I am probably the least coordinated person I know. My track coach in High School gave me the tender, well-deserved, if slightly-politically-incorrect moniker of "Spazz", because while I was fast on the track, being asked to jump a four inch curb would leave me splattered on the ground - and my teammates howling to the side. My attempts at dancing are even more....interesting. Just find me at any wedding. My Macarena leaves my arms in Macrame. I have been known to Hokey-Pokey the eyes of any unfortunate who happened to be within a few yards of me. And my Electric Slide?? Looks more like Electrocution. So, it does seem ironic to me that so often I use the word "rhythm" as a metaphor for the way we live our lives. Just when it seems that life has calmed down to its own steady beat, sure enough, just like me on the dance floor, we get a bit tripped up - sometimes landing on our faces.
A year ago I was chronicling our time back on the mainland - time which we did not choose, but in retrospect, we saw God's mighty and merciful hand all over it! But it was the toughest trial of our lives together. Little did we know that it was a warm up for greater things.
It seems that I quite likely have cancer.
Last year, I started noticing a pain in my hip. It was consistent with arthritis, and given my history - such as doing all my running workouts barefoot...on concrete - it made sense. My favorite medical person in San Diego prescribed a strong anti-inflammatory, it worked, all was hunky, all was dory. Shortly toward the end of last year, the pain came back, along with weakness - but I attributed it to irritation on my joint. Since Don had no insurance at the time, and it wasn't that bad, we just moved on. By the time Don started his new job, got benefits, we knew that something was not quite right. I'll save the long and gories, but after tests and more tests, they found a tumor within the left femur (thigh bone, which according to Ezekiel, IS connected to the - HIP bone), plus another mass in soft tissue near the right pelvis. Neither of these belong there.
My orthopedist (who by the way is wonderful and sweet and kind and YOUNG - think of him as the Asian Doogie Hauser) has been so on top of this that I think I must be on speed dial. We are become good friends quite quickly. Anyway, he already has referred me to and chatted with the guy who is the top Orthopedic Oncologist in Hawaii. This means Don and I get a trip to O'ahu!! There are a couple more fun things here, but then late next week or the first part of the following, we'll be on way.
In the meantime...life is still so sweet. I have never been good at sitting still for more than a few minutes, and this won't be any different. I have the most amazing husband in husbandom. My kids (yes, the girls, too!!) and grands blow my socks off with how much they have blessed my life. We've shared tears, and I know that there are more ahead, but we also share lots more in laughs. So, how is this possible?? Well, since you asked....
I have a God who is endlessly merciful, and utterly perfect in His plans. God is sovereign. God is faithful. I may not even come close to EVER understand why He does some of the stuff He does, or allows some of the stuff he allows - but I haven't kicked up a fuss when he has chosen to give me the life that He has, or sacrificing His Son for me as He did. For you reading this who are believers, this is no news. I have been reading a lot of Psalms and a LOT of the last chapters of Job (38-42). For you reading who do not know the Lord, I encourage you to find a bible, and go to the book of Job. It is awesome.
I'm not ever going to say that I'm not a bit scared. I hate this. But I promised God my everything, and I can't hold back. He has now asked me to ride my own giant roller coaster (read previous entry, "Riding Colossus"), but He promises to be right there with me. He has promised Don, John, Greg, Kyle & Kristin the same thing - even though their rides will be different.
So, everyone...Hands in the air...here we go....
Friday, August 17, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Riding Colossus
We all know about roller coasters. Millions love to ride them. Others more sensible - such as myself - prefer to watch them while having feet planted firmly (and safely) on the ground. They are the star attractions in amusements parks, and usually have the longest lines of eager riders waiting to jump into trains of open cars that hurtle them across metal tracks, up steep hills, and down heart-stopping, stomach-lurching drops. Some have spirals and twists, and some have loops. Old school coasters begin with the links of cars being drawn slowly up the first steep hill, with the clackity-clackity of the gears beneath as the cars are ratcheted steadily upward until they reach the pinnacle - suspended for a moment, then all cars are pulled back to earth by gravity, veering off sharply mere feet above the ground. Other more modern rides have a rocket propulsion that shoots the riders (in their little cars) out like a circus clown from a cannon before spinning and looping the screaming occupants (in their little cars) on the tracks.
But then there's another kind: it's called "Life". I do believe that if roller coasters were around when Jesus was here, He would have used them in His parables. Yes, I know that He already knew there were going to be roller coasters, but if His disciples had a tough time grasping parables of things they knew such as farming and fishing, what the heck would they have done with a metaphor based on Matterhorn or Ninja? But our lives are metaphorical thrill rides. Like the literal roller coasters, each of us have a different set of hills and valleys and twists and turns. Some of us get through relatively smoothly, while others seem to go on a harrowing ride with such nightmarish drops that those watching can't believe that the rider doesn't go flying off into space. At times, our coasters are in the dark, like "Space Mountain". Other times we can see the giant loops, like "Montezuma's Revenge". And then there's the feeling of dangling out there like the aptly named "Scream". Unlike those coasters in amusement parks and carnivals, however, is that each of us is in the front car, and it's only suited for one human being - but a place for a Savior, should we invite Him alongside. The other unique and extraordinary thing about our life rides, is that God has given us the chance to sit in any of the chase cars behind another in their own coaster - as many as we want for as long as we want, and without leaving ours.
A year ago, I was on my own particular brand of coaster, with Don in tandem, as we were found ourselves in a place we did not want to be under circumstances we didn't like because of situations beyond our control. We each had those who rode with us from time-to-time, but often folks were so caught up in hanging on in their own spirals that they had to move off for a while. But I had a friend on Maui who always seemed to be right behind me. Juli reminded me of how I wasn't alone as she pointed out Jesus. She would then make me laugh like a fool until it all felt okay. It wasn't that she didn't have her own crazy ride going, as a wife, mother, business woman (3 separate businesses, no less!!), and full time employee at a Maui resort golf course. But Juli never begged off, staying right behind me until Don and I returned home. In the months that followed, Juli and I rode on each others roller coasters from time to time, but since it was mostly the ordinary ups and downs, we didn't have such a need for the company.
In Southern California there is a monster coaster by the name of "Colossus", a giant old school wooden ride that dominates the skyline of Magic Mountain. What makes this unusual is that there are two tracks, with two separate fast moving trains. In April, Juli found herself shot into her own Colossus, as Willy, her husband of twelve years, was diagnosed with cancer. This wife and mother of three young children was strapped into this ride of breakneck speeds. There would be occasional stretches of the slow ascent, the ominous sound of her train clicking upwards as they waited for results, pain relief, treatments, and the medical professionals that would bring them. Juli's husband and kids each rode their own harrowing track, but Juli's had few more twists and turns as she tried to juggle her kids' and husband's needs, her job, and battling her fear of the unknown ride ahead. But she knew about the same car that ran beside her, with only the One rider. Juli knew that God was there. In the way that only God can do, He was also on the seat beside her - but God, being a gentleman, would only be there at her request.
In the cars that followed Juli on her harrowing roller coaster were friends and loved ones who could do nothing more than support her from behind. Many jumped on right away, but then jumped off when it became too scary, too painful, or their own roller coaster ride demanded so much that they had nothing left to share. Others watched from a distance, too nervous to step on. Still others offered to ride along - but only if Juli rode her coaster as they thought she should. None of these are bad people, they just couldn't do it. And even when there were those who were willing, Juli still rode alone with none beside her accept the lone rider in the car next to hers.
It didn't take long for it to be apparent that the ride would not be a long one for her husband. On Mother's Day, when most moms were brunching and lunching and receiving their well-deserved accolades, Juli was rushing the rapidly weakening Willy to the hospital. The doctors on Maui determined the best idea was to fly the two of them to O'ahu. As the news became more grim, Juli's husband became more calm and content, while she, as she put it, became a "blubbering mess." I pointed out that Willy knew he was going to get off his coaster very soon, while she was strapped in to her accelerating ride because of her love for him and the vows that she took. After a few days, Juli and her husband came back to Maui. His ride was leveling out and slowing down, while hers was going up a slow, terrifying hill. And when Willy's ride came to an end, and his Savior gathered him gently away, Juli plunged down the steepest, most terrifying hill yet - yet neither Juli nor Willy had any fear during their separate changes. They each knew that Jesus was there.
