The big antique adventure

My friend Martha and I took off on our big antiquing adventure today! It took us forever to get out of town, but once we did, we headed to Waxahachie. It was such a hit, we may have to stop on our way home.

We ended up in Georgetown, and after some yummy Mexican food, we crashed. Tomorrow we're headed to Fredericksburg.

My mom

 

Today would have been my mom's 84th birthday.  Although she's been gone nearly 10 months now, I still miss her fiercely.  Just the other day, I was (again) wishing that she were here; more than anything, I miss talking and spending time with her!  I enjoyed the time we spent together.  She was funny and smart--sharp as a tack.  We laughed a lot when we talked!  She always used to ask, "Who's going to make you laugh when I'm gone?"  I don't think that I'll ever find anyone who will make me laugh the way she did.  She was one-of-a-kind!  I was proud to call her my best friend, and I was even more proud to say that she was my mom. 

She was born in Kingfisher, Oklahoma in 1928.  When she was born, she refused to start breathing!  At that time, the doctor's solution to this was to give her a shot of adrenalin straight to the heart.  Happily, it worked, and she started breathing.  Such a dramatic start to life!

Mom lived in various cities in Oklahoma until she went to Our Lady of the Lake College in San Antonio.  Her father was a staunch Catholic--and in those days parents chose both their children's colleges and what they studied.  So, off to San Antonio she went, enrolled to major in Biology so that she could become a medical technologist.  Later she would say that neither college nor major would have been her first choice, but she made the best of things, as she always did, and was quite successful in  the profession her parents chose for her.

When I gathered the courage to speak at her funeral, the theme of my eulogy was her determination.  When I think of her, determination is the first word that comes to mind.  After she and daddy married, she wasn't about to let him renege on his promise to her that he would go to college.  When he wanted to quit, she refused to let him, knowing him better than he did himself--knowing how much happier he would be in the job that his college education would afford him.  Thirty years later, she did the same thing for me--refusing to let me quit Baylor when I was homesick. 

Mom's determination showed in her parenting too.  She always stood firm in her rules, and I never--never--got away with anything.  I once called her "the meanest mother in the world" because of that.  She often repeated that story--proudly!  Mom wasn't mean by any stretch of the imagination (except to my 10 year old self), but she wasn't about to let a child get the upper hand.  Although we didn't fight often, my temper and her determination made for fireworks when we did.  Two memorable battles involved my piano practicing (or lack thereof) when I was in elementary school, and a certain slinky black dress in high school.  I ended up practicing my piano like I was told, and later the slinky black dress was consigned to the back of the closet.  I don't think I ever won an argument with her. 

She showed her determination when it came to teaching me math too.  I was a good student, except when it came to math.  Without really realizing it, I subscribed to the theory that if I wasn't good at something, then I just wouldn't put any effort into it.  When my teacher called her to report on my poor math progress, that was it.  As they say today, "it was on like donkey kong."  Mom took the bull--or the second grader, if you will--by the horns and I learned math whether I wanted to or not.  She tutored me every afternoon before dinner; we even had pop quizzes when we were in the car.  I might not have become a math scholar--or even have liked math--but I learned it!

When daddy died in 1989, I saw her use her determination in order to live a happy life, even though her husband was gone.  The first Christmas after he died, she drowned her sadness in a sea of baking!  She made twenty different kinds of cookies and candy, just to take her mind off the fact that daddy wasn't there.  In the years after that, she created a life for herself, different from the one that she and daddy shared, but a fulfilling, happy life nonetheless.

Her health--despite some "hiccups" was amazingly good until about two years ago.  She started to have one problem right after another.  One would clear up, and after a month or two of relatively stable health, something else would strike.  It was so hard seeing such a strong woman laid low by physical ailments. 

In the days following her stroke, I found myself emulating her determination.  I had to be strong for her, no matter how much I was hurting.  The day before she died, I told her that if she needed to go that she should go; I told her that I'd be fine.

And I am... 

Giving up...and getting organized

I finally gave up on trying to do everything myself and hired a team of organizers to come in and help me unpack!  I still feel guilty that I can't do it all myself, and that I'm spending money on people to unpack boxes, but I'll probably get over it once the house is clean and organized. 

