Your home is supposed to be your castle.
It is to be a place of refuge and solace. A place where you can relax and and enjoy life. Somewhere you can go to escape the raw ugliness of the world.
Right now, the only thing about my home that resembles a castle is the moat three-quarters of the way around the exterior.
A week and a half ago, everything was normal. I had a front lawn. A sidewalk. A front stoop.
Then the "project" began.
The Ump has been talking about taking on this issue for - well, since we've been married. We had the buckling basement wall assessed last year and we were told that it could be 25 years before anything needed to be done about it.
That was all I needed to hear. On to more important things like new kitchen cabinets and refinishing the wood floors and pulling up carpeting. Immediate peril was erased with those words as far as I was concerned.
What I didn't know was that each time the Ump went downstairs and confronted the cracks on the front wall, it made him more determined to do something about it.
So, when I told him now would be a good time to refinance the mortgage and consolidate some bills, he said he would do it only if we fixed the basement wall.
OK. OK.
I gave in. Even though I hated the thought of shelling out that kind of money and having nothing really to show for it. I can't imagine going downstairs to show people my lovely straight wall.
BUT, I did come up with an addition to the plan. We wanted to replace the old sidewalk, but I decided I didn't just want the same old cement sidewalk back. I love the look of stamped concrete because it can be molded to resemble everything from wood to brick.
My choice is random slate in a dark gray. It will cost a little more, but now is the time to do it - I reasoned with the Ump who was loathe to spend one more dime on the project.
We haven't gotten the bid on the sidewalk, but barring something unforeseen, I believe the Ump will sign on the dotted line.
Truth be told, in the spring, when our yard looks better than it ever has because of this attractive sidewalk, he will be taking credit for the whole thing.
Fine by me.
But first we have to get through the wall straightening which is now on day seven due to some inclement weather that settled in last week and has continued into this week.
My yard is a sea of clay mud, tools, gravel and cigarette butts. I was tempted to put a butt bucket out there to try to curb the littering, but I'm sure I would be labeled fussy or something, so I guess I'll just use my stick with the nail on the end to collect them out of the yard once this is all over.
Somehow I did not realize that clay dirt - when mixed with water - becomes PlayDoh and sticks everywhere and to everything, including dog feet, people feet - even cat feet.
The contractor assured me today that when everything is finished I will be amazed by how great the yard is going to look.
I try to conjure that image in my mind as I chip the clay off my dog's tail, but all I keep seeing in my mind are the 30 or so people coming to my house the first weekend in November who will see a nice brick house without a sidewalk.
And Halloween. What about Halloween? I have always enjoyed distributing treats to the kiddies. This year I guess I will have to stand at the front door and pitch candy out to the street since not only will I not have a sidewalk, I will not have a stoop. No jack-o-lantern resting place. No place for candles. Maybe I'll put a chair on the curb by the street...
I could just turn the lights out and hide inside like an old lady who doesn't want to be bothered.
It will all be over soon.
Then I can look back at those days when it was pouring rain and I had to slosh from my car on the street to my back door through a yard full of tools, tubes, dirt and rocks.
I'm sure it will seem funny then.
Sure it will.
But it is just the start of other stuff. Like landscaping the area that has been disturbed and reseeding the grass and replacing the giant holly trees that were excavated.
Thank goodness the Ump had that great idea about the slate sidewalk...
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Miss G
As you can see from the picture below, the Ump and I recently had a visit from my brother and his family.
It was the first time that his whole family - wife Carrie and daughter Gracilyn - have visited us since we were married four years ago. Gracilyn was a little over a month old at our wedding in 2001. I don't think she remembers much about that trip.
Gracilyn was excited about visiting Aunt Cindy and Uncle Kenny because animals live in our house. Little did she know that the animals run this house - we just live here.
I loved being around Gracilyn. She is an extremely verbal child who clearly expresses her thoughts and opinions. I enjoyed trying to follow her train of thought and I discovered that she is a very logical thinker.
She hit the ground running when they arrived late Thursday night. She had already been schooled on the names of the dogs and she wanted to meet them immediately.
I thought it might be a good idea to introduce her to the dogs one at a time. First came Tip - always lead with your strongest asset. Tip recognized Scott right away and he gave Gracilyn a good sniffing before he dropped to the floor.
