The Days Were Just Packed

When women gush about how much they love Fall, deep down, it feels like they must be lying. I just don't get it.

...

It was a lovely summer at our house. Well, we spent any extra vacation money getting our chimneys repointed (ugh!), replacing a crapped-out air conditioner (ugh!!), and continuing to pay off three floors of new windows (!!!) so we spent a lot of time just relaxing at home.

staycation

But it really was lovely, especially after a stressful year in 2018. This year, a pair of song sparrows made a nest by our front door, and I was lucky to discover the nest the moment their first baby hatched from an egg and stretched his little neck towards the sky. I got to watch its siblings grow from helpess pink newborns to fuzzy-headed babies to fully-feathered birds, who blinked at me for a few days before flying off. I cried when they left.

day 1 - day 12

Our butterfly garden attacted monarch butterflies, friendly tigertails, iridescent red spotted purples, and — jackpot — hungry little hummingbirds.

My husband Billy taught me the joys of sitting on our deck. Previously, I couldn't understand why anyone would choose to sit where it's hot, but this summer, I soaked up our sun. I discovered how time slows down with a good book in the sunshine, and how lightly toasted skin feels loved and luxurious even hours later. Also, the smell of suntan lotion makes me instanty happy.

I walked our dog Abigail, slipping into sandals and heading out, free from the burdens of boots and bulky coats. I ran into neighbors who were happy to be outside and happy to share the latest news. I befriended a neigborhood kitten, and a guinea pig who gets to go for evening strolls. (The guinea pig belongs to Joan, a woman who's lived here long enough to tell me the history of my house.)

The sunshine greeted me with my alarm at 6am. It shone brightly through my 6pm commute, then stretched daytime well past dinner and into perfectly pink-and-purple evenings. On the fourth of July, Billy and I realized we could sit on the steps on the side of our house and watch fireworks light up the sky. No traffic, no crowds, just Billy, me, and the fireflies.

I bobbed in the wave pool, decorated the inside of my house with flowers from my yard, and made jugs of sun tea. I made one batch on my birthday, and imagined that the tea was my personal elixer of pure birthday joy.

My potted jasmine, which threatens to die every winter, rejoiced outside, filling the evening air with its perfume.

It rained sometimes, and I discovered that our deck is perfecly perched on top of the best hill for seeing rainbows.

But now summer is ending, and with it, the music festivals and fun events, escaping from work while it's still light out, and roaming the world free from socks and layers.

But I guess some people like dark mornings, wet dead leaves, and sweating inside a coat in line at the pharmacy. As much as cloyingly sweet lattes and back-to-school traffic and empty pools, dismal and drained for the season.
Sure.

I love summer, and I miss it already!

Grieving & Healing By Transforming a Room in My House

I found my cat Firefly when we were both just kittens kids: she a tiny, fuzzy stray and me a teenager in college. From that day on, she was my constant companion.

She moved everywhere with me, outlasting apartments, boyfriends, and jobs. She wasn't an aloof cat who kept to herself. This girl liked to be talked to, sung to, and cuddled all the time. She liked to be included.

By the time my husband and I bought our house, my little kitten was 16 and battling kidney disease and high blood pressure. She was slowing down. I let her have the run of the house, but I also set up a bedroom just for her. From the litterbox area in her closet, to the placemat with food and water in the opposite corner, to the comfy furniture and window access, I dedicated the room to her and her needs.

Over the next four years, Firefly left her room less and less. So I made sure to dedicate more and more time to visiting her there. I could tell that she loved Thursdays, the day I work from home and could give her at least eight hours to nap in my lap.

Then one day, with little warning, my Firefly's kidneys failed. I had to say goodbye. I spent her final nights sleeping with her in her room. Her vet came to our house. We sat on the floor of her bedroom, and my loyal friend passed away in my arms.

And suddenly, I had a cat room with no cat. Just walking past it and seeing her chair, empty, broke my heart. I sent my friend Madge a tearful video and a plea: help me transform this cat hospice into something new.

So that's what we did. We threw ourselves into designing a brand new office for me — in Firefly's honor.

First, I painted the walls the pale butterscotch color of her fur. As I moved furniture and climbed ladders, I thought about her and how lucky I was to have loved her. It was physically taxing and emotionally cathartic.