 

My friend Nicolas and I had dinner the other night, and while enjoying Pappadeaux's food, we talked about getting everything unpacked and how much trouble I was having.  One of the things bogging me down is trying to find a place to put books since I decided to use dadddy's study (where all the books were kept) as a studio. 

 

As we talked, Nicolas wisely suggested using a room we call "the gameroom" as my studio.  When he asked why I wasn't planning on using it as my studio, I blithered and dithered and finally came up with, "but it's decorated to be a soda fountain."

 

A little backstory here would be helpful:  when I was in high school, Mom and Dad got this idea to turn our "gameroom" into a replica of an old-fashioned soda fountain.  Over the next few years, they worked hard to gather all the pieces and parts:  the original soda fountain cabinets from their home-town drugstore, a 1946 Wurlitzer bubbler jukebox (all restored!), a restored brass cash register, a penny scale, a soda fountain table, original drug store stools, and tons of drug store/soda fountain memorabilia.  Now I can't really remember what sparked this idea, but they were enthusiastic about it and went whole hog!  When it was complete, it was a really cool place to have parties; to this day everyone that comes in the house marvels at what a neat room it is.

 

It is really unusual, but unfortunately, it is also the least-used room in the house for me.  In fact, ever since I've moved in, the door has been shut and I've rarely even gone back there.  I mean, what use do I do have for a soda fountain right now?  It's not like I'm hosting parties--ever, actually.

 

When Nicolas heard my lame excuse, he just looked at me in that way he has--he's one of those lucky people who can arch one eyebrow to express disbelief (and sarcasm!).  With the dreaded eyebrow-arch out of the way, he proceeded to convince me that my parents wouldn't have wanted me to be bogged down and unhappy by their possessions. 

So...fast forward two weeks:  After spending more money than I care to think about, I only have a couple of unpacked boxes left in my house!  I can't say enough good things about the team of ladies from Organized Touch. Melora, Susan, Joyce, and Callista swept through my house like a troop of organizing angels!  They were so sweet and easy to work with--they definitely made my life a whole bunch easier!  I feel as though I've made four new friends.  If you ever need any organizing, I highly recommend them!

I still have plenty to do.  I need to "settle" into the house and make it my own, but that's relatively easy.  That's the "fun" part.

Pictures to follow (as soon as I charge my camera battery)!!  Oh, and, thanks, Nicolas, for the wise words of advice and the encouragement.

The joy of owning snow dogs

 

For those of you that know me, or those of you that read this blog regularly, you know that I own three dogs, two of which are snow dogs.  Juneau is an Alaskan Malamute, and Sitka is a Siberian Husky.  While both breeds are bred to be sled dogs, the Malamutes are generally considered to be the "brawn" of the team and the Siberians are the brains! 

 

Both breeds are intelligent, independent thinkers.  They are stubborn, difficult to train, and require an owner who is willing to show them who's boss.  I'm pretty sure I fail at that daily!  I know this because right now Juneau is trying to look innocent as he plots how to steal the red vines (like red licorice) that I have sitting on the arm of the chair right beside me.  One time he snatched my mom's sandwich right out of her hand as she walked to her chair! 

 

Because both breeds have been bred to pull and run, they can never be let off leash in an unfenced area.  They are inveterate "runners."  If they get out of the yard or house, they will run.  Not next door, not one street over--they will run MILES!  Well, honestly, mine probably wouldn't--they'll run, but they're lazy in the Texas heat.  If I had video of myself chasing them in the few times they've accidentally gotten out, I could win America's Funniest Home Videos.  Even in a car, it's no contest. 

 

Juneau even got "dog-napped" one time when he got out.  I was experiementing with keeping them outdoors in my backyard several years back--an experiment which came to an abrubt end when Juneau got scared by a thunderstorm and broke out of the yard.  He had some time to roam, and at some point, someone stopped and picked him up.  They took him from Garland all the way to an apartment in west Dallas.  They next day they called me to come pick him up because they decided they were scared of him.  And beause he cried all night.  When Juneau has something to say, he is not shy.  Malamutes do not generally bark, but they are not quiet, as the video below shows.

 

 

If you ever consider getting either of these breeds, because--let's face it--they're gorgeous, you should also know that they raise shedding to an art form. 

