More memories

Yesterday after work (where I yawned 72 times in 5 hours) I picked up the high school boys, dropped Jon off (hi Jon), got changed into track pants, then let Max drive to the elementary school to pick up Drew. I would be a better driving instructor if I was drunk. We were only halfway to my parent's place when I was fighting back tears because both of them were picking on me for my inability to relax my braking foot. And because I kept leaning to the left, trying to physically move the truck off the shoulder by readjusting my weight on the passenger side.
Maybe if I try real heard I'll learn to like the tast of liquor.

We met my sister and her kids at the farm where we loaded up mom's computer and important office papers as well as all the food, pots, dishes and decorations for the new kitchen.


We met Clint and Daryl, who brought over the Costco-ready-to-be-assembled-by-a-university-graduate-owning-17-power-tools furniture at the new house and spent the rest of the evening setting things up.

Jul brought supper, so we ate our first homecooked me in the den. On the floor.

During the evening I zipped a grumpy Drew to volleyball, then against my better judgement, picked him up again afterwards and brought him back. By 9:30 we were pooched. I dropped my truck off at Dave-the mechanic's shop at 10:00 pm so he could give it a looksee today. (I want to make sure its going to make it to Seattle and back on Saturday.) At 11:00 I went to Safeway to buy milk and bread and look for a husband in the produce aisle. By midnight I was in bed, exhausted and only slightly conflicted because I hadn't blogged.


You'd think I would've woked up all chipper and sunny, wouldn't you? I was in bed at midnight. Not 1:30 like usual. So I had a whole lot more sleep than usual. But no. No, I was still tired. Woke up yawning.

I got the highschool boys to school roughly on time. Then got Drew over to his school. And came back home with achy elbows, itchy eyes and sore earlobes. I e-mailed work, letting them know I was feeling lousy and would work from home. I crawled into bed and woke up minutes before it was time to go back to the schools. I. CAN. NOT. BE. SICK. I am too important. Stuff needs to happen and I need to organize it.

You know what happens when you spend three weekends plus a few weeknights helping someone get ready to move? I'll tell you. Your own house gets neglected. And just about every hour that you're packing up 35 years of someone else's life you say to yourself - I'm going to get rid of my junk as soon as possible. And you will. Really, you will. Just as soon as you get some free time.

I knew that Kevin and Sharon were going to bring some plants over to my place and use some of my spare garden space as a temporary home for their beloved ones. She's nutured them for years on the farm, and couldn't bear to leave them behind. So, they'll stay in the garden behind my dining room and they can visit and love on them as much as they want. Not wanting them to see the horrific condition of my mostly ignored back yard, I attemped a major yard clean up just as the sun broke out.

That dog? The one who's been shitting on my back lawn? Did a few numbers in the gardens as well. I coulda cried. I wanted to. Not many things as disgusting as someone else's dog's crap all over your yard. Some of it was fresh, but alot of it had started to decay and mush out.

And then. Then. I noticed a large patch of something in the middle of the lawn that did not look like dog feces. It looked like something a cat might throw up. Or possibly a dryer might spit out.

Turns out, upon closer inspection, that it was a rat. A flattened dead rat. A daddy-sized rodent. Dead. In my yard. I coulda cried. I would have if I had the time.

Kevin and Sharon arrived a few minutes later, and he dealt with it for me, commenting on the considerable girth of the late rat. No. I did not take a picture. But I've got it burned on the ram memory of my mind, and I'm not too happy about that.


Seconds after they left, Max and I went to the farm to meet Clint. Neither dad nor mom were home, so while the boys looked for ways to break in (the ladder? upper window?) I went down to the shop/suite to have a look at the kitchen cabinets. I thought they'd work great in my garage. It was dark, quiet and locked, so I went around to the side and entered through my dad's old workshop. The radio, which has been on the country and western station since 1984, was still on. None of his tools were in there but it still smelled like wood and sawdust, two of my very favorite smells. The door to the garage was unlocked, so I walked through, remembering the rainy August afternoon that we moved dad and mom's 25th anniversary party from the backyard to the this room. I found the light switch and made my way up the stairs. I walked across the carpeted floor and sat down on the top step of the stairway to the loft.

It was the first time I'd been alone in this space for years. The memories? Slammed me. They hit me on all sides. When we first lived there, the upper loft was a craft room. And after Clint was born, we gave him the bedroom and took the loft as our room. When we moved back in '96 with 3 kids and a whole lot more baggage, we put Drew's crib over there, and the boys' bunk beds over there. Two totally different sets of memories from the two separate times I lived there. The young Jane, full of dreams and plans and love. Ten years later, the older Jane, a little tired and skeptical and worried about love.

In the cold, I wandered around, remembering. The thrill of moving in the first time, with all our belongings in 4 pick up trucks. The chaos of our move the second time, trying to get the moving truck down the windy driveway during the worst snow storm of the year. The parties. The laughter. The love. The wood-burning stove that made everyone sleepy. The way it was so blinking hot in the summer and how none of the windows opened to let fresh air in. The Christmases. The day we brought Clint home from the hospital. The way my brother always had to make a fireplace mantle in the shop beside us as soon as I put Clint down for a nap. The way the air compressor refilled itself in the middle of the night. The ladybugs.

Sitting there, I coulda cried.

I came close.

But prayed instead. Prayed that whatever pain anyone associates with that barn would be forgotten. That when any of us that have ever lived, worked or visited there remember that building, only warm memories and times of love would be recalled. Prayed for my kids who have a ton of memories wrapped up in that place. Just kept praying as I fought tears.

And then I got really cold, so I went back up to dad and mom's house.

We were there to pick up an oak desk and set of oak bookshelves for our place. I'd been trying to get these items of furniture moved for months. And today was the day. We put the desk pieces in the back of Clint's pick up and the bookshelves went into dad's work van. Then we returned to Langley.

I was the first one back, so I made moved a few things in the living room to make room for the bookshelves. I was SO looking forward to having a place to put all the books and photo albums Clint put on the floor when he took my first set of shelves out of that room and put them upstairs next to his desk for his own personal use. His office area looks organized. My living room looks like Hurricane Gretchen blew through.

When dad arrived, I sent Max and Andrew out to grab the shelves. They came back in a few minutes later, sheepishly. As careful as they were, gently, not at all being rough, the unit, uhh, fell apart. The base and kick came loose, the top and crown moulding came off, the back is lifting away from the frame. All the pieces are laid out in the garage to be fixed. Someday. I stood there looking at the mess in my garage. Then went back into the living room and looked at the mess in there.

I coulda cried.

But I probably wouldn't've stopped.

So I ordered pizza, watched The Office, helped Drew write two poems, and settled in to watch E.R.

He kissed her. Ray gently kissed Nila.

It was tender. And sweet. And perfect.

Then Sam put her son in a school for troubled youth.

And as she walked away crying, I joined her.

I feel better now.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. The cold I was expecting to move into my nose didn't happen today.

2. Drew's homework got done.

3. Today is the first day of Lent.

Shalom,