Meanwhile, Madge found a new rug that represented all the colors of Firefly's fur, plus her tiny pink nose and paw pads. (The pattern also makes me think of fangs or claws, which suits my feisty girl very well!)

Madge also encouraged me to declutter and organize, suggesting that I get rid of at least 50% of the stuff that was filling the small room. I scrubbed and painted the litterbox area and turned it into a space for books and storage, and grouped my crystal collection by color.

Then I added some special touches to remind me of Firefly, like a firefly-esque lamp, a furry pillow for her lounge chair, and a photo tribute wall.

Most importantly, I gave myself new views. I moved the lounge that Firefly and I spent hours and hours (not to mention her final nights) snuggling in. Now, it faces a completely different corner. I moved the desk we worked at together and bought a chair that feels brand new and doesn't remind me that my lap is conspicuously empty.

I still need a big piece of art on this empty wall — something that reminds me of the way my loyal companion made me feel. I'll know it when I see it. Until then, I'll keep working on filling this room with love.

This project turned out to be excellent medicine for grief. I got to spend time with Madge, sweat as I painted and rearranged, busy myself with shopping and planning and treat myself to something special and new.

Today, the room my cat died in is gone. But her spirit — so familiar and sweet — is alive in every detail.

Firefly portrait by Alternate Histories!

Just an Update

Me, horrified:  "We have a hole."

My living room, currently.

Billy, helpfully: "Well, one of your favorite bands is called Hole!"

I'm feeling overwhelmed this week. We're waiting for an insurance adjuster to come look at the big, soggy hole in our living room ceiling. The plumber said we may have to tear up our bathroom to get it fixed.

Our house has pretty much been under construction since June, which has been mentally and financially exhausting, making me miss the days when I just paid my rent and bought another designer handbag, without checking my bank balance. 

We celebrated our dog's second anniversary with us, and days later, came home to find her panting, trembling, and unable to walk. It looked like she was dying. Two vet appointments later, we found out her spine is dropping, or degenerating. She needs pain medicine every 12 hours and a new, gentle routine.

There are plenty of bigger, actual disasters to put things in perspective. Seeing those horrible headlines and heartbreaking photos is overwhelming, too.

In the mean time, here are some things I love right now:

• Downward Dog, which I didn't discover until after it was cancelled, but I am enjoying watching a TV show about a woman who lives in Pittsburgh and works in marketing and loves her dog. Just like me! The scenes when she walks him in Frick Park break my heart and make me long for Porter so badly, I ache. But the show still makes me happy.
  
  
  
•  Weekend dinners with my parents and husband. Today we went to Mindful Brewing.
  
• Big amethyst clusters like this one on my Instagram. I have 6 of these now and I can't stop buying them. I read that they have properties that help you sleep well so I put two next to my bed.
  
• Sending and receiving zine-style mail with my best girl, Madge. We've been packaging up treasure troves of collages, mini paintings, stickers, handmade booklets, and letters. A great mail day is a great day indeed.
  
• The butterflies in my yard. They are so beautiful, and inspired me to dust off my real cameras. I took this picture and hope to get to blown up some day for our walls! 
  
  
  
  
  

That's all I had to say for now.

Us, at Home

This is my new favorite picture.

This is a photo of my husband, Billy, sitting on our staircase. I was sitting in my home office, trying to focus on something at my desk. Billy was, as he often is, buzzing with thoughts and ideas and just couldn't stop talking to me. He knew he wasn't supposed to come into my office, so he planted himself on the other end of our hallway, and happily chattered at me while I attempted -- and gave up on -- my task at hand.

He just couldn't stop talking to me, and I am so grateful for it. I can't believe I didn't find him until I was 33, because that enthused, earnest face would have made me swoon when I was a teenager in study hall, too.

I love being his person -- the single human who gets all of him, the play-by-play of his overactive but always interesting brain.

The holiday season is about to come to its official close, and I know that what I will miss most is being home during the day with Billy. We're like two kids in this house. One afternoon, we practiced pull-ups, attempted to weigh the cat, danced around changing all the lyrics to Chritsmas carols to be about our Beagle, and ate lunch in front of Netflix.

Everything is fun with him. I appreciate every moment.

Confession: My House Scares the Crap Out of Me

These are things people say to you when you rent your home:

• You're throwing money away.
• Your home never really feels like it's yours.
• There's no security in renting.
• Your rent costs more than my mortgage!!!!