 

This is the pile from one quick ten-minute brushing of Juneau.  Sitka doesn't like to be brushed, so she'd never sit still for ten minutes.  I tried to get Poquito to sit next to the pile for a size comparison, but he's a little alarmed by a pile of hair as big as he is.  I have worn out one Dyson vacuum, and I'm on my second. 

 

A lot of people ask if it isn't too hot in Texas for snow dogs.  Not at my house!  My dogs lay around in the air conditioning and have their own fans. 

 

Juneau would actually lay in the fan if he could. 

 

Because they are big, smart, crafty dogs, they are also a tad destructive.  I really thought I had some kind of a record going when they destroyed my old leather sofa.  After reading some other snow dog owner's stories, I realized I am not alone.  One of the funniest stories is the story of Frankencouch.  Check it out on The Thundering Herd.  Find the story here:  Frankencouch.  I laughed and laughed!  It's good to know someone else shares my pain.  And of course, who could forget this: 

 

 

That was Juneau's handiwork.  Sitka also destroyed my Louis Vuitton wallet and an antique silver trinket box--to name a few things.  And those are just from this year.

 

After all this, I'm sure you're asking yourself why I would want such "challenging" dogs.  I can honestly say that I've never loved any dogs more.  They are sweet and loveable, and my life is never boring with them around!

Vintage finds

 

Typewriter ribbon (no, not even the typewriter film that I used in college, but real nylon ribbon).

 

1998 Mapsco

 

1989 Oklahoma map

1989-1990 Missouri map

 



 

1976 travel atlas

 

Users manual for the first cell phone we owned.

 

You see the years on the maps?  There are no newer ones because 1989 was the year my father passed away.  Mom and I rarely traveled after that, so our need for maps dwindled. 

 

Love the cell phone user's manual.  Wow, cutting edge technology in 1997!

Clean up in the spice aisle....

Another tick mark can now be checked off my giant To Do List.  The spice cabinet has now been cleaned, sorted, and arranged.  A small thing, but a victory nonetheless. 

 

The other day I showed some of the things I found when cleaning out this cabinet.  Here's what else I found:

 

I really think this bottle of McCormick "Ground Fancy Cloves" belonged to my grandmother, but maybe not.  All I know was when it was purchased, ground cloves cost .59 and were good for potato soup and cranberry sauce!

 

Here's another vintage item.  Hidden Valley Ranch Blue Cheese salad dressing mix--.43.  Please note that it is artificially flavored.  

 

This is Ann Page brand unflavored gelatin.  Ann Page?  Some quick research revealed that this was exclusively an A&P brand.  I can't even remember when the last time the Dallas area had an A&P store.  I think mom shopped at A&P when daddy was in medical school (yes, the 1950s!), so that gives me a clue of how old this stuff is. 

 

Here's the end result:

 

Beautiful!!

What should I tackle next?  The pantry, or getting all the culled books out of the study?



You might be a hoarder if... (part 2)

Any of these things can be found in your kitchen cabinets:

 

A collection of six sets of salt and pepper shakers, plus five--count 'em--five stray pepper shakers, one stray salt shaker, and four assorted salt and pepper grinders.

 

The world's oldest baking chocolate.  I know that my mom has had that paper-wrapped stuff since I was little because I remember tasting it and thinking it sure didn't taste like a Hershey bar!

The world's oldest marshmallow--found loose on the top shelf of the spice/baking cabinet.  No telling how long it had been up there.  It actually looked worse in real life; it was dried out and dark!  Yuck!

 

The world's oldest onion soup mix.  Another yuck!  Mom had this stuck in a tupperware container on the top shelf of that cabinet.  Another item of indeterminate age--I'm betting on at least 20!

 

I'm pretty sure that some of the spices that I have yet to go through belonged to my grandmother, who died 46 years ago. 

 

Yep, good times!

Progress?

I truly don't know whether I'm making progress on this house or not--or even whether I'm making progress with ANYTHING in my new life.

I think I'm just shuffling stuff around!  Today, I've just started pitching stuff in the trash. 

 

I'm not giving up...not yet!

You might be a hoarder if....

This is your "bin o' pens."  What?  You don't have a bin 'o pins?  Okay, then!  You're safe.  However, I am not!

My serious little man

Poquito is quite content to spend any time that I am sitting on my lap or squished into the chair beside me.

He always has such a serious expression.

