Breathing Under Water

 Glug, glug - I mean, greetings from the Stress Pool! The water is a bit cold these days, but since we've been completely submerged, what difference does that make?

The last time I wrote, we had given the real estate agent the date of March 1 for putting the Grouse House on the market. Events weren't going as swiftly as we would have liked, but that was in part because some people were procrastinating. DH might say it was me; I would disagree. 

We found a place to rent - not too far away, and closer to work for me, which has been sort of nice! I also don't have to get on the highway - a good thing, since it is under construction, and just not a pleasant ride at this point. I can stay on the road that runs right outside my front door - as do a bazillion other people! That road has traffic from early morning until late in the evening, and with single pane windows...yeah, you get my drift! We signed a lease on March 1st. Then the move could commence, but let me go back a couple steps.

While I had been purging, it was a slow go. Thirty-five years of memories and accumulated stuff doesn't disappear overnight! At the end of February, I had just about finished going through things in the office when DH announced he'd arranged for the first move for the following Wednesday, which was March 3rd.

"Oh, that's good...what's going first?"

"Your office and the studio."

Wait...what? All of my stuff? Holy Bunch of Stuff, Batman - that gives me less than a week to get this done, and while working full time! Boxes, bags, paint, inks, easel, tools, other supplies...I have a lot of paraphernalia that is associated with artistic endeavors. At first, it was just supposed to be a couple of the storage shelves...now it was everything! By Tuesday, March 2nd, I had a lot packed, but some things hadn't been touched. I was out of places to pack, out of room to move (I wasn't getting any help, because it was my stuff), and I had to go to bed. There just wasn't anything left, not with coming home exhausted from work and then trying to get this done. DH ended up going down in the middle of the night, and his idea was just to pile all the things still hanging about along the walls. Enough was cleared so that the movers could take the furniture out.

Then, the real work had to start. I started at one end of the room and moved across to the other, throwing most of it away. A lot for the shredding pile - apparently, you don't really have to keep paper work from fifteen years ago, but when you've forgotten it even exists...

The second and final furniture move was scheduled for March 18th, and move we did - in the pouring rain! Our first night in the rental, living out of boxes...what fun! But, our move wasn't over yet. There were still some boxes, and more stuff to go through - an 8 cubic foot dumpster was delivered to the driveway the following week, and we ended up filling it. Big thanks to my Mentor, Donna, who would pick something up and say, "You don't need this." Big Brother, Ms. Business, and Moink hauled a lot of stuff out to that dumpster, and boxes into cars.

The maids were coming on the 31st, so we needed to have the main rooms cleared. They came - wow, wish I'd had maids all along! Eric came by, his cape waving in the breeze, did a once through with DH, and they talked about things that could still be done. One was to remove the linoleum from the front hall - it was coming up anyway. DH went over one day to do that. Oh boy.

Adhesive. Someone used some super adhesive to put linoleum on a hard wood floor. My buddy, Cyndy, advised looking up what might remove it - but that varnish might come up with it, too (and it did!)- and then she popped over during Spring Break to give me hand for a couple hours. She even lent me a few tools to get the job done. It took hours of hard work, and several washes with hot water and Murphy's Oil Soap (good stuff!), but I got it finished. We painted a few rooms, Big Brother came by with his brother-in-law, Alex, and they put up the closet doors that have been sitting in the garage for a thousand years. I looked around at the cleaned, fixed-up house and said to DH, "Hey, want to move back?"

I can't even explain the look he gave me, but in a nutshell, the answer was 'no'.

It went on the market a few days ago - the photos were amazing! I entertained myself at lunchtime on Friday by looking at them on the computer - and started sobbing when I got to one that looked out from our bedroom to the back patio, remembering how I loved lying in bed on a summer day, listening to rain pattering on the aluminum awning. Remembering adding block to extend the patio; how the boys used to run through the woods up behind the house; when Big Brother threw a basketball through a garage door window; footsteps running through the house as they chased each other; the daylilies I'd lovingly planted in the backyard...but managed to get it together before my afternoon classes. 

I am happy to report that there has already been an offer, and we'll discuss it with Superhero Real Estate agent Eric tonight.

