Decompression or Debrief?

I started to write a post, and then the timer went off for Sherry's pumpkin loaf. I ran upstairs, tested it, and it was finished. Just then my phone rang and it was a member of Dragonfly Cohousing. She was calling, she said, really just to chat and catch up. How were Sherry and I doing? We took a leave of absence back at the end of October because home reno deadlines were imminently looming. I would need November and December off for sure. Ha! Finish by December, such a comedian I was. In January and February, the renos continued and Sherry shared that she was pregnant, which was actually why she too had taken a leave of absence in November and December when her energy levels were endangered species. What about now? Well that subject didn't get jumped into right away. Instead, I chatted about how I'd worked 90 hours in the last two weeks, and had the inspection today even though I wasn't ready at all. The inspector was gracious though. He could tell I was ambitious and not the kind to leave my house only half covered in foam. So he credited me for a number of things that were not technically complete yet. He did still have to perform the blower door test and you can't doctor those. The results were not brilliant. I suspected that would be the case, but it was still disappointing. It was a frantic day though. The first project I set out to do was weatherstrip the attic accesses. Oh but what is this? This one is built backwards. I can't weatherstrip it at all. It may be useful to note that when we got the house you couldn't even access it, because they had built the closet shelving right into the attic access. So a simple, 15 minute job, became, a rip everything out, go build a new one, six hour plus job (someone might skeptically ask if it actually takes six hours to build an attic access, and my defensive answer is yes, in fact this one takes longer). And the inspector showed up an hour early, so was it finished? No. Oh well, let's acousti-seal and tack some poly for the blower door test. The inspector also required invoices for everything. Did I have those all prepared? Absolutely not. Am I very organized with my filing, making it easy to locate such things? Quite the opposite. So a tornado attacked my desk repeatedly and didn't succeed very well, at least at finding things for me, it did do a good job of making my desk look tornadoed. Sherry hates tornadoes. It's why she dreams that they're evil spirits and she has to pray in tongues to stop them. She did encourage me this morning to bask in God's presence, even in the attic.
Anyway, did I unload all of these details on my poor Cohousing friend? No. I did admit that I'm nervous about starting my last (and most challenging) segment of school on Monday, whilst still having so much incomplete in my renos. But hey, what's wrong with coming home for supper and then marching outside to work in the dark? I've become accustomed to it. I've also become accustomed to being re-ignited with courage working in daylight, There is no such thing as daylight while going to school.
My cohousing friend asked about Sherry and how she was doing, which I relayed. She asked how my Dad was doing, and me too, post-Mom. And yes eventually she asked what our position was regarding the Cohousing group. We have talked a little bit, here and there, and realistically, we're not financially viable. Cohousing can sometimes get financed by a developer (which still involves preliminary costs), but more often gets financed by the members. How? Savings, investments, or for us, since we don't have any of those responsible things, home-secured lines of credit. We don't even have one of those yet. We do have an unsecured line of credit and have racked it up good with my quest. With my quest taking much longer than anticipated, and being more difficult than expected, it will be a few months before it is vanquished. Even then, we'll have to get our house reassessed to see about getting a secured line. Really though, these renos don't immediately jack up our value beyond their cost. I also laid waste to our yard, and though we have good imaginations for how to make it beautiful, I prespent all of our money. There is also the undeniable fact that, we both love this home. We love how well laid out it is, and how bright it is, and its proximity to the park, and our friendly neighbours, and the crazy quest I have undertaken will some day be finished and then it will be super efficient and gorgeous too.
Anyway, I asked her how she was doing and got to hear about it. She brought up that even if we leave, we would still be more than welcome to come to social events, and I thought, yeah, that would be fun, because there are a lot of cool people in the group and it is weird to think about just severing relationships that have been built up. We could go visit them after it's built (they are rolling right along) and be a little bit jealous.
She also asked if we needed any help. She said obviously she isn't construction proficient, but do we need anything else? I could actually say no. I have felt very supported by my housemates these past couple of months. Whether it's Jason distracting me with board games or a field trip to the gym, or when he's ripping up half my roof to make sure it's actually done right this time. Daniel has pitched in to give me a hand hauling foam bundles, cleaning up, and other odd jobs. He's also nurtured my plants during my neglect. Megan has gone and slept in the basement while working nightshifts because I'm making a racket right outside her room, and kept telling me it was fine. Faye gets home from a very long shift at work, and then a long commute, and still listens to me talk about my day. Sherry, even though her back has been spasming and giving her all kinds of grief for weeks, has been strategically treating me. I'll randomly wish out loud for rhubarb cobbler, or pumpkin bread, or steak, and they'll appear. In fact, every one of them has been very generous in sharing their cooking with me, and encouraging and supporting me. I feel compelled to go write them thank you cards.
And now I feel like a celebrity at an awards show having the sudden urge to thank everyone I can, like my Dad and my friends who came over to help. This will get ridiculous quick. I'll also be like musicians in CD liners, because I want to say, "Thanks God." Thanks for someone calling to ask me how I was doing, when I needed to contemplate how I was doing. I needed to decompress, by debriefing. Thanks for giving me loving family and friends. Thanks for a gracious inspector. Thanks for pumpkin bread and Thai soup and salad tonight. Thanks for working much harder than I do, with much greater skill, knowledge, wisdom, and moral decency. May you be successful in your endeavours in all the countries around the Mediterranean. I'm not there traveling this year, but there's certainly a lot going on that could use your help.

