New Year's Eve

I've been home for a week, nursing a wretched cold/flu/crud. I missed the "Don't Make Us Count It" Sale at the shop last week (my guess is that Heleen is going to make me count all the inventory in payment for her having to work every day, while I snuffled and slept through the whole week). We had our best month ever in sales in December, increasing more than 50% over November, which was our previous best month ever by 33% over October. I miss the shop when I can't be there. But Heleen said to stay away, as we didn't need Pam-germs all over the yarn.

So here it is the end of the week, end of the month and end of the year 2011. I wish I could think of something profound to say, but it seems as though each year I just hope the world will regain its sanity and that the following year will be "better." I've been thinking this for a few years now, which tells me that things are getting worse, year by year, not better. There are things to be grateful for of course, but in the darkness of the Winter Solstice, tissue-clapped-to-my-face, and head stuffed with illness, it is hard to remember what those blessings are?

We're relatively (barring the latest punkiness), healthy and continue to be most happy with each other and our life together. Our children are healthy, though not necessarily happy, which is always a source of long-distance concern. Juli's visit did us all some good, I think, though her life is not getting any easier yet. Hopefully, we helped her regain some balance and grounding in familial love, while she continues to deal with her losses. We don't hear from Alex much. We hope that no news is good news.

January is shaping up into a month of comings and goings for Bill and me. Next week, we will go up to Illinois for the funeral/interrment of his parents' ashes at Camp Butler in Springfield on the 6th (pausing first in Jacksonville to pick up the last of his father's belongings left in storage). Then Bill goes to Florida on the 8th for a two-week course in firefighting, first aid, and other shipboard certifications, and to Virginia on the 23rd for a week for Maersk training. I leave on the 27th for Florida, where Jeannie and I will debark on a week-long cruise in the Caribbean.

I have never been on a cruise. Bill jokes that for him to go on a cruise, they have to pay him, so I am taking the opportunity to check it out and reward myself for a year's hard work in the amiable company of girlfriend/cousin Jean. We should have a wonderful time, frolicking and resting!

Bill Gets His First Deer, New Dog & Where did November Go?

It's been a crazy, crazy 6 weeks since the last blog!

The shop has been non-stop busy since our big splash on Heritage Days. Droves of new customers, back-to-back knitting and crocheting lessons.

On October 29th, I drove to Marietta, GA to pick up a new Malinois, a one-year old female named Etta. She and Ozzie have become fast friends.

Bill flew to Illinois from Japan on Nov. 13, cleared up some business with the lawyer about his father's estate, and drove one of the cars home to TN on the 16th. Hunting season had already begun, so we know where Bill spent his time each day!

On Sunday, after spending all day in the woods, a dejected Bill came home protesting "I've been doing this for 20 years, and the deer always WIN!" On Monday, Bill came home very late after darkness fell, accompanied by his new, somewhat lamented friend:

So, hunting season is over for Bill, now he's hard at work on the Honey-Do list. Juli flew to Los Angeles yesterday to spend a week with Gran. Next Tuesday, she will arrive in Tri-Cities, to vay-cay with the folks. We're looking forward to being with her after her Annus Horribilus.

I think it's safe to say that venison will be on the menu.

Whew. Here it is, the last day of November. Hard to remember where the time went.

Non-stop FUN!

Yesterday was crazy-busy. Jeannie and I set up a table outside the shop and she played the knitting-barker, waving people in. We made many new friends, signed a ton of people up for classes and the newsletter, and met so many who said "I didn't know you were here!" So Heritage Days has been a great success for the shop.

Up on the square, Heleen held court with some of our customers, selling hats, scarves and shawls, and teaching people to knit, right there on the spot.

At about 3, Jeannie and I made a dash across town to see Herman Cain. We got an awesome parking spot (a feat in itself), and waited for an hour, but his bus was running late, I'd promised MaryAnn that I'd be back so she could go have dinner with her visiting family, so we left. On our way home at 6, we saw the big campaign bus parked, so I have no idea when he finally arrived. Being the last stop on his Tennessee tour is like being the last flight out of Atlanta--you're going to be late. There was a respectably large crowd (maybe 600 people), and one lone sign in the back proclaiming "Obama/Biden 2012." No one bothered him, but several around us tisked-tisked as if feeling sorry for the poor deluded fool. Perhaps therapy would help?

We came home exhausted from our busy day, warmed up some lasagne, drank a lot of red wine, played with Ozzie and fell asleep by 9:30. What wimps.

Today, a more relaxed version of Heritage Days plays out, starting at noon. Whereas yesterday was about parades and contests, line dancing and cloggers in the streets, today will be a tamer version, with fewer crowds, but those willing to linger and shop leisurely. I always like Sunday better at Heritage Days.

We've been blessed with fabulous fall weather this weekend--warm sun, cool breezes and cloudless skies. Perfect to get everyone in the mood for fall.

Heritage Days a-comin'

Heritage Days was the first Rogersville event we attended, even before we moved here. They close off the downtown streets, vendors set up tents, musicians play non-stop, food trailers crank out the BBQ, fried Twinkies, curly fries, fried okra, and fried pickles (see a trend here)? The smells waft, the people smile. The library holds a massive book sale, the farmers bring their apples and alpacas, kids buy dangerous, hand-made toys, demonstrators show off historic crafts.
And this year, to top it off, Presidential candidate Herman Cain is coming for a stump-speech.

I can't wait. I love it all. Small town festival at its finest.

This year, Sunny Side Yarns will be demonstrating knitting and crocheting on the square, our shop will be open late Friday night through all-day Sunday, and we're cranking out shawls, hats, scarves--anything we can think of to bring in the business and make that register ring.

Now all we have to do is be ready to rock!

Autumn Arrives

My summer is gone. The new furnace is cranking out heat instead of A/C, with no break in between. (but it's really quiet, compared to the old one!) The crock pot is plugged in, I'm wearing a bathrobe and slippers, and thinking about chili, stew and soup. Leaves are clogging the gutters and cluttering the deck. The dog is scratching with seasonal allergies.

My nice clean basement is full of stuff again. My house is a mess of unpacked bags, laundry and dishes. Back to normal, in other words.

I wait for the weather to cool off so I can "do" things, and when it happens, I sit curled up on the couch watching "Chopped" reruns or take naps cuddled under a fuzzy blanket.

