Category: From the Heart

Day Something or the Other

Published on by Janet Sunderland8 Comments
Image result for phone image

Each day I need to look at my phone to see what day it is. Today is Monday. Our wise city mayor has instituted a shelter in place order (which I tend to do most days, anyway) and for the most part, that’s what Kansas City is doing. We are allowed to go for walks outside as long as we keep “social distance.” The street in front of our house has people walking by from time to time — I know that because my desk faces a window to the street. My rear office window, where I sit to journal each morning while I drink tea, faces the backyard. I must admit, the backyard is more interesting. There the squirrels dash around the yard and up through the trees in the most amazing feats of bravery and balance, and bright red cardinals come to the bird feeder which I fill each day.

The front window shows me couples, some pushing a baby in a carriage although I don’t think they call them carriages anymore. (Strollers, that’s what they’re called! Just remembered.) But whatever baby seats are called, there they are. During normal times, whatever passes for normal, I rarely see anyone outside walking. But now they are as we live on a side street with very little traffic. Earlier, I watched a boy on a skateboard dashing along, followed by a woman whom I presume was his mother, on a larger one. Amazingly, she was reading and texting on her phone as she skated along. She did slip off, once, right in front of our house as I was expecting her to all along. Hopefully it wasn’t my condemnation of anyone skateboarding while reading a phone that propelled itself through the window to make her fall. Actually, she didn’t really fall completely, at which I was quite amazed, but did manage to tip the board enough that one wheel came off. Her son came back to rescue both her and the skateboard and replace one of the wheels that had come off. While pretty nimble, she wasn’t as nimble as the squirrels.

I’m getting used to the new and different WordPress. Mostly, I just start typing. Sometimes, as you’ve noticed, I find a photo to insert, but since we’re all at home, and the television on all the time, there’s not a lot to see unless I take a photo of the backyard trees, now beginning to bloom.

But now, I’m going to go work out in my makeshift gym in our bedroom. And probably listen to more news. It’s addictive.

All of you, my friends online, stay safe.

Janet

A Milestone Birthday, They Decided

Published on by Janet Sunderland18 Comments
Christian and Great-Grandma

Some months ago, younger son who lives in Florida said, “This is your 75th? That’s a milestone.” I agreed. It certainly was or is, as the case may be. I preferred not to think about it. Mostly, I didn’t know HOW to think about it. I mean, I’m still active, still working out, still writing, still being me. What made 75 seem like such a big deal? i.e. I preferred not to think about it once I’d done some math and realized 80 is only five years away and 85 and 90, etc etc. But since my life plan goes to 104, I decided this was only one more.

Not so, as it turned out, to my family. Especially my husband, who in concert with children and behind my back, decided otherwise.

First was a booze cruise around Weatherby Lake, north of Kansas City, on the Friday evening before my Tuesday birthday. Our friends, Venessa and Justin, have a house a couple of blocks from the lake and a pontoon boat. Cliff fixed about twenty crab cakes and off we went for an evening on the lake. Along with two thermos (what’s the plural of thermos? thermoses??) of gin and tonic. Not any gin, mind you, rather Hendricks Gin which is amazing if you’ve never tried it. And since it’s a pontoon boat, music and dancing on the forward deck. We had a blast. And drove home in the deep dead of night, around 1 :30 a.m.

On Tuesday, which was my rightful birthday, I was coming down the stairs in my nightgown when 6’4″ son who lives in Florida walked in the door! “Happy Birthday, Ma!” he said. And grinned. He fills a lot of space. Elder son who lives here in Kansas City is a little over 6′ but that extra 4″ fills a lot of space. So, on my birthday, two sons got busy fixing things. First it was a trip to Home Depot. I forget what all they came home with, but stuff, and began fixing. First it was the sink disposal unit that had become increasingly cantankerous. That took them awhile. While they were at it, they changed the under sink water filters. And tossed some stuff that needed tossing. I can’t remember what all they did on their fixing rampage. But stuff. Like old houses always need. Including a new ceiling fan and overhead light in the living room. Fortunately, older son once made his living as an electrician and is very careful around electricity. But whatever they did required several trips to Home Depot.

