I’ve lived in a handful of places during my life. Some have been apartments alone or with others some have been houses. This is about my homes with my family.
The first was a nice sized brick house in the Germantown area of Louisville. It was an old house, dating back to the late 1800s, I think. My room (that I shared with my sister) had big cabbage roses on the peeling wallpaper… that I peeled and colored on. It also had a Dining Room with French doors-I love French doors.
Of course, with four rambunctious (read that as evil and destructive) kids, my parents left the French doors off… I can now say that was a wise choice since I’m the one that broke the living room window with a little help from Paul. This is also the house with the laundry chute that the babysitter got stuck in with help from Paul. I have occasionally daydreamed about buying that house back, but now I never will because it isn’t the same place.
The second one was the house we got when we moved to Eastern Kentucky. Even though we only lived in that house for a year and a few months, I have a bunch of memories from there. The front room used to be the two car garage that the previous owners carpeted and put in a sliding door. Nice big room… great for a teenage girl to do aerobics in-not much warning when people were coming to visit though and those glass doors didn’t help.
Then after some financial troubles, we moved into the house owned by the Coal Company. The house was built room by room by one man; his name was John. It started as the Kitchen, Living room, family room and bedroom (really it was the Dining Room.) By the time we moved in, there was just enough room for the six of us. This is the home I lived in when I bought my first car. This is where I got snowed-in with my Mom. This is the home I went to when my Dad died. The Christmas after, Mom, Joan and I went up the hill behind the house and got a tree, and then we all got drunk and “decorated” it. Then I moved home to teach my Mom how to drive and get ready to go back to school. And this is the house we killed.
Let me explain… We lived in that house about 7 years before my Dad died. When the Coal Company heard of his passing, they called my Mom and told her she could live there rent free as long as she wanted and as long as they didn’t need the land. A few years ago, Mom decided it was time to move and when she did, the Coal Company decided they were going to tear down the house.
Since the house was coming down, we could do whatever we wanted. We moved all Moms’ stuff. We got anything we wanted out. Then we built a gigantic bonfire in our usual fire pit. We burned anything we could. Old clothes that we couldn’t give away (I think we tried to sneak some of Mom’s wind suits into the fire,) paper, falling apart furniture, and dying stuffed animals. The whole scene reminds me of Bevis and Butthead sitting there snickering “he he fire, fire….he he FIRE aaaaaaaaaaaa he he” even now, I smile at the memory of adding the oversized black and white teddy bear to the fire-seriously, it was about the size of a pro linebacker. The crotch burned first and when it split open the Styrofoam BBs came spilling out in a rush like a waterfall that splashed into melting plastic-it was awesome and cathartic.
I rescued the Dick Tracy Figurine mug (still in the box) that I had given to my Dad for Christmas one year. Then some of us spent time hitting golf balls in the General direction of the house… to break out the windows-I missed that part. I can’t swing a club to save my life so I probably would have thrown them like baseballs.
Now, I live about a mile from where that house was. I haven’t been back there because I know it isn’t there-it’s in my head.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Hello Ants, I have come to kill you.
It started last year when I moved back to my mom’s house; my war with the ants. I HATE ANTS! Crawling on stuff marching up walls- Blech. I end up imagining them walking on me…
They aren’t all over the house, just in the kitchen and the bathroom. I understand that they are God’s (take your pick-I like the idea of a Higher Power but don’t have one picked out) creatures and have a right to their lives. And they do, as long as they stay outside I have no problem. But as soon as they cross the threshold into the house they are mine!
These are smart ants. We put down fresh traps, and they walk around them. Being the librarian I am, I looked up natural remedies. I found a book full of home remedies that said ants can’t swim in soapy water. So I started wiping them up with a sponge full of soapy water-suffocating them.
All summer… as soon as I saw the line of ants climbing up the side of the fridge to whatever it is they found at the top, walking along the edge of the sink for absolutely no reason-Mom and I do not eat in the bathroom and I hope Joe doesn’t. I would go get the sponge and kill the ants. The book also said I should follow the ants back to their point of entry. One of their points of entry is a crack next to the kitchen window (I just found it.) The crack is just large enough for the ants, but not large enough for the crack filler.
We’ve had a blissfully ant free winter until last week. Torrential rains (the same storms that did so much damage all across Kentucky and other parts) drove the ants inside; into Mom’s kitchen and bath. I was here… there was much cussing and sponge use.
*I would like to take a little time to say how sorry I am for all the people who lost their homes and loved ones. I am a very sensitive person about some things; as soon as I hear the individual stories like the little girl from Indiana who was found in a field and taken to Kosair Children’s Hospital and the elderly woman who got stuck in a closet- who both died-I end up crying even though I didn’t know them. I know my ants are nothing compared to not having a home in which to battle the ants or a mom to share the battle.*
I am trying to take a philosophical approach to killing the ants. Like, I’ll go for hours without thinking about the ants, then I’ll see one in the kitchen or I walk into the bathroom and there’s 10 on the sink… that’s when I’m all, “Hello ants, I have come to kill you.” I have been squishing them then washing them down the drain to add insult to injury. Day before yesterday I walk into the bathroom and there is a big army of ants walking the wall edge of the bathtub. I grab my leave-in conditioner and spray it at them, just for kicks. And they stop moving. All of them are dead on contact…Who knew.
I wonder what the conditioner does to my hair.
