How do you feel about moving? My family doesn’t typically move a lot. I lived in the same house all the years I was growing up. My parents moved once, after I left home and then my mom moved twice before she died, once to an apartment and then to my sister’s. When you move that infrequently, you can imagine that moving is a HUGE undertaking. Since leaving my three bedroom ranch house behind in Indiana, I’ve had a purpose to never let a living space practically bury me alive like that again. Maybe that explains my living in a 300 square foot efficiency apartment for five years, and yet, I STILL have a lot of stuff. Eventually I’d like to wind up like my Aunt Katherine. When she died in her 90’s, I think she had about 3 pieces of furniture and maybe two boxes of stuff, and that’s the way she wanted it. At about age 80, she started giving her stuff away and cutting back. Of course, she had a LOT of great-nieces and nephews to give her presents to, considering Uncle Frickie came from a family of about 12!
Anyway, after five years in my current abode, it’s time to move, and that’s a good thing, as Martha would say. Above are pics from my new apartment, not sure of the square footage, but it has TWO bedrooms and one heck of a walk-in closet which could almost serve as another bedroom! For the next two weeks, you’ll be seeing the moving chronicles here! Not that you really want to know that much about my move, but sometimes a girl just needs to blabber. That’s what blogs are for, right?!
The economy is trying to contract, in spite of the federal reserve bank, and along with everyone else, I am trying to do my part by spending less money. I’ve been fascinated to read in various blogs how people have just gotten fed up with too much – too much stuff, too much spending, too much eating out. In the process, I think people are rediscovering. For myself, I’ve fallen back in love with “sewing”. Not that I sew or ever sewed a lot, but it has something to do with the “idea” of sewing, that you can take an unformed piece of color and texture and turn it into something, anything, whatever you desire. My stay-at-home mother, who would have preferred to be a working mom, said that sewing was what helped her keep her sanity. She made most of my clothes until I was in my mid-20’s and I have fond memories of a lot of special outfits she made for me. This dress, designed to be worn over a plain black shift, was something she made for me after I left home. At the time, I had a hard time bringing myself to wear gray, but now, I am getting into this color. My winter decor focuses on neutrals – black, white, gray, brown with just a smidgen of red and pink, and I’ve loved hanging this special dress on my wall to remind me of mom every day. AND, it’s a free decoration! Does anyone else hang clothes on the wall to decorate?
Not working these days, I’ve had to be a little more careful with the budgeting, which in turn has made me appreciate the inexpensive little things that can really brighten your day. I call these things “cheap thrills”! I’ve enjoyed setting a pretty breakfast tray in the mornings and have found that for about $2 each, I can pick out pretty fabric at JoAnn’s and easily turn it into a tray mat. Also for February, I picked up this cute heart plate at Hobby Lobby.
I caucused at a local elementary school on Jan. 3. Before entering the school I tried to take some photos of the surrounding area. I live in a mixed area of very nice houses, starter homes and college student apartments. The one photo I didn’t get was of the trailer park where some local Hispanic men appear to live. That may have been significant, considering what happened later. As I entered the school, I was struck by what a neighborhood event the caucus was. The parking lot was full, but many people also walked to the school and even brought their children along to observe. Four years ago when I caucused here, the school was packed with around 300 people attending. 2008 brought around 480 eligible caucus voters and you could tell it was going to be a hot night as soon as you entered the door and saw the line of people waiting to register as first time participants.
Once everyone got into the gym it became clear that we wouldn’t all fit, at least for very long, and it would be impossible for anyone to move, and so the first surprise of the night was that all the Obama people were asked to move to the media center. Even though I was standing for Edwards, I was rather dismayed at the Obama people being singled out, but as they streamed out of the gym, it did become clear that they had more supporters than any one else. The second surprise – at the end of the first round, someone announced that Richardson only needed two more people in order to be viable..would anyone be willing to move to Richardson…and two people did! The horse trading continued and the Obama floor managers did come in and out to keep track of what was happening. As an Edwards supporter, I think I counted off as number 11 or 12 about four times until the final numbers settled down to the following: Obama 200 something, Edwards 102, Clinton 80 something and Richardson 80 something.
My mother died five years ago last Saturday..and my father, almost two years before that. What’s that saying…you can’t go home again? For me, that’s true now. I ran across these pictures the other day…I’ve labeled them “my mother’s house”. If you knew my parents, you would know that my mother never liked this house very much, built later in their lives, just the way my dad wanted it, too big for grandparents with no grandchildren near by perhaps. The birch tree, the gazebo, the special stone on the front of the house, these all speak of things my dad loved and enjoyed bringing into being. So why do I think of it as my mother’s house? Maybe it’s because she wound up living there last, or maybe it has to do with what most women know…a man may work and pay for the house, but it’s the woman who usually controls the inside. It’s a miracle marriages ever work. How do two different people raised in two different families ever come to an agreement on how to make a house their home? My husband and I could have lived with each other…it’s was the house that killed us. I thought it was his unwillingness to part with a single thing that was totally unacceptable. Looking back now though, my protestation mess was just as bad. Somehow, my mother and father compromised on their houses. Maybe it was because in their day, they were just glad to have someplace to live at all.
May Basket Day was BIG in my family! Even when we were past the age for making May Baskets, we made them anyway, sometimes out of wallpaper samples, sometimes with DQ containers and crepe paper. We filled them with popcorn, flowers, candy corn, and Mom’s divinity. Have you ever made divinity? Let me tell you, “It ain’t easy!” It’s one of those candies that you cook until it spins a thread. You can also use a candy thermometer, but that would be cheating. Sometimes, if you didn’t do it just right, you wind up with a sticky mess of corn syrup and eggs whites instead of the most heavenly, light, dry white fluff that melts in your mouth. I learned about never giving up from my mom. If she had a batch flop out on her, she just threw it out and started over again. Never, never, never, ever, give up! Get right back in there and try it again!! So in memory of mom, thanks to my sister who sent me this lovely basket of flowers for May Basket Day. Love you sis!