Today we said goodbye to Willy in our formal, unified way, yet each has done so on their own. Many have jumped into the chase cars behind Juli in her seemingly runaway roller coaster, helping with food, kids, and various needs. But after a while, many will have to beg off again, as life takes over and the crisis fades. But many will not. They will continue to love and support Juli, riding along behind, doing what they can to make her life easier. Riding behind is the best we can do. But Juli knows, and leans on, the lone rider in the train on the next track - who is the same companion in the same car, and by her side...always.
I'm adding a post script, which is almost a confessional. I began this a few (VERY few) weeks ago when Willy first was diagnosed and Juli described her life as a roller coaster. She still does, in fact, but not with words. I'll ask how she is, and she just gives me a wry grin and moves her hand up and down like the train on coaster tracks. I had intended to finish this, and describe what I saw as they went through the difficult treatment process - but I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I got a call from our pastor's wife, and mutual friend early one Sunday morning, I knew that God had wanted me to wait, because the story had to finish before I could. But after that...after that, I still struggled. I told Don I had never written anything that meant more to me, except for my mom's obituary and eulogy. I wanted to honor my dear friend, and share in a way that might be meaningful to some.
I also have the chance to tell you more how much these two were the very picture of sacrificial love during their last days together here on earth. When Willy was in the hospital on Maui, she drove every morning to the hospital and didn't return until late - forty-five to fifty minutes each way. When he was in O'ahu, she refused to leave his side to shower or sleep in a real bed (two or three hard chairs arranged was all she had). Their daughter, Seraya, was the Lana'i Princess for the Lei Day celebration at her school the Friday after they flew to O'ahu, and Willy insisted that he be home to watch his only daughter for this once-in-a-lifetime event. The following weekend, Seraya had a softball tournament in back on O'ahu, and Willy again insisted - this time that Juli go with their daughter for this fun weekend of competition and fellowship. It was the Saturday of that weekend that the Lord beckoned Willy home. There was no selfishness to be seen. Willy wanted to give this final gift to his beloved wife, and Juli had the selfless grace to accept it. They LIVED their vows!
Don and I were blessed beyond measure to be close witnesses to such an intimate part of a family's life. Through it all, their home was never a place of foreboding and death, but a place of joy. There were tears, to be sure, but there was more laughter. And there are more tears in store, as Juli and her children work to discover, as she calls it, their "new normal", but their faith is unshakable.
And that's all I have to say, now. I just wanted you to know...
But then there's another kind: it's called "Life". I do believe that if roller coasters were around when Jesus was here, He would have used them in His parables. Yes, I know that He already knew there were going to be roller coasters, but if His disciples had a tough time grasping parables of things they knew such as farming and fishing, what the heck would they have done with a metaphor based on Matterhorn or Ninja? But our lives are metaphorical thrill rides. Like the literal roller coasters, each of us have a different set of hills and valleys and twists and turns. Some of us get through relatively smoothly, while others seem to go on a harrowing ride with such nightmarish drops that those watching can't believe that the rider doesn't go flying off into space. At times, our coasters are in the dark, like "Space Mountain". Other times we can see the giant loops, like "Montezuma's Revenge". And then there's the feeling of dangling out there like the aptly named "Scream". Unlike those coasters in amusement parks and carnivals, however, is that each of us is in the front car, and it's only suited for one human being - but a place for a Savior, should we invite Him alongside. The other unique and extraordinary thing about our life rides, is that God has given us the chance to sit in any of the chase cars behind another in their own coaster - as many as we want for as long as we want, and without leaving ours.
A year ago, I was on my own particular brand of coaster, with Don in tandem, as we were found ourselves in a place we did not want to be under circumstances we didn't like because of situations beyond our control. We each had those who rode with us from time-to-time, but often folks were so caught up in hanging on in their own spirals that they had to move off for a while. But I had a friend on Maui who always seemed to be right behind me. Juli reminded me of how I wasn't alone as she pointed out Jesus. She would then make me laugh like a fool until it all felt okay. It wasn't that she didn't have her own crazy ride going, as a wife, mother, business woman (3 separate businesses, no less!!), and full time employee at a Maui resort golf course. But Juli never begged off, staying right behind me until Don and I returned home. In the months that followed, Juli and I rode on each others roller coasters from time to time, but since it was mostly the ordinary ups and downs, we didn't have such a need for the company.
In Southern California there is a monster coaster by the name of "Colossus", a giant old school wooden ride that dominates the skyline of Magic Mountain. What makes this unusual is that there are two tracks, with two separate fast moving trains. In April, Juli found herself shot into her own Colossus, as Willy, her husband of twelve years, was diagnosed with cancer. This wife and mother of three young children was strapped into this ride of breakneck speeds. There would be occasional stretches of the slow ascent, the ominous sound of her train clicking upwards as they waited for results, pain relief, treatments, and the medical professionals that would bring them. Juli's husband and kids each rode their own harrowing track, but Juli's had few more twists and turns as she tried to juggle her kids' and husband's needs, her job, and battling her fear of the unknown ride ahead. But she knew about the same car that ran beside her, with only the One rider. Juli knew that God was there. In the way that only God can do, He was also on the seat beside her - but God, being a gentleman, would only be there at her request.
In the cars that followed Juli on her harrowing roller coaster were friends and loved ones who could do nothing more than support her from behind. Many jumped on right away, but then jumped off when it became too scary, too painful, or their own roller coaster ride demanded so much that they had nothing left to share. Others watched from a distance, too nervous to step on. Still others offered to ride along - but only if Juli rode her coaster as they thought she should. None of these are bad people, they just couldn't do it. And even when there were those who were willing, Juli still rode alone with none beside her accept the lone rider in the car next to hers.
It didn't take long for it to be apparent that the ride would not be a long one for her husband. On Mother's Day, when most moms were brunching and lunching and receiving their well-deserved accolades, Juli was rushing the rapidly weakening Willy to the hospital. The doctors on Maui determined the best idea was to fly the two of them to O'ahu. As the news became more grim, Juli's husband became more calm and content, while she, as she put it, became a "blubbering mess." I pointed out that Willy knew he was going to get off his coaster very soon, while she was strapped in to her accelerating ride because of her love for him and the vows that she took. After a few days, Juli and her husband came back to Maui. His ride was leveling out and slowing down, while hers was going up a slow, terrifying hill. And when Willy's ride came to an end, and his Savior gathered him gently away, Juli plunged down the steepest, most terrifying hill yet - yet neither Juli nor Willy had any fear during their separate changes. They each knew that Jesus was there.
Today we said goodbye to Willy in our formal, unified way, yet each has done so on their own. Many have jumped into the chase cars behind Juli in her seemingly runaway roller coaster, helping with food, kids, and various needs. But after a while, many will have to beg off again, as life takes over and the crisis fades. But many will not. They will continue to love and support Juli, riding along behind, doing what they can to make her life easier. Riding behind is the best we can do. But Juli knows, and leans on, the lone rider in the train on the next track - who is the same companion in the same car, and by her side...always.
I'm adding a post script, which is almost a confessional. I began this a few (VERY few) weeks ago when Willy first was diagnosed and Juli described her life as a roller coaster. She still does, in fact, but not with words. I'll ask how she is, and she just gives me a wry grin and moves her hand up and down like the train on coaster tracks. I had intended to finish this, and describe what I saw as they went through the difficult treatment process - but I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I got a call from our pastor's wife, and mutual friend early one Sunday morning, I knew that God had wanted me to wait, because the story had to finish before I could. But after that...after that, I still struggled. I told Don I had never written anything that meant more to me, except for my mom's obituary and eulogy. I wanted to honor my dear friend, and share in a way that might be meaningful to some.
