Possible "American Bungalow" magazine submission?

My obsession with home research started shortly after the renovation of our 1920 home. On a beautiful spring afternoon, we were enjoying “beverages” on the front porch when a car pulled up to the curb. The people in the car were smiling and pointing up at the second story porch. We went down to the car to say hello. A sweet older couple beamed as they explained that they had lived in our house in 1950. Their adult son, who was also in the car, was born while they lived in the house. We invited them in and were thrilled to share in their memories of living in our home. Our favorite of their many stories was how they would roll the Victrola out on to the upper porch and play the music of “South Pacific”. Of course we went right out and bought the Soundtrack on CD. Sing it with me: “Bali Ha’i…” or perhaps the better known “I’m gonna’ wash that man right out of my hair…”

Meeting these people brought us closer to our home and neighborhood we love so much. We began to wonder who else had lived in our house. So we headed down to the library to review the City Directories. Sure, I probably could have located this information on the Internet, but that’s no fun. I wanted to research my home the old fashioned way – in the annals and archives of our county and city records buildings. I wanted to turn the yellowed pages, touch the delicate documents and see the flowing handwriting of the record-keepers of the past. In fact, I was having so much fun locally that on a recent pleasure trip to our nation’s Capitol, we stopped in at the National Archives to fuel my new addiction.

Through the city directories at the local library, we were able to trace the residents of our home back to 1938. But then we came to a stumbling block of disappointment. Why did the listings for our house end at 1938 but all of our neighbor’s homes were there clear back to the 1920’s? Was our house really built in the 1920’s? Was it built after our neighbors’ homes? Did we really own a 1920’s home?

We then decided to go to our City Hall to review the tax records. A city employee led us back to a small, cramped records room where he began delicately removing the hand-written tax record ledgers of the 1920’s. He too was unable to locate our address but he had an idea. He asked if we had our lot number, which we did. Mystery solved. Prior to 1938, our house had a different street number!

Armed with our plat number, we headed back to the library city directories. Sure enough, the city directory got us back to the 1920’s. Eventually, we also went to the city real estate archives room and then the census records of the National Archives.

The experience of this hands-on research has forever connected us with our home and our neighborhood. We now know more than we ever expected about both. The owner of a plumbing and heating company lived here first. His wife was the owner of a “Tea Room” for a short time in the early 1930’s. We know they lived here until the early 1940’s when they moved closer to their plumbing and heating company in the city of Atlanta. On a recent drive in downtown Atlanta, we tried to locate the building where their business once operated, but found Centennial Olympic Park in its place.

Our next goal is selfish. We want to see if we can locate any of the people who lived in our home to see if they have photos or other stories they would be willing to share. Wish us luck!

Kitty Saga...

"Rumi"

Great picture of Rumi isn’t it! I wish I could post a picture of Rumi and Maddie together but it ain’t happening any time soon. The introduction of a 15 pound, playful young cat to a 6 pound, “set-in-her-ways”, “enjoyed being an only cat for the first time in her 17 years of life” cat, has had its ups and downs (refer to “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” to determine if my punctuation was even close on that one! http://eatsshootsandleaves.com/esl.html).

We have been following various suggestions for pet introductions, all of which end with a statement that goes something like this: “you may have to face the news that some cats will never get along”. We’ll keep trying but have had to be honest with ourselves and fair to both kitties – we may have to find Rumi another home. In the meantime, if anyone has any great ideas – we are open to any and all creative suggestions.

The Red Cardinal Cup

Thanks to everyone who helped me celebrate my 41st birthday! I enjoyed all of the cards, phone calls and much more! Just wanted to share a story about one of the gifts I received.

I make the coffee in our family, so I was pleasantly surprised to wake up birthday morning (similar to the term “Christmas morning”) to find a card propped up on top of the coffee maker by a retro, Fire King, red cardinal cup. I laughed out loud as I hadn’t thought about a red cardinal cup in months and prior to that, I hadn’t thought about a red cardinal cup in years. Here’s the story.

