Oregon properties in need of some lovin'

It just won't be love from me, I am all tapped out! These are all north central rural (obviously) properties. Do you look at derelict properties and think....hmmmmm, I bet I could restore-rebuild-fix that? Thankfully, I am moving away from that thinking. It is too expensive.

You probably can't tell... but the porch has completely separated from the house.  A positive : this used to just be grey weathered siding, looks like someone painted!

We are not tobacco growers here in the Northwest, so I could not figure out
why this barn has so much ventilation.  Hops? Really volatile hay?

OK. Even by my standards this may be a bit too far gone
 (Oh, but think of the stories......)

Small World Part 12

I went car shopping.  I see a pattern here, whenever my life is changing I go car shopping.  I don't necessarily buy a car, I just see what the prices are and what new technologies are out there.
Was looking at a VW TDI (nice car!) which was a joy to drive. Also drove a bug, and a new Jetta.
The very low-key salesman, Dave, copied my license so I could test drive.  He was looking at my address and asked if that was off of Lincoln Ave.? I told him it was in Poulsbo.... something clicked and he gave directions to my small gravel road.  I said that no one can ever figure out where I live, how did he know? He answered that his old best friend lived out there, Darryl, and showed me a picture of his motorbike in front of a garage, commenting that was Darryl's old place. 

I bought my house from Darryl. That motorbike was in front of my garage.  Dave then filled me with stories of Darryl and Veronica and their family.  He also told me the kitchen counter I want to replace (white grouted 4"x4" tile) was put in by Veronica.  I didn't want that info because it makes me less inclined to replace it -- because now I have story to go along with that impossible-to-keep-the-grout-clean counter.  Curse my history-oriented ways.

Minister introduction

So I told you the story of ending up at a church 26 miles from my house HERE... I had not yet introduced myself to the minister.  In the beginning I was somewhat too freaked out as to how I happened to walk in the door and how familiar it all was.

Memories of summer. It will be here someday, right?

Last week the sermon was about freedom.  It was a circuitous esoteric talk in some ways based on a Walt Whitman poem "the open road".  I sat right behind the choir, and halfway through they got up and left... so my row became the front  row.  At the end of service I usually book out of there, wander the fellowship hall seeing what is new and then go off the brunch and a walk.  For some reason I did not, and ended up facing the minister as he walked out.  He put his hand out and greeted me : You have been here before, right? What is it about some religious leaders?  They are so good at slowing the pace down and listening.  Truly listening.  I told him : Yup, but I never will stand up and introduce myself to the congregation.  He said that was okay... maybe someday.  I told him my name and where I was from, he mentioned there is a church starting up in my neighborhood, then quickly said, but you are welcome here!  We walked out and away from each other and then I thought what the hell.  Yeah, in church.  And went back and stood in line to talk with him.  The last gal in front of me had a long story filled with wayward children, addiction issues, housing problems and I thought then I do not have the patience for the ministry.  But he does, and listened so kindly to her and empathized.  She left and I said : I think you know my grandparents from Michigan.  He: Oh really? Who?
When I told him my grandparents names his face brightened and he looked stunned. He affirmed he knew them very well and placed me in the family... did I attend that church in Michigan, whose daughter was I.  I clarified the only time I had met him was at my grandmother's funeral, that I am a 100% NW gal born and raised.  He then told me stories of my grandpa... ones that we think of in the family and roll our eyes and wished he could find his wife to introduce me to since she knew them also.  I'll make that intro next week and put another link in place.
I am slowly seeing a very big picture here. They say life changes every 20 years, I am in that change and just going to ride it out.  Hey, FYI, went on my first date in 29 years last night.  It was a BLAST. 

The Oregon trip- Painted Hills Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds

I am back from my Oregon trip.  It was very helpful.  I was supposed to be figuring out if it was feasible for me to do consulting work in Oregon from my home in Washington.  I am not sure I answered that... but I had a blast.

Also, I found the most amazing re-use stores in Portland.  I felt like I was all starry-eyed and in Disneyland for old house owners. So many doors, reclaimed wood, detailed woodwork, everything.  Normal behavior for me nowadays - an employee gave me his cell phone number so I could call him personally with fir flooring dimensions and base molding lengths that I was looking for.  I am just going to roll with this stuff and call it spring fever. 

