A lot has been happening since the last time I've been able to post on either of my blogs, and things got rather ... tense.
At this point, however, I think things have finally started to calm down. For starters, we are no longer concerned that a mentally ill man is going to suddenly show up at our door or try to snatch his kids. He's under investigation by children's services for child abuse and steps are being taken to protect the girls and their mother from him, should he show up. The likelihood of that happening anytime soon has dropped - at least in part due to being served notice that he faces a restraining order, civil suit and various criminal charges on his return.
Communications between the girls and their father have been all but cut off. The Watcher has refused to talk to him directly, and when we tried sending an audio message she and Beetle Child made, his response was ... less than diplomatic. Beetle Child has since sent another brief message, but The Watcher didn't want to take part. After his response to the last one, she didn't see the point. There has been no response to the audio message Beetle Child has sent.
With Egypt spiralling into civil war, there's also that to prevent any travel. Their dad isn't in the big cities, but he would have to go to Cairo to come back, and things are not looking good there.
Since not having any more contact from their dad, either by email, Skype or telephone, the girls have become amazingly ... ordinary. The behavioural issues we'd been seeing are all but gone, with nothing more than normal, childhood issues to deal with. They're still not where I would expect them to be for their ages in some areas, but in others, they have bounced back remarkably. Children are so resilient! Best of all, they are getting to see their mom often, even spending almost entire days with her.
The nightly "talks" with The Watcher, as she struggled to find the words to explain her fears, worries and describe some of the things their father did while they were living with him have pretty much ended. Instead, our nightly cuddles after their bedtime story have ordinary chats about ordinary things.
The battle isn't over, by any means. We still have counselling sessions coming up, their mom is getting a Legal Aid lawyer for herself and another will be assigned to the girls. We're looking at more court sessions in the future, and there's still finding out just how extensive their abuse and neglect has been over the past 2 yrs. It's actually been good to hear the girls sometimes talk about pleasant memories with their father.
We don't know what's going to happen next, but at least we're breathing an little easier, even if we still can't let our guard down completely.
This whole thing has been quite disruptive, and our lives have been turned completely upside down, shaken and stirred. I am so grateful to my family for their patience - none of us expected things to get this crazy, but I was the one who brought this on us, and I'm thankful for their support in all this.
In an ideal world, their mother will be able to get an accessible unit in our co-op - she's still on the waiting list - and the girls would be able to be with their mother even more. With our assisted living staff, her physical and medical needs would be taken care of as well as in the care centre she's in now. Not being able to move into a place like ours is the only reason the girls had to move in with their father to begin with. It's unlikely she'd get a unit large enough for them to actually move in with her, but even if she got a 1 bedroom, we'd be just across the street and the girls could easily move between two "homes." If a larger accessible unit were to become available, priority is given to members before becoming available to people on the waiting list. Who knows - maybe someday, the girls will actually be able to live with their mother again! At least now, this sort of scenario looks possible.
On the down side, it means that our other plans have been diverted, if not shelved entirely. My father is celebrating his 90th birthday this fall and I have a nephew getting married, but I see no way we can make the trip out. I haven't seen my family in 2 years, and by husband hasn't seen his in 4. Not that my husband can physically handle the drive out anymore, with his own health problems.
*sigh*
Instead of heading out to visit the family in Manitoba, we'll instead be focusing on moving to another, larger unit. That's another hit on the finances, as my husband will not be getting a raise this year (due to a technicality, of all things - frustrating!). With two new youngsters in the house, there's no way I can get a job, but Youngest wants to get a full time job and Eldest plans to get a part time job after the summer festival season is over. They have both talked about wanting to contribute to the family finances.
I have the most amazing children. And the most amazing husband.
I am truly blessed.
Showing posts with label moving on.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving on.... Show all posts
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Sunday, July 07, 2013
Life keeps moving on
If you've been reading my homeschool blog at all, you'll see things have been a bit busy for us lately! At a time when we were approaching an empty nest and ending our home school journey, we're starting all over again with two youngsters who have joined our household. I've had little time to post on blogs, as any writing time I've had is instead diverted to documentation.
Unfortunately, instead of focusing on the girls, we are focusing on getting advice from the law courts, contacting the police, lawyers and getting involved with social services. All because of their father, who has managed to reach out from Egypt to cause us all problems.
As difficult as their father has been, it had been my hope that we would still be able to keep the girls in contact with him. I strongly believe in the importance of a father in children's lives, and would never willingly try to prevent them from talking to him. His own actions, however, made it highly unpleasant. In seeking legal information, there was even surprise expressed that we were allowing them to speak to him at all, given the circumstances. We have no legal obligation to allow him access to the children while out of the country.
Unfortunately, in the few Skype calls he's had with them so far, he's been more interested in dishonesty and manipulation. Today, however, he has hoisted himself by his own petard. He talked one of his daughters through changing their Skype password, telling them to keep it from us. She wrote it down.
Now we can't log them into their Skype account at all. What she wrote doesn't work.
As international phone call attempts have been complete failures, Skype was the closest thing to a reliable means of communication they had with him - and even that was questionable, as there's the usual delays and occasional failed connections. My original intent had been to regularly send him emails with updates on what the girls were doing, including photos. In thanks, I got unreasonable demands, bizarre accusations and threats against me, so no email. That left regular Skype calls with the girls. Now, they don't even have that. Because of his attempts to separate the girls from our trust, he has succeeded only in separating the girls from himself. I am not going to attempt to regain access to the account. He will have to live with the consequences of his own actions.
Unfortunately, instead of focusing on the girls, we are focusing on getting advice from the law courts, contacting the police, lawyers and getting involved with social services. All because of their father, who has managed to reach out from Egypt to cause us all problems.
As difficult as their father has been, it had been my hope that we would still be able to keep the girls in contact with him. I strongly believe in the importance of a father in children's lives, and would never willingly try to prevent them from talking to him. His own actions, however, made it highly unpleasant. In seeking legal information, there was even surprise expressed that we were allowing them to speak to him at all, given the circumstances. We have no legal obligation to allow him access to the children while out of the country.
Unfortunately, in the few Skype calls he's had with them so far, he's been more interested in dishonesty and manipulation. Today, however, he has hoisted himself by his own petard. He talked one of his daughters through changing their Skype password, telling them to keep it from us. She wrote it down.
Now we can't log them into their Skype account at all. What she wrote doesn't work.
As international phone call attempts have been complete failures, Skype was the closest thing to a reliable means of communication they had with him - and even that was questionable, as there's the usual delays and occasional failed connections. My original intent had been to regularly send him emails with updates on what the girls were doing, including photos. In thanks, I got unreasonable demands, bizarre accusations and threats against me, so no email. That left regular Skype calls with the girls. Now, they don't even have that. Because of his attempts to separate the girls from our trust, he has succeeded only in separating the girls from himself. I am not going to attempt to regain access to the account. He will have to live with the consequences of his own actions.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Readers: What did you do?
While visiting Free Range Kids today, I found out about this virtual funeral for the swing set. It seems a young boy jumped off a swing and broke his arm. His parents sued, and the county responded by getting rid of swing sets in playgrounds (though that's apparently changed back).
I well remember jumping off swing sets when I was a kid. Heck, I'd still do it if my knees weren't shot. *L* My kids have jumped off many a swing, too, and had a blast doing it.
It got me to thinking of the many things I and others did when we were young that were potentially dangerous, but we did them anyway. Sometimes we got hurt. Most of the time, we didn't. Once in an extremely rare while, someone got killed, but no one I've ever known.
In telling my kids stories of the things I did as a kid, I've often found myself wondering how we survived! But survive we did, and had a blast at the same time. When my own kids would do something that got my Mommy fears going, I would remind myself of the things I'd done that were far more dangerous and made myself back off. I'm glad I did.
Being on the farm opened up all sorts of opportunities for potential disaster. Here are just a few things I remember doing.
Our barn was a typical 2 level building with the upper level being the hay loft. My dad had built a single level lean-to on one side that was slightly shorter than the eaves of the barn roof. My youngest brother and I would climb onto the lower roof of the lean-to, then climb up the roof of the barn to its peak. I always envied that my brother could just run straight up the side. I had to climb up using the cable from the lightning rods.
There were 4 lightning rods on our barn roof. One of the things we discovered, as we balanced our way back and forth on the peak of the roof, was that the tips came off. These tips also fit onto our fingers. We took turns putting them onto our fingers and pretending they were long fingernails or dangerous claws. Then we put them back, clambered back down the roof of the lean to, and went on our merry way.
In the winter, when clearing the snow away from the entrances to the barn and lean-to, my dad built up a pile of snow a few feet away from the barn - far enough away that we could open the doors wide and the cows could mill about somewhat. My brothers, some of the boys from neighbours farms and I would climb onto the roof of the lean-to and jump into the snow, trying to get as much distance out as possible to avoid the cleared space under us. It wasn't soft snow, by any means, but a rather hard packed pile. It was soft enough, I guess, as we never got hurt.
Another childhood favorite goes back to before we got a hay baler. We had the old fashion haystacks, which my father would pay a neighbour with a house moving trailer to move from our fields to the hay yard beside the barn. They were placed next to each other in two groups, with a narrow path in between, leading to a side entrance to the barn. Though the stacks were placed next to each other, there was usually enough space that we could squeeze between them, as if they were tunnels. I remember winter nights when my brothers, the neighbourhood boys and I would play hide and seek around the haystacks, climbing on top of them, jumping from stack to stack, jumping from stacks to the lean-to roof and back again, and generally having a blast. Other nights, on my own, I would climb to the top of one of the stacks and lie on my back, watching the northern lights or finding patterns in the stars while listening to the sounds of owls, coyotes and other creatures I never identified.
Of course, there were always trees to climb. As usual, it was my youngest brother and I that climbed them together. I could never make it as high as he could, though! We even had our favorite trees with branches splayed out in just the right way to lean back and get comfortable. I spent many happy hours in trees. Years later, when my kids would come home from climbing nearby spruce trees and I'd find their clothes ruined by resin and tears, I found myself trying to remember if I'd ever caused my mother the same dismay over destroyed clothing. I couldn't remember, but I must have at some point.
Another adventure involved a large tarp and bale twine. My brothers and I tied lengths of twine to the grommet holes around the edges. Two of us would then hold it up to the wind, while a third would be holding the lengths of twine, in hopes a strong enough gust would give us a parachute ride. It never quite worked well, but we did get some air time once in a while. The tarp was just too big and heavy to work well. It was fun to try, though!
Someone got an idea, though. The bale twine came out again (there was always lots of it around) and we tied together enough to reach from one end of the barn to the other. The ends were tied to the first and last of the bottom cords, but not before a large pulley with a hook on it was placed on the twine for a makeshift zip line. Loose hay was piled up in the middle of the hayloft, and we all took turns climbing onto the door frame, grabbing the hook and taking a ride down the line until we dropped into the pile of hay.
I was on my second turn when the rope broke. I landed on my butt in the hay, and the hook on the pulley hit me on the head. I remember sitting in the hay, gleefully rubbing the spot on my head and saying "that hurt!" Then I looked at my hand and saw the blood.
Lots of blood.
Well, I started screaming and crying and flipping out. My youngest brother spirited me away to the house and got me cleaned up while begging me not to tell our parents. I seem to remember a lot of that. Both the cleaning up of blood and injuries, and the keeping it from my parents!
Years later, I shaved my head and discovered I still have a scar from this incident.
There were a great many things like this that we did as kids. As I got older and got to know more kids that lived in town, I got to really appreciate just how good we had it on the farm. The townies didn't have haystacks to play hide and seek in, ponds to slog around in, bushes to explore and puffballs to stomp on. Sure, they had fancy things we didn't, but I had no envy for any of it. As time went on, I especially came to appreciate the time I had as a child to just wander around in the bush by myself (well, the dogs where with me), lost in my own thoughts and imagination. I didn't realize it for many years, but those were times of significant emotional and intellectual growth and development that serves me well even now. I think the greatest unexpected benefit has been that I am quite content to be alone in the quiet. It seems to me that many people seem unable to handle being on their own. They have to have TV or music, video games or be on the phone, or somehow fill the silence with noise and activity. It seems they literally don't know how to be alone in their own thoughts. When I had kids of my own, I tried to give them that freedom to be alone. I don't know that I accomplished it very well, but I'm hoping I did at least a little.
