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Day three was noisy but relative smooth sailing.
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Excess wood… that served no purpose other than to act as useless shims… was removed, and everything was repositioned, leveled and put back where it should be.
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Extra heavy duty hangers were installed on both sides…
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And all the rafters were secured to the beam as they should have been 30 years ago.
When the contractor left for the day?
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His Lordship was on the move.
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He thinks we put up the plastic room just for him.
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I read a blog this morning that touched my soul for numerous reasons.
http://agracefull-life.com/2023/09/18/where-im-from/
The author wrote a poem from a template and after reading hers I knew I had to do the same. To honor my parents. To relive my idyllic childhood. To reflect on the varied ancestors who had come before.
It was a bittersweet journey of remembrance and I’d love for you to do the same.
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Where I’m from.
I am from the well worn but oh so comfortable reading chair in the library.
From Stewarts Root Beer floats and Fralingers salt water taffy.
I am from brick walls and polished slate floors. The solid, firm foundation that wrapped me in a warm embrace.
I am from the central rose garden. Fragrantly scenting the air… delicate, yet able to survive the storms.
I’m from magical Christmas Eves in NYC. From never losing your temper and treating everyone with respect.
From Lovey and Lottie Mae.
I’m from a stiff upper lip and a dry sense of humor.
From don’t take any wooden nickels to follow your dreams.
I’m from quiet personal faith, the kind that doesn’t need a church to know right from wrong.
I’m from a serene English garden transplanted to the middle of suburbia, from bangers and mash to boeuf bourguignon.
From painful separation on Ellis Island. From family betrayal and loss of legacy. From the sacrifice required to hold a family together. From the triumph of perseverance, hard work and above all… love.
I’m from the wall of framed pictures that line our hall… and from that beautifully bound and gold monogrammed navy leather photo album, brittle with age but continuing to hold us together.
The faces and places. The history of a lineage whose many parts came together to form…. me.
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Here’s a link to the template if you’d like to try your hand at poetry.
https://www.wsuu.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/I_Am_From_Poem(2).pdf
I found it to be oddly cathartic. Maybe you will as well.
If so… please share yours and add a link in the comments.
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❤️
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I doubt anyone can really use it, but here goes.
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96 children?
Who does he think he is… Elon Musk?
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They say don’t knock it till you’ve tried it… but I’m going to pass on that particular experience.
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I blog more than anyone I know, but even I don’t need that.
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To hell with music, fame and the rest… I just want to know where she got the seeds for that fabulous garden.
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72%? Sure, that’s close enough for surgery. A 28% chance of losing something vitally important seems worth the risk.
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Turns out it does. Men are thrilled and claiming the heatwaves covering half the country have increased the size of their members. For these overly proud men… I have one word.
Thermoregulation.
Winter is going to be such a disappointment.
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I should know better than to click on penis stories.
I really should…
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There’s nothing worse than not being able to take advantage of freebies. And while I was thrilled to win a free book a when I first joined Goodreads, not being able to claim their next giveaway offer is frustrating.
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I hate ereaders and don’t own a Kindle. Audio is not my thing either. So because I’m old school and prefer tactile reading, I’m missing out on a free book.
And that’s frustrating.
😖
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You tend to attract more than sparrows.
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And while I think this is a Coopers Hawk…
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I know he’s looking for a nice fat juicy dove for breakfast.
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It’s never easy to watch, but he has to eat too.
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And birds of prey are such glorious graceful creatures…
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❤️
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As I sit here typing this post, a hurricane is blowing its way past us outside. Thankfully the worst of it will be felt to our north… and though we already have tree branches down and will probably lose power later this afternoon, I’m not too worried. Maine rarely sees hurricanes so people were panicking and buying every battery and bottle of water they could find, but we lived in coastal North Carolina for 17 years. That was the time to worry.
Last evening after putting away the porch and deck furniture, bringing bird feeders and hanging flower baskets inside and tying down the grill cover … we did what one does on the eve of a hurricane.
We went for ice cream.
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Cones in hand, we enjoyed the glorious show Mother Nature was putting on in the sky.
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These are untouched photos from my phone. It really was that fabulous.
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It was one of those sunsets you hate to see end.
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Never let it he said the wild critters at Casa River are underfed.
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Talk about a chonk!
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Winter hibernation will be a breeze this year.
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😉
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Our contractor started bright and early on day two but it turns out the good news from day one wasn’t all good.