Two nights later, younger son left in the evening to go see a friend from when he lived here in KC, he said. Okay, I said. He came back about an hour later with grandson/granddaughter/great-grandson, who live in San Diego. I didn’t know they were coming either. We shuffled and moved things and set up beds in both offices and it was a very full house. The “boys” kept fixing things and I played with two-year-old great-grandson, Christian. He laughs a lot. And I baked cookies – about 6 dozen chocolate chip and ditto with oatmeal cookies, and went to the park and let Christian run and laughed and watched television and ate whatever it was my husband cooked each night.

Christian is a mix of three cultures: Korean, Filipino, Caucasian. When granddaughter, a year ago or so, said, “I can see the Korean and the Filipino, but I don’t see the White part,” I told her the White part is the crazy part. It appears I was correct. He and I did crazy together really well.

It was the most amazing birthday a Wife/Mom/Grandma/Great-Grandma could have. I soaked it in and was tired and sad when they left. The ceiling fan works great, by the way.

.

Shuffling into Spring

Published on by Janet Sunderland9 Comments

While it is, technically, spring, the scene out my window is somewhat dreary. Yes, the oak is leafed out and the Texas bluebonnets are blooming in the front yard along with tulips. In the backyard, the redbud tree is blooming and on previous sunny days I’ve seen errant honeybees in it. That gives me hope. They say, they being the nature people who count these things, that bees are declining. It’s true there aren’t many, but any at all gives me hope for our chemical free yard.

But today is overcast and dreary. Yes, I’m grateful for rain…farmers are always grateful for rain. Well. I’ve just realized I need to amend that statement some as the farmers north of here whose fields are muddy and ugly from the late winter floods and who may not be able to plant in those fields for another two to three years, might just as soon not see rain. And this particular overcast sky is supposed to bring more rain up north than down here.

Over the Easter weekend, I corresponded with a blogging friend, Rambling Rose, in Sri Lanka. And after an Easter day when she wrote about the church bombings, she’s gone dark. I’ve read the authorities have closed access to all social media outlets.

It is an unsettled world.

I remain grateful for our lives and our home even though it’s still suffering from winter storms and needs a new roof…like NOW. But that’s not going to happen “now” I expect. We have spread out big plastic garbage bags in the attic and stationed various old pots and buckets under the worst leaks. When a winter storm dumped over a foot of snow on the willow branches, weighting them down, they leaned over the electrical wires and pulled out the window ledge where said wires were attached. And broke off the new weather-head on the new electrical wires that go to the outside new electrical box which go to the new electrical panel in the basement. Thankfully, that’s repaired and the rain won’t go dripping down and short us out again. We did, however, need to severely trim my beautiful and much loved willow. It is, I’ve seen, recovering and putting out new shoots. I’ve given it food stakes to help it along.

This is getting to be a rather grim post, I’m realizing. Probably it’s the gray and cranky scene out my window. So here’s a bright point. When the window ledge which said wires weighted down with snow pulled out, it also took a chunk of stucco with it. So, to protect the wall from further damage with snow/rain/etc leaking down the wall behind the stucco, I filled another handy garbage bag with an old, flat pillow to keep garbage bag from flopping around, hung it outside over the broken spot, and secured it with the window sash. Good thinking, I thought.

Obviously, a sparrow thought so, too. She decided behind the plastic bag and in the space left from the pulled out window ledge was the perfect and warm place to build a nest. So each morning, as I sit in my rocking chair at that backyard window and journal fragile morning thoughts (this window in front of my computer is in the front of the house), baby chicks peep and cheep and call for mother who flutters back with something or another, the peeping gets louder, she flies away again for another round of whatever she’s feeding them, and that goes on for a good while until babies finally sleep. Or whatever baby birds do once they are fed.