So many other things to talk about, so come on over to the pool, and please bring an extra towel for me (mine are still packed!) The adventure continues! I just hope Eric wears his red cape.

And, We're Off!

 The water is certainly warm at the Stress Pool!

The stress is mounting, what with a new semester, 400 new students to teach, and I'm simply reminding myself to breathe. Pretty much every five minutes, but it seems necessary.

Then, there is the little added addition of "THE MOVE".

DH has disliked this house for a very, very long time. His parents bought this house in 1971, and while he did live away for a short time, you could say DH has lived here for 50 years. He's said for the last couple of years that 2021 would be the year we would move. And, as the time approached, he would remind me that it was coming. Last year we leased a storage unit, and got all the holiday decorations and some other superfluous things stored. We did bring the Christmas tree and two boxes of ornaments to the house for the holiday, and now they're back in storage. We also re-inherited our original bedroom set back from Morticia and the Doctor when they moved to their new house, along with a dresser that belonged to Big Brother - those are currently in the garage, waiting to go to a second storage unit, which we will rent in February. My question to DH, once he had retired from his retirement job in December: "So, now that you're home and have time to begin packing,  do you have a plan?"

His answer: "Putting it off."

Well, in two weeks we have gone from "putting it off" into "high gear"! 

Making a somewhat long story short (no somewhat about it!), we've gone through crazy applications processes for house and apartment rentals for places that were already rented (but they were happy to take our money!) to other ideas for what to do about "THE MOVE".

"What do you think we should do?" DH asked.

"I think we should call Eric." Now, picture a real estate agent, young, wearing a flowing cape, arms crossed over his chest. He put American flags on our lawns last Fourth of July. We've been planning on calling him about listing. He's pretty awesome.

On Friday DH arranged for him to come for a visit on Sunday.

After the tour of the house, as we sat having coffee and cookies, DH mentioned that he had thought perhaps we could buy a condo at the Bower Hill apartments - then Ms. Business might be interested in taking it (apparently they had already discussed this). News to me!

Before we ended our meeting, DH looked at Eric and said, "Five weeks?"

"Sure."

So, there you have it. Five weeks. Five weeks to figure out what we're doing, pack up a house, and find a new home for my piano. Morticia and the Doctor are interested. Just a few more logistics.

Yup, the water certainly is warm in the Stress Pool. Better than being cold, I suppose! So, breakfasts are made for the week and in the fridge, and "Adventures in Babysitting" is on the telly.

As Scarlet O'Hara said, "Tomorrow is another day!" So, next time you're in the neighborhood, stop by the Stress Pool. And, don't worry - the pool is portable. It follows me wherever I go!

Words and Bullets

As a small child, when Big Brother got upset with me, he'd clench his fists, screw up his face, and in the fiercest voice a five-year-old can muster would threaten, "Oooooh, I'm going to hit you and kick you and push you down the steps!"

So, with that image in mind, did you all kick Father Time down the steps last night? There was a headline during a news show I saw this morning labeled 'Hindsight is 2020'. And, while that saying has a completely different meaning, I took pause. Does it? We've learned so many things from the past year we can take into the rest of our lives. This is the time we make plans, setting goals for the new year. Where we look back and take stock of where we are physically, mentally, spiritually. We resolve to do better; eat better; live better.

Personally, I don't make resolutions. I often found dwindling oomph to make them happen before we turned the calendar to February. Do I want to do better? Of course, and this year I was helped by Google and Youtube. They are so good at suggesting things I might be interested in watching. Recently, one of those suggestions was 'bullet journaling'. I had heard of it, but knew nothing about it. I bit the bullet (pun intended!). I watched someone set up a 2021 bullet journal for someone else. She talked about tracking, setting goals (pushing and pulling - all I could think of was that animal from Dr. Doolittle - the original - called the Push-me-pull-me), and basically how to use these little journals full of dots. Then, I watched another. This person painted pictures and inserted them inside the journal. Someone else actually drew and painted inside the journal. Another journalist included her plan book (she's a teacher in New Zealand). Big Brother said they would have loved those books when he and his siblings were children - it would have made playing that game where you make squares and claiming it by inserting your initial much easier to play, rather than having to make a page full of dots on their own! But, no matter how it was or wasn't decorated, the bullet journalists all agreed on one thing: you build your journal on your Word for the Year

 All of this information got me thinking (not the game part). I talked with DiDi about it - she said she'd always been interested in bullet journaling. So, I bought a couple at Michael's (inexpensive, but would give us plenty of paper with which to practice), and we got together one day over Christmas break to work on them. Her word for the year is 'Grace', and she started using her new marker set to create pretty flowers on some of her pages. She's really good at this!

