Castle Progress Update

The project is coming along. We were close, so close, to having the house ready for them to move into by my overly ambitious target date of the first week of November. And then. (Life seems to have an endless supply of 'and thens'.)

In this case, it's the boiler. We'd had the furnace guy (who is also the electrician) look at the system earlier this year. At that time, he thought it could be helped to limp along until next year, at which point Joe and Rita planned to replace it. 

Time went on, we finished cleaning out the basement, took out a few walls. As I was cleaning up the debris, I found some tree roots from the zombie tree we cut down in the spring coming up through a crack in the basement floor (it REALLY doesn't want to die). The roots ran along the base of the concrete stair, then wound their way into the belly of the boiler. As I pulled them out, I felt some resistance; they'd wound their way around something on the inside.

At the time, I joked that we needed to make sure Albert took a good look at the unit before we turned it on, to make sure the roots weren't integral to the operation of the unit. Turns out I wasn't joking.

When he came back, just before the cold snap hit, to make sure all was OK, he got a better look at the unit than he'd been able to get with the wall blocking a good view of the burners and the inside of the box. The expression on his face was priceless as he tried to come up with a tactful way to tell us he'd rethought his conclusion from the spring, and really, really didn't want to even attempt to fire it up. The roots had wound their way into the rust of the burners - he no longer wanted to even attempt a repair.

So, we started looking at the tag, to dig into the details of when it was installed, how old it was. Turns out it was made before manufacturers started putting serial numbers on boilers - ?sometime in the sixties? I was already convinced we needed a replacement; that clinched the deal.

So, Albert is out looking for the best deal he can find on a new unit, and our local weather decided to turn unseasonably cold. With no way to heat the house, we've been closely watching a couple of thermometers we brought over, to make sure the plants, plumbing and paint supplies are safe. So far, so good; the house has stabilized around 40 degrees and tonight should see the last of the below freezing temps for the next few weeks.

But plaster and paint work can't be done when it's below 50, and so my work there has come to a screeching halt. I'm not complaining - I've been over there almost every day for the last three months; it feels good to just stay home for a bit. This latest wrinkle will push the move date out by a couple of weeks, but if that's the worst thing to happen to me this month, I'll be a happy camper.

The work will still be there when the temps go back up later this week. In the meantime, I have time to stop for a few days; to walk in the snow, to snuggle down in a blanket with a good book. I'd be a fool to complain.

One step at a time, more often forward than back - eventually, we'll get there.

A Helping Hand

Sometimes, we all need a friend to lend a helping hand.

For the last few months, I've been honored to have two of them - Ian and Tom - who have come to help at the castle pretty regularly.

There's still a lot of work to be done there, the remains-to-be-done list is dauntingly long, and I tend to get overwhelmed and begin to believe it's NEVER GOING TO GET DONE!!!!!, no matter how hard I work at it.

Then Tom shows up on Friday morning and we pick a spot to work on for the day. He is cheerful and brings a great attitude with him every time he shows up. He's also good at fixing stuff. He's the reason the trash is gone from the house and garage. He'd show up at 7:30 and we'd haul buckets until around lunchtime. It's not that I'm incapable of hauling buckets on my own, it's that company makes the job go much faster. His willingness to tackle the mess made the piles seem smaller from the get-go. This past week was the first one where there were no remaining rooms of trash to be emptied - it felt odd to not have to dig out the wheelbarrow and buckets. (Instead, we took down all the broken windows for repair.)

Ian has also been showing up most weeks. He has zero experience working on a house, but is willing to do the grunt cleanup work that needs doing. He's peeled most of the wallpaper from the entry hallway, a necessary and tedious first step in being able to repair the walls. He's washed down woodwork, helped me clean up the garden, and last week, started cleaning a good decade's worth of dust and lost items out of the main bedroom radiators. (Sunglasses, old photos, and an old pill bottle were the most noteworthy finds.)

They freely give of their time and talent, asking nothing in return.

They remind me there was life before the isolation of COVID-19. My people are still there, I will get to laugh and eat and sit freely with them again one day, God willing.

They remind me not everyone is only in it for what they can get - sometimes, some people show up just to see what they can give.

They remind me progress, slow, steady progress, is being made. When they show up each week, and properly admire the work that's been done in their absence, it gives me before and after markers and I can see that, yes, I am not where I was yesterday. And, since I know they're coming, it give me motivation to be sure to have something done I can show therm.

The grace they've brought cannot be commanded or earned; it can only be freely given.

I don't feel worthy of their gifts, but I sure do appreciate them.

Plans? Who Needs Plans?

I retired a year ago. At the time, I was a little concerned because I hadn't made any real plans for how I would spend my time. I'd done a lot of reading on retirement prep, and the consensus there was that winging it is a bad idea.

Hmmm. The consensus didn't take the pandemic into account. Any plans I would have made wouldn't have come to fruition anyways in this topsy-turvy year. 

