Sarge

Here is a sweet, young English Setter boy, Sarge.  He was about 3-4 months old. He had a two day trip to a foster home helped from Birmingham Al to Columbia MD from a variety of volunteers. I drove down to South Hill to pick him up and delivered him to exit 104 on 95 for the balance of his trek northward. 

It has been so long since I've seen an ES puppy.  He was about the same age as when we got Lucy (my avatar).  He was a jaunty little boy looking for things to chew on.  Thankfully I had a rope pull, and his 'stuff' had rawhide chews in it.

He was curious and took a little while to settle down.  I gave him a one handed body massage which resulted in his finally




settling down and going to sleep.  He was well mannered, and did his #1 and #2 outside of the car.  I did a transport no-no and fed him in route.  His insatiable chewing and restlessness made me think that he was hungry.  He was after all a puppy.

It was a lovely day to drive.  I met Iggy and his wife down in South Hill.  They are internet friends (who I met through Slope of Hope) who I asked if they could lend a hand when it looked like the run would not fill for the NC - VA leg.  Iggy said yes without hesitation.  He and his wife have helped these setters out before, and became involved with dog rescue.  I'm grateful for their generosity.  It was truly good to see them both.

On the northbound end of my trip, David was taking the northbound run.  Coming out of Alexandria and coming down to Richmond is tough traffic!  He got caught in standstill I-95 traffic.  I drove 20 miles further north than our appointed stop.  There was no sense in sitting and waiting when I could be driving...and we stayed on time.  It was wonderful to meet him---and Sarge happily went with him.  Later on that evening, Sarge ended in his foster home.

It felt good to help the little guy along the way.














Stuff

I've been busy with client work and my RL home project.  My SR project remains on the market. With quick sales on my other two projects, this one languishing.  I've been reducing the price--I think that the initial guidance that I was given was too high.   It is a good lesson in being more judicious in price setting.  I need to sell my SR project before I buy another as I have a fair amount of money tied up in two projects. 
The RL project is progressing nicely.  The window in the picture to the left was a 4 week lead time from the Anderson factory.  It is a key component of the master bedroom expansion where we reclaimed a screened porch for additional bedroom space.

When 'it' arrived, my contractor called leading off with the dreaded, "I've got bad news."  All sphincters seized up.... "They ordered the wrong window. The size is wrong.  The color is wrong."  Well, I knew that 'they' (meaning the builder supply) did not order the wrong window, because due to the lead times and my belief that customers need to check what their suppliers are doing, I had reviewed the order carefully.    Accordingly, I knew that it was not an order mistake, but a delivery mistake on someone's part.

A bustle of activity--checking, calling, fussing, etc.--yielded the conclusion that the mistake was not on the part of our supplier, but by Anderson.   A misplaced sticker on our window and a Tennessee-bound window produced windows switched at birth.  I was in unwelcome possession of the Tennessean window and the same for them except it was a Virginian window.  An expensive mistake for the factory, and for me--tick!  tock!  Time is money.

Thankfully the mistake was a sticker v. a manufacturing error.  Both windows were switched, and it is now installed safely.  It was pouring down raining when it was installed and it took 6 people to set it in place.  All the sphincters were clenched again.  I could envision my window slipping through the wet grasps of guys on ladders and hurdling downward.  But testosterone and skill prevailed over my worst fears.

While waiting for insulation and drywall for the interior of the addition, the time was field with the laying down of the floor in the basement.  We pulled up Berber carpet, and put down engineered hardwood.  I'm not a fan of carpet in basements (or any place else for that matter--but we are replacing the existing carpet in the main floor bedrooms).  It's a lovely basement, with 9 foot ceilings, two bedrooms, 1 & 1/2 baths and lots of living space.  My son and Herb are doing this work.  We have another 1300 sqf of this to run in the upstairs expansion space.