Donald "Bud" Plemitscher 1931 -2001

I got the phone call as I was driving into Indianapolis traffic on Tuesday morning. Bud's nurse said that he was "actively dying," and would probably pass within the hour. He died at 9:46 AM CDT, as I was exiting for the airport.

I had said my goodbye the night before. In his darkened room, as he lay dozing, I whispered to him that I was leaving in the morning; that I would take care of Bill and Carolyn; that it was okay for him to lay down his burden, and there was nothing to worry about.

I am glad he went peacefully, and without the gruesomeness of an artery blowout. Amy said that he went to sleep without regaining full consciousness.

Bill and Carolyn are handling it well, having expected this for a long time. Bill wrote me a sweet note, saying that who could have imagined that the California girl his father met in Maxie's trailer park in Broussard, Louisiana 30 years ago, would be his last visitor as he lay dying.

Here is the obituary I wrote for my father-in-law:

Donald "Bud" Plemitscher
1931-2011

Born in Springfield, IL, the third of four children of George Sr. and Frieda (Kluge) Plemitscher. Served with the First Marine Division in the Korean War, earning 3 battle stars. Upon discharge from the U.S. Marine Corps, he married Elsie Anne Valentine of Greenfield, IL in 1954. They were married for 55 years, until Anne's death in 2009.

Bud worked as an auto mechanic at several dealerships in Greenfield and Jacksonville; at Carnation in the maintenance department; freelance welding and refrigeration work in Central IL; and as a Journeyman Electrician in California, Texas, Florida and Louisiana. Bud and Anne then ran My Place (a food concession trailer) at Illinois fairs and festivals in their "retirement."

Bud survived throat cancer in 1987. People who met him since then will remember that he spoke with a prosthetic larnyx. His cancer returned in 2009, but he continued to enjoy life--playing music, spending time with family and friends, and riding his motor scooter around Jacksonville.

An accomplished musician, Mr. Plemitscher played electric bass and guitar, banjo, and especially accordions, many of which he electrified. He attended Grace Methodist church, was a member of both the VFW and American Legion, and served on many funeral details for fellow veterans.

He is survived by a brother, Robert (Nadine) of Long Beach, CA; a sister, Louise, of Florrissant, MO; his children, Carolyn (Scott Neilson) of Arvada, CO and William (Pamela Sink) of Rogersville, TN; his 3 grandchildren, Juliana and Alex Plemitscher, both of Seattle, WA, and Claire Neilson of Arvada, CO. His oldest brother George Jr, predeceased him.

Donald and Anne's ashes will be interred together at Camp Butler National Cemetery, and a graveside service is planned for a future date.

Rest in peace, Dad. You fought long and hard, and now you are with your beloved Anne.

Now is the hour of our discontent

The furniture is gone, except for 2 mattresses on the floor of each room to sleep on. The boxes and bins and bundles are all staged in a rough layout for the truck bed. I've started to stash small items under the seats and in the door pockets of the truck.

The laptop is sitting on top of a box--I am seated on a pillow in front of it. We eat with paper plates on our laps. I look at every remaining item with an eye to whether it will fit into the plan--or go out to the trash.

I've started gathering cleaning supplies and Kerne has been sweeping and vacuuming. We're eating leftover chicken, leftover pizza, leftover tacos, leftover broccoli. Today, after hauling furniture into the truck, furniture out to the curb (FREE!!), and furniture out to the storage shed at Gail's farm, we splurged and went for celebratory ice cream cones at Dairy Queen, then came home and collapsed into afternoon naps.

Tomorrow, we load the truck!

Light at the end of the tunnel--or is that a train?

I'm starting to see an end to this house-shoveling nonsense. We are reaching the tipping point of living here versus going to a hotel. Complicating matters is the "Fall Festival and Steam Show," in town this weekend, clogging the motels. But I did manage to get a room for our last night here, Monday, September 26.

Tomorrow, Kerne and I will run some errands, do our laundry (we're at critical mass, the time to either hit the laundromat or start turning our respective underwear inside-out), drop off boxes of charitable goods to charities, go to the post office and send boxes of stuff into the hinterlands to far-flung relatives.

We're selling furniture at the rate of about two pieces per day now, and only a few things are left. We need to buy a tarp, and rope and other supplies, and figure out a way to get the scooter up into the truck bed. Then it's just a matter of wedging in the rest of the boxes and furniture that are going to TN. Oh, and the other 4 accordions we found. (We're up to a total of 18 now).

We've been staging everything in the laundry room, which is roughly the size of my truck bed. I just hope it all fits.

Not too long now, and Oz and I can go home to our mountain.

If you write it, they will come...

My email to the extended family about Bud's "anytime-now" prognosis has prompted reaction. I am so glad my sister-in-law Carolyn flew in yesterday. She and I immediately went over to see Dad, who was absolutely thrilled to see her.

Bud's sister-in-law Nadine called. The health of Bud's siblings prevents any of them from seeing their brother. Bob and Nadine live in California and Louise lives in St. Louis. Apparently, Louise "wants her music back," but I have not been able to help her with that--I never found it in all the paper in this house. Even if I had, she has no way to come and get it, and I'm not going back to St. Louis again on this trip.

Today, we are taking Bud's storage stuff out to Gail's, along with his little Focus. Carolyn will drive me back to town in her rental car. Denise is going to teach me how she orders Bud's Ensure from the VA, so I can arrange for them to start sending it to him at the nursing home. I need to check on the status of his application to Quincy Veterans' Home. I need to touch base with Vanessa for what the homeless shelter needs and when they will pick that up.

We made about $400 at the impromptu yard sale on Saturday. The big stuff is still here, and I have listed the remaining major pieces on Craigslist. Someone is coming to look at an amp today.

I have to call Amy the Hospice nurse today to arrange her visit tomorrow in the morning, so she can talk to Carolyn. Carolyn is leaving around 10 am to go back to Denver. I need to get to the bank today too. Bob and Shelley from Indianapolis will be coming on Tuesday afternoon.

Busy, Busy. But I can finally see that there is going to be an end to this project, probably at the end of this week.

My life in Jacksonville, IL -- 30 years later

I am assailed by memory in this town. Everytime I turn around or drive down a street, I think of something in the past. I first came here in 1981, a full 30 years ago, at the end of a long motorcycle trip, and at the beginning of a relationship that would result in marriage, children, and a whole lifetime of memories.

