This Old House...

Much of my crazy this summer has been rooted in the search for my first house. After looking at dozens of homes with my fabulous realtor Meredith Lane, I ended up buying the second house I looked at, on our first day of hunting (sorry Meredith for dragging you all over town!).  And here it is!

(And no, this isn't Alice in Wonderland with huge keys to a tiny door!)

I have moved three times in the past three years, so I'm really looking forward to staying in one place for a looooong time.  And I LOVE my house!

My friends and family were so sweet to celebrate with me immediately. Allyson and Sheri came by with a bottle of champagne...

And my parents drove up Saturday to check out my new digs (and thanks dad for finding my interior water valve before KY American Water shows up Monday!).

Things I have learned in my first few days of ownership:

1) Moving sucks.  Wait, already knew that one.
2) Big trees = big sticks in the yard. I spent 30 minutes getting huge branches out of my front yard this morning after last night's storm!  I'm saving the back yard clean up for Sean.
3) Painting is the greatest workout ever.  I'm more exhausted and sore than I have been in months.  Ok, maybe it's not such a great workout and I'm just out of shape!
4) Gray paint looks like peachy vomit when its wet and next to baby blue.  A few minutes of panic...

In my biased opinion, I think my house is adorable, but there were a few things that had to go IMMEDIATELY.  Number one on the list:  blue paint that looks great in the kitchen but not so great in the foyer... living room... hallway... and bedroom.  Too much blue!  So my first two days in the new house were consumed with making all that blue disappear:




Living Room Before



Scary, vomit-colored wet paint....



And after! (no longer looking like puke)

North Carolina-blue in the foyer...



Warn gray after!



Blue, blue, blue and more blue in the hallway



Much better!

 Next up on the list: the all-white bathroom upstairs.  White tile will stay (this is NOT a major home renovation!) but it's getting a pretty shade of light green paint to warm things up a bit.

Side note: super apologies to my wonderful friend and bride-to-be, Marilee Meyers.  I poured out a gallon of paint and then realized there was no way I could finish using it in time for her bridal shower today.  But in ever-so-gracious style, she was completely understanding.  I hope she had a FANTASTIC day and can't wait to see her as a bride next month! XOXO Marilee!

I realize this is not the most meaningful or entertaining post, but it's SO exciting to me! There really is nothing like having a home and knowing that it is YOURS.  I can't wait to fill it with my furniture, things, friends and memories!

Now that the house is mine and moving is underway, maybe tomorrow I can actually get my syllabus for Comm. 215 at Georgetown finished.  And go to Human Resources to set up my employment details.  And clean the apartment. And take Cassie to the groomers.  And finish putting listings on the Travel Kentucky app.  And send out the Kentucky Monthly newsletter...

Suddenly I'm tired and overwhelmed again! 

Waiting

I will always remember the day that Amy Winehouse died, because it's the same day that we found out my grandfather would have to fight a battle with brain cancer that he can't win. 

And somehow, Saturday morning, Amy Winehouse's death was a comfort to me.  Why? Well, I knew in that moment that at least my papa would live through his surgery.  There was no way God was going to put such a wonderful man side by side with a skinny crack addict at the Pearly Gates.  Come on. Can you imagine how that conversation would go?  I see papa giving her the once over and asking "what are you in for? do you think we should knock?"

But yet the day did not go how any of us would have hoped.  Not at all.

My papa is the sweetest, most jolly, most gentle man I know.  His smile and his laugh fill a room, and just being around him puts you at peace and at ease.  He's just a happy guy.  And he should be a saint; anyone who can bear three generations of nothing but women and keep his sanity for 76 years deserves a special place in the Lord's House. 

He comes from a generation of men that are never going to be replaced in this world.  He comes from a community that is fading away. They are group of people from Ferguson who all know the same phrases--they're all "azzling around" everywhere they go.  He's from a childhood of running around farms, throwing corn cob husks so fiercely that they leave the dents of the kernels in the other boy's back (Hayden Waddle can personally attest to that!).  He's from a time when his dad could come home with a goat sitting in the front seat after a night of gambling (and we're still not sure if the goat was part of his winnings or losings)! 

