Making a place your own

Now that I’ve retired, I’m probably living in the last home I’ll ever own. It’s a mobile home, so most of the “decorating” is dictated by what’s built in and where, but we’ve added touches, etc.

But over the years, one of the things I have truly enjoyed is moving into somewhere new, whether it was a new home or a new office for my law practice. There’s something about taking an empty space and envisioning the possibilities that I just love. (not the packing up and moving OUT, btw. Just the new moving in).

So now that I drive Little Miss to her employment prep classes every day at Mission Hospital in downtown Asheville, I’ve noticed this small building on the corner.

It’s not for rent that I know of, and I’m certainly not looking to open a new office. But it’s just cute. I love the slanted windows and can just imagine filling them with an assortment of plants, creating a healthy and happy working environment. Even living on the left side and officing on the right? Could be very convenient, and a lock between the two would certainly make it safer than my last office, which was in my home. (Only one bullet hole in the windows, a potential bomb threat in a manila envelope,  and a dead deer in the front garden. Not too bad for 15 years.)

What about you? Do you enjoy transforming an empty space into one you’ll love to be in? Or is moving just another task of drudgery? Share the pictures and spaces you’ve loved–and hated.

 

The sunshine of life

But you got to have friends
The feeling’s oh so strong
You got to have friends
To make that day last long…

This weekend we hosted the Navy Girls Reunion Tour as my daughter M, three of her former Navy galpals, and their six children all descended on the house. Six adults and eight children, even in a house this size, is pretty exciting. But we cooked and swept (and swept) and played and watched movies and went to the Great Lakes Medieval Faire and generally had a good time.

By Sunday, Little Miss had hit overload and needed a couple of hours’ retreat into my office, with the door closed. She’s so much better that I forget about her sensory issues sometimes.  Even Ditto Boy, who’s been so whiny about having no one to play with since the Captain went away on visit, starting picking fights with the boys and announced that he never had fun when M’S son was here. (Absolutely untrue. Just welcome to the ranks of what having a little brother would be like.)

But overall, very little damage across the board, so we ranked it a success– short and sweet.

Truth be told, I envied M for her reunion. It’s been years since I had “girlfriends” like that–high school probably. I never connected with anyone in college or law school, or when my ex was in the service. Even my old reporter friends are Christmas card newsletter types.  I’ve lived in this small town since 1990 and I’ve met women, had study groups at church and the like, but no one close.

The Cabana Boy’s the same way. His Oklahoma years are well behind him, no old Army buddies, and while he’s been at school, both as student and now as teacher, he’s much more focused on the companionship of his family.

Part of it is the autism, I think. It’s difficult to connect with other families when your children are dealing with much different issues, even if they are welcoming and tolerant of those differences. Part of it is that neither of us are social butterfly types.But we really tend to stick close to home and children.

I suppose we’ve set a bad example for the children by not demonstrating that ability/necessity to have a social network. Certainly K is reflecting the difficulties of starting in a new place by not knowing how to make new connections. B finds her friends and her closely-knit workmates in the same place, so she has a support group of sorts. And while M may not have a solid friendship set in whatever place the Navy sends them each time, she’s able to pull this diverse group of young women together frequently to meet and share with each other. Good for her. And this weekend, good for us, too.

the more the merrier...

Robert Louise Stevenson said, “A friend is a present you give yourself.” No need to wait for a special occasion–this gift gives all year round. Celebrate.

A wandering mind

One point of wonder for me about the United States is that our country has such a variety of climates and geography, all available inside our borders. Whether you prefer living by the seaside, at the foot of mile-high mountains, among the prairie dogs or amid a skyscraper jungle, most people eventually gravitate to the area of country where they will be comfortable.

I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve lived in many of these areas. We spent the better part of a year in Missoula, Montana, with the Rockies and Glacier National Park as our backyard. We had more than a decade in south Florida, with the Keys and the Everglades to explore. Pennsylvania has many points of interest as well, being a few hours from Niagara Falls and several big cities with diverse populations.

We’ve visited so many more, and I’ve always had a hankering to return to the Taos, New Mexico area. Oregon and northern California were also appealing. New Orleans was fascinating (we visited pre-Katrina), but even then I’m not sure we would have wanted to relocate there. The saying about those living in Florida getting “sand in their shoes”–i.e., always needing to return– is one that rings true for me also.

How do you decide?

Work obviously necessitates making sure you can be employed in your particular field, at least if you have a family to take care of. I must confess,  as we approach 20 years here in the same place, I’m envious of those with no real estate, no ties, who can pack all they own in their car and head out for new adventures with just their hopeful attitude in their pockets!