No, the beam doesn’t need to be replaced but the overall support structure needs work which required a temporary load bearing wall to be built inside the plastic cave. .
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Turns out whoever built this addition back in ‘94 didn’t do a good job with the rafters.
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It’s hard to get proper pictures of the problem but things are separating and that’s not good.
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I’m no carpenter, but the fact that those tiny nails trying to grab onto the beam have been the only things holding up part of our living room roof was a little concerning.
The repair options were these:
1. Hire a structural engineer (at considerable cost) to come in and completely rip apart the entire addition roof, replace the beam and redo all the rafters and trusses.
Or….
2. Since the existing beam is solid (and has miraculously held everything in place for the past 30 years with virtually no support) have our contractor square everything, redo the rafter and truss supports, add heavy duty hangers, and make sure everything is properly secured.
Needless to say we chose door number two.
Since our contractor isn’t a structural engineer he can’t guarantee things won’t sag in another 30 years but realistically, my husband will probably be gone and I’ll be in an old folks home… so who cares?
🤣
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Work continues, in a very small space and in the pouring rain. It would be nice if the saws and power tools could be set up on the back deck but we’re having monsoon downpours right now.
It’s always something.
🥴
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Don’t argue.
Just play…
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Two things immediately come to mind.
First… read a book. The old fashioned bound paper variety. As much as I love my tech, I despise Kindles and their ilk. I’m a tactile reader and love nothing more than opening a newly printed book.
Second… I pay my bills by check, through the mail. No automatic withdrawals linked to my bank account, no monthly debits on my card. We’ve been hacked too many times for me to voluntarily give my info to every company we pay for services. It may be slower, but it also helps the struggling USPS… because when that goes under we’re all in trouble
How about you…
What do you still do the old fashioned way?
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My husband is a pretty tough guy. A career Marine. A Vietnam veteran. A man who calmly wades in when everyone else is running out. A straight shooter who sees the world in black and white. He’s not an anxious or nervous person. Nothing rattles him and I can honestly say in the almost 40 years we’ve been married, I’ve only ever seen him scared once.
Until yesterday, when I saw it again.
We received a call last week asking if we wanted to take a cancellation appointment that became available for his cataract surgery. It was originally slated for December 6th, so the husband jumped at the chance to have it done sooner.
We arrived early, and the prep began. This involved endless eye drops for dilation and numbing and some very sexy head gear.
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As I stated earlier, I hope I’m never in this position. I’m eye squeamish and the mere thought of anyone getting near mine would make me bolt for the door. But my husband seemed fine… until the nurses started explaining exactly what would be transpiring in the operating room.
Was he nervous about them cutting into his eyeball? No.
But when they told him his arms would be tightly wrapped by his side and his head securely strapped down … his feet started to twitch. When they said a tent would be placed over his face and he wouldn’t be able to see anything… his blood pressure started climbing.
Scalpel to the eye? No problem.
Being restrained and not in control? Big problem.
The anesthesiologist arrived and spoke with him about the 3 sedation levels available. None, which is what he wanted. Light, and IV pushed. Seeing that his anxiety level was rising she suggested the IV.
My husband hates drugs and has never taken them. The feeling of losing control is anathema to him. But the longer he sat there thinking about it, the higher his blood pressure went and the nurses all agreed sedation would be necessary.
They gave him an IV and some type of relaxing anti anxiety drug. A sweet nurse held his hand and talked soothingly… but the minute the drug hit his system? He tried to fight it and was not a happy camper. Three nurses and the anesthesiologist tried to get him to relax, breathe deeply and let it calm him nerves… but my husband being my husband wasn’t having it. Under sedation his blood pressure rose to 179/115.
They kept asking if he was okay to proceed and he kept saying yes so they wheeled him off to surgery.
Only to return 10 minutes later saying it wasn’t going to happen.
Apparently when they got him strapped down and swaddled, no amount of drugs were enough to calm his anxiety and his doctor refused to go ahead with the surgery fearing my husband would move when he was supposed to remain perfectly still.
Back in the prep room… unwrapped , unstrapped and back in control… his blood pressure dropped to 124/75. He was embarrassed. Ashamed. And kept apologizing. The staff assured him that it happens all the time and not to be sorry. Everyone has their limits and he’d just found his.
The next step will be scheduling a hospital cataract removal where they put you completely under. No anxiety, no stress… just go to sleep and wake up to it being done.
Knocking me out would be the only way they’d ever get close to my eyes so it sounds like the perfect solution to me.
😊
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