I had already made a list of pages to make. I had also already decided to make it a book chronicling my creative journey - to last for years, I hope! There is the title page, a page for 2021, a page to track my yearly spending on art supplies (in an effort to save money!), and a page to track books I'm reading. Then I got to January, then the month in review where I can track what I've worked on each day - color coded, of course! The plan there is to make that page colorful with working habits. No more excuses that I'm too tired from working all day! The next several pages are for daily reflections on what I've worked on that day; ideas I'd like to try; what didn't work.

The only thing I hadn't come up with was a word for the year. It seems daunting to think of one word that would impact an entire year. I mean, what word wants all of that responsibility placed upon its shoulders? What does this year hold for me? A move to a new house which entails packing everything and possibly moving twice; are we remote teaching or full-in with no possibility of  adequate social distancing - things that are going to take up a lot of my energies. Truthfully, the only word I could come up with was SURVIVAL, but felt that was a little defeatist. Then, it came to me: why one word? Why not a word a month?

While surviving and dodging bullets (see what I did there?!) might be my underlying theme, my word for January is CREATE, with a quote from Kurt Vonnegut: "To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it".  I wrote "So do it" at the bottom of each January page, a daily reminder to get cracking on the things that make me who I am, so I'm not lost in that vast ocean of humanity. My biggest challenge is going to be making it a daily habit to not only check out that creative journey planner, but to actually set foot in that studio space.

But, while I'm tracking and reflecting that journey, I still have another planner that I use for work and the rest of my life. It's important to me to keep those things separate from my creative life. I can close one book and open up another without distractions from that other world. I often don't take my phone with me while I'm creating for that very same reason. I might listen to music, but that's just background where my thoughts can float.

If choosing one word for the year is daunting to you as well, what will you strive for in January? Have you ever tried keeping a bullet journal, or any journal? How long did you use it? Who do you have to help you keep your goals? You can always count on me here at the Stress Pool, so bring your journal - or not - and let's help each other along the road to a happier year! In the meantime, I'll be treading water in the deep end. See you again soon!

Santa Hats and Cookies

 Merry Christmas - and for those who don't celebrate, Happy Day!

It has been a strange year, so why not make it a slightly strange holiday? I was missing singing at mass last night, something I look forward to every year. The choir would have been working on songs starting at the end of September, and a merry time we would have had!  Last year we were in Williamsburg for Christmas, which was a wonderful time. I didn't sing with the choir last Christmas, and though I sort of missed it, I didn't expect at the time there would barely be any singing for 2020. So, when I tuned in to a live stream of mass last night, seeing all the red poinsettia plants amidst the lit trees, there was a tiny, bittersweet pang of "I wish" in my heart. 

We did put up the tree, and because everything is in storage, we only brought two boxes of ornaments with the tree back to the house. I don't believe I've unveiled DH's plan for 2021 - more on that in the new year. For now, know that many holiday items are in a storage unit, and much of our household will be traveling there to join it all in the coming months.

One box is filled with an assortment of red, burgundy, and gold balls - plus a few other spheres that hold special meaning, like the one with Snoopy that commemorated the year I graduated high school, and one for our first Christmas as a married couple. The other box is labeled "Santa Ornaments", which contains Santa ornaments (no kidding!), plus angels, Hallmarks' Frosty Friends (which we eventually stopped buying) and another series with penguins, which Moink usually got in his stocking. We have collected several series of ornaments depicting Santa from around the world. There is Pere Noel, one is Father Christmas, Santa Lucia, Saint Nicholas, and so on. There are egg0 shaped wooden Santas, and some are Santa icicles that have lovely textured and painted details. Then, there are the angels. DH made a dozen of ceramic angels in white and gold. There is a Jim Shore angel. A new one given to me by BFF - two angels with arms linked, with the word 'friends' written on it. And, one elf - an ornament made from a nylon stocking that was stuffed with fluff, and sewn into an elf form - wearing a Santa hat, and nothing else! It was given to me by a 7th grader - Billie Jo - from my very first teaching assignment, oh so many years ago. It must go on the tree every year, no matter what. Not DH's style for certain, but he's been very understanding, for 36 years now!