I also have the chance to tell you more how much these two were the very picture of sacrificial love during their last days together here on earth. When Willy was in the hospital on Maui, she drove every morning to the hospital and didn't return until late - forty-five to fifty minutes each way. When he was in O'ahu, she refused to leave his side to shower or sleep in a real bed (two or three hard chairs arranged was all she had). Their daughter, Seraya, was the Lana'i Princess for the Lei Day celebration at her school the Friday after they flew to O'ahu, and Willy insisted that he be home to watch his only daughter for this once-in-a-lifetime event. The following weekend, Seraya had a softball tournament in back on O'ahu, and Willy again insisted - this time that Juli go with their daughter for this fun weekend of competition and fellowship. It was the Saturday of that weekend that the Lord beckoned Willy home. There was no selfishness to be seen. Willy wanted to give this final gift to his beloved wife, and Juli had the selfless grace to accept it. They LIVED their vows!
Don and I were blessed beyond measure to be close witnesses to such an intimate part of a family's life. Through it all, their home was never a place of foreboding and death, but a place of joy. There were tears, to be sure, but there was more laughter. And there are more tears in store, as Juli and her children work to discover, as she calls it, their "new normal", but their faith is unshakable.
And that's all I have to say, now. I just wanted you to know...
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Soccer Christians
I consider that I am very blessed to have had some remarkable pastors during my Christian walk. Most of these guys use metaphors and stories from their own experience, and since Jesus was very big on such metaphors, it seems appropriate.
The pastor who teaches me now, is my dear friend, Steve. Steve loves to surf. He came here almost thirty years ago to do just that. So, lots of his metaphors and examples have a slightly surfy tone. He uses "Gnarly" and "outa control" to describe our daily trials. The senior pastor of the church we called home back in San Diego used to play football, so most of his stories have gridiron flavor. He used to challenge his congregation to be "football Christians" and not "basketball Christians". His explanation was that while basketball players need some time off for an injury such as a twisted ankle or an eyelash in their eye, football player will keep on battling while their arm is dangling by a mere thread of a tendon and their head is bouncing down the field - still inside the helmet, of course. His rather biased point? We can't give up or call a time out simply because the battle got tough. We have to play hurt.
Well, Pastor Miles, I'll see your football Christians, and Steve, your tumble-in-a-wave Christians, and raise you both some soccer Christians! I'm not talking your local AYSO adorable little keiki soccer, but the big-time, world class folks who run around a ginormous field for 80 minute halves - and if there is a time out for any reason, that time is tacked on to the end of the regulation period! Just because there is going to be soccer played during the required amount of time!! Good grief!! But these men and women are legit. They don't stop, and they keep running up and down chasing after the ball, hitting it off of every part of their body expect their hands (they hit it with their HEAD!!!), while colliding with all the other players who are running after the ball. They just keep going - kind of like if the Energizer Bunny were into MMA.
I want to be a soccer Christian. I want to keep on going despite being beaten-up and bouncing things off my head and feeling like I just can't go on. I want to be like that.
A year ago, Don and I were finishing the last of our packing, taking the last walk down to the beach (at 2 a.m.), and taking the last drive to the airport. We were in the most brutal game we had ever experienced and we just wanted to quit - but God is so faithful and would not let us. After five months, the Lord brought us back home and it felt like the game was finally going to ease up - but it was only halftime. We're still getting knocked around a bit, but God is still the same faithful Father who protected us from every harmful thing - but not every painful thing. At times when we are too tired to go on, God refreshes us through His Word, and through those around us who love Him - and us. When we get discouraged because we are not achieving the goals we wanted, we remember that few players actually get the ball in the net.
Yes, I want to be a soccer Christian. I want to battle and fight and keep going, even if I am bloodied and bruised. Because, just like all soccer games, eventually the game does end...and Jesus will take us home...
The pastor who teaches me now, is my dear friend, Steve. Steve loves to surf. He came here almost thirty years ago to do just that. So, lots of his metaphors and examples have a slightly surfy tone. He uses "Gnarly" and "outa control" to describe our daily trials. The senior pastor of the church we called home back in San Diego used to play football, so most of his stories have gridiron flavor. He used to challenge his congregation to be "football Christians" and not "basketball Christians". His explanation was that while basketball players need some time off for an injury such as a twisted ankle or an eyelash in their eye, football player will keep on battling while their arm is dangling by a mere thread of a tendon and their head is bouncing down the field - still inside the helmet, of course. His rather biased point? We can't give up or call a time out simply because the battle got tough. We have to play hurt.
Well, Pastor Miles, I'll see your football Christians, and Steve, your tumble-in-a-wave Christians, and raise you both some soccer Christians! I'm not talking your local AYSO adorable little keiki soccer, but the big-time, world class folks who run around a ginormous field for 80 minute halves - and if there is a time out for any reason, that time is tacked on to the end of the regulation period! Just because there is going to be soccer played during the required amount of time!! Good grief!! But these men and women are legit. They don't stop, and they keep running up and down chasing after the ball, hitting it off of every part of their body expect their hands (they hit it with their HEAD!!!), while colliding with all the other players who are running after the ball. They just keep going - kind of like if the Energizer Bunny were into MMA.
I want to be a soccer Christian. I want to keep on going despite being beaten-up and bouncing things off my head and feeling like I just can't go on. I want to be like that.
A year ago, Don and I were finishing the last of our packing, taking the last walk down to the beach (at 2 a.m.), and taking the last drive to the airport. We were in the most brutal game we had ever experienced and we just wanted to quit - but God is so faithful and would not let us. After five months, the Lord brought us back home and it felt like the game was finally going to ease up - but it was only halftime. We're still getting knocked around a bit, but God is still the same faithful Father who protected us from every harmful thing - but not every painful thing. At times when we are too tired to go on, God refreshes us through His Word, and through those around us who love Him - and us. When we get discouraged because we are not achieving the goals we wanted, we remember that few players actually get the ball in the net.
Yes, I want to be a soccer Christian. I want to battle and fight and keep going, even if I am bloodied and bruised. Because, just like all soccer games, eventually the game does end...and Jesus will take us home...
Monday, April 2, 2012
A Good Life
Have you ever noticed how when someone says "I have no excuse", it is often followed by "but" and then an entire litany of words that sound suspiciously like excuses. Well, I have gotten waaaay behind in my writing. No excuses. But...
It has been crazy busy around here, trying to get in a rhythm, finding room for our things, and preparing for the most exciting event since our return in September. I also spent much of the month of February sick/recovering for being sick. hmmmmm.... what else can I think of...?? At any rate, I have been very neglectful of my loyal reader.
Where were we when I interrupted myself with laziness and excuses...??? Oh, yeah - we had just gotten our master bed built, but we were still trying to squeeze in here. Our unit is actually pretty cute, but in many ways, it is like Main Street, USA in Disneyland. Did you know that Main Street buildings are about 3/4 scale!?!? That is supposed to make it more accessible for little ones, and way higher on the "awww!" scale. The same is apparently true of our home. I discovered this while trying to put our dishes and pots and pans and potholders and placemats and food into a kitchen that at first blush seems to be quite spacious, but closer examination reveals more of the dollhouse effect. Eventually, we got things in, but it isn't exactly efficient when it comes to that whole kitchen triangle thing. It works, though, and it is a place to cook food.
