If you want to accomplish a task while thinking, repainting the knick-knack cabinet is not a bad thing to do. As I covered the old paint with new, I began to think about last Sunday.
On that day, instead of my usual Sunday afternoon pursuits, I accepted the invitation of the local bishop to participate in St. Anthony Cathedral's grand celebration of their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic church. Along with religious leaders of other denominations and faiths, I truly enjoyed the experience, especially since it is all too rare that our faith communities gather in worship, and felt welcomed to be a participant in this event.
And yet, I didn't feel welcomed.
One of the songs during the worship had to do with everyone being "welcome in this place". As I sang along, I felt the irony of not being completely welcomed into this community as a woman called by God to serve as a leader of a congregation, in effect a priest, and as a Protestant not completely welcomed into the celebration of the Lord's Supper.
There is a dichotomy of welcome.
It's a dichotomy that one is not particularly aware of until you discover that, in some respect or another, you are indeed an "outsider", not truly welcomed into complete community, not completely part of the "family". There is welcome and there is "Welcome!"
As I thought about this, I thought about our own worship services and meetings. On Thursday at our Session meeting, I unthinkingly ended our meeting as I usually do after someone makes a motion to adjourn, "All in favor, please stand and join hands in prayer." Oops! We have a person on our Session who has recently begun to have difficulty standing. Did I inadvertently exclude her by making it seem she was not in favor if adjourning? Well, yes and no. We're a small group, and everyone understood what was happening, but I certainly could have been more inclusive in my invitation.
When we celebrate Communion, we do have several people who are not members, and a couple who are Catholic, who worship with us. Our invitation to the Table is fairly open, "All who trust in the Lord are invited to the Table which He has prepared." Yet our Catholic friends honor their faith tradition and do not partake of the feast.
A guest speaker at seminary spoke of his wife's Buddhist parents attending his worship service where Communion was served. He knew that his mother-in-law probably didn't have the foggiest idea of what was happening, yet she came forward for the meal. Should he single her out and not serve her? Or should he trust that God could handle the situation and include her in this faith-meal of the community? He chose to trust God.
In the work of the governing bodies of the church, I serve on a committee whose purpose is to lift up those areas where we have been exclusive in choosing the leaders of our church. Historically, various racial/ethnic groups have been left out of leadership roles, and that is the most obvious area people think of when looking at inequity.
At various times and in a variety of ways, we have not been particularly welcoming to women, clergy or lay; youth and young adults; and those with disabilities or differently abled. Sometimes we aren't even aware that we have turned away those whose call is to serve within the smaller congregation, or who don't happen to already live conveniently within the main urban area where meetings tend to be held, or whose work and family schedules don't fit comfortably into meeting structures we've forged into place. It's all too easy to simply put things together "the way it's always been done", without realizing that perhaps we are excluding those who can't easily arrive on the leadership dais because there is no ramp and they are in a wheelchair or who don't have the necessary materials because they were provided on hardcopy but not available in a format their adaptive technology could handle. In what ways do we exclude those who don't have a handle on Robert's Rules of Order, but manage quite gracefully in a more collaborative manner?
In what ways do we say, "Welcome, but, no, you aren't truly WELCOME!?"
Gee, those are mighty deep thoughts for one rather small knick-knack shelf! But then again, maybe it isn't the size of the shelf or the thoughts that matter. Perhaps what is more important is to become aware of the dichotomy of welcome which exists in our daily and corporate lives, and learn what it means to be truly Welcoming of others. I'd think the world would be a much nicer place if we could all figure that out and then live it.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
When the Dust Settles
If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. I think I moved in almost TWO houses worth of stuff when I came back home. Another hurricane seems to have made an appearance in the past week.
My head knows that most of this stuff will end up back in my file cabinets, in my drawers, on my shelves, and back on my walls, just where it was when I "evacuated" it at varying and sundry times over the past two years. At the moment, it's sprawled all over the floors in my living room, bedroom, office, den, and hallway.
I've managed to put bits and pieces of it away. Then I get overwhelmed by the absolute MASS of it and flee the area.
Not before I've stirred up enough dust to set off a sneeze attack. ACHOO!! ACHOO!! (and so on for about 10 minutes)
Then there's the stuff that hasn't been used for two years, and has forgotten what it's supposed to do to operate. There's a bit of a chill in the air ... and the house. Seems the pilot light needs to be lit on the heater, and I'm too much of a dolt to figure out how to get into the unit to light it.
Hope reigns eternal, though.
If my handyfriend doesn't make it here this weekend, there are two or three other people who can help me out. At least it's not too cold yet.
It would also be helpful if we could manage to get the curtain rods hung, so I can put up my thermal curtains. Double paned windows cut down on the heat transfer, but they don't eliminate it. There was a bit of a chill down the back of my neck this morning. Brrrrr!
And there are other minor frustrations, as well. Guess life wouldn't be normal without them. *chuckle*
So, when the dust settles, I'm going to get things organized and then .....
IT'S OPEN HOUSE TIME!! LET'S PARTY!!
My head knows that most of this stuff will end up back in my file cabinets, in my drawers, on my shelves, and back on my walls, just where it was when I "evacuated" it at varying and sundry times over the past two years. At the moment, it's sprawled all over the floors in my living room, bedroom, office, den, and hallway.
I've managed to put bits and pieces of it away. Then I get overwhelmed by the absolute MASS of it and flee the area.
Not before I've stirred up enough dust to set off a sneeze attack. ACHOO!! ACHOO!! (and so on for about 10 minutes)
Then there's the stuff that hasn't been used for two years, and has forgotten what it's supposed to do to operate. There's a bit of a chill in the air ... and the house. Seems the pilot light needs to be lit on the heater, and I'm too much of a dolt to figure out how to get into the unit to light it.
Hope reigns eternal, though.
If my handyfriend doesn't make it here this weekend, there are two or three other people who can help me out. At least it's not too cold yet.
It would also be helpful if we could manage to get the curtain rods hung, so I can put up my thermal curtains. Double paned windows cut down on the heat transfer, but they don't eliminate it. There was a bit of a chill down the back of my neck this morning. Brrrrr!
And there are other minor frustrations, as well. Guess life wouldn't be normal without them. *chuckle*
So, when the dust settles, I'm going to get things organized and then .....
IT'S OPEN HOUSE TIME!! LET'S PARTY!!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Fun and Frustration
First, the fun!
This afternoon, St. Anthony's Cathedral celebrated their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic diocese. The bishop invited local clergy of all faiths to attend and be part of the processional, wearing the traditional garb of their faith. It was really cool!
In addition to five Christian denominations being represented (Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Episcopal, and Presbyterian), the Jewish, Bhuddist, and Hindu faiths were present. As the Honorably Retired Presbyterian minister serving the Lutheran church as interim stated, "Leave it to the Catholics to do a celebration up right!"
I'd never realized that there were so many lay organizations within the Catholic church. The honor guard was made up of members of the Knights of Columbus and another group called the Knights of Peter Clavel (I think that's his name. I left the bulletin in the car and am too lazy to get it.) The order on the processional put the interfaith leaders right behind a group called the Knights and Ladies of the Sepulchre. Each of these groups were absolutely decked out in some incredible "uniform" finery. Tricorn-ish hats with bright feathers in them, colorful sashes, various kinds of crosses, and the honor guard came equipped with swords. And that was just the laity! Pageantry to the max!
This particular celebration included the designation of the Cathedral as a minor basillica, so there were some additional pieces that are particularly identified with basillicas - a special type of umbrella and a special bell (a tintinabulum - I think that's what it's called). Of course, there were various Catholic clergy present and involved: 3 archbishops (one who's just been designated as a cardinal) and 7 bishops, plus about 10-15 priests and deacons. Altar boys and girls, attendants from the various ethnic groups represented in the area, and music abounded.
All in all, it was an honor to be invited and I had a grand time. It was my first high mass, and, while there were things that would obviously be different, it was intriguing to see how much of what we Presbyterians do that are the same. We aren't quite as far apart as it sometimes seems. Well, except for the hierarchy and no women, and few married, priests and all that bowing and kneeling and a bit of a different understanding of just what happens when you celebrate Communion and "trespassers and those who trespass against us" instead of "debts and debtors" and, what is it about all those sacraments? *sigh* Ok - maybe a bit more than it looked on the surface, but still ...