And here I am again, adding on more memories for the future. I am a witness to my father-in-law's final journey, the last step of an 80-year life. Bud and I have always had a "prickly" relationship. His lifestyle and attitudes are so antithetical to what I believe, it's not been easy to forge a friendship with him. But I am here, the adult in the room, so I will get the job done with a clear conscience as my husband's proxy.

Yesterday, the Hospice nurse told me that we are very close to the end. She now knows the "how" of his dying, though not the "when." She is seeing visible signs of arterial degradation. With the cancer in his neck and jaw growing wildly, the inevitible end will come when the carotid arteries break down and rupture. He will bleed out rapidly and expire within 1-2 minutes. The nurse has begun preparing the entire staff with a plan for when this happens. As of last night, he is being given a mild tranquilizer morning and evening. When the rupture occurs, he will quickly get an injection of Versed (a fast-acting sedative), and go to sleep. There will be no pain or panic as he bleeds out.

This is really tough stuff.

In the meantime, there is the accumulation of a lifetime to deal with. Bud moved to this apartment last year. 380 square feet doesn't seem like it would hold much in terms of cubic storage space, but I can tell you that it holds about 100 garbage bags worth of paper. I have come across Christmas cards from the 1960s to the present. Birthday cards, Mother's and Father's Day cards, get-well cards, bank statements for the last 30 years, magazines, news clippings, letters and postcards, and about 2,000 solicitations for charitable donations. Thankfully, Bud didn't respond to any of these. Unhappily, he never threw any of them away. Just when I think I've reached the end of the paper, I find another bag, box or barrel chock-full of more. Last night, I found neatly tied plastic bags under the sink, full of bank statements from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

I'm going to say this once again: Seniors, please don't do this. My new motto is "If in doubt, throw it out!"

Today is Yard Sale Day. I have decided to flaunt the apartment complex rules and have a yard sale anyway. What can they do? Throw me out? Please.

Last night, I sold the washer and dryer. Today, hopefully the rest will go in bits and pieces at pennies on the dollar. Whatever is left will go to the homeless shelter early next week, into storage, or the dump, later in the week. If I sell the sofa today, Ozzie and I will go to a motel. I'm planning on loading up my truck (I love my new truck!) a week from today, and heading home, back to my real life.

There is still the cleaning of the apartment to be done (which will be easier when the stuff is out), and some details to attend to. Bill's relatives are starting to flock into town for their last goodbyes to Bud. Aunt Millie and Cousin Roger are coming today from Alton; Cousins Shelley and Bob from Indiana are coming Monday or Tuesday. People need connection with each other to process. They'll need to be fed. I am the hostess at this impromptu, lengthy wake.

Selfishly, I hope that Bud departs from this life peacefully and soon. He has fought for so long, and if he continues to fight, he only prolongs his pain and suffering. In his dying, he has shown so much courage--more so than in his living, I dare say. He deserves a serene and swift conclusion.

Shopping for Trucks, Back in the Swamp Zone

I had a nice drive up from Lexington yesterday. I even had time to stop and shop for trucks. At the first dealership, the woman who was helping me was really no help at all. Nothing on the lot fit my needs at the price I wanted to stay under, she hadn't bothered to read my email or do any research or prep for my arrival. Ergo, she really didn't want my business enough.

At the second, I actually drove what I thought I wanted (2011 Suzuki). But then the salesman treated me like an idiot. When I asked about the $2500 cash back, he said they had already accounted for that in their "sale" price (full MSRP minus the cash rebate). Then, he offered me $4,000 less than dealer trade in price for my cars. So let me get this straight--you're charging full price for your car and giving me much less than wholesale for my trades? Is it because I'm a woman, or do you just think I'm stupid? And I really didn't like the truck all that much either.

I took Ozzie out to the Canine Camp. He was not impressed.

When I got to Jacksonville in the early afternoon, I decided I really couldn't fume for the rest of the day. I needed at least one positive experience. I drove a Chevy. It felt like a monster truck and I couldn't really get a handle on where the boundaries of my track were. Then I drove the Dodge Ram--what a difference! It handled like a car, was smooth and easy to drive--sharp and responsive. Even the brakes were acceptable. And an 8 foot bed. But alas, no room for the dog.

I'll keep looking. I went out to the nursing home to see Bud, but he was sleeping. I stopped by the Straders', but they weren't home. On to the apartment, the sad little apartment. I started going through the dresser drawers and the piles of paper.

I found still MORE bags of loose coins. Cash in envelopes, long forgotten. Pictures and scrapbooks and memorabilia went in one box. I overheated the paper shredder with piles of Social Security notices from 2001-2007. I finally collapsed around 10 pm.

Now I'm up and ready to go for coffee. I'm hoping to take Bud out to the park this morning for an outing. Then I will be back, diving into still more paper and the sad remnants of his sad life.

Back to Illinois tomorrow

There are post-it notes and lists everywhere. Cardboard boxes, rolls of paper, tape and markers. I've done the laundry, packed my bag and checked the fridge for things that might rot in my absence. I'll work today, pack the car tomorrow and head back to Illinois for the big job of clearing out and cleaning up Dad's apartment.

I wrote Dad a long letter, letting him know that I wanted to sell his cars. I wanted to give him a few days to get over his initial "NO!" before I got there on Saturday. This is such a delicate dance between telling him what needs to be done, and letting him have some final semblance of dignity in directing his own future.

I got the first bill for the nursing home yesterday, for 9 days in August and 30 in September. More than $6,000. Stunning.

I think I'm over my initial creepiness of going through his stuff, sorting and discarding. I'm ready to get the job done this time. The apartment needs to be empty by September 30, and I want to go in and whip this thing into shape ASAP.

Then I can come home to my mountain and my knit shop, and get back to MY life.

Truck Soap Opera

I have been thinking the past month about buying a truck. I hate the mileage. I hate the culture. I hate the bouncy, rough ride. I hate the prices. I hate the thousands of configurations (Regular Cab, Super Cab, Club Cab, Crew Cab, Long Bed, Short Bed, 2x4, 4x4, Sport, etc.) Despite all that, I think the time has come where we need one of our vehicles to be a pickup.

At first, I thought I'd sell the Focus Wagon. It has 118,000 miles on it. Things are going to start going wrong. It's time for new brakes and tires (again!). I got the A/C fixed and the interior and exterior detailed, and researched all the websites for values, to get it ready for sale.

Then, after my trip to IL last week, I decided that after 38,000 miles, I really don't like the Hyundai all that much. I like the Focus' mileage and ride better. The Hyundai is worth more than I paid for it (thanks to the Cash for Clunkers rebate), and its value right now is substantial, but will drop dramatically from now on. The price of trucks being what they are, this is the smarter trade-in. So I got that one detailed yesterday--it looks brand new again.

