Final Weekend of “Project Lease House”

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Last weekend, to put most of the finishing touches on the updating/refreshing of my mother’s house in Sherwood, Oregon, in preparation to start leasing it. The odyssey started on Thanksgiving weekend when Rich and I felt it would be best to move my mother to our Mount Vernon house where we could better monitor her care.

We also thought it would be a good time – dead of winter – to tackle dispensing with her household belongings, and clean up the house. She’d always had lots of animals, mostly cats, which did a splendid job of perfuming the floors, walls and cabinets. Nearly every surface had been damaged. Not good.

Previously, I wrote about the work we did from Thanksgiving through mid-January in the post, “Life Happens.” We continue working on the house, usually every weekend, taking off work, and leaving on a Thursday or Friday morning. In February, Rich was at the house three weekends in a row.

Because I had significantly less vacation than Rich, three times I took Amtrak after work, and joined Rich in Portland to work on the house Saturday through Sunday.

While Rich needs to return on Tuesday, March 12th, to oversee having the wood fireplace converted to gas (to prevent renters from dragging wood into the house, forgetting to open the flue, and other wood-burning mishaps), 95% of everything we needed to get done to start leasing the house is now done!

We have contracted with a leasing company who works with people relocating to Portland for Nike, Tektronix, and other local companies. Chances are a professional couple with perhaps a child or two will lease the house… for at least a year. We were told because the house is in such good condition, we can get top dollars, and the renters will be carefully vetted.

Take a look at the before and after pictures. Here’s what we accomplished in the past few months.

Work Done Rich and Julie

  • Removed flooring downstairs and part of upstairs, pulled out staples and readied for installation of hardwood and carpeting
  • Repaired damaged flooring in two bedrooms
  • Painted two coats of Kilz on walls and floors that were damaged by cats
  • Repaired damaged dry wall and retextured the bottom of several walls, filled holes from pictures and bumps
  • Painted entire inside of house, including several coats on walls that weren’t original white
  • Removed outdoor cat run
  • Patched the exterior and interior walls where there was a kitty door
  • Removed and replaced pocket door
  • Trimmed doors throughout house so they’d fit over carpeting and wooden floors
  • Built new Formica countertops for master and downstairs bathrooms
  • Reset and plumbed bathroom sinks
  • Removed and replaced tile in master bathroom (plus, drywall work to replace where tiles were removed)
  • Replaced mirrors in upstairs bathrooms
  • Painted over-sink medicine chest in downstairs bathroom
  • Replaced toilet seat in one bathroom
  • Replaced facet in one bathroom
  • Cleaned and reinstalled toilet in downstairs bathroom after hardwood floors were installed
  • Remove old caulk from bathrooms and re-caulked
  • Replace thermostat
  • Created tile entryway by front door
  • Painted fireplace mantel another color, removed bad grouting, re-grouted, and sealed grout
  • Purchased new stove/oven, microwave, and dryer from Sears
  • Installed microwave, microwave vent, stove/oven, and refrigerator
  • Replaced kitchen sink faucet, plumbed and re-installed garbage disposal
  • Thoroughly cleaned all drawers, cupboards, closets
  • Cleaned refrigerator and painted rusted areas with appliance paint, and cleaned freezer in garage
  • Remove tile in kitchen, repaired (drywall) and painted walls
  • Tiled kitchen walls
  • Put up cove base molding in kitchen, laundry closet and downstairs bathroom
  • Re-installed washer and dryer
  • Replaced heat registers
  • Added smoke detectors
  • Replaced hinges on several doors
  • Painted and installed baseboards over carpeting
  • Re-keyed all locks (Rich had a short stint as a locksmith decades ago)
  • Replaced front door hardware
  • Replaced molding around front door, and painted both front-and-back
  • Replaced some of the electrical outlets, which were ivory instead of white
  • Washed insides of windows
  • Wiped down blinds
  • Took down and washed light fixtures and fan covers
  • Put contact paper in kitchen drawers, bathroom cupboards, etc.
  • Washed floors and other surfaces
  • Trimmed and tidied yard (very neglected), re-arranged stepping stones and pathways, divided plants, weeded
  • Spread 2.5 yards of bark dust
  • Spread .5 yards of pea gravel for pathways
  • Scrubbed patio and patio cover
  • Ordered dumpster to discard refuse such as cat run, old stove, flooring, etc.
  • Cleaned out garage
  • Made a million trips to Home Depot and Lowes for paint, tile, caulk, tools, dry wall, hardware, etc.
  • Shopped at Sears, tile and flooring stores for supplies

Work Done by Contractors

  • Installed hardwood floors in kitchen, family room, downstairs bathroom
  • Installed carpet in living room, dining from, hallways, and stairs
  • Refinished kitchen and bathroom cabinets, along with doors throughout house (amazing work!)
  • Installed composite counters in kitchen along with stainless steel sink
  • Had roof and driveway pressure washed
  • Converted wood fireplace to gas (March 12th)

Other Work Done by Julie and Rich

  • Purchased new refrigerator for Kirkland house and moved the one from Kirkland to Mount Vernon house (previously had a small bar refrigerator)
  • In early December, rented small moving van, packed furniture, and move my mother to Mount Vernon
  • Unpacked moving van, arranged Mount Vernon house to accommodate my mother’s needs, including raised toilet, supplies, food, walker, wheelchair, etc.
  • Arranged for Visiting Angels to come twice a day, and monitor weekly
  • Purchase groceries and supplies weekly, and monitor usage
  • Set up and brought my mother to doctor several times (Rich since I can get the wheelchair down the stairs in Mount Vernon)
  • Changed my mother’s medical insurance, address, arranged for paper delivery, cable TV, etc.

Invocation #20: Gratitude

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Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, O Lord, and we who are gathered here are aware we have much to be thankful for.

Not that we are in the best of health; we are not. Not that we have no anxieties or burdens to carry, we do. Not that all our days are easy and fulfilled, they are not. Nor that we do not feel a longing for days past, we do.

But we are thankful to be able to express these thoughts and understand they are but a part of the cycle of living: That we can feel alive, and look forward to days ahead, can still feel the uplift of spirit when good things come along, and above all, join in the companionship of family and friends.

