Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Thanks for all the comments on my last post. My realtor had called on me after the turnarounds of potential clients. I should mention my realtor's wife is dying of cancer and my concern was more for him than for the unimportance of my house when real-life horrors visit. They had thought she could abandon her chemo (6 years of it) as the quality of her life had deteriorated so badly but she had been rushed to emergency after a week. She is stabilized now and had insisted he leave her bedside and visit me.
We were both in agreement that we deal with the Cathedral head on in any publicity and also that I write an essay on what the house means to me and my story while I lived here. All that I had accomplished and fostered and enjoyed and improved upon and preserved.
Meanwhile I had spoken at length to a dear and wise and old friend in Ontario. He is one of these steady people, hand firm on the tiller of life, no room for the wild and crazy and unpredictables. I value his take on life, very different to my own and over the years we have just enjoyed each other's differences and valued each other's advice.
So he said why don't you crunch through the numbers and see what is the very minimum you would take for the house to keep you floating financially until you, well, snuff, and then if you get anything above that it will be a bonus. So I took the time to do this.
I felt so much better after the meeting with my realtor and my long conversation with R.
It is rare you meet a realtor who sings from the same page and I feel so fortunate with C.
So he had a call yesterday from a young couple and he mentioned the Cathedral and they were untroubled and enthused about the B&B and the cabin and all the positives so they're visiting tomorrow afternoon.
Fingers crossed but my thinking has shifted after the initial shock and horror. So yeah, onward and upward.
But my knees have taken a beating, I can tell ya.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
I call it The Cathedral. On the day my house was offered for sale, the neighbouring landowner put up this eyesore, it is much higher than it looks as it is taller than my two storey house. There are no zoning bylaws in this town, no town plan (though I did put up a fight for one). So if you buy land in my town, you can literally throw any structure your heart desires on it. This is what happened next door to me. Vlad bought up the two parcels of forested land, left them fallow for years and then stripped them and built one enormous warehouse, and now encored with this monstrosity. It overshadows my house and all seven acres of my land offer a view.
On the second day of my house listing, the day it was publicized, there was tremendous interest in my house, agents and their clients drove out of town to inspect, clients eager to make an offer. But as soon as The Cathedral hove into view they quickly changed their minds as it is smack dab up against the right side of my property, blocking the beautiful light from the west.
I was devastated. This is not the first time Vlad the Destroyer has done this. When I went away for a week last year this greeted me on my return:
I sat in my driveway and cried, there were about 500 trees torn down and clear cut to leave these wounds on the land.
But, he is perfectly within his rights to do it as there are no zoning regulations and this is not the first time Vlad has torn down old heritage homes to replace them with monstrous and ugly warehouses dug into the once fertile and forested land in residential areas.
The Vlad plan is to then buy up the adjacent properties of the disgruntled and dismayed and devastated owners at a bargain basement price.
Vlad and his cathedrals to wanton ugliness. This is what happens with no town regulations. Barbarians climb the gates and plunder and pillage and destroy.
I'm on my knees.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
The more I work on this, the more I love it.
Catch up Day.
Well, the dump is open all day, limited hours in my wee town out on the Edge of the Atlantic.
So I look around me and my eyes fasten on my enormous collection of VCR tapes. Enormous, you say? You have no idea. I have maybe 2,000 movies scattered on these bulky (often 4 movies on a tape)suckers, all labelled and indexed carefully.
And now I shamefully report these have all been unwatched for something like 14 years now. I think I taped every episode of Saturday Night at the Movies when Elwy Yost was doing his gentle, professional interviews of all these old timers (performers, directors, technicians) before they died off. The only one who was doing so. I had planned to have a periodic movie night with a feast of these old classics. Alas, that never happened. When you're an aficionado, it's hard to find your equal nutbar twin. Most have no time for the old black and whites. And "restored" to colour? Oh please.
So I tackled the deep green shelves today. These held a triple layer of these tapes. Times 4 shelves.
