System Reboot

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!  Especially to my own Mom, who has definately earned her stripes.  :)

I'm back online again, thanks to the purchase of a wireless card.  The reconnection to technology has me feeling a bit bloggy.  Also, having the Internets has brought me closer to sanity than I've been as of late.

To tell the truth, this relocation and house re-do process stinks to high heaven, and not just from the cat pee.  Once again, normal life has come to a screeching halt until the house is done and we're moved.  Judging by the way my brain and body seem to have both rebelled, I think I've reached my life limit of house redo's.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that we JUST finished totally redoing our supposed-to-be-permanent house outside of Mountain Home which we are now fretting about trying to sell without losing our pants or what goes into them before hubby deploys for a year.  Maybe it's all that, plus the fact that in my relatively short adult life, I've been involved in the redoing of numerous houses.  This doesn't include any of the family house redo's and remodels of my youth where I frequently found a paintbrush in my hand.  I firmly believe every home renovation, whether it's simple paint or full-blown remodel, removes years from a person's life span.  Or, maybe it has nothing to do with any of the above, and it's simply that my brain has had to switch gears so many times lately that the transmission is ailing.

My fervent wish, now that I'm in my mid-30's, is to stay in one house for at least five years.  My current record is 2.  While not every move has required home improvement, more have than not.  Every time before when improvements have been called for, I've charged into home remodeling head-first, proud that I don't have to depend on someone else to paint, hang and mud drywall, cut and install trim, and can step up to other similar tasks that crop up when one attempts to improve a home.  This time it's with my feet firmly dragging, though the decision seems subconscious and involuntary.  I'd gladly pay for the word to be done, but after materials, the funds just aren't there. 

My husband recently (very gingerly) commented on my recent inability to make a decision, and I couldn't argue, as I'd just stood in the pant section of Lowes for twenty minutes, body in a state of exhaustion from lack of sleep, caught between trying to decide whether to sit on the floor and sob or angrily curse the fates for making so many shades of similar green....before having a full-blown panic attack when he asked what I wanted to do for supper.

Stress does funny things to a person.

This past weekend, while hubby has been busy writing a paper for a class while buried under a major work load, at his urging I took off for my home town and the quiet, rural familiarity of my parent's house.  I was feeling a bit guilty for cutting out when there is so much work to done, until in the span of one hour I'd tripped over a paint can, dropped the cordless drill on the air mattress, puncturing it with a huge hole, then broke the dog's waterer and removed a chunk of my finger trying to fill it.  Sometimes you just need to walk away.

This small break also coincided with our bi-annual trip to the craft fairs in Northwest Arkansas, where Mom, a friend, and I all happily enjoyed the nice weather while perusing booths, admiring the clever items, pulling faces at the gaudy and ridiculous, and buying stuff we didn't at all need.  I came home with three hand-made rugs, a butter keeper (an ingenious hand-thrown clay contraption that allows for butter to be kept at room temperature for grand lengths of time without going bad, therefore making it possible to spread without destroying your toast or biscuit), a couple of crocheted nylon pot-scrubbers, some old-fashioned milled cornmeal, and a nice big white, yellow, and happily daisy-shaped "Welcome" sign for our new house.

One item I didn't buy, but stopped to read when it screamed for my attention, was a sign repeating a phrase I'd heard before, but it never hit home like it does now.  "While we're busy counting our troubles, we seldom stop to count our blessings."  Sometimes you need a break, and sometimes you need to know when to pay attention.  It's not likely I'll quit whining, and I'll definitely have bad days (probably until things are settled and we get a nice relaxing vacation), but there is a light to the end of this tunnel.  Even if it sounds cheesy or simplistic, it's true...I find myself heading back to Little Rock with a full trailer behind me and an improved attitude.  I should not only be glad for a house and a great husband, but that we have the ability to do the work needed ourselves, as well as family always eager to help us where we fall short. 

I probably should've bought that sign to hang in our soon-to-be-finished home. 

But then, maybe I'll just think of the phrase when I use the butter keeper.