Ask and you shall receive...

I know I have said before that my dad is incredible.  Let me reiterate that.  Throughout this entire project, he has worked tirelessly to give me a house that I love.  Case in point, my closet.  The first thing I asked for in the master bedroom was a change in my closet doors.  I really don't care for doors that slide back and forth.  I can never see the entire closet and it drives me crazy.  In the Hutch House, I even removed all the closet doors from the upstairs.  I put up curtains instead.  In this house I decided that I didn't want my closet as open, but instead asked Dad if there was anyway I could have french doors on the closet instead.  He made it happen.  What's even better?  We found one of the doors on clearance!  We all love a bargain.

I then said it would be nice to have some shelves in the closet.  Originally I was going to put a dresser in it, but both parents told me that was probably not the way to go.  So after some grumbling on my part and thought on dad's, he came up with a plan.

I went to Lawrence  to proctor AP testing today.  When I came home, my closet was complete.  <3

The doors need to be sized and painted, but it is so roomy and I can Khan Mari to my heart's content!

Forget SUNSHINE, I'm walking on FLOORING!

      Celebrating milestones when working on a house is mandatory, especially when we've been living with subfloors since we closed.  This week was the week we installed floors!  So excited.  Don, Mom, Dad, and I tackled this project, and really, it wasn't too bad.  

       The flooring I chose was EXPRESSA from Menards.  I am usually not indecisive, but this was hard...really hard.  I always knew I wanted a dark flooring upstairs and carpet was a given for the bedroom.  The older I get, the nicer it is to feel soft carpet under my feet when I wake up in the morning.  ;-)  Anyway, after looking at almost every flooring place in the city and second guessing myself MULTIPLE times, I went with this.  For the basement, however, I wanted to go with something lighter.  We purchased it all and had Menards holding our stash in the back room.  Sigh.  Then I started second guessing some more.  The lighter shade I picked out for the basement was chosen after looking at samples online.  I saw the picture of it when I was in the actual store after the purchase.  Now some may think I am picky, but I really thought the lighter finish made the floor look striped. After talking with  mom, who is not afraid to return anything...she returned a Corvette once...I decided to return it.  The people at Menards have the patience of Job.  Really.  One kid in particular was stuck waiting on us every time we came in.  Poor guy.  The flooring was returned and I decided to go with the same dark that I chose for the upstairs.  Problem was, they were out of it and there was no way to even back-order it.  AHHHH!  Mom and Dad to the rescue again.  They were headed to a birthday party in Frankfurt, Kansas.  They spent the night, got up early, and headed to two different Menards in Nebraska to get the rest of the boxes I needed.  Wow, right?

Doesn't this look striped to you?  Ick.

       Obviously I was excited when we got started today!  We fell into a decent rhythm, figuring out that the flooring had to be at a 45 degree angle in order to get it to lock together.  "45 Amy, 45..." became the phrase Don hollered out for the rest of the day.  I absolutely LOVE IT!  The upstairs flooring is done and it is beautiful!

Wall Art

So I put up the first, and so far only,  decor in my house today...this sign.  Now some of you "House Beautiful" - "Martha Stewart", I-wouldn't-put-up-anything-in-my-house-that-wasn't-out-of-a-magazine types will hate it.  That's just fine.  I happen to love it, and it brings me joy.  What is it?  Well, it was inspired by the show Everybody Loves Raymond (a fave).  There was an episode called Baggage.  Ray and Debra go on vacation and it's late when they come home.  The suitcase is left on the steps.  Several days and then weeks go by and neither of them will move the suitcase because they think the other should.  It becomes a hilarious silent , then public war.  Ray hides some Roquefort cheese in the bag before leaving on a business trip, infuriating Debra when she finally noticed the smell.  More hilarity ensues.  Marie Barone, may she rest in peace, gave this sage advice to Debra at the end of show, "Don't let a suitcase full of cheese be your big fork and spoon"...you'll have to watch it to understand the meaning.  Whimsy in a house never hurt anyone.  In fact, it brings me joy.