Yeah, I know. I heard it all. I rented for 11 years. Because renting enabled me to set a fixed budget and live somewhat high on the hog while I socked money away. Instead of buying a modest starter home, I moved into a big, fancy apartment. Unburdened by a leaking roof or failing gutters, I always had money for vacations and happy hour.

My rent did cost more than some people's mortgage. But I didn't pay for gas, water, sewage, taxes, home insurance, loan interest, garbage, appliances, maintenance, repairs, or things like a lawnmower/shovel/rake, windows, furnaces, air conditioners, emergency plumber visits, and lots of other seriously expensive stuff.

And, I never once shoveled a snowy sidewalk, raked a pile of leaves, or unclogged a drain. I worried not about hot water heaters or burst pipes. Who cared if there was only one dirty dish in the dishwasher? I ran the whole cycle! That's the wonderful freedom I paid for.

But eventually, it was time to move. I married a wonderful man. He came with lots of stuff. We adopted a very noisy Beagle. We hated Mozart Management, our landlords. So after a long search, we found the perfect house. Since we'd always lived on a budget, we had a nice down payment. We bought that house, and we love it.



So ... where's this sense of security everyone kept talking about?

Home ownership is the scariest thing I've ever done.

Here are the things I worry about every single day:

• Did I lock the doors before I left home today?
• What about the garage door? Oh my god. I might have left it open.
• Did I turn everything off? I bet I didn't. Something's going to start a fire. The house has probably already burned down.
• Speaking of ... how old is our wiring? How much does wiring cost?  
• Houses get older every day. It is DETERIORATING AS I TYPE THIS. I need to do ... things ... to it!
• The upstairs is hot but the downstairs is freezing and the gas bill is going to be huge.  
• Probably because we need new windows. And a new furnace. Oh, god.
• And I DEFINITELY shouldn't take such long, luxurious showers.
• NEW THIS WINTER! Did snow fall on our sidewalk? If someone slips and falls on it, can they really sue us? Did we buy enough salt?
• ALSO NEW: So what does this mean, "burst pipe?" 
• And so on.  

 ........

Anxiety aside, I do love our house. It is so pretty. It is just right for us.

And I do like the feeling that if we want to stay there forever, we can.

My husband can play guitar as loud as he wants. And our dog can bark as ferociously (and incessantly) as she wants.

I don't have to hide my cat  from the landlord anymore (eff you, Mozart!). In fact, we can consider more cats or more Beagles if we want!

This will never happen to me again:

Housekeeping Inspection from Mozart Management. This is no joke.

-- and -- this is big -- I love my laundry chute! (I don't know why we, as a people, decided to start carrying our laundry down stairs in modern times. This was a terrible mistake.)

We really bought a house.

So tomorrow, when I get home, it will happen again. I will stand in front of my house, the biggest thing we ever bought, the biggest responsibility we ever took on, and I will fill with sheer panic.

But also pride. And love. Because fears aside, it is our best adventure yet.

Or at least, that is what I will say if you ask me. Because I do love our house.

Weekend and Worries

We did a lot of chores this weekend. 

When you are married to a gorgeous long-haired musician, you spend part of your weekend going to his gigs, and the rest of your weekend sweeping his hairs off your floors.

I'm kidding! To be fair, I shed an awful lot too. Between the two of us, the dog, and the cat, we can make a real mess, and a big chunk of our weekends are devoted to chores. But I am grateful to have this family to clean up after.

And I had a wonderful weekend. I'm glad, because I've been working so diligently to create happiness. I have a happy life, but it's a shame how sadness can take such a sinister hold anyway. You can do so many things, like yoga, or a keep gratitude journal, only to have your own mind and memories sabotage you anyway.

I really hoped our move would help me get over Porter, and the awful way we found him But the past month has actually been one of the hardest, and now I am experiencing flashbacks.

I used to think a flashback was like a memory. But now I know that it can be much worse. You can get trapped, reliving a horrific memory that's so vivid and real, it's as though it's really happening to you. You're there. It's so real that you find yourself desperately hoping it turns out differently this time -- and believing it actually might. And when it doesn't, you get to suffer the trauma all over again.

So what can I do? Just keep trying to let happiness in, I guess. This weekend I did that by loving Billy, and going to see him sing anf play guitar, and by working on our house. I hung artwork and cleaned and organized and focused on filling our home with comfort and love.

And I will keep doing that, for all of us.