Next came Peanut, the latest addition. With Peanut came the explanation that he does not like little children. That's not the easiest thing to explain to a little girl who sees a toy-sized dog. His growling made it a little clearer to her and she left him alone when Major came out.
Last came the goofiest dog of our bunch, Brownie. Turns out Brownie and Gracilyn became very close in the next three days. She loved the attention showered on her by Miss G and Miss G loved how the big brown dog followed her around the house.
For most of the weekend, Gracilyn shuffled the dogs in and out of the house. "Brownie looks like she needs to go out," Gracilyn said as she opened the door. "That dog needs to come in," she added, pointing at Major who was waiting by the revolving door.
Even though Gracilyn did not get to bed until midnight, on Friday she was in the kitchen before 7 a.m. ready to play with the dogs.
It was kinda chilly in the house - definitely too early to play revolving door - so I suggested we go to my bed.
Gracilyn climbed in on the Ump's side and I loaded the bed with all four dogs and one cat, Sunday, who happened to wander through.
For the next hour or so we watched Disney cartoons from my bed-turned-ark. We had to do the same thing the next morning.
Twenty years from now, I hope Gracilyn remembers those mornings the way I do - the way I am sure I will. We live so far apart - my niece and I - that we don't often see each other. I know about her life because my brother is full of stories about his daughter which he shares every time we are together. She knows about us because her parents have had her asking God to watch over us every night when she says her prayers.
Scott said she talked a lot about her trip to the country. Uncle Kenny (the Ump) took her for a tractor ride on the farm and managed to find a family with a horse for Gracilyn to take a ride on.
We ended our visit with a bonfire at a friend's house where we sat around the fire and roasted marshmallows, made s'mores and laughed under a star-lit sky. Gracilyn played with Ethan (whom she referred to as The Boy) and Cora (also known as The Girl).
It was a good weekend. Scott said every farm they passed on the way back to North Carolina was Uncle Kenny's farm. Her favorite dog was Brownie and the most fun she had was riding on the horse.
I think she took home some good memories. I know I will always bahmember (her word) her first visit to our home. And I can't wait for the next one.
It was the first time that his whole family - wife Carrie and daughter Gracilyn - have visited us since we were married four years ago. Gracilyn was a little over a month old at our wedding in 2001. I don't think she remembers much about that trip.
Gracilyn was excited about visiting Aunt Cindy and Uncle Kenny because animals live in our house. Little did she know that the animals run this house - we just live here.
I loved being around Gracilyn. She is an extremely verbal child who clearly expresses her thoughts and opinions. I enjoyed trying to follow her train of thought and I discovered that she is a very logical thinker.
She hit the ground running when they arrived late Thursday night. She had already been schooled on the names of the dogs and she wanted to meet them immediately.
I thought it might be a good idea to introduce her to the dogs one at a time. First came Tip - always lead with your strongest asset. Tip recognized Scott right away and he gave Gracilyn a good sniffing before he dropped to the floor.
Next came Peanut, the latest addition. With Peanut came the explanation that he does not like little children. That's not the easiest thing to explain to a little girl who sees a toy-sized dog. His growling made it a little clearer to her and she left him alone when Major came out.
Last came the goofiest dog of our bunch, Brownie. Turns out Brownie and Gracilyn became very close in the next three days. She loved the attention showered on her by Miss G and Miss G loved how the big brown dog followed her around the house.
For most of the weekend, Gracilyn shuffled the dogs in and out of the house. "Brownie looks like she needs to go out," Gracilyn said as she opened the door. "That dog needs to come in," she added, pointing at Major who was waiting by the revolving door.
Even though Gracilyn did not get to bed until midnight, on Friday she was in the kitchen before 7 a.m. ready to play with the dogs.
It was kinda chilly in the house - definitely too early to play revolving door - so I suggested we go to my bed.
Gracilyn climbed in on the Ump's side and I loaded the bed with all four dogs and one cat, Sunday, who happened to wander through.
For the next hour or so we watched Disney cartoons from my bed-turned-ark. We had to do the same thing the next morning.
Twenty years from now, I hope Gracilyn remembers those mornings the way I do - the way I am sure I will. We live so far apart - my niece and I - that we don't often see each other. I know about her life because my brother is full of stories about his daughter which he shares every time we are together. She knows about us because her parents have had her asking God to watch over us every night when she says her prayers.
