Rinse and Repeat

Life. Rinse and repeat daily. Maintenance. Redo what you just did yesterday. Routine. Same old, same old. I have a love/hate relationship with each of the above.

On one hand, I thrive on routine. I love my little ruts and I feel a little resentful when I'm forced to carve out a new one. I love the "known". I crave the little reward system I have created within my small little world.

It has been over two years since I started leaving our home to earn a living. The shock of that change of life was softened by a year of running out to Mom's. The drive, the solitude and knowing Mom was there saved me from myself during that year of transition.

The second year? Not so great. I missed Mom. I missed my regular road trips. I missed everything the prior year brought into my world. I had to create a new rut and I didn't like it. Not one little bit.

I'm well into my third year of change and I'm finally rolling with it. I'm sad to say, at the ripe old age of 58, I live for my weekends. But I do. I like what I do but I love being home more. I'm doing this. And it's okay.

I allowed myself a weekend to recreate the past. I literally packed my suitcase as I got dressed one Friday morning and brought it upstairs with me. I sent out a few messages into the universe and was urged to move forward with my last minute plan to flee the city. Breaking out of the deep rut I had carved out for myself was life affirming.

I tossed my suitcase into the trunk of my car and didn't come home from work that day. I felt slightly rebellious but mostly, I felt liberated and free.

Maintenance. Whew! That word is a paragraph unto itself.

We have created a home that requires daily maintenance. Not only do I have to wake up, dehair/make my bed and clean cat litter every morning, we now have a house that requires a daily mopping up of said cat hair.

I have a love/hate relationship with this cat hair. I love the cats it belongs to. I hate having it floating about the house aimlessly, without wall-to-wall carpeting to attract and hold onto it for a later date. BUT (now, this is the surprising part), I DO like waking up to a clean house each morning. I despise the cleaning aspect of this job but I do appreciate its rewards.

Speaking of which, if I plan to de-hair the house of cat hair which has accumulated on the laminate floors before I head off to work, I must stop writing.

I have to hop out of my writing rut, into my cleaning rut, then head off to a day at the office, so I can come home, rinse and repeat, then do it all over again tomorrow.

Finishing Touches

I have been waiting for this moment since the beginning of our renovation. The part where I add my own personal touch, a bit of color, a hint of practicality and invite family in for the weekend.

#1 - I have been searching for new chair cushions and place mats for what feels like months. Today, I took the plunge. Black and dark grey. No surprise there. But my Youngest walked in and said the black looked good with the wood table and brought everything together. I call that a win.

#2 - A splash of color and a soap dispenser. Sitting in a different chair a few evenings ago, I noticed how out of place my off-the-grocery-store-shelf-and-into-our-home soap dispenser looked. I found this cool brushed chrome one on sale. Add my 20% off coupon and it still was highly over priced. But I figured the kitchen was worth it. A dash of red and I was good to go. I could have bought a red kettle and a red toaster but since both of those items are stored away neatly in the cupboards, there was no need. I saved enough money there, to more than cover my extravagant soap dispenser. Another win!

#3 - Dining room chairs which will normally reside in the den and/or a bedroom will provide extra seating for times when more than "four" are visiting in the living room. The end tables were cheap and the fold-up storage/coffee table makes for a soft place to rest your heels when you kick back and relax. We could certainly use a dash of color in the living room but I swapped out the old, worn cushions for some others we had on hand. I call this room good-enough-for-now. The walls are barren and this room lacks personality at the moment. But it is a very cozy, conversational room. I can't wait to put this to use. 

#4 - I can still sleep the same number of guest in our 2 bedroom, 1 den main floor, than I could in our 3 bedrooms upstairs. I cringed at putting two beds in one room but after I moved the chest of drawers into the closet, there was plenty of room and it looks just fine. Matching quilts in for the save.

Yes, I'm expecting sleep over guests this upcoming weekend. Bring it on! I'm ready!!

Jet was pleased with the arrival of a new box to investigate. Unfortunately, you can see he gave up the box to initiate the new chair. Cat hair will be everywhere. Again (still).

Clearing a Path - Making Room For Change

I ordered a book today. Actually, I ordered two. Two identical books because I have a feeling this book will be too good to keep to myself. The book? "The Path Made Clear: Discovering Your Life's Direction and Purpose", by Oprah Winfrey.

In this life of mine, I have a few regrets. One of them being, that I didn't go to see Oprah when she came to Our Fair City to speak several years ago. A friend went and shared her enthusiasm over Oprah's talk. I remember little of what my friend said but I clearly remember her enthusiasm as she relayed the inspirational words Oprah spoke and instant regret, that I hadn't gone.