I often forget that he, with his brother Max, built a business that has sustained our family for 60 years.  That he handed over to my father because he had no son of his own to pass it to--and my dad has always been like a son to him.  I forget that he was a handsome man in his day (and still is), even though I have the picture of him working in the lab as a young man, white t-shirt rolled up, hair slicked back looking young and vibrant  and mischievious and a little like Ryan Gosling in The Notebook. 

There's so much we don't know.  That maybe we will never know.  About who he was as a brother, a husband, a man, before the kids, before the grandkids and the great grandkids.   We have all kinds of stories--because he tells them well and laughs at himself the whole time like he's sharing it for the first time!  But how well do we every really know the people we love?

To me, he's just papa.  And he always has been.  He's been a constant in my life, always there, no matter how much I have cared to spend time with him... or not. And of course now we all wish we had more time.  In a family of two daughters, four granddaughters, and two great-granddaughters, some how we all feel like we are "papa's girls."  We all have a different relationship with him--that's obvious.  And yet each of us have our own special "thing" with him... our own unique and secret bond that makes each of us feel like he loves us the most.  Which of course isn't true because he loves us all in his own way and has somehow loved each of us year after year, never fading in the love he has to give.

Over the past few days, I have been humbled and honored to see that he didn't just love us; there are so many people in our lives that he has shared friendship, fellowship, and kinship with.  And those people, in return, have poured that love back to him and us in return.  Family, friends, member of his church--all have come to stand beside his family in a time of need.  Even if there's nothing that they can do to help, they are offering up their solidarity, compassion, and love. 

And it is humbling to see that those people love the same things about this man that his family does; his laugh, his smile, his warm hello, and his love for the daily pleasures in life; a good cup of coffee, a morning drive to "azzle" around and visit friends and family, and a Sunday morning with the men in Sunday school.

It is not fair.  There is not a man who deserves the things that lay ahead less than my papa does.  There is not a man who deserves less to be threatened with the loss of his speech, his memory, his laugh, his dignity.  And yet I cannot think of a man more capable of meeting the path that God has chosen for him with more grace, more composure, more peace.  Dad said that papa has always said "when it's your time, it's your time."  None of us are ready for this to be his time.  And we don't know how much he has.  It may be a few months; with his attitude and some radiation, maybe a little more... maybe a little less.

It is a fight that he has to fight knowing that he cannot win.  And we have to watch it knowing just how much we are most assured to lose.  But he has been responsible for giving this family a wonderful life. And I know that we will find the strength to stand by, spend time, and wait out this final journey for as long as it takes.  I only hope we can keep smiling his smile, laughing his laugh, and finding comfort in his peace.

This Ain't No HGTV!

Does anyone remember the really, REALLY old House Hunters shows where they actually told you how mnay houses the people had looked at along the way?  When they pulled up into the driveway and the CG at the bottom of the screen would say "House 2" or "House 8" or "House 5,421"? 

Yeah, those need to come back.  Becuase the three houses and oh one is perfect! crap that is on today is misleading.

I have been casually house hunting for much of the year, but the pressure of a lease ending a need to put in my notice to vacate has made things official.  So, with the guidance of my fabulous realtor Meredith Lane (check out her blog Home and Nom!), we set off through the streets of Lexington to find my perfect house.

Now, I will admit, I'm not an easy customer.  I gave her many specifics, including a fireplace, fenced backyard, and an extra "den" space or basement. 

Little did I know how hard it was going to be!  We have seen: great houses in crappy neighborhoods, crappy houses in great neighborhoods, crappy houses in crapp neighborhoods, and so so houses in ok neighborhoods.  We have seen beautiful fireplaces, great backyards, nasty tubs, cheap laminate.  And there have been some funny moments too! 

I have quickly learned that the old addage of location location location really is true.  Lexington real estate is hard to target, especially in newer areas of town.  It is scary to buy in a new area because you have no idea if that subdivision is going to be run down in a few years.  I look at so many communities that were "new" when I was in college... and now they look gross!  I can't get stuck in one of those places!

So, we have struck on a house in an older, established neighborhood.  And it's an older house.  It will need some updates in a few years, but for now a little paint and fixtures will go a long way.  Most of the major things have been updated.  I went through it again today with Sean and it passed his inspection...