A few months back, we were thinking of replacing our deck with either a new one or a screened-in porch. We hadn’t settled on the decision so we thought we would start by at least getting some estimates to see how much money we would need to save up. I happened to be at Sam’s Club one day when they were promoting free estimates for decks so I made an appointment for the following Saturday morning. Promptly at 9:30 a.m., a shiny green truck pulls up in our driveway. As the truck door opened, I’m pretty sure the cigarette smoke billowed out along with the driver. A schmoozey older man greeted us with handshakes and a yellow-toothed smile. We walked him to the backyard where we described, in general, what we wanted and explained that we were only looking for estimates. He spent about 5 minutes doing measurements and then asked if we could go inside to talk. We said sure, thinking he just wanted to draft up the estimate on a table or something. Little did we know that we would basically be sitting through what we later termed the “time share deck hard sell”. I am not kidding. This guy not only wanted us to “sign on the dotted line today” or “he could not guarantee the price” but he also asked for a cup of coffee. I reluctantly pulled a mug off of the shelf and filled it with joe and the 4 spoons of sugar he wanted. We finally got this “deck pusher” out of our house and laughed about it for days.

I later told Doc. B. that I had not been using the coffee mug that he used. I told her about how it reminded me of the red cardinal cup from when I was in my 20’s. I used to go up to Northern Michigan and stay at a friend’s parents’ weekend house so we could all go boating. At night we would have bon fires and hang out with the neighbors. Then the next morning we would all have coffee and breakfast together. The coffee mugs all had pictures of birds on them. You know, the blue bird mug, the orange oriole mug, the yellow finch mug, etc… For some reason, no one would drink out of the red cardinal cup. I later found out that one of the neighbors had some kind of gum disease, pyorrhea, and that they always gave that cup to him! I have no idea if he ever realized that he was always given that mug. In any case, I now have my own red cardinal cup and I’ve had coffee from it three mornings in a row. Thanks Doc. B.!

Synchronicity? Here are just a few...

Deepak Chopra - AP photo

I’ve been trying to remember to write down examples of synchronicity. They tend to be like dreams – if you don’t write them down, you forget them. Also, by writing them down, you begin to see how many there really are in your life. You can then look for the meaning in them or simply acknowledge them. Some you’ll probably say “oh, that’s just a coincidence” but others may make you think twice. Or in the case of my first example, it may just be two people who have lived together so long that they begin to think alike (and look alike I might add).

After my dad read my first two blog postings, he e-mailed me about something that had just happened to him. He and my mom are remodeling their home, inside and out. Dad had borrowed a friend’s tractor so he could churn up their entire yard and put down new grass seed. Their hope is a brand new lawn come spring. My mom has always been the lawnmower in the family (I take after her by the way – Doc. B. has never mowed our lawn). I think my mom enjoys being outside and so mowing the lawn is something she finds appealing. Well, right before my dad started up the tractor, he thought to himself: “I wonder if Lucy wants to mow the lawn one last time?” Just as Dad was thinking it, mom said out loud: “maybe I should mow the lawn one last time?” So what do you think – synchronicity or living together for 40+ years?

My aunt and uncle were visiting recently from California. In catching up with my uncle, I learned that he has been playing paddle tennis at Venice Beach several times per week. I had never heard of paddle tennis so he explained it. A few weeks later, I was at the beauty salon catching up on my celebrity trash reading. As I turned the hair-dyed pages of "People" magazine, I came across a photo of Keanu Reeves playing paddle tennis at Venice Beach. The caption read: “Venice Beach, Calif., Aug. 19 – Keanu Reeves hopes for a hit while playing paddle tennis with a friend.” Hmm...maybe I'm supposed to learn how to play this game?
(http://keanuweb.com/en/multimedia/comments_kr6f275c.html)

During that same visit, my aunt, who is an avid reader, gave me a list of books she had read and liked. I’ve already taken her advice on one of them entitled “Good in Bed” by Jennifer Weiner. I laughed out loud and would love to loan the book to anyone who wants to borrow it. Before my aunt recommended this author, I had never heard of her. Now I see that another one of her books, “In Her Shoes”, has been made into a movie with Cameron Diaz http://www.jenniferweiner.com/). Another book that was on my aunt’s list was called “The Kite Runner” (http://www.khaledhosseini.com/). I have not yet read this book, however I was at a Cheryl Wheeler concert last week and she also mentioned how good the book was (http://www.cherylwheeler.com/noframe/bio.html). Of course I will now be going out to get this book.