Today, I learned Oprah has a new book. The table of contents alone, have captured my interest and I can't wait to sit in a sunbeam and soak up this book. "The Path Made Clear ..." sounds like it may be exactly what I am looking for.

Life is ever evolving. I find myself going with the flow of it at times, questioning it at others and wanting to live a purposeful life. Some days I think I'm on the right track, other days feel like I'm running on a hamster wheel going no where. 

I am not making any plans to change the course I'm presently on but I certainly wouldn't mind looking up and beyond this moment in time and look towards the future. I want to listen to the whispers of my mind, plant seeds, nurture that which I want to grow and steer my life in a direction that excites me. 

Housecleaning is certainly not at the top of that list. Been there, done that, wish I didn't have to do it all again tomorrow. But maybe since I have tended to some of my household cleaning, I have literally created a clear path to sit still and hear the whispers of my mind.

Housecleaning - What a Waste of a Sunday

Let the record show that our house was clean at precisely 4:20 p.m, Sunday, March 31, 2019. It may never be this clean again. This main floor laminate may be the death of me.

I vacuumed the upstairs quickly last night before company dropped by. It wasn't a thorough job (walls, doors and baseboards were not part of last night's quick clean), so before I washed down the floor today I had to re-vacuum and fine tune the job.

While I vacuumed, I started washing sheets. My sheets, the guest room #1 sheets and sheets from guest room #2's two beds. These beds had been clean but the cats have been sleeping on the beds, atop the blankets and/or under the blankets. Cat hair was everywhere. Quilts were washed and/or vacuumed.

While the bedding was being washed, I washed floors.

A very helpful salesperson recommended a floor cleaner and advised me to mix it 50% cleaner and 50% water. I hoped this diluted solution would be the ideal mix so I wouldn't have to rinse the floors after they were washed.

I was not so lucky. Not only did the cleaner leave a slightly sticky film, the scent was overwhelming.

While the floors dried and aired out a bit, I washed the outside of the living room and kitchen windows. I was afraid my window washing may end up more of a window smearing so I stopped and started with the living room and kitchen.

I hoped while I was out window washing, the slightly sticky and overly perfumed floors would dry and all scent and film would be gone by the time I came back inside. This didn't happen but I went into denial and thought I would just leave said floors alone. It would be okay. It was probably just my socks that had picked up the film and scent, right?

Wrong.

I have just finished rinsing all of the floors I previously washed (upstairs and down), with water and vinegar. Surely to goodness this will be good enough. I hope I find some cleaning shortcuts as I go along. If I don't, our cats may have to go.

The windows turned out just fine. What cleanser is the winner of the day? Vinegar and water.

Our house may never be this clean again. I just want it to be known that as of this moment in time, it WAS clean. Please excuse me while I sit and stare at the cleanliness for what remains of the day.

Obviously, I'm not cooking tonight. One can't be expected to clean AND cook too.

He Would Have Been 94

It's Dad's birthday today. It feels impossible to think he would have been 94 years old. We lost the essence of him before he reached his 58th birthday.

Whispers of the memory of Dad still come to the surface but it is all pretty repetitive stuff. Memories I've recalled on many occasions, stories relayed by his brothers, family and friends. It's all comforting and familiar.

This week, my aunt mentioned my uncle (Dad's brother) used to mark his tools with four marks, which signified his birth order in the family. The minute she said this, I recalled my brother mentioning Dad marked his tools with (was it??) two lines or marks of some sort.

Did I remember this correctly? Was it two notches? He was the second oldest in the family so it makes perfect sense.

It is just a little unknown fact that was revealed to me. It was an unexpected gift on an regular, ordinary day.

I recall a little memory of Dad that came to me in and around the time of this conversation. It was a long, forgotten memory that was nudged to the surface. I can't put my finger on what it was right now but it was another "touched by an angel" kind of moment. Just a small gift when I least expected it.

I'm so grateful to live a life where I'm in a position to be around people who knew Mom and Dad before I existed and speak the language of family, friends/neighbors and stories I've heard all my life.

I knew I was "coming home" when I moved my young family out here after Dad died. I had hopes and dreams of knowing the family I came from but had no idea how that would come to be.

It has been a slow and gradual process. Collecting our family's memories has been a gift which has kept on giving. I became grounded as I came to know both Mom and Dad's family and continue to feel like a vital part of our extended family.