So now I'm turning it over to you, dear reader. What do you remember doing as a kid that, looking back today, would now be considered too dangerous, too messy, or just not allowed anymore for one reason or another? How free range was your own childhood? Was there something in your youth that you now really appreciate, that our modern culture no longer allows for children?
Let me know.
I well remember jumping off swing sets when I was a kid. Heck, I'd still do it if my knees weren't shot. *L* My kids have jumped off many a swing, too, and had a blast doing it.
It got me to thinking of the many things I and others did when we were young that were potentially dangerous, but we did them anyway. Sometimes we got hurt. Most of the time, we didn't. Once in an extremely rare while, someone got killed, but no one I've ever known.
In telling my kids stories of the things I did as a kid, I've often found myself wondering how we survived! But survive we did, and had a blast at the same time. When my own kids would do something that got my Mommy fears going, I would remind myself of the things I'd done that were far more dangerous and made myself back off. I'm glad I did.
Being on the farm opened up all sorts of opportunities for potential disaster. Here are just a few things I remember doing.
Our barn was a typical 2 level building with the upper level being the hay loft. My dad had built a single level lean-to on one side that was slightly shorter than the eaves of the barn roof. My youngest brother and I would climb onto the lower roof of the lean-to, then climb up the roof of the barn to its peak. I always envied that my brother could just run straight up the side. I had to climb up using the cable from the lightning rods.
There were 4 lightning rods on our barn roof. One of the things we discovered, as we balanced our way back and forth on the peak of the roof, was that the tips came off. These tips also fit onto our fingers. We took turns putting them onto our fingers and pretending they were long fingernails or dangerous claws. Then we put them back, clambered back down the roof of the lean to, and went on our merry way.
In the winter, when clearing the snow away from the entrances to the barn and lean-to, my dad built up a pile of snow a few feet away from the barn - far enough away that we could open the doors wide and the cows could mill about somewhat. My brothers, some of the boys from neighbours farms and I would climb onto the roof of the lean-to and jump into the snow, trying to get as much distance out as possible to avoid the cleared space under us. It wasn't soft snow, by any means, but a rather hard packed pile. It was soft enough, I guess, as we never got hurt.
Another childhood favorite goes back to before we got a hay baler. We had the old fashion haystacks, which my father would pay a neighbour with a house moving trailer to move from our fields to the hay yard beside the barn. They were placed next to each other in two groups, with a narrow path in between, leading to a side entrance to the barn. Though the stacks were placed next to each other, there was usually enough space that we could squeeze between them, as if they were tunnels. I remember winter nights when my brothers, the neighbourhood boys and I would play hide and seek around the haystacks, climbing on top of them, jumping from stack to stack, jumping from stacks to the lean-to roof and back again, and generally having a blast. Other nights, on my own, I would climb to the top of one of the stacks and lie on my back, watching the northern lights or finding patterns in the stars while listening to the sounds of owls, coyotes and other creatures I never identified.
Of course, there were always trees to climb. As usual, it was my youngest brother and I that climbed them together. I could never make it as high as he could, though! We even had our favorite trees with branches splayed out in just the right way to lean back and get comfortable. I spent many happy hours in trees. Years later, when my kids would come home from climbing nearby spruce trees and I'd find their clothes ruined by resin and tears, I found myself trying to remember if I'd ever caused my mother the same dismay over destroyed clothing. I couldn't remember, but I must have at some point.
Another adventure involved a large tarp and bale twine. My brothers and I tied lengths of twine to the grommet holes around the edges. Two of us would then hold it up to the wind, while a third would be holding the lengths of twine, in hopes a strong enough gust would give us a parachute ride. It never quite worked well, but we did get some air time once in a while. The tarp was just too big and heavy to work well. It was fun to try, though!
Someone got an idea, though. The bale twine came out again (there was always lots of it around) and we tied together enough to reach from one end of the barn to the other. The ends were tied to the first and last of the bottom cords, but not before a large pulley with a hook on it was placed on the twine for a makeshift zip line. Loose hay was piled up in the middle of the hayloft, and we all took turns climbing onto the door frame, grabbing the hook and taking a ride down the line until we dropped into the pile of hay.
I was on my second turn when the rope broke. I landed on my butt in the hay, and the hook on the pulley hit me on the head. I remember sitting in the hay, gleefully rubbing the spot on my head and saying "that hurt!" Then I looked at my hand and saw the blood.
Lots of blood.
Well, I started screaming and crying and flipping out. My youngest brother spirited me away to the house and got me cleaned up while begging me not to tell our parents. I seem to remember a lot of that. Both the cleaning up of blood and injuries, and the keeping it from my parents!
Years later, I shaved my head and discovered I still have a scar from this incident.
There were a great many things like this that we did as kids. As I got older and got to know more kids that lived in town, I got to really appreciate just how good we had it on the farm. The townies didn't have haystacks to play hide and seek in, ponds to slog around in, bushes to explore and puffballs to stomp on. Sure, they had fancy things we didn't, but I had no envy for any of it. As time went on, I especially came to appreciate the time I had as a child to just wander around in the bush by myself (well, the dogs where with me), lost in my own thoughts and imagination. I didn't realize it for many years, but those were times of significant emotional and intellectual growth and development that serves me well even now. I think the greatest unexpected benefit has been that I am quite content to be alone in the quiet. It seems to me that many people seem unable to handle being on their own. They have to have TV or music, video games or be on the phone, or somehow fill the silence with noise and activity. It seems they literally don't know how to be alone in their own thoughts. When I had kids of my own, I tried to give them that freedom to be alone. I don't know that I accomplished it very well, but I'm hoping I did at least a little.
So now I'm turning it over to you, dear reader. What do you remember doing as a kid that, looking back today, would now be considered too dangerous, too messy, or just not allowed anymore for one reason or another? How free range was your own childhood? Was there something in your youth that you now really appreciate, that our modern culture no longer allows for children?
Let me know.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Another one gone
Once again, Death has paid a visit to my ever shrinking family. This time, it was after a long and hard fought battle against cancer. I saw my cousin at my my brother's funeral just a couple of months ago. It took a lot for him to make it, and I greatly appreciated it. Now, I will never see him again. We can't afford another trip out for the funeral. I'll have to say my good byes from a distance.
As the years go by, there's nothing strange about loosing our loved ones. The strange part is that it's been the younger generation we've been loosing. The saying goes, no parent should have to bury their own child. My aunt has now buried two children and a grandchild. My heart goes out to her and my remaining cousins. They were there for me. I so wish I could be there for them. I am in spirit, but it's just not the same.
As the years go by, there's nothing strange about loosing our loved ones. The strange part is that it's been the younger generation we've been loosing. The saying goes, no parent should have to bury their own child. My aunt has now buried two children and a grandchild. My heart goes out to her and my remaining cousins. They were there for me. I so wish I could be there for them. I am in spirit, but it's just not the same.
Monday, August 02, 2010
One Month
It's been a month.
Though we didn't know it for several days, it was a month ago that my youngest brother, the one I was closest to, was killed in an accident.
One month.
Thirty one days.
I've mentioned before in past posts that death in itself has never really bothered me. I grew up in a culture that didn't hide death away from children. My earliest memory of death is sunshine and green grass and playing among the headstones - the only memory I have in connection with my grandfather.
We went to funerals as a family. We grieved the loss of our loved ones while celebrating their lives and feeling gratitude for having them with us in the time we had. Funerals would be filled with laughter as well as tears, my brother's being no exception. As a child, I even remember posing with family members beside the open casket for photos, which would be sent back to family in the Old Country who couldn't be there. We received similar photos in return.
This time, however, is different and so much harder. Not just because this is the closest person to me that has died. Even the tragedy of his death, as horrific as it was, is not fully what's made this death more difficult. My greatest solace was learning he was killed instantly; my mind had been recoiling in horror at the thought of what his last moments would have been like otherwise, whenever the idea skittered through my consciousness until the police report came in. In the past, I've seen death due to age and illness, accident and suicide, and even murder, though that, at least, was not someone I'd known directly. As horrible as his death was, it wasn't the worst I'd encountered.
I've discussed my own death with my family. They know what I want, should I be unable to make decisions for myself. They know I want to be buried in the tiny cemetery of my home town. Mine is a small family, but the number of us represented in that cemetery has increased rather steadily over the last few years.
One of the reasons I've discussed this with them is because of the one type of death that concerns me. It's the bolt out of the blue. The sudden and unexpected. Picture one of those old cartoons, where someone is jauntily strolling down the sidewalk, whistling a merry tune, when suddenly WHAM!! an anvil drops out of the sky. No warning. No preparation. No chance to say good bye. No chance to make arrangements. One minute you're there, the next you're gone.
My brother's death was just such a bolt out of the blue. What has made it all so much more difficult is that ... well, he wasn't there. There was no casket, open or otherwise. I understand why he was cremated as soon as the coroner released his body. I understand why no one was allowed to see him (and my heart goes out to the friend who found him and identified him for the police). Still, we had a service for my brother, and he wasn't there. That wasn't my brother in that black box I at first mistook for a car battery (which seemed entirely appropriated to me, among the other mementos, and an error my brother would have found hilarious). How could that little container be my brother?
Of course, no casket meant no hearse and no funeral procession. One of my other brothers drove to the cemetery with the urn in his car. During the internment, the urn was dwarfed by the bouquets provided by the funeral home. That tiny hole in the ground was no grave. That couldn't be my brother, who loomed so large in my life, reduced to a spot so small, it was completely covered by a small wreath.
All the usual trappings that made saying good bye easier weren't there. He wasn't there. Just a small box and a photo. There was nothing tangible to grasp. There was no him.
Getting out to the funeral at all was a hurried affair, and I am eternally grateful to my in-laws for helping us make the trip. Missing my own brother's funeral would have been a heartbreak I don't know how I could have handled. We did have an overnight stop on the way out, but drove straight through on the way back. Once home, we were immediately busy preparing for an event, squeezing a week's worth of work into a few days. Then there was the event itself. Then there was something else... and something else... and something else.
Being so far from the rest of my family meant that for us, nothing changed. There was no missing presence, because he wasn't there to begin with, any more than the rest of my family is. Then suddenly I'd remember - usually while in a public place, of all things - and the wall of busyness buffering me would tremble and shudder. I'd find myself choking inside, but the tears, the grief, couldn't break through. It wasn't real.
Now, finally, the busyness is slowing down. At the same time, it's allowing the walls to finally crumble. The tears are finally flowing. The grief is finally showing.
One month later.
Though we didn't know it for several days, it was a month ago that my youngest brother, the one I was closest to, was killed in an accident.
One month.
Thirty one days.
I've mentioned before in past posts that death in itself has never really bothered me. I grew up in a culture that didn't hide death away from children. My earliest memory of death is sunshine and green grass and playing among the headstones - the only memory I have in connection with my grandfather.
We went to funerals as a family. We grieved the loss of our loved ones while celebrating their lives and feeling gratitude for having them with us in the time we had. Funerals would be filled with laughter as well as tears, my brother's being no exception. As a child, I even remember posing with family members beside the open casket for photos, which would be sent back to family in the Old Country who couldn't be there. We received similar photos in return.
This time, however, is different and so much harder. Not just because this is the closest person to me that has died. Even the tragedy of his death, as horrific as it was, is not fully what's made this death more difficult. My greatest solace was learning he was killed instantly; my mind had been recoiling in horror at the thought of what his last moments would have been like otherwise, whenever the idea skittered through my consciousness until the police report came in. In the past, I've seen death due to age and illness, accident and suicide, and even murder, though that, at least, was not someone I'd known directly. As horrible as his death was, it wasn't the worst I'd encountered.
I've discussed my own death with my family. They know what I want, should I be unable to make decisions for myself. They know I want to be buried in the tiny cemetery of my home town. Mine is a small family, but the number of us represented in that cemetery has increased rather steadily over the last few years.
One of the reasons I've discussed this with them is because of the one type of death that concerns me. It's the bolt out of the blue. The sudden and unexpected. Picture one of those old cartoons, where someone is jauntily strolling down the sidewalk, whistling a merry tune, when suddenly WHAM!! an anvil drops out of the sky. No warning. No preparation. No chance to say good bye. No chance to make arrangements. One minute you're there, the next you're gone.
