My New-Old Life

Today I dusted off my 3-speed Raleigh Sprite, the bicycle I purchased with some of my first paychecks from the Ames Tribune back in 1977. It cost me $154 and I rode it to work for 7 years, except when inclement weather dictated it necessary to take CyRide.  The fender is still a little twisted from the neighbor on Hyland who didn't like sharing the carport with a bicycle, but other than that, it's still in pretty good shape. I  parked the bike when I was pregnant with Emily and I can't say I've done any significant riding since.

So now seems a good time to resurrect the bike riding habit - we'll be living about 2 miles from downtown, and biking for Saturday morning breakfast sounds like a fun excursion.  And the library is about 3 miles - a perfect afternoon outing to toodle along.  I have no interest in suffering from "biker buns" after a regrettable experience in Minnesota, and anticipate breaking myself in slowly!

What to do? What to do?

I told a friend this morning that I have been making decisions non-stop for 45 days, and I find it exhausting. I don't have trouble sleeping at night!  Today's dilemma:  Should I keep the fondue pot or chuck it quickly before the ESI truck gets here?  Last time we used it, for a "fun" and leisurely small group gathering, the guys groused so much about having to wait for each piece of meat to cook that I finally grabbed the bowls of meat and stir fried the beef and chicken just to shut them up. The fondue fiasco has become the poster child for bad group gatherings.  I have such fond memories of gatherings around fondue pots in the 70s - is life too busy and instant now?

I'm also trying to decide what to do with the card table and chairs - the table no longer smells like formaldehyde from the time we dissected baby pigs on it (thank you, Steve Love) and the seats fall off the chairs only if they are handled roughly. And I need to find out whose tub of dress up clothes still remain in the store room - definitely college-looking stuff, including black wig, farm caps, a lovely white robe and other miscellaneous items.  Dance Marathon, perhaps?  Claim it, kidlings!

A Gift

For those of you who have ever loved an animal, you will know how happy I am about this: the buyer of our home in Muscatine has agreed to "adopt" our cats, as well.  Punky and Abby have hunted the bluff their entire lives, and we thought it cruel to force them into a 700 mile car ride and expect them to live inside, or at least in a small fenced area in Tennessee.

I am amazed and grateful that they can continue to endear themselves to the neighbors by reducing the rodent population, and I trust they will be serene companions to their new caretaker. What a gift to my distracted, concerned heart!

Whipped Cream

So I've been separated from Bruce for a week now, and have resorted to the comfort afforded by eating whipped cream out of an aerosol can. It's fewer calories than actually eating, say, ice cream with fudge sauce, and there is something decadent about doing the forbidden, although I am not delusional to think that Bruce or the kids have not sprayed their mouths full of the stuff when I was not looking. 

They know that I am a germ-a-phobe and don't like drinking out of other people's glasses and would faint at the thought of using someone else's toothbrush. I also keep hand sanitizer in my purse for appropriate moments, like when we're encouraged to shake hands with people in church - especially when I just saw them cough or wipe their nose minutes before.  I just had the thought that it might be residual caution I developed when I was going through chemotherapy when my immune system was compromised and I had low white blood counts.  Anyway, I'm hardly ever sick, so there must be some benefit.

I spent most of Friday printing, signing, scanning and returning papers for purchasing our home in Franklin. There came a point after 45 minutes of trying to remind the computer and scanner/printer that they were supposed to be friends and talk to each other, rebooting several times with no success, that I laid my head down on the table and wanted to cry.  It just wasn't working, and I had 17 pages to get back to Bruce. I lifted my head and raised my voice to the Father and said, "You have to fix it - I can't and I don't know what else to do!  I need help!"  And I clicked on the Import button and the scanner started.  He is Lord over even the pathetic technology we have created here, and I am deeply grateful. Then I DID cry, but out of gratitude, not frustration.

Saturday my sister Rosemary came to help - I needed an unbiased opinion on sorting through the toys - and she provided wonderful moral support.  Plus, the Scrabble god smiled on me, she picked up an inordinate number of vowels and I got to put the X on a triple letter space, enough to push me over the top for the day. Scrabble, you know, is the Oliver Girls Game.

My Reason for Being Thankful Today

See, I can safely post this because I know Michael never reads this blog - he's living the adventure with me and he hates being given redundant information. Here he is in our disastrous "storage room," wearing Bruce's old FFA jacket, which Bruce declares, "fits MJ perfectly" although I have put a dashed line to show where the jacket actually hits him - the rest of the dark color is his t-shirt.  And you also can't see that if he flexed his muscles at all, the fabric would shred right off his shoulders.

I am so grateful for this young man who has really "manned-up" with Bruce gone, hauling dirt, raking leaves, cleaning out the gutters, muscling heavy stuff up the stairs, and remaining kind and gentle when I'm having a meltdown. He hauls himself out of bed every morning at 4:00 to put in his hours at a local manufacturing plant and comes home to help me with whatever project I'm working on. He's good company at mealtime, too.  He takes off for National Outdoor Leadership School in January, so he'll be living with friends in Muscatine for a couple of months. The timing has been wonderful, to have him here, "for such a time as this."