Eating said food is even cozier. In our place in Ka'anapali, we had a large round glass table top, courtesy of our landlords, which made the table seat 6-7 quite comfortably. Since they wanted to keep it when we moved out (sheesh!), we then just had our round table which seats 4 people comfortably - 5 if you don't mind having someone's elbows in your plate-to-mouth line. We also have a couple of bar chairs that fir perfectly at the kitchen island. This, however, puts the back of one of the bar chairs right up against the back of one of the dining chairs -when they are both pulled in as far as they will go up to their assigned surface. But, we manage quite nicely - unless we have more than two people over for dinner. In our little dining area we also have our china cabinet - which is actually a very, very cool teak linen cabinet - and our bamboo bundle base/pumice top side table. Next to that, in the corner, is our tea light candle screen. Over the bamboo table hangs our redwood branch. copper verdigris cup fountain. In the adjacent corner is our iron votive candle sconce. The effect, when looking at the whole scene in this 10'x8' space, is that of a boutique furniture store window where they cram in as many pieces and accessories as they can. No one in real life would have all this stuff in such a small space. ummmmm...yes, they would...
The one remaining issue for us, once we covered all available walls with art, was assembling our Ikea white iron bed, which has also traveled with us from San Diego. In our rush to get out of the Ka'anapali house, the hardware for this bed had also been set in something other than a box marked "Guest Bdrm". One of the great things about Ikea (and there are LOTS of things I love about Ikea - I miss that store more than a few people I know) is that they have kind of the same funky hardware for many designs, and they keep the same stock for many years. I think they discontinued our bed and hardware about 10 minutes before we discovered that we didn't have the odd assortment of strange nuts and bolts that are so very Ikea. Don began a few weeks (literally) of phone calls to Ikea and visits to our local hardware store to find something, anything that might fit the bill. He finally had success with one of the many polite Ikea folks with whom he'd been chatting, and they sent us the appropriate assortment of hardware. We thought. And they thought. We were both wrong. The very heavy package arrived full of all kinds of chrome treasures - none of them right. We were to the point where we were ready to McGyver this thing with toothpicks and zip-ties when we realized that there was still one unopened box with the ubiquitous "misc kitch uten" tag on the top. We were looking for a plastic bag with all the various nuts and bolts with the shapes and sizes that could only be Swedish, but there were no plastic bags at all - just a few random plastic contain- wait a minute.... EUREKA AND PRAISE THE LORD!!! So, we were finally in business to get our guest room finished...sorta....
You know how every kitchen in America has THAT drawer that catches everything from take-out menus to golf tees to matchbox cars?? The inimitable Junk Drawer - or the politically correct term: multi-tasking-accessory-under-counter-sliding- compartment. Anyway, our guest room had become the junk drawer of this place, sacrificing itself so the remainder of our home could look tidy. We had stacks of photos (I mean many and large stacks) from my mom's prolific collection, random vases and decor looking for a home, and about 27,000 hangers left over from my clothes purging (never, EVER get rid of a good hanger!!). Add to this, all the dismembered bed parts, including iron headboard, footboard, crosspieces and braces, mattress and boxspring. Since we had put Don's chest of drawers, another 3-drawers chest, and a television on a tv stand, we had to either move them or move around them. We chose the latter, since moving all the other extraneous things from the black hole into our previously cute-and-tidy living room had not only worn us out, but had taken all available space.
Fast forward to a completed bed, replete with all the linens and pillows and all things Martha. I admired for a bit - and then we had to move all those things back into the space - but now I could put some things UNDER the bed. Still, it was done. Don's clothes and shoes are in that closet, along with all the grandkiddies' books and toys. I was now able to put all kinds of framed pictures, books, and eclectic decor on the high shelves already in the room. With the completion of this space, we finally began to breathe in the comfort of home.
A year ago, we were both in the darkest place, preparing numbly to go back to the mainland for what we prayed was only a few months - but in truth, we had no idea how long the Lord would keep us there. Now, we are here in a home that is just a bit larger than one-third the size of the home in San Diego that we moved from two-and-a-half years ago. Instead of birds and wind through the trees, we have cars on the highway behind us (RIGHT behind us) and cars in the parking lot in front of us. Our tubs are old and rusty. The carpet is not-so-nice. A couple of the lights only work if they are in the mood. But this is our home - a home God chose for us. This past Sunday was Easter, and as I sat with around six hundred other folks at our church service at Wahikuli Beach Park, I was so overwhelmed by the joy of this day of perfect reconciliation, enhanced by the knowledge that this merciful God had returned us to this beautiful island home.
Don and I have a very different life than the one we enjoyed for many years. We can't go golfing on a whim, and eating out has returned to being the luxury it once was, and always should have been. We share my rather disheveled blue jeep wrangler. But we look around and remember how faithful and true and generous our Heavenly Father has been and always will be.
Yes...it is a very good life...
It has been crazy busy around here, trying to get in a rhythm, finding room for our things, and preparing for the most exciting event since our return in September. I also spent much of the month of February sick/recovering for being sick. hmmmmm.... what else can I think of...?? At any rate, I have been very neglectful of my loyal reader.
Where were we when I interrupted myself with laziness and excuses...??? Oh, yeah - we had just gotten our master bed built, but we were still trying to squeeze in here. Our unit is actually pretty cute, but in many ways, it is like Main Street, USA in Disneyland. Did you know that Main Street buildings are about 3/4 scale!?!? That is supposed to make it more accessible for little ones, and way higher on the "awww!" scale. The same is apparently true of our home. I discovered this while trying to put our dishes and pots and pans and potholders and placemats and food into a kitchen that at first blush seems to be quite spacious, but closer examination reveals more of the dollhouse effect. Eventually, we got things in, but it isn't exactly efficient when it comes to that whole kitchen triangle thing. It works, though, and it is a place to cook food.
Eating said food is even cozier. In our place in Ka'anapali, we had a large round glass table top, courtesy of our landlords, which made the table seat 6-7 quite comfortably. Since they wanted to keep it when we moved out (sheesh!), we then just had our round table which seats 4 people comfortably - 5 if you don't mind having someone's elbows in your plate-to-mouth line. We also have a couple of bar chairs that fir perfectly at the kitchen island. This, however, puts the back of one of the bar chairs right up against the back of one of the dining chairs -when they are both pulled in as far as they will go up to their assigned surface. But, we manage quite nicely - unless we have more than two people over for dinner. In our little dining area we also have our china cabinet - which is actually a very, very cool teak linen cabinet - and our bamboo bundle base/pumice top side table. Next to that, in the corner, is our tea light candle screen. Over the bamboo table hangs our redwood branch. copper verdigris cup fountain. In the adjacent corner is our iron votive candle sconce. The effect, when looking at the whole scene in this 10'x8' space, is that of a boutique furniture store window where they cram in as many pieces and accessories as they can. No one in real life would have all this stuff in such a small space. ummmmm...yes, they would...
The one remaining issue for us, once we covered all available walls with art, was assembling our Ikea white iron bed, which has also traveled with us from San Diego. In our rush to get out of the Ka'anapali house, the hardware for this bed had also been set in something other than a box marked "Guest Bdrm". One of the great things about Ikea (and there are LOTS of things I love about Ikea - I miss that store more than a few people I know) is that they have kind of the same funky hardware for many designs, and they keep the same stock for many years. I think they discontinued our bed and hardware about 10 minutes before we discovered that we didn't have the odd assortment of strange nuts and bolts that are so very Ikea. Don began a few weeks (literally) of phone calls to Ikea and visits to our local hardware store to find something, anything that might fit the bill. He finally had success with one of the many polite Ikea folks with whom he'd been chatting, and they sent us the appropriate assortment of hardware. We thought. And they thought. We were both wrong. The very heavy package arrived full of all kinds of chrome treasures - none of them right. We were to the point where we were ready to McGyver this thing with toothpicks and zip-ties when we realized that there was still one unopened box with the ubiquitous "misc kitch uten" tag on the top. We were looking for a plastic bag with all the various nuts and bolts with the shapes and sizes that could only be Swedish, but there were no plastic bags at all - just a few random plastic contain- wait a minute.... EUREKA AND PRAISE THE LORD!!! So, we were finally in business to get our guest room finished...sorta....