My brother's death was just such a bolt out of the blue. What has made it all so much more difficult is that ... well, he wasn't there. There was no casket, open or otherwise. I understand why he was cremated as soon as the coroner released his body. I understand why no one was allowed to see him (and my heart goes out to the friend who found him and identified him for the police). Still, we had a service for my brother, and he wasn't there. That wasn't my brother in that black box I at first mistook for a car battery (which seemed entirely appropriated to me, among the other mementos, and an error my brother would have found hilarious). How could that little container be my brother?
Of course, no casket meant no hearse and no funeral procession. One of my other brothers drove to the cemetery with the urn in his car. During the internment, the urn was dwarfed by the bouquets provided by the funeral home. That tiny hole in the ground was no grave. That couldn't be my brother, who loomed so large in my life, reduced to a spot so small, it was completely covered by a small wreath.
All the usual trappings that made saying good bye easier weren't there. He wasn't there. Just a small box and a photo. There was nothing tangible to grasp. There was no him.
Getting out to the funeral at all was a hurried affair, and I am eternally grateful to my in-laws for helping us make the trip. Missing my own brother's funeral would have been a heartbreak I don't know how I could have handled. We did have an overnight stop on the way out, but drove straight through on the way back. Once home, we were immediately busy preparing for an event, squeezing a week's worth of work into a few days. Then there was the event itself. Then there was something else... and something else... and something else.
Being so far from the rest of my family meant that for us, nothing changed. There was no missing presence, because he wasn't there to begin with, any more than the rest of my family is. Then suddenly I'd remember - usually while in a public place, of all things - and the wall of busyness buffering me would tremble and shudder. I'd find myself choking inside, but the tears, the grief, couldn't break through. It wasn't real.
Now, finally, the busyness is slowing down. At the same time, it's allowing the walls to finally crumble. The tears are finally flowing. The grief is finally showing.
One month later.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Looking back
I was digging through a storage bin we'd brought home from inter-provincial storage the other day, looking for an old manuscript I'll be blowing the dust off of and finishing. In the process, I found a couple of old journals I'd kept, ages ago. I spent yesterday evening reading through them.
Wow. Pretty intense stuff in there!
There wasn't actually a lot in them. They were both written in those plain blank books you find in office supply shops, and neither of them was finished. One referred to the book I'd just finished, and I now wonder, what happened to it? There is a huge gap of time between the two of them I found (another one was a book of old poems and songs I'd written. I gave that one to me kids to read. :-D ). In one, my husband was about to go to the Persian Gulf, in the other, I'm writing about the final months of my pregancy with Eldest.
It's interesting to look back over the things that happened back then. Most of it will never see the light of day, but here's an excerpt from an entry dated Jan. 16, 1991. We were living in Victoria, BC, at the time. Dh was posted to the HMCS Kootenay. Saddam had invaded Kuwait and was busily destroying it, and Canada was preparing it's response, along with many other countries. Kootenay was originally slated to go, and another ship was already gone. I wrote (names left out for privacy):
One of the things I remember that I hadn't written here was conversations with some of the other wives. A few had come home to messages from the "peacemongers" with vile and threatening comments. The recordings were given to the police, but I don't think anything came of that. The military had to let all the spouses know what the proceedures were for notification if something had happened, so that they wouldn't be frightened by the calls claiming our loved ones were dead (the military doesn't pass on that sort of thing over the phone!).
The next day, I wrote this:
When I read that part out to my family, Dh piped up that he remember that night. He was the security officer at the time. Of course, he couldn't tell me much (security reasons - the joy of being married into the military!), but I know things were pretty intense.
Reading all this, and looking at what's going on now, things haven't really changed much. If anything, the "peacemongers" are more dangrous now than they were almost 20 years ago.
Wow. Pretty intense stuff in there!
There wasn't actually a lot in them. They were both written in those plain blank books you find in office supply shops, and neither of them was finished. One referred to the book I'd just finished, and I now wonder, what happened to it? There is a huge gap of time between the two of them I found (another one was a book of old poems and songs I'd written. I gave that one to me kids to read. :-D ). In one, my husband was about to go to the Persian Gulf, in the other, I'm writing about the final months of my pregancy with Eldest.
It's interesting to look back over the things that happened back then. Most of it will never see the light of day, but here's an excerpt from an entry dated Jan. 16, 1991. We were living in Victoria, BC, at the time. Dh was posted to the HMCS Kootenay. Saddam had invaded Kuwait and was busily destroying it, and Canada was preparing it's response, along with many other countries. Kootenay was originally slated to go, and another ship was already gone. I wrote (names left out for privacy):
Well, I'm back. Worked 'til 7:00pm last night. While at work I heard over the radio about a support group that was going to the candelight vigil, so I went. They're called the "Servicemen Support Alliance" (SSA). They'd made up a bunch of signs and even brought extra candles.
The peacemongers, as I've started to think of them, were gathering at the memorial statue at the legislature grounds. We gathered across from them by the carillon. The organizers - P. & A. - were terrified (I spoke to A. later). They told us not to talk to the other group and not to answer media questions today. Our goal was just to have a peaceful demonstration in support of our people out there.
...
I've heard some interesting news. Some of the women - 3 at the demo last night - have been getting phone calls. One story is that some one posing as a Lieutenant Colonel says "Your husband is dead." One woman got a all from someone saying "your husband is a killer."
The peacemongers started at UVic about noon, made their way downtown with a couple of stops, were at the legislature buildings for the candlelight vigil, then ended up at DND. I heard that while downtown, one woman who wasn't for or against, had her car attacked because she wouldn't honk for peace!
After we got together by the carillon, we crossed the street and made our way to the statue of Queen Victoria. We had to go right past them. They seem to think we're the enemy! There were some shouts, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Once there, we sang O Canada. Then at five to 9, we sang again, then said the Our Father. Then we left.
One of the things I remember that I hadn't written here was conversations with some of the other wives. A few had come home to messages from the "peacemongers" with vile and threatening comments. The recordings were given to the police, but I don't think anything came of that. The military had to let all the spouses know what the proceedures were for notification if something had happened, so that they wouldn't be frightened by the calls claiming our loved ones were dead (the military doesn't pass on that sort of thing over the phone!).
The next day, I wrote this:
Just got off the phone with D. - her husband is a SLt. with [Dh] on the Kootenay. She was worried. She and two of her neighbours - all in PMQs - got calls from a life insurance co. I found the company in the book - Confederation Life - but they were worried maybe they were peacemongers. D. said she's terrified to speak to anyone she doesn't know. She's worried that if they find out she's got a navy husband, she's (sic) be attacked. Her neighbours are worried, too. D. even got a call from her mom in Toronto warning her not to tell anyone her name or mention G. 's in the navy.
She spoke to G. last night. Some peace demonstrators tried to get to the ship but, of course, couldn't. Security's too tight. Instead, they threw trash can lids and anything else they could get their hands on. Real peaceful people.
When I read that part out to my family, Dh piped up that he remember that night. He was the security officer at the time. Of course, he couldn't tell me much (security reasons - the joy of being married into the military!), but I know things were pretty intense.
Reading all this, and looking at what's going on now, things haven't really changed much. If anything, the "peacemongers" are more dangrous now than they were almost 20 years ago.
Monday, March 01, 2010
One Year
We have officially been at our current address for one year.
Unofficially, it was really a few days ago, since we got the key and spent the last 2-3 days of February moving in. As far as the paperwork is concerned, we have been co-owners of this complex for a full year as of today.
It feels kinda good.
I still don't get any sense of permanence. With so many of our moves being totally unexpected, I don't know that I will ever feel that way again. After all, even if nothing bizarre happens again, eventually the kids will move out and we'll have no need for such a large place. Even if we end up moving into a smaller apartment within the complex, it's still a move. I sometimes wonder, though, if we'll ever have that permanent place that will be totally and completely our own? I thought we had that when we moved back to my home town - both times - but ... well, life happens, right? *L*
One thing about all these moves - my definition of "home" is a lot more flexible. In one way, "home" will always be the farm I grew up on, but it's also wherever we happen to be living at the time. While I still feel vaguely transient, even after being here for a year, no other city we've lived in has felt so much like "home" to me. Youngest and I got to meet up with a local family that just started home schooling and was looking to connect with other hs'ing families. The mother is originally from Norway, has had a few trans-atlantic moves over the years, and has been living in this city for about half the time that we have. While we were talking, she happened to comment that, of all the places she's lived, this was where she felt the most at home in! It was interesting to hear someone else using the exact same words I have in the past about this city. I've lived in interesting, diverse and downright enjoyable places before, but somehow, here is where I've felt the most... well... at home! There's just no better word I can think to use. I hadn't noticed the lack of this sense in our previous moves, but after moving here, there was an unexpected feeling of comfort. Like putting on a soft, cozy sweater and suddenly realizing how my other ones were actually rather stiff and uncomfortable.
There's a strong and active arts community here; a wide range of ethnic diversity, and an acceptance of a variety of lifestyles and religious beliefs. There are the back-to-the-earth granola crunchers next to big industry complexes; luddites next to bleeding edge technophiles. In no other city have I seen so many Hummers and Smart Cars.
While some of these groups may not like the others much, compared to other cities I've lived in, they are remarkably tolerant of each other. There's a general acceptance and "live and let live" attitude that's more tangible than in other places we've lived in. Ironically, this is also one of the cities that I've heard many nasty jokes about how people here are such backwards neandrethals. Mostly by people who've never lived here, and quite a few who've never even visited. Funny, that.
With the first 3 1/2 years in this city spent in a perpetual state of "we're just living in this spot temporarily!" I guess it'll take a bit longer before I get over the feeling that we're just waiting to find our permanent home. Heck, we're still slowly trying to buy furniture without needing to think of having to move it again. It takes a lot longer when we only get things we can pay for in full, rather than on credit. ;-)
Is this move permanent? Probably not, as I mentioned earlier. Still, I do expect to live here for quite a few years, at least.
Who knows what the future will bring?
Unofficially, it was really a few days ago, since we got the key and spent the last 2-3 days of February moving in. As far as the paperwork is concerned, we have been co-owners of this complex for a full year as of today.
It feels kinda good.
I still don't get any sense of permanence. With so many of our moves being totally unexpected, I don't know that I will ever feel that way again. After all, even if nothing bizarre happens again, eventually the kids will move out and we'll have no need for such a large place. Even if we end up moving into a smaller apartment within the complex, it's still a move. I sometimes wonder, though, if we'll ever have that permanent place that will be totally and completely our own? I thought we had that when we moved back to my home town - both times - but ... well, life happens, right? *L*
One thing about all these moves - my definition of "home" is a lot more flexible. In one way, "home" will always be the farm I grew up on, but it's also wherever we happen to be living at the time. While I still feel vaguely transient, even after being here for a year, no other city we've lived in has felt so much like "home" to me. Youngest and I got to meet up with a local family that just started home schooling and was looking to connect with other hs'ing families. The mother is originally from Norway, has had a few trans-atlantic moves over the years, and has been living in this city for about half the time that we have. While we were talking, she happened to comment that, of all the places she's lived, this was where she felt the most at home in! It was interesting to hear someone else using the exact same words I have in the past about this city. I've lived in interesting, diverse and downright enjoyable places before, but somehow, here is where I've felt the most... well... at home! There's just no better word I can think to use. I hadn't noticed the lack of this sense in our previous moves, but after moving here, there was an unexpected feeling of comfort. Like putting on a soft, cozy sweater and suddenly realizing how my other ones were actually rather stiff and uncomfortable.
There's a strong and active arts community here; a wide range of ethnic diversity, and an acceptance of a variety of lifestyles and religious beliefs. There are the back-to-the-earth granola crunchers next to big industry complexes; luddites next to bleeding edge technophiles. In no other city have I seen so many Hummers and Smart Cars.
While some of these groups may not like the others much, compared to other cities I've lived in, they are remarkably tolerant of each other. There's a general acceptance and "live and let live" attitude that's more tangible than in other places we've lived in. Ironically, this is also one of the cities that I've heard many nasty jokes about how people here are such backwards neandrethals. Mostly by people who've never lived here, and quite a few who've never even visited. Funny, that.
With the first 3 1/2 years in this city spent in a perpetual state of "we're just living in this spot temporarily!" I guess it'll take a bit longer before I get over the feeling that we're just waiting to find our permanent home. Heck, we're still slowly trying to buy furniture without needing to think of having to move it again. It takes a lot longer when we only get things we can pay for in full, rather than on credit. ;-)
Is this move permanent? Probably not, as I mentioned earlier. Still, I do expect to live here for quite a few years, at least.
