by jphilo | Jan 31, 2008 | Daily Life
The bathroom tile project is done, thanks to my industrious, and for a while, very stressed husband. The plumbing’s fixed, the tiles on, the grout’s been applied, and every remaining crevice has been caulked.
And, though you all know I would never have dreamed of whining about the situation one little bit, I am much happier now that all my necessary beauty stuff is back in our bathroom. I didn’t realize how much stuff it takes to create beauty like mine until I had to haul it out and then haul it in again.
But I digress. The picture above shows what a good job Hiram did. You can find the comparison shot at the January 31 entry. The tiles look a little pink, but in reality they are “biscuit” which is decorator talk for “off white.”
Through the whole remodeling process I learned two things. FIrst, I learned to be grateful for a master bathroom off the master bedroom. The convenience is a true gift. Second, when I moved from the kitchen bathroom to the upstairs bathroom after Anne went back to college, I discovered the upstairs bathroom needs a lot of work. The sink drains slow, the knobs on the tub are shot, the wall paper border looks tired, etc. In short, it needs remodeling.
I won’t mention that to Hiram quite yet. Using the upstairs bathroom for a month was inconvenient. Living with a cranky husband is torture. I can’t handle that right now. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with winter and cold and snow. But Hiram might want to brush up on his Shakespeare quotations in the next few weeks. You know the one I mean?
Beware the Ides of March.
by jphilo | Jan 22, 2008 | Daily Life
A glance at the side yard through the dining room door made me smile. Snow covered the top of the old birdbath. I admired the perfectly shaped mound for a moment. It caught my eye later as I lugged groceries into the house. But it wasn’t until I put the apples into the crock pot and saw the birdbath again, this time from the kitchen window, that I understood what I was seeing. White grace on a still, cold morning.
For years I rushed to work and didn’t see the grace. Even on days when school started two hours late, like it did today, I went to school early to prepare, to be ready to give my students what they needed and deserved. All day long I pushed aside the ideas inside my head, the stories that begged to be written down. By the time I got home at night and cared for my family, I’d forgotten the words. Still grace was at work, but when I slowed down enough to see it, I fell asleep instead.
Four years ago, when an opportunity arose to pursue the ideas and stories that had survived my neglect, I left teaching. It took a while, but eventually I remembered the words I’d forgotten. I learned to put the words together so people could understand them. I grew to cherish the time I’ve been given to do so. I slowed down and began to dream and imagine again. This morning, I slowed down enough to marvel at a gift I’d ignored too long.
White grace, undeserved and beautiful, perched on the birdbath.
Thank You, Father.
by jphilo | Jan 17, 2008 | Daily Life
It snowed in the night, while I was sleeping. I woke to a changed world. This morning the yard glitters with three inches of soft, white coldness covering every blemish. I hated to mar that smooth perfection, but scooped a small path to the garage. Then I put the shovel away and went inside, determined to enjoy the beauty before it melted away.
While I ate breakfast I noticed the spruce trees in the back yard, their tips dusted with snowflakes. Every few minute a bit of snow fell from a branch and exploded in the silent breeze. I looked at the trees and wondered, as I have so often in the past year, when they grew so large.
Hiram and I planted four blue spruces when our children were little. Allen was about ten, and Anne was four. The trees were tiny, less than a yard tall when Hiram dug holes and the kids and I dragged the hose from hole to hole. We never watered the trees again, just trusted their roots to find water and their branches to soak up the sunshine.
The trees are so tall now, and I marvel. When did their branches grow strong enough to bear the weight of the snow? And when did my children learn to stand and accept the weight of adulthood?
It happened in the night, I think, while I was sleeping.
by jphilo | Jan 8, 2008 | Daily Life
I know it’s January and most people have their decorations down – unless you belong to the Orthodox Church. They’re Nativity celebration is today. But that’s beside the point. The point is that most of our Christmas decorations are down, but two lighted garlands will remain in place until mid-February.