I found a lovely Robina red oak engineered hardwood at Wood Floors Plus in  a 1/2" x 3 1/2" plank which is paired with the DVR Floor Muffler (the green rolls that you see).  Wood Floors plus is my go-to supplier.  I find better pricing on quality products there than the 'other' flooring store.  The Robina species is a discontinued product which does not make it unfit--just well-priced.  If you find a flooring that you like, make sure that you get your measurements right--because once it is gone, it is gone.

My electrician (husbando) is working today for 1/2 a day hanging a couple of cool ceiling fans in the upstairs and completing the final wiring needed to get the upstairs heat pump in operation.   The upstairs is turning out beautifully.  The drywallers did an outstanding job making all of the funky roof lines come together well.  However, there are two LARGE squeaks in the floor that have to be fixed before we start laying floor up there. 

My goal is to be done by the end of the month!






Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all.  My mother has been gone for 23.5 years now.  She lived to see 2 granddaughters, though a third granddaughter was born just before she died.  She never met her grandson, and I sorely missed her during my pregnancy and birth.  I regret that she did not see the fruition of my own motherhood through the raising of two children, now adults  Though she could not see that, I did end up with a second mother who was as much a mother to me and a grandmother to my own two children as my own would have been.  I surely was twice blessed with mothers.

To be a mother is also a blessing.  "Motherhood" is an inauguration into the great mysteries of life.  Though giving birth is nothing short of commonplace, when you find yourself incubating a life inside of you, the commonplace becomes miraculous. And like all miracles, the emotions of wonder and fear exist side by side.  That our bodies are a portal to life is wondrous. The intensity of pushing out a new life to greet the world likely mimics the birth of the cosmos.

The baby is our universe.  And like all things pushed into the universe, the space between mother and child ever expands until the child is an adult.  But we are always tethered to our children by our love.  In that intervening time, we mothers give our unconditional love (in healthy family situations) to our children and guide them to develop into their own person.

Some years ago, I read in Khalil Gilbran's The Prophet, the following:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They came through you but not from you and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
I believe that to be true.  It was not so clear at times how I was helping my children be true to their "self" v. my ideals.  How to know when you are wresting the steering wheel from their hand and turning down a road that they were never meant to travel v. keeping them on the road to travel safely in the direction that is their destiny?  Giving our children the freedom to be themselves is how they find themselves.  Perhaps that is the greatest gift we can give our children. 

Such a lesson for us mothers to have of being able to give unconditional love and to forgive.  We can do it for our children, but it is not so easy to practice on others.  A strange phenomena I think.  This day is a good day to reflect on that paradox and change it.  For the laws of the universe are clearly resident within us.

Bottled Water

Is it the epitome of conspicuous consumption that we drink bottled water when there is perfectly potable water from our taps?

I don't buy much bottled water--though on 06/12/10 I consumed this bottle to the left.  I have well water and reusable water bottles aplenty.  With so many countries with so little in sanitation and potable water systems (the very systems that we have and we seeming eschew in favor of bottled water), it strikes me that the delta between money spent buying bottle water v. tap (or filtered tap) water could build a few local water systems.


Change begins with observation and intent born of that observation.  I intend to limit if not eliminate my purchase and consumption of bottled water.

The Stuff of Life

Spring is arriving in fits and starts.  We had more winter in March and more summer in April than I remember in a while.  Rain.  Lots of it, but none giving us danger as others are experiencing.  It replenishes the water table, so I'm not complaining.

There is much in the news these last two days. Everyday we read of regrettable acts and tragic consequences.  Sadly, it is the stuff of life.  A result of our DNA that is no less caustic now than in any other point in history.  We merely have more deadly tools in which to carry out misguided actions borne of irrational thought and unfettered anger.  Grist for the ever turning millstone of the news.

As I was driving to work, my thoughts turned to "Christmas Letters".  Long, and narrow margined to fit all that is possible to experience in a year on a single page, they communicate all that is good in their lives:  trips, grandchildren, promotions, new cars, new homes...the list is endless.