Scott said she talked a lot about her trip to the country. Uncle Kenny (the Ump) took her for a tractor ride on the farm and managed to find a family with a horse for Gracilyn to take a ride on.
We ended our visit with a bonfire at a friend's house where we sat around the fire and roasted marshmallows, made s'mores and laughed under a star-lit sky. Gracilyn played with Ethan (whom she referred to as The Boy) and Cora (also known as The Girl).
It was a good weekend. Scott said every farm they passed on the way back to North Carolina was Uncle Kenny's farm. Her favorite dog was Brownie and the most fun she had was riding on the horse.
I think she took home some good memories. I know I will always bahmember (her word) her first visit to our home. And I can't wait for the next one.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Three times a charm?
You hear it all the time - trouble comes in threes.
So if you have had two incidents happen, brace yourself, something is on its way.
Three weeks ago - on a Saturday - we noticed that the central vac was not working well. It could suck things up, but not with the speed and force that we need in a house full of dog fur.
The logical thing to do was change the bag in the canister in the basement. It was pretty full, but turns out that was not the problem.
The Ump banged on the pipes leading to the canister in the basement hoping to dislodge any clump, but to no avail. Not good news with company on the way.
He had a football game to attend that Saturday afternoon, so he took off and I kind of puttered around the house, collecting my thoughts before heading to the grocery store. I was listening to Aerosmith - OK, it was a little loud - so I heard no hint of the approaching disaster.
It was not until I stopped at the sink to wash my hands that I received the first clue that something was amiss. No water.
Oh no. I just knew the Ump had whacked a water pipe or something. I turned off the stereo and immediately heard gushing water.
I threw open the basement door and ran down the stairs to confront water spewing from the water softener in the corner.
Some kind of sludge was all over the floor and my guess is that the water had been flowing for a good 15 minutes because there was a large pond growing.
With the Ump gone, I ran up the stairs and outside to see if I could locate our next door neighbor who is a contractor and a very handy man. Luckily, Danny was doing his typical Saturday spit-shine on his truck and I dragged him back to the house with me.
Of course, he had to run the gauntlet of barking and growling dogs to get to the basement, but he quickly figured out where to turn off the water to the house.
I called the Ump to tell him what was going on. He was already at the game and obviously reluctant to drive home. "Well, there's nothing I can do, right?"
OK. That was a statement of fact, but it was not the statement I wanted to hear at the moment. I think one of the top 10 reasons why I got married was so that I would not have to deal with life's little wild pitches by myself.
For 20 years, I - with the assistance of various landlords - handled everything from the invasion of a sewer rat to the invasion of the town sewer. It's much better to share the distress with someone, even if they don't have any more of an idea of how to deal with it than you do. Misery, indeed, loves company.
I can tell you something you may not know about water softeners. Not only do they contain water and salt, but they also have some kind of resin which - when poured on your floor - creates a skate rink kind of slickness that makes walking a challenge.
So, with two strikes against us, it didn't take long for fate to sling a third curve ball our way.
The following Saturday morning, I was headed to Strasburg for a hair cut when I opened the refrigerator and noticed a lot of condensation on the food.
I called the Grump, I mean the Ump, who said many unfriendly words on his way to the kitchen, including a small entreaty to a higher power asking what we had done to deserve such attention.
We found a repairman who could come look at our refrigerator - which is not four years old - on a Saturday. Certainly, we could get no one here from Sears which is where we purchased the refrigerator.
This kind fellow charged us $50 for a Saturday call and told us the compressor had died which meant one of two things. Expensive repair or new refrigerator.
When we finally go through to Sears, we were told that they would not take this man's assessment of the situation and would, therefore, send one of their folks out to diagnose the problem - on Oct. 4. A full 10 days later.
What are we supposed to do for a refrigerator until then, we asked. Tricia, I think her name was, told us she had no control over anything - that is just the way it works. Besides, she was in a call center in Texas.
The rest of that story is that when the guy comes on Oct. 4, he will not repair our refrigerator. He will charge us $65 to tell us what we already paid $50 to hear, that the compressor is shot. He will then schedule the next available repairman to come see us.