We are grateful, O Lord, that we can still feel grateful.

As I’ve mentioned before, I randomly post invocations from the series my grandmother wrote for her synagogue’s senior citizens group. Often, I’m driving when it occurs to me that I haven’t published one in the past week or two.

This evening was one such occasion. Driving home, twenty days after writing a blog titled, “Reminded as to Why I Should be More Grateful,” it dawned on me that I should share another of her invocations.

I was amused to learn it dealt with gratitude! What struck me was the final statement, “grateful that we can still feel grateful.”

We experience emotions – whether positive or negative – with scarcely a thought about the miraculous capacity to have feelings. I look at my cats. They have about four emotions: Elation (usually tied to catnip), satisfaction (eating or laying in the sun), needy or grumpy. The latter two tend to dominate.

But as humans, we have a wealth of emotions that shape our lives. We have degrees of happiness and sadness. Jubilation when in love or holding a newborn. Heartbreak over a loss. Contentment after a good meal or spending time with good friends and family. We can be ambiguous or bewildered one moment and enlightened and confident the next.

Indeed, we should be grateful for the ability to feel, express, and experience the cycles of our lives.

Reminded as to Why I Should be More Grateful

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This morning, like all workdays, our alarm went off at 5:45. Rich rolled over, shutting it off, and dozing back to sleep. I willed myself awake knowing, I needed to go to the gym. I try to work out at least 4 days a week.

Half an hour later, I found myself, doing leg lifts with 90 pounds of weight. Wow! When did I go from lifting 50 to 90 pounds? Didn’t matter. There were other exercise machines to do, followed by planks, sit-ups, abdominal exercises, and finally, the dreaded Stairmaster. The only thing worse than the Stairmaster is running. At least with the latter, I can read while huffing and puffing up flights of stairs.

After the agony ended, it was time to shower, change, and zip to work. While sipping my first cup of coffee, I absentmindedly tore off the next page in my Mary Engelbreit 365-day calendar. It showed a woman opening a wooden box with a red heart inside. The quote was:

The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found in the heart.
Maryanne Williamson

I paid little attention to the saying, returning to the tasks-at-hand. Then a few minutes later, I glanced at the calendar, February 7th.

And then it dawned on me.

Six years ago, while driving to Dell on a rainy Thursday morning, I slammed on the brakes to make way for a car getting on the freeway. I should have downshifted, but was used to driving my automatic Honda and not Rich’s manual Kia. Instead of slowing, the Kia swerved and spun across two lanes of the freeway, coming to a stop when a large box truck slammed into the driver’s side of the car.

It took several minutes until I gain consciousness. By then, the driver of the truck had slipped into the passenger side of the car, and was holding my hand. A nurse who was driving to work stopped to assess my condition… and strangely, a short-time later, an off-duty paramedic showed up, followed by emergency personnel and an ambulance.

Because of two very quirky happenstances, I sustained relatively few injuries. First, the lap belt in the Kia was broken so I was only wearing a shoulder belt, which enabled my entire body, except for my left leg to be thrust into the passenger side of the car when the Kia was struck by the truck. Wrecked Kia driven by Julie Lary

Secondly, a friend at Dell had given me a super heavy black, leather coat, which I was wearing that day. The coat deflected the flying glass from the windshield, and also prevented the shoulder belt from cutting into my body.

In all, I fractured my left pelvis in four places because my left leg got caught under the driver seat while the rest of my body went the other direction. I also cracked two ribs, and had minor abrasions on the top of my head. No doubt, I was outrageously lucky.

I was immediately taken to the Brackenridge Trauma Center in downtown Austin, where my clothing was cut off, needles inserted, and body prodded. After x-rays and a CAT scan were taken, pillows placed under my left leg, and morphine administered, I wondered why they didn’t just slap a cast on my hip, and send me home.

Instead, I was admitted, given little to eat (in case I needed surgery), and told an orthopedic surgeon would see me the following day. The surgeon, Drake S. Borer with Austin Skeletal Trauma Specialists, waltzed into my room late Friday morning. A tall, trim, attractive man, he had an air of confidence and cavalry detachment.

He explained to Rich and me that “we” had two options. He could pin the pelvis, sharing he was pretty good at missing major blood vessels and nerves as he drilled and pushed a pin through my pelvis. Or I could put no weight on my left leg for eight weeks, and allow the bones to knit together. The no-surgery option, however, required that get out of bed by the next morning, balance on my right leg, and use a walker to get around.

Rich chose the latter.

I had my doubts. As the morphine wore off, and I switched to hydrocodone every four to six hours, I realized every aspect of my body was connected to my pelvis, and the slightest movement caused surges of pain. Moving my left leg even a fraction of in inch caused blinding pain, not to mention the agony of sitting up.

Wrecked Kia_2My broken ribs added to the misery, making it painful to lift my arms, let alone pick up anything or use them to move my body. Nevertheless, Saturday morning, I was eased out of bed, my catheter removed, and a belt placed around by waist by two physical therapists, who then proceeded to help me onto my right leg.

I thought I was going to pass out, but managed to grasp a walker, hop on one leg out of the room, into the hallway, and then back to the bed.

Sunday morning, I walked a bit further, and by that evening, I was wheeled over to a rehabilitation center to start a week of intensive physical therapy. By the time I left, I could get in-and-out of the bed by myself and into a wheelchair, race down the hallways in my chair, dress myself, tend to my personal needs, and even use the walker, but for short jaunts. It would take weeks before I could go any distance using a walker, mainly because holding up my left leg, using muscles attached to my fractured pelvis was astonishingly painful.

Eight weeks after my accident, I was cleared to start putting weight on my left leg. I visualized immediately walking.

Even though I’d spent the prior few weeks doing physical therapy in a pool in preparation to walk, my first few steps were horrifically painful, and I immediately plopped down in my wheelchair.

While Dr. Borer had mentioned the first year after my accident would be painful with the pain decreasing every year after; and by the third year, I’d be nearly healed; he neglected to mention two little words, “leg cramps.”