Who knows what the future will bring?
Monday, January 11, 2010
What do you do when the shoe doesn't fit?
(this is a cross post from my home schooling blog, as I felt it fit here as much as it does there)
This blog post was brought to my attention this morning, and I really enjoyed it. Here's an excerpt.
I have seen and experienced this myself a number of times, and I just admit, it has left me very jaded about my fellow unschoolers. In fact, I've found myself frequently questioning the tolerance of the self-professed tolerant, and along with anti-Christian sentiment, I would also include political, geographical and other ideological intolerance as well.
While the writer talks about how few unschoolers there are compared to more regulated styles of home based education, I would say that has a lot more to do with where one lives, and what support groups are available. In all our moves, I've found the majority of my fellow home schoolers are more on the unschooling side of things than the stereotypical school-at-home style. If fact, I don't recall ever meeting any hs'ing family in the school-at-home extreme, but I've met quite a few that could be considered "radical" unschoolers. (Personally, I don't think either extreme is a good idea.) Most of the families I've encountered over the years tend to fall more towards the unschooling side of things - they have routines and maybe even purchased curriculum, or make their kids do sit-down bookwork at certain times, but are still very relaxed about things.
There's a general assumption made about the different styles of home schoolers. School at home types are viewed as Conservative, Right Wing, and Christian (and, by extension, racist bigots) - the more regulated the schooling style, the more to the right their political views, and the more extreme their religion is assumed to be. There is also a tendancy to view this category of home schoolers as anti-science, as well - young earth creationists and the like. There is probably some truth to the stereotype (after all, there's a reason stereotypes come about), but I just haven't encountered it personally. I've only read about them.
Unschooling types, on the other hand, are assumed to be left leaning, more socialist, and have little or no religion at all (agnostic or athiest), to be Unitarian if they're Christian, or Pagan, Buddhist (or at least their version of Buddhism), Secular Humanists, etc. In my experience, the left leaning tendancy of unschoolers leads to a higher number of AGW believers, and greater levels of environmental extremism.
Over the years, I've seen a very strong divide between the home schooling ideologies, and unfortunately, the most bigoted, least tolerant views I've encountered have been from my fellow unschoolers. I used to be part of a large, active Canadian home school email list. I finally left it when a troll was allowed to spew his vile unchecked, while those who tried to counter his bile were clamped down on by the moderator. This, on top of the anti-Christian sentiment and other bigotry I saw allowed on the list was the final straw, and I left a community I'd been part of for almost a decade. Sadly, I am seeing similiar intolerance within our local community as well - especially when it comes to topics such as AGW and environmentalism.
We are an unschooling family. Not out of ideology, but because that's what worked with our older daughter, and we just kept it up with our younger. Quite simply, our attempts to school-at-home, even slightly, were failures and set the girls, especially Eldest, back considerably. My definition of unschooling, however, is very broad, and I think a lot of unschoolers would disagree with me. I do not, for example, have any problem with sit down bookwork, or using a curriculum, text books, etc. To me, these are just tools and methods to be used or discarded, based on need. Some families simply do better with a more regimented schedule, and some kids need a more orderly learning style. As far as I'm concerned, as long as the methods are used because they best suit the child, not because of external beliefs on how education "should" happen, it's still unschooling. I know teens who have chosen to go back to high school. As far as I'm concerned, they're still unschooling, because it was their choice to use the school system as an educational resource. If a family is unschooling because the parents decided that this was the "right" way to educate children, but ignore that their individual child actually thrives better on something more regulated, I cannot think of that as actually unschooling. It's still a method that's forced onto the child, regardless of that child's needs or desires. The key, to me, is that the methods used are suited to the individual child, even if the parents don't necessarily think it's a good idea.
We are a Christian family. I am an ex-Catholic, but not anti-Catholic. Over the decades, as I've looked at different religions, belief systems, and the different types of Christianity, I find I still have greater respect for Catholicism than any of the others. I would, in fact, still consider myself catholic, as the word means "universal church," and therefore really encompasses most, if not all, the Christian faiths. I respect people who follow different faiths, even if I don't agree with them. What I've found, however, is that there is a very strong anti-Christian sentiment among unschoolers, and that tolerance for Christian faiths (except, possibly, Unitarianism, which I'm not sure is even a Christian faith at all) is very low. Secular Humanism and environmentalism are frequently the religions of choice (and yes, I consider both to be religions, every bit as dogmatic as the "fundamentalists" they often profess to abhor), but any religion that can be viewed as opposite to Christianity is acceptable. Heaven forbid this bias or religious double standard is pointed out, though. On the email list I mentioned before, people were supposed to be welcome to discuss their own beliefs, but in reality, people who expressed their Christian sentiments would be accused of proselytising. Christian bashing was allowed, but if anyone pointed out that that's what was being done, there would be a great outcry of how it wasn't really bashing, and besides, the bashers were right. Point out the double standed, and there would be another outcry, denying that there was one at all. It got very tiring.
I used to consider myself an environmentalist. Growing up on a subsistance farm, it was kind of hard not to be aware of the environment. Of course, going through the public school system, I got some of the indoctrination that was increasingly becoming part of the curriculum at the time. I am a strong believer in responsible environmental stewardship. I cannot, however, call myself an environmentalist anymore. What passes for environmentalism today has become a religion. It's assumed that if you're "green" you are against capitalism, and that you agree with a long list ideas, whether it's views on global warming, the use of DDT, or that humans are a blight on the planet. Responsible environmental stewardship has been co-opted by a political ideology that I find very disturbing. Here, the political left/right divide is very strong. Among environmentalists, I see the word "conserivative" used as an accusatory insult a lot, and it's assumed that if one is "green" they are also "liberal."
I am not a Darwinist. Now, to many, this automatically makes me a Right Wing extremist, a religious quake, a young earth creationist/ID nutbar who denies science and evolotuion. They would, of course, be wrong but, like environmentalism, Darwinism has become dogmatic. Part of the problem is that most people things evolution = Darwinism, and it doesn't. Even what people think of Darwinian evolution doesn't have much to do with what Darwin actually said or, according to his writings, believed. It turns out there are all sorts of alternative theories of evolution out there, and Darwin's is not even close to answering the problems of evolution. Unschoolers, in my experience, have been the most viscious in attacking anyone who dares question Darwinism, and no matter how much one tries to point out that there are alternative theories that are very bit as legitimate, they insist on calling those who disagree with them as religious, anti-science, anti-evolution, Right Wing nutbars. It's not quite as bad as, say, disagreeing with AGW, but it gets pretty close at times.
Politically, I tend towards libertarianism, but I'm not a Libertarian (when I looked into the local political party, I found them to be a bunch of anarchists). While a lot of my views can be considered conservative, others are considered liberal or socialist. I find the definition of Classial Liberal fits my views very well, but it doesn't seem to exist any more. This leads to all sorts of confusion in conversations. When I mention I am an unschooler, I've had other unschoolers assume I am also Liberal, or Green. When I mention my views on AGW, people assume I'm Conservative. What I mention my thoughts on Darwinism vs evolution, I've found myself dismissed as a religious nut.
So where do I fit? I've never been one to put labels on people, but there is a purpose to categorization. I don't seem to be a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I seem to be more like a dodecahedron trying to fit into a pentagon. Only one side fits at a time, but that leaves 11 other sides that don't fit anywhere.
This blog post was brought to my attention this morning, and I really enjoyed it. Here's an excerpt.
Now, on the whole, I've found unschoolers to be one of the most tolerant, kind, accepting groups of people there are. In my experience it's pretty rare to see an unschooler behave in a way that is blatantly racist or homophobic, and furthermore, unschoolers in general tend to be accepting of a wide variety of personalities and interests.
However.
I've also seen an awful lot of negative attitudes towards religious people, particularly Christians.
I have seen and experienced this myself a number of times, and I just admit, it has left me very jaded about my fellow unschoolers. In fact, I've found myself frequently questioning the tolerance of the self-professed tolerant, and along with anti-Christian sentiment, I would also include political, geographical and other ideological intolerance as well.
While the writer talks about how few unschoolers there are compared to more regulated styles of home based education, I would say that has a lot more to do with where one lives, and what support groups are available. In all our moves, I've found the majority of my fellow home schoolers are more on the unschooling side of things than the stereotypical school-at-home style. If fact, I don't recall ever meeting any hs'ing family in the school-at-home extreme, but I've met quite a few that could be considered "radical" unschoolers. (Personally, I don't think either extreme is a good idea.) Most of the families I've encountered over the years tend to fall more towards the unschooling side of things - they have routines and maybe even purchased curriculum, or make their kids do sit-down bookwork at certain times, but are still very relaxed about things.
There's a general assumption made about the different styles of home schoolers. School at home types are viewed as Conservative, Right Wing, and Christian (and, by extension, racist bigots) - the more regulated the schooling style, the more to the right their political views, and the more extreme their religion is assumed to be. There is also a tendancy to view this category of home schoolers as anti-science, as well - young earth creationists and the like. There is probably some truth to the stereotype (after all, there's a reason stereotypes come about), but I just haven't encountered it personally. I've only read about them.
Unschooling types, on the other hand, are assumed to be left leaning, more socialist, and have little or no religion at all (agnostic or athiest), to be Unitarian if they're Christian, or Pagan, Buddhist (or at least their version of Buddhism), Secular Humanists, etc. In my experience, the left leaning tendancy of unschoolers leads to a higher number of AGW believers, and greater levels of environmental extremism.
Over the years, I've seen a very strong divide between the home schooling ideologies, and unfortunately, the most bigoted, least tolerant views I've encountered have been from my fellow unschoolers. I used to be part of a large, active Canadian home school email list. I finally left it when a troll was allowed to spew his vile unchecked, while those who tried to counter his bile were clamped down on by the moderator. This, on top of the anti-Christian sentiment and other bigotry I saw allowed on the list was the final straw, and I left a community I'd been part of for almost a decade. Sadly, I am seeing similiar intolerance within our local community as well - especially when it comes to topics such as AGW and environmentalism.
We are an unschooling family. Not out of ideology, but because that's what worked with our older daughter, and we just kept it up with our younger. Quite simply, our attempts to school-at-home, even slightly, were failures and set the girls, especially Eldest, back considerably. My definition of unschooling, however, is very broad, and I think a lot of unschoolers would disagree with me. I do not, for example, have any problem with sit down bookwork, or using a curriculum, text books, etc. To me, these are just tools and methods to be used or discarded, based on need. Some families simply do better with a more regimented schedule, and some kids need a more orderly learning style. As far as I'm concerned, as long as the methods are used because they best suit the child, not because of external beliefs on how education "should" happen, it's still unschooling. I know teens who have chosen to go back to high school. As far as I'm concerned, they're still unschooling, because it was their choice to use the school system as an educational resource. If a family is unschooling because the parents decided that this was the "right" way to educate children, but ignore that their individual child actually thrives better on something more regulated, I cannot think of that as actually unschooling. It's still a method that's forced onto the child, regardless of that child's needs or desires. The key, to me, is that the methods used are suited to the individual child, even if the parents don't necessarily think it's a good idea.
We are a Christian family. I am an ex-Catholic, but not anti-Catholic. Over the decades, as I've looked at different religions, belief systems, and the different types of Christianity, I find I still have greater respect for Catholicism than any of the others. I would, in fact, still consider myself catholic, as the word means "universal church," and therefore really encompasses most, if not all, the Christian faiths. I respect people who follow different faiths, even if I don't agree with them. What I've found, however, is that there is a very strong anti-Christian sentiment among unschoolers, and that tolerance for Christian faiths (except, possibly, Unitarianism, which I'm not sure is even a Christian faith at all) is very low. Secular Humanism and environmentalism are frequently the religions of choice (and yes, I consider both to be religions, every bit as dogmatic as the "fundamentalists" they often profess to abhor), but any religion that can be viewed as opposite to Christianity is acceptable. Heaven forbid this bias or religious double standard is pointed out, though. On the email list I mentioned before, people were supposed to be welcome to discuss their own beliefs, but in reality, people who expressed their Christian sentiments would be accused of proselytising. Christian bashing was allowed, but if anyone pointed out that that's what was being done, there would be a great outcry of how it wasn't really bashing, and besides, the bashers were right. Point out the double standed, and there would be another outcry, denying that there was one at all. It got very tiring.