So... I might make an offer! Stay tuned!

Who's Going to Show Them?

"asdfjkl; return"

There are generations of Somerset High School graduates who know exactly who said that and why.  And I know to credit that phrase for much of my career success to the teacher who said it over, and over, and over.

Mrs. Vanhook taught keyboarding, and every freshman at Somerset High School was required to take it.  Because of that one class, I was able to finish tests and papers on deadline in college, write scripts for newscasts seconds before they needed to hit the air, and type press releases as fast as my brain could come up with the words. 

My co-workers laugh at how fast--and aggressively, they say--I type.  But just as thankful as I am that I can write and communicate clearly, I know that my ability to type efficiently has been a key factor in getting ahead.

And guess what? They don't teach that class at Somerset anymore.

Do they teach it anywhere?

Do kids even use real, fully-spelled out words anymore?

Who's going to teach them? Who's going to even tell them they need to know how? And will they listen?

Someone commented to me recently that school today is not so much about a child's ability to retain, absorb, and recall information; rather, it's an exercise in researching and finding sources successfully.  Between Google, academic search engines and practically everything available via cell phone, how can you make the case that memorizing facts, history, math and knowledge is even necessary anymore?

Who's going to teach them? Do they need to be taught?

I went to get my oil changed last Sunday, and Sean said to me "have them run your transmission fluids while you are there."  I asked why.  "Because," he said matter-of-factly, "you have 60,000 miles on your car."

How did he know that?  I knew how many miles were on my car, but had it been left to me I never would have known anything NEEDED to be done to my transmission.  No one ever told me.

People used to work harder to learn--by experience, by trial and error.  My mom spent years trying to make my mamaw's mashed potatoes until one day she noticed the secret: put the potatoes back on the stove after you drain the water to cook off the little bit of water that remains.  She watched, she learned, she was shown how.

My dad has built his entire career from the bottom up at his lab, learning along the way, getting certifications, and managing his business well.

Some days I barely feel like I know how to keep my house clean! And at least I recognize that there are so many things you just can't learn without experience--or at least someone showing you the way, and why it is important to know.

So... years from now... who's going to show them? Is there going to be anything left to show? Will anyone even bother making homemade mashed potatoes anymore?  And does it matter?

Lessons

This past Tuesday I was sitting at a Starbucks in Bowling Green, post- local morning show and pre-9 a.m.-meeting.  Hunched over my computer as always, sipping an iced vanilla latte (venti--I'm addicted and it's bad). 

I barely noticed anyone around me. Then, quietly, someone near me says "have a nice day."  I looked up to see a young girl dropping napkin on my table and walking away.

Inside the napkin was a note: a verse from Philippians, and a testimony that God had blessed her by providing a way for her to have her college paid for, and for helping her father through a terrible sickness.

At first, I wanted to be a little offended.  Why of all the people in Starbucks did this girl single me out?  What made me look like such a sinner who needed her witness?

Calmer--albiet over-caffienated--thoughts prevailed.  This girl was feeling happy and blessed, and just wanted to share those blessings with someone else.  And who can blame her for that? If her witness was about happiness and peace, it was surely a message I could use.

Over the past few months I have felt extremely restless, like something just wasn't settled or should be happening for me... but just wasn't.  And this girl pointed out to me exactly what I wasn't doing right.

I tend to focus on goals that I am working toward, things that I want to have or to make happen, instead of stopping and enjoying the things that I have.  And that's no way to live!  All of those things that we work so hard for aren't worth it unless we enjoy them.  It's high time I focus on my blessings in life.  So:

1) I come home every day and "feel" home. Sure it's just an apartment.  But it has my piano and my furniture and my dog.  And I love every inch of the space. 
2) I have a dog that curls up with me without me asking. And early in the morning that is such a cozy thing.
3) I work with the BEST people in Kentucky. Hands down.  They are already like family and I can't imagine what I would do without them around to give me a good laugh and wise advice every day.
4) I have a boyfriend who helps with laundry and takes out the trash.  That, in my world, is priceless.
5) I have a family who loves me unconditionally and who are so much fun to be around.
6) And... (sound trumpets)... I have been given an answer to my restlessness! It seems as though I will be teaching a communications class at Georgetown College this fall.  Again, I work with the best people in Kentucky who are totally supportive and willing to work this into my schedule... and I'm so excited to have the opportunity to teach! It is DEFINITELY going to keep me busy this summer... restlessness gone!