You know how every kitchen in America has THAT drawer that catches everything from take-out menus to golf tees to matchbox cars?? The inimitable Junk Drawer - or the politically correct term: multi-tasking-accessory-under-counter-sliding- compartment. Anyway, our guest room had become the junk drawer of this place, sacrificing itself so the remainder of our home could look tidy. We had stacks of photos (I mean many and large stacks) from my mom's prolific collection, random vases and decor looking for a home, and about 27,000 hangers left over from my clothes purging (never, EVER get rid of a good hanger!!). Add to this, all the dismembered bed parts, including iron headboard, footboard, crosspieces and braces, mattress and boxspring. Since we had put Don's chest of drawers, another 3-drawers chest, and a television on a tv stand, we had to either move them or move around them. We chose the latter, since moving all the other extraneous things from the black hole into our previously cute-and-tidy living room had not only worn us out, but had taken all available space.
Fast forward to a completed bed, replete with all the linens and pillows and all things Martha. I admired for a bit - and then we had to move all those things back into the space - but now I could put some things UNDER the bed. Still, it was done. Don's clothes and shoes are in that closet, along with all the grandkiddies' books and toys. I was now able to put all kinds of framed pictures, books, and eclectic decor on the high shelves already in the room. With the completion of this space, we finally began to breathe in the comfort of home.
A year ago, we were both in the darkest place, preparing numbly to go back to the mainland for what we prayed was only a few months - but in truth, we had no idea how long the Lord would keep us there. Now, we are here in a home that is just a bit larger than one-third the size of the home in San Diego that we moved from two-and-a-half years ago. Instead of birds and wind through the trees, we have cars on the highway behind us (RIGHT behind us) and cars in the parking lot in front of us. Our tubs are old and rusty. The carpet is not-so-nice. A couple of the lights only work if they are in the mood. But this is our home - a home God chose for us. This past Sunday was Easter, and as I sat with around six hundred other folks at our church service at Wahikuli Beach Park, I was so overwhelmed by the joy of this day of perfect reconciliation, enhanced by the knowledge that this merciful God had returned us to this beautiful island home.
Don and I have a very different life than the one we enjoyed for many years. We can't go golfing on a whim, and eating out has returned to being the luxury it once was, and always should have been. We share my rather disheveled blue jeep wrangler. But we look around and remember how faithful and true and generous our Heavenly Father has been and always will be.
Yes...it is a very good life...
Friday, February 17, 2012
Napili, Part 2 - About a Bed
so... where were we... Ah, yes. We had just found the hardware for our big bed - a bed in which we had not slept for over a year. I should, at this point, give a more accurate description of the Master Suite. I even broke out my tape measure so you can make a scale visual aid, should you so desire.
The overall dimensions of the bedroom are 13'x10'. One wall has a large window, that is 8' across on the 10' wall. The other 10' side has the bathroom door, a small linen closet - which I have now redefined as my shoe/purse/sunglasses closet, and the when the bedroom door is opened, the door is against that same wall. The 13' wall opposite the entrance to the room is the only bare wall. The other 13' wall has the door to the room, plus a wall closet that takes up the remainder of the length. The closet is actually recessed in 18" - which proved to be a lifesaver. So, our bedroom furniture is big. Really big. We acquired back in San Diego when we had ample space to absorb it. The two main space-hogs are the bed and a large armoire that houses the television and two large drawers of my clothing. This beast is 27" deep, and 43" wide. I can't do math, but even I could tell at a glance that there was nowhere for this behemoth to go - except directly in front of the wall closet, thus taking advantage of the 18" recess. Our Master bed would be assembled to fit against the opposite wall. This creature of our comfort is 7' 8" long, 6' 2" wide, with a 7' headboard. Only two of the three 3-drawer chests - measuring 30"x19" - were going to make it in the room, with the third going to live in the guest room with Don's 5-drawer chest.
Having done as much math as I could handle without my ears blowing off the side of my head, the process of assembling our bed began. When I designed this bed, I was a huge fan of TLC's "Trading Spaces". I had also grown up watching my dad make all kinds of things in his garage workshop. This, I concluded, was enough training for me to design, engineer, and construct a massive bed. Before I continue, I must tell you this: while I, as a writer and general smart mouth, have never met a hyperbole with which I have not had an instant love-connection, the recounting of the assembly involved here has not a bit of exaggeration...I'm rather embarrassed to say. So, here are the components for the uber-bed (tropical edition): Headboard: 5 - upholstered panels, 2 - 2 3'x6' plywood panels, 3 - 6' lengths of 1"x2", 4 -7' lengths of 1"x2", 2 - 7' bamboo poles (5" diameter). That's just the headboard. The platform bed has so many different parts that I won't list them all. Suffice to say that after this, I am now an honorary Ikea furniture designer and instruction writer.
There is a particular scientific measure used by experts when evaluating the ease versus difficulty of any given project: the level of frequency and stupidity of the arguments between the assemblers. I think Don and I reached the "I'm-rubber-you're-glue" level of domestic debate before this thing was finally put together. We had no written instructions, just a bunch of arrows and names and numbers on each part, plus a bag of hardware with no "bolt-A-goes-into-Hole-B" type directions. We also had pictures that we had taken as we were dissembling this beautiful monstrosity a year before - but we had no idea where these helpful visual aids might be. But my loving-yet-jinxish husband proclaimed "I remember how it goes. It's not that hard", thus dooming us to be stuck in furniture-building purgatory until the Chargers win a Super Bowl. But God is endlessly merciful. And Jesus was a carpenter. This is the only explanation I have for the bed being built and ready for mattresses.
If you have ever handled a king-sized mattress and boxspring set, you know that they are big and unwieldy in the best of circumstances. We weren't even a blip on the best-of-circumstance radar. Not only did we have to maneuver two rigid twin-sized boxsprings through our super skinny hallway, bend the unbendable around a ninety degree corner, but we had to lift them up and over the monkeypod side and footboards of the bed - WITHOUT touching said boards. These were attached to the platform, but they weren't exactly welded on. We had to do all this twisting and lifting and placing while also not smashing fingers. Boxsprings on, we now moved to getting the big mattress that my tired body was already screaming for. While this beast did not have the flexibility issues of the boxsprings, it was actually harder to move because it was heavy heavy heavy and had worse posture than a gawky 15-year-old after a growth spurt. The thing flopped and sagged as we tried more than once to convince it to just cooperate and get into the room, and then jump itself into proper position. Alas, our pleas did not work, and we were left to wrestle this slouchy giant rectangle onto the platform - with only 17" between the armoire and the footboard to move and shimmy around. Eventually, we managed to wrestle the beast onto its rightful spot on top of the boxsprings. At this point, my beloved was ready to just call it a night and do a face plant onto the now fully assembled - albeit, undressed -bed. I, on the other hand, wanted my bed to be completely dressed and coifed and ready for my tired, yet grateful, frame.
I need to jaunt off this path for a moment, if you don't mind. Well, I'm jaunting, whether you mind or not. When we moved into the little condo In Ka'anapali Shores in December of 2010, we discovered quickly that the bed, while large, had the relative comfort of of concrete slab. In order to make it more comfy, we bought one of those squishy astronauty miracle foam toppers from Costco. Cool. When we left for the mainland in April of 2011, we ran out of storage space, as well as time, in our haste to get out. We left a few things there - a few pots and pans, Don's elegant bathrobe (from Nordstrom, no less - but Don said he didn't need it anyway), and this mattress topper on the bed. Don was very confident that all would be there when we returned - even though at that time, we had no idea when that would be. When we returned five months later, Don still had the key to the place, so we made the quick trip to retrieve what was ours. It was very quick. Oh, the key worked with no problem, even though there was no real need to lock it. The place had been stripped utterly. I guess since they weren't going to get back money from us in the form of rent (refer back to last springs blogs), they took it in goods. Of course, the condition of the furniture and supplies meant that they made enough to pay the homeowner's fees for about a week and a half. But we walked in to a bare naked place and just snooped around. My pots and pans - including a couple of Calphalon skillets - were gone, but in the bathroom were some first aid and miscellaneous OTC medicines, and in the closet were Don's bathrobe and (TA-DA!) the squishy mattress topper!! Of course, this now meant we had to get the bathrobe and the squishy mattress topper into the back of the miniature Subaru SUV that we had rented for our move. But, we retrieved it - Praise God! And now, we had our bed upon which it could lay...ahhh...
