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Home at Last, Part 3 (The Hard Part)

If you’ve followed Parts 1 and 2, you may have an image of me living my perfect life in my dream home.

This is the hard part. After the stress and hard labor of moving, I did most of the unpacking and settling in by myself. My husband had a relapse of severe back pain that kept him in his zero-gravity chair much of the summer. I gardened and hauled dirt in Texas heat, managed pool care, kept up the household chores and errands, hung pictures, plus, the most difficult part: wrangling the 10-year-old granddaughter. (After treatment, husband is doing well.)

Parenting as a grandparent, at my age, is hard. It’s just hard. With a bright pre-pubescent tween with a lot of attitude, it’s even harder. There have been many times when I just thought, “I can’t do this.”

But of course I must and I can. Now that the granddaughter is in school, it’s easier, but it does mean early rising, packing lunch, making sure someone is home at 3 p.m., and dealing with the dreaded math homework in the evening.

We have horrible days and we have good days. She gets herself up and ready with no difficulty, her grades are good so far and she does her homework without argument. I walk her to and from school, which is a great opportunity for conversation. She has made some school friends and has done one sleepover, giving us a night out to see a play. It will continue to alternate between challenge and fun.

What gets me through (besides coffee in the morning and wine in the evening):

  • I remind myself regularly: “It is a privilege and a joy to be able to do this.”
  • My art, music, knitting, church and political events keep me occupied and help me make friends.
  • I found a scrap of writing while we were moving that said: “Swimming is my exercise, my meditation, my relaxation and my serenity.” I float on my back and watch hummingbirds at the feeders. The pool and patio are also great for socializing with friends and neighbors.
  • Being in a comfortable house in a peaceful, pleasant, safe neighborhood in a community we’re coming to love.
  • Walking the dog.

    Junior in the backyard with his favorite thing.

But serious attitude work has helped the most. I am attempting mindfulness (imperfectly, of course) and meditation (not enough). I have reminders when self-pity kicks in:

  • Keeping my head up. Sometimes I catch myself slumping and looking at the ground. Simply pulling my head up and seeing trees and blue sky will lift me out of a funk.
  • Breathing. It’s obvious, but a stressed person doesn’t breathe well. Sometimes I’ll just stop and take a deep breath.
  • Gratitude. I am so blessed–good health, a wonderful home, loving family around me (even if they often drive me crazy), the sweetest dog in the world,

    Just because he’s so beautiful. (Fairy garden by my daughter and granddaughter.)

    enough of pretty much everything we need. I am reminded of a line from the movie “American Beauty,” “There is beauty everywhere.” I keep my eyes open for it, especially small things. A butterfly, a kid waving from a school bus, flowers on my windowsill, give me a lift.

    Foyer table.

Kitchen window on a rainy day.

Even if I just get an inexpensive bunch from the supermarket, fresh flowers in pretty vases make me happy.

  • On the bathroom wall is a quote from the Buddha: “Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make peace with that and all will be well.” 
  • Mollie Player, in her blog, quoted something that (paraphrased) has become my mantra: “It’s all good, even the awful stuff, because it’s all part of the journey.”  This one is not easy, but if you can really live it, it works. Grandkid being snotty, husband hurting, family worries, my own aches and pains–it’s all part of the journey.

What gets you through?

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Home at Last, Part 2

My previous post was about physical aspects of settling into our new home. This post is about finding connections as we make this town our home.

After living in Austin for 35 years, I was burned out on the big city and looked forward to small-town life. We chose Kerrville because it met our needs in many ways–geography, scenery, affordability, schools, health care, the arts (theater for husband, art and music for me), a Unitarian Universalist congregation. We knew it would be more socially and politically conservative than Austin–almost anywhere in Texas would be–but we also knew there are people who share our views and we would find them.

The connections made so far (some of them overlap, as do many of the people):

    • UU Church of the Hill Country. Good minister, friendly people, small, attractive space, many activities in addition to Sunday services. Choir practice starts this week and I’m giving it a try. Like so many activities in this older community, rehearsals are in the afternoon. As long as Gary is here at 3:15 when granddaughter comes home, I can do it. She also likes the RE program because it’s small and not overwhelming.
    • Chicks with Sticks Knitting group: this is at the Baptist Church, and though I probably don’t share the religious views of some of these ladies, they have welcomed me and I’ve enjoyed the conversations, with lots of laughter, monthly lunches at a restaurant, and two hours a week of dedicated knitting time. They do charity knitting, so I’ve been making winter hats for an organization that fills backpacks for school kids.