So now for the frustration:
I just got my Roadrunner set up yesterday. All is good. It does work ... as long as I'm tethered to the cable connection. My gameplan was to set up the system for wireless. I have the router. I have the installation CD. I have very carefully followed the instructions, Oh!, 10 or so times. Is the router hooked up to the system and letting me get to the internet? NO!! Of course not!!
It seems I need a username and password. The cd doesn't tell you that the router needs to be registered before you install it. I now have a username and password. Do they work? Of course not!! I tend to be an idiot when it comes to computer hardware stuff, but this appears to be such a simple thing. Plug in, let the computer make sure it's working right, unplug this, swap out that, replug in this, hook that to the powersource, and Voila! wireless internet! Right? You'd think. So, of course, my computer guru, who understands that I'm absolute hell on working computers, isn't available to talk me through it and probably won't be in town before next weekend. *very deep sigh*
At least I had a good time this afternoon!
This afternoon, St. Anthony's Cathedral celebrated their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic diocese. The bishop invited local clergy of all faiths to attend and be part of the processional, wearing the traditional garb of their faith. It was really cool!
In addition to five Christian denominations being represented (Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Episcopal, and Presbyterian), the Jewish, Bhuddist, and Hindu faiths were present. As the Honorably Retired Presbyterian minister serving the Lutheran church as interim stated, "Leave it to the Catholics to do a celebration up right!"
I'd never realized that there were so many lay organizations within the Catholic church. The honor guard was made up of members of the Knights of Columbus and another group called the Knights of Peter Clavel (I think that's his name. I left the bulletin in the car and am too lazy to get it.) The order on the processional put the interfaith leaders right behind a group called the Knights and Ladies of the Sepulchre. Each of these groups were absolutely decked out in some incredible "uniform" finery. Tricorn-ish hats with bright feathers in them, colorful sashes, various kinds of crosses, and the honor guard came equipped with swords. And that was just the laity! Pageantry to the max!
This particular celebration included the designation of the Cathedral as a minor basillica, so there were some additional pieces that are particularly identified with basillicas - a special type of umbrella and a special bell (a tintinabulum - I think that's what it's called). Of course, there were various Catholic clergy present and involved: 3 archbishops (one who's just been designated as a cardinal) and 7 bishops, plus about 10-15 priests and deacons. Altar boys and girls, attendants from the various ethnic groups represented in the area, and music abounded.
All in all, it was an honor to be invited and I had a grand time. It was my first high mass, and, while there were things that would obviously be different, it was intriguing to see how much of what we Presbyterians do that are the same. We aren't quite as far apart as it sometimes seems. Well, except for the hierarchy and no women, and few married, priests and all that bowing and kneeling and a bit of a different understanding of just what happens when you celebrate Communion and "trespassers and those who trespass against us" instead of "debts and debtors" and, what is it about all those sacraments? *sigh* Ok - maybe a bit more than it looked on the surface, but still ...
So now for the frustration:
I just got my Roadrunner set up yesterday. All is good. It does work ... as long as I'm tethered to the cable connection. My gameplan was to set up the system for wireless. I have the router. I have the installation CD. I have very carefully followed the instructions, Oh!, 10 or so times. Is the router hooked up to the system and letting me get to the internet? NO!! Of course not!!
It seems I need a username and password. The cd doesn't tell you that the router needs to be registered before you install it. I now have a username and password. Do they work? Of course not!! I tend to be an idiot when it comes to computer hardware stuff, but this appears to be such a simple thing. Plug in, let the computer make sure it's working right, unplug this, swap out that, replug in this, hook that to the powersource, and Voila! wireless internet! Right? You'd think. So, of course, my computer guru, who understands that I'm absolute hell on working computers, isn't available to talk me through it and probably won't be in town before next weekend. *very deep sigh*
At least I had a good time this afternoon!
Monday, October 15, 2007
I'm HOME!
Much still to do, but I'm home!!
Please excuse the wild dancing throughout the place, but I just can't help myself. It's been over two years and I almost can't believe I made it.
There's a certain level of disarray that still exists. Mostly of the "can't do that until something else is done first" variety. I'm currently sitting on the floor, using the phone chord in the disheveled office to connect to the internet. Roadrunner and cable don't arrive until Saturday.
But this part I've been through before any time I've moved. There are curtains to put up and pictures to rehang and knick-knacks to put on their appointed shelves.
Why is it that when you move new furniture into a room for the first (or second or third) time, it never quite fits the way you expect it to? Easily solved, but a bit frustrating.
I will have to admit that this is the first time I've liked my bathroom since I moved into the house. The pink-paint-from-hell is gone (well, at least where paint is regularly visible) and I have a new mirror and light fixture. Of course, the shower stall has been replaced and looks really cool. Progress!
Now that we're here, though, I've discovered that someone apparently decided that my complete set of extended Lord of the Rings dvd's would make a nice addition to their collection. It's not definitive, yet, but they sure seem suspiciously missing. It's not like there was someone hovering around every minute to keep things from walking off, but I'm rather miffed. Harumph! At least they didn't take the dvd player, too.
In any case, I'm home! I hope I remember how to sleep in my waterbed. It's been such a long time!
Excuse me, but I think I'm going to get back to my happy dance!
Later!
Please excuse the wild dancing throughout the place, but I just can't help myself. It's been over two years and I almost can't believe I made it.
There's a certain level of disarray that still exists. Mostly of the "can't do that until something else is done first" variety. I'm currently sitting on the floor, using the phone chord in the disheveled office to connect to the internet. Roadrunner and cable don't arrive until Saturday.
But this part I've been through before any time I've moved. There are curtains to put up and pictures to rehang and knick-knacks to put on their appointed shelves.
Why is it that when you move new furniture into a room for the first (or second or third) time, it never quite fits the way you expect it to? Easily solved, but a bit frustrating.
I will have to admit that this is the first time I've liked my bathroom since I moved into the house. The pink-paint-from-hell is gone (well, at least where paint is regularly visible) and I have a new mirror and light fixture. Of course, the shower stall has been replaced and looks really cool. Progress!
Now that we're here, though, I've discovered that someone apparently decided that my complete set of extended Lord of the Rings dvd's would make a nice addition to their collection. It's not definitive, yet, but they sure seem suspiciously missing. It's not like there was someone hovering around every minute to keep things from walking off, but I'm rather miffed. Harumph! At least they didn't take the dvd player, too.
In any case, I'm home! I hope I remember how to sleep in my waterbed. It's been such a long time!
Excuse me, but I think I'm going to get back to my happy dance!
Later!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Mental Exhaustion
Or is it physical? Or spiritual? Maybe a bit of each, perhaps.
Part of it is that I keep crashing into brick walls. Not literal ones, but the ones set up by expectations and hopes that never quite pan out, at least not yet.
Since I last posted, there have been at least three dates set for the finish-up work to be accomplished at my house. On two of those, the friend who's doing the work couldn't make it. Then yesterday, when he did come, our time was spent on all manner of things that needed to be done, but we still didn't accomplish the main task. There is progress, but it feels so infinitisimal in comparison to my desire to sleep in my own bed again that I really just want to cry. But can't. So even that feels stuck.
I look at the things that need to be finished and feel overwhelmed. Then I just tend to wander from one partial task to another.
This weekend I began to work on removing the brighter-than-Pepto-bismol pink paint from my bathroom. What started out as a semi-reasonable, but relatively simple, task quickly turned into the paint removal from hell. Did you know that there was once used something my friend called "iron paint"? Well, that's what they used in my bathroom. I used every kind of sandpaper imaginable and didn't even make a dent in the texture of the paint. My son had used a whole container of paint stripper on the stuff and had managed to get bits and pieces of it off, but not what you'd usually expect.
One frantic phone call to friend later ended up with me headed to the handy-dandy hardware store for paint deglosser. That stuff is just plain nasty! And even that didn't make a dent in it until I used steel wool on the paint to just barely score it so the deglosser could do its thing. I managed to complete the doorframe and the bathroom cabinet. Now all I have to do is degloss the cabinets under the sink, prime and then anoint that pup with two coats of paint. That's what it took to finally banish the offending color.
Perhaps my exhaustion has something to do with yesterday. I finally got the kitchen completely cleaned up. There is no more roofing soot and grime and bits and pieces of wood lurking on my appliances and counters. You wouldn't know it by looking at it, though. Within a few hours of completion, there's all kinds of crap and clutter and stuff permeating the room.