Neighbors with a tractor

Where I live is a little area of seven houses with acreage around a designated wetland area.  Recently, one neighbor lost his home to the bank.  A couple bought the house, which was in very bad repair, and for a ridiculously low price.  They have put alot of work into it since buying it - I hear chainsaws and big vehicles over there.  They are across the pond, so to speak, so only get glimpses when they leave their driveway but the other day I thought I saw a TRACTOR roll by.  Tractors make me giddy.  I need to rent one about once a year, and that usually runs me $400 for 4 hours.  Ouch. 

Driving home with one of my kids, the new neighbor was driving his garbage can to the street with said Kubota.  I put my car in park and ran out to meet him.  I don't know what he thought, but he seemed cautious and kept telling me about his girlfriend. Obviously, he cannot tell the difference between a woman hitting on him and a woman giddy over the prospect of tractor labor for free, or more accurately the cost of diesel and some baked goods.  He mellowed out when he realized I was solely focused on the orange machine he was driving and offered to come over and haul compost around my yard.  What! Of course you can be neighborly in such a manner! He was a super nice guy, as all my neighbors have turned out to be.  My neighbors: there is Cal, the gatekeeper to our community.  Literally, his house is at the main road and he keeps an eye out on the cars traversing our road.  There is the skilled carpenter and his family, she has had their house in a magazine for her design skills.  There are my retired neighbors who bring me fresh salmon, clams and most recently smoked salmon.
Don and Jan, probably my faves due to proximity.  I know them the best, too. Somewhat hardcore christians, not the mellow loving type - there is that undercurrent of fanaticism.  Jan told me God gave me the stroke so I would turn toward Him. I didn't have the heart to say that I don't believe in a God that would be so small minded and angry. That being said they are there in a heartbeat.  She prayed for my horse Bey when he was trying to colic.  I can only think that helped.  Two other families live here also, both friendly. I kinda lucked out on all of them.  And I get to add to the mix: nice couple with the tractor.

Honesty vs. Being a Nutjob.

A friend far away reads this blog.  She commented on my last few posts as being a little wacky, but very honest.  Well, yeah.  I am a little wacky and very honest, and she knows that.  There have been several directions  my life seems to be going, and I am still having issues with not controlling it.  I am so used to figuring everything out with my own skewed logic and brain power it is a challenge just letting things go.  I am not talking not mowing my lawn, not feeding my kids (although if you saw my house right now you would wonder about my letting go of keeping order.) But letting go of my future plans.  Understanding impermanence.  Basically all the crap I have heard about my whole life but made no sense.  Now, NOW, it makes sense.
This weekend I am 'getting away' to Oregon,  something I have not really needed since moving to this house.  The place I go is desolate and a special kind of beauty.  And whenever I go it just settles things.  Plus, my first dog's memory is on a mountaintop there.  And I have told everyone to cremate me and take me to the same place, which always seemed like a far off pie-in-the-sky time period.  It is not so pie-in-the-sky anymore.
While there I have a couple things to calm down about and figure out.  (Wait, did you not just hear me say I need to "let things go" and maybe "go with the flow"?) I am still workin' on that.
1. Someone asked me to watch their 6 month old.  This is not just any 6 month old, she is the greatest baby ever, and I am saying that when I have two kids which I thought were the greatest babies.  Infrequently, during the week.  My problem:  Being tied to my house.  Being tied to a baby, as deliriously joyful as she is.  And that whole caregiver role.  It is all I do. And babies take all your being.
2. I have a huge crush on my contractor.  I have not crushed since I was 19, and that man I married.  This man is just super outgoing, confident and quick minded which is a drug to me.  Well, that and coffee.  I know this will blow over and I will calm down but I feel like a nutjob.  Any tips? I feel too old for this.  My 17 year old should be doing this (not crushing on the contractor --  but being driven by hormones).  Sometimes I think men are more protective of a single female with her hands full.  I know my male neighbors keep an eye out and take care of random stuff without being asked (which makes me batshit crazy) . I have to remember the intent is not that they think I can't do it, but courteousness and being a good neighbor. Back to contractor: I also think he is looking for a great reference.  Like I said, it will all go away and blow over but right now it is a special kind of he** for me.
3.  I need to not avoid the medical field. That's it on that. 
4. I need to update my will and add a whole lot of end of life information.
5. I need to not be tempted to tell my daughter to go live with her dad when I am pissed. 