Speaking of DH, he's been pretty busy, too! Completely retired now, he's been out a lot in the past week, and every time he comes home, he brings another goodie. Working full-time doesn't afford the spare minutes to bake cookies. One thing that has always been a big part of his Christmas is the baking. and he wand to make up a nice cookie tray, so he's been buying them. There are thumbprints and cheesecake cookies, and little truffle/mint delights; there is apricot kolochki, and amoretto cookies, and don't forget the lady fingers...and the list just goes on. There are also Italian meat and cheese appetizers to put out today to munch on while we wait for the roast beast to cook. Cookies and snacks galore. Not complaining! 

Of course, there is a story to go with the Santa hat reference. Years ago, I worked for a while at a store called  Children's Palace, a massive toy store. (boy, now there's a treasure trove of stories!) I was walking through the store at the end of a shift doing a clean-up. People would decide not to get something and set it down where it didn't belong (can you imagine?). There would also be the awful chore of finding packaging from things that had been stolen, and of course, that all had to be written up and reported as losses. Not a good thing for any retail store! During one of those clean-up runs, I found this Santa hat. It didn't look like any of the others (it is a really nice quality!), and there was no tag. So, I brought it up to the front desk. My friend Dorothy said, "I've never seen one like that here before. Do you want it? It isn't like the others, but we can ring it up using one of those tags."

So I bought it. 

Did Santa lose his hat? Where did it come from? I'll never know for certain, but I've kept it safe all these years, just in case he comes looking for it. So, one Christmas, I don't know what was going on, but we must have been decorating for the holiday.  I must have been verbally disapproving of something when the hat was unpacked. Apparently, I stopped mid-chastisement to exclaim, "Ooh, Santa hat!" This became a favorite of the children and DH, who would point and yell, "Look, Santa hat!" if they were about to get an earful from their loving mother. And, it hasn't died down. While I no longer need to chastise my adult children, they are quite quick to point out Santa hats. Ha, ha ha. I mean, ho, ho ho!

So, in this weirdness of 2020, we are still looking for the things that make us happy - obviously, cookies, and of course, Santa hats. I hope you are enjoying the things that make you happy with the loved ones you are able to safely gather around you. Here at the pool, we'll be dipping our toes into the warm memories that make this time of year so special. Let's learn from this past year, taking those lessons into the new, and know that together, we'll make a difference for each other. Hugs.

One and a Half Minutes Left in the Game

 Hey there! Welcome back to the Stress Pool, where the water is warm and the concession stand never closes. Christmas cookies are on the menu now, along with eggnog and everything to go with it!

Have you ever noticed how you end up with a train of thought, with no idea of the origin? That happens to me all the time, like it did this morning. DH and I were on our way to the grocery store, each mired in our own thoughts. Mine were stuck on trying to remember today's date. (I eventually did, by the way!). Then, it came to me how close we are to ringing in the New Year, and beads of sweat broke out along my hairline. "Oh no," I thought, "don't jinx it!" Don't worry, nothing was uttered out loud - but it did remind me of a story.

Many several years ago (and it had to be before 2006, because Jerome Bettis was still playing), Mima, BFFB, and possibly one of the girls and I went out to do a little Christmas shopping. On the way home, BFFB asked if I would tune in to the Steeler game to catch the score. We were in the fourth quarter, and if I remember correctly, it was a very important game. Die-hard fans, Mima and BFFB.

Let me digress here: Big Brother was a kicker for both his high school and college football teams. I know squat about football, except what BFFB explained to me as we sat in the stands and watched our boys - her son, Davis, a year ahead of Big Brother, was also on the high school team. However, there were a few things I learned that nobody had to teach me. One of those things was the course of the game could change at any given moment. You see where this is going...

