The Great Remodel part 1

  Twenty two years ago my husband and I bought an old farm house that was built in the mid eighteen-nineties. It was a scary looking old house and needed a lot of work.
   We moved in the bitter cold of January. With a couch and a few mattresses to toss on the floor for the kids we called it home. I quickly learned to build fires in the wood stove to keep the frost from forming on the inside of the windows. I remember the day I discovered Presto Logs, no more chopping and loading dirty wood into the house, no more bringing in bugs or thawing out frozen yellow jackets that were hiding in the wood for the winter. I would simply take my Buick to the local feed store and load my trunk up with logs until my front tires barely touch the pavement.
    The house also came with a few undesirables. I first discovered the rat when we met face to face in my kitchen. He screeched and ran into the pantry while I screamed and ran into the living room. I hopped onto my couch and did a little shiver dance. I calmed myself down, took up my trusty fire poker and set off to look for the rat hole. I found it in the pantry floor and I nailed a canning lid over it, problem solved.
    Keeping the mice out was a little more tricky. I sat on the couch and watched them play by the warmth of the fire while I was completely frozen in fear. I spent the whole next day filling every crack and crevice I could find with my can of liquid spray insulation. 
It worked pretty good until I used it on the door jams, the insulation swelled so much it pushed the jam out and we couldn't get the door closed, boy was I in trouble, it took my husband hours to dig it all out. (problem solved, sorry honey).
 The first major part of our remodel was to add to the second story. The plan was that my husband framed the wall and my oldest daughter and I were to hold it in place while he nailed it off. I have never been so scared in my life. Holding on to a thousand pound wall on the second floor with a thirteen year old girl did not go over well with either of us. I have never dug my nails in so deep or stretched my body to such lengths as I did that day.
  After nailing the upstairs floor perfectly in place so it wouldn't squeak we discovered that a cat had gotten between the floor boards the night before and gave birth to kittens. She was nicely sealed into our squeak-free floor and it took hours of floor removal to get little the family safely out.

Right writing, Am I an Author Yet?

   Exactly one year ago I retired from teaching with aspirations of becoming a published author. I really had no idea of what I was getting myself into. I was sure that I was going to write the most thought provoking, meaningful devotional book on the market today.
   Well, like any person that starts an adventure without a map or a plan, I've hit a few curbs. I had no idea that English was not my first language and when  my editor friends sent most of my work to "sleep with the fishes", I had to remember the words of  Vito Corleone-" Its not personal its business."
     Assembling all those inspirational thoughts to make sense was like putting a blank puzzle together and you decide what the picture will look like. I usually get my inspiration at the most inconvenient times too. I'm either driving down the road, or its three in the morning when I'm staggering back from the bathroom or my favorite time is when I'm in the shower.
   These thoughts are all written out on things like old napkins, used envelopes, my bathroom mirror or tiny pieces of torn paper.
   I wasn't prepared for all the questions people ask either. What's your platform? Have you written a synopsis? Have you put together a manuscript? What about a writers page? Who's your editor? Do you have an agent? When will your book be published? To all these questions there is a long pause as I figure it all out in my head, my usual answer is "um."
   My routine is in need of a little tweaking too. I usually sit, blank faced in front of the computer and pray for something to flow from my brain to my fingers. After about ten minutes Facebook, Pintrest or Travelocity get the best of me and I am completely sidetracked.
  Writing is not as glamorous or as easy as I thought it would be but I do love it and look forward to the day I see my book on the bookshelf at the local library.


This is my chosen official Author picture, don' I look official?     This is how the process really looks.

Monday morning stroll

    I had to drop my car off at the mechanics recently and I decided to walk the mile and a half home. As I was getting in my car, I noticed my walking pole hanging on the wall. My sole motivation when I bought the poles was the ad said they would burn twenty percent more calories than walking without them, to me that was a no-brainer.
   I hesitated throwing the poles in my car because I just feel so silly when I use them. I imagine people pointing and saying, "poor mixed up lady lost her skis." To make things worse, I attached a small boat air horn to one of the poles in case I might encounter someone's rabid dog, or a cougar, or maybe I'll get lost and have to signal someone as to my where abouts. (yes, my mind really does think this way)
   I hopped in my car and headed down the road. I noticed my car thermometer said it was thirty-two degrees outside and I began regretting my decision to walk home. When I pulled into the mechanics parking lot I gave myself a little pep talk, put on my gloves, zipped up my coat, pulled out the poles and began the journey home.
  Within the first block I encountered a large group of curious onlookers. There where about ten people waiting for the city bus and they all watched me, eyes wide in wonder, as I walked past clikkity clacking, poles in hand. I simply looked straight ahead hoping my frozen ears would not break off my head before I got home.
   A little further down the road I walked past at an elderly man who asked if it was cold enough to ski. I knew it! I look like that crazy lady after all!
   Feeling totally embarrassed I put my head down and picked up my pace. I decided to cut through the park and was clipping right along when I stepped on the little wooden bridge that was covered in ice.
   Once my feet hit that ice I was sucking air and skiing like no bodies business. I know it was only about eight feet but, I could have gone for the gold. I was never so glad to have those walking poles in my life. When it was all over, I quickly looked around to see if any one noticed. I was proud and embarrassed all at the same time. I finished my walk home a bit shaken, ears still attached and proudly sporting my bright red walking poles.

Meet Rick still the cute, chubby, blond baby.