I used to consider myself an environmentalist. Growing up on a subsistance farm, it was kind of hard not to be aware of the environment. Of course, going through the public school system, I got some of the indoctrination that was increasingly becoming part of the curriculum at the time. I am a strong believer in responsible environmental stewardship. I cannot, however, call myself an environmentalist anymore. What passes for environmentalism today has become a religion. It's assumed that if you're "green" you are against capitalism, and that you agree with a long list ideas, whether it's views on global warming, the use of DDT, or that humans are a blight on the planet. Responsible environmental stewardship has been co-opted by a political ideology that I find very disturbing. Here, the political left/right divide is very strong. Among environmentalists, I see the word "conserivative" used as an accusatory insult a lot, and it's assumed that if one is "green" they are also "liberal."
I am not a Darwinist. Now, to many, this automatically makes me a Right Wing extremist, a religious quake, a young earth creationist/ID nutbar who denies science and evolotuion. They would, of course, be wrong but, like environmentalism, Darwinism has become dogmatic. Part of the problem is that most people things evolution = Darwinism, and it doesn't. Even what people think of Darwinian evolution doesn't have much to do with what Darwin actually said or, according to his writings, believed. It turns out there are all sorts of alternative theories of evolution out there, and Darwin's is not even close to answering the problems of evolution. Unschoolers, in my experience, have been the most viscious in attacking anyone who dares question Darwinism, and no matter how much one tries to point out that there are alternative theories that are very bit as legitimate, they insist on calling those who disagree with them as religious, anti-science, anti-evolution, Right Wing nutbars. It's not quite as bad as, say, disagreeing with AGW, but it gets pretty close at times.
Politically, I tend towards libertarianism, but I'm not a Libertarian (when I looked into the local political party, I found them to be a bunch of anarchists). While a lot of my views can be considered conservative, others are considered liberal or socialist. I find the definition of Classial Liberal fits my views very well, but it doesn't seem to exist any more. This leads to all sorts of confusion in conversations. When I mention I am an unschooler, I've had other unschoolers assume I am also Liberal, or Green. When I mention my views on AGW, people assume I'm Conservative. What I mention my thoughts on Darwinism vs evolution, I've found myself dismissed as a religious nut.
So where do I fit? I've never been one to put labels on people, but there is a purpose to categorization. I don't seem to be a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I seem to be more like a dodecahedron trying to fit into a pentagon. Only one side fits at a time, but that leaves 11 other sides that don't fit anywhere.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Still alive!
(yet another attempt to finish this post!)
Yes, after all this time, I'm still around. *L* I can't believe we've been here a week, and I still haven't posted this!
The move took place over three grueling days. We got the key later than expected, as the renovations took longer than usual. It ended up costing them about $11,000 to get it all done, and the co-op is going to be taking the previous resident to court over the damage she left behind.
The first day, we had the move in inspection. I really liked how the pale green walls turned out, and can live with the carpet and flooring. (Eldest has already submitted a request to the maintenance committee with paint samples to do her room in something other than white. I believe Youngest has a colour choice in there, too. This is entirely on their own incentive.) They did a great job with the renovations.
The girls and I made several trips hauling boxes - as much as we could fit into the car - right after the inspection. Then we continued packing again, which we'd had to stop for lack of space.
The second day, we rented a truck and moved furniture. Thankfully, Dh was able to get the day off. I can't say enough how much I appreciate my big, strong, burly husband! He was truly amazing! Yeah, the girls and I busted our butts, too, but nothing like he was able to do! I couldn't believe it when he simply picked up Eldest's antique pedal push sewing machine and walked it up the front steps. Those things are friggin' heavy! And he was in so much pain, too. By the end of the day, he could barely stand up straight, and was using a cane because of his knees.
Renting the truck was an adventure in itself. We had the elevator booked from 2-4 in the afternoon, but were set to pick up the truck at U-haul at noon. All we wanted was a 10 footer. It's a good thing we went to pick it up so early! First, they couldn't find a key for the truck that had been reserved for us. Then, they were going to replace it with a 27 footer. !!! I don't know that a truck that big would even fit where we needed to park to unload. In the end, it wasn't an issue, as the guy dealing with us was over ruled and couldn't give us a bigger truck. Instead, he had to get the one 10 ft truck they had left. The reason it was still there? It was stuck. It took him a good 10 minutes, at least, to get it out.
Dh and Eldest went in the truck while Youngest and I drove back in the car. In fact, Youngest and I never even saw the interior of the truck cab at all. *L* Dh found it a horrible ride - very rough - and the thing was so old, the speedometer was in miles per hour. Canada converted to the metric system over several years in the late 1970's.
Oh, and we were extra glad what I'd bought a dolly (though we used it converted to a hand truck most of the time). When we reserved the truck, we'd asked for 2 dollies. When we told them we didn't need them after all, we were told "good - because we don't have any." :-/ From the looks of theirs, the one we bought for ourselves was much better, anyhow.
We were actually able to get the elevator a half hour early, and boy did we need it! The "freight" elevator is no bigger than any of the other elevators. The only difference is that it has a back door. Since we also needed room for two people, with one being able to reach the buttons, not a whole lot could be taken down at one time. (And just to make things even more "fun," one of the elevators was still in the process of being replaced - which left only 1 elevator to service 19 floors.)
It took us two loads to get the furniture out. We barely made it within the time we had the elevator booked for. Someone else was moving in and had it booked after us, and they were already backing their truck into the loading area when we came back for the second load. At that point, we were just grabbing and throwing together everything we could, as quickly as we could.
The second load was small, but it had the biggest, heaviest piece of furniture we've got: a desk. It's designed to be useable from both sides, so it's wider than most desks, and is solid hardwood. It was a real monster to get up those stairs on the dolly!
As soon as we unloaded the truck, we rushed to return it, glad to be rid of it. Then we took a supper break before getting back to work - though we had to drop Dh off at the new place, as he was in no condition to continue.
Why it is that, no matter how much you pack, there always seems to be more? And it's those little things that make it the hardest.
The girls were such an incredible help. Eldest, who was in pretty rough shape herself, having been helping her father the most with the loading and unloading of the truck (all that weight lifting she and Dh had been doing for the past few months sure came in handy!), helped me clear out rooms while Youngest started cleaning rooms as they emptied. She actually likes cleaning, so that worked out.
We finally gave up for the night, as we were just too sore and tired. We made sure we had things set up enough to sleep on, and that was it. Thanks to Dh being very insistent, we no longer had a move-out inspection the next morning. Instead, we had the entire day to finish up and clean.
It all took a lot longer than expected, again mostly because everyone was so sore. Actually, Youngest was the only one of us that was ok. *L* Dh couldn't manage to come with us at all until much later - he had to really watch himself, because the last thing he wanted was to hurt himself so badly, he couldn't go to work. Not that it ended up making a difference, but more on that later.
The girls and I managed for a while, but Eldest finally had to stop. As things got later, I ended up coming back on my own to do that last few things. I was about 3/4 done vacuuming the living room when I discovered our vacuum cleaner was badly clogged, and I couldn't fix it. (It ended up having to be partially dismantled). After fighting with it for a while, I gave in. I did a bit more wiping down, packed up the fridge and freezer stuff, and headed out. It was past midnight by the time I left, and I was feeling pretty bad about not being able to finish cleaning properly - though I admit I was too tired to be too guilty about it.
My night wasn't over yet, though. We'd been eating out for the past several days, and were all craving home cooked food. Since we hadn't done any shopping to avoid having a lot of food to move, we didn't have even the basics to make a breakfast. So I headed over to a 24 hour Walmart before heading home, so we could at least have breakfast. By the time I got home, it was coming up on 4 am.
In the morning, Dh and Eldest went back to the apartment for the move-out inspection. There was no way I was going to make it in! I asked Dh to send my apologies for the state of the apartment, but it turned out to be unnecessary. They were actually very happy over how much we'd done. They were going to steam clean the carpets and paint the walls anyways, so not doing those was ok. As for the deep cleaning in other areas, it was just going to come off our damage deposit. We figure we might get about 1/3 of it back, but based on past experience, we're not counting on it.
So by Sunday afternoon, we were completely free and clear of the apartment! The move was officially done.
Now we have the fun part of trying to figure out how to unpack everything. Although we have more space, the layout is different enough that some things just don't have places anymore. Plus we'll need to get furniture we were able to get away with not having, like dressers, now that we no longer have walk-in storage rooms with shelving in our bedrooms. Little by little, though, things are being unpacked.
Dh had recovered rather well physically, having been so careful in regards to his back and knee problems. Unfortunately, he still ended up missing work. He'd made it in on the Monday, but by Tuesday, he'd come down with a vicious cold. Three days later, it was even worse! When he called in sick for a 4th day, he was told he needed to get a doctor's note. So, instead of being where he should have been - in bed, drinking hot liquids - he spent 2 3/4 hours in the waiting room of a walk in clinic, just so he could pay a doctor $20 for a piece of paper saying he was too sick to go to work. Gee, that makes so much sense. Not. The dr. was actually a bit alarmed by Dh's symptoms, and ended up prescribing anti-biotics, just in case Dh's sinuses get worse instead of better. Hopefully, we won't need to fill it. He seems to be getting better.
Meanwhile, we're all quite happy with our new home. Even the cats settled in remarkably quickly. We weren't too concerned about Eldest's cat - this is her forth move with us - but Youngest's new cat is a lot more hyper. They both seem to really enjoy all the extra space they have to run around in!
The girls are loving having their own rooms, though Youngest's room is much colder than the other rooms. It's the only room that isn't completely on top of the lower level. Instead, it's partly above the entryway. It doesn't look like the floor is insulated much. Meanwhile, the rest of the upper level tends to be almost too hot, while the lower level stays cold. We've yet to work out a happy balance with keeping various vents open and closed to regulate the temperature. All in good time.
Our views out the back are pretty impressive, and we've got a large Red Mountain Ash (Rowan) tree in front that attracts quite a few birds.
We've also already had the maintenance guy over to fix a few little things. I was wrong on my assumptions about the colour changes. It turns out that it was a committee decision to change the colours, not just the one guy. We happened to run into him while going into the high rise and he came over with us, bringing along a cover for our kitchen light he'd had to have special made, as it's a discontinued line. While he was here, he fixed a couple of taps we discovered had problems, replaced the peep hole that accidentally got partially painted over during the renovations, and a few other little things. He also took back the CFL bulbs we'd replaced with regular incandescent bulbs. We may not want the things in our home, but maybe someone else will want them. All of this on a moment's notice. This weekend, he's going to be looking for some insulators for the outlets on the outside wall for us. We can feel cold drafts coming in from them. He also made sure to tell us that, if there's anything we think we need, to check with him first in case he already has it, so that we don't spend money we don't need to. I thought that was kind of neat!
All in all, it looks like things are going to really work out well here.
The only downside I'm finding is my own physical issues. I had expected my arm to be a concern, but it is feeling really great, even after lugging stuff around for 3 days. What I didn't expect was for my knees to be as much a problem as they are. I've long had troubles going down stairs, but since the move, it's been worse. I find myself having to go down stairs turned sideways, taking each step one at a time while bracing myself on the wall and rail because of the pain in my knees. Painkillers don't seem to be helping any. The noises coming out of my knees these days are nothing short of spectacular, too! I can't seem to move them at all without all sorts of crackling, popping and snapping sounds. It would be amusing, if it didn't hurt so much at the same time. It's been a long time since I've been in this much pain. Granted, it's been worse, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with! *L*
Ah, well. Such is life. I'll get used to it.
And hopefully, I'll be back to posting more regularly again, too.
Yes, after all this time, I'm still around. *L* I can't believe we've been here a week, and I still haven't posted this!
The move took place over three grueling days. We got the key later than expected, as the renovations took longer than usual. It ended up costing them about $11,000 to get it all done, and the co-op is going to be taking the previous resident to court over the damage she left behind.
The first day, we had the move in inspection. I really liked how the pale green walls turned out, and can live with the carpet and flooring. (Eldest has already submitted a request to the maintenance committee with paint samples to do her room in something other than white. I believe Youngest has a colour choice in there, too. This is entirely on their own incentive.) They did a great job with the renovations.
The girls and I made several trips hauling boxes - as much as we could fit into the car - right after the inspection. Then we continued packing again, which we'd had to stop for lack of space.
