Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Nearly a week ago I attended my monthly "Bunco Club." It consists of a group of young, local women (all mothers, or soon-to-be mothers, aside from yours truly) who get together at each other's homes for an evening of dice rolling and snacks.

Last Thursday, it was held at my old house. The family that moved in has three young children, and they are expecting a fourth in the spring. I felt a bit apprehensive that afternoon; I wasn't sure if I could go. The last time I left that house, it was almost a year ago, and I was in tears. I didn't want to leave that house; I didn't want life to change.

But, change did occur, and I did end up attending the game night at the house. And I realized how lucky I was to be able to do so. Not many people are able to visit their old homes and see what the new owners have done with the place. The new owners of the farmhouse haven't changed much beyond a ceiling fan in the living room and a shower head in the bathroom, but the place felt different. It was warm, filled with soft couches and a snuffling dog, and lots of sweet (and very polite!) children. The house was full.

When my parents and I lived there, it was tomb-like quiet. If I wasn't watching some nasty television show filled with bleeps (something my dad never failed to comment upon), then very little noise filled the air. We each went about our own projects, and we probably could have gone a few days without seeing one another. It wasn't empty of love or life, it was just empty of humans.

The new family that has made my old house their new home is wonderful. My old playroom is now the father's music room, with his guitars hung across the wall. My old bedroom is now their son's room, with a bunk bed suspended in the air. The old hired man's room is now retrofitted with electricity for the youngest daughter. She likes to listen to conversation below in the kitchen through the floor vent. My parents' old bedroom, the one with the pretty pastel roses, is now the oldest daughter's room. And the parents reside in the spare bedroom - the room we never really had a use for.

I feel lucky because I got to see. I got to understand that the house is now warm and wild and full of life. I got some closure, and the ache isn't as deep now.


I am finally coming up for air after several months straight of nonstop work.

Luckily, I did get to spend some quality time with my couch this weekend. Unluckily, it was because I had food poisoning earrrrly Saturday morning. I don't recall ever being that sick. The body really is quite amazing when it comes to purging bad food. I just wish I hadn't gone with the lemon pepper flavor for my bad fish or the wild rice medley. I am not exaggerating when I say it was the worst thing ever to come back up. Dear God.

But, now I've started eating again, and so I will also start blogging again. It feels good to be able to breathe.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Gorgeousness for your earholes

I saw a link to this video the other day, and I can't get it out of my head. I'm not sure I've heard a more beautiful melody in recent memory. I also don't believe I've heard a song that so perfectly matches its title. I wish I could have been married to this song. I wish I could fall asleep to this every night. I wish I could die to this song.

Reverie (Claude Debussy)

P.S. Something is wrong with blogger's linking functions, but it is well worth your time to copy and paste that link into your browser.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Outcome

Last night we went to our local city council meeting, where it would be decided if the factory that wants to build in our backyard would receive approval or not.

We lost.

And we sort of won, too.

Let me explain.

We knew we would lose. For a variety of reasons -- not least that this is a small community, that this is a bad economy, that the factory owner pretty much owns the town -- we knew that the expansion of the factory would be approved. And so it was.

However, the concerns brought up at the advisory council meeting in late October, the precursor to the city council meeting, were heard. The factory VP will do his due diligence to mitigate the noise, and as they dig out the entire hillside (yeah, it's stupid), they will deposit the dirt behind the expansion, creating a berm. On top of this berm they will plant the landscaping. And they will pay for a privacy fence on our and my in-laws' property. This berm (and, of course, fence) will also end up discouraging factory workers from taking a shortcut across our property (something that happens now).

So, we lost, but it's the best possible loss. We shall see what the future holds.