And--perhaps I can bundle it with two of Dad's cars and come out of the deal without too much cash flowing south to buy said truck.

But what to buy? Compact, mid-size, full-size? Ford, Dodge, GMC, Chevy, Nissan, Suzuki, Toyota? Dodge can tow the most, Ford has the most available parts & service, Nissan and Toyota are overpriced, GMC and Chevy don't interest me for some reason. I like the Suzuki the best, it has the best warranty, but there are few new or used available, and the nearest dealer is in Virginia for warranty service, so what good is that? I'm car shopping again, with all the research angst that implies.

My idea is to drive up to IL with the Hyundai (sheet spread over everything so Ozzie-hair doesn't get in the now-clean carpet), trade it and the two Fords in on a truck, and then drive home with apartment detritus in back. I might even hook up his travel trailer and tow it to TN. I'll bet I could put a ton of stuff in the trailer too--well, not literally a ton, but a bunch.

It's an idea, slowly making itself into a plan.

Now, all I have to do is get the mental picture of Myself-as-Yahoo-in-Truck out of my head.

Loss

I spent most of last week fretting about my father-in-law, living (and dying) up in Jacksonville, IL. The hospice care team determined he could no longer live at home without 24-hour care, and had him all set to go to a local nursing home--then he heard the price and balked. There were many frantic emails and phone calls, and both Bill and I sent him emails trying to convince him that the nursing home at $150/day was better than paying someone $12/hour to be with him 24/7 ($288). His only other option was Jefferson Barracks Palliative Care down in St. Louis, which was free, but far away from any friends or his hospice team.

So, I boarded the dog, put myself in the car, and drove 600 miles. I was the tough cookie--I was the one who "incarcerated" him. I was the one to tell him that he was not going back to the apartment. I was the one who told him I was taking his checkbook, rummaging through his apartment and his belongings, selling his cars, taking away the last vestiges of his freedom.

He was pretty pissed, to say the least.

Friday, I took my Power of Attorney to the bank, got signed on all his accounts; met with the hospice nurse and social worker; called the TV and Lifeline people and got those services cancelled, packed up the TV receiver and returned the Lifeline ("help, I've fallen and can't get up) to the hospital; cleaned out his kitchen cabinets and took the food to Grace Methodist Church; met with the nursing home administrator (who went to high school with Bill) and arranged for us to take over the billing. I inventoried everything in his apartment and sent lists to Bill and Carolyn via email; cleaned out the refrigerator; started sorting through papers.

During my cleaning phase, I started finding $20 bills tucked in boxes of grits, taped to the underside of dresser drawers, stuck in the baseboards in the back of closets--things slowed down. The fact that he stashed money in odd places now meant I had to go through EVERYTHING. Every canister of oatmeal, every cereal box, every piece of junk mail in an envelope. Then I found the laundry basket in the closet filled with THOUSANDS of coins. I rolled coinage, to the tune of almost $400. I found a pie crust with a sell-by date of January, 1989. Really. (By the way, it looked fine. I would suggest that no one ever eat a pre-made graham cracker crust ever again).

Note to seniors: Do NOT do this, please.

I loaded my Hyundai (now known as the MusicMobile) with 14 accordions, 2 guitars, 1 banjo, 1 violin, all the coins, unpaid bills, keys to all the vehicles (he has 5), checkbook, signature stamp, paper goods, gifts we gave him that he never used, and some tools.

All the while, I was going to the nursing home and trying to cheer up Dad. I kept thinking how awful I'd feel, if this were being "done" to me. I felt downright disrespectful, tearing through his home and possessions. He has been through so much already. His tumor has turned his face into Elephant Man proportions. He cannot speak, because the bandages to absorb the drainage cover his neck--he can no longer use his artificial larnyx. His hands and feet are numb from the chemo. His wife is gone; she died in 2009. He is almost deaf. And now, the cancer is in his brain. He gets confused.

So much of aging (and dying) is about loss. Loss of mental and physical capabilities. Loss of loved ones. Loss of control over your own destiny and wishes. I'd be pissed too.

My September will be about vacating his apartment, packing away things he might need if he lasts through the fall and winter, selling all the sad junk in his apartment. There is very little to show for a lifetime in terms of material valuables. The musical instruments are his only legacy worth much at all. The rest is mostly sheets and towels that are 30 years old, boxes of photos that his decendents will wonder about (because they are not labelled), cheap particle board furniture, sagging chairs and sofas, and ugly lighting fixtures.

It is all so very sad.

Where'd my bed go?

Sometime in the wee dark hours filled with lightning, thunder and rain, Ozzie transformed himself six sizes smaller, wiggled under the barricades I had fashioned, squeezed himself into the 9" space behind the headboard and popped the air hose to the bed.

In the midst of a blessedly deep sleep, I dreamt that I was sinking, sinking...

I feel for his terror. I am sympathetic while he is shaking uncontrollably and drooling with anxiety. But when he messes with my sleep, I have no mercy. I dragged him out of his hidey-hole (accompanied by much whimpering and yelping), shoved him out of the bedroom and slammed the door.

Perched on the other side of the bed (the cavernous pit looming below and to the left), I went back to sleep.

Now I have to figure out how to re-attach the hose. If Ozzie were Lassie, I could just get him to crawl under there again and do it for me. Instead, I have to disassemble the frame and do it myself.

Not a great way to start the day...

Ahhhhh...

For the first time in a week, my house is less than 85 degrees. Relief. I had forgotten just how marvelous cool, DRY air can be. And quiet too, without the six fans blowing a steam-bath-like fog around.

Just in time for another round of house guests. Ray and Elaine are coming back from VT, and Joe from NJ is coming too. There will be much cooking, laughing, and yes, probably drinking into the wee hours. I haven't seen Joe since before my surgery in 2007. And it's always nice to be with R & E.

This should be a fun week at work too--a few beginning classes, some projects to design and knit in preparation for the following week's classes. I love my job.

I love my life.

I REALLY love air conditioning.

Day 6 - Still melting

Yesterday in Hats class, new friend Bonnie told me about her HVAC contractor after blanching at the price quoted for a new Heating & A/C unit. I called said contractor and gave him the salient details of what I had learned from my crash course on heat pumps from the internet: 2.5 ton, 13 SEER (Seasonal Energy Efficiency Rating), 9 HSPF (Heating Seasonal Performance Factor) and he quoted me a rough price of $4,000 instead of $5,000. Awesome.