"God's Grace Is Sufficient For You"

My break yesterday was not enough to save my garage. Although several times it got so bad as to include tears. When I had just two weeks left before my inspection deadline, I did some timeline estimating and knew I had until Wednesday to have my doors finished and the chimney chase installed. Instead I found myself cleaning stain off all day and couldn't even finish that, and no the chimney chase is not built. The doors easily took more than twice what they were supposed to, in a period of time that also included an auto accident one block away from the door hardware store (I slid 40 feet going 10 km/hr on a road doubling as a skating rink into a mini-van). And in the end, I still couldn't get them to look good. And so I scrubbed two weeks of work, rags, brushes, stain, money, and heart and couldn't even finish that. It was over; I would have to install them as is, to stare at me and taunt my disgrace with their ugliness, and tease me about how I'd have to spend a pile more money to have someone do it properly in the summer. Sherry called me to see how I was doing and I could barely talk. So I packed it in, my fingers aching and my morale shattered. I came in and showered and came to bed. Sherry remarked that I had a frustrating day, and I still couldn't talk. She said she had a frustrating day too. We could be frustrated together. But she didn't look frustrated. She looked very powerfully willing me to strongly know how much she loved me. She kissed me to underscore this, and said, "God's grace is sufficient for you." I tried to ask what happened to her. She told me about how her back was miserable. But still she looked at me with love. So I went to sleep crying, but it was very different from the crying in the garage.

Today had its share of setbacks. The hardware was wrong on one of the doors, so I had to drive to the NE to replace them, but at least they had the replacements in stock. I realized that the doors needed to have gains chiseled into them for the hardware, and I hadn't allowed time for this, and didn't even have a set of chisels. After I got the chisels, and started working on the doors, I realized the finish of the hinges didn't match the nicer finish of the hardware, and it looked stupid. The hardware came with better parts than some of the default stuff the door came with (and would thus match the hardware), but it wouldn't work because of how the jamb had been cut into for the default parts. While chiseling the gains, the fiberglass chipped away in an ugly fashion.

And none of this really phased me.

God's grace is sufficient for me.

I haven't spent a lot of time mulling over what that means, but I can feel it.

We had friends bring us over dinner and share it with us - yes, really - and one of our friends was telling us about a dream she'd had where their family had a blog recounting how they wasted time. Instead of choosing the two popular approaches of either being a workaholic, or zoning out and doing something mindless, what else can you do with wasted time?

I wasted time failing. It won't be the last. Still, God's grace is sufficient for me.

Bonus
On Sunday, a question was posed: Have you ever asked godly people for criticism?
The background was that godly people are one of five basic ways to hear God speaking - but when do we ask for it?
It resparked a thought that had arisen earlier. I lost a considerable amount of money in an investment that ended up being a ponzi scheme, after reading an investment book (that in fairness, would have frowned on this), having a meeting with three financial advisors (I liked one of them better than the one I went with), and calling three people to ask about their experience with the advisor I did go with (they didn't have anything bad to say). Why? Because Sherry and I prayed about it, and that's where I felt like God was leading. Why didn't I call three people and ask them to pray about it with us? Or even, yes, ask for criticism? Might it have come up that way if I'd been thinking better? Actually Nolan, no, this is a bad idea - you should pray about it some more.
I don't know, but I am open to criticism, and hope I'll remember to start asking for it.

