27. Sand, Sand and more Sand

We have never experienced a remodel before.  While it is very exciting and Mike and his wife, Susan, are doing such a good job of it and doing their best to keep in mind our comfort, it has sparked something new for me, especially.  Our daughter, Trisha (in Switzerland), said on the phone the other day to use it as an excuse to get rid of things.  I assured her that most of what we had left had a special meaning.  Yee Gads!  How wrong could I be?!!  The renovation is so complete that we have had to unload every cupboard and wall in the kitchen, bathroom and most of the same in the living room and our bedroom.  If you have never been to our cottage, you can't begin to imagine what that means!

I've mostly had the opinion of live and let live and that included closets, cupboards and drawers.  Well, this whole mania has taken on a life of it's own.  Poor Bob!  He has to have his knee worked on again this coming

Tuesday, so I have been working him overtime trying to get it all moved before then.  What a pack rat I have become!  It's really a little embarrassing.  It is true that most of the items have sentimental attachments, however, they have been crowded and covered by dust and things not so sentimental.  

You have to know that I am a child of the depression.  I didn't live through the depression but my parents did.  They nearly starved and it impacted the rest of their lives.  They were never stingy or selfish, but if they didn't need it they didn't buy it and and if they did need it it was paid for with cold hard cash.  Nothing was wasted and when they were through with something odds were they still had the box it came in.  I definitely didn't get that gene.  My mother's house was spic and span, the down side being that if we went somewhere

on the weekend she had made a full breakfast, done all the dishes, swept the floor, made the beds and generally straightened up the rest of the house before the car left the driveway.  I DEFINATELY didn't get that gene.  The closest thing to a criticism that Bob's dad ever said about me was, "Be careful when you close a car door, you might get Sharon's leg caught in it."  It's true that most all things take second place to going some where and it really doesn't matter where. Consequently, my current dilemma.  Instead of following my parents example, I have chosen an opposite path.  The one of least resistance.

This whole upheaval of remodeling has made me clean out and organize every corner and drawer of this cottage.  That includes the SAND CABINET!  An area I have avoided for years.  If you are not a sandoholic I'm sure you are thinking...What the H*@@?  I can even tell you who infected me with this crazy virus!  My dear old friend Sue!  She has kept hers to a minimum by my standards.  Although she wins the award for the most curious piece...her extremely large gallstone.  If you have never touched a gallstone, you are in for a surprise.  They feel extremely smooth and almost wet.  Very peculiar! One would think they would be sharp and well, sandy.  Not so.  But I digress.  

I stood in the living room yesterday with the old wooden ice-box half empty and decided I had the strength to take a tack in  direction.  Sometimes things happen like that at our house.  Out of the blue we just stop what we are doing and start on something else.  Don't ask me why, it's just that most of the time chaos reigns!

I can make the color drain from Bob's face by saying..."You know what we could do?"  "Oh, dear God." is usually his response.  Forty nine years has made him very perceptive.  At any rate, the sand cabinet had met it's fate.  

The sand cabinet started life as a beautiful old french door that our friend Jeff gave us.  (Sue was one of his wives.)  The door has 10 glass panels making it the perfect cabinet.  It is handy to have a husband who can create most any project I suggest.  Now, keep in mind that the contents weren't just dusty, there were also little bags of sand with names of places written on them and lots of odd shaped little bottles that needed filling and labeling.  It wouldn't be such a task if I filled them once in a while instead of waiting until there were so many.

Of course, there is all of the reminiscing that goes with filling or dusting the little vials of sand.  Places we have been or places and stories of places where friends have been.  We have sand from Egypt, Morocco, Russia, China, Europe, South America, the United States, places near and far.  There is even a fabulous two toned stone from the highest pass in Tibet and a sand rose from Saudi Arabia! There are tiny little vials of water from rivers of the world that accompany tiny treasures that line the glass shelves.  Miniature frames with small photos of loved ones and dog tags from old furry friends are tucked in there too.  So it goes without saying that it was an all day affair with both of us laughing and crying remembering places and people.