Box-hab

Have you ever seen the Internet-famous cat, Maru?  He is fascinated with boxes!  Go to YouTube (Maru on YouTube) and watch him indulge in his passion.

Maru would be extremely happy in this house!  Boxes everywhere!  I'm trying to whittle down the piles, but it's going slowly. 

 

This was the long weekend's work--12 boxes emptied.  I know it doesn't sound like much, but that's 12 less boxes than I had on Friday!  And everything emptied from the boxes has a permanent home--although I may have to do a little rearranging to suit myself later.

 

I also put up shelves in one of the bedrooms for teddy bears and paperback books.  I have moved vinyl records, thrown away magazines, put books on shelves, put away paper, and thrown away what seems like tons of junk.  I finally just moved the city trash bin right outside the door and started tossing stuff.  Just a personal note--use those "just for looks" candles!  If you save them, they will end up melted together in a box and be totally worthless. 

 

 

See that empty space there?  Got rid of three boxes that had made themselves at home here! 

 

I vow to put up the kitchen spices, get rid of five more boxes in the den, and build the teddy bear shelves this week!  Check in and hold me to my promise!

Cow-tastrophe

What a frustrating weekend! 

It started with my lovely dog-child, Sitka, destroying an antique silver box in which I used to keep my valuable earrings.  She is still very angry at me for putting her in boarding last weekend while the movers were here.  It was such a pretty little box too--from 1901, with a Alpha Tau Omega crest on the lid, and engraved with the name and date of an event.  I assume that it was given as a favor during the event.  It managed to last 111 years until Sitka decided to exercise her grudge against me on the poor little box.

The weekend continued to disintegrate when my long-awaited Verizon FIOS appointment had to be postponed because I don't have an external ground--whatever that is.  So, now, I still don't have Internet access at home and I have to pay to have an external ground installed.  Sigh...

But the worst part of the weekend was yet to come.  I invited a friend over so that she could look through mom's quilting material and take what she wanted.  I've given up on sewing!  While she was there, she offered to help me move the boxes with mom's cow creamers in them.  With the boxes of material gone, there was a perfect spot for putting them.  I started stacking the boxes on a table so that she could move them in place, and then it happened--a cow-tastrophe!  The boxes I had stacked tumbled off the side and crashed, breaking about 90% of the creamers inside.  And boy, did they break!  There were little legs and head and pieces everywhere!  I know it's just stuff, but mom would be kicking my butt for causing her cows get, um, creamed. 

Sometimes... scratch that... Often, since my mom died, I feel as though I'm not living up to her standards.  The house is filled with stuff looking for a place to call home, dog hair is everywhere, and they won't stop peeing in the back hall.  It's been seven months and I just now have stuff out of my house, and the house is still not ready to put on the market.  I realize now that I have to go through absolutely everything before I can even have an estate sale unless I want to cart it to Goodwill myself.  Nothing has really been accomplished with the financial accounts.  I feel as though I've spent way too much money--although not on frivolous things, but things like the plumber (been out four times since January) and on moving.  And now I'm not even being a good steward to the things mom and dad left behind:  I've broken all those cow creamers, Juneau broke an expensive lamp, and I'm selling daddy's books for next to nothing.  I just feel like she be so disappointed with me.  Mom was so good at everything; she made everything look so simple.  In contrast, I feel like it's such a struggle for me.

I miss having mom around to be my cheerleader--to tell me that I'm not a total screw-up, even when i feel like I am.  Maybe I'll just go to Target and buy that cow creamer I saw!

The Great Move of 2012--95% complete!

The Great Move of 2012 is now 95% complete!  The pictures below are of the aftermath (and, yes, that is an Easter bunny still out on the shelf.  Why do you ask?):

Kitchen:  one box down already!

Junk on the kitchen table

The study/studio--when it's done it will be my jewelry studio

The gameroom (admittedly a lot of this is items that mom had dragged out before she died)

Living room/library

Den

Living room/library from the other direction

Teddy bear room

Guest bedroom

The first two boxes empty!!! Only one million more to go...

In progress

The Great Move of 2012 is now in progress!  So excited!

Where are we going?

Fond Memories...part 1

I have some very fond memories of my parents and growing up first in Dallas, and then in Garland.  I was so lucky; I had a wonderful childhood and I loved my mom and dad very much, and they loved me too.  Truthfully, I loved being an only child.  My parents were strict with my behavior, but they were encouraging and nurturing too.  And, I have to admit, my dad spoiled me when it came to buying me almost anything I wanted.