Oregon usually makes things very simple and clear.  That is what I need at the moment, clarity.

Annual frog fest

Today the frogs started serenading from the wetlands. They are almost two weeks late, they usually begin around Valentine's Day.

This was my fortune for today.

 

Frogs on my neighbors house in the woods.  They don't clamber on mine as much, but I sure can hear them.

Dogs and Electricity

Dog: I took care of a dog last week. Max was a perfect stoic gentleman. Here is a pic of him surveying our trip to the dump.
Electricity: I have been replacing defunct lighting in my house again. This is usually a week long job for me. I know, I know, you all take minutes to do this sort if thing. But my process is more---thoughtful. Here it is.
1. Take down old light.
2. Swear at the dangerously creative electrical rigging of the fixture accomplished by my predecessor.
3. Cover exposed ends of wires while I ponder for a day or two whether to rig more nonsense up to make it work or call the electrician Al.
4. Take truck to shop, care for a sick kid, clean up yard, sweep house.
5. Gaze at ceiling. Bare wires are not so bad.
6. Pull out new fixture from box. Kick myself for not noticing wiring configuration. What the heck. My two lonely wires poking from the wood ceiling with no fixture box would be overwhelmed.
7. Give Max back to his owner. Dust. Clean feathers out of my room where the cat dispatched a bird. Sand drywall. Sit on son about homework (not literally, although maybe that would help)
8. Ponder ceiling.
And that is why it takes me a week to change a fixture.

More strange spring stuff.

At this point I am just documenting these things. 
1. Went to church, the minister themed his sermon around a Walt Whitman poem.  (Is it any wonder I like this congregation... a sermon around Whitman?) Not just any Whitman, but his one of freedom and open roads. It smacked "car trip" to me and all the spirit lifting, fast driving, empty road feelings from when I used to be a frequent imbiber of hot footing it in an old car across desolate places in the West accompanied only by a dog. 
Yesterday I went to the library while waiting for Wilder to finish his dance.  Pulled out 20 books everything from "refinishing a garage" to "building paths and walkways". 
I opened the pages of the first book and what was on the opening page?
Walt Whitman's same poem.
2. My bank is collecting for the homeless youth in the area. For a small community, we seem to have a lot of parents that are unable or unwilling to take care of their kids. I won't even go into my venting action about this, suffice it to say it makes me angry and sad.  The kids needed basics like hats and hygiene products so while  I was in Rite-Aid waiting for a prescription I did some shopping.  A  gal who has helped me many times walked by and said "hi".   My hands were full of deodorant and teenage paraphernalia so I told her what I was doing.  She cocked her head to one side and was very thoughtful when she said : that is a really important thing to do.  She is about my age and went on to lightly sketch a story of her own parentless childhood raising her siblings and what helped her through.   She didn't do it for pity, it was just a sharing of common experience.  At the end of it there was a hug. (What is it with the hugs by strangers??? )


I feel like something is going to happen.  I have these experiences over and over, and either it is because I am not listening so they are repeated... or that I am gearing up for something.  
I guess I am gearing up for life and all that brings.  Things are changing.  I am a security driven person, so even though I love new and different paths, I generally stay to the tried and true for me.  Insurance.  A solid home.  A savings account.  I added that "for me" because some friends would say I am not security driven.  Going to new places by myself.  Hunting ghost towns in desolate areas in aging cars.  Buying a house an hour from friends and family that needs a lot of work,  and then having to learn how to do it.   (I have a lot of books!)
I need a damn divorce.  The stroke and its consequent medical bills kept me married.  I greatly dislike that but do not want to risk losing what I have built because of health blips driving me to bankruptcy.  With health insurance, really good killer health insurance that pays everything... there is no risk.  (See, safety driven!)  He does not seem to have a problem with it, but I do.  I will never be free from him since we have kids, but I need to not be in his life as anything but a former partner. 

Wilder's photograph for art.

It is a sunny day - the gardening bug arrives!