Health concerns are next on the list. The Cabana Boy reminds me often that fibromyalgia sufferers would do better out of the cold and snow. On the other hand, Pennsylvania has outstanding coverage for kids on the spectrum, and that’s not something to drop lightly.

With economics at the forefront of everyone’s outlook, that’s something else to factor in. My work is more likely to grow here; the Cabana Boy could easily find work in a hundred other places. But we’re both working here. Sadly, that’s more than a lot of folks can say. B tells us that in a recent class of her environmental ed students, 40 percent of those kids’ parents got laid off in the same week. It’s not something we can take for granted any more.

Neither are basic necessities like fresh, clean water. I’ve become sensitized to this subject lately, and I find we are living in one of the few areas in the country–maybe the world–where we are pretty much guaranteed fresh water year-round. (Probably because of all this stupid SNOW. But it serves a purpose besides making us miserable.)

So we’re here now. And we’re doing okay. We’ve got our eyes open for possibilities, though. What other kinds of fascinating places are out there yet for us to explore?  Let us know!

***

And here’s a shout-out to Janie over at the Carnival of Family Life–thanks for featuring my post!

Approaching equilibrium

You know, every once in awhile you just hit a real bump in the road.

So many of us “manage,” we do the best we can every day as spouses, as parents, to try to keep our fingers in the old dyck for as long as possible. But sooner or later, the water just gets too high, and your carefully-balanced house of cards is in danger of being washed away. When that happens, it’s time to stop and re-assess priorities before you lose touch with your life altogether.

Priorities in this house are: 1) safety and well-being of each person; 2) roof over head; 3) food on table. These are the same priorities I often share with my clients who are panicking about what to do. These three things you MUST have–the rest can come when they will.

No question here that everyone is safe. They have a home, a bed, their clothing, a wide selection of toys. (Grownups too.) The clothing is not always new. We buy, I’d guess, two-thirds of our clothes from Ebay, consignment and thrift shops for two reasons: the first, because they cost less, and second, because it conserves world resources. This is why we also donate our gently-used items back to the thrift shops as well. This may horrify some of my colleagues, whose children prefer to shop at Abercrombie & Fitch and Hollister. Well, get over it.

We don’t drive new cars, though we each have a vehicle, because we work in different cities. Our house is over 100 years old and isn’t in a spiffy new subdivision. We may have eight computers in the house; all but one are recycled and repaired from someone else’s use. The adults can’t afford health insurance (the best quote we got was $800/month). We don’t vacation in the islands. For an attorney and a teacher, actually, the scope of our lifestyle is pretty narrow. The only real “luxuries” we enjoy, to rate ourselves against the news stories these days, is the privilege of dining out a couple of nights a week. That’s more to deal with the exhaustion of work and child care than the joy of something fabulous.

So the bills get paid, not much else, while both adults work out of the home, me about 5 hours a day, the Cabana Boy an average of 10 hours a day, Monday through Friday. (Even at that, my pay scale dictates I bring home about twice what he does.) He drives 70 miles a day to work–hello gas pump! Weekends are usually a blur, trying to catch up on all we didn’t get done through the week.

Now this is probably no different than many other two-career families in this “more, faster, now” society. But here’s the bump: we’re losing each other. The adults have almost no time together because of work hours and kid commitments, and resentments build over time when one or the other of us feels like we’re being neglected or put-upon– although we know the other is trying so hard just to keep up that we suck it down and try not to complain.

So what do we do? Someone has to be available to make sure all the therapy and appointments are made, prescriptions are refilled, kids everywhere they need to be. We can’t both work full-time, unless we had a nanny who lived in. Our needs are minimal; maybe we should both work part-time. It would put a pinch on, but we could deal with it. With summer coming on, there will be a lot of garden work to be done, again to save money and promote health, and kids out of school. Can we both keep up this schedule and still make it?

Where is the point at which life balances–enough time, enough love, enough resources? What can you give up and still survive? Who takes care of the ones who care for everyone else? Where do you get answers to these kind of questions?

I never thought I’d be quoting Martha Stewart, but this is apropos: “When I got married and had a child and went to work, my day was all day, all night. You lose your sense of balance. That was in the late ’60s, ’70s, women went to work, they went crazy. They thought the workplace was much more exciting than the home. They thought the family could wait. And you know what? The family can’t wait.”

So we’ll be talking about those priorities. We’ll see you on the other side.

What they say is true: parents, too are casualties of their child’s autism.