And Then, There's Henry...

Every day I collect strange and interesting data to write about in my blog. Mostly it comes in the form of making mental notes when other times I actually mention it to Justin that I ought to write about it. Henry is one of those topics that simply had to be written about. Henry. What can I say about the ol' fella? Henry means well but he's just not good at getting the job done. I'd say he sucks but that is certainly not the case.

For those of you who know me, you are quite aware of how I love to putter around the house, cleaning and tidying things up. Upon moving into a new house I delve into the task of making the house a home by cleaning, organizing, cooking - doing all of those things that make the home smell like you and the foods you like, placing things in reasonable places, putting those final touches on a room so that it eminates your personality. It is job enough to do this with your own things. However, when you move into someone else's house, with thousands of trinkets and knick knacks, odd pieces of furniture in bizarre locations, strange household items, etc., the job becomes seemingly insurmountable and can drive you to absolute tears. At least it did me. I hadn't really thought of everything for the first week I was here. Discovering what was in the cupboards, what things would be of use to me, what cleaning products I could find to use, those were the things I was focusing on. So, my first attempt at doing a deep cleaning of the house wasn't until after my first week here. Needless to say, with a 7 year old and a dog, the first thing I needed to do was vacuum. Now, allow me to digress just a bit to give you a picture of what the place is like. When you enter the house from the front, you walk into the dining room and in all honesty are absolutely captivated. The room is stunning with beautifully designed stained glass windows, an enormous table that can seat up to 12, and luxurious carpet. The carpet takes you through to a tiny living room-like room, through to the water closet, up the stairs and onto the landing. Alternately, you can walk straight through the snug into a small but modern kitchen, into an extension of the kitchen (difficult to explain purpose) and finally through to the sun room. There are two bedrooms on the second floor, a study and full bath. The third floor is a single attic bedroom (otherwise known as "Chay's room"). The thick, luxurious carpet is found throughout the downstairs with the exception of the kitchen and sun room, into the water closet and up through the stairs and landing area. The study upstairs is also carpeted. Although we are careful to remove our shoes upon entering the house, we somehow manage to drag crumbs, hair, dirt and strange bits throughout. So vacuuming - or hoovering, sweeping or cycloning, depending on your preference - is where I was. And indeed, what I needed to be doing to care for the carpet, keep the house clean and free from dust. Of course, with a house full of high quality, very expensive wall-to-wall carpeting one would gather that there would be a decent vacuum cleaner made available to keep it all in tip top shape. (Especially considering the house was full of all of the knick knacks, trinkets, furniture an dishes.) That, I determined, was nothing short of a silly assumption.

Upon investigating the two very small under-the-stair closets I found him. He was short, squat, red and was wearing one of the cheakiest grins I'd ever seen. And his name was Henry. A little worse for wear, the little fella still promised to cheerfully delve into his job. How wrong was I?! Henry turned out to be the bain of my existance! Short, squat and red I can handle. The worst part was that he didn't suck at his job! I found myself running the carpet attachment over and over the carpet trying to pick up a dog hair (or hell, even one of my hairs!) was back breaking work. No, Henry would simply not do. So, after a day of hunching over Henry scraping the carpet with every conceivable attachment trying desperately to clean the carpet, Justin decided I was right and we were off to the ATM to reduce even further my ever-shrinking bank account. Of course we found a suitable replacement within an hour. And I'm loving every second of it!

Sorry Henry, LG's in town now and determined to put you out of business! ;)

Priceless

Well, we're here. Chaga and me that is. We're here, with the love of my life, in our new home built sometime in the late 1480s (makes you realize how relative "new" is), filtering our thoughts between all of the valuable (and not so valuable) artifacts on the walls, tables, corners, ceilings. We are leasing the house but somehow when I walk through it I get the sensation of house sitting for two exotic artists or collectors of museum-quality artifacts whom I have never met but of whom I somehow have already formed opinions. It is as if they invited me to stay for a while and promptly popped out for a bit, never to be heard of again. But, they made certain to leave instructions on how to live in their house. It's difficult to explain all of the new experiences, mix of emotions and strange thoughts I've gone through in less than a week. Leaving my family and friends was more difficult than I even thought it would be. Walking through the security gates at Cleveland International Airport with my ridiculously heavy carry on bags loaded down with computer equipment, books and important papers, clothes, jewelry... all those things you don't want to put in a checked bag for fear that it will be lost forever and end up being sold for a fraction of the price at that big warehouse of unclaimed luggage somewhere in Kentucky. All of this on top of the three 50+ Lb. checked bags and Chaga. But shit man, it's not as if I was just on holiday. I packed my life into a 5'x5' storage unit and these suitcases. And I paid dearly for it all too. Chaga's ticket was over $1400 (compared to mine at the low one-way bargain price of a mere $900). My extra suitcase cost an extra $200. Great, now I sound like that MasterCard commercial: *Two tickets to London: $2300 *Extra suitcase: $200 *Bottle of Water: $2 *Seeing your husband and dog on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean: Priceless Yes, it is true. It is priceless being able to wake up next to Justin every morning, making coffee, tea and meals with him or drinking a bottle of wine and laughing until we're exhausted. It is priceless knowing that I have Chaga next to me on the floor every night and seeing her happy little face peering through the window excited at the sight of the orange cat slinking around our tiny back yard or watching her practically skip along the footpath, through the cow pastures, over the streams, tuckering herself out. And priceless knowing of my greatest fortune: Time with them both.