The second day, we rented a truck and moved furniture. Thankfully, Dh was able to get the day off. I can't say enough how much I appreciate my big, strong, burly husband! He was truly amazing! Yeah, the girls and I busted our butts, too, but nothing like he was able to do! I couldn't believe it when he simply picked up Eldest's antique pedal push sewing machine and walked it up the front steps. Those things are friggin' heavy! And he was in so much pain, too. By the end of the day, he could barely stand up straight, and was using a cane because of his knees.
Renting the truck was an adventure in itself. We had the elevator booked from 2-4 in the afternoon, but were set to pick up the truck at U-haul at noon. All we wanted was a 10 footer. It's a good thing we went to pick it up so early! First, they couldn't find a key for the truck that had been reserved for us. Then, they were going to replace it with a 27 footer. !!! I don't know that a truck that big would even fit where we needed to park to unload. In the end, it wasn't an issue, as the guy dealing with us was over ruled and couldn't give us a bigger truck. Instead, he had to get the one 10 ft truck they had left. The reason it was still there? It was stuck. It took him a good 10 minutes, at least, to get it out.
Dh and Eldest went in the truck while Youngest and I drove back in the car. In fact, Youngest and I never even saw the interior of the truck cab at all. *L* Dh found it a horrible ride - very rough - and the thing was so old, the speedometer was in miles per hour. Canada converted to the metric system over several years in the late 1970's.
Oh, and we were extra glad what I'd bought a dolly (though we used it converted to a hand truck most of the time). When we reserved the truck, we'd asked for 2 dollies. When we told them we didn't need them after all, we were told "good - because we don't have any." :-/ From the looks of theirs, the one we bought for ourselves was much better, anyhow.
We were actually able to get the elevator a half hour early, and boy did we need it! The "freight" elevator is no bigger than any of the other elevators. The only difference is that it has a back door. Since we also needed room for two people, with one being able to reach the buttons, not a whole lot could be taken down at one time. (And just to make things even more "fun," one of the elevators was still in the process of being replaced - which left only 1 elevator to service 19 floors.)
It took us two loads to get the furniture out. We barely made it within the time we had the elevator booked for. Someone else was moving in and had it booked after us, and they were already backing their truck into the loading area when we came back for the second load. At that point, we were just grabbing and throwing together everything we could, as quickly as we could.
The second load was small, but it had the biggest, heaviest piece of furniture we've got: a desk. It's designed to be useable from both sides, so it's wider than most desks, and is solid hardwood. It was a real monster to get up those stairs on the dolly!
As soon as we unloaded the truck, we rushed to return it, glad to be rid of it. Then we took a supper break before getting back to work - though we had to drop Dh off at the new place, as he was in no condition to continue.
Why it is that, no matter how much you pack, there always seems to be more? And it's those little things that make it the hardest.
The girls were such an incredible help. Eldest, who was in pretty rough shape herself, having been helping her father the most with the loading and unloading of the truck (all that weight lifting she and Dh had been doing for the past few months sure came in handy!), helped me clear out rooms while Youngest started cleaning rooms as they emptied. She actually likes cleaning, so that worked out.
We finally gave up for the night, as we were just too sore and tired. We made sure we had things set up enough to sleep on, and that was it. Thanks to Dh being very insistent, we no longer had a move-out inspection the next morning. Instead, we had the entire day to finish up and clean.
It all took a lot longer than expected, again mostly because everyone was so sore. Actually, Youngest was the only one of us that was ok. *L* Dh couldn't manage to come with us at all until much later - he had to really watch himself, because the last thing he wanted was to hurt himself so badly, he couldn't go to work. Not that it ended up making a difference, but more on that later.
The girls and I managed for a while, but Eldest finally had to stop. As things got later, I ended up coming back on my own to do that last few things. I was about 3/4 done vacuuming the living room when I discovered our vacuum cleaner was badly clogged, and I couldn't fix it. (It ended up having to be partially dismantled). After fighting with it for a while, I gave in. I did a bit more wiping down, packed up the fridge and freezer stuff, and headed out. It was past midnight by the time I left, and I was feeling pretty bad about not being able to finish cleaning properly - though I admit I was too tired to be too guilty about it.
My night wasn't over yet, though. We'd been eating out for the past several days, and were all craving home cooked food. Since we hadn't done any shopping to avoid having a lot of food to move, we didn't have even the basics to make a breakfast. So I headed over to a 24 hour Walmart before heading home, so we could at least have breakfast. By the time I got home, it was coming up on 4 am.
In the morning, Dh and Eldest went back to the apartment for the move-out inspection. There was no way I was going to make it in! I asked Dh to send my apologies for the state of the apartment, but it turned out to be unnecessary. They were actually very happy over how much we'd done. They were going to steam clean the carpets and paint the walls anyways, so not doing those was ok. As for the deep cleaning in other areas, it was just going to come off our damage deposit. We figure we might get about 1/3 of it back, but based on past experience, we're not counting on it.
So by Sunday afternoon, we were completely free and clear of the apartment! The move was officially done.
Now we have the fun part of trying to figure out how to unpack everything. Although we have more space, the layout is different enough that some things just don't have places anymore. Plus we'll need to get furniture we were able to get away with not having, like dressers, now that we no longer have walk-in storage rooms with shelving in our bedrooms. Little by little, though, things are being unpacked.
Dh had recovered rather well physically, having been so careful in regards to his back and knee problems. Unfortunately, he still ended up missing work. He'd made it in on the Monday, but by Tuesday, he'd come down with a vicious cold. Three days later, it was even worse! When he called in sick for a 4th day, he was told he needed to get a doctor's note. So, instead of being where he should have been - in bed, drinking hot liquids - he spent 2 3/4 hours in the waiting room of a walk in clinic, just so he could pay a doctor $20 for a piece of paper saying he was too sick to go to work. Gee, that makes so much sense. Not. The dr. was actually a bit alarmed by Dh's symptoms, and ended up prescribing anti-biotics, just in case Dh's sinuses get worse instead of better. Hopefully, we won't need to fill it. He seems to be getting better.
Meanwhile, we're all quite happy with our new home. Even the cats settled in remarkably quickly. We weren't too concerned about Eldest's cat - this is her forth move with us - but Youngest's new cat is a lot more hyper. They both seem to really enjoy all the extra space they have to run around in!
The girls are loving having their own rooms, though Youngest's room is much colder than the other rooms. It's the only room that isn't completely on top of the lower level. Instead, it's partly above the entryway. It doesn't look like the floor is insulated much. Meanwhile, the rest of the upper level tends to be almost too hot, while the lower level stays cold. We've yet to work out a happy balance with keeping various vents open and closed to regulate the temperature. All in good time.
Our views out the back are pretty impressive, and we've got a large Red Mountain Ash (Rowan) tree in front that attracts quite a few birds.
We've also already had the maintenance guy over to fix a few little things. I was wrong on my assumptions about the colour changes. It turns out that it was a committee decision to change the colours, not just the one guy. We happened to run into him while going into the high rise and he came over with us, bringing along a cover for our kitchen light he'd had to have special made, as it's a discontinued line. While he was here, he fixed a couple of taps we discovered had problems, replaced the peep hole that accidentally got partially painted over during the renovations, and a few other little things. He also took back the CFL bulbs we'd replaced with regular incandescent bulbs. We may not want the things in our home, but maybe someone else will want them. All of this on a moment's notice. This weekend, he's going to be looking for some insulators for the outlets on the outside wall for us. We can feel cold drafts coming in from them. He also made sure to tell us that, if there's anything we think we need, to check with him first in case he already has it, so that we don't spend money we don't need to. I thought that was kind of neat!
All in all, it looks like things are going to really work out well here.
The only downside I'm finding is my own physical issues. I had expected my arm to be a concern, but it is feeling really great, even after lugging stuff around for 3 days. What I didn't expect was for my knees to be as much a problem as they are. I've long had troubles going down stairs, but since the move, it's been worse. I find myself having to go down stairs turned sideways, taking each step one at a time while bracing myself on the wall and rail because of the pain in my knees. Painkillers don't seem to be helping any. The noises coming out of my knees these days are nothing short of spectacular, too! I can't seem to move them at all without all sorts of crackling, popping and snapping sounds. It would be amusing, if it didn't hurt so much at the same time. It's been a long time since I've been in this much pain. Granted, it's been worse, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with! *L*
Ah, well. Such is life. I'll get used to it.
And hopefully, I'll be back to posting more regularly again, too.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Falling into place
All the details of the move are falling into place. My husband was able to get the afternoon off on Friday, so we've changed the time we've booked for the elevator for something earlier, which also gave us a longer time slot. I've got a time booked for the move in inspection, which means we get our keys Thursday morning. The girls and I will start hauling boxes over with the car pretty much right away.
Tomorrow will be our last day of cooking before the move, and we'll be using disposables for eating and drinking, which will allow me to completely pack the kitchen, other than what's in the fridge. It will also be our last day of nothing but sorting, getting rid of a few last things and packing. Once we have the keys and can start moving things out, we'll be able to start at least a bit on the cleaning, but I'm not too worried about that at this point.
My darling husband was also able to convince the leasing office to schedule the move-out inspection to the first. The weird part about that is that they kept insisting they couldn't change the time because it was their policy - that we had to be out by noon on the last day of the month, as they didn't have staff available for an inspection later in the day. My husband pointed out that we were paid up for the month, not the month minus half a day. He also told them that if they insisted on this, then we weren't going to bother coming back to clean the place, and might not bother being there for the move-out inspection at all.
That's when the person looked up our apartment in their system and discovered that the new tenant won't actually be moving in until the 2nd.
Funny, how they were suddenly willing to accommodate us.
So this will give us a full day to clean an empty apartment, which will make life SO much easier. It'll reduce the cleaning time by a huge amount, not having to work it around stuff. It will certainly make it better for us physically, as we will have time to get a good night's sleep after we move everything out and at least unpack our bedding, rather than have to come back in the evening, then again in the morning. I know only too well how tired we're going to be!
I also made arrangements with them to do the carpet cleaning, rather than us phoning around to find a company. I've been asked to let them know when we're done our cleaning, and they'll take care of the carpet after that. Another detail I no longer need to worry about.
Which means that this will be my last post here for a few days. The next post I make will be from our new home.
It's going to feel so good when it's over.
Tomorrow will be our last day of cooking before the move, and we'll be using disposables for eating and drinking, which will allow me to completely pack the kitchen, other than what's in the fridge. It will also be our last day of nothing but sorting, getting rid of a few last things and packing. Once we have the keys and can start moving things out, we'll be able to start at least a bit on the cleaning, but I'm not too worried about that at this point.
My darling husband was also able to convince the leasing office to schedule the move-out inspection to the first. The weird part about that is that they kept insisting they couldn't change the time because it was their policy - that we had to be out by noon on the last day of the month, as they didn't have staff available for an inspection later in the day. My husband pointed out that we were paid up for the month, not the month minus half a day. He also told them that if they insisted on this, then we weren't going to bother coming back to clean the place, and might not bother being there for the move-out inspection at all.
That's when the person looked up our apartment in their system and discovered that the new tenant won't actually be moving in until the 2nd.
Funny, how they were suddenly willing to accommodate us.
So this will give us a full day to clean an empty apartment, which will make life SO much easier. It'll reduce the cleaning time by a huge amount, not having to work it around stuff. It will certainly make it better for us physically, as we will have time to get a good night's sleep after we move everything out and at least unpack our bedding, rather than have to come back in the evening, then again in the morning. I know only too well how tired we're going to be!
I also made arrangements with them to do the carpet cleaning, rather than us phoning around to find a company. I've been asked to let them know when we're done our cleaning, and they'll take care of the carpet after that. Another detail I no longer need to worry about.
Which means that this will be my last post here for a few days. The next post I make will be from our new home.
It's going to feel so good when it's over.
Monday, February 23, 2009
More frustration - but at least some good news, too
Shortly after we made the arrangements for our move, there were a few things we were told that would have made things quite a bit easier, as far as the details of actually moving go. I was told we should have the last 5 days of the month to move in, for starters.
Well, that's not quite working out. At first, I expected we'd get the keys on the 24th. Then my husband talked to them and was told the 25th. This morning, I got a call and found that we get our keys after a move in inspection, which we have to book for the 26th.
It seems that so much work has been needed to finish this unit, it won't be until the 25th that they'll have a company come in to clean the ducts.
