From Curtains To Bears

Tonight is the night!

And what night is that? you may ask.

Tonight we are sleeping in our new house!

ALL of our stuff will finally be in one place for the first time in forever. And because of that, I will finally be able to stop thinking so hard, which is a good thing because my brain is becoming borderline befogged. And bedraggled. And bamboozled. And bereft of braininess.

As part of our ongoing moving progress report, I am happy to say that the mattress on the king bed has been moved and the dust ruffle applied so that our bed can be made up today. We got all the miscellaneous storage boxes moved out of Sarah's bathroom so that Sarah can actually walk into her bathroom. (It's always very helpful to be able to walk into ones own bathroom.)

Yesterday, I joyfully liberated all of the clothes in our closet from their claustrophobic confines of garbage bags and rubber bands. We had gathered up 6-8 pieces of clothing at a time, put rubber bands around the hangers and then put an upside down trash bag over them, poking the bunched hangers out through a little slit in the bag. (Thanks for that great tip, Meagan!)

I have put most of our bathroom items away and am actually able to most of them. (Wonder of wonders!) The washer and dryer are hooked up and the dishes and pans are reasonably well organized.

And on that subject, Sarah was just saying last night, "Mom, I can't wait until we can sit at our own table using our own dishes again!"

Well, Princess Groovy Chick, tonight is the night! I don't know WHAT we'll be eating at our own table on our own dishes (my befogged brain hasn't thought that far ahead) but I must agree that it will be a great joy to finally gather in our new home and eat there as a family.

And speaking of our new home, thanks to all of you for your sweet comments yesterday concerning the decorating of our living room. Although the living room space is not real large, its more diminutive size will provide a cozy, intimate setting for conversation. And books. And friends. And chocolate.

Anyway, I wanted to comment on a few of your comments:

Judy, I was amazed that you would notice from the pictures how well the sofa table fit between the pillars. We were actually sort of surprised by that ourselves because, when we bought the table seven years ago, we didn't even think to use it as a sofa table. When it slid perfectly between those pillars, just like it had been designed to go there, Steve and I both did half of a happy dance. (We were too worn out for a full happy dance.) Anyway, thanks for noticing the Wonder Of The Perfectly Fitting Sofa Table.





As for Sarah and the color of her room, that is a question that is still up for debate. There are several factors we're weighing and sorting (no wonder I'm tired--it's all that weighing and sorting I've been doing) but we'll fill you in as we go along.


Nancy asked where we got our curtains in the living room.

They came from Bed, Bath and Beyond. They have large metal grommets in them that just slide over a metal (or wooden) rod and very easy to put up once the rod is in place.

Mary (one of my most faithful signers) asked whether we could ask the owner of the house to help refinish the floors if my breathing problems resurfaced. And she also asked if we are pretty sure that we're purchasing this house.

First of all, yes, this is the home we are buying when our house in Smithfield sells; we have signed a rent-to-own agreement. When we actually close on the house, the owner has signed papers stating that he will fix a couple things that are the most pressing and then will write a check to apply to the remaining things that need attention. (Not a terribly large check, but at least it will get us started.)

I'm thinking our first priority will be to try and replace all the flooring on the second floor and just start fresh. Whether or not we'll be able to afford hardwood in the bedroom is another thing altogether, but at least we'll have fresh, non dusty, non musty carpet. And my lungs said, "Amen!"


And on an entirely different, non-decorating note (and my few male readers said, "It's about time!") here is a sign that we see each time we cross the second big bridge leaving Manteo.




Isn't that fun?

What I'd like to know is what you're supposed to do if you are diligently watching for bears and actually see one? Yikes. I'm not sure if bears actually make it a habit to cross a highway or not (the way deer do), but I think it would be quite exciting to actually see one. (From inside a car, that is.)

From curtains to bears, that's the Smithellaneous Report for today. The next time I write, it will be from my own house.

Stumbling, Muttering, Wringing. And A Fender Skirt.

We still aren't sleeping in our house due to a variety of reasons so I am now carting a lot of the stuff that was unpacked into the new house back to the cottage that we're borrowing.

It always seems that when I'm at the cottage and need something, it's at the house and when I'm at the house and need something, it's at the cottage. My brain is having to think way too hard just to accomplish the basic stuff of life. My brain is screaming for chocolate. My brain is getting chocolate. Chocolate is the only way to get through each day.

