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!