Here's the frustration. When I gave our notice to our current landlords, the final date we have this place is the 28th. Now, from previous moves out of apartments, I've encountered situations where tenant one has to be out by noon on the 1st, so that tenant two can move in after noon on the same day. So having a move out date of the 28th... well, it's a good thing we have an empty place to move into.
Then we got a note from the landlord talking about, among other things, the move out inspection. We were given a choice of two time slots in two days. The 27th and the 28th! And both time slots were in the morning.
We don't even have the elevator booked until the early evening of the 27th. How on earth are we supposed to have a move-out inspection before we've moved out?
We're booked for the later time slot on the 28th. It's still going to be tight. We've got a cleaning list and, while it's pretty basic (sad, that they have to go so far as tell people they need to replace burnt out light bulbs), it's a lot of work, even with an empty apartment. Since the inspection is on the morning after move out, we'll have to come back late in the day, just to clean the place. Sure, we can do some of it in advance, but some of it will have to wait until the place is empty. Oh, and we're supposed to hire a company to do a professional carpet cleaning. No home rentals and doing it ourselves. They do give the option of letting them book it for us, for a set fee. We'll be going that route. I have to find out if that will come out of our damage deposit.
Which is another frustration. In the 3 years we've been on this floor, we are the only ones *still* here. Every other apartment on this floor has seen multiple tenants during this time. Some apartments, like the one directly across from our door, has seen as many as 5 different tenants. Granted, some of these are internal moves - people moving to different apartments within the complex - but that's still a high turnover.
So we've have plenty of opportunity to see what goes on in between tenants. Some apartments have needed renovations, so they obviously were empty for a while. Nothing like that is going to happen with us, though. There's already another tenant listed for our apartment! I am guessing it's another internal move, since they've never shown the place.
With a quick turnover like this, we have often seen the building maintenance staff cleaning the apartments after the tenants have left. Not just a professional carpet cleaning, but basic washing of floors and walls, etc. Plenty of people leave without doing ANY cleaning.
Now, I can't bring myself to do that, but at the same time, going through this list, I don't see how we'll have the energy to do so thorough a cleaning right after we've finished moving into our new place, then be back for a morning inspection.
Since I have to call them about the carpet cleaning anyhow, I think I'll ask about the damage deposit, and if I can just use that to pay for cleaning. :-/
The good news, at least, is that we now have set dates and mostly set times. I still have to hear back from the person I have to book a move in inspection with. I've left a message. I was told that, if I can't get through to her, I should call back the office and I'll get booked with someone else. We can book the inspection for early on the 26th, get the keys, and we're done. We can start moving in right away. The girls and I will make at least a few trips to get some boxes and bins out. I will probably empty at least one of the bins out so we can use it to move refrigerator contents.
*sigh*
Had things gone the way they were supposed to, we'd be doing a move in inspection and getting the keys tomorrow instead of 3 days from now.
Ah, well. We'll manage. It's not like we have much choice.
Well, that's not quite working out. At first, I expected we'd get the keys on the 24th. Then my husband talked to them and was told the 25th. This morning, I got a call and found that we get our keys after a move in inspection, which we have to book for the 26th.
It seems that so much work has been needed to finish this unit, it won't be until the 25th that they'll have a company come in to clean the ducts.
Here's the frustration. When I gave our notice to our current landlords, the final date we have this place is the 28th. Now, from previous moves out of apartments, I've encountered situations where tenant one has to be out by noon on the 1st, so that tenant two can move in after noon on the same day. So having a move out date of the 28th... well, it's a good thing we have an empty place to move into.
Then we got a note from the landlord talking about, among other things, the move out inspection. We were given a choice of two time slots in two days. The 27th and the 28th! And both time slots were in the morning.
We don't even have the elevator booked until the early evening of the 27th. How on earth are we supposed to have a move-out inspection before we've moved out?
We're booked for the later time slot on the 28th. It's still going to be tight. We've got a cleaning list and, while it's pretty basic (sad, that they have to go so far as tell people they need to replace burnt out light bulbs), it's a lot of work, even with an empty apartment. Since the inspection is on the morning after move out, we'll have to come back late in the day, just to clean the place. Sure, we can do some of it in advance, but some of it will have to wait until the place is empty. Oh, and we're supposed to hire a company to do a professional carpet cleaning. No home rentals and doing it ourselves. They do give the option of letting them book it for us, for a set fee. We'll be going that route. I have to find out if that will come out of our damage deposit.
Which is another frustration. In the 3 years we've been on this floor, we are the only ones *still* here. Every other apartment on this floor has seen multiple tenants during this time. Some apartments, like the one directly across from our door, has seen as many as 5 different tenants. Granted, some of these are internal moves - people moving to different apartments within the complex - but that's still a high turnover.
So we've have plenty of opportunity to see what goes on in between tenants. Some apartments have needed renovations, so they obviously were empty for a while. Nothing like that is going to happen with us, though. There's already another tenant listed for our apartment! I am guessing it's another internal move, since they've never shown the place.
With a quick turnover like this, we have often seen the building maintenance staff cleaning the apartments after the tenants have left. Not just a professional carpet cleaning, but basic washing of floors and walls, etc. Plenty of people leave without doing ANY cleaning.
Now, I can't bring myself to do that, but at the same time, going through this list, I don't see how we'll have the energy to do so thorough a cleaning right after we've finished moving into our new place, then be back for a morning inspection.
Since I have to call them about the carpet cleaning anyhow, I think I'll ask about the damage deposit, and if I can just use that to pay for cleaning. :-/
The good news, at least, is that we now have set dates and mostly set times. I still have to hear back from the person I have to book a move in inspection with. I've left a message. I was told that, if I can't get through to her, I should call back the office and I'll get booked with someone else. We can book the inspection for early on the 26th, get the keys, and we're done. We can start moving in right away. The girls and I will make at least a few trips to get some boxes and bins out. I will probably empty at least one of the bins out so we can use it to move refrigerator contents.
*sigh*
Had things gone the way they were supposed to, we'd be doing a move in inspection and getting the keys tomorrow instead of 3 days from now.
Ah, well. We'll manage. It's not like we have much choice.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
We've got a date
As of today, we have a solid move-in date. Truck is reserved, elevator is booked. Keys to be picked up a couple of days earlier, so we can make a few trips with the car with smaller stuff.
The unit isn't quite finished yet. They're sanding and painting the baseboards before putting them back. There's that final vacuum to get rid of the dust from renovating, and they're bringing a company in to clean the ducts.
Meanwhile, we've got boxes. We've got packing tape. We've got markers.
Time to get down and dirty. :-D
The unit isn't quite finished yet. They're sanding and painting the baseboards before putting them back. There's that final vacuum to get rid of the dust from renovating, and they're bringing a company in to clean the ducts.
Meanwhile, we've got boxes. We've got packing tape. We've got markers.
Time to get down and dirty. :-D
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Empty walls
A bit more progress on the move today - there's only so much you can do before you're looking at stuff that you'll actually need to use before actual moving day. Since we've been in a semi-permanent state for the last 3 years, I've reached that level rather quickly.
One of today's big jobs is to clear the walls. (The other is cleaning the oven... grumblewhinesnark) I'm just sitting a bit to let the blood return to my arms. The joys of being short. ;-)
Right now, all I've got left on my walls are a few hangers that will have to wait until my much taller husband gets home, a clock and a calendar. Everything else is white.
No more posters, maps, photos, paintings by my daughter... it's all blank.
Blinding, empty, white walls.
The same white our bedrooms will be in the new place.
Well, at least the rest of the place won't be white.
Now to find ways to pack stuff. Things that have frames and glass get wrapped in the linens. That way, I pack up two areas at once, and I don't have to buy special packing materials to protect my breakables.
Then it's back to the oven.
It's going to be SO good when we get to the point that I can just pack everything and not pick and choose what has to wait.
One of today's big jobs is to clear the walls. (The other is cleaning the oven... grumblewhinesnark) I'm just sitting a bit to let the blood return to my arms. The joys of being short. ;-)
Right now, all I've got left on my walls are a few hangers that will have to wait until my much taller husband gets home, a clock and a calendar. Everything else is white.
No more posters, maps, photos, paintings by my daughter... it's all blank.
Blinding, empty, white walls.
The same white our bedrooms will be in the new place.
Well, at least the rest of the place won't be white.
Now to find ways to pack stuff. Things that have frames and glass get wrapped in the linens. That way, I pack up two areas at once, and I don't have to buy special packing materials to protect my breakables.
Then it's back to the oven.
It's going to be SO good when we get to the point that I can just pack everything and not pick and choose what has to wait.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Yet another disappointment
.
I finally got a call back from the co-op about the townhouse we're moving into at the end of the month. I had left a message asking about the colours, hoping that the woman I spoke to had reached the maintenance guy in time to get just the one colour for paint, and not use white. I'd forgotten she was on holidays, though, so it took a while, and it was another woman who called me back.
First, it turns out it was too late to catch the guy. The bedrooms and upstairs bathroom are in "cool white." Eldest has already said she doesn't plan to unpack until after she finds a colour they *will* approve, and paints her room herself. Of course, we will have to buy the paint and do the work ourselves, but she says she'll pay for it herself, if she has to. I don't blame her.
I did bring up during the call that we had the impression we could choose almost whatever colour we wanted for the bedrooms - I even double checked with the girls, in case I was remembering wrong, but they confirmed how I remembered it. We were asked to avoid colours that would be difficult to paint over (and clearly, their definition of "neutral" is much more limited than is typical). I suppose Youngest's colour might've been a bit much, but Eldest's was about 3 shades away from grey, and the bedroom and bathroom colours shouldn't have been a problem at all. Cost, however, was apparently another factor. It would've been nice to know that ahead of time. It seems the colours we picked would've been more expensive because of the tinting involved to get the shades. Having never had to buy interior house paint myself, I have no idea.
Second, the carpet colour was described to me at being "not the lightest" but a light shade of tan.
So it's basically beige.
Beige and white. That was pretty much my nightmare.
That wasn't the end, though. It turns out that our choice for lino, which hadn't been brought up when I found out about all this, was also not approved, because it was "too dark." The alternate? A light coloured "hardwood floor" pattern.
We had chosen a stonework pattern. One of the reasons I thought it was good was that, with the grey tones it had, including shades of grey, grey blue, greyish green and a hint of greyist pink, it was something easy to match with. However, with such a light carpet colour, of course it would look dark! Still, there were quite a few stone patterns in the sample book. If the guy had to pick something, couldn't he have gone with another stone pattern??
So we went from stone patterned floor to light hardwood, dusty rose carpet to beige, shades of green for bedrooms and a mid-tone blue for the bathroom, to white. The only colour we picked that stayed was a very pale shade of green we'd selected for the "public" areas, upstairs and down. A colour I know worked well with the other colours we picked, but I still can't picture going well with the colours the maintenance guy picked.
Suddenly, I feel sympathy for the woman that moved out.
Now, that there should be limits to what we could pick, I have no problem with. Budget constraints, I completely understand. Had we been told our colours weren't acceptable right away, we could've quickly picked something else. Time was of issue. I had dropped off the samples with our choices on Friday afternoon, shortly after 1pm, and they were buying the materials by Monday morning. I'm pretty sure we could've come up with something over the weekend.
On the one hand, we're getting a completely renovated townhouse, and we're not having to pay a dime towards the reno. And it's really not that the substitute choices are overly horrendous. I mean, we've lived in places with some pretty unfortunate colours and patterns before. When you rent a place, it's a given that you don't have a choice for that sort of thing.
This, however, isn't just another rental. This is supposed to be our upper-case-H Home. Not just another temporary abode, not knowing how long we'd be there, or not planning to be there for more than a few months. This is supposed to be long term. Not only that, but we are moving into an established community, a close neighbour, where everyone works together in a partnership that keeps things going. That we were able to choose our own colours was part of making this our Home, instead of just another place we happen to be living in for a while.
So it's not about the colours that bothers me. It's that we told we could make these choices, and one person took those choices away. And no one told us. We weren't given the option to make other choices. Suddenly, it's not going to be our Home anymore. It's just someone else's place that we're going to be living in. Someone who thinks we should live in beige and white and pale hardwood floors.
I still think it had more to do with the maintenance guy being ticked over the mess he had to clean up from the previous resident than because our colours. We did try to stay within the guidelines, as we understood them.