True Love

He never ceases to amaze me with his patience. His humor makes my eyes squint. His intelligence makes my ears twitch. The love he shows me is true, deep, rich and alive, making my knees soft. I look around me wherever I am and something reminds me of him. The color blue. A crystal vase. A map. Paperclips, staples and tape. The color blue. A ribbon. A book on hiking trails. Notebook paper, flowers and a tin of maple syrup. The color blue. I close my eyes and designs of him float across and tickle my eyelids. His breath motions across my eyelashes to make my memories dart from beginning to middle to end. This love Is endless.

Where do you go once you've started?

Uuuugh! Now that I started a blog, there's the pressure to keep writing!!! I love to write. I don't profess to be an exceptional writer. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'm necessarily that talented of a writer at all. I insert commas where they don't belong or are not necessary or I don't use them where they are useful. In all honesty, I don't even remember all of the parts of speech and could not even define those that I do recognize. If my father ever sat in front of a computer to read this (which would mean that either Hell has frozen over or was hit with a pretty deep frost) he would laugh hysterically upon learning this and would then proceed to think "where did I go wrong?". He worked as an English and journalism adjunct professor for, oh I don't know, about 20 years at a very small liberal arts college in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. (I'd say Lyndonville, Vt. but that certainly is not as poetic as Northeast Kingdom. We Kingdomers are more than a little proud to claim this status, too. If you stick with me, you'll undoubetdly read more about it in future posts.) OK, ok, I know. I'm not making myself clear. I love to write, therefore I started this blog. However, as I questioned earlier, once you start a blog, where do to take it? Oh, right. It doesn't matter. It's for me. As a matter of fact, this very post doesn't have to be for anyone but me. It can, and is, an avenue I've taken to sort out my thoughts, memories and visions. What a relief!

It All Starts Somewhere

It can happen to anyone really. Believe me. But don't ask me anything like how or when or even why. Don't ask me how to get there. Don't assume I know how to give directions. And don't try to take a ride on mine as you're liable to get hurt. You can however, ask me about mine in an effort to understand how to weave your own. Here, let's start in 1990. I mean, it's a ways back in time, but you have to admit, it was a very good year... Ahhh, 1990. The year started on a Monday. January 27 marked the beginning of the Year of the Monkey. It has also been noted as the final year of the Cold War. Which as we all know, meant that McDonald's could finally move in. Which it did... on January 31. Of course it got better, sort of, when in February of that year there was one of the most devastating man made environmental disasters - the Exxon Valdez oil spill off the coast of Alaska in Prince William Sound. Not long after East Germany held its first free elections in March, London experienced it's second "Battle of Trafalgar", an anti-poll tax demonstration in which nearly 500 civilians were injured and over 340 were arrested. By the end of April Americans were already used to the idea that the Hubble Space Telescope, Discovery had been placed into orbit. And finaly, FINALLY, in May the World Health Organization removed homosexuality from its list of diseases. Yeah, do a double take on that one. I'll repeat myself just to be sure we both really get this. In May of 1990 the World Health Organization REMOVED HOMOSEXUALITY from its list of DISEASES. (It did not remove it from its list of "mental disorders" until 1993.) But, I digress. All of this is leading up to something important in my life. In June of 1990 I graduated from Castleton State College in Castleton, Vermont. Of course, as many of you know, the last few months of your undergraduate career are filled with delight and dread that you'll no longer be tied to the books and classrooms and responsibilities of school. The mere thought of breaking out into the world of adulthood is a joyous occasion. I mean let's not forget all of those lurking credit card companies just waiting to take you under their plastic arms. Making plans for the future, developing resumes, talks about marriage proposals, trips overseas, and all there is to look forward to after graduation absorb the conversations of everyone. And another thing happens. We're all of a sudden aware that there is a world outside of our own tiny existence. I didn't necessarily remember all of those events on my own. When I did a Google search on the year it all came rushing back to me. I do remember those events. I do remember feeling something when learning about them. I also remember many, many other events that happened later in that year - without Google's assistance. I remember there was a major tornado outbreak in the Lower Ohio Valley - where I had been planning on moving! I remember the Gulf War broke out in August... the First Gulf War. I remember Atlanta, Georgia was chosen to host the 1996 Summer Olympics. I turned 22. Margaret Thatcher resigned as Prime Minister of the UK. And, I remember that it was toward the end of this year when British workers met face to face with French workers and the "Chunnel" was actually born. Amazing, isn't it? They dug an under water tunnel to link England with France! So, that's where it all began. The beginning of my lifelong adventure. I'm still on this ride. I'm not about to get off.