Yes, leg cramps. Like CONSTANT leg cramps. Like horrific leg cramps that wake up from a sound sleep if you happen to flex your foot. And he also didn’t mention it would be at least six months before I could lie on my side for more than 30 seconds. I slept on my back with my hips flat on the mattress for close to a year. Rolling over was painful and not worth the effort. It was even uncomfortable to lie on my right hip because my left hip wasn’t being supporting. Wrecked Kia_3

When I moved to Washington in late June, a few months after the accident, to accept a position with Microsoft, I made a point to walk as much as possible. Until we purchased a house in Kirkland, I lived an apartment, which was a mile from Microsoft so I could easily walk to-and-from work. And on weekends, I took long walks or visited area parks to build up strength and mobility.

Many of my walks ended in tears with my hip hurting, leg cramped, and exhausted from the exertion.

There was no denying the first year was challenging. Year two was much better, and by year three, I nearly forgot about the injury, except for the occasional leg cramp in the middle of the night!

And today, I’m whining about twenty-minutes on a Stairmaster, oblivious to the fact six years earlier I couldn’t wiggle a toe or shift in the bed without wincing in pain, and the only relief was a beautiful, white hydrocodone pill.

I had a remarkable recovery, considering what happened. I need to be more grateful for the opportunity to not only be able to walk, but hike, bike, kayak, gardening, torment Rich, and yes, work up a sweat at the gym.

Invocation #19: Power Outrage

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It was six o’clock and 104of an early September day, and we were settled down watching the TV news. All was comfortable and serene.

Then just like that, without warning, the TV went black; the hum of the air conditioner ceased, clocks stopped, and appliances froze.

We were stunned. A power outage. How terrible. Food in the refrigerator and the freezer. What should we do? Panic started setting in.

Then slowly it occurred to us. Get out the candles, the matches, and the oil lamp. Sit down Don’t waste energy in useless handwringing. There was nothing we could do. It was out of our control. Relax. Wait it out.

We know, O Lord, it is inevitable that at any time we could be faced with upsets, emergencies, tragedies, minor, and heaven forbid, major. And prepared as we could be, we will still be unprepared.

Whenever that happens, O Lord, help us not to panic; to be unafraid. To stay calm and collected so we may do what has to be done. Help us to think positive thoughts, and have faith in our ability to cope.

And let us remember O Lord, that as dark as is the night, the sun will rise tomorrow.

I’m flabbergasted. This evening, I thought to post another of my grandmother’s invocations… a day after the power outage during Super Bowl XLVII between the Baltimore Ravens and San Francisco 49ers. A major glitch was blamed for the electrical belch.

No doubt, an overloaded power grid, during a scorching summer day in Burbank, California, caused the clocks to stop, appliances to freeze, and beloved air conditioner to cease in my grandparent’s house.

While people watching the Super Bowl expressed disappointment, confusion, amusement, and perhaps wonderment as to whether the game would be postponed or rescheduled, several spectators at the New Orleans Superdome, where the game was being played, were initially afraid. They wondered if the lights going out was a precursor to a terrorist attack.

The day after the Super Bowl, 30-minutes of darkness is little more than water cooler chit-chat. We can only hope that if it had been something more ominous, the authorities would have been prepared, and we wouldn’t have experienced the horror, which occurred on an early September morning, eleven years ago.

Life Happens

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People often describe their life as a whirlwind. For the past month, Rich’s and mine have been a whirlwind on caffeine. It started Thanksgiving weekend after visiting my mother in Sherwood, Oregon, (southwest of Portland). In the past, Rich and I had talked about moving her to our house in Mount Vernon. Seeing her health and outlook on life wasn’t improving and frustrated with our inability to easily gauge her health, and subsequently care, we decided to proceed with moving her to Washington.

Thanksgiving Weekend

A few months earlier, after several concerning calls from my mother’s caregivers, we were going to admit her to skilled nursing center. However, we changed our minds after the root of the issue was determined. While she was left food in the evening to eat, she was feeding it to Cyrano (an increasingly obese rat terrier) or throwing it away. As a result, she was eating only a few hundred calories per day, and growing increasingly weak and disoriented.

The solution was to more closely monitor her eating; although, she continued to slip Cyrano food. For instance, one caregiver related heating up two mini hamburgers for my mother to eat. She then went outside to sweep the porch, but watched my mother feed Cyrano the meat. When she went inside, my mother said the meat was delicious, but couldn’t possibly finish the hamburger buns.

This type of behavior went on for months. By Thanksgiving, Rich and I knew we had to do something. For the rest of the weekend, we discussed what we needed to do. In-between, we enjoyed camping in our motor home (with three cats) at Battleground Lake, and Millersylvania State Park. It was going to be our last weekend for a while when we could focus just on ourselves.

Refrigerator Shuffle

The first weekend of December, we decided to purchase a full-size refrigerator for the Mount Vernon house. Since we’d bought the house, seven years earlier, we’d made-do with an itty-bitty bar refrigerator, which holds a few days of food, some condiments, cans of soda, dried up apple, we’d neglected to eat, and a bag of year-old Christmas cookies.

If my mother was going to live in the house, she’d need a larger refrigerator, in particular, one with a freezer for frozen foods. She’s barely cooked for years. And now typically eats frozen waffles, various TV dinners, canned soups, a few fresh vegetables, and an unimaginable amount of Oreos, chocolate, cakes, and cookies. I suspect most of her calories are in the form of sugar.

Saturday morning, we journeyed to the Sears in Mount Vernon and found a nice stainless steel refrigerator. However, it couldn’t be delivered until mid-January… unless we were willing to purchase the floor model and deliver it ourselves.

We had a trailer so we could move the refrigerator, but it occurred to us that we should bring the new refrigerator to our Kirkland house, and move the older refrigerator to Mount Vernon.

We rushed back to our Mount Vernon house, attached the trailer to Rich’s truck, and zoomed back to Sear’s. An hour later, after Rich draped the refrigerator in three drop cloths, and restrained it from every angle with a dozen or more straps; we were on the road to Kirkland.

As Rich freed the refrigerator in the trailer, I unloaded the one in the house. We then used a dolly to wheel the new refrigerator across the lawn, through the backyard, across the deck, and up a handful of steps, through the French doors, and into the kitchen.

