Nothing Sweet About It

One-eyed Rudy

Life has settled down it seems. The AC in the condo was replaced and appears to really be fixed this time (knock on wood). No more battling with the landlord to do the right thing. No more reasons to delay settling in here. No more distractions from the day-in, day-out grind of life. I've got that, "now what?" feeling that is probably common after big life events. I'm feeling a little depressed, and when I'm depressed the only thing I can think of to make myself feel better is food. So last night I binged on ice cream. It worked. I felt better almost immediately, and fell asleep early from overdosing on sugar. Relief. Escape. For a fleeting moment.

And now I'm right back in the same place I was yesterday with the added heavy blues that always follow one of these episodes. Sugary regret. There's nothing sweet about it.

How Simple is That?

Lettuce Wrap (with a couple of bites missing)
Turkey, bacon, olives, mayo, black pepper

How simple is that? A lettuce leaf with sliced deli turkey breast, bacon which I pre-cooked Sunday night, a few sliced olives, a dollop of mayo, and a sprinkle of black pepper. As easy as a traditional sandwich and much better for me. I feel so virtuous! But I must confess I ate two of these. What can I say? I like to eat.

Feeling Better Already

Cabin CrossFit

It is good to be back in the city. I arrived home about 5pm yesterday. Once Melvin and Rudy were settled, I went straight back out to the grocery store. That's the first real grocery shopping I've done since late March. I bought vegetables, fruit, meat, eggs, nuts -- everything I need to eat well this week. No more excuses. It's time to make eating well a top priority again. This morning I had eggs, blueberries, and almonds. And coffee of course. Feeling better already.

The Shelf That Daddy Built

Sleeping Loft at the Cabin with the recently added "shelf that Daddy built".

The shelf in the picture above used to sit on the back porch at 110 Lamont Drive. Sheryl and Mike helped me load it for moving to the cabin back on May 22. It's been sitting on the porch at the cabin ever since, but today I managed to move it upstairs to it's intended location. My dad built this shelf from heavy plywood back in the late 60's. He painted it brown, and it became the focal point in our sparsely furnished living room. A 13" black and white television with rabbit ear antenna sat on the very top. A well-worn, heavily used set of The World Book Encyclopedia filled the first shelf from the top-right. Assorted other books joined the mix: The Best Loved Poems of the American People, a bird book that my brother loved, and The Holy Bible to name a few.

This shelf that Daddy built is no fine antique and wouldn't bring more than a few dollars at a yard sale, but it is a family heirloom in the truest sense.

It Was Only A Dream

This mushroom caught my attention while walking yesterday morning.

It rained like crazy here last night. It started about 9pm and poured for hours. I'm not sure what time it stopped or how many inches we got. Whatever it was, we needed it, if for no other reason to take the edge off this heat wave.

The cabin has a metal roof, and when it rains, you know it. And in a heavy rain like last night, it screams at you to tune everything else out and focus on the rain. So I turned off the TV, opened up the front door and listened to the rain. I fell asleep early listening to the rain. I woke up a few times long enough to realize it was still raining and then went right back to sleep. I dreamed I was still living at 110 Lamont Drive and the roof was leaking. Because that house sits under a gigantic oak tree which occasionally drops limbs in a storm, over the years I had my share of issues with the roof. In the nearly 16 years I lived there, I think I had this problem only twice, but that was enough to induce anxiety in all subsequent big rains. I smiled from ear to ear this morning when I realized last night's roof leak was only a dream.

Thanks, Rudy

Rudy at the Cabin

I came to the cabin for a few days while the AC at the condo is being repaired. I could easily get all in a tiz about the AC not working and the fact that the landlord didn't fix it properly back in May when the problem first manifested, before I moved in. Or, I can just take life as it comes and deal with it. I can even see it as a blessing to have a reason to work from the cabin this week. A friend of mine said, "I think it's your guardian angel stepping in to help you ease into your new life -- giving you some comfort time at the cabin with Melvin [and Rudy]". I think she's right. I am enjoying being here, enjoying the quiet and the slow pace. Enjoying my family just across the way. Appreciating the reminder of why I sold the house in the first place -- so that I could have a finished cabin in the woods and a small, low-maintenance apartment in the city. So that I could split my time between country and city if I choose. Without the AC breaking, who knows when I would have gotten around to really spending more than a day or two here? Who knows when I would have gotten around to packing Rudy up and bringing him with me? Rudy's ability to travel with me is key to having dual residences. I can't spend extended time here if I'm worrying about Rudy at home alone in the condo.

And it is Rudy who provides the life lesson for this week. I have always pegged him as being more attached to his place than to me. I always thought he wouldn't travel well, and I had good reason for thinking that. The fact that I couldn't get my hands on him was a hint of how difficult it would be to bring him with me. The fact that he always fought me like a wild animal when I tried to crate him for a trip to the vet was another clue. But a bigger crate was all he needed to go in without a fuss. I can even pick him up now without too much trickery. He adjusted quickly to life at the condo, and he took to the cabin like it was his idea. He has hardly missed a beat over the last two weeks, and he's 15. That's pretty old in cat-years. So from Rudy this week I have learned that you CAN teach an old cat new tricks, and "it is never too late to be who you might have been." Thanks, Rudy.

This Gardenia

Perfection in a Pickle Jar:
A simple, all-white bouquet of gardenia, gooseneck loosestrife, and hydrangea 'Blushing Bride'.

I visited my mom last Saturday and picked a bouquet of gardenia, loosestrife, and hydrangea from her garden. She gave me an old pickle jar to use for a vase. This gardenia is the classic old-fashioned kind with glossy green leaves and large, fragrant, pure-white flowers on a volkswagen-sized shrub. I gave her this gardenia way back in the fall of 1998; it was a small rooted cutting that came from a plant growing at 110 Lamont Drive. That was the year I first fell in love with gardenias in general, and this one in particular. My father had just died on June 2. I returned home later that day after a week of death-bed vigil to do laundry and pack a new bag for the funeral. When I pulled in the driveway, I was welcomed by this gardenia in full bloom. It had never bloomed like that before. Or maybe Daddy's death had awakened something in me that allowed me to truly see it for the first time. Whatever the case, that's the story of this gardenia and how I fell in love.

Starting to Lift

Melvin on moving day.
I cried when he sought the farthest corner of the porch and just sat there, looking lost and sad.

These pictures of Melvin and Rudy (below) capture the sadness, loss, and emptiness I have experienced in recent weeks. I am starting to feel better, well enough to write again. But what kind of writer would I be if I glossed over this huge life event and just moved on to the next thing? Selling 110 Lamont Drive was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I bought that house in 1994 and spent the last 16 years pouring my heart into it. I painted it, refinished the floors, furnished it, added the back porch, renovated the kitchen, updated the bathroom, added the plantation shutters, landscaped it, re-roofed it, re-wired it, replaced the heating and air, the water heater, sewer line, and water pipes. I filled the attic, closets, and cupboards with 16 years of memories. I buried my beloved cat, Teddie in the backyard. I hosted many Thanksgiving dinners for my family in that house, including my father who is now deceased. I threw countless tennis balls for Melvin there -- many of them still lost in the shrubbery. I made a life for myself in that house. It was gut-wrenching to leave. It's hard to think about it without tears welling up. Loss. Grief. Sadness. That's what I'm experiencing. It feels bad for a time, but it will lift. . . is already starting to lift.

Rudy on moving day.

I don't like this picture of me, but that's how I looked at the end of this ordeal.
Tired, heavy, and sad.