Apendi..what?

If this project has taught me anything, it's that God felt I needed a lesson in patience and rolling with the punches.  It has also taught me how lucky I am to have wonderful administrators and a job I can do from anywhere.

Favorite son, Conor, called me as I was finishing up a class.  Seems he had some major stomach pains and left his school (he's a Social Studies teacher) to head to same-day care.  There, they told him it was 90% possible that it was his appendix and that they would need to do surgery by the end of the day.  Wha......t!?!

Now, please understand that while I would NEVER invite nor give myself the label "helicopter parent", any time that there is a possibility of someone cutting into one of my children, I'm going to be there.  That fact together with the mom guilt I still have over not being five minutes down the road anymore had me throwing necessities in a bag and hitting the road in under 20 minutes.  As a side note let me say that I had to let LVS know that I was "leaving" for the day and that I would be unavailable to teach my afternoon class, by email, and by phone.  I was astonished at the response.  First, my principal called me and left a message...then texted to make sure I was ok.  Then came the emails from coworkers sending prayers and well wishes.  What a fabulous place to work!

I arrived in Hutchinson about the same time that Conor was told he had "appendagitis".  What does a kind, caring, English teacher mom do?  I corrected his pronunciation...
Me:  It's pronounced appendicitis
Con:  No.
Me:  Really, Conor?  It is called appendicitis.
Con:  Mom, it's really called appendagitis...Google it.  (Secretly shaking his head and wondering when he can take another pill...)

So I did.  Epiploic appendagitis (EA) is an uncommon, benign, non-surgical, self-limiting inflammatory process of the epiploic appendices. Other, older terms for the process include appendicitis epiploica and appendagitis, but these terms are used less now in order to avoid confusion with acute appendicitis.

Who knew, right?  So much to his delight, he was not facing surgery.  Instead, he got a nice prescription for some hydrocodone and orders to hit the couch and stay there until whatever was going on untwisted itself.

Again, I am lucky that I have a job I can do from any spot that has an internet connection.  And, we are all thankful that Conor didn't have to go under the knife.  <3

LAUNDRY!

Ok, who knew I would be so excited about a laundry room, right?  But I have a room - not a spot in an unfinished basement...a room!  AND...it is done!  The first room in the house is now painted, plumbed, and filled with appliances!  Woot!  Many thanks to Dad and Don the Dentist for the hard work on this room.  Don was also responsible for my shelving and my hooks.  I.  Am.  Thrilled!

Don the Dentist

Don is a terrific guy.  My parents met Don and his wife Cindy at their Corvette Club.  They hit it off immediately.  I am amazed and forever thankful for  the amount of time and energy he has put into this "project".  Here are a few things I know to be true about Don:
1.  He likes projects.
2.  Cheetos are his favorite snack food.
3.  He is pretty partial to Arby's Jamoca shake as well.
4.  He LOVES Berber carpet and is disappointed in me for not putting it in the basement.
5.  He has "more moves than a can of worms".
6.  He is the calm in the storm when Dad and I start to bicker.
7.  He has an eye for color and decorating.
8.  When asked how long it will take to do XYZ in the house, his typical response is "about 15 minutes".
9.  My dogs like him so he must be "good people"
10.  Dentist should be phonetically pronounced "den teest".  :-)

Aunts and Uncles

This really is the house that "the mature people" built.  (I still can't get used to calling them "old people").  As I have been introducing the work crew to everyone, I would be remiss if I left out Uncle John and Aunt Carolyn.

These two are truly the salt of the earth.  An octagenarian and septuagenarian respectively, they are some of the hardest workers I have ever seen...at any age!  They show up bright and early, ready to roll.  Meanwhile, the rest of us are easing into the day, lingering over another cup of coffee, or bird walking to random subjects, instead of diving in.