Also, to add to our joyous chaos, every sentence Steve and I have said to each other in the past five days has started with, "Honey, have you seen my . . . ?"

And every answer has been, "It's in a box."

We don't know WHAT box. Just a box. Pick a box, any box.

Sigh.

And today, rather than head back to the house to continue to unpack and get one step closer to sleeping there, we are hitting the road in about an hour to drive back to Smithfield (to our other house) in order to take care of some cleaning and repairs there. We also have to pack up a few leftovers that we didn't have time to deal with when the Big Moving Guys were there.

Have I mentioned I am overwhelmed? And tired of being discombobulated in a most discombobulatory sort of way? My little ol' comfort zone that needs to be well organized has stretched to the point of snapping and I now seem to frequently find myself stumbling around, muttering to myself and wringing my hands.

Stumbling. Muttering. Wringing. You should try it sometime. It's tons of fun!

Thankfully, we've had a couple meals brought in and we were also invited to a church member's house for a meal Saturday night. (Thanks, Bibber, Marvin and Betsy; what a lovely evening!)

It's Bibber's sister who is letting us use her cottage; she lives in Florida and only stays here part of the time. I told Steve that if I didn't have this lovely, cozy, peaceful, well-organized place to come to at night, I would be in serious danger of going utterly insane. And I would also be in serious danger of stumbling, muttering and wringing.

(Oh wait. I'm already doing that. Never mind.)

At any rate, I won't keep you here too long with my random ramblings and ruminations. I just wanted to let you know how much I've appreciated all your sweet messages of encouragement in the comments section; I love checking in several times a day to get a little boost of the sunshine you've been sending our way.

I'll close out with a few miscellaneous pictures before getting ready to head down the highway to Smithfield. To clean. And pack. And organize. And stumble. And mutter. And wring. And chocolate-ize my life.


Here is Sir Hubby hard at work repairing the box spring he had to take apart in order to get it moved upstairs.



Saturday night found all three of us at the house rummaging through boxes and unpacked hanging clothes to try and find something to wear to church. Have you ever tried to find a pair of earrings and matching necklace in a pile of boxes that rivals Mount Everest? I engaged in a little extra stumbling and muttering but I finally succeeded.




Here's Nathan's room in process. We ended up not liking where we'd had the movers put the furniture, so on Saturday, Steve and I ended up moving all the furniture around his room. I told Steve I would be happy to lend him my "massive musculature" for the project. He did very well not to snicker out loud over that particular piece of pitiful hyperbole.


After we got the bed moved to where we wanted it and got the box spring in place, we wrestled the queen sized mattress on top of it. (My massive musculature was not feeling quite so massive by that point.)

We had just barely managed to get the the mattress shoved into place when Steve suddenly shouted, "Hey, we forgot the fender skirt!"

Fender skirt? I stared at him in puzzled bamboozlement before finally realizing that he meant the dust ruffle.

Well, suddenly the whole thing just struck my tired brain as being so funny that I almost had to go sit down on the floor because I was laughing so hard.

Of course (as my few male readers will realize), when Steve mentioned a fender skirt, he was talking about a certain piece of a car. And if you need still more of an explanation, I'll just let you know that a fender skirt is the, um, skirt that goes over the fender. (Sometimes I impress even myself with my broad range of knowledge. Not to mention my massive musculature.)

At any rate, we got the giggling over with, removed the mattress, applied the fender skirt, er, dust ruffle, and put the mattress back where it belonged.

And then, oh joy of joys, we made the bed. It's the first "made" bed in the new house and I was so happy about it I just had to sit and stare at the bed for about ten minutes. (I don't get out much.) When you're living in the land of chaos, even the small triumphs are huge.

One made up bed, complete with a fender skirt; we're making good progress. At this rate, we might even be sleeping in the house before Sarah graduates from High School!

_________________________

Comments On Your Comments


Mrs. Pam asked if I knew where a comment was from if she signed under "anonymous."


Mrs Pam, it won't automatically tell me, but if you just sign your name at the end of your "anonymous" note, all will be well. (And thank you for being one of my most faithful signers.)

______________________


Anonymous asked, "What is on Sarah's Christmas list this year?"


Mostly Cd's, books, and stuff for her little hand held game gizmo. (I can never remember what those are called.) She also said she wants t-shirts with cute graphic sayings on them. (For instance she has one that says, "Life Is Short And So Am I.")