Some of the hats I’ve made this summer for kids’ backpacks, one not quite finished.

  • Hill Country Chorale: after years of singing with the First UU choir and Panoramic Voices in Austin, and mostly giving it up the last two years because of late rehearsals on school nights, I really needed to get back to serious singing. After a reception and two rehearsals, I am happy.

    Note I wrote after the first runthrough.

  • Now that school has started I will try to participate in some small way–probably just through PTO or helping in the classroom. Last year I got a little overwhelmed with being on the PTA board, but I also made some wonderful friends. School involvement is so important.

    T-shirts: I used to be a Travis Heights Thunderbird; now I’m a Tally Eagle (if that’s what that is). And a singer.

  • Even though I haven’t participated much yet, I’ve joined the Kerrville Arts and Cultural Center, the Riverside Nature Center, and have attended some Democratic women’s events.
  • Next week I’m going to the Women2Women fundraiser for the Hill Country Crisis Center, where Lara Logan will be the speaker.
  • We’ve attended a couple of theater productions. A woman in our church is very involved with the Hill Country Arts Center, which includes theater and art. Yesterday she gave him a tour of their facility. Now that he’s feeling better he is curious about the theater community here.
  • I’ve attended one session of the Hill Country Poets. Although the critiquing aspect isn’t as rigorous as I’m accustomed to, they are friendly and welcoming, and I like the leader very much. They meet in the Unity Church, another community I’m interested in learning more about.
  • Neighbors:one brought me some irises when she split her bulbs. The guy next door lent us a ladder and trimmed some branches.* The other next-door neighbor shares his lawn guy with us. I met an across-the-street neighbor at a yoga class, and she brought us brownies the other day. After we moved in, a man across the street helped us connect the washer. Walking the dog has allowed us to meet some interesting folks, including theater people. The owner of the house behind us came over to apologize when they were doing some roofing over the summer, and his mom, who occupies the house, visited us soon after. A woman on another street, whose daughter is the same age as our granddaughter, is becoming a good friend. I’ve made several friends via people I know in Austin. We feel so welcome, and nobody asks if/where we go to church or for whom we voted.
  • In every activity, there is a connection to something else. Yoga/neighbor. Church/nature center/chorale/theater. Acupuncturist/yoga/chiropractor/computer guy. I ran into a knitting friend in a thrift store the other day. We’ve been here less than four months. I’m going to have to start wearing makeup to the grocery store!

Because of Gary’s back and hip issues we have done less exploring of the area than we would like, but we’ve visited some of the surrounding communities. We look forward to seeing more of the Guadalupe River. We’re close enough to San Antonio to take advantage of museums and culture there, if we can tear ourselves away from everything going on here. We’ll take granddaughter to the S.A. Zoo and museums when it gets cooler.

I had planned on only parts 1 and 2, but this is long, so Part 3 will be about my personal journey in this new place.

* A few days later I made a big batch of soup and took some over to him. He flat would not take it. He’s been friendly and a good neighbor, but he would not accept my small offering to thank him for his help. This still puzzles me.

Home at Last, Part 1

I didn’t expect to be mostly settled in our new home when school started, but it worked out that way. I’m thrilled with what we’ve accomplished in three months.

Granddaughter is launched into fifth grade. I walk her to school every morning and meet her at the corner in the afternoon. The first week or so, the dog kept pulling back to the school after she left us and I had to reassure him she would come out again. Strangely, when it’s time to go meet her at 3, he’s not interested in leaving the house.

As hoped, this is my dream house, and it’s bringing out my inner gardener, decorator and domestic goddess.

Here’s a rundown of a summer of hard work:

  • All boxes unpacked and disposed of. (Except for some in the garage that will be stored indefinitely.) Thanks to the Kerrville Garage Sale Facebook page, where I kept posting “free moving boxes,” all the boxes were scooped up over the summer.
  • Studio set up and in use. I love the space–I can sit at the work table and watch hummingbirds on the plants near the entrance, and the light is wonderful.