Remembering Murphy...and turning 41...

Murphy and me.

This Saturday, 9/24/05, is the day I close out the first year of being in my 40’s. Yup, I’ll turn 41. I’m honestly enjoying being 40. However in hindsight, there were a lot of changes that took place over these past 12 months. And you know what they say about change – it causes stress. Needless to say, I’ve got a massage scheduled for my birthday, not to mention a home-cooked meal prepared by my third favorite chef, Faruk. I don’t think he’ll mind being third behind my mom and Doc. B.

9/24/05 also marks four months since our beloved cat, Murphy, passed away. As sad as this was and as much as I miss him, I’m glad I got to enjoy him for 17 years. He had a humble beginning at an adult foster care home in Battle Creek, MI (a home for men with Down syndrome). He started off as a typical Persian cat – handsome and aloof. But he became a big ol' sweetheart in his old age. He took to Doc. B. over the last 8 years of his life and became “her” cat. He’s still in our hearts, in our minds, and in the pictures all over the house.

A couple of weeks ago, we felt ready enough to take in a foster cat named “Marcus”. Doc. B. was out running errands and just happened to be in Pet Smart (not sure why since we were loaded up on litter, food, cat nip, etc…). While there, she found a happy, but sick, Maine Coon kitty. He had a pretty bad upper respiratory infection and a cage was not the place for him to get well. After three cell phone calls from Doc. B., I finally agreed that she could bring him home to take care of him. This was only after I figured out that “Marcus” has the same number of letters as “Murphy”. Yeah, I know – I guess I was looking for a reason to say okay. We’ve nursed him back to health with antibiotics and are very slowly introducing him to Maddie, our other 17 year old kitty. So far, so good. At first we thought we’d at least be making a little bit more room for an animal that needed space after hurricane Katrina. Now, if Maddie accepts him, he’s a new member of the family. Oh, and we’ve changed his name to “Rumi” (see links to the right).

The other major change this year was my employment. After eight years in corporate America, I’m back in the public sector. Being a civil servant suits me; I think it’s in my blood. My mom’s father worked for the State of New York; my mom’s brother worked for the federal government; my dad’s brother, father and grandfather were all Township Clerks; my dad worked for many different municipalities during his career and still does into his retirement; and I’m sure the list goes on. I’ve never stayed in one job more than 3-4 years. I’m hoping that my current position with the Social Security Administration will be the ticket to breaking that record and that I’ll be able to retire a federal employee. I miss my co-workers at my old job, but I sure don’t miss the human resources headaches of being a supervisor. That’s a story for another day.

So, today, I’m just being thankful for all that transpired during my year of being 40; the good, the bad and the somewhere in between….

Why am I doing this?

Over the past few days since I've shared my blog with family and friends, the most common question I get is "what made you want to start a blog?". Well, here's the answer.

Pretty much since day one of my work life (I started at age 15 at McDonalds and have worked almost non-stop since), I have felt like a character on the show "The Office". For those of you that have not seen the show, my youngest sister tells me the BBC version is better than the American version. I find that hard to believe, since I can laugh out loud for an entire half hour of the American version. In any case, I always thought it would be great to write short stories or a novel about work and all of the crazy things that go on in an eight hour day. Then about 10 years ago, I started working in the disability arena. People who can't work anymore due to physical or psychological reasons file for income replacement and I review their applications for benefits. I have always found the things that people say in their applications, as well as the things doctors put in their reports, to be a great read. Each claim folder I pick up has the medical life story of a person within those documents. I always feel like I'm reading a new book each time I open up the next case file in the endless stack on my desk (job security).

Some of the things you read in a disability file are funny. Take for example the office note I read today that said "the patient has not seen a doctor in two years as he only had money for the necessities in life, alcohol and cigarettes". And some of the things you see in a file are very sweet. Like the woman who was explaining what things she could no longer do now that she's disabled (due to blindness). She listed "...drive, sew, knit, see my husband's face...".

In any case, I've always wondered if others might be interested in what I read during my work-day since I find it so mesmerizing. But I've been warned against that. I'm not supposed to write about my co-workers, or my jobs, until after I'm retired and won't risk a potential loss of the employment I so much love. In the meantime, if I'm going to write a book in the future, I'll need some practice and some honest feedback. So I'm opening myself up for both with this blog. Feel free to give it to me straight (or crooked), while I do the practicing part. I can take the feedback. In fact, someone at one of my jobs once said "feedback is the breakfast of champions" - blah, blah, blah...