I then helped Rich wheel the old refrigerator out of the house. While he secured it in the trailer, I quickly put our food into the new refrigerator and freezer, and made two sandwiches to eat in the road.

By the time we got back to Mount Vernon, it was rainy so we opted to unload the old refrigerator the next day, and spend the rest of the day getting the house ready for my mother. We removed the furniture from the guest bedroom (except for the bed), cleaning out the drawers in the bathroom, re-arranging the closets to accommodate her clothes, linens, etc. and planned how we could install a small dog run for Cyrano with a magnetic pet door.

Sunday morning, while having breakfast at Denny’s, Rich read the instruction manual for our new refrigerator and panicked when he realized that it may have been plugged in, but could still be in demo mode with the lights on, but nothing running!

Fearful our frozen food was turning to mush, and refrigerated food spoiling, we hopped into the car, and drove to Kirkland. An hour later, we discovered the refrigerator had been turned on. Grumble.

Back in Mount Vernon, we surveyed what it would take to get the old refrigerator up a half flight of stairs to the front door and up another half flight into the kitchen. The only option was to take it apart. Rich removed the shelves and drawers, along with the heavy freezer and refrigerator doors.

I was in charge of cleaning. It’s amazing how much gunk can accumulate even if you regularly scrub and clean!

Even with the refrigerator dismantled, it was challenging to pull it up the stairs. Once in place, and put back together, it was exciting to have a full-sized refrigerator, and know we didn’t have to skimp on purchasing and bringing perishable foods to Mount Vernon. In the past, we supplemented the limited capacity of the bar refrigerator with large ice chests.

Tired, but satisfied with our efforts, we drove back to Kirkland, to do some laundry and get ready for the work week!

The Big Move

The first Saturday in December, we got up hours before the roosters crow, had a quick breakfast at McDonald’s, and then drove to Oregon. Our first stop was to pick up a small U-Haul truck, which we’d reserved the week before. Rich loves to drive trucks so I could sense his excitement!

We’d already scoped out the furniture and “stuff” we planned to take from my mother’s house. While I packed up canned and packaged foods, dishes, pots, and cooking utensils, and surveyed what was in her freezer, Rich worked in the garage.

My brother showed up for two hours, which speed up cleaning out the garage, and moving my mother’s bedroom furniture (sans her bed) into the moving truck. I then transitioned to packing linens, clothes, toiletries, pictures, and collectibles.

We took a break for lunch, and then continued until early evening. My mother’s favorite caregiver from Visiting Angels kept her comfortable during the turmoil of packing up her house.

Having eaten a large lunch at McMenamins Sherwood, where we’d met nearly 12 years ago, we grabbed a cup of coffee at 7Eleven for dinner, and then drove to Target, Costco, and Wal-Mart to find a specific walker (we later purchased it online). Our goal was to “waste” time before heading to Camas, Washington to see Rich’s new grandson, Coen Lavelle Lary.

He was barely two weeks old, and after losing weight, due to jaundice, was back up to his birth weight of 7 pounds. Rich held him for over an hour, while I marveled at his full head of black hair, long delicate fingers, and Norman Rockwell-perfect face.

We slide into bed around after 11 o’clock, waking up early the next morning to finish loading the last few items into the U-Haul, get my mother ready, and then start the long drive to Mount Vernon. Rich drove the truck with Cyrano in the front seat. I drove Rich’s Honda Insight with my mother and her two cats, secured in two kitty carriers.

About ten minutes into Washington, Rich called me on his cell phone, and asked if we could keep Cyrano. Wow! That didn’t take long for his feline addiction to move to the right, to a lesser specie, a canine! Of course, I said “Yes.”

Meanwhile, it never stopped raining. The sky never lightened. The road was never dry. We couldn’t have fathomed a drearier day for a lengthy, thoroughly challenging drive… at least for me!

My mother’s short-term memory is about 30 seconds. She asked the same questions, lamented the same issues, and expressed the same anger and observations over-and-over again. Every hour, it grew worse with her convinced her cats were suffering, and that we were moments from our destination.

It took over 4.5 hours to reach Kirkland, having stopped once at Burger King for a late lunch. Because my mother can barely walk, we had to convince her to use the wheelchair, which created the challenge of getting her out of the car, onto the chair, wheeling her into the restaurant, getting her into the bathroom, getting her back outside, and into the car, etc.

And of course, the entire time, the rain never stopped!

Because we planned to be away for another few days, we stopped for twenty minutes at our Kirkland house to feed our cats, empty their kitty litter boxes, and collect the mail.

By the time, we reached Mount Vernon it was dark, cold, and still raining. We got my mother into the wheelchair, and “pulled” her up the front steps of the house, and then up half a flight to main floor. After locking up her cats, we proceeded to unload the U-Haul and set up her bed, dresser, and night stand.

While I unpacked, Rich frequented KFC. We ate more fast food in December than the prior three months!

As a whim, I decided to sort through my mother’s drawers. For the past few years, she’s been hiding food in the drawers so many were full of crumbs, along with greeting cards, articles snipped from publications and newspapers, and other tasty morsels, appealing to silverfish, spiders, and other varmints. In addition, the clothes in many of the drawers were a jumble of socks, tee shirts, sweaters, etc.

While sorting, organizing, and wiping out the drawers, I found over $2,000 in cash. Almost every drawer contained a neatly folded stake of bills!

The next morning, Monday, December 10th, we finished cleaning out the U-Haul and dropped it off at a furniture store in Mount Vernon. We went grocery shopped so my mother had food for the rest of the week, and then meet with the local coordinator for Visiting Angels.

We continued to unpack, hang pictures, and other miscellaneous tasks to get my mother settled, before returning to Kirkland.

Recuperate and Revelations

Instead of going to Mount Vernon on December 14th, as we customarily do on Friday evenings, we opted to stay in Kirkland. When we arrived in Mount Vernon, early Saturday afternoon, my mother was happy to see Cyrano, but was extremely confused, saying she’d lived in Mount Vernon for months, and prior lived in Tarzana, California. Her memory of Sherwood and life in Oregon seemed non-existent.

The reports we received from the Visiting Angels, from the prior four days, wasn’t good. She was angry, confused, and perpetually asking for poison or a knife to slit her wrist.