While talking on the phone, it was brought up again how they really try to stay with neutral because, should for some reason we end up leaving in just a few years, it makes it easier for them to prepare for the next residents. What I couldn't help thinking (and a nasty side of me wishes I'd said) was that, by doing this, they've pretty much guaranteed that we *will* be moving out in a fairly short time - just as soon as we can find a place that really will be ours, and were some guy I saw for about a minute, has the power to take away our choices and replace them with his own.
The woman I spoke to was very apologetic about it all. Like the other woman I spoke to, she seemed almost embarrassed to admit what had been done to us. She tried to explain the whys of it, but I think she realized that "why" wasn't the issue. It was the "how."
I'm still looking forward to the move. We've needed a bigger place - and the lower costs - for a while. It's a step up from where we are now. It may even be that, after we've moved in, I'm going to totally love being there, get to know some fantastic people (the ones I've had the chance to talk to so far have been great), and we all might really enjoy living there and never want to leave. Until we actually move in and live there for a while, who knows?
But right now?
Right now, it's become just another apartment, just another house, just another rental.
Just another place we happen to be living in.
It's just another home, instead of Home.
And that makes me feel very sad.
I finally got a call back from the co-op about the townhouse we're moving into at the end of the month. I had left a message asking about the colours, hoping that the woman I spoke to had reached the maintenance guy in time to get just the one colour for paint, and not use white. I'd forgotten she was on holidays, though, so it took a while, and it was another woman who called me back.
First, it turns out it was too late to catch the guy. The bedrooms and upstairs bathroom are in "cool white." Eldest has already said she doesn't plan to unpack until after she finds a colour they *will* approve, and paints her room herself. Of course, we will have to buy the paint and do the work ourselves, but she says she'll pay for it herself, if she has to. I don't blame her.
I did bring up during the call that we had the impression we could choose almost whatever colour we wanted for the bedrooms - I even double checked with the girls, in case I was remembering wrong, but they confirmed how I remembered it. We were asked to avoid colours that would be difficult to paint over (and clearly, their definition of "neutral" is much more limited than is typical). I suppose Youngest's colour might've been a bit much, but Eldest's was about 3 shades away from grey, and the bedroom and bathroom colours shouldn't have been a problem at all. Cost, however, was apparently another factor. It would've been nice to know that ahead of time. It seems the colours we picked would've been more expensive because of the tinting involved to get the shades. Having never had to buy interior house paint myself, I have no idea.
Second, the carpet colour was described to me at being "not the lightest" but a light shade of tan.
So it's basically beige.
Beige and white. That was pretty much my nightmare.
That wasn't the end, though. It turns out that our choice for lino, which hadn't been brought up when I found out about all this, was also not approved, because it was "too dark." The alternate? A light coloured "hardwood floor" pattern.
We had chosen a stonework pattern. One of the reasons I thought it was good was that, with the grey tones it had, including shades of grey, grey blue, greyish green and a hint of greyist pink, it was something easy to match with. However, with such a light carpet colour, of course it would look dark! Still, there were quite a few stone patterns in the sample book. If the guy had to pick something, couldn't he have gone with another stone pattern??
So we went from stone patterned floor to light hardwood, dusty rose carpet to beige, shades of green for bedrooms and a mid-tone blue for the bathroom, to white. The only colour we picked that stayed was a very pale shade of green we'd selected for the "public" areas, upstairs and down. A colour I know worked well with the other colours we picked, but I still can't picture going well with the colours the maintenance guy picked.
Suddenly, I feel sympathy for the woman that moved out.
Now, that there should be limits to what we could pick, I have no problem with. Budget constraints, I completely understand. Had we been told our colours weren't acceptable right away, we could've quickly picked something else. Time was of issue. I had dropped off the samples with our choices on Friday afternoon, shortly after 1pm, and they were buying the materials by Monday morning. I'm pretty sure we could've come up with something over the weekend.
On the one hand, we're getting a completely renovated townhouse, and we're not having to pay a dime towards the reno. And it's really not that the substitute choices are overly horrendous. I mean, we've lived in places with some pretty unfortunate colours and patterns before. When you rent a place, it's a given that you don't have a choice for that sort of thing.
This, however, isn't just another rental. This is supposed to be our upper-case-H Home. Not just another temporary abode, not knowing how long we'd be there, or not planning to be there for more than a few months. This is supposed to be long term. Not only that, but we are moving into an established community, a close neighbour, where everyone works together in a partnership that keeps things going. That we were able to choose our own colours was part of making this our Home, instead of just another place we happen to be living in for a while.
So it's not about the colours that bothers me. It's that we told we could make these choices, and one person took those choices away. And no one told us. We weren't given the option to make other choices. Suddenly, it's not going to be our Home anymore. It's just someone else's place that we're going to be living in. Someone who thinks we should live in beige and white and pale hardwood floors.
I still think it had more to do with the maintenance guy being ticked over the mess he had to clean up from the previous resident than because our colours. We did try to stay within the guidelines, as we understood them.
While talking on the phone, it was brought up again how they really try to stay with neutral because, should for some reason we end up leaving in just a few years, it makes it easier for them to prepare for the next residents. What I couldn't help thinking (and a nasty side of me wishes I'd said) was that, by doing this, they've pretty much guaranteed that we *will* be moving out in a fairly short time - just as soon as we can find a place that really will be ours, and were some guy I saw for about a minute, has the power to take away our choices and replace them with his own.
The woman I spoke to was very apologetic about it all. Like the other woman I spoke to, she seemed almost embarrassed to admit what had been done to us. She tried to explain the whys of it, but I think she realized that "why" wasn't the issue. It was the "how."
I'm still looking forward to the move. We've needed a bigger place - and the lower costs - for a while. It's a step up from where we are now. It may even be that, after we've moved in, I'm going to totally love being there, get to know some fantastic people (the ones I've had the chance to talk to so far have been great), and we all might really enjoy living there and never want to leave. Until we actually move in and live there for a while, who knows?
But right now?
Right now, it's become just another apartment, just another house, just another rental.
Just another place we happen to be living in.
It's just another home, instead of Home.
And that makes me feel very sad.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Disappointment
We've been pretty busy, preparing the apartment for the upcoming move. The landlord is sending someone over to inspect the apartment to see if any renovations are needed. They gave us a 5 day spread, starting tomorrow, of when someone might be coming over. Of course, the place is a disaster right now, as we sort through things and decide what to get rid of, what can be packed early and, of course, cleaning.
The girls and I have seen the new place, which was an even worse disaster than our apartment right now. *L* The previous resident was actually voted out - a rare thing in a co-0p - and she'd left quite a mess behind. She'd made a lot of unapproved changes that will need to be fixed during the renovation. We brought home samples to choose the new lino, carpet and paint colours.
Since they have to keep in mind that, if we end up moving out a few years down the road, they'll have to do this again, we were asked to keep the "public" areas in more neutral colours. In other words, avoid things like bright red, which would be almost impossible to paint over, but we could choose whatever we wanted for the bedrooms and upstairs bathroom (oh, and the place really is the second and third levels - there's an assisted living unit underneath us). The girls picked dark greens for their bedrooms, I picked a mid-range greyish blue for the bathroom to match the lino, and a mid-range green for the master bedroom. The rest was going to be a very pale green. All four of us liked a dusty rose colour for the carpet and a mixed stone pattern with greys, blues and dark greens for the lino. We were pretty excited about our choices, and I got positive responses when I dropped off the swatches and showed our choices at the office.
This morning I called the co-op to get our new postal address. After getting it, the woman I was talking to then dropped the bad news.
The maintenance guy rejected most of our colour choices.
The very pale green and the lino were ok, but he chose a tan colour for the carpet and the other walls were going to be cool white. I'm hoping she was able to get ahold of him before he bought the paint, as he was already leaving to get it. I quickly told her that, if he had to change the colours, to just do all of it in the very pale green. The last thing we wanted was white!!!
Now, she wasn't the least bit happy telling me this. When I showed her our choices, the only thing she did was make sure I realized how dark those greens would be in a whole room for the girls' choices. I'd left it to the girls to choose whatever they wanted, and she was ok with that. There aren't "public" areas, after all.
Apparently, the maintenance guy can not only overrule our choices, but can make his own choices without consulting us. I guess this sort of hits it home. Although we're part owners of the complex once we buy are shares, and the unit is ours, it's not really ours. (Hmm... doesn't that contradict a democratically run complex?)
We completely understand their need to keep future costs down - the carpet alone will cost $8000 to replace - but we would have appreciated it if we could've had another chance to decide. Or at least be told our choices were being rejected before he went to buy something else! I could've given her other choices over the phone, if time was such an issue. Otherwise, why give us a choice in the first place? Perhaps he's still reeling from all the chemicals he's had to use to fix what the previous resident did - he'd just acid washed the tub when we saw the place, and he still had to strip the paint she'd used on the metal bannister.
The thing is, part of the excitement of getting our own place was that we were finally able to choose our own colours. Sure, our choices were somewhat limited - I found that reasonable - but it irks me to no end that our choices were simply taken away from us arbitrarily by one person.
So now I'm not sure about the colours at all. The carpet will be "tan." Well, that could be any number of the colours in the sample book. We'd actually considered a couple of them. I'm really hoping that it isn't beige. Beige would be as bad as white walls. However, we picked the pale green because it went well with the dusty rose carpet. I'm having a hard time imagining that green against any of the "tan" samples I remember in the book.
*sigh*
The girls and I have seen the new place, which was an even worse disaster than our apartment right now. *L* The previous resident was actually voted out - a rare thing in a co-0p - and she'd left quite a mess behind. She'd made a lot of unapproved changes that will need to be fixed during the renovation. We brought home samples to choose the new lino, carpet and paint colours.
Since they have to keep in mind that, if we end up moving out a few years down the road, they'll have to do this again, we were asked to keep the "public" areas in more neutral colours. In other words, avoid things like bright red, which would be almost impossible to paint over, but we could choose whatever we wanted for the bedrooms and upstairs bathroom (oh, and the place really is the second and third levels - there's an assisted living unit underneath us). The girls picked dark greens for their bedrooms, I picked a mid-range greyish blue for the bathroom to match the lino, and a mid-range green for the master bedroom. The rest was going to be a very pale green. All four of us liked a dusty rose colour for the carpet and a mixed stone pattern with greys, blues and dark greens for the lino. We were pretty excited about our choices, and I got positive responses when I dropped off the swatches and showed our choices at the office.
This morning I called the co-op to get our new postal address. After getting it, the woman I was talking to then dropped the bad news.
The maintenance guy rejected most of our colour choices.
The very pale green and the lino were ok, but he chose a tan colour for the carpet and the other walls were going to be cool white. I'm hoping she was able to get ahold of him before he bought the paint, as he was already leaving to get it. I quickly told her that, if he had to change the colours, to just do all of it in the very pale green. The last thing we wanted was white!!!
Now, she wasn't the least bit happy telling me this. When I showed her our choices, the only thing she did was make sure I realized how dark those greens would be in a whole room for the girls' choices. I'd left it to the girls to choose whatever they wanted, and she was ok with that. There aren't "public" areas, after all.
Apparently, the maintenance guy can not only overrule our choices, but can make his own choices without consulting us. I guess this sort of hits it home. Although we're part owners of the complex once we buy are shares, and the unit is ours, it's not really ours. (Hmm... doesn't that contradict a democratically run complex?)
We completely understand their need to keep future costs down - the carpet alone will cost $8000 to replace - but we would have appreciated it if we could've had another chance to decide. Or at least be told our choices were being rejected before he went to buy something else! I could've given her other choices over the phone, if time was such an issue. Otherwise, why give us a choice in the first place? Perhaps he's still reeling from all the chemicals he's had to use to fix what the previous resident did - he'd just acid washed the tub when we saw the place, and he still had to strip the paint she'd used on the metal bannister.
The thing is, part of the excitement of getting our own place was that we were finally able to choose our own colours. Sure, our choices were somewhat limited - I found that reasonable - but it irks me to no end that our choices were simply taken away from us arbitrarily by one person.
So now I'm not sure about the colours at all. The carpet will be "tan." Well, that could be any number of the colours in the sample book. We'd actually considered a couple of them. I'm really hoping that it isn't beige. Beige would be as bad as white walls. However, we picked the pale green because it went well with the dusty rose carpet. I'm having a hard time imagining that green against any of the "tan" samples I remember in the book.
*sigh*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)