I read this (slightly paraphrased) yesterday:

"If we build our lives on shaky foundations, we should not be surprised when things start collapsing."

The words resonated somewhere deep within me. I started building a firm foundation for my little family when we moved out here. This foundation has been shaken but it has never faltered. And it has only gotten stronger throughout the years.

Nestled in this house I like to call home, living in and among family, I feel so very deeply rooted that I feel I could weather most any storm. When little rays of light shine unexpectedly shine through a day and I'm gifted with a renewed memory of Mom or Dad, I marvel at the good fortune to be living a life I truly meant I was meant to live.

I rebuilt a home on a foundation of family, history and stability. I felt Dad's nod of approval as I made this move 31 years ago and I still his essence within me, my thoughts and beyond.

Happy Birthday, Dad. Thank you for being who you were, leading a good, honorable life which was built on a foundation solid enough to build a family unit which is so united. I'm so grateful to be known as your daughter.

I Needed to Know I Tried

I woke up with thoughts of an irreparable relationship on my mind.

I had recently made a half hearted attempt to step through the past and simply move forward from where we are today. It didn't work.

"I tried." Those were the words I wrote down before I fell asleep last night. I tried.

 When I awoke, those very words were still speaking to me. Had I tried hard enough before everything fell into a state of disrepair? I truly believe I did.

I have held onto an envelope full of "evidence" I have never looked at since this relationship fell apart the final time. This morning, for the first time since I tucked that written correspondence away, I am tempted to reread the contents.

That broken relationship runs through my mind a lot these days.

"There are two sides to every story", I remind people as I relate the tales of my past. I am accountable for my actions. There were two people involved. Both parties were hurt. Innocent parties were hurt. I walked away for the sake of my children and I know in my heart of hearts I did the right thing. I know this. I believe this. I did what I had to do.

But out there, lies someone who is terminally ill. Their days are numbered. I find myself wondering what is going through their mind as they live their final days. I don't profess to know much, if anything, about their life after "us", but I used to know this person well. I just wanted to remind him we made many happy memories together. I loved him as much as knew how at the time. His life made a difference.

It is something I think I would appreciate hearing as my days wound down to a close. I just wanted to "do unto others"...

Out there, is a family who is wounded. I can't begin to imagine the walk they are walking. Everyone handles their pain differently. I believe I am a stranger to their brand of hurt but as a parent, I can only imagine ...

I simply wanted to offer to sit still with them as they feel, live and walk through this time. I'm the last person in the world they want to see but I feel responsible for my part in the past and I had hoped to offer my presence.

I am the wrong person, at the wrong time. But I tried.

The energy of the world knew what I needed before I needed it. I was just about to come home from my day and sit still with my thoughts when another person from another relationship from another time called out and invited me to go for coffee.

This too, was a broken relationship from years gone by. Again, there are two sides to this story. I did my fair share of damage to this relationship. We parted ways but despite the hurt, anger and heart ache we stayed connected throughout the years.

There are two sides to every story.

I am grateful for a parallel story which reminds me that it does take two people to make or break a relationship. Before, during and after. I'm grateful for the reminder that although I am responsible for my side of what went wrong within "us", I'm just as responsible for what has gone right.

I needed to be reminded of this. I am grateful.

I needed to know I have tried. I did. It is time to set this free.

Trusting the Pause

The long wait for our new front door continues. The door and all options pertaining to said door have been chosen. At last.

As frustrated as I felt at the delay over something that could have been ordered, installed and paid for by now, I had to talk myself down and remind myself to trust the pause.

If I had forged ahead with the initial estimate, the professional door installers most likely would not have tended to installing the baseboards and trim that is already on hand. They definitely wouldn't have included painting the door as an added part of their service.

If I had acted more quickly, the bill would have been due and payable by now.

I'm searching my brain for more "pros" for this delay but I'm coming up empty. The old front door (and a sliding door which could have and should have been replaced) is all I can see within this freshly redone main floor.

Isn't that always the case? It matters not how many things have been crossed off the to-do-list, because the list is so short right now, all I can see is that which is left to be done. Which is pretty very minimal, all things considered.

Perhaps this delay will unveil a few more tasks I can ask my handy dandy reno guy to tend to while he is already here. It may cost a little more than the door and door alone but I am pretty sure when all is said and done, I will be grateful for the delay.

When things don't unfold in a manner in which you hope, trust the pause. Trust there is a purpose to putting your dreams on hold.

Looking at life backwards, I have always found delays are well worth the wait.