They have painted, pulled nails, scrubbed walls, and cleaned, cleaned, cleaned.  Truly, I can't tell you how astonishing it is.  I can only hope to get myself in better shape now so I can be half as agile as they are when I am their age.  What's more, they are both stellar examples of Christianity.  They talk the talk, but they walk the walk as well.  I am so grateful and blessed to be surrounded by such terrific examples and so much love.

The day the music died...

Today was a professional development day in Lawrence.  It's always great to get together and collaborate, especially because we rarely get to do so.  We were taking a break after our morning session when I checked my facebook.  Post after post revealed that Prince had died.  I have to admit, I gasped.  You see it in movies and read about it in novels and I have to say I always thought the gasp was a tad dramatic...until I did so myself.  I can't say why I was so shocked.  Perhaps it was because Prince was an integral part of my teenage years.  I saw Purple Rain a handful of times and wore the vinyl album down so much that his incredible voice and rebellious lyrics were interspersed with pops and cracks.  Maybe it was because Prince had always been a trailblazer and someone who seemed larger than life.  Or maybe it was because he was always unapologetically himself in a world that demands conformity.  Who knows, really.  All I know is that when others in that room heard me gasp and questioned the reason, they were just as shocked as I was when I revealed the answer.  He was that kind of musician.  I know the next few days will be filled with speculation about his death, tributes to his music and his life, and a country blanketed in purple.  I will forever remember singing When Doves Cry into my hairbrush as a kid and dancing in an alley in the rain with my friends to Let's Go Crazy...one thing to remember, there is no idolizing where Prince is concerned.  Instead, there is a great appreciation for an artist whose music left an indelible mark on my teenage years and whose music can take me back to that alley in a heartbeat.

We have interrupted this program...

Life, work, family - those things are far more important that this house or my need to finally sit on my couch.  That said, a few things have sidelined the project lately.

First and foremost would be Dad and his ticker.   He had a triple bypass (diabetes is a bitch) a few years ago and now has been diagnosed with pericarditis.  The way to fix it? Another open heart surgery.  (Insert expletives here.)  To double check those results, he has had to undergo a battery of tests.  His latest was a heart cath.  He was terrific and I can honestly say although there is some anger there that this has happened, he is handling things very well...much better than I would be.  He will have some decisions to make once all the tests come back.  Will he undergo another surgery, or will he continue to be out of breath and deal with all the resulting side effects of this issue.  Stay tuned.

Another bump in the road is my job...lol.  It's not a bump, as it puts food on the table and I love it.  Prom was the actual speed bump during the beginning week of April.  Even though we are a virtual school and kids attend at their houses and I teach at mine, we are always on the lookout for times for them to interact face-to-face.  Prom is one of those times.  This year's theme - the 80s.  Really?  When did I become old enough for people to dress up like I did in my teen years and think it's funny?  When did my music become something to snicker at?  I mean we had Prince, Devo, Madonna, and Culture Club...these goofballs have Justin Beiber for goodness sake.  Anyway, I was the decorating chair for prom, so I borrowed mom's glue gun (I have no idea where mine is), hit Michaels and Hobby Lobby and went to town to create centerpieces for the tables.  It turned out pretty nicely if I do say so myself.

More than I ever needed to know about...Toilets

As far as I'm concerned there are only a handful of things I need to know about toilets.  They include:

• They are necessary to all human beings.
• All human beings who don't have to sit SHOULD PUT THE SEAT DOWN for those of us who do...so we don't fall in.
• All human beings who have no aim what-so-ever should sit no matter what, basically nullifying the need for the second bullet point.
• Cleaning them sucks.

See, I think that's a pretty good list.  I was wrong.  Horribly wrong.  Apparently one needs to know the dimensions of the  different parts.   My understanding is that the people should by a 3" flush valve and at least a 2-inch outlet. This is especially important when flushing.  There is a definite wooshing sound instead of the slow circle and the possibility of remnants in the bowl (All Ally McBeal fans should remember that reference!)   Oh and the taller ones are more comfortable for people my age and above.  WHHHHHAAAAAATTTT?  I just want to take care of my business and get outta there.  I don't linger, nor do I understand those who do.  I just wanted to go to Menards, buy a stool and get out.  Done. 