We also got some yard pellet sprinkle, get it wet, let it dry yard stuff that the cats have to stay away from till it’s dry. I hate ants.
FYI I asked Mom if I could quit my job to pursue my writing career... She said no.
They aren’t all over the house, just in the kitchen and the bathroom. I understand that they are God’s (take your pick-I like the idea of a Higher Power but don’t have one picked out) creatures and have a right to their lives. And they do, as long as they stay outside I have no problem. But as soon as they cross the threshold into the house they are mine!
These are smart ants. We put down fresh traps, and they walk around them. Being the librarian I am, I looked up natural remedies. I found a book full of home remedies that said ants can’t swim in soapy water. So I started wiping them up with a sponge full of soapy water-suffocating them.
All summer… as soon as I saw the line of ants climbing up the side of the fridge to whatever it is they found at the top, walking along the edge of the sink for absolutely no reason-Mom and I do not eat in the bathroom and I hope Joe doesn’t. I would go get the sponge and kill the ants. The book also said I should follow the ants back to their point of entry. One of their points of entry is a crack next to the kitchen window (I just found it.) The crack is just large enough for the ants, but not large enough for the crack filler.
We’ve had a blissfully ant free winter until last week. Torrential rains (the same storms that did so much damage all across Kentucky and other parts) drove the ants inside; into Mom’s kitchen and bath. I was here… there was much cussing and sponge use.
*I would like to take a little time to say how sorry I am for all the people who lost their homes and loved ones. I am a very sensitive person about some things; as soon as I hear the individual stories like the little girl from Indiana who was found in a field and taken to Kosair Children’s Hospital and the elderly woman who got stuck in a closet- who both died-I end up crying even though I didn’t know them. I know my ants are nothing compared to not having a home in which to battle the ants or a mom to share the battle.*
I am trying to take a philosophical approach to killing the ants. Like, I’ll go for hours without thinking about the ants, then I’ll see one in the kitchen or I walk into the bathroom and there’s 10 on the sink… that’s when I’m all, “Hello ants, I have come to kill you.” I have been squishing them then washing them down the drain to add insult to injury. Day before yesterday I walk into the bathroom and there is a big army of ants walking the wall edge of the bathtub. I grab my leave-in conditioner and spray it at them, just for kicks. And they stop moving. All of them are dead on contact…Who knew.
I wonder what the conditioner does to my hair.
We also got some yard pellet sprinkle, get it wet, let it dry yard stuff that the cats have to stay away from till it’s dry. I hate ants.
FYI I asked Mom if I could quit my job to pursue my writing career... She said no.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Stars and Kites
Not too long ago I went to a funeral for a friend. Our priest mentioned more than once that Maria was a “shining star.”
That night I remembered to look up. I spent some time looking at those stars that wink and shine. I didn’t spend much time looking at stars in Cincinnati; too many things in the way (like lights and buildings.) I always forget how calming gazing at stars can be. While I appreciate the complement paid to my friend, I don't think it is quite right.
Maria was many things, calming was not one of them. She was funny, elegant and welcoming. She could see the beauty in the plain and as a Mary Kay representative, she could show you how to enhance what God gave you and sell you the makeup to do it. She was always happy to see everyone. Always a smile. Always an inspiration.
For the last few years of her life, Maria had been wheelchair bound. She had ALS. I don’t know much about the disease but I do know it takes away your motor function. Everything becomes a struggle-EVERYTHING.
I feel sad at Maria’s passing, but she had been sick for a long time. Maria will always be a vibrant and graceful person in my memories. Now she isn't confined to the wheelchair or the body that won't cooperate.
So really, she’s not a star, she’s a kite- a bright red kite dancing on the wind and she has flown off to another place where she can brighten other skies.
And now for a tangent, just because I can: right now it is Girl Scout Cookie time, my favorite is the shortbread. Shortbread is one of the types of cookies my family used to bake at Christmas time. We had cutters for shapes and iced them-red hearts, yellow stars, blue bells and green diamonds (they kind of look like kites. ) Writing about stars made me think of the cookies. And Maria would have appreciated that.
That night I remembered to look up. I spent some time looking at those stars that wink and shine. I didn’t spend much time looking at stars in Cincinnati; too many things in the way (like lights and buildings.) I always forget how calming gazing at stars can be. While I appreciate the complement paid to my friend, I don't think it is quite right.
Maria was many things, calming was not one of them. She was funny, elegant and welcoming. She could see the beauty in the plain and as a Mary Kay representative, she could show you how to enhance what God gave you and sell you the makeup to do it. She was always happy to see everyone. Always a smile. Always an inspiration.
For the last few years of her life, Maria had been wheelchair bound. She had ALS. I don’t know much about the disease but I do know it takes away your motor function. Everything becomes a struggle-EVERYTHING.
I feel sad at Maria’s passing, but she had been sick for a long time. Maria will always be a vibrant and graceful person in my memories. Now she isn't confined to the wheelchair or the body that won't cooperate.
So really, she’s not a star, she’s a kite- a bright red kite dancing on the wind and she has flown off to another place where she can brighten other skies.
And now for a tangent, just because I can: right now it is Girl Scout Cookie time, my favorite is the shortbread. Shortbread is one of the types of cookies my family used to bake at Christmas time. We had cutters for shapes and iced them-red hearts, yellow stars, blue bells and green diamonds (they kind of look like kites. ) Writing about stars made me think of the cookies. And Maria would have appreciated that.
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