I woke up this morning to sunshine.  Literally woke up to the sun -- in my closed eyes. Because I have those new stunning windows in my room that are not yet framed on the inside, I have no curtains.   Which is so funny because yesterday it was so cold, windy and wet I did not make a required trip to the dump to empty construction mess because my fingers froze when I was tying it all down.  I got very wet, threw my hands in the air, mumbled something disrespectful about the temperature, took my wet clothes off and tossed them in the dryer, and clambered back in bed for a nap with the heating pad and cat. (The cat is no dummy, he is drawn by the heating pad, too.)

I culled seeds from these giants last year, but have about six types of sunflowers that are going in. 

When it is sunny at this time of year I get the gardening bug -- you know it? The one that sends you outside to clean-up and prep for the upcoming growing season?  I have too much compost (positive side effect of having horses), a neighbor with a small tractor, so I am going to put the two together and make a narrow bed next to my driveway that goes around my house and put in sunflowers. The last three years I have sporadically planted them (really, I walk around the yard plugging in seeds here and there...) but this is going to be a solid stripe of yellow running in front of and next to my home.  My neighbor and his tractor will do the large scale moving of all that compost. I will follow behind and "prep".   I define myself as a lazy gardener.  I will have him move and dump loads of compost in a loose row (tractors are never good at meticulous work).  I will cover it with plastic.  In a few weeks I will uncover it, maybe drag a rake over it to make the bed look planned as opposed to haphazard,  and push a bunch of seeds into it.  Then I will spend a week or two opening my window in the house and yelling at crows picking through and eating said seeds. But by mid-summer  I will have flowers galore. 

Kids trump all

Taking up the most of my life is raising kids.  Yeah I gotta house that needs work.  Yeah my gardens are expanding and I am thinking of getting a greenhouse.  Yeah, I have a whole lotta animals and their respective vet bills.  But the bottom line that runs through every day is my two kids.  One, Rose, 17, is almost out of the house. A senior applying to colleges, her time is spent being a teenager in the best and worst sense of the word.  She takes AP classes and is in Debate. She has put a dent in every car except one. She has made questionable choices with her friends.  She seems to spend alot of time on hair and makeup. She yelled I HATE YOU once to me when really really angry.   BUT, I vaguely have a wispy memory from the recesses of my brain that I hated my mom at this age. She was so dumb. And her rules were ridiculous.  Of course, having my own kid this age brings back all those memories, so in some ways I imagine I am a very frustrating mom. It does not hurt my feelings when she yells that, I know that she needs to cut her tie to me.. to make a clear stride toward autonomy as I did.
The hardest thing for me is to let my children fail.  Not fail in the little things, but the big, hondo, impact-your-life kinda way.  My daughter has made some questionable friends.  On the outside they are all sugar and sweet, successful parents, they look a certain way... but there is some weird stuff going on in their families and in their heads and consequently they are on their way to having juvenile records for theft. (Seriously, who steals from Walmart.)  I caught Rose playing hooky with one gal and turned them in at school. (Actually another mom saw them and called me - the blessing of a small town!)  On a hunch, I had them both empty their bags.  A stolen bottle of vodka was emptied out of the friend's purse.  This is where I failed.  I was not willing to get them both suspended so I took the bottle and threatened them both to high heaven. They got in school suspension for cutting class.
My daughter was grounded for months.  The restrictions are lifting but she is being monitored.  So far she has been where she says she is, doing what she says she is doing.  But, BUT if she does something more serious with her "best friend" I need to not step in and rescue her.  I did not easily come to this conclusion.  Besides friends that are an ever-lovin' source of support, I have a therapist.  I brought her on board when I was navigating divorce, she stayed through all the mortality crap I have been through, and now gets to tackle a more challenging topic with me - teenagers. She talks with Rose, too, and is a neutral support system for us both.  We all have figured out that my stroke impacted both kids enormously (no, duh.) and unfortunately Rose is "working through" some things she does not have words for.  God how I wish my kids didn't ever have to experience that, but it is not for me to fix. 

Three generations cracking up.  Daughter, Mom, Grandma.

Siblings.  You have no idea how many dozens of pictures I have on the computer of them hamming it up. 

It is also a saving grace to have her dad living 15 miles away. The kids go there on weekends and I gallivant about the countryside.(OK, maybe gallivanting is a stretch, but I am childless for a solid day...)

What is this? The strange power of spring? Hormones?