Then again, it could be the garage door that decided to come unhinged from the ceiling as the garage door opener was opening the door, and proceeded to smash one of the windows in the door ... after all the stores were closed for the night, of course. I am glad my friend was there, otherwise, I would have been completely befuddled by what to do with a garage door stuck in 3/4 open position. Sleep in the garage? I don't think so.
My friend was able to complete a temporary? fix on the garage door through a midnight run to Wally World for bolts and a garbage bag and tape concoction over the gaping hole.
My mission between now and Thursday? (A day later than I was hoping to actually sleep in my bed, btw.) Get the garage support checked out by someone who understands how the garage door works and see if I can find a "compound miter saw" - the tool which kept us from getting as far as we'd hoped. And give my feet a rest, because they've declared war on my body and ache whether they're on the ground or not.
I think I'm going to repeat a lament from two years ago - "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." My aching body, soul, and mind are soooooo tired.
Part of it is that I keep crashing into brick walls. Not literal ones, but the ones set up by expectations and hopes that never quite pan out, at least not yet.
Since I last posted, there have been at least three dates set for the finish-up work to be accomplished at my house. On two of those, the friend who's doing the work couldn't make it. Then yesterday, when he did come, our time was spent on all manner of things that needed to be done, but we still didn't accomplish the main task. There is progress, but it feels so infinitisimal in comparison to my desire to sleep in my own bed again that I really just want to cry. But can't. So even that feels stuck.
I look at the things that need to be finished and feel overwhelmed. Then I just tend to wander from one partial task to another.
This weekend I began to work on removing the brighter-than-Pepto-bismol pink paint from my bathroom. What started out as a semi-reasonable, but relatively simple, task quickly turned into the paint removal from hell. Did you know that there was once used something my friend called "iron paint"? Well, that's what they used in my bathroom. I used every kind of sandpaper imaginable and didn't even make a dent in the texture of the paint. My son had used a whole container of paint stripper on the stuff and had managed to get bits and pieces of it off, but not what you'd usually expect.
One frantic phone call to friend later ended up with me headed to the handy-dandy hardware store for paint deglosser. That stuff is just plain nasty! And even that didn't make a dent in it until I used steel wool on the paint to just barely score it so the deglosser could do its thing. I managed to complete the doorframe and the bathroom cabinet. Now all I have to do is degloss the cabinets under the sink, prime and then anoint that pup with two coats of paint. That's what it took to finally banish the offending color.
Perhaps my exhaustion has something to do with yesterday. I finally got the kitchen completely cleaned up. There is no more roofing soot and grime and bits and pieces of wood lurking on my appliances and counters. You wouldn't know it by looking at it, though. Within a few hours of completion, there's all kinds of crap and clutter and stuff permeating the room.
Then again, it could be the garage door that decided to come unhinged from the ceiling as the garage door opener was opening the door, and proceeded to smash one of the windows in the door ... after all the stores were closed for the night, of course. I am glad my friend was there, otherwise, I would have been completely befuddled by what to do with a garage door stuck in 3/4 open position. Sleep in the garage? I don't think so.
My friend was able to complete a temporary? fix on the garage door through a midnight run to Wally World for bolts and a garbage bag and tape concoction over the gaping hole.
My mission between now and Thursday? (A day later than I was hoping to actually sleep in my bed, btw.) Get the garage support checked out by someone who understands how the garage door works and see if I can find a "compound miter saw" - the tool which kept us from getting as far as we'd hoped. And give my feet a rest, because they've declared war on my body and ache whether they're on the ground or not.
I think I'm going to repeat a lament from two years ago - "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." My aching body, soul, and mind are soooooo tired.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Little by Little
Don't think I'm gonna make it. ... Back home by the 2nd anniversary of Her Horribleness' arrival in the Golden Triangle, that is.
Some progress has been made, though. My handyfriend came to town and I think we've pretty much bought everything else we need to finish the repairs inside. Well, almost. One nice piece of 1/4 round is needed to finish off the baseboard in the kitchen, and I'm sure there will be one or two more things before we're through.
All of the baseboard, chair rail, and crown molding has been painted, as well as the framing for the doorway that had to be replaced, and progress has been made in installing the baseboard in the den. I won't tell you about the piece that I managed to break as we took it back outside to trim down a bit. Turns out that some of the door framing left a nasty swath which needs to be repainted with the paint from hell. Bleah! (Especially, since there's now CARPET on the floors and I have to be really careful to not drip paint, paint tarp notwithstanding.)
Dorky moment of the day - I started tackling cleaning around the kitchen. The ventahood looked rather bedraggled, so I started in on it. Managed to pull out the light cover without much trouble. Then came the grease screen. Started to get it loosened and something tumbled onto the stove. EEK! *sheepish grin* It was just a leaf. EEK! *sheepish grin* Next came a bit of wood. EEP! *sheepish grin* Another leaf. Notice a trend here? You'd think after the first one I'd quit thinking some kind of dead/live critter wasn't falling through the hole. I finally realized it was the detrius from my previously hurricane-mangled roof, which made the balance of the cleanup a bit less exciting. *chuckle*
My handyfriend won't be able to come back until next week. *sigh* Perhaps we'll get the rest of the inside finished next time. In the meantime, I'm exhausted and headed to bed.
OOPS! Forgot to mention one moment of hilarity during our work. My working refrigerator is in the storage room in the garage, while my regular fridge is in 3 pieces waiting to be reinserted into its appropriate location. We'd stored water in the working fridge so we'd have something cool to drink. My handyfriend hollers "Water!" I'm thinking, "Well, he's closer to the fridge. Why doesn't he just walk in and get one?" Again, he hollers "Water!" So I yell back, "It's in the fridge!" He says, "No! Water! All over the floor! WATER!" Sure enough, there's this mysterious water in the storage room. Turns out the drainage pipe from my washing machine was dislodged from its comstituent parts by the installation guy and now the water drains all over my garage floor instead of into the sewage system. Not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. But the miscommunication sure was funny!
Some progress has been made, though. My handyfriend came to town and I think we've pretty much bought everything else we need to finish the repairs inside. Well, almost. One nice piece of 1/4 round is needed to finish off the baseboard in the kitchen, and I'm sure there will be one or two more things before we're through.
All of the baseboard, chair rail, and crown molding has been painted, as well as the framing for the doorway that had to be replaced, and progress has been made in installing the baseboard in the den. I won't tell you about the piece that I managed to break as we took it back outside to trim down a bit. Turns out that some of the door framing left a nasty swath which needs to be repainted with the paint from hell. Bleah! (Especially, since there's now CARPET on the floors and I have to be really careful to not drip paint, paint tarp notwithstanding.)
Dorky moment of the day - I started tackling cleaning around the kitchen. The ventahood looked rather bedraggled, so I started in on it. Managed to pull out the light cover without much trouble. Then came the grease screen. Started to get it loosened and something tumbled onto the stove. EEK! *sheepish grin* It was just a leaf. EEK! *sheepish grin* Next came a bit of wood. EEP! *sheepish grin* Another leaf. Notice a trend here? You'd think after the first one I'd quit thinking some kind of dead/live critter wasn't falling through the hole. I finally realized it was the detrius from my previously hurricane-mangled roof, which made the balance of the cleanup a bit less exciting. *chuckle*
My handyfriend won't be able to come back until next week. *sigh* Perhaps we'll get the rest of the inside finished next time. In the meantime, I'm exhausted and headed to bed.
OOPS! Forgot to mention one moment of hilarity during our work. My working refrigerator is in the storage room in the garage, while my regular fridge is in 3 pieces waiting to be reinserted into its appropriate location. We'd stored water in the working fridge so we'd have something cool to drink. My handyfriend hollers "Water!" I'm thinking, "Well, he's closer to the fridge. Why doesn't he just walk in and get one?" Again, he hollers "Water!" So I yell back, "It's in the fridge!" He says, "No! Water! All over the floor! WATER!" Sure enough, there's this mysterious water in the storage room. Turns out the drainage pipe from my washing machine was dislodged from its comstituent parts by the installation guy and now the water drains all over my garage floor instead of into the sewage system. Not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. But the miscommunication sure was funny!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Raising 'Cane
(Thanks, Gard!)