They were close to the end of the fourth quarter. The Steelers had the ball, and we were ahead. The announcer said, "There's a minute and a half left in the game." Cheers erupted in the car.

Then, I spouted out the one thing I knew to be true: "A minute and a half? Anything can happen in a minute and a half!"

As if on cue, Bettis fumbled the ball, and the other team (whoever they were) retrieved it. There might have been some yardage gained - like, enough to give them points advantage. I don't quite remember all the details, and believe I've blocked it out. It was good for me that I was driving and the car was moving, if you catch my drift. I might have found myself stranded on the road! No 'bad' words were said, but apparently it was my fault the fumble occurred, and the mood of our group was radically changed. 

"How could you say that?"

 "What's wrong with you?"

 In the fraction of a second I'd failed my mother, my children, my friends, my city. Just lead me to the path of shame!

So, this morning as we drove along and my thoughts drifted, I bit my tongue. No, I did not say it, nor will I type those incriminating words here. I will not be blamed for any troubles in the New Year brought on by jinxing events that have nothing to do with me, because I obviously hold some crazy power over the cosmos. For the record, last New Year's eve I did not say that 2020 would have to be better than 2019 - I didn't think 2019 was that bad! So, if Atlas shrugs, oceans rise, mountains fall, or your car doesn't start, it won't be my fault.

Wondering what happened in the game? In order to regain my status as a respectable Pittsburgher, I said, "There is still over a minute left; anything can happen!" Amid groans by my companions and by some miracle, Pittsburgh regained the ball, scored a touchdown, kicked the extra point, and won the game. I was redeemed, but it was decided that I should never listen to or watch a Steeler game again. And I haven't. So, when they lost last week and broke their winning streak, that was somebody else's doing, not mine. (We will not count that 10 seconds where I checked the score and saw that we were ahead.)

Let's just live in the moments we have left this year, and keep looking for the good. Our family has had a lot of good runs in the midst of the chaos and turmoil. We have each other. We have good friends. Even some scary health moments have been overcome, at least for now. I just need a little work on keeping track of the thought train - especially the express!

So, pop on down to the Pool, and we can talk about what's on our minds, but maybe after the game. You know.

The Great Purge

 The GREAT PURGE has begun.

Although, if you look at the progress I made yesterday, you might not agree. After eight hours and two filled trash bags (tall kitchen size - don't be too impressed!), I can just about see the top of my desk and one corner of the office.

The office. It is directly off the garage, where we walk through with groceries to the laundry room, before going up to the kitchen. It has been a bedroom three times: once for the boys, once for Mima, and lastly for Morticia; a den; a catch-all room, and now, it is officially known as the office. It holds my desk, desktop computer, two chairs and a small table I found at a consignment shop, a book shelf, end table, and a lamp. There is a lovely window and a lot of plants that usually go to school with me, but with this year's schedule and uncertainties, are staying home permanently. When we came home from school last March for full on-line learning, it turned into my home-away-from-home. When school ended in June, I turned off the computer and walked away. Everything sat as it was until I packed things up for the new school year. Well, some things, and not nearly enough!

We decided months ago that this coming spring would be the big move - more about that another time - but the PURGE must begin. We've been in this house as a family for 34 years, and his mother many before that. We have about 50 years of things to get rid of, pack up, and make presentable. I decided that I would start with the office. It's small, and once it was pristine, it would send me off into a whirlwind of energetic cleaning mode. Right?

Educational magazines - several I can use, most I'm ready to get rid of. Twenty years of paperwork from my mother's bitter divorce papers; several more piles from her stay at Senior Prison. Months of paid bill receipts - mostly utility, and fortunately, none past-due. Mail that someone nicely sat on the desk in October that I just found yesterday. Planners from years past, photos, and saved memories. All found, and now organized in one form or another. There is still a pile of stuff (books, mostly) still waiting for my attention. That's today, along with beginning in what we used to refer to as 'the workroom'. That room will be a little easier - most of it can be tossed, and I expect to fill another bag or two by the end of the day.

If you think it's easy, it isn't. My mantra in this case: am I willing to pack and move this?