Well. Over the years, while creating the backyard gardens, I wanted a bird and butterfly refuge. I guess it worked.

..

Enter Winter

Published on by Janet Sunderland12 Comments

A blogging friend, Rambling Rose, asked me to write a post on our debilitating winter storm. She wrote, “We in the tropics only hear about such weather on news channels.” Ah, to be so fortunate. Although I have lived in the tropics from time to time, I do not now. Now I live in the middle of the Continental United States which is prone to storms of magnitude and ferocity. This is what two days of a winter storm of magnitude and ferocity looks like.

It began on a Friday night. And actually, was quite beautiful. The forecast had said it would begin with light rain turning to ice. It did. The shiny streaks are the ice crystals, picking up light as they fall.

We brought in stacks of firewood and lighted a fire. Watched television, especially the weather channel, looked outside from time to time. The ice crystals finally turned to snowflakes but there was no wind so we went to bed.

We slept soundly under our feather comfort, sort of like Mr. and Mrs. Claus at the North Pole after the Christmas Eve run. We did hear a thump in the night and got up to see what it was. Between snow and dark, we couldn’t tell but the thump seemed to come from upstairs. Not a good sound. The last time we heard a thump in the house signaled a complete attic to basement rewire. The next morning was still and silent. It had snowed all night. No wind. Just snow and snow and snow.

In early light, at my upstairs window where I sit each morning, I discovered the thump. If you look at the bottom left corner, you will see a lump of snow sort of lying on something. That something turned out to be our window sill, pulled loose by the weight of the snow.

It kept lightly snowing. Two guys came by and offered to shovel our sidewalk for ten dollars. We said okay. Only the front bushes were so heavy with snow, they bowed over the sidewalk making any walking passage or shoveling impossible. So the guys shoveled a bit along the driveway and the front piece of sidewalk. As if that would make any difference.

Cliff took a photo of the back patio before he waded out  to measure: 12″ of snow. That’s a lot of snow.

The sky stayed cloudy and the snow stopped. So did the cable television and the electricity. We built another fire and turned on the gas stove to warm up the place. But first we had to remember how to light said stove since it has electric sparks that catch the gas. Ah, yes. Use a striker. It worked. We did not, however turn on the oven as we couldn’t figure out a way to do that without exploding the place.

But being a farmer’s daughter, I put pots of water on the stove top burners and kept them steaming. It helped a little. We managed to feed ourselves although I can’t remember what we ate. No doubt something simple. Cliff kept putting logs on the fire. I stayed wrapped in a blanket and slept in my clothes that night because I couldn’t face getting undressed.

This was the thump in the night. Snow had pulled wires loose and along with the wire, the window sill and the window covering around it. You can see in a previous photo how the willow was bending over wires from the weight of snow. Why anyone would attach a cable to a vinyl window covering is beyond me, but they had. And the weight of 12″ of snow on our graceful and beautiful willow had weighted them down. With the wires.

At some point Sunday mid-morning. electricity came back on and the furnace and the hot water. We, husband, son, and mom, took showers and went to a neighborhood diner for breakfast.

Monday, I began the task of calling insurance company and contractors. We’d also developed a leak in the upstairs ceiling, so son and I climbed into attic, spread out some big garbage bags and stationed pots and buckets under the leak.

The following days/weeks passed in a blur. An insurance adjuster called, said he’d be in the next day and would call to set up an appointment, but as he was in Wisconsin and a big storm passed through there after here, I don’t know if he came…or was perhaps sent out somewhere else. Many people had a lot more damage than we did. I called the cable folk and asked someone to come out and reattach the cable; called the electric folk and they put a “temporary” (whatever that means) re-connection to the electrical wires. Called the electric installers and they came out and gave an estimate for repairs.

You may remember the rambling post I made about having our entire house rewired. Well. One of the things pulled loose and damaged was the new tubing and weather cap around the new KCPL wire running into the new KCPL box. And if the weather cap leaked, the water could not only short out the KCPL box, but also the new panel in the basement. My son who knows these things, once being an electrician, went out and saran-wrapped the weather head back on the pipe, thus sealing the house against another catastrophe with wiring.  The company who installed the electricity gave me a $1500 estimate for full repairs and re-connection.