A Seattle buddy said I have to write these down because I will forget and they should be documented for humor and so they can rib me later.  My friends are lovely, aren't they?

I was on the ferry yesterday reading.  I heard a voice over my shoulder and then a man stood next to me and said : Boy, I wish I hadn't had my morning coffee already, I would just have to come join you that smells so delicious.  Me: It is tea.  He: A bit flustered. Me. It is good, you should try tea. I smiled.

Geri went with me to church this weekend.  We were guzzling our tea/coffee before the service and a fellow sat down with us. I began talking with him, he is from a neighboring island and boats in for the service.  He said : I hope you are really happily married.  You should be happy in your marriage. Then he blushed.  BTW, we were not talking about marriage OR relationships. We were talking about enviromental activism. 

Obviously this man-thing is not done.  I will keep you posted.   Oh, I'll tell you the architect story, too.
I won an architect at my son's auction.  He came over to fulfill the certificate and we sat at the dinner table talking what he was going to do.  He then asked me about my kids school where I won the service.  He asked me about schools and when I was telling him he said : Maybe this would be a good conversation over a glass of wine.  Me: Awkward. When I get in "house mode" there is no time for romance.  Practical house stuff, man, we got things to do!

I put that pic up of me in the previous post so you can see how I look when all this is happening.  A lot of times my makeup has worn off, (if I even remember to put it on) maybe I have hay in my hair or mud on my shoes. And this is not just mud, this is more "horse" mud, the naturally scented kind.
I swear I am not flirting.  S-W-E-A-R.  At least there is an end in sight.  I am pretty sure it will come to a grinding halt when my hormones adjust out of whatever mode they are in.  I am also writing this down because this sort of random stuff does not happen to me. Never. Or never so blantantly.  It's all this damn heart opening stuff.  (I am pretty sure the calm gentle souls teaching this don't use that terminology... but I think that is my new acronym for it - D.H.O.S.)

Contractor - I found a good one.

My house has never been so strapped down.  It has been seismically retrofitted, with monster brackets tying the whole thing together.  That and the posts and beams are new should make this all more solid.  Should.  I notice my south wall is moving.  I notice this because the previous ding dong owners built the stairs so they don't all touch the wall... it looks like a floating staircase at points.  Yes, in architecturally significant homes they do this purposely and it is quite a feat, in my house... an accident because what - they ran out of wood?  I dunno, but it has always been this way and I have called it "charming" in my mind. If I think "charming" and "original" that allows me to be more generous of spirit than if I focus on the words "idiocy" and "cheapskate".  Some days it is a toss-up. 
The staircase is becoming more and more floating.  As in, the wall has moved a quarter inch away. 
Sigh. 
Guess we aren't done in the basement. 
I will have a structural engineer over to confirm, but I will have my contractor do the work.  Because even if I question how he supported the south wall, the bottom line is I can call him up and say "Walter, seriously, this wall is moving because of what you did". He does not argue, get all blustery about it and grumble that it was like that before, or he did it all correct it must have been something I did (can you tell what sort of people I have had do work previously?) He just says something like : Sue (the project manager) differed in opinion on how to support this but we ran all the numbers (and boy did they run numbers) and I thought this would work but I guess we need to revisit this, or yeah, we didn't know (blah de dah), let me come over and figure it out.  Other than this, they stayed in budget and did phenomenal work. The ease of working with them all on a plain old farmhouse is worth it.  And, with this house, nothing is ever simple.  And no, I don't want a new cookie cutter development house which would take no brain power to own. Because for me, I need to have a challenge.  Oh, you say, having teenagers, being a single mom, health adventures, a geriatric horse or two,  acreage, gardens, aging cars, chicken eating coyotes is not enough of a challenge for you?  No, no, it isn't.  I need an old bug chewed, slightly tilting, story-filled, farmhouse thrown in the mix!   And yes, I should probably plan on being buried in the backyard because all my money is sinking into this landboat. 

Doctors and who to sue if I keel over.

I am putting this in writing.  Today I went to the cardiologist.  I stood in line to check in behind five people, two in wheelchairs.  I sat in the waiting room with a dozen folks.  The average age was 20+ years older than me. Out of a dozen patients... I was the only person in that room able to drive herself to an appointment.