Her mood improved after eating, and especially after watching movies that evening. Sunday she seemed better, but was still confused thinking we’d had Cyrano for years (and not days) and that she’d been imprisoned in Mount Vernon for weeks.

Unexpected Help

Since I had Monday, December 24th off, we decided to go back to Sherwood to start tackling the refurbishing of my mother’s house. Unfortunately, Rich had gotten the flu a few days earlier. While still very sick (he had a 103-degree temperature a day earlier), he was determined to make the trip.

As we were preparing to go to bed on Friday night, December 21st, my mother called, screaming, yelling profanities, and claiming we’d dumped her in Mount Vernon, and destroyed her house. She ended the call by calling Rich and I, “Fuckers. Fuckers!”

Gotta’ love dementia!

We both slept fitfully, Rich being still very sick and me disturbed by my mother’s call. Nevertheless, we got up a little later than usual and drove the 3.5 hours to Oregon. We’d expected to find my mother’s house as we’d left it, full of furniture, kitchen and bathroom drawers packed with “stuff,” cupboards half empty, food still in the refrigerator and freezer, everything disheveled as if “someone” had quickly packed what would fit in a small U-Haul. However, when we turned the key in the door, and walked inside, we saw NOTHING. Everything, except for some cleaning supplies was gone. The floors swept. Closets and drawers cleaned out. All the food was gone. Counters wiped.

We also noticed the dryer was gone, but the washer, which was only a few months old, was still there. I immediately called my brother who said he took the dryer (claiming he thought it was a “free-for-all”), several pieces of furniture, and the food in the refrigerator and freezers.

“What happened to everything else,” I inquired.

Evidentially, Deena, a woman who originally met my mother when she was hired to clean her house, and later did a phenomenal job of overseeing my mother’s care and working with the Visiting Angles, had contacted a dozen or so local agencies, who subsequently came and took my mother’s furnishing. Deena then cleaned the entire house, including tossing out the food my brother hadn’t taken.

Even though, it was startling to see EVERYTHING in my mother’s house gone, it enabled us to immediately dive into fixing it up.

Before we began, however, I called Deena and her husband Bruce. In the past, Bruce had helped around my mother’s house, including taking her to doctor’s appointments.

We zipped over to Deena’s and Bruce’s house to borrow back a ladder, step stool, and other items we’d need to do home repairs and additional cleaning. I was thrilled to see her house. She has an amazing collection of Campbell Kids memorabilia and had been using my mother’s sewing machine to sew quilts and pillows. On her walls were needlepoints my mother had made.

It was gratifying to see some of my mother’s items in her house, and to express our appreciation for the work she’d done, not only monitoring my mother’s care, but ensuring her furnishing went to places where they’d be appreciated.

For the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday, Rich and I rolled up our sleeves, or more accurately, pulled on coveralls, and started cleaning, painting, ripping out (cat run), and assessing what needed to be done.

When we left the house on Monday morning, Rich was pleased with our progress. I felt overwhelmed.

We then stopped by Rich’s son’s house to see Coen, who was much bigger, much happier, and much more of a handful than a few weeks earlier. He’s so CUTE, but teeny at around 8 pounds. It was great to see him and his parents for an hour or two, before heading back up north.

End-of-Year Push

We made good time back to Kirkland, but stayed just long enough to care for our cats, toss our dirty clothes in the laundry, and grab items I’d need for cooking. We got to Mount Vernon late in the afternoon, but before settling down, we made a trip to the grocery store for items we needed.

When we got back, I made a pumpkin/yam pie out of a mini pumpkin I’d had since Thanksgiving. I now realize the inside of a pumpkin dries up even though the outside remains the same. Fortunately, I had enough yams to supplement, along with the all-important Cool-Whip for serving.

Dinner for Rich and I was Taco Bell. Tasty, fast, and satisfying. Rich then collapsed in a heap, still sick with a flu/cold.

Christmas morning, I started a sauce with plenty of onions, garlic, celery, ground turkey pork, and spicy sausage, and cans of tomatoes. I then went outside to work in our garden, weeding and trimming, while migratory trumpeter swans flew overhead, honked as they passed. The swans arrive in late November, and stay through February.

When I went back inside to make my mother breakfast, she started harping on how “everyone” had mistreated her, and my father wasn’t loving enough. He worked 6-days a week overseeing his garment factory in downtown Los Angeles, never smoke, drank or lounged in front of the TV, watching sports, but evidentially he wasn’t affectionate enough for my stay-at-home mother. She was only married for 13 years. When I was nine, and my brother was eleven, my father had a fatal heart attack, leaving her a wealthy widow. She regularly crowed about killing off her husband.

I totally lost it, spewing out how she wasn’t a loving person. She boosted how she’d send her kids to school when they were sick. When in my early twenties, I got mononucleosis and was running a 105-degrees, she refused to drive me to a hematologist across town because of the traffic. I had to find a friend.

On a daily basis, she chastised her kids, expecting them to cater to her needs and do the chores that were beneath her… from cleaning house to cooking, yard work, and going places with her… week-after-week-after-week.

Because she didn’t want to make my brother a “mama’s boy,” he was given significantly more freedom to hang out with friends, do homework, and skirt daily chores. I, on the other hand, was told I was going to get married, have kids, and build a mother-in-law apartment. Therefore, there was no need for me to do well in school. Instead of doing homework, I was expected to cook, clean, and spend every evening keeping her company, doing needlework and sewing.

My long suppressed outburst may have been the first time my mother got a true insight into her shortfalls, selfishness, and extreme narcissism. It rolled off her like water on a duck’s back. She claimed that she was stand-offish at my wedding, and didn’t toast us because my mother-in-law and Rich’s children “took over.” It was beyond her how humiliating it was when only three people toasted us: Rich’s mother, and his two children.

Not my mother. Not my brother. And not my brother’s girlfriend.

Growing up, she claimed that she prevented me from dating and spending time with friends to “protect me.” From what I wondered? Having my own life? As a child, she didn’t want me to leave the house – and I certainly couldn’t have friends over to the house – because she didn’t want to worry about where I was. It was easier for her to keep me busy with chores, lonely and extremely depressed at home.