I've never written a Christmas letter--but understand that I do somewhat the same in this space--though my intent is not to espouse all that is good in my life, nor to is it to air my dirty laundry.  I do have occasional soapbox moments.  One must, afterall, keep the glutes in shape.

The only joyful news in tragic events is the heroic responses from ordinary people.  It is a reminder that the flex of that DNA muscle is quick and strong. It reacts reflexively to such events.  Would that we have a lower threshold to invoke such action.  It is after all the small acts everyday that add up to something big--kindness and exercise share that efficacy of results.

I often ask job applicants what they would want remembered of them when they die.  Some look at me as if I'm crazy to advance the premise that they will die.  That is a given.  But our crafting of our lives in the time between birth and death is uniquely ours to do.  Yes, I'm feeling reflective--not morose.  I have a spectrum of books that have fallen into my circle of intentional reading that are stirring latent feelings and thoughts.  Shipler's, The Working Poor:  Invisible in America.  Peter Singer's The Life You Can Save; K. Sri Dhammananda's Why Worry?; Swami Vivekananda's Bhakti Yoga, and from that my ordering all volumes of his work.  I suppose what I'm really grappling with is a larger, broader moral/ethical standard that transcends currently accepted standards. 

 If you want an 'overview' of Singer's The Life You Can Save, you can listen to him here.

So, I'm working on my epitaph--and processing things a bit differently than was is culturally accepted which means no one in my life would really understand this.  But ultimately, the only way to express this process is that I would like to raise an awareness that writing a Christmas letter filled with and centered on what has been accomplished, earned, enjoyed etc, but rather how did you sacrifice and who did you help--and with a real reflection on how more could be done.  And the test of having truly arrived is to not send the letter---as selfless acts cease to become selfless if we wish to garner praise for them.

We no more "deserve" the bounty of life than others "deserve" the parsimony of life.  I believe that is a fact and not an opinion, and accordingly I'm trying to do a little life recalibration to reflect that belief.


Motors and Mountains



Motors and mountains combine for great fun for male gladiators on dirt bikes. The men folk have gone to West VA for their spring-time Hatfield and McCoy dirt bike ride.  I always worry about injury and the like.  Phone calls from weary, but still excited husband allay concerns and then give the highlights.

Highlights are generally in the categories of (1) injuries; (2) near misses; (3) didn't miss but survived it; (4) the splendor of nature; (5) the demands of the trail.

This year, there is a 6th highlight--the first time husbando said in a voice that was weary from #5 on the list, "I'm not in very good shape."  Time to break out the mountain bikes.  His passion for meeting the demands of the trail without feeling like an old man (he will be 58 this year), will inspire his working out.  My jealousy in seeing the very fit and not-too-much-younger-than-me Helen Hunt in
"The Sessions" should inspire me!  The movie itself was an inspiration on many levels.  Not only was the film a reminder of the abundance and generosity of spirit that exists in all of us, but also how the most basic of human experiences--sexual intimacy--is taken for granted by those of us who have experienced it.  Of course we can add walking, talking, seeing, hearing, thinking, breathing, eating and elimination to that, as there are many who are deprived of the easy experience of these things if at all. 

There was a #3--my son's bike fell into some watery hole and water was sucked into the engine.  More than two hours later and mechanical wizardry on the part of several got the motor dried out.  It needed to be pulled to get started--a feat overzealously undertaken by a fellow rider on a four wheeler.  He was pulling far too fast than my son was comfortable with.  Son bailed; bike dropped. The singular casualty was a Bark Buster bolt was a casualty.  Sure sounds like fun to me!

With the men folk gone, I was able to have the house to myself, eat out of the fridge, and work.  I've been so busy and feeling underwater to the point of gurgling.  But I'm kicking hard, and I'm closer to breathing air.  At some point in my life I hope to find equilibrium.  I've certainly had little success with it except for a few glimpses.  I guess when you have a proclivity to immersing yourself into what you do, gurgling is going to be an expected result.  As I can gurgle and kick, I'm not complaining.  Perspective is everything (it really is not attitude, because if you have perspective, attitude will fall into its proper place)--so I'm not complaining.