    The view of the front entry from the studio work table.

  • Most of the art is hung. A few large pieces that will go higher on the walls are waiting for husband to be well enough to hoist pictures up a ladder. (He’s had back problems throughout the summer. We are hoping he’s reaching resolution.)

    Large Hamilton Pool piece and lots of “water” images in living room.

    Foyer has lots of gold and suns. The small sun on the door was 50 cents at a craft store. It’s magnetic, and the door is metal.

    Hallway with gallery of family shots and a strong painting at the end. All track lighting came with the house.

    Some favorite pieces in the dining room.

    Dining room art and piano.

  • New dining table and chairs purchased online, assembled and in use. Plus a glass-topped patio table we used magic to get home from a store in San Antonio on a Sunday afternoon. The box wouldn’t fit in the car. With the help of a sweet Penney’s employee, we unpacked it, removed all the protective packing material, and just squeezed it into the back seat.
  • Granddaughter’s bedroom painted and furnished, with a new desk, bed and headboard. The walls and curtains are violet, so I call her room the “amethyst cave.”
  • Guinea pigs acquired, settled in granddaughter’s bedroom, subsequently moved to husband’s office/guest room because they’re so noisy at night, body-slamming against the cage.
  • Master bedroom cosy and comfortable, with soft sea-foam-green curtains on the window behind the bed (the decor is all blues and greens) and dark curtains on the window that aligns so perfectly with a street light it would keep us awake.

    sea-foam-green sanctuary.

    Quiet reading corner in our bedroom.

  • A two-chamber tumbling composter up and running.
  • A meditation garden with a bench, flower garden and hummingbird feeders. While I meditate the hummingbirds flit around or sit and sip at the feeders.
  • Pool clear, clean and well-maintained. The house was vacant for four months. The chemistry was bad and it took awhile to get it balanced and sparkling. (Now the nights are cooling and the season may end early this year.)

    View from the dining room.

  • A herb garden and container plants around the patio and yard. Next year we’ll have a vegetable garden.

    Our most recent acquisition, from an estate sale. It didn’t take long to find a place for it and fill it up, including part of my kaleidoscope collection.

Of course a house is never finished. There will be tweaks, additions and rearrangements. I want to put in a vegetable garden next year, look into rain-water collection and eventually add a hot tub near the pool.

Part 2 will be about what’s happening socially, spiritually, artistically and all the other ways I’m making this truly home.

Pulling Up

Sometimes you push through. Sometimes you pull back. I’m doing a little of both to get through this slump.

I want to make it clear I recognize the difference between clinical and situational depression, and this is the latter. It’s not unusual to have a letdown after a major life change, even a happy one.

Four months of adrenalin-fueled hard work take a toll. I feel like I’ve aged a couple of years through this move.

But I’m English–stiff upper lip, pull up your socks and carry on. Here’s my plan:

  1. Self-care! Acupuncture. Chiropractor. Naps. I have to stop dinging myself–small cuts, burns and bruises. No falls.
  2. Stop giving myself artificial deadlines. Unpacked boxes, annoying and unsightly as they are, will eventually be gone. We are gradually sorting and hanging art. (Half-awake one night, I imagined the bedroom was full of dark boxes closing in on me.)
  3. Get out: a river walk, a play, a visit to the library or art center, a browse through a thrift shop.
  4. Plant things. I’ve never been much of a gardener. After leaving most of the container plants at the condo, I’m rebuilding–herbs and other container plants for now, but I’m eyeing a spot for a meditation garden, and I’m going to look in thrift and antique shops for a bench.

    Nascent herb garden.

  5. Read. I don’t remember the title of the last book I read. I keep up with periodicals: the New York Times (online), the New Yorker, the local daily, and now that we have cable TV for the first time in 20 years there are overwhelming choices of news and movies. Books are unpacked and I’ve started a fascinating biography of a pioneering Texas women doctor who reminds me of Anne of Green Gables, except her story is true.