He is coming today to look things over. In the Tennessee way of having to have a social conversation as part of any business conversation, we found out that we are mutual friends of Joe K., who did a fantastic job on the bathroom renovation.

This means of course, that all those boxes in the basement must be moved, in order to get to the furnace. Also, a hole will have to be cut in the wall that was built after the furnace was installed in 1996--the wall that has the 24" doorway that no old or new furnace can pass through. So, I have my work for the day--the day off that I was going to spend sweating, watching the NCIS marathon and knitting flowers for tomorrow's class.

Sigh.

At least I'm blogging! Two days in a row. This may be a trend.

Crazy, crazy life as we know it...

Here it is, the end of July. I guess it's time for the ubiquitous recap of the reasons for not blogging since May:

• Planted a major garden in pots on the porch and in the front beds. Zucchini, watermelon, beans, tomatoes, peppers, herbs, eggplant, lettuce, sweet potatoes and asparagus.


• Mom came to visit in June. It was awesome to spend time with her. I drove to Charlotte, NC to pick her up at Cousin Mary's house, stopping first at Ikea to load up more shelving units for the store.


• Revamped the store layout. Much hammering, assembling, lifting, pushing and shoving. We like it much better, have more space for playing and displaying.


• Cousin Jean came to visit and we made pickled beets. Yum.


• Harry never came back. Very sad. I liked the little guy and was getting used to him. It was like having a kid in college who only came home to do laundry. Sigh. Angst.


• Bill repaired the rotting timbers in the bridge over the creek, sawing out planks from a fallen oak with a chain saw. Required moral support and meals. Also, much listening to his ravings on Fast & Furious debacle. Took a trip up to RURAL (and I mean really RURAL) Virginia and got lost, which was the objective. Went fishing at sunset. Had a birthday party for B. Spent much time laughing and enjoying our time together.


• Record heat & humidity. Enervating.


• Knitting samples every night, teaching classes every day, going to work 5-6 days a week


• Internet satellite quit, requiring new installation with new company.


• Met with the Conservation Resource agency about making our land into more habitat for native species.


• Shopped for tractors.


• Juli's husband, Kerne, became seriously mentally ill, requiring hospitalization in the psych ward. Refused further treatment. Got crazier. Juli moved out for her own safety and filed for legal separation after he spent all their money. Ongoing situation, requiring much parental worry and heartache.


• Bill shipped out, July 22.


• Ray & Elaine came to visit, then left for Vermont. They'll be back August 3.


• Jean came for an overnight visit.


• Met with the SBA rep and talked about increasing business, marketing options and cash flow.


• Air conditioning quit 5 days ago, during a massive heat wave (upper 90s). Requires either a gigantic repair effort ($2000) or a massive new system ($5000), and even if we decide on which way to go, can't be scheduled until sometime next week.


• Went to Morristown Walmart yesterday and bought two little window A/C units (one for bedroom, one for kitchen) to get the house temp down into the lower 80s.

Which brings us up to date. Today, I have a Hats Class at 10:30, and a partners' meeting at 2. Then home to my hot house for more of the same.

Praying for rain and cooler temps.

Never Wake a Sleeping Baby

Well, I see that another month has just flown by, undocumented by my feeble attempts at blogging. I've been busy.

There's the yarn shop--doing extremely well in our first two months of business, hooray!--and there's Bill, (who needs very little maintenance, but still...), the house, the garden, the laundry (never-ending), and the 1 1/2 dogs:

I know it looks like they don't require my attention, but this is the "after" picture. After the frisbee, after the walks, after the feeding, watering, medicating, playing and cuddling. They are exhausted...and exhausting.

I spend almost every day at the shop--winding yarn, waiting on customers, working up calendars, ordering, and teaching Beginners' classes. I am finding the teaching is the most rewarding part for me. I love being able to share my passion for knitting with newbies, watching them take their first baby steps, picking up new skills and making stuff with their hands. Their enthusiasm ("Look, I made my first hat!") makes it all worthwhile.

When I come home, there are plants to be planted and watered (although the daily thundershowers have been helpful there), dinner to cook, and when I finally sit down, there are samples to knit. For every class I dream up, I have to make sure the pattern works and give everyone a tangible project to get excited about. I have made about eleventy-billion hats in the last month, just for a 4-session class. It's also important to use the yarn that we sell in the shop, for those who need step-by-step direction on a project, and to market our inventory.

It is very much like the cooking classes I used to teach in New York. Some people require a detailed recipe. These people never deviate from instructions, abandon the project if one ingredient is missing. Others are seat-of-the-pants cooks, almost pathologically incapable of following a recipe without changing one or two ingredients or methods. Knitters seem to be the same, either slavishly following a pattern down to the exact yarn, or leaning toward the opposite, casting on "whatever" number of stitches, or choosing to try any yarn that catches their gaze and trying to make it fit into the pattern.

Outside on the porch, I've planted tomatoes, peppers, strawberries, eggplant, rosemary, thyme, sage, cilantro, basil, parsley, cucumbers, lettuce and some asparagus seedlings, destined for a future asparagus bed. In the garden proper, I've got greenbeans, zucchini, yellow squash, watermelon, more cukes, more peppers and sweet potatoes. Bill has been fencing off the garden areas, to protect from critters. Ozzie seems to be the most destructive critter of them all--have you ever seen a dog rush down to the garden to chow down on produce? Ours does. Sigh. No wonder he has such bad gas!

Until next month...

It's Winter Again; No Wait, It's Summer!

Saturday afternoon and early evening, the skies opened up and spit hail the size of marbles. Chaz reported one at his house as big as a tangerine, and there were reports in town of broken skylights and cracked windshields. It was a doozy of a storm, with plenty of gale-force winds to blow the patio furniture over. Yesterday, it was in the high 80s--sultry, humid and hot. I had to break down and turn on the A/C to cool the house down at midnight so I could get some sleep. It was 82 in the house, and with my hot flashes, that was unacceptable. Harry showed up at eleven, looking dog-tired. He could barely put one big fat foot in front of the other, and he slogged in, curled up on the couch, and went right to sleep. He spent the night with us, and was gone, presumably back to his "other" house, before breakfast. What a funny little bassett-beagle! I am spending most of my time at the shop. Why did I think that things would get calmer, once the shop opened? It seems like there is more work to do now than can fit in a day! Today I have classes to teach, and I want to get started on setting up online sales this week. We have promos to plan and ideas to bring to fruition. So we're busier than ever.