I had truly hoped to sleep in my own bed before (1) the NEXT hurricane blew through town and (2) the anniversary of Her Horribleness. While #1 got the best of me, there's still hope for #2. But I'm waiting to hear from my handyfriend as to whether he'll be able to make it to town this weekend or not.
By comparison, for me, Humberto was just a baby hurricane. Of course, those who experienced significant damage won't see things the same way. I truly feel for those who got clobbered this time around.
When I went to bed on Wednesday, Humberto was still just a tropical storm. The lights had flickered once or twice and the dog wasn't happy about that. But they came back on, so no one in my house was particularly concerned. Snoozin' and cruisin' was the order of the night.
That is, until the dog decided to crawl into bed with me about 3am-ish.
We still had lights, so that wasn't it. There wasn't any thunder at that point, so that wasn't it either. The rain was pattering on the roof and windows, but that usually doesn't bother her, so that wasn't it. There must have been something about the wind blowing that made the Penster decide to snuggle. She's not much of a snuggle-dog.
Finally after spending about an hour trying to calm her down, I gave up, went to the den and turned on the tv. To my vast surprise, scrolling across the bottom of the screen was "Inland hurricane warning in effect"! Hurricane! Where'd this hurricane come from? How on earth was a storm over dry land becoming a hurricane? (Ok - it was really early in the morning, so give me a break!) I'd certainly decided I'd lost my mind and was misreading what was on the screen. Then the weatherperson came onscreen and announced that Humberto had become a minimal category 1 hurricane before coming ashore somewhere around ..... at that point I quit listening.
A hurricane? Nobody'd ever said anything about a 'cane. Uhoh! I just remembered that there was a small stepladder and an empty can of paint on the back patio which should have been secured earlier. Don't worry. I didn't jump into clothes and try to go and fix it. I just fretted about it for a while.
Then the power went out, for good. So the Penster and I went back to bed, her to cower and me to console. There wasn't much else we could do at the moment.
Next thing I knew, a phone was ringing and it was 8:30am. All quiet, except for the ringing. Alllllllll quiet. No a/c. No refrigerator hum. No lights anywhere. And still no lights today.
Ah, well! The whole thing could have been significantly worse. I'm grateful that things have calmed down and there's sun on the horizon for the next couple of days. Keep your fingers crossed! I'm hoping to meet that second deadline, and it looks like it just may be possible!
I had truly hoped to sleep in my own bed before (1) the NEXT hurricane blew through town and (2) the anniversary of Her Horribleness. While #1 got the best of me, there's still hope for #2. But I'm waiting to hear from my handyfriend as to whether he'll be able to make it to town this weekend or not.
By comparison, for me, Humberto was just a baby hurricane. Of course, those who experienced significant damage won't see things the same way. I truly feel for those who got clobbered this time around.
When I went to bed on Wednesday, Humberto was still just a tropical storm. The lights had flickered once or twice and the dog wasn't happy about that. But they came back on, so no one in my house was particularly concerned. Snoozin' and cruisin' was the order of the night.
That is, until the dog decided to crawl into bed with me about 3am-ish.
We still had lights, so that wasn't it. There wasn't any thunder at that point, so that wasn't it either. The rain was pattering on the roof and windows, but that usually doesn't bother her, so that wasn't it. There must have been something about the wind blowing that made the Penster decide to snuggle. She's not much of a snuggle-dog.
Finally after spending about an hour trying to calm her down, I gave up, went to the den and turned on the tv. To my vast surprise, scrolling across the bottom of the screen was "Inland hurricane warning in effect"! Hurricane! Where'd this hurricane come from? How on earth was a storm over dry land becoming a hurricane? (Ok - it was really early in the morning, so give me a break!) I'd certainly decided I'd lost my mind and was misreading what was on the screen. Then the weatherperson came onscreen and announced that Humberto had become a minimal category 1 hurricane before coming ashore somewhere around ..... at that point I quit listening.
A hurricane? Nobody'd ever said anything about a 'cane. Uhoh! I just remembered that there was a small stepladder and an empty can of paint on the back patio which should have been secured earlier. Don't worry. I didn't jump into clothes and try to go and fix it. I just fretted about it for a while.
Then the power went out, for good. So the Penster and I went back to bed, her to cower and me to console. There wasn't much else we could do at the moment.
Next thing I knew, a phone was ringing and it was 8:30am. All quiet, except for the ringing. Alllllllll quiet. No a/c. No refrigerator hum. No lights anywhere. And still no lights today.
Ah, well! The whole thing could have been significantly worse. I'm grateful that things have calmed down and there's sun on the horizon for the next couple of days. Keep your fingers crossed! I'm hoping to meet that second deadline, and it looks like it just may be possible!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
On That Day
Much has happened since the fateful September 11th six years ago. There're so many things which seem to have taken us in a u-turn from the essential tenets of who we are meant to be as Americans. Yet that's not where I'm headed tonight.
Last night I participated in a truly incredible experience which I'm not completely certain I can put into words. For those of you who don't live in this part of the world, there's still a fair amount of prejudice; although, it has improved since the last time I lived here.
But last night ...
Religious leaders from every faith group in the area and all racial/ethnic backgrounds gathered together for a September 11 Remembrance and Peace Procession. Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Christian of various stripes, African-American, Hispanic-American, Asian-American, male, female, formal clerical attire, casual, from all three of the major cities in the Golden Triangle area, all shared a prayer and walked together to the main fire station, the police station, and the port.
At each stop, the first responders gave a short tribute to those who have served and whose lives were lost or forever changed in the line of duty. At the port, the military headquarters (transportation group) gave a prayer for those who serve in the military and for a time when all may live in peace. The religious leaders placed a wreath there and laid palm fronds there as a symbol of the peace we prayed for.
The only prayer given by the religious leaders was this one:
"Loving God and Father, answer our prayers for a world of peace. Give us strength as we face the conflicts o our troubled world. Cleanse our minds of retaliation and help us to be instruments of your peace. Fill us with the compassion we need to overlook the hatefulness of others and enable us to be a country embraced by the grace of your teachings. We ask to share in teh task of restoring harmony and justice.
God of compassion and mercy, we pray for all the people whose lives have been changed by violence in this world. Remember, too, those who perished in the attack on America and the lives that have been lost in protecting democracy and freedom around the world. Console their families and friends with the knowledge that their loved ones will find comfort and peace in your loving arms. We put our trust in your heavenly graces. Hear our plea and grant that peace reign through the world. Amen."
Yes, I have one or two quibbles with the prayer, but, considering the context, it was a job well done. I hope the local news outlets showed that our area has an incredible diversity within it and that we can all hope and pray for peace in our world and a time when differences are embraced and not feared.
Yesterday was a very good day. What better message could we send to those who would bring pain and division to this world than the image of all of us together walking and praying for peace?
Last night I participated in a truly incredible experience which I'm not completely certain I can put into words. For those of you who don't live in this part of the world, there's still a fair amount of prejudice; although, it has improved since the last time I lived here.
But last night ...
Religious leaders from every faith group in the area and all racial/ethnic backgrounds gathered together for a September 11 Remembrance and Peace Procession. Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Christian of various stripes, African-American, Hispanic-American, Asian-American, male, female, formal clerical attire, casual, from all three of the major cities in the Golden Triangle area, all shared a prayer and walked together to the main fire station, the police station, and the port.
At each stop, the first responders gave a short tribute to those who have served and whose lives were lost or forever changed in the line of duty. At the port, the military headquarters (transportation group) gave a prayer for those who serve in the military and for a time when all may live in peace. The religious leaders placed a wreath there and laid palm fronds there as a symbol of the peace we prayed for.
The only prayer given by the religious leaders was this one:
"Loving God and Father, answer our prayers for a world of peace. Give us strength as we face the conflicts o our troubled world. Cleanse our minds of retaliation and help us to be instruments of your peace. Fill us with the compassion we need to overlook the hatefulness of others and enable us to be a country embraced by the grace of your teachings. We ask to share in teh task of restoring harmony and justice.
God of compassion and mercy, we pray for all the people whose lives have been changed by violence in this world. Remember, too, those who perished in the attack on America and the lives that have been lost in protecting democracy and freedom around the world. Console their families and friends with the knowledge that their loved ones will find comfort and peace in your loving arms. We put our trust in your heavenly graces. Hear our plea and grant that peace reign through the world. Amen."