After releasing years of anger, I stormed outside to continue pulling weeds, and digging up alien plants. Rich, of course, was furious at me for not holding my tongue. He said it would have been okay to scream at her if it had the ability to change a thoroughly dreadful childhood and adulthood. But, it didn’t.

After cooling off, I went inside and finished making two large casseroles of lasagna, using the sauce, which had been cooking for hours. We ate the lasagna later that afternoon. I left some for my mother and took the rest home.

I was happy to get back to Kirkland that evening, in a house filled with the things I love… Rich, bratty cats, artwork, collectibles, etc.

Wednesday and Thursday, I happily worked half-days from home! Thursday afternoon, after sending my last email, we loaded up Rich’s truck, tossed Cyrano in the back seat, and headed back down to Portland for a final “push” to work on my mother’s house.

On Friday morning, while I worked from a Motel 6 in Tualatin, Oregon, Rich met with two cabinet refinishing companies. In-between, he tore up flooring and deposited it in a dumpster he’d ordered earlier in the week. His goal was for us to put everything in the dumpster that needed to be tossed so we wouldn’t have to deal with it later. We ended up barely covered the bottom of the dumpster with flooring, baseboards, scrap wood and fencing, a sofa, wooden cabinet, stove/oven, kitchen countertop, tile, and miscellaneous trash.

In the two and a half days we worked on the house, we accomplished:

  • Removing the damaged oak laminate flooring, padding, and staples (will replace with real hardwood and carpeting)
  • Removing the kitchen counters and ordering snazzy solid surface counters to be installed in February, along with a built-in, stainless steel sink
  • Removing tile backsplashes in kitchen and repairing walls
  • Taking down the cat run and placing parts in dumpster, and starting to repair interior and exterior walls where there was a doggie door
  • Getting quotes to refinish kitchen and bathroom cabinets, and also sanding some woodwork damaged by cats
  • Pulling out the range/oven, and in the process, shattering the oven door (very dramatic and unexpected outcome)
  • Purchasing large tiles, which Rich will install by the front door.
  • Removing baseboards
  • Painting Kilz on floors and walls, which had been“perfumed” by cats
  • Painting most of the upstairs, except a bathroom, and two large walls in the master bedroom
  • Painting most of the downstairs, except the super high “challenging” wall in the living room, going up the stairs, and one bathroom

Because we were determined to get done as much as possible, we grabbed meals on the run, and on both Saturday and Sunday nights, we found ourselves at a Safeway at 8 o’clock, buying packaged salads, sandwiches, and drinks. After all, we’re a classy couple, eating our dinners with plastic forks, while watching TV at a Motel 6…next door to Stars Cabaret.

Sunday afternoon, we locked up the house, happy with our progress, and headed back to Kirkland. The weather was splendid so it was an enjoyable drive with no rain, and all sunshine.

Memorable Start to New Year

On Monday afternoon, the last day of 2012, we drove up to Mount Vernon. My mother was in good spirits, and pleased to see Cyrano, Rich and Lila.

After shopping for the things my mother needed, I made puttanesca. Even though it was super spicy, my mother kept asking for another helping. Rich and I were aghast at how much she ate!

Afterwards, we watched two movies, and could see fireworks in the distance over Burlington. We went to bed, however, a bit before midnight, marking the start of 2013 with our eyes shut.

New Year’s day was splendid. Cold and clear with trumpeter swans overhead, punctuating panoramas of snow-capped mountains. I made a filling breakfast for everyone and made sure my mother had warm clothing, and sensible shoes. She tends to wear moccasins, which don’t provide the support she needs for walking.

Rich eased her down the stairs in her wheelchair, and helped her into the car. It was the first time my mother had been outside since she’d moved to Mount Vernon, and the second trip of any distance that she’s taken in at least 12 months. The longest trip prior was Thanksgiving 2011.

We initially headed northeast to Sedro-Woolly, a small town steeped in lumbering. We then headed west through Burlington, and then Bay View, a cute town on the Puget Sound with a lovely state park where we camped several years ago. Along the way, we pass through farmlands, saw flocks of trumpeter swans, and enjoyed the gorgeous weather.

Continuing west, we crossed the bridge to Fidalgo Island, stopping in Anacortes for peppermint hot chocolate, before driving through Washington Park, and up the steep road to the summit of Mount Erie, the highest point on the island.

While in Anacortes, we stopped to visit our lot, which we plan to build on in another few years. Yes, I know we keeping say this, but we’ve started working with an architect to draw the plans for a three-story, contemporary house with several decks, and large windows for views of the Puget Sound, Mount Baker, and the refineries on March Point. We’re both excited about the prospect of building and moving into the house!

On the way back to Mount Vernon, we stopped at Burger King for hamburgers (veggie burger for me) and fries. While very particular about what she eats, and steeped in the need to always eat healthy foods, my mother has always loved fast food hamburgers.

It was a great start and unexpected start to the New Year… thanks to the weather and Rich’s patience in working with my mother.

In the coming weeks, Rich and I will be returning to Oregon to finish working on my mother’s house. Last weekend, we ordered a new range, and microwave/fan at Sear’s, and have chosen the wooden floors we’ll have installed. This weekend, we’ll pick-out Formica, which Rich will install in two of the bathrooms.

Last week, Rich hired a company to clean the roof and gutter. In early February, kitchen counters will be installed, and the cabinets refinished. There are also lots of small tasks like installing a new fire alarm, door stops, painting the fireplace another color, installed tile backsplashes in the bathroom and above the range, painting and installing new base boards, and and final cleaning of the blinds, light fixtures, and floors.

We’re feeling somewhat optimistic that we’ll be able to start leasing the house in early March!

Invocation #18: Needle Pricks of Memory

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Sometimes from out of the blue, a thought flashes across our mind: An unwelcomed remembrance from the past.

Something we had said, or done, or not done, something that caused pain to someone else. And our heart becomes filled with regret and remorse.

It only we hadn’t said it, or done it; or done what we didn’t do. If only we could erase the pain we had caused; not by deliberate intent, but thoughtlessness or in the heat of a moment.

Yes we know, O Lord that in your scheme of things there is no going back; there is no undoing; no unsaying; no erasing. That what was still is.