I spent the first few weeks of my retirement last October finishing up painting the exterior of my house, and visiting Alaska for a friend's daughter's wedding. November and December flew by as they always have, but with less time pressure around getting ready for the holidays. January and February, I enjoyed sleeping in and taking an art class, reacquainting myself with pencil and paper. By March, I was ready to start making some plans. I flew out to California intending to spend a few days on the beach figuring out what I wanted to do next.

Turns out, Covid-19 decided what I wanted to do next was to go into lockdown mode. Instead of spending my California days indolently lounging on the sand, I spent them helping my daughter and granddaughter adjust to staying at home. It wasn't what I'd planned, but I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I came back home at the end of the month to an empty calendar; the classes I'd planned to take had all been canceled.

So, I decided to help Joe and Rita out for a month or so with their castle restoration effort. A month turned into eight, and we're targeting for them to move in the first part of November. (Yes, it's really that close! Not like it'll be done or anything, but most of the second story will be livable and the kitchen and bathroom will be functional. I'm excited for them - it'll be a cool place to live!)

So, here I am. A year into retirement, I am right where I started. I have the same list of perhaps and wishes and maybes I had put together a year ago. Heck, give or take a few items, I have the same list of house fix-it tasks I did then.

But this time around, I'm not as concerned about those non-existent plans of mine. Winging it has served me well. Despite everything, life is good, and I am grateful. 

Instead of fretting about canceled opportunities, I've been taking things one day at a time. I will continue to do so until either the virus catches me despite my precautions, or a vaccine comes onto the scene. I do hope to sign up for some online classes. Rumor has it that I can zoom into any number of yoga and art classes to occupy my mind once I don't have the baby and his parents around to distract me. 

Those comfy jammie pants I bought last year are still serviceable, and I have started to gather a new stack of books to read. That's enough plans for me for now. 

Here's to year 2 of retirement - I'm looking forward to the gifts it will bring!

Same Ol', Same Ol'

I keep losing track of the days, the weeks. (According to the interweb, I have a lot of company.) My days have become a round of get up, work at the castle, come home, play with the baby for a bit, do the necessary chores to keep my house from falling apart, stretch, go to bed, repeat. I've worked there almost every day since my return from Minnesota in early August; it's a lot like having a job! The only thing that seems to change is the household chore of the day, and when that's the high point of my day, I think I need a bit more variety, just sayin'.

It feels as if I make no progress at the castle, but I know that's not accurate. I have proof otherwise - I've started jotting down what I did each day in my calendar, and when I look back, the progress tracks are clear. 

The bathroom tile is almost complete; we just need to set the shelves and install the grout. When I finished work today, three of the upstairs rooms were ready to paint. I've started to set goals for myself - the current one is to have the rooms painted by Friday. I've been telling people I'd like to have it move-inable by the end of October. I know it's a stretch, but if Joe and I keep at it, it's not out of the realm of possibility.  (I'll keep you posted!)

I found a happy spot in the garden there earlier this week. A friend of mine had brought over lunch, and I was trying to find a quiet place we could sit, so wandered with him to the lower level of the garden. There's a curved stone bench there, the seat protected from the wind that day by the high stone back. I'd never sat on it before, just cleaned around it as I tried to reclaim the garden from the zombie trees. (also known as the Tree of Paradise, they are persistent weed trees - some of the ones we cut down late in the spring sprouted baby trees from the trunks lying on the ground, both cut edges exposed to the air. I had to admire their grit and determination to survive, even as I figured out ways to make them go away and stay gone.)

We sat, distributed our lunch, and started talking. As we talked, I looked ahead and realized I could only see one building from my vantage point - the well-maintained back side of a hospice center. The rest of my vision was filled with a sea of trees filling the slope down to the park behind the house. I could hear children laughing in the distance as they explored the playground there, a happy and welcome sound. The sun was warm on my face, the sky a beautiful autumn blue, studded with fluffy white clouds.

I swear I felt happy vibes emanating from the stone seat I was sitting on. I like to think someone spent a lot of contented minutes there enjoying a pocket of wilderness in the heart of the city. I also like to think the bench welcomed our presence; it's not been sat on for a lot of years. I think it's been a little lonely.

I've decided to do my best to make sure it doesn't get too lonely again this season. Already, I've stolen some time from more important work to clean up the dead treelets (I sprayed them a month ago with Roundup, it killed over half of the zombie babies), to pick up the sticks littering the ground, to gather the stone fragments into a pile and to remove the inevitable pieces of broken glass and bits of mortar. I can't count this effort as work, though I've already filled four leaf bags with stick fragments. Rather, I count it as tending my soul as well as the soul of the garden - both a bit tattered and unkempt, both ready for the darkness of the winter season soon to come - for myself, I hope it will be a time of rest, reflection and renewal.

In the meantime, I am reminded to stop and see the beauty in front of me - nature is showing her brightest colors as she prepares for winter's rest.

Beauty Is.