I  suppose to some folks it looks like a nuisance, a  hodge-podge of silly tiny things, but to us it's a  lifetime of memories.  When we finally finished and stood there it was a good feeling, a sense of accomplishment but most of all it was a sentimental rush of emotion, the kind that leaves you exhausted.  We were pleased, even if most of the day we were up to our eyeballs in sand, sand and more sand.

26. Is it Mount Everest or Fools Hill?

Sometimes I wake up and think, "Well, what do you know, I woke up again."  The older I get the more astonished I am at things like that.  Some days it seems like Mount Everest looming in front of me.  Other days it's only Knob Hill.  Then there is my personal favorite and most frequented, "Fools Hill."  Bob's Daddy always said it was a long walk up Fools Hill and he was certainly right.  I wonder sometimes if one ever really reaches that particular summit.  Bob still really misses his Daddy.  He has been dead almost 40 years.  Way too early to lose your father or mother either for that matter.  Sad with anyone that you lose too soon.  

Unfortunately, you usually have to get a few years on you before you start thinking about things that you really want answers to and didn't know earlier that you were going to want them and what do you know, the one with the answers has gone to their Celestial Fandango.  Why does it take maturity to kindle the interest in your past.  Is it really going to make a difference in the rest of your life?  I think it just gives you some sort of peace to put together the pieces, like putting the last piece in the 1000 piece puzzle you have labored over for days.  The pleasure and satisfaction of completion, a job well done.  Then, strangely enough, you feel fine about taking it apart and putting it back in the box.  It's a paradox really, not totally necessary; the sun will still come up even if the last piece is missing.  Yet so satisfying when it's all there and complete.

We have to keep trying, I do know that.  We need to take the effort to listen to our elders.  They usually have a lot to say if we just listen.  I was out in the meadow this morning just looking and enjoying the beauty and sparkle of things after the over night rain.  One thing that caught my eye is the remnants of a very old apricot tree.  It seems that each year another part of it dies and needs to be trimmed.  But here it is telling me not to count it out just yet.  The few remaining healthy branches are leafed out and my guess is that we will have a few apricots, that is if we can beat the little red fox that has an equal appreciation for them.  We are fine with it if he does beat us to the punch as he can't go to the market and buy them.  My waistline tells me that I should share anyway.

 The iris and the lavender are shouting for my attention.  The Orange Sherbet is most beautiful with the rain drops shimmering.  At a moment like this I have almost forgotten my grumbling when cleaning the beds of the dried leaves.  For a few brief weeks they all wave gaily in the breeze happy to be unfurled and free.  My daddy is improving even if just a little each day and I have already asked him most of the things I've been curious about. I think his tenacity though, is telling me not to count him out just yet, that's good because I'd like to know the name of the skating rink in Iowa where he and my mom first met.

25. Life Gets in the Way

When you aren't looking, life gets in the way.  Our wonderful landlady is remodeling our little cottage.  Her very sweet son-in-law is doing all of the work.  He is amazingly versatile, competent and quick to boot!  We will have a laundry room and a much larger kitchen.  New cabinets in the kitchen plus one completely remodeled bathroom!  New siding outside and all new double-paned windows through out.  Did I mention replacing the plumbing? Our trickling faucets will soon be flowing fast enough to make the dish soap foam! 

It is dizzying, I can assure you.  She has always been a good person to rent from.  However, having been property owners ourselves, I must admit we are exceptional renters.  Prideful? Perhaps, but like most folks, we just like things looking nice.  It is, after all, where we live.  I learned many years ago that it is easier to keep the place at least tidy than it is to cry that someone saw it a mess. 