A Scream

I don't have time for any wisdom, or light-heartedness, but right now my soul is a bit crushed from foolish ambitions run afoul. From spending all day removing stain from just the sidelight of the front door with two doors remaining. Yes, if I stay up until midnight, maybe I'll be back to square one, well not quite - It's not as nice as square one. But back at square one the first I was full of hope and dreaming of art, but with no where near the skill or experience to be screwing around with art, especially with so much other work to do and a pressing deadline. Yes, an utter fool, and it hurts. Perhaps this break and admission will save my garage from more angry swearing.

What happens when your favourite colour changes?

For the past week, I have been working on house plants, using the top of the kitchen table. We have had problems with the never-ending nuisance of gnats, or fruit flies, or whatever the tiny flying bugs are that won't give up and perish completely. So I purchased some sand and placed a layer on the top of all of the house plants. This is supposed to prevent the pesky insects from making soil their base of operations. While doing this I decided to upgrade the housing for a few plants who had outgrown their pots. I should mention at this point that I am a certified horticultural aficionado, and my reasoning is above reproach when deciding such things. How dare you even question my intuitive plant-care genius. Of course you can repot in the middle of winter.

This morning I decided to clean up the mess, but wait, I still have one empty pot, and that green plant over there looks like it needs a larger pot (especially since Sherry said it didn't). The empty pot wasn't any larger, but I could split the plant and it would effectively double the available soil. Daniel was around and informed me that when he had previously tried to pierce the dirt with his soil sensor, it was like trying to lance granite. Yes, yes, the doctor of all things growing realizes that it must be terribly root-bound and desperate for a change in abode.

I'll just grab this butter knife and stab around in the soil a great deal - to loosen things up. It's still stuck! I'll have to saw through the roots here and stab around some more around the perimeter, there we go. Good heavens, what kind of plant is this? These roots look like a freakish mix of potato tentacles and carrots. But it's such a small little grassy plant. What is it doing with all these roots! It will never fit in these two pots. Its needs are far more excessive than I'd imagined. So to Walmart I go to thriftily save my surgeoned friend.

Walmart is conveniently next to Rona in the South. Rona conveniently has a garden centre. I conveniently have 3 very small pots that would be remiss if I didn't find them tenants. I'll just check to grab a few interesting specimens to add to my oxygen amassing force. What's this, a giant truckload sale! Just look at all these giant plants, all so cheap! But I must have them! I decided to speak to a very knowledgeable staff member (she knew more than I did!), who enlightened me about things like how when I replanted my cacti in a tall pot I was an idiot because cactus roots stay shallow - and yes it is apparently stupid to repot anything in the middle of winter (not to mention my terribly claustrophobic flowering grass plant was probably happy to have such small conditions). But is she smart enough to go to Walmart to save a few dollars on pots? I don't know, I didn't feel it an appropriate subject to bring up. But I did do just that. Since the pots, and the plants were so cheap, I picked up the 3 mini plants to fill my mini pots, my two larger pots for the cause of this whole trip, plus 5 other plants, because well, they're green.

Even though I had to proceed to setting a record for the most time spent trying to checkout of a store ever, my mood wasn't dampened. It was also exciting to try and fit all those plants into the cab of my truck with me (they look MUCH bigger when they're wrapped in paper). I was just glad I could still see my side mirror and do shoulder checks if I looked at very specific angles. I got home and made my mess on the kitchen table worse. I didn't finish them all before needing to rush off to meet Sherry for the Mid-wife appointment. But you know what? Even though I thought Sherry would be a little peeved that I was spending time and money on my distracting addiction instead of working on our home renos, she smiled at me and was supportive (and explained that the grassy thing is a spider plant). There have been many moments like that. It's like she read in a book somewhere that one of the many secrets to confusing your husband and having a great marriage is to roll with his illogical moments and love him anyway. I try to return the favour.

I finished repotting the new plants when we got home and cleaned up the table at last while Sherry made a most delicious beef broccoli & boc choy stir-fry. Then I remembered that someone asked me what my favourite colour was yesterday, and I suddenly became unsure of something that has been unchanging since as long as I can remember. Somewhere, somehow, someway, sometime, something metamorphosed. So my blog changed colour schemes to celebrate the accurate me. Green is the new blue. Plants are the new candy. Children are so attracted to sweets, but me, I grow more and more unimpressed by sugar. But get me into a greenhouse and I want it all.