Monday, May 29, 2006

The Process of Going From Sanity to Absolute Chaos

Also known as MOVING. Wow!!! What a process. Well, we're settled in Clarkston and wading through piles of millions of cardboard boxes. I love our house. There is so much space and it is not a tin can. Also, it doesn't stink.

Natta did great through the whole thing. I didn't, but I survived. My body is still pretty tired, achy and nauseated from the pregnancy, so moving was a trial, even though I didn't have to do much of the heavy work, thankfully. We had lots of help. I love our friends!! Brian and Kathy, Mike and Shannon and my parents were life savers. They worked their tails off all weekend, some of it in the rain.

U-haul was about as unhelpful as they could be by giving our truck away when we had it reserved, so we were all messed up all weekend. But we got it done at length anyway. Now we can relax and "putter" around till it's all put away. :)

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

First Bath In The New House


The move to the Clarkston house was good in that we're closer to family, and out of the trailer, but it was so hard because I was so sick.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Selling your house

Did you ever realize how weird it is to have total strangers come through your house and look at it? I had someone today come through and they were very nice and very polite, but it's really weird. The look in your closets and see your unmade bed (this group didn't call first) and comment on the place where you live. Sometimes they don't like your paint job. Sometimes they're grouchy. It's very odd. Especialyl when you've lived here for several years like I have. I want people to like my house...like it enough to buy it anyway. But it's really weird showing it to them. I guess when all our stuff is out of here it will be much better.

Monday, May 8, 2006

The Joy of Painting

We get one TV channel. PBS. At 1:00 they show re-runs of Bob Ross's "The Joy of Painting." I think I've watched this show my whole life. I remember being young and watching it with Grandma Crandall. Later, when we had our own TV, I watched it on those occasions when I was home sick from school. I love this show!

Today he'd painting a landscape on a black canvas. I love his simple landscape painting techniques and his soft commentary as he goes along. He paints the "happy little trees" and tells about his little pet squirrel, Peapod. I guess as far as fine art goes, he has a pretty limited technique. But he does so well with it. The guy who paints after him in the 1:30 spot, Jerry Yarnell, is so annoying to watch. He takes all week to make a simple painting and it doesn't even look that great when he's done. Also, he is constantly criticizing his students. It makes him sounds like a stuck-up egomaniac.

So I watch them both, but I certainly enjoy Bob Ross more!

Saturday, May 6, 2006

It brings back memories...

Isn't funny how the simplest things can trigger memories? Since I have been sick, I've eaten an inordinate amout of Ramen. I love the stuff. My tummy keeps it down and it cooks in three minutes. But as I fill the pan with two cups of water, boil, add noodles and set the timer for three minutes, invariably I am transported back to my childhood.

I stand in a tidy kitchen, the window shaded by the tree outside in full summer leaf. Outside, the Lewiston heat beats down, but the house feels cool thanks to an air conditioner. A small girl with curly dark hair stands at the stove, carefully measurinf water into a saucepan. My best friend, Carrie. We are soon to enter the sixth grade. I stand and watch, impressed that her mother allows her to cook something with no one home but the two of us. The water boils and she open a packet of noodles. For us, this has become a daily ritual. The Afternoon Snack. She adds the seasoning and scoops the long noodles into two bowls. We sit together at the table, blowing on the hot soup, chattering away about the upcoming school year, our toys, our families.

The timer rings and I am brought back to present day with a sigh. Little did we know the sorrow that the intervening years would bring, betrayla, hurt, choices. I stir my Ramen absently, still half in the past. Yep, it sure brings memories.