So be it. We will accept the pain of regret, the sting of remorse. But we will not inflict the burden of guilt upon ourselves.

For it was not with malice aforethought that we committed our offenses and it should not be with malice upon ourselves that we do repentance.

O Lord, let it so be.

While my grandmother writes about the regret and remorse of saying something that caused pain. The angst is the same for words that were never spoken. I deeply regret I never said “I love you” to my grandmother. I nonchalantly jotted it down at the end of note or bottom of a card, but never spoke the words.

Conversions were ended with “thanks for calling,” “see you soon,” and “have a good week.”

It’s interesting; therefore, that this invocation, written by grandmother, focuses on what was spoken rather than the unspoken. The word and concept of “love” was eluded in my family. Until I married, it rarely escaped my lips.

Instead, directives, opinions and critiques were spoken, many petty and disparaging. Offering another point-of-view or rebuttal was seen as an attack, rather than a reasonable response. While my grandmother never spoke with malice, and was exceedingly loving, caring, and gracious, her critiques, especially of my error-riddled written school papers, often hurt.

Every Saturday, she’d visit and take a red pen to my school work. Sometimes, it was hard to find my work beneath the pools of red corrections!

While there’s “no undoing, no unsaying, and no erasing,” recognizing and reflecting on the “needle pricks of memory” is a first step in thinking before speaking. And in a sense, sometimes it is okay to say what shouldn’t be said. After all, my grandmother’s criticism of my writing, resulting in my becoming a better, more confident writer. Although, I still cringe when I see a red pen.

Much to Be Thankful For

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Thanksgiving is always the most stressful time of the year for me. Wanting to mimic “Martha Stewart style,” I always attempt to do too much in too short of time. This year was no exception; although, I firmly decided not to create an ornate annual holiday letter, to be included with holidays cards, which I would then write a personal note in each, affix a printed label, and send by the first week of December.

Instead, I spent the time scrambling to bake 12 batches cookies 10 types of candies… purchase and wrap gifts for people I’d be seeing at Thanksgiving, make a couple of side dishes for the holiday dinner, and figure out what to bring for the two days we planned to camp in our motor home.

My plan for the latter was 50% success with my baking a ham and bringing what was left in the refrigerator. I pack a variety of vegetables to make salads, but forgot the dressing. Brussels sprouts and cauliflower made it into the motor home, but not margarine. The potatoes and bacon we brought for breakfast lacked eggs. And while I managed to pack five trays of cookies to give away, the only baked goods that managed to find their way into the motor home was a sad, small container of reject cookies and candy we’d been nibbling on since we baked a few weeks prior.

We did have plenty of peppermint mocha creamer and coffee… which in retrospect was essential for camping in the damp, rainy Pacific Northwest!

Prior to slurping peppermint-infused coffee while meandering on forested trails, we left Kirkland at 4:45 on Thanksgiving morning. The three cats we took, Lila, Zephyra, and Jujube, alternated between sleeping on Rich’s and my laps, and lounging on the bed over the cab. Safely stowed under pillows on the bed in the back were the cookies, candies, and gifts. This year, we made:

  • Chocolate chip (made with peppermint chips)
  • Chocolate with peanut butter chips
  • Oatmeal with butterscotch chips
  • Oatmeal with white chocolate chips and dried strawberries
  • Exotic spice (made with cardamom, ginger, ground pepper, and other spices, plus rose water)
  • Peanut butter thumbprint with jelly (some were filled with melted chocolate chips)
  • Sugar
  • Cappuccino thins
  • Ginger coins
  • Peppermint slices (white dough, rolled in crushed candy canes… a last minute inspiration)
  • Biscotti with almonds
  • Biscotti with dried mango (very tasty)
  • Seven layer bars
  • Fudge with cashew
  • Fudge with dried cherries
  • Rum balls
  • Coconut macaroons
  • Peanut brittle
  • Mint bark
  • Tillamook toffee (like Almond Roca)
  • Cappuccino caramels
  • Candied orange, grapefruit, and lemon peels (hands down the best thing I made this year)

We arrived in Camas, Washington (the Columbia River away from Portland, Oregon) around 9 a.m. for the start of an AMAZING Thanksgiving at Rich’s son’s (Chris) house.

Shawnie, Chris’ wife, was expecting their first child in early December. Stacey, Rich’s daughter was visiting from Long Beach, California. Chris’ and Stacey’s mother, June, was visiting from Hawaii. Their sister Casey along with her husband Bryan, was visiting from Colorado. And later in the afternoon, Shawnie’s parents, and two brothers arrived.

Throughout the day, people cooking the holiday meal, nibbled on appetizers and my cookies, caught up on news, and of course, discussed politics. We enjoyed turkey roasted in a propane cooker, ham, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, paella, cranberry jello salad, cranberry relished (prepared with ginger ale), poke (amazing ahi tuna June shipped overnight from Hawaii), sautéed greens with nuts and cranberries, red cabbage salad with apples, gravy… green beans with almonds, and dressing.

For dessert there were several pies, and a pumpkin upside-down cake.

After a very filling meal, we sat in the living room, talking, giggled, and looked at pictures of Shawnie’s ultrasound.


Late breaking new!

Today, Wednesday, November 28th, at 3:30 pm, Chris and Shawnie had Coen Lavelle Lary. He was 7 pounds, 4 ounces with a full-head of black hair. Rich is a grandfather. Please refer to him as “Gramp” from this day forth!


After sleeping in the motor home, parked on the street, we had a traditional Hawaiian breakfast at Chris and Shawnie’s house, consisting of rice, fried eggs, and sausage… and of course, cups of coffee.

I’m very lucky to not only have married Rich, but married into a fabulous, fun family! Stay tuned for more about our Thanksgiving trip.

Ambling back to the U.S.

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(Continuation from “Bus Ride to Remember, Mural, and Painting with the Sun”)

After a delightful day at Thetis Island, we headed to Prince Margaret Marine Park off Portland Island. North of Sidney on Vancouver Island, Portland Island was presented to Princess Margaret of the United Kingdom in 1958 to commemorate her visit to British Columbia.