I also now have a contractor who will come out, replace the window ledge and repair the stucco, and the window company who will come out and re-wrap the window once the stucco is done. Downside: the stucco can’t be done until the weather warms up. And I’ve engaged a roofer who will come out and re-roof, but again, not until it’s warmer.

I have yet to see an adjuster. The insurance company calls from time to time, but there’s been so much damage to so many houses, not just in Kansas City, but across most of the Midwest, and especially after this latest storm which largely left us untouched, that I expect we may boggle along this way until spring.

The cable person re-attached the downed cable to a spot above the window, hopefully he found a stud, there must be sturdy studs in 1924 built houses, and maybe especially in 1924 built houses, and my son leaned out the top window with his trusty wire cutters and released the mesh wires (mesh wire holds the stucco in place) attached to said window ledge, so it dropped to the ground and is no longer banging against the house. And we, meaning my son using the chain saw and Cliff and me trundling cut up branches to the front curb, severely trimmed the damaged willow much to my sadness. I planted that willow as a baby 9 feet tall, and it now reaches some 35 or so feet. The bees love it in the spring when it buds. I will give it generous food stakes once the weather turns warm. One of my monarch butterfly bushes is damaged and another, in a trellis, is leaning on its side.

It’s Imbolc, the festival of light, midway between winter solstice and spring equinox. The sun returns (yes, Rose, I know you don’t see that rising and falling sun much where you live) and the groundhog, oddly enough, didn’t see its shadow this year. We pray for an early spring.

Light a few candles. It’s not been an easy winter for many. Rejoice in the light.

J.

What else? I don’t know.

Published on by Janet Sunderland22 Comments

I was somewhat surprised to see my last post was in early October. In thinking back to October and November, oh, and also December, and which, in the case of memory, is an iffy project, I have no idea what’s happened.

I know I’ve been culling books and have taken three trips to Half-Price Books to unload extraneous volumes from our voluminous bookshelves; we bought a tree and decorated it; however, a small tree as I wasn’t up to the whole take-out-years-of-ornaments and hang thing this year. And I’ve written and sent book proposals to two reputable publishing houses after my several-month search for an agent proved fruitless. Oddly enough, when I’m writing, I’m able to focus and thoughts and to-dos don’t go dashing through my head.

What else? I don’t know.

Having kept up with journal posts, I could dig them out and see what I did when. Or if. Nothing very remarkable as near as I can remember. But then, as I said, memory is not one of those things that’s working well these days.

For a while, my husband worried I was developing dementia. Well. Being demented comes in all sorts of ways. Demented I can agree to, but I don’t have dementia. Just a rattled head with thoughts dashing past that if I don’t note down on the copious bits and pieces of note pads stacked around, I can’t remember. But I’m not repeating myself, although that might actually help me stay more or less on track.

My solution, instead, was to print out my current astrology chart and to discover, thereby, that all the transiting planets are hitting my natal planets in unseemly ways. Over and over. I showed said chart to husband and said, “See? It’s astrology.”

This, too, shall pass. We hope. However, many of the big and slow moving planets are not going to move out of the picture soon.

When you think about it, however, even in bits and pieces that refuse to stay connected, one can easily see this year, in particular, has been, well, odd is perhaps a non-judgmental way to put it. Nuts is another.

However, the furnace is keeping us warm; we have a supply of wood for fireplace evenings; the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day dinners are planned and shopped for (yes, we have two festive meals) and for the most part the to-dos are done.

Now it’s time to open the wine.

So here’s to you my online friends. May your new year bring you joy, healing, and great bouts of laughter. Thank you for being in my life and bringing your life to mine through your words. Even when I don’t respond, I do read your posts. So, thank you, again.

Happy Solstice. Happy Yule.

J.

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