escalate to proportions where a security officer in the hospital had to be called. All because a middle aged man couldn't approach the desk and simply ask, "Could you tell me what's going on with my father's tests?"
Later that day I was coming out of a patient's room on one end of a very long hall. At the far end were two middle aged men, outside the ICU. What were they doing? Their behaviors seemed so incongruous to the setting. As I moved closer I noted that arms were flailing, one man had the other in a head lock and legs were going everywhere. My lord the two men were having a fist fight. Like in a bar, or so I'm told. As I neared the scene of the crime I find one man with a moderately severe head laceration, the other with his clothes literally ripped off his back. We soon found out that these two men are brothers, fighting over the care of their elderly mother who is in the Intensive Care Unit. Yes as an elderly woman is struggling for each breath while making her peace with the world her sons are out in the hall beating the crap out of each other.
All because the two could not go together into the lounge and have a peaceful conversation about their mom's situation and how it should be resolved.
Does this lack of common decency come at the price of a society moving too fast to remember the little things? Or is the fact that manners are no longer being taught by either parents at home or teachers in school. Sometimes I think our hectic pace makes it impossible to take the time to be gracious and civil and I long for a time before cell phones and the internet. For simpler times when manners were emphasized.
Yet I fear it's too late much the same as the babble coming out of Sarah Palin's mouth somehow passes for intelligence.
06 June 2009
Almost ready
Today I can declare myself almost ready for summer ... garden wise. I planted the containers out front of the house just moments ago with geraniums and impatients and watered the bejesus out of them. One of the planters has sprouted both a sunflower and a couple of pumpkin seeds which I am leaving alone. Can't wait to see what happens there.
And I've planted the sunflowers on the west side of the house along with more pumpkins. Lots more pumpkins. Those seeds have sprouted and are moving right along. There are still some morning glories to go in along the fence near the gate but again, I'm making progress.
Inside the fence I have all of my other pumpkins and sunflowers planted, my raspberries are coming into fruit, my blueberries have green berries. The broccoli is brockling and my peas are growing and blooming. No peas as of yet. The boxwoods I moved are settling in well as are the dwarf spruce , the decorative grasses and my King River White Birch. My kitchen garden has all of it's herbs planted along with a couple of grape tomato plants. And in various spots I have tomato seedlings coming up from last year along with yes, more pumpkins from last year's seeds.
I look around at my tiny yard which still sports too many weeds and realize I've recreated a lot of memories on this little plot of land. White birch, always in a stand on the side of the house my dad built, right outside our bedroom window. spice bush and mountain laurel, seen nightly on our yard tour with mother. Raspberries ... who can forget the raspberries at Grandma M's. We'd pick them for breakfast and eat them with fresh cream. Sunflowers, the fields in bloom as I drove the windy road to my first place when I moved back home to the valley. Pumpkins, how my children and grandchildren love to pick just the right pumpkin.
Yes it seems I am planting a water colour of my life and I am almost ready now to sit down and enjoy it.
And I've planted the sunflowers on the west side of the house along with more pumpkins. Lots more pumpkins. Those seeds have sprouted and are moving right along. There are still some morning glories to go in along the fence near the gate but again, I'm making progress.
Inside the fence I have all of my other pumpkins and sunflowers planted, my raspberries are coming into fruit, my blueberries have green berries. The broccoli is brockling and my peas are growing and blooming. No peas as of yet. The boxwoods I moved are settling in well as are the dwarf spruce , the decorative grasses and my King River White Birch. My kitchen garden has all of it's herbs planted along with a couple of grape tomato plants. And in various spots I have tomato seedlings coming up from last year along with yes, more pumpkins from last year's seeds.
I look around at my tiny yard which still sports too many weeds and realize I've recreated a lot of memories on this little plot of land. White birch, always in a stand on the side of the house my dad built, right outside our bedroom window. spice bush and mountain laurel, seen nightly on our yard tour with mother. Raspberries ... who can forget the raspberries at Grandma M's. We'd pick them for breakfast and eat them with fresh cream. Sunflowers, the fields in bloom as I drove the windy road to my first place when I moved back home to the valley. Pumpkins, how my children and grandchildren love to pick just the right pumpkin.
Yes it seems I am planting a water colour of my life and I am almost ready now to sit down and enjoy it.
05 June 2009
Leave town
So three weeks have passed and on Monday we sent our parents on their way. Our time with them was over and it was time to get back to real life and cherish our memories.
I'd be lying if I said it was an easy time having the parental unit here in the valley. My dad has changed little although his driving skills are a tad scary, especially considering he was heading out on the road with my mother to travel across country to Montana for the summer. Somehow, however, they'd made it here from Arizona so I figure that some diety is looking out for them. My mother is frail and decidedly opinionated. Yet as I looked back over the years of my childhood and early adulthood I realized not much had changed. She still saw children as an entity to be seen and not heard, to be strictly obedient and not emotionally needy, to be accepted but not truly nurtured. That kind of hurts to say aloud but time hadn't changed my parents at all.
The siblings on the East Coast spent many hours with our parents, showing them where we work, taking dad fishing at his favorite spots, looking at gardens with mom and eating, my did we eat. Yet as with all good things on Monday the time had come for the last meal together. And so my sister and I went out to purchase the Last Supper and with a weary smile asked that the baker write on their cake .....
LEAVE TOWN.
And they did. The next day.
I'd be lying if I said it was an easy time having the parental unit here in the valley. My dad has changed little although his driving skills are a tad scary, especially considering he was heading out on the road with my mother to travel across country to Montana for the summer. Somehow, however, they'd made it here from Arizona so I figure that some diety is looking out for them. My mother is frail and decidedly opinionated. Yet as I looked back over the years of my childhood and early adulthood I realized not much had changed. She still saw children as an entity to be seen and not heard, to be strictly obedient and not emotionally needy, to be accepted but not truly nurtured. That kind of hurts to say aloud but time hadn't changed my parents at all.
The siblings on the East Coast spent many hours with our parents, showing them where we work, taking dad fishing at his favorite spots, looking at gardens with mom and eating, my did we eat. Yet as with all good things on Monday the time had come for the last meal together. And so my sister and I went out to purchase the Last Supper and with a weary smile asked that the baker write on their cake .....
LEAVE TOWN.
And they did. The next day.
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