My first known synchronicity

NOTE: Before you read this - you may want to click on the link to the right entitled "what is synchronicity" unless you already know what the heck it is.

Doc. B. has been reading Deepak Chopra books and listening to his books on tape for a number of years now. I have to admit that his combination of spirituality and science is often over my head. Good thing Doc. B. is a Chemist and can scale it down below layman's terms for me. Or to quote a phrase used by a job applicant during an interview I was conducting, Doc. B. often has to "dumb it down" for me. Correct, we did not hire that guy. Besides, he wouldn't sit up straight in his chair and as I recall, he wasn't wearing socks.

In any case, a couple of years back, Doc. B. and I were taking our first trip to the Grove Park Inn, in Asheville, NC. We were all excited because it was Arts and Crafts weekend and there was a crisp chill in the air - I think we even saw a speck of snow while we were there. During the 3+ hour drive, I was somehow talked into listening to one of Deepak's tapes about synchronicity and synchrodestiny. After most of it was re-explained to me, I was all into it and was ready to start being conscious of the otherwise brushed off coincidences of my life. We spent the rest of the car drive trying to recall events of the past that might actually have been synchronicitous. Like the time we were at the restaurant at Chico Hot Springs in Prey, MT with my mom, dad and youngest sister. My mom asked the server if we might get to see Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid since they owned a ranch nearby (pre break up of course). The server said he didn't know. But sure enough, just as we were finishing our beef wellington, in walks the Ryan/Quaid crew. It was coincidence then; it's synchronicity now.

Anyway, back to Asheville. So we're walking around the gorgeous Grove Park Inn, taking in all of the breathtaking views, wandering through all of the mission style furniture that we just can't figure out how to afford and Doc. B. gets thirsty. Being the penny pinchers that we are sometimes (I get that trait from my dad), we didn't really want to go to the hotel restaurant and pay big bucks to quench her thirst, so we started to cruise the hotel looking for a drinking fountain. One of the many unique touches found at the Grove Park Inn is that the halls are lined with headshot photos of famous people. I can only guess that each of the well-known celebrities had stayed there at one time or another. So we're meandering the hallways for quite some time when Doc. B. finally spots a drinking fountain. She bends over to sip the water and when she stands up, guess which famous mug is staring back at her - Deepak Chopra's! It's as if he knew we had been listening to his tapes, knew Doc. B. was thirsty, and guided her to the water source!

That pretty much secured my understanding of and belief in the idea of synchronicity. I still enjoy noticing when these kinds of things happen. I haven't much gone beyond the noticing to trying to understand what they mean - but I will. I'm just a bit slower on these spirituality topics. Sometimes the blue mailbox momements are more my speed.

The Story Behind the Blue Mailbox

My partner, Doc. B, and I have been together for quite some time. Almost eight years if I’m to be more precise. And “precise” is precisely the word behind the blue mailbox – or rather a lack of preciseness. Is that even a word? My spellchecker did not catch it, so I’m going to trust and go with it.

For as long as we’ve been together, we still experience those moments where we just don’t connect in our conversational exchanges. These are the moments we have affectionately dubbed “blue mailbox” moments. Here’s why.

We were preparing to sell our home and had been doing the little extra, inexpensive touch-ups that you do before you put the sign in your front yard. Thanks to HGTV, we now have a label for this - “curb appeal”. In any case, one of my jobs was to replace the old, boring, standard, black metal mailbox with a new, snazzy, cedar-covered one. I had spent a great deal of time picking it out, pulling out the old one and installing the new one - complete with Quickcrete® and a level. I was quite proud of myself of course.

Later that weekend we were going out to run errands and as we got in the car, Doc. B. says to me “we need a blue mailbox”. I looked at her incredulously and said “what? I just put up a brand new cedar mailbox and now you want a blue one?” She returned my look of incredulity with one of annoyance – what she wanted was to stop at the post office so she could drop off some letters directly into the postal “blue” mailbox.

The house has long been sold and we continue to have these blue mailbox moments. I expect, and look forward to, many more of them in the years to come.