Spring has been arriving in fits and starts---it seemed to arrive first in early January, and then retreated for three more months.  It is now starting to emerge again...this is the coolest and wettest Spring that I remember in a while.  My favorite point in spring is when the reclusive wood thrushes begin their calling.  I've seen them for the last three weeks, but they do not begin their beguiling songs until the 3rd week of April.  When they start, they are the first to song in the morning and the second to last in the evening.  This lasts for for about 90 days, and then they are silent.  And missed.

And, I miss the men folk, who will be returning soon. It will be 72, and I hope that Spring will stay around for a while.












Time goes by. . .

. .  .like a freight train.

I have been quite busy with my real life.  My SR project is on the market and I have a new project.  IN getting ready for the listing on a Sunday evening, I heard a great racket in the chimney.  I suspected that it was a raccoon, as I could see 'shimmy' prints up the gutter.  I delayed the listing and open house, and called Critter Control to evict. I lost several nights sleep thinking about the racoon's demise.  As a great animal lover, these things touch me with great sadness.

They do set live traps, but are unable to relocating them due to the risk of rabies.  They are euthanized.  The balance of the house was protected (chimney cap, re screened vents) from re-entry from another itinerant raccoon.

This one piece Toto toilet sits in perfect harmony with the beautiful marble in the master bath.  I'm really happy how the master bath turned out--small but opulent.

Though we listed on Monday, we only have had one showing.  On the FR property, we had 8 showings within the first week.  I'm at a different price point here.

I tiled the shower in Q-Seal, Berkshire 9" x 18" tiles.  The shower floor is in 1" x 1" format, and the main floor is 12" x 12".  We took it up to the height of the vanity (to provide a fireman protection behind the toilet).  The mirror was inset with pencil.  The shower was framed on the inside and the outside door with chair rail.  We ran a 1/2 sheet high of the glass/stone mosaic in the shower and put in a niche.




It is single person event space. 

After completing all of the work at Skipton, I had to take a hard look at the cabinets.  I had planned to just leave them.  But they looked to bad.  So the cabinets, quickly became my personal version  of  "Leisa's Last Stand" or my very own personal "Alamo". 

I removed the doors, stripped the face of the cabinets, and the doors.  Sanded, sanded, sanded.  Applied Waterlox Original, which was the perfect finish for these cabinets. 

I had to use surface mounted hinges as the holes were still there and could not be disguised.  I went with an H hinge from Acorn--that is a straight bar v. the spade end hinges that came off.  I found a lovely handle (after hours and hours of searching) that worked well.

Here they are in their splendor.  There is just no toning down cherry in a picture.  These are solid on the bottoms and the sides.  A neighbor came by to look and loved them.  He was rubbing the finish, and marveling at how smooth and beautiful it was.  I'm thrilled.

The cabinets were NOT a weekend project.  I'm glad that I tackled them.  I had ultimately had to solicit some help on some of it as my real job needed me.  However, I was not as satisfied with the quality of some of the work.  I'm picky, picky, picky--and I think that you need to be in projects where the end results matter.  These are cabinets whose quality cannot be duplicated affordably.  Of course if you want a nice white, light kitchen, this is not the kitchen for you.

My favorite room in the house is the den.


It is warm and inviting.  My staging items are from scrounging around.  I picked up the leather club chair and ottoman in the corner and the Chinese coffee table at the Salvation Army.  The sofa came from Diversity Thrift, and is in a perfect neutral to stage. The walnut sofa table was from an antique store (and it is one of my favorite pieces of furniture).  The English Setter statue and the metal mirror over the fireplace came from a consignment shop. 



The dining room is staged with a Pennsylvania House Set that I bought from the CHKD Thrift Store for $150.  I recovered the cushions which were green velvet in a former life.  The rattan furniture in the living room came from another consignment shop.

I hope the home sells quickly.  We are certainly hitting a better sales market and a good season.

I'll tell you about my next project in a different post.