    Most of my poetry books are unpacked and shelved. This makes me happy when I walk past it.

  6. Make friends. This is a big challenge. We’ve met a few neighbors and dog-walkers, and I have some connections through Austin friends. I attended a Democratic women’s mixer. I have joined the Arts Center and plan on checking out a knitting group and a poetry group. When the Hill Country Chorale starts rehearsals in September I plan to join. We will soon start attending the local UU church. I must remember it takes time to establish friendships.
  7. Create art, knit. Art is satisfying, knitting is meditative and calming.

Most important of all is gratitude. I am so grateful for the good life we are able to have, that we have the resources (physical, financial, emotional) to care for the granddaughter. When I check out of the grocery story with a full basket, it’s such a relief to pop in the debit card and not worry about whether there’s enough money in the account to cover it.

A well-stocked refrigerator. We moved the other one from the condo so we have overflow in the garage.

Well-stocked pantry as well.

Gratitude, patience, knowing when to push ahead and when to pull back. There are no deadlines.

Our sweet comfort dog. Just because.

 

Down in the Hill Country

It was inevitable. We decided to move in March and found our dream home on March 18. Since then it’s been an adrenalin-fueled four months of selling the condo, financing the new house so we didn’t have to wait to sell the condo, booking movers, packing, finishing the school year, and Gary doing a one-man show on Clarence Darrow. Then, after June 2, it was unpack, find services, find our way around and try to get settled.

Lest you think there are second thoughts, there are not. No regrets. I love our new home and I know we will find out communities here.

But Sunday morning I woke up so depressed I could hardly get out of bed. That’s why I wrote the rodeo piece, to focus my mind on something good and positive.

Being the self-analytical person I am, I think I’ve figured out the reasons for the funk. I lay awake Sunday night, and here are my conclusions:

  • Before we moved, my problems were time over energy. There was never enough time regardless of my energy levels, which were pretty good. Now the equation is reversed: there is plenty of time–the days are long, there’s no school and few deadlines. But I’m exhausted. I just don’t have enough energy and stamina.
  • Heat. One of the reasons I’m flagging is that it’s Texas and it’s hot. It’s less humid up here and if there’s a breeze it’s not too bad. But I try to do errands early in the day, and even walking the dog before sunset can be uncomfortable.
  • No matter how hard I work I can’t seem to finish unpacking. It goes in fits and starts, and some days feel like we’ve made enormous progress, then there’ll be days when it seems like nothing happens. We’re spending time shopping for things we need–a bed and desk for the granddaughter’s room, patio furniture, a composting system, items that need to be assembled. That stresses the three of us, trying to figure out which allen wrench and which bolt goes where.
  • Speaking of the three of us: that’s it. There are three people, a dog and two guinea pigs in this house, and for the most part that’s our daily contact. We’re getting on each others’ nerves. I would love to get Chloe to a day camp, a class, or something. Even a neighbor’s house. But she balks at any suggestions. I may have to just register for a class or a camp and insist that she go.
  • And I’ m lonely. Other than husband, granddaughter and dog, the only other people I talk to are my acupuncturist and random checkout clerks and neighbors. I miss my communities: my dog-walking friends, Travis Heights Elementary friends, condo neighbors, church friends, poetry friends and singing friends. I did appreciate them but I don’t think I realized how much I’d miss them.

I’m not complaining. I know it takes time to find new communities. And I will be proactive. I am not bashful and I already have some contacts here to get me started.

Next: getting out of the valley.

The view from the restaurant on the Guadalupe River where we ate last night. If you have to be in a valley, this is not bad.

 

Why I Love a Small-Town Rodeo

Knowing my political views, some of my friends might be surprised that I had such a good time at the Kerrville Open Rodeo. I posted photos on Facebook last night, but overnight I’ve thought about all the things I liked about it:

  • I’m usually early for everything, but we got a late start (my fault–I insisted on walking the dog first), but it was a quick ride and, after paying ($10 each for us, granddaughter free), we easily parked, walked a short distance to the bleachers, and still got there in time for the opening parade, which is my favorite part. I am also weird enough to enjoy singing the Star Spangled Banner (even though I have to change octaves when it jumps up or down).
  • The aforementioned opening parade–elegant horses, women bearing flags sitting tall in the saddle.
  • It was a beautiful evening, with the sunset tinting the clouds and a full moon rising. There was a breeze and it wasn’t too hot.