Unfortunately, in the middle of this move, Christmas has been pushed far to the back of my muddled mind. At some point, I suppose I shall have to stop stumbling and muttering and start concentrating on the season. And eggnog. And sugar cookies. And chocolate.



Jan from Toledo asked which song of mine won the Grand Prize in the national songwriting competition I referred to earlier.

Here are the lyrics. We recorded it with a huge sounding orchestra, strings, brass, etc all done on a synthesizer by a guy who does studio work full time and does an amazing job of making orchestral stuff sound "real." We also had some incredible background singers and the song turned out beautifully.


Let The Blood Speak For Me

1. It's so hard to find the words to say
When I'm standing face to face
With the accuser who comes telling me
That I've strayed too far from grace
Just when my soul begins to tremble
Heaven starts to intercede
And I know I can boldly cry
The only words I need

CHORUS
Let the blood speak for me
Let it tell of Calvary
Let it say again
That I am free
O let the blood speak for me

2. When the voice of condemnation comes
When it drives my heart to tears
When it speaks to me of yesterday
Full of failures, full of fears
Well, I begin to cry for mercy
At the gates of grace I plead
Each day I pray for strength to say
The only words I need

Repeat chorus

BRIDGE
Speaking of mercy, speaking of grace
But no longer speaking of sins long erased

Back to chorus

The Preacher Used To Be A Druggie

Yesterday was my day to show the kitchen Who. Was. The. Boss.

This is what the kitchen looked like when the showdown began.







I took one look and almost turned and ran. I almost told the kitchen, "My mistake. I give up. YOU are the boss."

However, I persevered. I held my ground. I waded two-fistedly into the fight. And two hours later, I had made a little progress.






After five hours of chipping away at the Mess That Was The Kitchen, this is how it ended up.








I wanted to get up and do a happy dance when it was all finished but I couldn't seem to muster up even a shred of Happy Dancing Energy. So I sank into a living room chair and watched Sir Hubby work on some curtains. In the process, I discovered another one of his (many) talents.

(Note: The striped material in the middle and the green floral part of the curtain were already there. The goal is to get rid of the green floral--which doesn't match our stuff--and add a couple panels of the curtains we brought in.)



Do you see the burgundy panel, how it's pleated on top? Steve just whipped that up with his handy dandy stapler gun. If I had tried to do that, I would have stapled by own finger and commenced to whimpering piteously. But Steve just does that stuff like it's no big deal, even though most of it seems borderline impossible to me.




Before the curtain creating gig, Steve pulled apart a switch plate and replaced a shorted out thingy. (Fuse? Wire? Connection do-dad? I have no idea what it's called.) I am happy to report that he made sure that the corresponding fuse was turned off. Fried Husband is not a good thing.

We are starting to feel a little bit more at home at the new house, even though we haven't slept there yet. Our master bedroom still looks like this:



Our bathroom is huge! And we finally have double sinks! Whatever will I do with all that space?


On the not-so-positive side, the house needs some tender loving care in several areas. That's the reason we are able to get it at a price anywhere near our budget.






Here's the old, worn and dirty BLUE carpet. (This is on the stairs and all over the second floor. Sarah's floor has carpet too, but it's in better shape.) We're going to have this carpet cleaned on Monday so that I will feel a bit better about walking on it. Yechh.




And here's the paint going upstairs to the second floor. It's pretty scratched everywhere. (Especially after the queen bed trauma Wednesday.) We'll do a bit of touch up painting in our "spare time."





This is the linoleum in Sarah's bathroom. Let's just say that it's "interesting." (The picture doesn't really do justice to how bright the colors are.)



On a funny note: Thursday when Steve was standing near this bathroom talking to a church member, he commented that the linoleum reminded him of something from his hallucinogenic drug days.

One of the Big Mover Guys was coming upstairs right at that moment and he said to me, "Hey, I heard that. The preacher used to be a druggie!"

I replied, "Yeah, and he's an even better preacher because of it becasue he knows where people have been."



Here's Steve back in his "interesting days."


I really dig the turquoise. (Freshman in college.)


A college picture ID when he was playing bass guitar in bars and doing drugs. (Junior in college.)



And so. The Preacher Who Used To Be A Druggie and The Preacher's Wife Who Never Was A Druggie (although she sometimes abuses chocolate) and The Preacher's Daughter (who was actually addicted to morphine during her transplant) are getting all settled into their new home and new lives.

Thanks for stopping by and checking on The Preacher's Family.