I knew the only way to do it was to take out a row of garbage bags and start pitching without looking. If I lingered, it would be game over. Ah, you're definitely going to want to see this again, oh look, another Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, James Stewart. See? So seven full garbage bags later I think, I could donate these, oh someone would love these, I should Kijiji these as a freebie.
You catch my drift. Stall tactics. I slapped myself. Hard.
I loaded all 7 bags in my car and drove to the dump. I told Brian, the dump-man, what was in the bags (You have to do this, they don't want household waste) and he said, hang on a minute, there's a real old fellow I know living in the back hills, he's a right old movie buff, do you mind if I take all these for him? With the winter coming on he'll be thrilled!
I mentioned I may have 7 or 8 or 10 more bags to follow and Pete says, even better for the old fellah, he'll love them all. Bring 'em over when you can!
And oh, yes, as I drove my empty car home I realized the "old fellow in the backwoods" was a year younger than me.
Letting go is not easy but it can be done if you don't stare.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
What would you like to be doing, wouldn't you like to be auditing and software training?
So what's next. You just had a birthday.
What I'd like to be doing is writing. And knitting when I'm not writing. And going to movies in the afternoon. Daughter gave me a loaded movie card.
There's not much money in writing.
Yeah, I know. Or knitting for that matter. That's why I need to sell my house. Then I can write.
So what are you doing to facilitate that?
I listed my house for sale. I took stress leave from my municipal time-consuming, enraging position. I backed away completely from stifling, drunken massive social events. I spaced my PGs a little better, gapped out some time for myself.
And yeah, I forgot to mention, I'm lying down for an hour in the afternoon. It's a brilliant revitalizer.
But you're not happy?
No. I'm easily irritated. I'm impatient. I'm snarky. I can't believe the world is not going along with my intention for a peaceful, blissful, last few years: Nazism? Ku Klux Klan without the masks? Anti Fa? (aren't most decent human beings?) In your face racism. Worst forest fires ever in BC? Domestic terrorism in the U.S.? And need I mention the occasional occupier of the White House?
I wish this lonely wee planet would get its act together and its useless and vile janitors thrown off it.
Maybe then I might be happy.
Sunday, August 06, 2017
As I age, I endeavour to look at the additions in my life rather than the subtractions. Subtractions are so many,I can overlook the additions.
I have renewed contact with a family member which is enhancing my life once again. (No, not Missing Daughter). This shared history, the aging process and family news catchup means a lot to me. I can gnaw at those absent ones, but that does not serve me well. I celebrate this renewal, this rebirth, and put no expectations on it, for I stay in the moment with each conversation.
I get so absorbed in my needlework that I forget to eat. I'm working on this artist's palette and a burst of stars on a new shawl (see above) and being absorbed in the creative process drenches my soul in light and gratitude.
Forgiveness and understanding come easily as I age. A good friend had shut me out for several months, much to my bafflement and hurt. A few nights ago she texted me to come over if I was available. I did, with some trepidation. (Was I going to be accused of something, anything? Was the chill going to be reinforced?). Her husband hugged me as I came in and she lurked in a corner looking at me nervously. I didn't hold back. I held out my arms and said: give me a hug. She did, quite teary. I don't know what the estrangement was all about and I don't want to know. It may happen again. Or not. But I'm not wasting any more speculation on it.
I love the Irish expression of: "he/she had notions there for a while." It sometimes explains a whole pile of unexplainables. We all get them. Off with the fairies nursing slights or hurts. Real or imagined. Finding words for such behaviour can be difficult without sounding insane or unhinged.
I'm dealing with such a scenario with my young friend at the moment. Helping her label her feelings. As she can't. I was there once, in another lifetime, a frightening place to be. And someone dear took the time with me to walk me through the emotions and help me label them and understand the turmoil. I'm passing it on.
So yes, there is much in my treasury right now. It may look like slim pickings to some, but it is abundantly rich to me.