In many cases, the answer is no. I'm beginning to understand my father from when they moved years ago (another bitter page in my mother's memory as her vintage salt and pepper collection disappeared). He got rid of things that he wasn't willing to move, no matter what they might have meant to someone else.

So, in fairness, I've warned the children: anything not claimed by December 31 is leaving the house, and I don't mean to the storage unit. I think that's pretty fair! We'll be keeping Waste Management busy for some time.

But, not the Pool. No, the Stress Pool is portable, and will be going wherever we go, and is open all the time. Come on in - I'll gladly take a break to sit and chat.

I'm curious. What would you be able to get rid of in the blink of an eye?  

Until next time!

A Time for Thanks

 Greetings from the deep end of the Stress Pool!

'Remember last New Year's Eve? Were you one of those people who said "Thank heavens 2019 is behind us! 2020 has GOT to be better!" Well, we are nearing the end of 2020 - the year to remember to try to forget. DH said the last year he said the new year had to be better was when we rang in 2008 - and two months later Eggbert died. He decided never to tempt the fates again. I usually look for the brighter side of the penny, and tend not to say it, either. There's always some shining moment to remember in any year.

Today, Donna and I went to our local Blick art store - I order a lot of supplies online, but had never been to the store in Shadyside. I seldom drive into any part of the city - Oakland is the best I do. But, since I went to high school in that area, I felt pretty confident for where I was going...seems I've lived in the suburbs a long time! And, high school graduation was a mere...well, I'm not going there! It was a long time ago. The ride did give us a lot of time to talk.

One of the reasons we went there was because we meet once a month to discuss our artistic endeavors, and of course, many other things, too. That's what a 30+ year friendship is all about. One of the topics that came up, of course, was Covid, and the effect it has had on our outlook on life, and quite possibly the lack of motivation we sometimes have. She had some questions about how school was going, and how some of our building have had to close, and that we are continuing with a hybrid model for this semester. She's had some ups and downs with some personal issues - demands on her time with job and family; I'm often mentally exhausted after a day of work - kids in the room, kids online - planning, re-planning, and then planning some more. While the spirit is willing, the brain is too tired!

The revelation came to me later. It isn't that I don't see the seriousness of the situation - of course I do. There is still so much researchers are learning about the long lasting effects of the disease, regardless of age, and we all need to be aware and cautious. What I won't do, however, is let this disease rule my life. I learned this with grief: it is there, it never leaves, but we can still carry on.

Part of the wardrobe is now a mask. I wish others felt the same - many young people we saw in Shadyside were mask-less and in groups. I hope they don't take anything to their families over the holidays. I have a small bottle of hand sanitizer with me at all times, and usually use my own pen at a store if one is needed. (Truthfully, I always did that!) My hands are often dry at the end of the day from frequent washings. I see a handful of people, and only those people. We're having two Thanksgiving dinners this year - one with Morticia and The Doctor, and one with Big Brother, Didi, and the Little Man. Big Brother and Morticia haven't been on speaking terms for some time, but even if they made up right this second, because they seldom see each other, I would hesitate to have them all come into contact with each other for a long period of time. It's a matter of keeping each other safe. DH and I see all of them, so we're not worried. In fact, DH has less contact with people than I do, but that's how he's always been.

We still do a fair share of take-out (got to keep those businesses going!), and we cook a lot at home (but then, we always did!). And now that he's home more, DH has taken on a bit more of that role, and he's still the good cook he was when we were first married. Yay for me! 

Covid, grief, clothes fitting a little more snugly... We have a choice - get through it, or let it rule you. Not today. Except the pants thing. I'm working on that!

In this time of looking back and giving thanks, I am grateful for many things: the love of my family and close friends; being able to work and having a job to go to; for supportive parents of students while we try to figure all this out; for food and a roof over our heads, clean running water, electricity, and heat. I am also grateful that Mima did not have to live through this. Isolation in the nursing home would have surely killed her. (She also wouldn't have gotten those sausage biscuits, milk, and chips - that would have been worse!) I do still miss her every day, and am thankful for the love my mother gave me.

I hope you also see the goodness in your life, and that many blessings are still coming your way! Give thanks for each other, and for a brighter future. Stop back anytime - there is always room for you at the Stress Pool - but I may ask you to wear a mask!