We're Famous!

Here are the Sunny Side Girls in all our glory on Opening Day, April 1, 2011...

And here's the text of the article...

What fun we are having! Everyone says the shop looks and feels GREAT! All that painting and decorating paid off! When I go to work, it's almost as good as staying home!

Almost There...

Heleen and I managed to wrestle her boyfriend's Monster Truck (diesel, 4-wheel drive, stick shift) down to Atlanta and back--leaving at 5:30 am and getting back to town around 9 pm. In between, we walked about 20 miles through IKEA, loaded 4 push-pallets with 14 boxes of shelving units (about 67 pounds per box), 15 lighting fixtures and bulbs, display hooks, racks, miscellaneous items like toilet brushes, watering can, S-hooks, and what has become known as "the big-ass clock."

Heleen fell in love with the largest clock on the planet--about 20" in diameter, analog, with numbers about 6" high. I told her it belonged in a lecture hall seating about 4oo people (where every cabbage-head student could watch it from 200 yards away), and I'd be waiting for the bell to ring everytime I looked at it. She was not deterred. She wanted that clock!

I was completely blown away by the lighting department. You have to understand that while I love having light, I despise most lighting fixtures. They are ALL ugly. They cost too much. IKEA's selection was a revelation. I loved almost every one I saw, (and the incredibly low prices!) and the hard part was deciding just how high we wanted our electric bill to go. We bought pole lamps, clamp-on spotlights, table lamps, giant suspended paper-shaded lanterns, and one surprise stunner we are saving for MaryAnn on opening day--it's about the size of the moon, and is covered in paper flowers. (Well, MaryAnn said I needed to get in touch with my whimsical side). It's my justification. Heleen and I are going to put it together this weekend, while M is out of town, attending the Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince concert in Greensboro, NC.

And then, there's the YARN! Boxes and boxes of color and texture. We ooh and ahh over every discovery. Then we buckle down and get it listed into the POS computer (that's "Point of Sale" for those of you who thought I was swearing).

It took two days to assemble all the gorgeous white cubicle shelving. Now, we're shoving the finished units around, trying to arrange them in a pleasing and organized manner. Heleen is busily sewing our partition fabric "walls," and I am shampooing rugs and furniture. I donated our original couch from the Vallejo house. I have good memories of that sofa--Bill slept on it with his legs hanging over the sides, we'd prop infant Alex up in the corner so Juli could play with her baby brother)--our first furniture purchase 27 years ago. It belongs in the yarn shop instead of the basement for another 27 years!

One week to go. Whatever will be, will be...

A Good Day

Today was super Sunday. I had planned to go to the shop to work (still sorting, labeling and hanging thousands of knitting needles), but then Bill got up and made me waffles and bacon. Yum! Perhaps I'd just putter about at home for a change?

I noodled around on the computer while drinking coffee, made new wills and set up a trust for Bill and myself, then took a shower, baked biscotti (folding laundry while waiting for the timer), and watched TV. I dipped the biscotti in chocolate (white & dark), put away my clean clothes, sorted my seeds, transplanted the asparagus and tomato seedlings outdoors, seeded chives and cilantro in pots, cleaned the AeroGrow and planted salad greens, sat in the sunshine and planted a seedling tray of cucumbers, eggplant, miniature peppers (the ones they sell for $4.00 a box in the grocery), tiny tomatoes and strawberries, (designed for hanging baskets), filled up 3 window boxes with dirt for lettuce, and put out my birdfeeder that Jean gave me for my birthday. I cleaned off the dining room table and spray-painted a display rack for the store. I made Bill some nachos and did all the mountains of dishes I had created with my morning adventures. Then I made a fresh mango salsa, cooked some brown jasmine rice in orange juice and added some tart dried cherries, sauted some chicken and opened a bottle of champagne. (I needed it for the chicken, and I had to make sure it was tasty, so I tested it by having a glass or two while I was cooking).

Sometimes, I swoon when tasting my own cooking. This was such a moment.

I ate two helpings, had another glass of champagne, and set the pots to soak in the sink.

I didn't worry about anything.

I did all these chores and still felt totally relaxed.

It is good to have a day "off."

Home - On the Road - Home

Bill came home, dragging a cold from his 30-hours in the clutches of the airlines. On Sunday, I deemed him well enough for a quick trip up to Illinois to see how his father was doing. We threw our stuff and the dog in the car, made some ham sandwiches, and hit the road.

We arrived in Illinois around 8 pm, and marvelled at just how COLD the change in latitude made life difficult. It is still winter up there. Bill's dad is terribly thin now, unable to eat any solid food, living on three cans of Ensure per day, and very difficult to understand, as his jaw tumor has distorted his facial features to the point where he cannot enunciate his words coherently. It has to be very frustrating to him, as it is very painful for him to speak -- to go to that effort and not be understood is maddening.

Bill was able to do one nice thing for his father -- get his motor scooter out of winter storage and ride it back to the apartment, so that when warm weather finally comes, he'll be able to go out and ride it. In order to do this, Bill dressed in about 3 layers of clothing and stuck his dad's car floor mats under his shirt for a windbreak. Dad can no longer play the accordion, so he now has an electronic keyboard for entertainment. That and his motor scooter are about the only things he can enjoy in his life right now. Surprisingly, he is cheerful and indefatigable through all of this.

We celebrated my birthday by driving towards home on a gloomy, rainy day. We stopped in Evansville, IN to see LST 325, one of the last surviving LSTs from WWII. We happily scrambled up and down ladders, stepped through watertight doors and explored the ship. Amazingly, 170 of these ships were built in Evansville during the war, but they were not meant to last -- the outer hull is only 3/8" thick steel, and the decks that held 22 Sherman tanks are only 1/4" thick. The flat hull, perfect for running equipment up on beaches, made for what must have been a terrifying rolling voyage across the ocean. This particular ship was found in Greece, and sailed back by U.S. veterans across the Atlantic, before putting into the Mobile, AL shipyard for refurbishing. Amazing!