Sigh.  My education in all things home improvement is growing, and I am happy to day I am now the proud owner of a new toilet for the hall bathroom.  All visitors will marvel over the awesomeness of said toilet, I am sure.  Plus, if they linger, their legs won't fall asleep because the toilet is taller than standard.  Mic drop!  Lol.

Home again, home again, jiggity jog...

I'm back in Topeka.  For good.  All my loose ends in Hutch are now tied up and I am here, here.  I am not, however, living in my house yet.  I am still at mom and dad's house.  They  have been incredible.  Our late night planning talks are great, seeing them as the day is getting started is wonderful, and I am thankful.  But, I am not living in my house.  I know I sound like a spoiled brat when I say that and I don't mean to sound gritchy...I just want to live in my house.  I want to let the girls out to potty in a fenced in yard, I want them to have the run of the house, I want internet that is reliable, and I want to live in my house.  Lol.  Basically, I am just excited and want the place to start feeling like home.  I am a gun-jumper for sure.  However, I am totally ok with living in it as long as I can do the following things:

1. Use the restroom.
2. Shower.
3. Make coffee.

There you have it!  That's the goal for the next week.  I am excited to say that I was able to start painting the kitchen.  It's so fun to see things start to come together!

Back to Hutch...

In this family, we never seem to do things the easy way.  Conor and Rhyanna will start their spring break this week and ---- drumroll please------they will close on their new house!  They just bought a move-in-ready cute, cute, house in Hutchison.  What they didn't bank on was the fact that Brig would be living with the until she graduates AND that they'd be my hotel for three days right when they move in.  My spring break is in the books and when I returned today, I had to proctor state assessments in Wichita.  So, for the next three days, the girls(canines) and I will be staying with them.  Yes, that's four adults and four dogs all together with mounds of boxes a new house to get unpacked.  Life is truly never dull.  

It was so fun to be a part of their new house.  They've done a terrific job scheduling all the necessities (alarm company, cable, internet, water, gas, electric) and are now dealing with the revolving door of people coming to install.  I got to help set up part of their living room, went to purchase a ladder with Conor, and basically got to see two young people totally and completely handle things on their own.  They've got this, and that makes not being five minutes down the road a little bit easier.

I am so happy for them...and their dogs.  :-)

Under the weather...

Mom and I are sick as dogs.  (Where did that expression come from, anyway?)  I think it's a combination of drywall dust, seasonal allergies, mold, and exhaustion, but we are done for and are taking the weekend off.

We have walls!

Jim, the drywall guy, has been here all week.  He is a terrific guy and he and dad worked  hard to get all the walls, patches, etc. done.  It is so nice to walk into the basement and see actual walls!  Now the  painting can begin.   Progress for sure!

My Dad has superpowers...

       He may not have a cape or a Batmobile, but truly, my dad has  superpowers.  They include the ability to rattle of measurements in 16ths and 8ths - which has had me stymied since grade school.  (Note:  Somebody needs to make a tape measure for dummies that has all of that printed on it.  I would buy one.  Many people I know would buy one.  They'd be a millionaire!) He's an electrician, plumber, drywall expert, painting guru, master woodworker, and so much more.  Jealous?  You should be.
     The only problem with this scenario is that he truly has to be a part of each and every job in the house.  He is constantly being pulled off one task to advise on another.  This causes the  inevitable "Where'd I put that tool?" conversation and hunt around the house and ticks him off to boot.
     Now not everything on this project is sunshine and roses.  Dad and I can clash.  He is a perfectionist and I am an "it's perfect enough and nobody will notice if it's off by 1/100th of an inch".  This can cause friction because I drive him nuts.
The nice thing is that most of the time we can laugh our irritation off and at the end of the day it's
forgotten.
     Another issue is that he's worked so hard on this house that he's injured his wrist.  He has exaggerated tendonitis in his wrist and has to wear a brace.  We know when it's been a particularly hard day when he's rubbing it at the dinner table.  Ice follows, but what he really needs is rest.   Do you think that slows him down?  Nope! I don't know if I will ever be able to thank him for all he's done for me.  I hope he knows how much I love him...not for the things he does, but for the man he is.  <3
   

2 steps forward, 3 back

It's spring break!  My poor parents have no idea what a break is, let alone spring break.  They accomplished a ton while I was in Hutchinson.  They also made some new discoveries that none of us were too happy about.