What an incredible blessing he has been in this segment of our journey - my reason for being thankful today.

Let's Make a Deal

Well, as happens in an ever-shifting real estate market, the seller of our chosen house declined our offer in hopes of getting a better one (good luck there) and while we are disappointed, we have moved on. 
 
So, we're looking behind Door Number 2 now, in hopes of finding a home.  This house is the same neighborhood, same floor plan - on steroids.  Much larger than we want or need. I keep pinching myself to see if there has been some mistake. It's a lovely home, 10 years old or so. At this point, it looks as though we have a deal, pending home and pest inspections.  

It has the same Florida room (windows on 3 sides) and a Master Bedroom suite that will accommodate pretty much all the furniture we have here in Iowa. My sister suggested that we could have a family sleepover and the Arentson family could all sleep in the master on air mattresses. It could happen!
 
The good news is, interest rates haven't been this low since the 1960s. I've always said, if I was in charge of our finances, we'd be living in a cave - with a mortgage. But, I'm married to Bruce, and keeping books is a hobby for him. So, I'm in good shape there. I'm guessing it wouldn't surprise anyone that he has the checkbook and computer down in Tennessee, and I just send him emails to let him know what I've spent. It's kinda creepy, though.  Tuesday night I stopped by Blain's Farm and Fleet at 8:42 and bought some walnuts and almonds, and when I talked to him at 9:10, he already knew it because he was doing books online.  It's a good thing I know he loves me or else I'd be paranoid.

So now it's the waiting game. While Bruce is in Tennessee, I am busily sorting and taking care of details on this end. That means I secretly throw things away.  Or give stuff away. (I'm truly proud of Michael. He took his extensive collection of Legos and gave them to the Flickinger Learning Center (at risk kids) here in Muscatine. He "gets it.") I did find the set of keys Bruce has been missing for 35 years. I put his high school letter jacket in the dryer on "air dry" to knock some of the dust out of it, and it sounded like the enamel was being bludgeoned from the dryer drum. I opened it to find said keys. Bruce told me that he used to have a tendency to lock his keys in the car...but if all else failed, he kept a piece of baling wire twisted around a sign post at school, so if he needed to, he could pick the door lock. 

Oh baby, times have changed!

SO not fair!

How come, with all this stress, Bruce lost 6 pounds and I GAINED 3?
It's just not right, I tell you! Something is twisted and diabolical in this universe.

Must be the 3 weeks I've spent in front of the computer doing recon work. I've looked at 200 houses online and researched dozens of other things. I've always told Bruce I would fare better than he would under siege. My clothes would still fit me long after he's wasted away to nothing.

Speaking of clothes, today I hung the James Sterling 1967 paper dress (complete with bag and floppy hat) out to air. It was packed away, a gag gift from my mom who pulled it out of a box and sent it to Bruce and me for our 1st wedding anniversary. I kept it in a cedar-lined trunk for 25 years, and think it is totally suitable for Emily for Halloween. If it were in pristine condition it would be worth $100 to someone who wanted it. (That's a big "if.")  I just wanted to be fair and tell you that Bruce isn't the only person who has squirreled away questionable stuff over the years. I'm tackling some of my own treasures before I go after someone else's.   Is that like taking the plank out of my own eye before pointing out someone's sliver?


Still trying to make a deal with  the sellers - I've discovered that "home" is where Bruce and I are, not an address. It was hard for me to leave him down in Franklin, and I'm eager to join him again soon, hopefully in a house - but I told him years ago that I'd live in a cave to spend life with him, and I still mean it. (Although indoor plumbing would be a definite plus!)

5 minutes

Five minutes - that's how much time I had to spare making my connection in Memphis this morning. The plane in Nashville got off 1/2 hour late with mechanical issues and I already had a close connection for my flight out of Memphis to Moline. So glad I made it - otherwise my 3-1/2 hour journey would have stretched into 14 or 16 hours since the only other flight into Moline drags in late tonight.

Arrived home to rake leaves, water plants and get mid-month bills in order. Tomorrow I'll start sorting in earnest. Funny thing, down-sizing means we are going to have less stuff, so some stiff-lipped, cold-hearted pitching is in order.  (NOT THE HARLAN LETTER JACKET AND FFA AND SHELBY COUNTY 4-H JACKETS!!!!) I'm seriously thinking one of the bedrooms is going to have to be Bruce's man cave. He can store the past 30 years of receipts in there too. And the ISU memorabilia and his collection of Kent trucks. And the computer desk he refuses to part with. Might have to put the TV and treadmill in there too. There you go - the room is completely outfitted. 

That was easy!

Maybe...