We then tooled down the road to Cousin Jean's, and went to Holly Hill Inn for dinner. It was "Tapas Tuesday," at the restaurant, so we dined on plates of mussels, pate, olives, almonds, stuffed eggs, croquettes, a divine pot roast, garlic potatoes, all accompanied by various wines. The winemaker stopped by our table to chat, and we found out she had gone to California Maritime Academy for a year (about 10 years after Bill attended) before transferring to UC Davis to become a winemaker. The pastry chef whipped up an impromptu dessert of lemon mousse on sponge cake, topped with a raspberry coulis. Wow. A great birthday dinner!

We arrived home yesterday, and after unloading the car, the three of us napped on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. I had about 47 birthday emails, which cheered me to no end.

Now it's time to get back to work. Back to the shop today to finish up some painting and make more decisions. Time is getting very short now, and the partners are all in a low-grade panic. Me? I'm confident we'll get done what we need to get done, and all will be well. I just want to open the doors and get started!

Guess Who's Coming to Breakfast

...and to what do my wandering eyes appear? Yes, it's long-lost Harry, sitting calmly on the porch, waiting for breakfast! He seemed genuinely happy to see us, racing around the house, stealing Ozzie's toys and gobbling down his kibble.

Then he went out, and hasn't come back.

I am feeling a little like a fair-weather friend here. Oh sure, pop in for a visit and then disappear again. Today was the very day I was going to move the crate down to the basement, sure at last that Harry wasn't coming back. Now he's got me on tinderhooks, waiting for his call. Sheesh.

Bill is due in tomorrow night, after a grueling 26 hours of travel from Singapore-Toyko-Atlanta-Tri-Cities. Luckily, he will be coming in just in time for a light dinner and sleep, all the better to get him started on an Eastern Time Zone schedule. I have a list a mile long for work to be done at the shop. I should let him sleep first, though.

What am I to do with these wandering men?

Country Music

I can always tell when it's time for Bill to come home. I find myself turning off the politics radio and switching over to twangy ballads of heartache and loneliness, toe-tappin' bar songs about strong women and manly men, songs of betrayal, regret, patriotism, arson, double-wide trailers, homesickness, muddy rivers, barbeque, huntin' dogs...well, you get the idea.

Country music covers the whole spectrum of real life, from the humdrum to the profound. Country also has a welcome sense of self-deprecating humor. Hence, the lyrics to "the best country song ever written":

I was drunk the day my mama got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got run over by a God-derned train...

You just can't beat country music for keeping you company in your yearning times. So, now the radios in both the cars are tuned properly, and I want my husband to come home. While this business is always "hurry up and wait," Bill says that he should be on a flight next week.

The other sure bellweather is that Bill's flight will arrive on the absolutely most inconvenient day and time. Next week is full of appointments and "must do" errands. So I'm guessing Tuesday or Thursday, since those days are already shaping up to be long and tiring.

So, come on home, darlin'.

Oh where, oh where?

This morning marks the third day that little Harry has not come home. I fear he may be truly gone this time. He went out as usual before breakfast on Friday, but never returned. As sad as I am, I am hoping this means that he finally found his way home to where he belonged in the first place, before he came to visit on January 18.

Ozzie moped around the house for a day, refused to eat and generally sighed a lot. He's over it now.

I spent yesterday at the shop, painting, painting, painting. It is starting to come together in a swirl of light, bright color! While I lost myself in the meditation of brushstokes, MaryAnn and Chaz moved display cases, Hannah and Maggie cleaned and dusted. Today, we are going to try and finalize some of the yarn orders.

Here's the dilemma: dozens of manufacturers, each carrying 30 different yarns in a multitude of fibers and blends, some of which come in 300 different colors. Then there's the budget, the space, the reviews (some yarns pill, bleed, split, smell bad, according to the online reviews), the Spring/Summer season versus Fall/Winter, trying to put together a good mix of weights, gauges, and fibers. Add to that the patterns, the books, the samples that need to be knitted...my brain hurts!

It's all very fun, very exciting. A new venture!

I'm going to the dump...is there anything you want?

Today was swamp-out-the-garbage day. I had the ton of shredded paper Kellie manufactured from the To Be Shredded Bucket (3 years worth), the five-foot stack of catalogs, magazines, and junk mail that proliferated over the holidays, 3 weeks of kitchen and office and bathroom garbage cans, two giant boxes of flattened cardboard, dirty furnace filters, broken plant pots, 3 dog food bags full of plastic milk jugs for recycling, a broken car window mechanism and a strange collection of foam scraps. I literally had to lean on the rear hatch to stuff it all into the car. It felt like sitting on a bulging suitcase to close it.

When I arrived at the dump and popped the hatch, my detritus spilled out onto the ground, a great lumbering garbage-monster emerging from its den. Our dump has separate dumpsters for paper, plastic, cardboard, metals, construction materials, appliances and just plain old pedestrian trash. So, I traveled the rounds, depositing my various bags and boxes of discards.

But then, what's this? Nice 12-inch ceramic tiles sitting in the construction dumpster? Can I have these? I snagged up about 30 square feet of ceramic tile, it should be good for something around here. Maybe I'll make a mosaic table, or replace the carpet in the entryway with tile, or who knows.

This is why my house is a mess. Even when I go to get rid of stuff, I still come home with more.

Success!

I had a great shopping experience yesterday--just what we needed for just what I was willing to pay! And it all fit in the car! (With some rope to hold the hatch closed, that is). Lunch with Melanie was fun, and the dogs didn't complain too loudly when I finally got home. Life is good.

I woke up this morning thinking it was Friday (it's not), and wondering if I could get to Kingsport to buy dog food and get an acupuncture appointment before the meeting. Once I had my coffee, I realized I am at the library today. This time dislocation is only going to get worse, I fear.

My plan is to cut my library time down to one day per week when March begins. Bill will be coming home, the shop will be in chaos getting ready to open, and once we do open, I will want to spend most of my week there. With three partners and a six-day week, we can split up the time so that none of us has to be there every day. At first though, we will probably want to.

The sun is shining, the bassett is baying--I've got to get moving on my day.

Scavenger Day

I'm off to Mo-Town (Morristown) today, hunting for a kitchen sink base cabinet, pegboard display hooks, any furniture that looks like it would fit aesthetically into the knitting lounge area of the shop, and to have lunch with my friend Melanie.

The doggies will not be happy with me being gone for most of the day (again!), but that's the way it goes--it's a dog's life, right? At least they are getting along with each other better. Ozzie licks Harry's face (leading me to ask, "what has Harry gotten into now?"), Harry runs around Ozzie acting goofy and playful. It's now a house with two dogs, for better or worse.