The cat smell has been the bane of my mom's existence.  She has tackled that like a Wildcat on a Jayhawk and she's winning.  Thank goodness.  We began by researching what in the world one uses to get the smell of cat urine out of concrete and wood.  Apparently, we are not the only ones who've had this problem.  (Again, what are people thinking?)  People recommended all kinds of crazy things.  We tried severalbut then found some advice online that seemed consistent across the board.

Here was her process:

1. Scrub the floor.
2. Scrub the floor with vinegar.
3. Vacuum the floor to get up the dried crystals brought up by the vinegar.
4. Pour on more vinegar.
5. Repeat number 3.
6. Scrub the floor with TSP.
7. Paint the floor with BIN.  

That's quite a process, right?  I am really amazed at how well it has worked.   Note, though, that if you have this issue, the vinegar will bring out the cat smell and you'll want to bang your head into a wall thinking nothing is working.   Once it's vacuumed up and number 7 happens, it'll put a smile on your face!

Cry me a river...

     Ok, usually I wouldn't categorize myself as an overly emotional person.  Yes, I happen to cry every time I see that Folgers commercial where the son surprises his parents by coming home for Christmas and wakes them up with the smell of freshly brewed coffee.  I can't help it...it gets me.  And of course, Hallmark Hall of Fame movies make me cry.  I think the writers of those things sit around contemplating how to rip the hearts of viewers to shreds Finally, when I am so completely, utterly, infuriated and have no way to voice my opinions without damaging a relationship or getting fired, I cry (and that pisses me off even more).  Anyway, in my normal day-to-day, I am not a crier.   That was SO not true this past weekend.  Holy moly the floodgates opened.  Brig and I were busy loading the truck Saturday morning and we both ended up in the shed out back.  I looked at her and told her how much I was going to miss her. I shouldn't have done that.  We were both a giant heap of bawling mess.  Then I walked into my empty bedroom and it started all over again. AHHHHH!
     Although I have not enjoyed Hutchinson (for many reasons), it has been home for over 20 years.  Brigid took her first steps in that house.  She learned to walk, talk, and grew into an extraordinary young woman.  Conor went through school in that house.  He played sports, practiced shooting hoops in the driveway, posed for prom and first-day-of-school pics, and came back to live while student teaching in that house.  While some view a  dwelling as a place made up of studs, sheetrock, and flooring, I have always needed and cultivated a nest for me and my family.  So, leaving this particular nest with all its memories finally hit me and took my feet out from under me.
     I am excited about the future and what it holds, but this past weekend was full of memories relived and closing the door to that chapter of our lives.  That stung a tad...more than I thought it would.

Going "Home"

I am back in Hutchinson for a week to officially finish packing, load the truck and move.  I feel SUPER guilty leaving "The Crew" in Topeka working on the house without me.  Brig is quickly realizing she is about to be a displaced person.  Each day she walks into the house and sees more boxes added to the maze, the more her face shuts down and her irritation rises.  I really do wish the timing of the move would have been a bit different, but my plans and God's plans are not always in sync.  

Here was the house before the packing began:

It's been a really weird week.  There's guilt for leaving mom and dad working in Topeka, excitement and trepidation about a new move, and a melancholy feeling about leaving the house and Hutch that I never thought I would have.  

Today, Friday, my sister Michelle arrived to help me get the Uhaul and get the loading underway.  She had no problem hopping into the driver's seat of a 26ft. truck.   She cracks me up.  We loaded most of the boxes ourselves, this evening.  Everyone will be here early in the morning to help with the moving process.  Gulp.  