Sunset clouds.

  • The judges (all on horseback) wore bright pink shirts.

Pink-shirted judge and full moon.

  • Participants were mostly local or from surrounding communities. People in the bleachers rooted for people they knew. Chloe noticed a pretty young woman sitting near us, and later she was in the barrel race. Her horse balked and she had a bad ride. When she came back to her family people around them offered encouraging comments.
  • The young contestants have wonderful names: girls named Jody, Morgan, Riley, Tana, Charlie, Shelby, Whitley and Teva (whose mother, Melissa, was also a rider). Boys: Jessie, Landon, Brett, Blake, Tyler, Tanner, Hawk, Chase, Cody, Stralen (last name Cowdus!). The announcer seemed to know these kids’ back stories. One bronco rider was blind.
  • Despite the clown’s lame (and dated) jokes, there were genuinely funny moments. “Mutton busting,” in which young volunteers ride sheep, was hilarious. The calf scramble is also fun (Chloe actually considered joining in.)
  • People are so polite. When we needed to go up and down the bleachers they made way and offered hands. I needed to slide off my seat at one point, and I had Gary on one side offering a hand and a stranger on the other (whose hand I accepted, not to offend) when I didn’t need help at all!
  • It’s dog-friendly. A guy had an adorable toy Australian shepherd puppy. And a small dog was loose in the arena during the bull-riding. (It survived.) We may take Junior next time.
  • This is not a white-only redneck town. There were as many tattoos as you’d see at any event in Austin. There were old folks and babies, couples, women having a girls’ night, people of color.
  • Vendors were few and nice, and it was easy and pleasant to wander around the grounds. Sno-cones were cheap and do-it-yourself, so Chloe restrained herself on the syrup–she said she mainly wanted the ice anyway.
  • The nicely weird part of the evening: a guy in front of me had a shirt with a poem on the back. I recognized it when I read the first two lines, and it’s one of my favorite poems. So when he left his seat I asked him about the shirt. He said it was from Rogue American Apparel. Norton tells me it’s a dangerous site, and the merchandise is W-A-Y more macho than most people in my life would wear, but I found the shirt. Gary was surprised I talked to the guy, but I think he got a kick out of someone knowing an obscure Stephen Crane poem. (What a terribly short life Crane had.)

I may have to order one.

If you can’t read the back of the shirt, here’s the Stephen Crane poem:

In the Desert

Stephen Crane1871 – 1900

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

Releasing my Inner Outdoor Girl

I love yanking crabgrass. This surprises me. I’ve never been much of a gardener or yard-work person, and 18 years in a condo seemed to prove that. But now that we have a big yard, I find it deeply satisfying to pull up great lengths of nasty crabgrass, and it’s great exercise, too, while I toss tennis balls for the dog.

My crabgrass harvest in less than a month. That is a full-size trash can.

Today I hung hummingbird feeders near the pool. (Some previous owner was really into wrought iron, and there are places to hang things all over the property, some not suitable for plants because of the difficulty of watering them.)

Clear hummingbird feeders. Most recipes recommend not adding food color, and there are tiny red flowers on the feeders. I’ve already seen hummingbirds around here before I put these up.

I also planted red flowers for the entry to match (kind of) the red front door. (When we first looked at this house, that door was a good sign.) I checked to make sure deer don’t like them. Front yards are a midnight grazing ground here.

It’s called Pentas, and deer supposedly don’t like it.

My gardening gloves smell like the rosemary. The only rosemary I had at the condo was a sad little potted one that never thrived, so I appreciate this giant.

One of my first purchases at Gibson’s, Kerrville’s go-to store for all things outdoor, plus a lot more.

 

My middle name is Rosemary.

Next project is the corner of the yard behind the pool. It’s weedy and bare, and I want a meditation garden in that space. I know it needs seating, a table, flowers, maybe a wind chime. I welcome ideas and suggestions.

 

The Mexican pottery bird bath is the only decor so far, and the tree stump makes a handy stand.

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