The moniker of Gopher Hill Cottage is well deserved.  The yard is full of gopher craters which makes it hard to mow, let alone walk on.  Bob, however, is persistent.  Every so often he fills the craters with dirt and trudges on.  The new self propelling "Cub Cadet" mower has really been a boon.  It at least crawls out of the holes and he is spared having to push it.  For some reason, known only to him, I suppose, he finds great satisfaction in mowing the property.  We have two large meadows and a very large yard, all of which were in a sad state when we moved in.  The previous renters were raised by wolves from all accounts.  Bob always digs with trepidation for fear of turning over a spade of dirt containing human remains.  They never paid the trash and when the out buildings were full, took to burying everything.

I must admit for all his hard work he has made the view from our living room window spectacular indeed!  He loves the iris and this is the time of year that he is paid in full for his endeavors.  I love to see them in the spring, but, and it is a big BUT, when they are in between blooming times they are the messiest things!  Plus, you have to remove only the completely dries leave because they derive nutrition from the leaves as they dry.  That leaves the beds in a messy state of affairs. Ah, well, I guess it's not really so bad for now they are really starting to produce those lovely blooms.

We are leaving our haven this morning to drive to Anaheim to see my dad.  He is in the hospital with pneumonia.  They say it isn't life threatening, but at 92 one is never quite sure. As you know, sometimes life or the lack of it gets in the way.

24. What would you pay for a ride?

We love living in the country.  To us it's pleasure is beyond explanation.  We weren't sure when we looked at the little cottage.  We had lived by the beach for so many years and had walked there many a morning.  There is something so relaxing listening to the rhythm of the waves, it's continuous sound soothing whatever  ails you.  We wondered if we would miss it just a little too much.  But, we decided to take a chance because we wanted to be somewhere a little close to both of our children.  Our son lives in Grover Beach, 45 minutes north and our daughter lived in Santa Barbara 45 minutes to the south.  So this seemed like the logical place.

After Bob had made sure that we could get at least satellite television and I had found out that Costco was only 17 miles away, we took the plunge and have never looked back.  The wonderful wildlife and the peaceful sound of the wind through the huge oak trees and the creek running on the other side of the road are equally as peaceful and soul soothing as the beach.  Perhaps even more so because there are so few people to contend with.  For this time in our lives it was one of life's nearly accidental life altering happenings.  One you reflect on and softly "Ahhhhh."

One of the few drawbacks is the preparations that must be done for fire season.  We knew when we moved here that there were going to be issues.  Response time for ambulance and fire were two of the more important.  Another is making lists to avoid forgetting something when we make the trek to town.  I can assure you we never waste left-overs.  This far out we don't go to dinner on the spur of the moment like we did living in town.  Sometimes Bob will say, "How about I take you to dinner tonight."  Now, about 9 a.m. that sounds like a grand idea.  The closer it gets to 4 p.m. though I usually say, "How about I cook, I'm pooped."  I feel good he asked and he feels good I decline.

The last few days we have been (mostly Bob and our son, Bud) clearing the large meadow above the house of brush and weeds.  An absolute annual necessity!  We had been hauling and raking and it was really warm so I made us some lemonade.  We were sitting on the hill relaxing for a few minutes watching Maggie down on the driveway.  She wears her collar for the invisible fence all of the time.  It usually keeps her contained with an audible beep and mild shock as she nears the wire.  But, bless her heart, she had watched us relax as long as she could.  The next thing we knew she had bolted through the air and across the wire, beeping and getting shocked all the way.  There she was happy and content sitting between us chewing some of Bob's ice.

We finished our lemonade and raked a little more and decided to call it a day.  After we descended the hill, I was standing at the front door calling her.  She sat and looked.  I rattled her treat jar.  She sat and looked.  Bob called.  She sat and looked.  I tried the treat jar again.  Still nothing.  "Watch this" Bob said.  "Get in the car."  We both went to the car and opened our doors.  We didn't even have to say a word.  She bolted through that invisible fence and was in the car in a matter of seconds.  We all have our price.  Her reward was a trip in the car to the mailbox.  We didn't have the heart to disappoint her.

So, yes, living in the country is one of the best moves we have ever made.  Relaxing and enjoying each other's company and deriving more pleasure than I could ever have imagined from one silly little Cocker Spaniel named Maggie.