     I have to say, it feels surreal that after 20 years and millions of memories, this house will not be "home" anymore.  

Water, water, everywhere...

I never knew the ramifications of a house sitting empty, before now.  Apparently, pipes that aren't used for an extended amount of time need to be "redone".  Again, I am no Einstien with the lingo, all I know is that things are leaking.  All.  Of.  The.  Things.  From the kitchen sink and the master shower, to the laundry hook ups and the basement toilet, things are wet.  The look on my dad's face says it all!  I know he is wondering what in the heck he got himself into.  There is only one of him and a million things wrong with the house.  Don't get me wrong, the rest of us aren't sitting around eating bon-bons while he is working himself to death.  We are cleaning, removing trim, scrubbing dirt etc.  The problem is, none of the rest of us have the skill set that Dad has.  Ugh.  These pictures are what I came home to after teaching today.  Apparently, the master shower has been leaking for some time and thank goodness it was discovered before the drywall guy came.  A day without surprises would be terrific!

Let the cleaning begin...

This house is DISGUSTING.  Truly.  I have no idea how people live the way they live.  Today was a bit of a freak out for me.  I arrived early to the house to meet the security alarm guy and discovered some more fun surprises in the basement and in the vents.   I found cat/dog/unknown origin feces EVERYWHERE in the basement.  Because the previous owners had a sewage backup, the forclosure people came in and removed the bottom three feet of drywall throughout the basement.  Next to the studs, around the hot water heater, and yes, even in the fireplace, we found evidence of feline/canine "messes".  I was shocked.  After spying those goodies I noticed the air vents as I did another walk through of the upstairs.  The vents were FULL of...crap.  Not literal crap (well, some) but toys, hair ties, dirt, food, etc.  Whhhhhaaaaaattttt?????



Then, of course, I had to leave my "crew" at the house while I tottled off to a coffee shop to teach class.   When I returned, things were well underway.  My parents and my aunt and uncle can clean like nobody's business.   This process may take a lot longer than we all thought.

"Closing Time"

       "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end".  Wow is that the truth!  I could get philosophical and discuss how this is a new beginning, it's kind of scary and exciting at the same time, and that I am feeling pretty melancholy about leaving my kids in Hutch, even though I am 100% ok with my choice to move...but I won't bore anyone about that.
       Today I closed on my new house.  Honestly, it doesn't feel like my house.  Instead, it feels like this messy, smelly, complicated shell for which I am now responsible.  Has anyone else ever felt that way after buying a new house?  Anyway, after closing, I made my way to what my parents and I are now lovingly calling "The Cat House".  Why?  The previous owners (who were asked to vacate) had animals.  Lots.  Of.  Animals.  And, it seems, they let these animals have the run of the basement.  The laundry room and fireplace became litter boxes, while a portion of the basement, I'm told, was a labor and delivery room for a Chihuahua - she later used the rest of the basement as a daycare for her offspring.  So, you can imagine the aroma as I entered the house after closing.  My mom's words of "NO!", which were said vehemently when we opened the door at the showing of the house, rang through my head and I began to wonder if I truly was crazy for taking on a project of this magnitude.         My parents, whose ages I will not reveal :-), are my work crew at this house.  They are both retired and have a work ethic that puts me to shame.  There is never really "down time" with them - no pausing to check in on Facebook or to crush some candy, no let's take the day off today, no "Grey's Anatomy is on, we should watch it"...they are WORKERS, and I am ashamed because I am already tired and we haven't even started yet.   They have enlisted my aunt and uncle for help as well.  What's funny about this is, they happen to be a few years senior to my parents.  All are retired.  So in my blog description where I say that this is the house that old people built, I'm not kidding!  And, I did not come up with that phrase, my mom did, so it's ok.
      Here is a look at the house as it is now:

Those are just a few pictures of the "befores".  Wish us luck!