Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Reno's Continue

We spent the weekend mysteriously without kitchen lights. It was okay because it's midsummer and the light doesn't leave until late.
The bathroom floor has been replaced (and the piers and joists) and now the boys are framing in the closet, formerly known as The Alcove. This will mean less light in the kitchen but I'm willing to sacrifice in order to have a closet in my bedroom. Seriously, we didn't have one before.

I'm going to miss the old lathes in the walls. In fact, I wish I could find some old fashioned lathe men to come and redo the walls the way they were with plaster, which will hold a nail and not with drywall, which will barely hold itself. Things don't work out that way unfortunately, mainly because we can't afford for them to and so drywall it is.

What are we doing to 'green' our reno? Reusing the toilet and sink and fixtures. Reusing the light fixtures. When the boys tore out my grandmother's old cedar closet from the bathroom, they saved most of the wood and Travis made a sweet trunk out of it. I'm cruising Craig's list for used bath tubs and shower stalls but finding used items that fit our exact specs is proving difficult, so we will probably end up buying new. The biggest thing we're doing is making sure to take care of every problem spot we run into so that the house can be around for the next 4 generations of our family to live in.

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Crossroads

On the day of my 45th birthday

this poem was published in the

Sanctuary at the Women's

Colony. I love it and thank

the author, Joyce Sutphen,

for writing this poem honoring

the process of living a life

beyond youth.

Crossroads


The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.

The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers sifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.
There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys in into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.

The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.


~Joyce Sutphen
Straight Out Of View, New Rivers Press

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