Just figured out the new camera on my computer... don't I look tired after a day of docs?

I am having issues being taken seriously in the doctors office.  I look healthy.  I am sparky. (Oh, especially if I have an excellent double shot of espresso before heading in to the doctors office).  I am eloquent.  And If I am not, I write it down so I don't forget.  I am confident.  I don't whine, cry, or look sad.  Worried, yes.  I want them to take this seriously so I put on my "work face".  The one that I would use to get people to donate money and the one for public presentations.  I need something from them, so I express that need.  My old doctor pre-stroke blew off all my CLASSIC stroke symptoms because she said it was menopause symptoms.  I feel like my cardiologist blows me off because I am female, way younger than him, don't smoke, don't drink (enough), have a healthy heart, am a decent weight, eat well.  When I am in front of him, my heart is fine.  Well no duh.  After telling me I had a small stroke, (when my neurologist calls it a serious stroke) he suggested it was anxiety.  That sounds a lot like he is going down the menopause road.    They can make me feel like a hypochondriac until I remember... nope, not a hypochondriac if I had a stupid stroke people. 

Note: I am the least litigious person in the world.  I am not condoning suing. There is a lack of significant medical studies on women, menopause and embolic episodes, hence a lack of comfort by doctors to venture  outside of the "averages" of prescription drugs and medical journals.. Unless I find a study of some sort -   my medical concerns will not be addressed fully until a) I do have a heart attack or another stroke or b) I age.  Probably need to find other doctors, too.

Heart Story Part 2

Tuesday I was heading over to Seattle by ferry to a neurology appointment.  I called the aid car with some weirdo stuff this weekend so needed to check in with my big gun doctor. (Reminder to self: when calling an aid car make sure you are not wearing your horse riding bra - you know the old questionable one? Because, not that you are necessarily thinking about that in a time of medical trauma, but what if they are super handsome and charming and seem like they are not from around here? And are not nerdy like the last EMT guys who blushed when they put the heart monitor stickers on you? Just sayin' ....) Sorry. Sideline.

When we parked on the ferry for the 40 minute ride, a smiling woman in her 60's tapped on my window.  She said, "I think I am supposed to meet you." Huh. This has been an odd journey of late, so why not? We talked a bit and I invited her to sit in the truck with me (40 years of ferry riding I have never invited someone to sit in the car with me...) A thoroughly sweet woman, she went on to say last night she was at a dinner party and mentioned that she really wanted to ride a horse again.  She and her husband are going to Maui and some folks at the dinner said Hana on Maui had the most beautiful horses.  She pulled in behind my truck on the road to the ferry (which by the way I never take to the city because I can't park it anywhere and the gas mileage is atrocious.)  While driving she saw my bumper sticker, "Fight Smog, Buy Horses - Hana, Maui",  and my personalized license plate about traveling.  The coincidence struck her as odd, and so she decided to meet me.  She had horses previously in her life, but has no room for them now.  She moved up from California to be with a new husband and felt isolated (welcome to the Northwest Freeze!) on the end of a forested road in on a drippy gray weathered island.  We talked endlessly like very old friends until we landed in Seattle. It was not awkward at any moment, truly like we were just picking up on a conversation we had already started. 
We exchanged numbers and went on our merry way. 
I went to my neuro appointment, gave him my list of symptoms, and he sent me directly to the cardiologist and an appointment next week with the words "We may have it figured out why you had the stroke... this sounds like your heart. "  Since my hormones are in flux again (ah, lovely menopause) it is playing havoc with my heart rate. I had this before the stroke, but post stroke nothing.  Post stroke there was a complete and utter change of diet and lifestyle.  I was in charge of nothing. Not the house, kids, career, whether the cars got their oil changed.  I ate nothing greasy, caffeinated, sugary or salty.  I slept a lot. I lost 3 clothing sizes (it doesn't look it being that I am 6' tall!) Today, my diet isn't quite that strict (caffeine and sugar have slipped back into my life) but it is much better than previous.
Marcy left me a sunny message tonight about a "mile high" chocolate birthday cake she was given two days ago (her birthday was valentines day) and wanting to meet at the local public place to share with my kids and I. 
See, there is something to this heart stuff.
I am doing this "heart opening" , or trying anyway, and people start walking in my life. 
I haven't even told you about three men in one day inquiring about getting together for wine, coffee, lunch....that does not happen to me. Ever.