Yes, I have one or two quibbles with the prayer, but, considering the context, it was a job well done. I hope the local news outlets showed that our area has an incredible diversity within it and that we can all hope and pray for peace in our world and a time when differences are embraced and not feared.
Yesterday was a very good day. What better message could we send to those who would bring pain and division to this world than the image of all of us together walking and praying for peace?
Friday, September 07, 2007
A Surgery Long Overdue
That's the headline on an article in the Houston Chronicle today.
Two years ago, a young EMT and her cousin were riding down an Angelina County road when some bozoid pulls alongside them, shoots and kills the cousin, then shoots the EMT, mangling her arm. She's rushed to the hospital where they're able to save her arm. Truly wonderful! She has insurance at that point.
Fast forward to today. No job. No insurance. She gets a $900/month disability check, which is too much per month to receive medical care in Angelina County. In many Texas counties, if you earn $179/month as a single person, you make too much to qualify for indigent medical care. $179!!! That doesn't even cover housing and you're too wealthy to qualify for medical care?!?! OUTRAGEOUS!
For this young woman, her situation became visible due to an article on healthcare in the newspaper. It touched the heart of people with resources in the medical community, and yesterday she received the long delayed surgery to complete the repairs that were started after she was shot.
The original surgery was competently done. There's no malfeasance involved in her situation, at least no medical malfeasance from the outset. However, the one surgery was not sufficient to bring about the healing which might lead to her being able to train for a new career and re-enter the workforce.
So, yesterday that healing was begun. Gratis. Surgeons and hospital and rehab therapists are donating their resources to ensure this is done. HOORAY! I'm truly happy for this young woman. It's a wonderful and incredible blessing that she's receiving.
Now for a mini-rant:
What about those whose stories didn't make it into the newspaper? What about the thousands in Texas who are considered 'wealthy' when their income probably doesn't even provide even minimal necessities?
Not to malign the hospitals who provide indigent care, but why wasn't this surgery done earlier? This young woman traveled 175 miles round-trip, twice weekly, for physical therapy at a teaching hospital which provides care for those who don't qualify for the same care close to home. I applaud their assistance and the services they provide. However, if surgery was necessary for improvement, why didn't they pick up on this and offer it? (Ok - I know why, but I don't have to like it.)
Why aren't people so outraged at the state of health care that they lobby and protest and write letters to elected officials until something is done about it?
*snort* My mom is probably a prime example of why. She has really good health insurance. (So do I, for that matter.) Here's her plaint: If we go to universal health care, there'll be rationing. *one daughter tearing out hair* There already IS rationing! Those who can't afford health care are already "rationed" out of the system!
So, one injustice has been rectified. When will we tackle the others?
PS - There's a part of me which says that the bozoid who committed the crime should be personally responsible for any medical care costs of the person he damaged. Unless he was independently wealthy, I realize this could never happen. It's difficult to pay multi-thousand dollar medical bills when you're serving two life sentences in prison. So, in the balance of things, I'm just glad he's off the streets so he can't hurt anyone else.
Two years ago, a young EMT and her cousin were riding down an Angelina County road when some bozoid pulls alongside them, shoots and kills the cousin, then shoots the EMT, mangling her arm. She's rushed to the hospital where they're able to save her arm. Truly wonderful! She has insurance at that point.
Fast forward to today. No job. No insurance. She gets a $900/month disability check, which is too much per month to receive medical care in Angelina County. In many Texas counties, if you earn $179/month as a single person, you make too much to qualify for indigent medical care. $179!!! That doesn't even cover housing and you're too wealthy to qualify for medical care?!?! OUTRAGEOUS!
For this young woman, her situation became visible due to an article on healthcare in the newspaper. It touched the heart of people with resources in the medical community, and yesterday she received the long delayed surgery to complete the repairs that were started after she was shot.
The original surgery was competently done. There's no malfeasance involved in her situation, at least no medical malfeasance from the outset. However, the one surgery was not sufficient to bring about the healing which might lead to her being able to train for a new career and re-enter the workforce.
So, yesterday that healing was begun. Gratis. Surgeons and hospital and rehab therapists are donating their resources to ensure this is done. HOORAY! I'm truly happy for this young woman. It's a wonderful and incredible blessing that she's receiving.
Now for a mini-rant:
What about those whose stories didn't make it into the newspaper? What about the thousands in Texas who are considered 'wealthy' when their income probably doesn't even provide even minimal necessities?
Not to malign the hospitals who provide indigent care, but why wasn't this surgery done earlier? This young woman traveled 175 miles round-trip, twice weekly, for physical therapy at a teaching hospital which provides care for those who don't qualify for the same care close to home. I applaud their assistance and the services they provide. However, if surgery was necessary for improvement, why didn't they pick up on this and offer it? (Ok - I know why, but I don't have to like it.)
Why aren't people so outraged at the state of health care that they lobby and protest and write letters to elected officials until something is done about it?
*snort* My mom is probably a prime example of why. She has really good health insurance. (So do I, for that matter.) Here's her plaint: If we go to universal health care, there'll be rationing. *one daughter tearing out hair* There already IS rationing! Those who can't afford health care are already "rationed" out of the system!
So, one injustice has been rectified. When will we tackle the others?
PS - There's a part of me which says that the bozoid who committed the crime should be personally responsible for any medical care costs of the person he damaged. Unless he was independently wealthy, I realize this could never happen. It's difficult to pay multi-thousand dollar medical bills when you're serving two life sentences in prison. So, in the balance of things, I'm just glad he's off the streets so he can't hurt anyone else.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Flashback
Two years ago, I really needed a vacation. I'd scheduled two weeks off around Labor Day and everything was in place so I could go. Then this nasty named Katrina popped up on the horizon. By the time I was scheduled to leave, it was pretty certain the vixen wasn't headed to Beaumont and people were pouring in from the east to escape here. My competent crew was helping out with the local agencies and things were in order, so the dog, the cat, and I also headed west for a visit with my mom.
In the days to come, we (Mom and I, the dog and cat weren't particularly into tv) watched transfixed as Katrina came ashore, completed her devastation, and faded into nothingness. Original plans to visit with friends further west were put aside because traffic and gasoline costs were horrendous. The next days were spent almost paralyzed as we watched helplessly while people in New Orleans died, awaited rescue in miserable conditions, were abandoned on 24-hour national tv. One helluva way to spend a vacation.
Then the dog and I returned home. Still wrapped in a sense of the surreal, I went about my business. The cat had stayed at mom's because I had a week-long meeting to attend in a couple of weeks, so there was no sense in disrupting her catly routine twice. As I left Houston for the meeting at the appointed time, Mom had a hissy fit about an almost tropical storm that was off the coast of Florida. Our part of the world had a ridiculous high parked over it, so I wasn't worried and I left.
In a total otherworldly experience, the entire meeting from California became a watching of news reports and wondering what this second nasty named Rita would do. Again I watched helplessly as my friends, family, church members fled in long, unmoving lines while this at one point category 5 virago bore down on my home. In some respects, I've been in a bit of a fog ever since.
Then came Hurricane Dean.
I've been in an even deeper fog since the moment Southeast Texas was in even the outer edge of the cone of probability. My head said he wouldn't come our way. *shrug* My head had said that about Rita. Again I watched helplessly as Dean clobbered Jamaica and Mexico, poor areas devastated and nothing I could do.
I just realized last night that I was completely and truly trapped in a flashback as Felix came so quickly after Dean and roared up to category 5. I think I've been paralyzed for almost two weeks now, functioning more or less at the zombie level, again trapped in the helpless feelings of two years ago.
Then oddball stuff bubbled to the surface. When I do finally get into my home, it won't be the same home I left two years ago. It'll be a much better home. More completely mine, in the sense that my choices will have been imposed on it. Yet so much less mine, because it isn't the house I left two years ago and, somehow, I just want to return to THAT house, not this one. Don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm feeling.
Somehow I think it's time for me to holler for help. I'm fortunate. The resources are there. Now I just have to pick up the phone and do it.
In the days to come, we (Mom and I, the dog and cat weren't particularly into tv) watched transfixed as Katrina came ashore, completed her devastation, and faded into nothingness. Original plans to visit with friends further west were put aside because traffic and gasoline costs were horrendous. The next days were spent almost paralyzed as we watched helplessly while people in New Orleans died, awaited rescue in miserable conditions, were abandoned on 24-hour national tv. One helluva way to spend a vacation.
