While I was working on it- (and I got this much done:
I believe that before there was anything, there was God. And that He alone created the heavens and the earth. (Genesis 1:1) I believe that we are all sinners. (Romans 3:23)
I believe that Jesus Christ is God’s only Son. That He died for my sins and rose from the dead 3 days later. (John 3:16)
I believe that because of the resurrection, I have eternal life.
I believe that the Bible is God’s word.)
... Max showed up. (Around 10-ish) So I quit.
I had rented a shop vac earlier in the day, and he was going to make an attempt to suck up the dust from my crawlspace.
Yeah, so THAT didn't happen ... the sucking up of debris, that is. We couldn't fit the shop vac down there. And Max didn't fit either.
So he LAY ON HIS BACK, and tried to sweep up the dust with a broom and succeeded in getting himself incredibly dirty.
Clint dropped in around midnight, assessed the situation and suggested we watch a movie (Gangs of New York) and eat soup (I'd just made a pot of ham and cauliflower soup.) I'm so thankful that I had it, and a fresh loaf of bread handy. Mom's kitchens should always have good food in them. And extra beds and clean towels on hand for when sons drop by, need a shower and stay for night. I was prepared. Four stars in the mom column. Zero stars in the homeowner column.
On Saturday morning, I went to visit my dad, and the boys went to their dad's place to borrow his shop vacs, (he had 2 of them) hoping they'd be smaller. They were. But everyone had lost steam for the project by this point. It's the long weekend. The sun is shining. Who wants to mess with shop vacs in a 3 foot space? Not me. Not them. So we abandoned the tools and equipment and went our separate ways.
I joined their (my) extended family that evening in Greendale, and wished Godspeed to Stuart and Vanessa as they begin a new chapter in their lives in CALIFORNIA.
None of my immediate family was there, and Val was busy being the host 'n all, so after she (re) introduced me to some of her friends and some of Vanessa's inlaws, I was on my own. Making conversation with people I did not know. This type of activity is not within the boundaries of my comfort zone.
But it turned out OK.
One person at a time, I got to hear some good stories and one person at a time I got to know a few people a little bit better.
And know what I was thinking on my drive home later that evening? I was thinking that I was glad there was no MC at this gathering telling me to turn to the person sitting next to me and shake their hand. (I think Carolyn was blogging about me in this post.)(Smile) I'm slowly growing up. (Just ask that someone I was married to how very difficult it was for me to chat, by myself, to his employees, at various company functions/events. It paralyzed me. Which, unfortunately is in direct violation of the Executive Wife's Internationally Accepted Code of Conduct - be outgoing and friendly to everyone and don't keep holding his hand like it's a life support line.)
I'm getting better at social stuff.
When I got home I realized that I needed, yes, absolutely needed to read books 2 and 3 of the Hunger Game series again. (We - Drew, Danica, Clint and I) watched the Hunger Games the previous weekend at the lake, and I needed to have my memory jogged about how the trilogy ended. So I started reading Catching Fire on Saturday night at midnight and finished on Sunday.
Just as I was reading the final chapter, my mom called.
"Hi. Are you coming to visit dad?"
"Well, I was there yesterday, and I plan on coming again on Monday, so probably not. I'm heading to the PNE with Maureen in a few minutes. Why?"
"Oh, well, I left my purse in dad's room and you might wonder where I am because I'm not there. I'm at the hospital."
So I head over to Surrey immediately and plan on sitting with my mom in emergency. By the time I've parked and found her, (one and a half hours after her phone call) she is ready to go. All done. Xrays, scan, consult, all finished. She doesn't have bone cancer (which we both thought but never discussed with each other), wasn't in the midst of having a heart attack (yay) and she hadn't pulled, broken, strained or dislocated anything in her shoulder. She was in the midst of a severe arthritic fare up, and she needed some pain meds. (It is hard, HARD, yo, to watch someone you love experience crippling pain.)
I walked with her back to the Lodge, and visited with dad for awhile, before trekking into Vancouver. I'm glad for the hour long ride as it gave me the space I needed to transition from sickness and aging and pain and sadness (2 women from his neighbourhood, who appeared to be far healthier and more whole than my dad, passed away this week) to The PNE! And mini donuts! And happy people!
The reason we are there is to see Lifehouse. (It's a band. These are 2 of my favorite songs: Hanging By A Moment (which was my personal anthem in 2002) and You and Me (which makes me want to be in love very badly.)
It was a fine day at the fair.
(In case you're STILL not on facebook, the rest of my PNE pics have been added to my summer album. Go on, take a look here.)
The long ride back to Aldergrove gave us ample opportunity to talk, and whoa. When I have someone trapped in my truck for 90 minutes, I Do Not Shut Up. So many things to process with my voice. Seriously. I always am embarrassed afterwards. Why can't I just listen? What's with all the talking? It's a Good Thing I'm not married - the man would be running for cover everytime I opened my mouth.
When I got home at midnight, there were two boys in my house:
They were working in the crawlspace.
I can't even begin to describe what a despicable place my crawlspace is. I am in awe at how Clint and Max stuck with it, even when the shop vac solution wasn't working.
Yes, the deal fell through on my house. But the inspector I hired strongly suggested I get it cleaned out.
So my boys stepped up. And in. And down.
They worked til 2 am, and stayed for night again.
I knew the space they had been cleaning wasn't spotless, but it was 98% better than it had been. The downside to having someone create a ruckus in one's dust filled lower level space, is that, that dust? Finds new places to settle.
My entire house became coated with a fine layer of 20-years-old dust. The floors, furniture, countertops, appliances, computers, bedding, couches, carpets, EVERYTHING.
Which? Would have been NBG.
(No big deal.)
It was Labor Day.
I had the entire week to clean.
And besides, I was half-way convinced I didn't want my house listed anymore.
Maybe I was supposed to stay in M'ville? Maybe I have unfinished business here? Maybe one of my kids has unfinished business here? Maybe, instead of getting a new house with a basement suite, I'm supposed to fill up these empty bedrooms with students? Maybe I need to concentrate on getting a job and spend less time jumping through hoops for realtors and inspectors and purchasers?
I? Was questioning everything that Labor Day afternoon.
And then I had a showing at 3.
Of course I did.