  I fell in love with this little guy from the moment my mom brought him home from the hospital. I was four years old and though he replaced me as the baby, he was so sweet, I didn't care. We connected from the start and he has been my best friend even into adulthood. I remember my mom called him her little Toe Head and I was mortified! How dare she compare my baby to someone's ugly old toe! It wasn't until I was an adult that I knew what she meant, I decided to forgive her then.
   Rick was a little accident prone growing up and he bares the scars of proof. I think it might have something to do with having five older siblings, we did some pretty stupid stuff and because he always tagged along he was the one that got hurt. I remember like it was yesterday Dave, Chuck and I watched him tumble down a flight of stairs like a chubby white sack of potatoes. Boy did we know we were in trouble! He is also the reason there are those "Do not climb" stickers on the industrial garbage cans, he was doing just that and it flipped and crushed him. We almost lost him that time, but the up side is he has a terrific scar that runs down the full length of his belly and turns a beautiful shade of purple when its cold. (your welcome Rick)
  When he entered his teen years he became one of those long haired, ear pierced, head banging teens that wore muscle pants, tank tops, high top tennis shoes and drove fast cars. I on the other hand was like June Cleaver, married and raising a family. Even though we were worlds apart we were still close and he graciously accepted the Mickey Mouse name plate I sent him for his seventeenth birthday.
Now that Rick is grown I still call this six foot four inch man, my "little" brother. He moves pretty fast for being so tall, just flick a spider on him and you will be amazed.
 He is a superior tile man, creative and  hard working. ( I have benefitted from this, thanks Rick)
    Let me just say, I love spending time with Rick. We laugh uncontrollably, tearing up and sounding like wheezy old men over nothing in particular. He is by far the most generous person I know and he genuinely cares for others. His whole family has benefitted from this. He is the perfect ending to this group of fabulous men, I know we would all agree on this.

  This is my favorite picture, best buds forever.              A few more for fun
  

Meet Dave, The Artistic Buddy

   Closest to me in age, Dave was the perfect play mate. He is only a year older than me but if you ask him he will tell you it is actually thirteen months.
   We were definitely partners in crime and had loads of fun. He, of coarse, was always Godzilla and I was the screaming Japanese running down the road. He was The Creature from The Black Lagoon and I was the helpless swimmer in the neighbors pool. We made blanket forts, danced to Frankie Valley and the Four Seasons in the living room (he was the king of the double arm swing and the white man overbite), we tore up the neighborhood in our black boot, steel wheeled roller skates, and I fit perfectly on the handle bars of our super boss bike with the banana seat and twenty six inch sissy bar.
    He has this great finesse with kids, they absolutely love him. Having seven kids himself, I know there were plenty of fun times building Lego villages, playing video games, and wrestling on the floor. He's really just a big kid at heart and his kindness and broad smile draws those little people to him. 
    Dave has always been great at drawing and entertained us with his action hero comic strips as we grew up. Little did we know this fun entertainment would develop and he is now a very talented artist.
   Having such a fun play friend growing up makes me wish the years did not fly by so fast. Maybe someday, with the curtains closed, we can put the vinyl on the hi-fi, crank up the volume and dance to Big Girls Don't Cry, till the sun comes up. That would be so BOSS.




This is the suave Dave of olden days, nice pose right?

 

 This is the Dave I know today, hmmm, is that because of seven kids?

 

                                                                                           

Here's a little artistic example.

 
 

 The Family, hmmm, where is Anna Lisa?

Meet fabulous number three, Chuck the fearless adventurer.

   Let me introduce you to Chuck, the most adventurous of us all. For as far back as I can remember he has always been the "cool" brother. Being a student of life, he has traveled all over the world. From digging up fossils at archeological digs in Australia, sun bathing on the sands of Italy, riding  camels in Egypt and going "walk about" in the forests of Tasmania, he is a mixture of Indiana Jones, Bruce Lee and Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon.
   He is the one who opened the door to our family genealogy, going back hundreds of years only to find out our family tree lost branches somewhere along the line. There was only a "family trunk" for a number of years, that explains a lot.
  Chuck has always been a romantic at heart and even writes poetry. Just this year he found out he could paint, he is a fantastic artist. Chuck loves to laugh and when he does, it fills the entire room. He never shrinks away from the opportunity to play a practical joke and he can take just as much as he can dish out. I have put shaving cream in his tooth paste, tooth paste in his Oreos, and set his alarm so he gets ready for work at two a.m. instead of six a.m. and he thought I was pretty funny. Maybe not at the time but I'm sure he laughs now.
   I have to say he holds a good chunk of my heart and we will always be friends as well as siblings.
He can eat more than anyone I know and still look- well you can see for yourself. This can be quite infuriating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meet number two- Kar Krazy Ken

Second in line of the fabulous five is my brother Ken. The only way I can think of to describe him is " tough as nails, soft as butter."  He left  home at the age of fourteen, and we often wondered if he would make it to twenty. To say he is a bit of a dare devil is putting it mildly. For as long as I can remember he loves cars and he loves driving fast. I learned early on that if he offered me a ride anywhere to respond "NO thank you,  I choose life." He is a very talented mechanic and could probably tear apart and reassembled a car blindfolded.  I've spent most my life scratching my head at his antics and  not understanding his need for speed. I'm not sure what the count is to date but he has had more than his share of crashes and survived them unscathed.  Proof of his lifetime passion is seen in his scarred up knuckels and his permanently greasy fingernails. As a young girl I watched him do amazing things like open beer bottles with his teeth and tattoo his own body with a needle, thread and a bottle of Indigo ink. when you get past the exasperating rough and tumble, you see the soft, butter side. As tough as he is, he harbors no shame in crying at a movie or sappy commercials.  He loves his family dearly and would be first in line at our  defense. I dont know how many times I have felt like slapping him silly only to have my heart melted when, with  tears in his eyes, he says," I love ya sis." It can be quite frustrating. I have to admit I spend a lot more time praying for him than I used to. He loves to laugh and generally loves life, but its certainly on his terms.