Then the dog and I returned home. Still wrapped in a sense of the surreal, I went about my business. The cat had stayed at mom's because I had a week-long meeting to attend in a couple of weeks, so there was no sense in disrupting her catly routine twice. As I left Houston for the meeting at the appointed time, Mom had a hissy fit about an almost tropical storm that was off the coast of Florida. Our part of the world had a ridiculous high parked over it, so I wasn't worried and I left.
In a total otherworldly experience, the entire meeting from California became a watching of news reports and wondering what this second nasty named Rita would do. Again I watched helplessly as my friends, family, church members fled in long, unmoving lines while this at one point category 5 virago bore down on my home. In some respects, I've been in a bit of a fog ever since.
Then came Hurricane Dean.
I've been in an even deeper fog since the moment Southeast Texas was in even the outer edge of the cone of probability. My head said he wouldn't come our way. *shrug* My head had said that about Rita. Again I watched helplessly as Dean clobbered Jamaica and Mexico, poor areas devastated and nothing I could do.
I just realized last night that I was completely and truly trapped in a flashback as Felix came so quickly after Dean and roared up to category 5. I think I've been paralyzed for almost two weeks now, functioning more or less at the zombie level, again trapped in the helpless feelings of two years ago.
Then oddball stuff bubbled to the surface. When I do finally get into my home, it won't be the same home I left two years ago. It'll be a much better home. More completely mine, in the sense that my choices will have been imposed on it. Yet so much less mine, because it isn't the house I left two years ago and, somehow, I just want to return to THAT house, not this one. Don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm feeling.
Somehow I think it's time for me to holler for help. I'm fortunate. The resources are there. Now I just have to pick up the phone and do it.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I Really Oughta...
...turn off The Weather Channel.
Part of my semi-obsessive weather watching is legitimate. I'd like to be able to figure out when it will be safe to finish painting the exterior of my house. Doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon. Especially since there's thunder rumbling in the background and some of those thunderstorms might actually make it here from the coast. Even if it does manage to get dry enough to paint, it'll probably be way too hot for most of the day. This task may have to wait until October.
It's also legitimate to keep up with the latest tropical updates (nothing happening at this second, but you've gotta keep your eye on ... )and see if the skies are about to break loose with a gullywasher at any moment, usually just before I walk out of the house. Weather radar is your friend. (Anyone else remember when the Weather Channel was just the local radar circling round and round with someone intermittently announcing temperatures and weather alerts?)
However, today is the 2nd anniversary of Katrina's landfall. Each time one of the segments on how bad things were and what recovery is happening and what the area has to look forward to in the future, I find myself feeling really ambivalent.
There's the angry part of me that says "All right, already! We've Katrina ... Katrina ... Katrina'd until you'd think that was the only catastrophe that happened in 2005." And I wonder if they'll do the 2-year anniversary of Rita and Wilma with the same overkill they're devoting to Katrina. Probably not.
Then I find myself hoping that they don't. The look back reminds me too much of the whole surreal experience of watching the devastation and then seeing a similar destruction head straight for our coast 3 weeks later. It's peak hurricane season, so my hypervigilance becomes even more hyper (if that's possible).
Then I end up feeling guilty because the eastern Gulf Coast took a super-major hit and you see the pictures of the devastation that is still waiting to be dealt with. Finally other parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are getting a bit of their due, yet New Orleans is still the "star".
It is encouraging to see how far things have come, as well as discouraging to see just how far they've yet to go. The mind recognizes that 10 years out may see the area looking almost as though nothing had ever happened. The heart goes out to those who are caught in limbo in the meantime. To some degree, I understand their limbo; although, certainly my limbo is nowhere as deep or long as theirs may be. And the same recovery parameters may be just as true for us as it was for those clobbered by Katrina.
Yeah. I think I oughta just turn off the tv for a while. ACK! More thunder. Maybe not.
Part of my semi-obsessive weather watching is legitimate. I'd like to be able to figure out when it will be safe to finish painting the exterior of my house. Doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon. Especially since there's thunder rumbling in the background and some of those thunderstorms might actually make it here from the coast. Even if it does manage to get dry enough to paint, it'll probably be way too hot for most of the day. This task may have to wait until October.
It's also legitimate to keep up with the latest tropical updates (nothing happening at this second, but you've gotta keep your eye on ... )and see if the skies are about to break loose with a gullywasher at any moment, usually just before I walk out of the house. Weather radar is your friend. (Anyone else remember when the Weather Channel was just the local radar circling round and round with someone intermittently announcing temperatures and weather alerts?)
However, today is the 2nd anniversary of Katrina's landfall. Each time one of the segments on how bad things were and what recovery is happening and what the area has to look forward to in the future, I find myself feeling really ambivalent.
There's the angry part of me that says "All right, already! We've Katrina ... Katrina ... Katrina'd until you'd think that was the only catastrophe that happened in 2005." And I wonder if they'll do the 2-year anniversary of Rita and Wilma with the same overkill they're devoting to Katrina. Probably not.
Then I find myself hoping that they don't. The look back reminds me too much of the whole surreal experience of watching the devastation and then seeing a similar destruction head straight for our coast 3 weeks later. It's peak hurricane season, so my hypervigilance becomes even more hyper (if that's possible).
Then I end up feeling guilty because the eastern Gulf Coast took a super-major hit and you see the pictures of the devastation that is still waiting to be dealt with. Finally other parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are getting a bit of their due, yet New Orleans is still the "star".
It is encouraging to see how far things have come, as well as discouraging to see just how far they've yet to go. The mind recognizes that 10 years out may see the area looking almost as though nothing had ever happened. The heart goes out to those who are caught in limbo in the meantime. To some degree, I understand their limbo; although, certainly my limbo is nowhere as deep or long as theirs may be. And the same recovery parameters may be just as true for us as it was for those clobbered by Katrina.
Yeah. I think I oughta just turn off the tv for a while. ACK! More thunder. Maybe not.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Peace
It's absolutely curious as to what brings peace to my soul right now. Checking out the National Hurricane Center and discovering that:
"There are no tropical cyclones at this time"
is one of them.
Having my church members recognize the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Dean and desiring to help as they are able, at this time, through our Presbyterian Disaster Assistance program.
Watching a squirrel climb down the middle framing of the sliding glass patio door (actually, that was more of a chuckle, but there was a sense of peace - except for the dog who wasn't sure if someone/thing was breaking in or just what was happening)
... *humming* "these are a few of my favorite things"!
Would that the peace of this particular moment floods the entire earth and all war and conflict cease. *sigh* (Nope - I'm not headed back to reality and you can't make me!)
"There are no tropical cyclones at this time"
is one of them.
Having my church members recognize the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Dean and desiring to help as they are able, at this time, through our Presbyterian Disaster Assistance program.
Watching a squirrel climb down the middle framing of the sliding glass patio door (actually, that was more of a chuckle, but there was a sense of peace - except for the dog who wasn't sure if someone/thing was breaking in or just what was happening)
... *humming* "these are a few of my favorite things"!
Would that the peace of this particular moment floods the entire earth and all war and conflict cease. *sigh* (Nope - I'm not headed back to reality and you can't make me!)
Monday, August 20, 2007
Whew ... and a Prayer
*wipes brow* It appears we're going to dodge this particular bullet as Master Dean seems to have decided on a decidedly westward path.
He's still a nasty character and has caused significant damage and taken lives. Looks like he may become an even nastier character before whomping into the Yucatan Penninsula.
So - prayers arising for those in his path. We who have dodged this disaster are with you in spirit. Please do whatever you can to be safe.
He's still a nasty character and has caused significant damage and taken lives. Looks like he may become an even nastier character before whomping into the Yucatan Penninsula.
So - prayers arising for those in his path. We who have dodged this disaster are with you in spirit. Please do whatever you can to be safe.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Tropical Blues
The first Gulf-aimed hurricane of the season has arisen ... and it's a biggie!
Living along the Gulf Coast, one tends to keep the potential for hurricanes in one's peripheral vision. I find myself checking the 'Tropical Update' on The Weather Channel out of the corner of my eye each morning from June 1st onward. However, once we get to August, I shift from peripheral vision to at least one eye firmly focused on the tropical reports more than once daily. So, I'd had my eye on Dean since he was just a gleam of a possible wave off the coast of Africa.