The next part of this story is why you buy locally and not from national stores that aren't in your neighborhood.
We went down the street to Beidler's, picked out a refrigerator, and they were at our house within an hour. They took our old refrigerator down to the basement and installed the new one.
So, we are using an old hose on the central vacuum; we bypassed the water softener and are considering whether or not to get a new one; and we still have our appointment with the Sears guy because we are going to keep the refrigerator in the basement.
I think now would be a good time to have the furnace cleaned.
So if you have had two incidents happen, brace yourself, something is on its way.
Three weeks ago - on a Saturday - we noticed that the central vac was not working well. It could suck things up, but not with the speed and force that we need in a house full of dog fur.
The logical thing to do was change the bag in the canister in the basement. It was pretty full, but turns out that was not the problem.
The Ump banged on the pipes leading to the canister in the basement hoping to dislodge any clump, but to no avail. Not good news with company on the way.
He had a football game to attend that Saturday afternoon, so he took off and I kind of puttered around the house, collecting my thoughts before heading to the grocery store. I was listening to Aerosmith - OK, it was a little loud - so I heard no hint of the approaching disaster.
It was not until I stopped at the sink to wash my hands that I received the first clue that something was amiss. No water.
Oh no. I just knew the Ump had whacked a water pipe or something. I turned off the stereo and immediately heard gushing water.
I threw open the basement door and ran down the stairs to confront water spewing from the water softener in the corner.
Some kind of sludge was all over the floor and my guess is that the water had been flowing for a good 15 minutes because there was a large pond growing.
With the Ump gone, I ran up the stairs and outside to see if I could locate our next door neighbor who is a contractor and a very handy man. Luckily, Danny was doing his typical Saturday spit-shine on his truck and I dragged him back to the house with me.
Of course, he had to run the gauntlet of barking and growling dogs to get to the basement, but he quickly figured out where to turn off the water to the house.
I called the Ump to tell him what was going on. He was already at the game and obviously reluctant to drive home. "Well, there's nothing I can do, right?"
OK. That was a statement of fact, but it was not the statement I wanted to hear at the moment. I think one of the top 10 reasons why I got married was so that I would not have to deal with life's little wild pitches by myself.
For 20 years, I - with the assistance of various landlords - handled everything from the invasion of a sewer rat to the invasion of the town sewer. It's much better to share the distress with someone, even if they don't have any more of an idea of how to deal with it than you do. Misery, indeed, loves company.
I can tell you something you may not know about water softeners. Not only do they contain water and salt, but they also have some kind of resin which - when poured on your floor - creates a skate rink kind of slickness that makes walking a challenge.
So, with two strikes against us, it didn't take long for fate to sling a third curve ball our way.
The following Saturday morning, I was headed to Strasburg for a hair cut when I opened the refrigerator and noticed a lot of condensation on the food.
I called the Grump, I mean the Ump, who said many unfriendly words on his way to the kitchen, including a small entreaty to a higher power asking what we had done to deserve such attention.
We found a repairman who could come look at our refrigerator - which is not four years old - on a Saturday. Certainly, we could get no one here from Sears which is where we purchased the refrigerator.
This kind fellow charged us $50 for a Saturday call and told us the compressor had died which meant one of two things. Expensive repair or new refrigerator.
When we finally go through to Sears, we were told that they would not take this man's assessment of the situation and would, therefore, send one of their folks out to diagnose the problem - on Oct. 4. A full 10 days later.
What are we supposed to do for a refrigerator until then, we asked. Tricia, I think her name was, told us she had no control over anything - that is just the way it works. Besides, she was in a call center in Texas.
The rest of that story is that when the guy comes on Oct. 4, he will not repair our refrigerator. He will charge us $65 to tell us what we already paid $50 to hear, that the compressor is shot. He will then schedule the next available repairman to come see us.
The next part of this story is why you buy locally and not from national stores that aren't in your neighborhood.
We went down the street to Beidler's, picked out a refrigerator, and they were at our house within an hour. They took our old refrigerator down to the basement and installed the new one.
So, we are using an old hose on the central vacuum; we bypassed the water softener and are considering whether or not to get a new one; and we still have our appointment with the Sears guy because we are going to keep the refrigerator in the basement.
I think now would be a good time to have the furnace cleaned.
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