The reason is simple. It’s because of the light. Though the hours of daylight are now increasing every twenty-four hours, January is a dark month. The lack of light gets me down. Right now it’s 4:00 in the afternoon and the sun is nearing the western horizon. Once it goes down, so does my energy level. If there’s no light, my body wants to sleep.
In reality, December is a darker month, but with preparation for Christmas, extra activities and extra time spent with family it flies by. But not January. The Christmas tree comes down. The daughter goes back to college. The dog goes to its other home. The hours between meals are interminable as I work off the extra pounds I put on eating my mom’s fabulous Chex mix. The month creeps by.
So every morning when I get up in the dark and every afternoon as the sun starts to set, I turn on the lights in the two sets of garland. The tiny lights shine in the darkness. They shine best in the darkness, bright and piercing.
That truth gives me hope in January when it’s dark. It wakes me up and keeps me going. Sometimes, I think, it even helps me shine.
by jphilo | Jan 1, 2008 | Daily Life
The remodeling started yesterday when my husband announced he planned to tear out all the shower tile in our master bathroom. For about three months we’ve been aware of a little moisture problem that needed to be investigated. And since New Year’s Eve is always the best time to initiate home improvement projects – you can get a twenty-four hour jump on the New Year’s resolution thing that way – Hiram got busy with the crow bar.
This morning, with the convenient bathroom out of commission, I was reminded of how much I hate camping. It took me three trips, maybe four, to move everything into the kitchen bathroom so I could complete my toilette. And just when I was ready to step into the shower, I remembered the rest of the stuff I needed. I had to get dressed again and haul another armload from one bathroom to the other. After the shower and two more trips to the master bathroom, I was ready for the day.
And that’s when I remembered why I hate camping. It is so darn inefficient. You spend all your time moving from one place to another, packing everything you need. Then at the pivotal moment, you realize you forgot the most essential necessity and have to figure out a way to retrieve it or come up with a way to do without it. After a weekend away from it all, you go home exhausted and covered with bug bites.
Most years when June and July roll around, somebody talks me into a camp-out by describing how much fun camping is. But 2008 is going to be different. Even though I’m now fifty-one and need one of those pill keepers to remember to take my vitamins, thanks to our January bathroom remodeling project, I will not forget how much I hate camping and all its inefficiencies.
Even though I’ve found some good in our present bathroom situation, next New Year’s Eve I’m hiding the crow bar. This winter camping business is for the birds.
by jphilo | Dec 18, 2007 | Daily Life
The sun’s shining today, and the weatherman predicts the temperature will rise above freezing. I’ve been out once to chip away at the two inches of ice on the sidewalk and driveway. I’ll be back at it in another hour, when the sun’s strongest.
Chipping on that ice isn’t easy. My wrists hurt when I bang the blunt spade down. My back hurts when I bend and scoop the ice over to the edge. The sun on the snow does weird things to my eyes. And I create a perfect environment for hot flashes when the effort warms me up. Still, the work can’t wait. Hiram’s at work, and Anne’s cleaning house, though she’d chop the ice if I asked her. So ice duty falls to me.
There’s a lot to be said for the job. It’s outdoor work on a sunny day, and after being cooped up for two weeks, that’s a blessing. It burns quite a few extra calories, and with all the holiday goodies around, that’s a blessing, too. It makes the trip from the house to the garage much safer. And it provides immediate gratification, unlike many of the things I chip away at every day: sending off article queries and waiting weeks or months for replies, posting blog entries and wondering if they touch anyone, praying for people I meet and never see again.
The ice I’m chipping away at today is tangible, measurable and cold. Chipping away at hard, slippery things in life never ends, but rarely are they so clearly visible. And at this infrequent time of unexpected blessing, I don’t move forward on faith alone. I can see the progress being made.
It’s an icy blessing, a winter blessing. And on this sunny winter day, it is enough.