Since Her Horribleness blew through town about two years ago, I've broadened my hurricane watching resources. In 2005, I was virtually certain that the high pressure hovering over the southeast Texas coast would send Rita skittering past us and further west, if it even turned into a hurricane at all. Wrong-o!
It would have been nice if The Weather Channel and other tv outlets had even mentioned the National Hurricane Center's concern that the high pressure system would be shoved out of the way and a low pressure system just primed to suck Rita home would take its place. I realized none of this until watching CNN News as Rita bore down on the Texas border while stuck in California.
Now I wander through the National Hurricane Center Forecast Discussions regularly. I didn't even know it existed two years ago.
So - back to the original premise of this post:
A hurricane's headed to the Gulf ... and it's a biggie!
The range of emotions has been, well, weird. There's this part of me that's hypersensitive - an almost obsessive desire to know what's going on with Dean, precisely and minute by minute. I generally get to the Forecast Discussions within 15-20 minutes of them being posted. The lag is because I want to give them a chance to have the newest stuff up before I hit the site.
There's this part of me that is a bit ecstatic about having a hurricane to track. (I know - I said this was weird.) Somehow I want to vindicate my improved tracking skills. Please don't laugh. I know hurricanes are capricious and beastly difficult for even the experts. But I've had a pretty good track record over the years and Rita got past me. That just bugs the heck out of me!
There's another part of me that's wavering in distress. I truly wanted to be able to sleep at least one night in my restored home before another monstrosity even glimpsed the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. One moment I'm gleeful over the things that have been accomplished: all that's left for the interior to be complete is trim and touchup painting, cleaning (a bazillion loads of laundry and dishes as well as getting rid of two years worth of dust - did you really imagine that I'd cleaned house in the month before Rita hit?), and reinstalling my furniture. Then I'm plunged into despair when things foul up getting those last things done.
Then there's the flash of anger at the local paper's editoral to "just get over it!" The intelletual part of me recognizes that their reaction is simply a phase of compassion fatigue, something to be expected at this point in recovery. Yeah! I'd love for things to be back to something resembling normal. *sarcastic* Me to editorial writer, "Yep! You've got it back together, so come take over my life for a bit and I'll live yours! You want things put back together quicker? What have YOU done to help someone who's struggling? or those without the funds to make the repairs? or still on the long waiting lists to get volunteer workers to put things back together? HUH?!"
*sigh* And then there're the times when I just feel completely sapped of any energy. *chuckle* Guess you could call it a 'tropical depression'. It passes, but I'd rather do without them.
In the grand scheme of things, it's a good thing I don't chew my nails or I'd have none left (or would be working on my toenails by now).
Well, the thunder from a local storm has the dog giving me a semi-anxious look, so I guess I'll bring this to an end and go reassure her.
Any songwriters out there interested in composing a tropical blues? I'd love to hear it!
Living along the Gulf Coast, one tends to keep the potential for hurricanes in one's peripheral vision. I find myself checking the 'Tropical Update' on The Weather Channel out of the corner of my eye each morning from June 1st onward. However, once we get to August, I shift from peripheral vision to at least one eye firmly focused on the tropical reports more than once daily. So, I'd had my eye on Dean since he was just a gleam of a possible wave off the coast of Africa.
Since Her Horribleness blew through town about two years ago, I've broadened my hurricane watching resources. In 2005, I was virtually certain that the high pressure hovering over the southeast Texas coast would send Rita skittering past us and further west, if it even turned into a hurricane at all. Wrong-o!
It would have been nice if The Weather Channel and other tv outlets had even mentioned the National Hurricane Center's concern that the high pressure system would be shoved out of the way and a low pressure system just primed to suck Rita home would take its place. I realized none of this until watching CNN News as Rita bore down on the Texas border while stuck in California.
Now I wander through the National Hurricane Center Forecast Discussions regularly. I didn't even know it existed two years ago.
So - back to the original premise of this post:
A hurricane's headed to the Gulf ... and it's a biggie!
The range of emotions has been, well, weird. There's this part of me that's hypersensitive - an almost obsessive desire to know what's going on with Dean, precisely and minute by minute. I generally get to the Forecast Discussions within 15-20 minutes of them being posted. The lag is because I want to give them a chance to have the newest stuff up before I hit the site.
There's this part of me that is a bit ecstatic about having a hurricane to track. (I know - I said this was weird.) Somehow I want to vindicate my improved tracking skills. Please don't laugh. I know hurricanes are capricious and beastly difficult for even the experts. But I've had a pretty good track record over the years and Rita got past me. That just bugs the heck out of me!
There's another part of me that's wavering in distress. I truly wanted to be able to sleep at least one night in my restored home before another monstrosity even glimpsed the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. One moment I'm gleeful over the things that have been accomplished: all that's left for the interior to be complete is trim and touchup painting, cleaning (a bazillion loads of laundry and dishes as well as getting rid of two years worth of dust - did you really imagine that I'd cleaned house in the month before Rita hit?), and reinstalling my furniture. Then I'm plunged into despair when things foul up getting those last things done.
Then there's the flash of anger at the local paper's editoral to "just get over it!" The intelletual part of me recognizes that their reaction is simply a phase of compassion fatigue, something to be expected at this point in recovery. Yeah! I'd love for things to be back to something resembling normal. *sarcastic* Me to editorial writer, "Yep! You've got it back together, so come take over my life for a bit and I'll live yours! You want things put back together quicker? What have YOU done to help someone who's struggling? or those without the funds to make the repairs? or still on the long waiting lists to get volunteer workers to put things back together? HUH?!"
*sigh* And then there're the times when I just feel completely sapped of any energy. *chuckle* Guess you could call it a 'tropical depression'. It passes, but I'd rather do without them.
In the grand scheme of things, it's a good thing I don't chew my nails or I'd have none left (or would be working on my toenails by now).
Well, the thunder from a local storm has the dog giving me a semi-anxious look, so I guess I'll bring this to an end and go reassure her.
Any songwriters out there interested in composing a tropical blues? I'd love to hear it!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Come. On.
As I was signing offline last night, just as everything was shutting down, the AOL screen that flows through with current news announced in bold headlines:
Tropical Storm Erin Heads Ashore
As Major Storm
ARRRRRRRGH! (ummmm...that was me)
You do not describe a measly barely-a-tropical-storm as a MAJOR storm during hurricane season. MAJOR is at least a Category 3, definitely Cat 4 or 5. MAJOR means nasty winds and storm surge and the potential for some exceeding nastiness.
Sure, you watch the darned things while they're in the Gulf, 'cuz hurricanes can be sneaky beasts. Get one of them lolling over the water, stuck in one place gathering water and the like, and you may have a steamroller headed at you. But when it heads onshore? Well, if it gets stuck (like Tropical Storm Alicia did several years ago), it may lead to significant flooding. But MAJOR!?!
I like flooding just as much as the next person - not at all! However, I also am not thrilled with hype when it comes to reporting on storms. Where do you go emotionally when a mere tropical storm rates the level of a Cat 5 hysteria?
Come. On.
Tropical Storm Erin Heads Ashore
As Major Storm
ARRRRRRRGH! (ummmm...that was me)
You do not describe a measly barely-a-tropical-storm as a MAJOR storm during hurricane season. MAJOR is at least a Category 3, definitely Cat 4 or 5. MAJOR means nasty winds and storm surge and the potential for some exceeding nastiness.
Sure, you watch the darned things while they're in the Gulf, 'cuz hurricanes can be sneaky beasts. Get one of them lolling over the water, stuck in one place gathering water and the like, and you may have a steamroller headed at you. But when it heads onshore? Well, if it gets stuck (like Tropical Storm Alicia did several years ago), it may lead to significant flooding. But MAJOR!?!
I like flooding just as much as the next person - not at all! However, I also am not thrilled with hype when it comes to reporting on storms. Where do you go emotionally when a mere tropical storm rates the level of a Cat 5 hysteria?
Come. On.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Holy Sh-- Report
Reading today's local newspaper, I came across this Associated Press article, "Girl dragged behind van at boot camp". Ok - sometimes I read stuff like this, sometimes I don't. However, I glanced at the first sentence and saw this phrase "Christian boot camp"! Immediate reaction WTF!! So of course, I read the whole thing.