So, whipped though we were, we managed to put on our squishy topper, quilted cover, silky soft bottom sheet, silky soft top sheet...and that's all. After all, we live in Maui. But we slept as well and as snugly as we had in over a year. Our bedroom with more furniture than floor was now our little cocoonish space, and we praised God for it.
As we come to the end of this entry, you may ask yourself if you have just read an entire blog about a bed. Yes, yes you have.
Deal with it.
The overall dimensions of the bedroom are 13'x10'. One wall has a large window, that is 8' across on the 10' wall. The other 10' side has the bathroom door, a small linen closet - which I have now redefined as my shoe/purse/sunglasses closet, and the when the bedroom door is opened, the door is against that same wall. The 13' wall opposite the entrance to the room is the only bare wall. The other 13' wall has the door to the room, plus a wall closet that takes up the remainder of the length. The closet is actually recessed in 18" - which proved to be a lifesaver. So, our bedroom furniture is big. Really big. We acquired back in San Diego when we had ample space to absorb it. The two main space-hogs are the bed and a large armoire that houses the television and two large drawers of my clothing. This beast is 27" deep, and 43" wide. I can't do math, but even I could tell at a glance that there was nowhere for this behemoth to go - except directly in front of the wall closet, thus taking advantage of the 18" recess. Our Master bed would be assembled to fit against the opposite wall. This creature of our comfort is 7' 8" long, 6' 2" wide, with a 7' headboard. Only two of the three 3-drawer chests - measuring 30"x19" - were going to make it in the room, with the third going to live in the guest room with Don's 5-drawer chest.
Having done as much math as I could handle without my ears blowing off the side of my head, the process of assembling our bed began. When I designed this bed, I was a huge fan of TLC's "Trading Spaces". I had also grown up watching my dad make all kinds of things in his garage workshop. This, I concluded, was enough training for me to design, engineer, and construct a massive bed. Before I continue, I must tell you this: while I, as a writer and general smart mouth, have never met a hyperbole with which I have not had an instant love-connection, the recounting of the assembly involved here has not a bit of exaggeration...I'm rather embarrassed to say. So, here are the components for the uber-bed (tropical edition): Headboard: 5 - upholstered panels, 2 - 2 3'x6' plywood panels, 3 - 6' lengths of 1"x2", 4 -7' lengths of 1"x2", 2 - 7' bamboo poles (5" diameter). That's just the headboard. The platform bed has so many different parts that I won't list them all. Suffice to say that after this, I am now an honorary Ikea furniture designer and instruction writer.
There is a particular scientific measure used by experts when evaluating the ease versus difficulty of any given project: the level of frequency and stupidity of the arguments between the assemblers. I think Don and I reached the "I'm-rubber-you're-glue" level of domestic debate before this thing was finally put together. We had no written instructions, just a bunch of arrows and names and numbers on each part, plus a bag of hardware with no "bolt-A-goes-into-Hole-B" type directions. We also had pictures that we had taken as we were dissembling this beautiful monstrosity a year before - but we had no idea where these helpful visual aids might be. But my loving-yet-jinxish husband proclaimed "I remember how it goes. It's not that hard", thus dooming us to be stuck in furniture-building purgatory until the Chargers win a Super Bowl. But God is endlessly merciful. And Jesus was a carpenter. This is the only explanation I have for the bed being built and ready for mattresses.
If you have ever handled a king-sized mattress and boxspring set, you know that they are big and unwieldy in the best of circumstances. We weren't even a blip on the best-of-circumstance radar. Not only did we have to maneuver two rigid twin-sized boxsprings through our super skinny hallway, bend the unbendable around a ninety degree corner, but we had to lift them up and over the monkeypod side and footboards of the bed - WITHOUT touching said boards. These were attached to the platform, but they weren't exactly welded on. We had to do all this twisting and lifting and placing while also not smashing fingers. Boxsprings on, we now moved to getting the big mattress that my tired body was already screaming for. While this beast did not have the flexibility issues of the boxsprings, it was actually harder to move because it was heavy heavy heavy and had worse posture than a gawky 15-year-old after a growth spurt. The thing flopped and sagged as we tried more than once to convince it to just cooperate and get into the room, and then jump itself into proper position. Alas, our pleas did not work, and we were left to wrestle this slouchy giant rectangle onto the platform - with only 17" between the armoire and the footboard to move and shimmy around. Eventually, we managed to wrestle the beast onto its rightful spot on top of the boxsprings. At this point, my beloved was ready to just call it a night and do a face plant onto the now fully assembled - albeit, undressed -bed. I, on the other hand, wanted my bed to be completely dressed and coifed and ready for my tired, yet grateful, frame.
I need to jaunt off this path for a moment, if you don't mind. Well, I'm jaunting, whether you mind or not. When we moved into the little condo In Ka'anapali Shores in December of 2010, we discovered quickly that the bed, while large, had the relative comfort of of concrete slab. In order to make it more comfy, we bought one of those squishy astronauty miracle foam toppers from Costco. Cool. When we left for the mainland in April of 2011, we ran out of storage space, as well as time, in our haste to get out. We left a few things there - a few pots and pans, Don's elegant bathrobe (from Nordstrom, no less - but Don said he didn't need it anyway), and this mattress topper on the bed. Don was very confident that all would be there when we returned - even though at that time, we had no idea when that would be. When we returned five months later, Don still had the key to the place, so we made the quick trip to retrieve what was ours. It was very quick. Oh, the key worked with no problem, even though there was no real need to lock it. The place had been stripped utterly. I guess since they weren't going to get back money from us in the form of rent (refer back to last springs blogs), they took it in goods. Of course, the condition of the furniture and supplies meant that they made enough to pay the homeowner's fees for about a week and a half. But we walked in to a bare naked place and just snooped around. My pots and pans - including a couple of Calphalon skillets - were gone, but in the bathroom were some first aid and miscellaneous OTC medicines, and in the closet were Don's bathrobe and (TA-DA!) the squishy mattress topper!! Of course, this now meant we had to get the bathrobe and the squishy mattress topper into the back of the miniature Subaru SUV that we had rented for our move. But, we retrieved it - Praise God! And now, we had our bed upon which it could lay...ahhh...
So, whipped though we were, we managed to put on our squishy topper, quilted cover, silky soft bottom sheet, silky soft top sheet...and that's all. After all, we live in Maui. But we slept as well and as snugly as we had in over a year. Our bedroom with more furniture than floor was now our little cocoonish space, and we praised God for it.
As we come to the end of this entry, you may ask yourself if you have just read an entire blog about a bed. Yes, yes you have.
Deal with it.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Napili - Part I
Welcome to Napili!
We have been in our new home for going on four months now, and I think I'm unpacked...maybe. But I didn't say organized.
Don and I took over this place from the dear couple who had our dog, jeep, and snorkel gear (all important yet not interchangeable) the last week of September, and we have been busy nesting ever since. This nest - the latest in a series of a few nests - is a bit smaller than what our last homes have been. At least long term homes, and oh please God let this be a long term home. Anyway, it is not as big as our furniture is used to. This was made abundantly, dramatically clear as we hit our moving day. The guys we hired were a tough, fast moving, and very competent crew, but the floor ran out before the furniture did. The movers wanted to place furniture as it was going to be placed, but we just looked on them fondly...and laughed. It isn't even the slightest bit of hyperbole to say that every bit of space was filled with furniture and boxes. The piece de resistance was the sofa set between the fridge and the kitchen island, thus making them both useless. I wonder if Weightwatchers ever thought of this...??? Anyway, we had to crawl on top of things to get to our air mattress bed in the guest room. Tonight on "Hoarders": The Daltons Move to Napili.