Tomorrow, Spring is supposed to arrive. No, really! The temp is predicted to be in the mid-to-high 60s. I'm ready. I am SO ready.

Other than that, it's just day-to-day stuff. Working, sleeping, knitting, planning, and keeping the dogs at bay. Waiting for Bill. Sorting through my millions of Post-it notes.

Brrrrrrrr...........

I'm actually COLD. I have spent most of the winter in T-shirts and capris, but it's downright chilly here now. Yesterday, I was snowed in and couldn't get down my driveway to go to work at the library. Luckily, Peggy substituted for me, and today it looks like the sun may get warm enough to melt the ice off the mountain.

My head is spinning from all the details required to get the business going. We've got about six weeks until the opening, and are starting to feel the money pinch as we make up tentative orders of everything we want to carry in the shop. Too many choices! Not enough money!

This weekend, we'll be blanketing the town with our flyers. Next week, we're going to start on painting the bathroom and the following week is our big Kick-off membership meeting. Then the painter and electrician will be coming in to do the big work the last week of February. Then we'll be painting all the display boards, moving the cases, arranging the space, learning the cash register software...well, the details never end. Thankfully, I'm not having any trouble sleeping, though my partners say they are spending their nights tossing and turning.

In the middle of all of this, my hard-working husband is hopefully due off the ship the first week of March. I have really missed him this time, though we talk every morning now, since he's in the shipyard in Singapore). It will be nice to have someone warm to hug when he comes home.

Murphy's Law

I go to the dentist regularly now. Back in my twenties, I thought I had no money to spend on dentists. I am paying for that decision now, thirty years later.

My dentist has mapped my entire mouth and come up with a plan. My insurance will only pay 50% of two crowns per year. So each year, we pick my two "worst" teeth and work on them. This year, I chose #14 and #15, mostly because they were right next to each other and we could get two done with one dose of local anesthetic. I have temps on them now, and the crowns should be back from the elf who is sculpting them sometime next week.

So of course this weekend I broke #31. There isn't a feeling in the world quite like chomping down on your sandwich, then feeling and hearing a giant CRUNCH that sends the brain two simultaneous messages: "WTF?" and "THAT'S MY TOOTH!"

So now I need a repair, and I've used up my insurance for the year.

Sigh.

Sunny's Blog

No sooner do I get back into the swing of blogging here again, I have been assigned to write Sunny's Blog on www.sunnysideyarns.com too!

I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to manage TWO blogs, after my experience with Blogger's Block in December and January, but I'm giving it a go for now.

We are very busy with the store--everything from repairing furniture to planning budgets, agonizing over what to order, writing procedure manuals, trying to think of every little contingency and realizing the futility of that process.

I fall into bed with relief and exhaustion, my head filled with lists and to-do's.

Harry's Home

I let the dogs out for their morning duties yesterday, and Harry never came back. I finally gave up looking for him about midnight. This morning I was trying to get used to the idea that he wouldn't be part of the house anymore, while telling myself that I wasn't really that invested.

About 9 am, there was a scratching at the door, and a sad little floppy-eared dog slunk in. He was cold and hungry, and as soon as I fed him, he climbed wearily up on the futon and went to sleep.

I was surprised that for the 24 hours he was gone, Ozzie seemed quite bereft. He wandered around the house whining and whistling, and wanted to go out more than usual. Now that the bassett is home, Ozzie is content to go back to ignoring him as much as possible.

Dogs. They get into your heart, even when you don't want them to.

Hankering for Spring

While the rest of the country is hunkering down for the Storm of the Century, I've been dreaming about asparagus. While I'm not quite ready to say that our snows are over here in TN, I'm getting ready just in case Spring is around the corner.

Yesterday, I seeded artichokes, asparagus, tomatoes, peppers, and broccoli in the AeroGrow. Starting seeds is my annual personal act of faith -- the cold will end, the darkness will abate, spring will come, and life will go on. Some years, the garden is abundant; in others, the sun doesn't shine and the tomatoes rot on the vine.

But the surety that water, soil, light and seed will result in a green sprout reaching for the sky is my idea of a miracle.

Procrastination

There comes a time in every bloggers life (so I'm told), that a week's hiatus, turns into a month of no-blogging, and then turns into several months of slothful guilt. Then the blog dies. Yes, the silence has been deafening. I have excuses, but they are irrelevant. I got busy, but I'm always busy. I'm over my guilt and am pressing forward as if nothing happened.

So, thanks to the messages from around the world, prodding me into re-starting, and even a call from my husband in Singapore wondering if I was ill or worse because there was no blog to read, I have regained my composure and am ready to tackle the keyboard.

First, there is a new family member. He's on super-secret probation, but it looks as though this stray, found on a rainy night in our dark driveway, may be a keeper. Meet Harry:

Harry appears to be a bassett-beagle mix, about a year old, and just as mellow as can be. Ozzie, who is alternately annoyed and tolerant of Harry's presence, is coming around (though there was a big TO-DO this morning over a stuffed lamb toy's ownership).

Ozzie has turned into quite a good dog after our cross-country adventure and exposure to sister-in-law "Kellie-May." Kellie has a way with animals, so we tease her about being a character in The Beverly Hillbillies. Ozzie is off probation and now that I have his food and flatulence issues resolved, he's my pal.

In other news, a trio of women and I are moving ahead with our plans to open a "Yarn Community," starting April 1 (no fooling!). We'll have a yarn shop, consignment sales of locally handmade goods, a lounge for sitting & knitting, instructional classes, charitable causes to knit and crochet for, plus all the fun, risk and agony of being small business owners. We are hard at work to make it all happen by the deadline.

Check out our website at www.sunnysideyarns.com ! We are so excited. Can you tell?

Today, Heleen and I went on a cross-country secondhand furniture tour and came home with 3 chairs, 3 end tables, 2 lamps, a display rack, a nice ironing board and a side table for the bathroom.

Next week we'll be meeting with vendors, constructing displays, contracting for painting and getting ready for our big membership drive on Feb. 21. The days are busy, the nights full of dreams of things we forgot to do or plan for. Luckily, all four of us have different strengths and weaknesses, and are meshing as a partnership quite well.

Bill is in Singapore again, working on the ship in the Sembawang Shipyard, and sleeping in town at the Copthorne Kings Hotel again. He sounds tired, but only has about 5 weeks to go before he can come home and catch up on his rest.

And for now, I'm blogging again. I'll try to regain the momentum and make it a happy habit.