Sure, I have so many goals yet to be attained, and SO many unknowns about my life and the turns that await me in coming months.  But... I am choosing today to be happy in the things that I have now.  Because there's a whole lot to be happy about.

Freedom.. and Forgiveness

Last week I finished Freedom, and its ending has been stewing in my head for the past several days.  The second half of the book seemed to drag a bit... but I think that was the point.  It's a story about a seemingly ordinary family and the ways they hurt each other, and the ways they endure each other.  And even if you can't identify personally with what they do and the things that happen, the occurrences are not out of your realm of understanding or possibility.  

When I started Freedom, I thought it would be a story of self-discovery and finding a new path through life.  Halfway through, I thought it would have a tragic, depressing ending.  And I was wrong on both counts.  It is a story about forgiveness.  And at first I couldn't believe in it.  After all the things that had happened, how could this family still have such a capacity for forgiveness and love?  Is is really possible for two people to look at each other after so many years of hurt and angst, and still find love?  It's a very humbling thing, forgiveness.  I think about too many bad afternoon TV shows with families ripping each other apart on Dr. Phil or Oprah, and how many times I've said "I would NEVER forgive someone if they did that to me."  But is that really true?  Because isn't it true that we hurt the ones we love the most because we CAN?  Not that we set out to be hurtful, but the people that care about us are the ones who can absorb our hurt, our anger, our disappointments in each other...and continue to be there for us.  The opposite of love isn't hate; it is apathy.  So if we hurt over someones actions, the love is still there.  I think it takes a terrible amount of energy to hate; and when you add the physical and emotional history that tie our lives to our family and friends, it would take so much energy and emotion to truly severe that tie.  To me, the message in Freedom was that this family's capacity to forgive and to love was greater than their desire to spend any more energy on hate and bitterness.  It took years, it took time, but the love was always there, waiting to be rekindled, waiting to reconnect. 

So, here's to forgiveness, and choosing love.

What's So Great About Me Anyways?

My friend Ashley convinced me to start going to a personal trainer with her twice a week for the next several weeks.  Since I have yet to motivate myself this spring, I figured a good friend and a scary person to make me work out might be worth the try.  I came home today, put on my gym clothes, and headed to the gym, expecting to be mortified at how out of shape I am. But it was far worse; we didn't even work out--we just took BODY FAT and MEASUREMENTS!  Yikes.  And let me tell you, this trainer stuff is serious.  Our trainer is a big burly Brazlian dude with tattoos down to his wrists.  He talked to us a lot about our fitness goals and gave us "homework" to bring back tomorrow, when we really start training.  But, it does seem like it will work.  At the very least, my wallet is going to be lighter!

This is the first time in a while that I feel like I'm setting a concrete, measurable goal for myself, and it feels good.  I've been feeling a bit restless lately; not unhappy with anything particular in life, but just feeling like something is missing.  I can't put my finger on what it is. I'm generally an overachiever, and let's face it, I have functioned for the past several years now under a high level of stress.  Maybe the abscence of that stress has just thrown me off?  Or maybe now that the stress is gone, I don't know what to do with the time.  I am really enjoying reading more (ALMOST finished with Freedom!) and of course there's the personal trainer now... but is that enough?  What is enough to make you feel happy and fulfilled with just you?  Sometimes I feel like I'm good at a lot of things but not really great at anything. And is that a good or a bad thing? Is it better to be ok at a lot of things or to be incredible at one or two things?  And if so, what am I so great at? Or at least so good at? 

Update on the visit--I took Sean's family to Woodford Reserve, to lunch and shopping in Midway, and to Ashland, the Henry Clay Estate with a quick drive by Keeneland, the Castle in Versailles, and through Georgetown thrown in between. I think they had a good time--and if not, they did a magnificent job of pretending to have fun and tolerating my driving!  I don't expect that they will get here very often, so it was really nice to have them see where I'm from and hopefully get to know me a little better.  Thanks for all the suggestions on where to take them!