Before we did the actual moving in part, came the painting part - always a big favorite of Don's. But he knows that his wife has an allergy to Navajo White in spaces larger than three square feet. By and large, this place is just such a pasty beige-y white - with a couple of notable exceptions: the front bathroom was pained a cheery pastel green, and one of the secondary bedrooms, that served as a nursery for their ADORABLE baby girl, Selah, was painted a pink-coral color, with pastel stripes on one wall (including pinstripes done to OCD perfection). The bathroom we left as is, but while the pinky-coral striped room was every little keiki wahine's dream, for an office...not so much. There were also a couple of accent walls - a dark brown one in the living room behind where the tv goes...theoretically, and an aubergine (browny-eggplanty-purply) at the end of the hallway. We opted to leave those as they were, also, but chose a nice sage green for living room, dining room, foyer, and family room. Fortunately, they are all in the same room. We chose a warm camel (the color, not the beast) for the office, and a cinnamon brown for the bedroom (makes it very cocoony). We also decided to extend the green into the hallway and leave the kitchen area the boring white. So why am I telling you all that?!!? So I can tell you this:
Painting any place, large or small, can be a daunting task, so we enlisted the help of a good friend from church. Justin handled all the tedious stuff - removing switchplates, removing drapery and blinds and their hardware, taping off, and painting the 17 coats of primer needed for the baby room turned office. Our furniture and boxes were coming two days after we started painting. We figured we would have plenty of time. We were wrong. The problem with choosing darker colors is that it takes more than just one coat - and I do NOT care what they say on the ads!!! The problem with painting in a more rainy climate like we have here in Napili is that nothing dries as quickly as you would like. On top of that, we were three grown people trying to share two ladders, move around paint cans/trays/rollers/brushes, step lightly on drop cloths, and try to stay out of each other's way. What made it more adventurous is our very narrow hallway that is only one-and-a-half super models wide. None of us are super models. When it came time to work on said hallway, we at first attempted politeness and deference. When it was obvious that time was running short and the movers would be there before we knew it, we became Laurel and Hardy plus one. Or, more aptly, as my husband pointed out, the Three Stooges. As movers were arriving with our stuff, Justin was getting the window treatments back on and switchplates on, I was pulling miles of tape, and Don was still doing touchup. I felt like one of those home improvement shows where the object is to redecorate a fifteen bedroom mansion with a budget of $28.57 and a time frame of six hours. We lost. But ultimately, it got done. Praise God.
Movers gone and walls painted, I began to wrap my mind around the task at hand. I think I described it as trying to fit a size ten foot into a size six stiletto. Of course, I only know about such things in the abstract.... Moving on. You know those frustrating little tile puzzles, where you have to move those sticky squares of cheap plastic, that have either tongues or grooves on their sides, trying to make a picture of a car or some kind of creepy face?!?! Well, that is pretty much what we were trying to do - except the creepy face part. Of course, with those little plastic tile puzzles, one could always cheat by prying the little tiles out then popping them back in to make the desired picture of the man with the unfortunate features. No such cheating possible here. We would move things around, from place to place, slipping things around until all found a home. Sometimes, it meant that the dining table was in the living room and the dining chairs were dangling from the chandelier. Of top importance was getting access to our fridge which I had to convince my beloved was more urgent than getting the big tv set up. We actually killed two birds with one stone - we slid boxes and occasional tables toward the sliding glass door, making a spot for the sofa, which then had to be moved further along to make room for the credenza, upon which stood precious flatscreen, then scooted the sofa back to in front of said television. Right in front. As in squooshed right up to it. Don and I had to access the sofa from either side, avoiding the plastic that was still attached to parts we couldn't reach, then scrunch up together for our tv watching - which consisted of a couple of squiggly channels, since the cable wasn't hooked up yet. I think we should have just read a book instead...
The bedrooms/office were suffering from their own personal brand of lunacy and mayhem. Both the master bed and the guest bed had been completely dissembled. Over a year before. Don and his accomplice- uh, I mean, helpful friend, was a young man from our church. They took apart the 2,045 pieces from each bed and put them in a bag. The bags went...somewhere. Considering that we left with almost the haste of people trying to escape without paying next month's rent. Wait....bad metaphor... Suffice to say, it was not the usual organization with which I like to do things. After having a few nights on a blowup bed, and over a year without my big comfy bed, I was no longer willing to wait until hardware magically appeared, so we began to search in earnest. After a long while of fruitless searching, Don brightened with a silent "aha!" on his face. He went to our good drill, opened the case - EUREKA!! All the AWOL hardware had been discovered - but we still had to assemble the beautiful beast known as our Master Bed.
To be continued...
We have been in our new home for going on four months now, and I think I'm unpacked...maybe. But I didn't say organized.
Don and I took over this place from the dear couple who had our dog, jeep, and snorkel gear (all important yet not interchangeable) the last week of September, and we have been busy nesting ever since. This nest - the latest in a series of a few nests - is a bit smaller than what our last homes have been. At least long term homes, and oh please God let this be a long term home. Anyway, it is not as big as our furniture is used to. This was made abundantly, dramatically clear as we hit our moving day. The guys we hired were a tough, fast moving, and very competent crew, but the floor ran out before the furniture did. The movers wanted to place furniture as it was going to be placed, but we just looked on them fondly...and laughed. It isn't even the slightest bit of hyperbole to say that every bit of space was filled with furniture and boxes. The piece de resistance was the sofa set between the fridge and the kitchen island, thus making them both useless. I wonder if Weightwatchers ever thought of this...??? Anyway, we had to crawl on top of things to get to our air mattress bed in the guest room. Tonight on "Hoarders": The Daltons Move to Napili.
Before we did the actual moving in part, came the painting part - always a big favorite of Don's. But he knows that his wife has an allergy to Navajo White in spaces larger than three square feet. By and large, this place is just such a pasty beige-y white - with a couple of notable exceptions: the front bathroom was pained a cheery pastel green, and one of the secondary bedrooms, that served as a nursery for their ADORABLE baby girl, Selah, was painted a pink-coral color, with pastel stripes on one wall (including pinstripes done to OCD perfection). The bathroom we left as is, but while the pinky-coral striped room was every little keiki wahine's dream, for an office...not so much. There were also a couple of accent walls - a dark brown one in the living room behind where the tv goes...theoretically, and an aubergine (browny-eggplanty-purply) at the end of the hallway. We opted to leave those as they were, also, but chose a nice sage green for living room, dining room, foyer, and family room. Fortunately, they are all in the same room. We chose a warm camel (the color, not the beast) for the office, and a cinnamon brown for the bedroom (makes it very cocoony). We also decided to extend the green into the hallway and leave the kitchen area the boring white. So why am I telling you all that?!!? So I can tell you this:
Painting any place, large or small, can be a daunting task, so we enlisted the help of a good friend from church. Justin handled all the tedious stuff - removing switchplates, removing drapery and blinds and their hardware, taping off, and painting the 17 coats of primer needed for the baby room turned office. Our furniture and boxes were coming two days after we started painting. We figured we would have plenty of time. We were wrong. The problem with choosing darker colors is that it takes more than just one coat - and I do NOT care what they say on the ads!!! The problem with painting in a more rainy climate like we have here in Napili is that nothing dries as quickly as you would like. On top of that, we were three grown people trying to share two ladders, move around paint cans/trays/rollers/brushes, step lightly on drop cloths, and try to stay out of each other's way. What made it more adventurous is our very narrow hallway that is only one-and-a-half super models wide. None of us are super models. When it came time to work on said hallway, we at first attempted politeness and deference. When it was obvious that time was running short and the movers would be there before we knew it, we became Laurel and Hardy plus one. Or, more aptly, as my husband pointed out, the Three Stooges. As movers were arriving with our stuff, Justin was getting the window treatments back on and switchplates on, I was pulling miles of tape, and Don was still doing touchup. I felt like one of those home improvement shows where the object is to redecorate a fifteen bedroom mansion with a budget of $28.57 and a time frame of six hours. We lost. But ultimately, it got done. Praise God.