Apparently, a 15-year-old girl was having difficulty keeping up on a morning run. The director assigned one of the staff to run alongside of her to motivate her. When she fell, these so-called Christian bozos tied her to the back of a van and then dragged her! The name of this boot camp? Love Demonstrated Ministries.
Someone somewhere didn't get the memo ... or forgot to read the Book ... or came equipped with no brains ... or certainly wasn't willing to truly listen to and interpret what it means to demonstrate love! I'm hoping the police totally throw the book (the legal code, at least) at them and lock them up with a copy of The Book to read over and over and over, especially spending time to read what Jesus himself did to demonstrate love. It certainly didn't involve harming another human being.
Then second on the H.S. (ummmm.....that's not coming out right 'cuz it certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit) report: FEMA is only now deciding that people living in trailers after the 2005 hurricane season should vacate the premises ASAP! They've had the info in their hot little hands for about a year, but chose to sit on it. The article doesn't once mention that it's probably not a good idea to BUY the stupid trailers from FEMA, which they've been trying to sell to those living in them for about $300-$500.
Here's the kicker - There are about 45,000 trailers still in use in Louisiana alone, and they've only managed to scrounge up about 4,500 rental units for people to move into. Along the Gulf Coast, approximately 65,000 are still living in trailers. Cruise ships, anyone? Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it would get people out of a toxic formaldehyde situation fairly quickly while FEMA/HUD work to get some viable rental property in place.
I do want to say for the record that the local FEMA workers who are still in the area have been quite sympathetic to the situation and have been advocating for a better solution whenever difficulties have been pointed out. It's the muckety-mucks who don't seem to get it.
Apparently, a 15-year-old girl was having difficulty keeping up on a morning run. The director assigned one of the staff to run alongside of her to motivate her. When she fell, these so-called Christian bozos tied her to the back of a van and then dragged her! The name of this boot camp? Love Demonstrated Ministries.
Someone somewhere didn't get the memo ... or forgot to read the Book ... or came equipped with no brains ... or certainly wasn't willing to truly listen to and interpret what it means to demonstrate love! I'm hoping the police totally throw the book (the legal code, at least) at them and lock them up with a copy of The Book to read over and over and over, especially spending time to read what Jesus himself did to demonstrate love. It certainly didn't involve harming another human being.
Then second on the H.S. (ummmm.....that's not coming out right 'cuz it certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit) report: FEMA is only now deciding that people living in trailers after the 2005 hurricane season should vacate the premises ASAP! They've had the info in their hot little hands for about a year, but chose to sit on it. The article doesn't once mention that it's probably not a good idea to BUY the stupid trailers from FEMA, which they've been trying to sell to those living in them for about $300-$500.
Here's the kicker - There are about 45,000 trailers still in use in Louisiana alone, and they've only managed to scrounge up about 4,500 rental units for people to move into. Along the Gulf Coast, approximately 65,000 are still living in trailers. Cruise ships, anyone? Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it would get people out of a toxic formaldehyde situation fairly quickly while FEMA/HUD work to get some viable rental property in place.
I do want to say for the record that the local FEMA workers who are still in the area have been quite sympathetic to the situation and have been advocating for a better solution whenever difficulties have been pointed out. It's the muckety-mucks who don't seem to get it.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Got Your Back!
Traveling to the church today, the car in front of me sported this bumpersticker:
God has my back!
My reaction? Oh, really!!
Let's see if I've gotten this straight. To me, that bumpersticker says that God supports me in whatever I've decided to do. It runs somewhat along the line of the old bumperstickers that said "God is my co-pilot." The followup to that one is more to my liking, "If God is your co-pilot, you're in the wrong seat."
The one I saw today smacks of human-centeredness. It says that God supports my biases, my prejudices, my interpretation of scripture, my ordering of how life should be lived. It eliminates the need for discernment of God's will and the possibility that what God wills may be completely antithetical to what I happen to want or believe becomes completely irrelevant.
True, one may spend significant time and effort trying to discern what God wants us to be and do, and in the end, our decisions may be the wrong ones. It's often hard to be certain in this life, especially if what we decide is in that gray area where any response we make could be the correct one. And it can often be difficult to discern when the "tough love" of Jesus with the rich young ruler which, while it may appear and feel like cruel treatment of one in need, is the most loving and caring action one may take. How does one best emulate Jesus in loving one's neighbor as oneself? Unless we're willing to take the difficult step of loving our enemies, rather than treating them according to our personal biases, how can we be certain that God "has our back"? True faith journeys are rarely easy or so straightforward.
Of course, the individual who was driving the car may have had a different interpretation. The sticker may simply have been a statement that the driver trusts that God is present in the difficult times as well as the good, perhaps even a restatement at some level of part of the 23rd Psalm. In which case, I agree wholeheartedly! But I must confess that I fear my first interpretation is the more likely one. I only hope that I'm wrong.
God has my back!
My reaction? Oh, really!!
Let's see if I've gotten this straight. To me, that bumpersticker says that God supports me in whatever I've decided to do. It runs somewhat along the line of the old bumperstickers that said "God is my co-pilot." The followup to that one is more to my liking, "If God is your co-pilot, you're in the wrong seat."
The one I saw today smacks of human-centeredness. It says that God supports my biases, my prejudices, my interpretation of scripture, my ordering of how life should be lived. It eliminates the need for discernment of God's will and the possibility that what God wills may be completely antithetical to what I happen to want or believe becomes completely irrelevant.
True, one may spend significant time and effort trying to discern what God wants us to be and do, and in the end, our decisions may be the wrong ones. It's often hard to be certain in this life, especially if what we decide is in that gray area where any response we make could be the correct one. And it can often be difficult to discern when the "tough love" of Jesus with the rich young ruler which, while it may appear and feel like cruel treatment of one in need, is the most loving and caring action one may take. How does one best emulate Jesus in loving one's neighbor as oneself? Unless we're willing to take the difficult step of loving our enemies, rather than treating them according to our personal biases, how can we be certain that God "has our back"? True faith journeys are rarely easy or so straightforward.
Of course, the individual who was driving the car may have had a different interpretation. The sticker may simply have been a statement that the driver trusts that God is present in the difficult times as well as the good, perhaps even a restatement at some level of part of the 23rd Psalm. In which case, I agree wholeheartedly! But I must confess that I fear my first interpretation is the more likely one. I only hope that I'm wrong.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Coming up Roses!
Ahhhhhh! Good things happening. Progress. Positives. WOOHOO!
For once, something planned worked exactly like it was supposed to. The linoleum and carpet are completely installed ... and they look wonderful! The house looks liveable again.
Lotsa dust to be removed, though. Two years' worth! YIPE! But it's beginning to look like this long wandering in exile may be coming to an end.
I even felt comfortable enough with the progress to go out and buy a new washer and dryer. They're going to get quite a workout, as will the new dishwasher. What's coming next is the Spring Cleaning to end all spring cleanings. Well, not really, but you get the picture.
Next weekend comes the final touchup painting and painting and installing the trim, plus a couple of installations or so. Clean curtains, new curtains, new blinds and all sorts of fun stuff.
What bliss! To sleep in my own bed, just a few short weeks ahead. AHHHHHH! Heaven!
For once, something planned worked exactly like it was supposed to. The linoleum and carpet are completely installed ... and they look wonderful! The house looks liveable again.
Lotsa dust to be removed, though. Two years' worth! YIPE! But it's beginning to look like this long wandering in exile may be coming to an end.
I even felt comfortable enough with the progress to go out and buy a new washer and dryer. They're going to get quite a workout, as will the new dishwasher. What's coming next is the Spring Cleaning to end all spring cleanings. Well, not really, but you get the picture.
Next weekend comes the final touchup painting and painting and installing the trim, plus a couple of installations or so. Clean curtains, new curtains, new blinds and all sorts of fun stuff.
What bliss! To sleep in my own bed, just a few short weeks ahead. AHHHHHH! Heaven!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Monday, Monday
.....so good to me! Shades of The Mamas and the Papas. Now all I've gotta do is hope that it doesn't end up being one of those days I can't trust. *chuckle*
Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.
My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.
My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!
Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.
My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.
My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Contrary to Appearances
I have not died nor abandoned this lonely blog. Instead, I've been slogging through a slump, tired of being 'snakebit' on the repair situation, tired of rain, tired of feeling uncreative, tired of looking for solutions to problems, tired of being tired (ok - enough whining - it didn't really help. *chuckle*).
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
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