That first house in Dallas was off of Northwest Highway, over by Skillman.  One of my first memories involved Halloween.  We celebrated two Halloweens in that house.  Of course, being born in September, I don't remember the first one.  The second, though, scarred me forever.  I was toddling, and on Halloween, mom let me "answer" the door when the trick-or-treaters came.  I could just barely hold the basket with the candy.  At some point in the evening, two kids came by who were dressed like vampires.  They were carrying a kid-sized coffin that they made themselves.  Well, that scared the bejeesus out of me and I fled with the candy basket, dropping it on the way and spilling all the candy!  To this day, I loathe answering the door for trick-or-treaters and I think that first Halloween is why. 

My first memory of my dad comes from Christmas when we lived in Dallas. Someone had gotten me a blow-up Santa, about two feet tall. Apparently it wouldn't stay inflated, and my solution to the problem was to run and get daddy and a screwdriver--because daddy with a screwdriver could fix anything! 

When we first moved to Garland, we lived on a circle drive.  Behind every house on our side of the circle, there was unimproved land--fields and "forest."  We always had something interesting going on at that house, since it was practically in the country at the time!  (Now, South Garland High School is only about half a mile from there)  We had wild horses (yes, wild horses) run down our alley one day.  I was so disappointed because mom made me come inside.

That same house saw more than its fair share of other animls, mostly frogs and snakes, too.  I didn't like snakes, nor did mom.  She killed one while she was working in the yard once and tossed it over the fence.  She got a little too forceful, and the snake ended up hanging from a tree branch in the "forest" next to our house.  Frogs, however, were a different story.  I loved them and showed no fear of touching them or picking them up--in fact, one morning while mom and dad were still sleeping, I found the tiniest little frog (about the size of my fingernail) and brought it in the house to show them.  Mom woke up and in her most patient voice, told me to take the frog back outside.  On the way out, though, I dropped the little thing, and my mom says I ran down the hall screaming, "No froggy no!"  I think it took at least one adult to get the tiny thing caught and back outside!

Another of my favorite memories at that house involves the playhouse my dad built me.  He found the plans in a magazine, and immediately commenced building it in our backyard.  I was entranced from the moment I saw the picture!  He'd come home after work (and this was before he took a partner, so he was extremely busy) and I'd beg him to go out and work on it, even in the dark.  I think I told him that he could just rig up a big light and work that way.  He modified the plans slightly, making the playhouse one story rather than two.  I loved it though!  It was painted pink and had two real windows and a dutch door.  Daddy made a little refrigerator and oven for the inside, and I had a table and chairs.  Mom made a sink out of a square cake pan, and I had a mirror made from an old medicine cabinet door.  I even had a tiny little ironing board.  Playing in that little house was just the best!

This is the original picture that Daddy copied to make my house.  Besides the second story, the only things that differed were the transom window and the lamp post.  My mom even painted the chimney to look just like the picture.

The Great Move of 2012--continued

Sorry for the not-so-great photos, but, as you can see, I'm in the middle of packing. Well, I'm more or less supervising the packing. I can't do as much as I used to!



Just one of the many piles of boxes

Another bunch o'boxes

My teddy bear collection--bagged, if not tagged. 

Those poor men have been working on my studio for three hours now.  I'm sure they'll never want to see another bead ever!

The movers come next week.  I'm both excited and sad.  Somehow, as long as all this stuff was over here, I could sort of pretend that somehow everything was going to go back to "normal" at some point.  Now, with all my things boxed up, it all seems so real.  I've shed more than a few tears all over again. 

I absolutely DREAD having to unpack all of this.  Do they have a service for that?  

Update on "The Great Move of 2012"

So excited to report that I have packers coming on Sunday (the only day they could come), and movers coming next Saturday!  I will finally be able to get everything I want out of my house and into mom's.  The items I don't want from both houses will be consolidated at my house so that I can have an estate sale.   

After the estate sale, I can get the house ready to put on the market.  I am praying that by the end of the year, everything will be complete. 

I'll post some pictures of the process when it begins this weekend!  In the meantime, I'll leave you with this:

This was the last thing I had to move--my office, two years ago!  That wasn't fun either!