Movers gone and walls painted, I began to wrap my mind around the task at hand. I think I described it as trying to fit a size ten foot into a size six stiletto. Of course, I only know about such things in the abstract.... Moving on. You know those frustrating little tile puzzles, where you have to move those sticky squares of cheap plastic, that have either tongues or grooves on their sides, trying to make a picture of a car or some kind of creepy face?!?! Well, that is pretty much what we were trying to do - except the creepy face part. Of course, with those little plastic tile puzzles, one could always cheat by prying the little tiles out then popping them back in to make the desired picture of the man with the unfortunate features. No such cheating possible here. We would move things around, from place to place, slipping things around until all found a home. Sometimes, it meant that the dining table was in the living room and the dining chairs were dangling from the chandelier. Of top importance was getting access to our fridge which I had to convince my beloved was more urgent than getting the big tv set up. We actually killed two birds with one stone - we slid boxes and occasional tables toward the sliding glass door, making a spot for the sofa, which then had to be moved further along to make room for the credenza, upon which stood precious flatscreen, then scooted the sofa back to in front of said television. Right in front. As in squooshed right up to it. Don and I had to access the sofa from either side, avoiding the plastic that was still attached to parts we couldn't reach, then scrunch up together for our tv watching - which consisted of a couple of squiggly channels, since the cable wasn't hooked up yet. I think we should have just read a book instead...
The bedrooms/office were suffering from their own personal brand of lunacy and mayhem. Both the master bed and the guest bed had been completely dissembled. Over a year before. Don and his accomplice- uh, I mean, helpful friend, was a young man from our church. They took apart the 2,045 pieces from each bed and put them in a bag. The bags went...somewhere. Considering that we left with almost the haste of people trying to escape without paying next month's rent. Wait....bad metaphor... Suffice to say, it was not the usual organization with which I like to do things. After having a few nights on a blowup bed, and over a year without my big comfy bed, I was no longer willing to wait until hardware magically appeared, so we began to search in earnest. After a long while of fruitless searching, Don brightened with a silent "aha!" on his face. He went to our good drill, opened the case - EUREKA!! All the AWOL hardware had been discovered - but we still had to assemble the beautiful beast known as our Master Bed.
To be continued...
Monday, January 16, 2012
Land Legs
Way back in the olden days of 2000, Don and I took a cruise to celebrate his 50th birthday. We lived in San Diego at the time, and we found the perfect voyage for us - a repositioning cruise (meaning the ship was changing from its winter Mexican Riviera cruises to its summer Alaska cruises) that would depart from San Diego, then bounce up the coast until we reached Alaska, then scoot around a few ports there. In all, it was about two weeks, and what a trip it promised to be. While not normally prone to seasickness, I had a terrible bout of it on our one and only family cruise a few years previous (a four-day, three-night trip to the Bahamas through a tropical depression. Who navigates these things!?!?), and I was determined to not repeat it. Ever. My doctor prescribed a magical little dot - or, more precisely, a few magical little dots - to place behind my ear, so as to prevent my repeat the scenario of me lying on a bed, praying for death, watching the little weather nav thing they had on the ship's t.v., and cursing all on the crew who refused to GO AROUND THE BLESSED THING!!! I still shudder a little at the memory....but I digress.
So, now armed with a little dot behind my ear, and a few more dots in my luggage, Don and I made our way on to this adventure on the high seas. Lo and behold, the magical dots worked!! Even when things got a little gnarly between Seattle and Victoria, I was good. I was smoooooooth. After thirteen plus days, we landed in Vancouver and were met by friends who would be entertaining us for a couple of days until we flew back to San Diego. I had felt nary an ounce of queasy - until we hit land. It seems that my entire system, from my toes to my nose - and particularly my inner ears - had gotten so used to the motion of the ocean that it was now traumatized by the...stand of the land. Okay. It sounded better in my head. Point being, I was now ground-sick. I not only was completely nauseous, I wobbled like a party girl on a Friday night. It's amazing how many walls and columns kept leaping in front of me. My mother said that I needed to find my land legs again. It took me a few days, but by the time we landed back in San Diego, I was all better and could actually pass a field sobriety test.
I have found myself in just such a metaphorical predicament the last few months. If you are a regular reader, then you know all the craziness and ups and downs of our life the past 16 months. If you are not....well, ya gotta read the stuff to catch up with the rest of the class!! Anyway, God took us on that difficult voyage - and while we never, ever stopped longing for home, we got our sea legs and learned how to get by and be grateful for His provision. When God did bring us back, and put us in this home, we got knocked sideways again by the death of my mom. The land legs I was just gaining were all skewiffy (one of my mom's favorite made-up words) again. I was still unpacking, then packing to go back to the mainland, returning home to the considerable chaos that exists with a new move, and rolling headlong into the holidays. Egad. Writing didn't just take a backseat, it was left somewhere on the curb.
While all this sounds like a fancy, wordy way to make excuses....it is just that. I told Don recently that if I am going to identify myself as a writer, then I'd best get to writin'! Don't know if sounding folksy makes me more creative sounding, but it just seemed to fit at the time. All this is to serve fair warning: the next chapter - however long God has designed it to be - will be flooding your inboxes in the next few days, with more to follow. I pray that God will use these words to serve some kind of purpose, and for His glory - not mine. It blesses me when I hear from many of you, but I will try to keep my ego in check. I can't promise that they will all be succinct. In fact, it's a good bet that NONE of them will be so. But remember....
You have been warned...
So, now armed with a little dot behind my ear, and a few more dots in my luggage, Don and I made our way on to this adventure on the high seas. Lo and behold, the magical dots worked!! Even when things got a little gnarly between Seattle and Victoria, I was good. I was smoooooooth. After thirteen plus days, we landed in Vancouver and were met by friends who would be entertaining us for a couple of days until we flew back to San Diego. I had felt nary an ounce of queasy - until we hit land. It seems that my entire system, from my toes to my nose - and particularly my inner ears - had gotten so used to the motion of the ocean that it was now traumatized by the...stand of the land. Okay. It sounded better in my head. Point being, I was now ground-sick. I not only was completely nauseous, I wobbled like a party girl on a Friday night. It's amazing how many walls and columns kept leaping in front of me. My mother said that I needed to find my land legs again. It took me a few days, but by the time we landed back in San Diego, I was all better and could actually pass a field sobriety test.
I have found myself in just such a metaphorical predicament the last few months. If you are a regular reader, then you know all the craziness and ups and downs of our life the past 16 months. If you are not....well, ya gotta read the stuff to catch up with the rest of the class!! Anyway, God took us on that difficult voyage - and while we never, ever stopped longing for home, we got our sea legs and learned how to get by and be grateful for His provision. When God did bring us back, and put us in this home, we got knocked sideways again by the death of my mom. The land legs I was just gaining were all skewiffy (one of my mom's favorite made-up words) again. I was still unpacking, then packing to go back to the mainland, returning home to the considerable chaos that exists with a new move, and rolling headlong into the holidays. Egad. Writing didn't just take a backseat, it was left somewhere on the curb.
While all this sounds like a fancy, wordy way to make excuses....it is just that. I told Don recently that if I am going to identify myself as a writer, then I'd best get to writin'! Don't know if sounding folksy makes me more creative sounding, but it just seemed to fit at the time. All this is to serve fair warning: the next chapter - however long God has designed it to be - will be flooding your inboxes in the next few days, with more to follow. I pray that God will use these words to serve some kind of purpose, and for His glory - not mine. It blesses me when I hear from many of you, but I will try to keep my ego in check. I can't promise that they will all be succinct. In fact, it's a good bet that NONE of them will be so. But remember....
You have been warned...
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