Heart Story Part 1

Related to the previous story is that my grandfather died of a heart attack. Early on in my stroke diagnoses, there were many heart tests -  since unhealthy hearts run in my family. The clot that  lodged in my brain is a direct line from my heart - so my neurologist is sure the embolus came from the heart, the cardiologists have just not been able to replicate my hearts antics.  When she heard my story of ending up at a Port Townsend church,  a friend said "your grandfather must be trying to tell you something. " I pondered on that... what would he tell me? He was a driven German, oldest man to climb the Sierra Nevada mountains, world traveler, - he made the gyro that guided Apollo 13 - and the last 25 years of his life he totally changed his life after a bypass surgery.

In January, there was a class on healthy hearts at the church. I signed up, thinking it was medical knowledge- you know...healthy food, exercise equals healthy heart...etc etc.  and could always be useful information. Turns out it was on meditation, opening your heart, and an Eastern medicine approach.  I sat through the class and realized I have a guarded temperament about my heart.   It took some conscious effort in that class to release that closed off part of me, walk a little straighter and think, "open your damn heart, Andrea". (My words, not the gentle-spoken man that taught the class.)  Between the bible verse randomly left on my car about opening your heart, and ending up with my grandfathers minister at my church perhaps I should listen to something that is hard for me to understand.  Or perhaps more appropriate.. hard for me to listen to.

My kids.  The reason to keep voraciously battling these BS health issues. 

s.

Crazy faith -

When a youngster I was baptised at the Congregational Church.  It was the only church to attend in my small community , other than the Catholic Church.  I then attended a Presbyterian church as a kid on  San Juan Island.  The UCC church in Seattle was an active bunch of feisty people which I got along with swimmingly, my local UCC church in Kitsap is on the smaller side and has not clicked with me yet. The other morning I got a bee in my bonnet to go to church. I haven't been in a while since I worked weekends.  But since I took several weeks off of work -- I have my Sundays available for such endeavours. I was going up to Port Townsend that day for a hike so thought I'd visit a local church up there.  I looked up the program for that morning... and thought it looked like a grand topic.  I walked in a couple minutes late, sat in the back, and listened.  It began with the usual rituals, singing, announcements, candles.
Then the minister began talking. I listened and heard him mention Albert Schweizer which immediately brought to mind my grandfather, Wilhelm.  My grandfather would talk of Schweizer, Joseph Campbell, Jung with fire in his eye.  (He always had fire in his eye, he was full of German feistiness!) I realized I so was not listening to the sermon - so started paying attention again. That is when the minister said he was previously sixteen years at Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids, MI. This caught my attention, that was my grandparents church. This man knew my grandparents.  In this small church in NW Washington memories tumbled through me as he talked about the things my grandfather talked of.  Same philosophers.  Same church leader.  I started tearing up when he said "the welcome card in the entry way is directly from Duncan Littlefair" -a man my grandfather had great respect for and with whom he completed an oral history of his life.  On a whim this day I visited this church where the direct beliefs from my grandfather were spoken.  The first and last time I heard this ministers voice was over twenty years ago, at my grandmothers funeral. Here I was hearing that voice 26 miles from my home in a church I went to on a whim.  
I got up early from the service and went and cried in the bathroom.
After leaving the church, I went to my favorite brunch place. Since living on the Kitsap Peninsula I do not hear the German language much. At this restaurant which I go to every Sunday...my grandparents voices were present - a woman at the table next to me was speaking German.  Her two seatmates were speaking English, but she was talking German.
When I went back out to my car a handwritten bible verse was on it, about opening your heart.
When I took it off my windshield I started laughing.  What a strange day.

Changes in window style - back to the beginning

This is the south side of my house three years ago during one of our infrequent snows.  The gable on the right is the original building, pre-1904 era.  At some point, the left "ell" was added.    The lower window on the right is my room, and the window that drips water.  It is not the window leaking, but the siding at some point on the second story is allowing water behind the siding that allows water to drip from the center of my window frame.
Above are, of course, not the original window style for the house.  In a rough dark fuzzy image from public records of my home, circa 1904, the house looks to be unpainted and has divided light windows.  Very tall and narrow, and I am sure drafty as all get out.  Below is what I have been up to.  The siding was replaced with 10" cedar bevel.  It is actually over the original cedar siding, still in excellent shape.  Also, I brought the windows back to the early days style - Andersen 200 series divided light - but without the draftiness!
I am painting the house this summer and guess what color?