It’s estimated that Coast Salish natives lived on the island 3,000 years ago, as evidenced by several kitchen middens, heaps of crushed clamshells and other artifacts. The beaches resemble what you’d see on a tropical island, stretches of bright white, finely crushed shells. Interlaced with rocky areas, some covered with layers of sharp barnacles, and others stripped bare by the pounding waves.

The middens are classified as archeological sites, and are therefore protected under British Columbia law. It felt a bit strange to travel to the pristine island in Tug Time ─ equipped with a snazzy galley, featuring a propane stove and oven, microwave, double sink, wine coolers, and teak cupboards and drawers ─ and then walk in a “kitchen,” consisting of little more than well-worn rocks and piles of smashed shells.

While hiking along the forested trails of Princess Margaret Island, we spied several raccoons below, foraging along the shore for tasty morsels. One young raccoon nervously looked around, while snatching a small crab, clam, other crustacean.

We spent the night on a mooring ball off Princess Margaret Island, going through our usual food routine of wine with cheese and crackers as the sun started to set, followed by dinner, reading and nibbling on cookies until it was time to retire to the forward berth to watch a movie on the built-in entertainment system.

For this trip, we brought:

  • Two bottles of wine
  • Two boxes of Triscuits with assortment of cheeses
  • Sourdough bread for dipping in olive oil and fresh ground peppers
  • Two boxes of Zatteran Jambalaya mix, augmented with spicy sausage, chopped onions, and green peppers
  • Salmon for barbequing
  • Zucchini and cucumbers from our garden… sliced and eaten raw
  • Dave’s Bread for Rich, and cheese pumpkin seed bread from a Chemanis bakery for me
  • Ham and turkey for sandwiches with sliced tomatoes
  • Burritos (made one evening, and then eaten cold for lunches and dinners) made from pork, green sauce, chilies, jalapeno refried beans, onions, and peppers
  • Fruit and chips (Rich can’t eat a sandwich unless he has chips)
  • Candy, dried fruit and nuts, granola bars, and cookies (from last Christmas)
  • Cereal for breakfast with hard boiled eggs

The only food we bought was coffee from Pot of Gold Roasting Company on Thetis Island (because Rich brought tasteless Folgers coffee), can of refried beans, six ice creams bars from various marinas, and cups steaming coffee.

Perfect Day Once Again in Deer Harbor

Early Wednesday morning, we checked into customs at Roche Harbor. While we waited for the mist to clear before heading back into the Sound, we sipped coffee and watched people coming-and-going… primarily boaters like ourselves and people staying at the many resorts in the area.

Roche Harbor is one of my favorite towns; it’s gorgeous with beautifully restored buildings, cobblestone walkways, gardens, and planter boxes, overflowing with flowers, boutique shops, and quaint restaurants, inns, and houses. It also has a sizable marina with many impressive yachts. It’s the Huntington Beach of the Puget Sound.

After leaving Roche Harbor, we visited Jones Island, which wasn’t overly remarkable. We tied up to the dock and hiked to the top of the island, observing a troupe of porpoises in the waters below.

Our next stop was Deer Island, which is a short distance from Roche Harbor, but diametrically opposite in demeanor. It’s a charming marina with a well-stocked store, nice showers and restrooms (if you boat, you’d understand the allure of nice showers), a couple of low-key inns, and lovely walking paths along the water.

After securing Tug Time in a slip, we enjoyed giant cones of scrumptious local ice cream, while wandering around the docks. There was a silly pseudo junk, painted with saying and pictures, TV at the tiller and spinning sail at the top. The boat resembled a family project. Check out the pictures in the gallery.

The evening couldn’t have been more perfect with a sliver of a moon in a jet black sky, lights from the walkways reflecting on the water, and a restored, older sailboat with a giant light on the top, which shone down on boat and neighboring boats. Earlier in the day, we spoke with the owner of the boat. They live on the boat in a marina near Seattle.

The next day, we reluctantly left Deer Harbor, and spent several hours driving to Anacortes. It was the first time we’d visited Anacortes by water, rather than bike or car.

There’s a Nordic Tug dealer in Anacortes so Rich wanted to go aboard several of their boats. From the outside, Nordic Tugs are sharp-looking boats with pointed fronts, curved windows, impressive smoke stacks, and plenty of room to walk around the deck.

The insides, however, were disappointing. You have to walk up a couple of stairs to get to where you steer the boat (pilot house), and then walk down several steps into the forward berth. Several times, Rich bumped his head. Evidentially, a 34-foot Nordic Tug isn’t as tall inside as a 29-foot Ranger Tug!

Plus, the bed is smaller and v-shaped. Rich barely fit. And if I was in the bed with him, I’d need to sleep in a little ball because there wouldn’t be room for me to stretch out. After we got back to Bellingham, we bumped into a man who’d chartered a Nordic Tug, and without being coaxed, commented the bed would be too small for someone of Rich’s height.

The last night of our charter was spent at Chuckanut Bay, south of Bellingham. We’ve stayed at Chuckanut several times because it’s like being part of a giant diorama with houses nestled in the hills between the turning trees with trains whistling along the water’s edge. Within minutes of our anchoring, a lengthy train started across the trestle, maybe a quarter mile way, clicking-and-clacking and adding to the magic of the moment.

Across the bay, a Coast Guard vessel had anchored, perhaps a training exercise. They spent the night, their lights, like those on a luxury vessel, sprayed across the rippling water, adding to the moonlight. It was a perfect ending to a wonderful trip.

Even better, we immediately put a deposit down on Tug Time, to charter her again next September.

The Chatterbox

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With your kind indulgence, I will precede to opinionate about life and its living.

RoseI will assume that man, the individual, made up of two halves of a whole: One half the physical self, the other the intellect. And what connects one to the other and makes them function are words. And when it comes to words the mind is a regular chatterbox. Unless it suffered some debilitating trauma the mind never quiets.

Tune in at any time, night or day, its airwaves are crackling with commands, questions, random thoughts, jingles, anything, but silence. Even when it tires, it won’t relent. It becomes aware of its attempt to slow down, and instructs itself – in words – to resume its chattering, pondering, visualizing, and dreaming.

Rose Ridnor
December 23, 1993