A New Year - and women getting balls.

We went to Michigan for the holidays.  My family is outside of Detroit - in Royal Oak and Saline. Besides the obvious joyful benefit of visiting family - I don't to see on their home turf very often - we ate amazing food, had a white christmas (yay!) and took it easy. It is difficult to leave the farm,  I hired three people to keep an eye on things - one took the dog, one cared for the horses, and one housesat the chickens, cats and guinea pigs.
 I love visiting Michigan because houses like mine are EVERYWHERE.  Not so in the Seattle area.  And speaking of my house:  Oh man oh man oh man you have to see what I have been up to. Next post.
But first, because I have not been on here in a while...I will do a bit of venting action.  Because that is what drives visitation to a blog. Complaining!  (I am totally joking here, it is not advised to be negative...but I am nothing if not contrary!)
1. I have a beautiful 17 year old daughter.  It is endlessly unmercifully disgusting to me when men older than I ogle her. And when I say ogle, I mean leer and hit on her.  I want to walk up and say something about their daughters and granddaughters, would they like a man approaching their child the way they are approaching Rose?  
2. I am 48.   I am not in high school.  Women, this is a lecture for you.  If your husband/boyfriend/date is hitting on another woman in front of your face, you need to get pissed at the man involved.  Not the woman. If your man has children with other women and that bothers you, you need to get mad at him for lying and seducing other women, not the other mothers. (This is what I saw when I was a social worker--women physically fighting in front of their kids because they had children by the same man.)  If you don't have the chutzpah to stand up for yourself and tell off your man you need therapy or not to date for a while.... and definitely try not to have kids.   Oh, and you need to have the confidence to realize your partner talking to a female in a crowded room is not a threat to your relationship.   If it is, the above applies again.
I have said this before, and I am sure this is not my last discussion of this topic.  The story: I went out with friends to hear a great blues band.  Knew two of the women there, both had new boyfriends.  Immediately one of the boyfriends began a very outgoing, animated, flirty conversation with me, while I answered to both members of the couple, wanting to include his girlfriend, because it was uncomfortable. I started talking to the women across the table and ignoring him. For the record, the couple was tipsy, and this being Washington state, maybe a bit stoned.  Not sure on that, but there was some sort of inebriation going on.   The woman withdrew more and more, and eventually made out with her man AT THE DINNER TABLE, and then looked over at me.  When she was on the dance floor, she would look over at me and then grope her man. Blech.  Meanwhile, he is trying to catch my eye.  Point one is she is dating a dog of a man. Point two is by the end of the eve she couldn't even make eye contact or talk to me.
 See? I feel much better now.  That stuff happens and it is so frustrating. Oh and this for the men.  If you talk a single woman when your wife or partner is not present... you are not getting away with anything, We are not swooning over you, whether you have a potbelly or abs, age 20 -70.  I personally would never in a kajillion years, freezing hell conditions, melted polar icecaps, zombie apocalypse, have anything to do with an attached man.  That is not really a trust-builder, not the sort of thing to build a solid relationship on.

 I am serious, I am printing up a t-shirt that says:
 Yes, I am friendly.  I am SO NOT FLIRTING with you.
 I speak the same way to men, women,
          and small mammals.

Replacing Beams - What happens above those beams

The carpenters are busy downstairs.  I am sitting at my dining room table on the computer.  The southwest corner of my dining room DROPPED -the floor moved, the walls moved. 
I heard the carpenter come upstairs and into the dining room,  "Did you see it move?"
I answered from the living room, in the stable part of the house where I moved in about 1.2 seconds... "Yup, I saw that!"
They are "dropping" the mid section of my house while raising the edge, above the foundation.  This section of my house was described to me as a floppy tortilla, high in the middle with edges that droop. 
My house is only (only) a couple inches off level.  Friends told me of a newish home in a high end development 12" off level.  I don't feel so bad when I hear that. I just don't sit above the posts and beams they are working on...