Well, we finished looking at homes around noon today, emailed our realtor with a bid on one of them and headed off to enjoy what was left of the afternoon.  We decided to meander up to Brentwood to kill time before the Saturday evening service at Brentwood Fellowship Bible Church (I'm flying out early tomorrow) and along Franklin Road we saw what must be some of the biggest houses in the free world.  What do people do with 15-20,000 square foot monstrosities like that???

Just as we were leaving Brentwood, my cell phone rang and it was Kim, our realtor, who said she had time to get our bid down formally - we were just a few miles from her building.  We programmed her address into lovely Carmen the Garman and spent an hour or so doing the legal stuff, so it's official now - we have a bid in.  The house is 2300 square feet with an open floor plan, 3 BR, 2-1/2 BA, all hardwood except the bedrooms.  Everything is on one floor so we can live here forever. :)

Bruce doesn't have much room for his table saw - no basements in this part of the country and it's only a 2-car garage, but we'll figure something if we can get a deal worked out. Maybe he can put up a shed in the back yard and keep some of his toys out there!

We'll see!!

The inhabitants

Truly, folks here are friendly.

In burning up a tank of gas in my neighborhood cruising I've been invited to join garden clubs, Bunko groups, reading clubs and to become walking companions. I've met Canadians, Floridians, and women from Alabama and South Carolina. They all read the "Southern Hospitality" manual and know how to use it. Nice!

Our Realtor is a tiny Korean, and 200% sheer adrenalin. Kim has worked hard for us - and made me understand that I don't think I would ever want to be a Realtor and deal with the head cases like me who are trying to adjust to a new life and find a house at the same time.  Amazingly, she hasn't killed me off yet in her frustration and remains ridiculously cheerful and upbeat.

Today Bruce and I prefaced our day's house hunting with an early, quick trip to the Carnton Plantation - I discovered the beautiful drive up to the house and Confederate cemetery yesterday on my gas burning excursion. I don't think I oversold it to him - Bruce enjoyed it as much as I did. Our new best friend is definitely the Garman. The streets of Franklin look like they were designed by a spider smoking reefers.  I'm still praying that God will heal my sense of direction - it is totally broken right now, with West is East and North is South. Ack!

We're heading out to play this afternoon. It's beautiful out - the trees are in raucous color and we both will benefit from their soul-healing beauty. Yippee!

A Breath of Fresh Air?

So we found a house that was a likely candidate yesterday, and this morning I dropped Bruce off at work and drove to see what morning traffic was like, checked out the neighborhood, and trolled the adjoining streets and chatted with the walkers. Very friendly people around here.

Yesterday I noticed a "burning plastic" sort of smell and we attributed it to someone getting rid of some trash. Today as I drove into the subdivision, (Franklin is a very small town - the surrounding farms were purchased and developed into multiple subdivisions) I noticed the smell again today, and after two hours of being there, I had a raging headache, my throat and chest hurt, and my eyes burned.  I went back to the apartment and got online to check out possible air quality issues and discovered that a wire plant about 1/2 mile from the neighborhoods we were investigating releases emissions of phenol (in compliance with the EPA).  There are petitions and grievances filed against the company, but no solution in sight.

I have a "fragrance allergy" and a common ingredient in perfumes and air fresheners is phenol.  Bummer!  But it was better to discover the issue before we signed a purchase agreement.  (It would only have been a problem when the prevailing wind was from the North or Northwest - or basically all winter.) The wind changed yesterday morning to the NW; otherwise, I would not have known about it. God is kind.

So tomorrow is Saturday, and I fly back to Iowa on Sunday. It will be interesting to see what God has in store for us, house-wise. I trust His timing - He is never late.

(Sometimes I do question His sense of humor, however!)

Need Rain? Call 1-800-BRUCEJO

It's true - just ask my folks how many times we've traveled to Bancroft for a weekend and the weather turned off poorly - either rain or snow. Or we went to the cabin of friends and wound up with snow (in October) or rain. Or the time we took the kids to Backbone State Park in mid-September and there were record lows (33 degrees) and rain so we had to sleep with the oven on, its door open, to stay warm.

And now, here in Franklin after 6 weeks of drought, we've apparently brought thunderstorms and overcast skies. I'm sure folks here were glad to see the rain, but it surely put a damper on looking at houses, not to mention getting outside to walk and explore. I'm starting to feel paranoid, but not nearly as much if we had come down here in early May when they had 17" of rain and record flooding!

So house hunting has turned up zeros so far.  We are grateful for the people who are praying for us and evidently keeping us somewhat sane. I am continuing to survive my identity crisis, the constant need for a compass - there are NO straight roads here - and "every day is a bad hair day."  I should have gotten a haircut before I left  Muscatine but I just didn't have time.  (This is about as girly as I get - I'm having a hair emergency and I broke my deodorant and had to use Bruce's Old Spice (sorry Pete - I know that grosses you out) but no ambulance is necessary.) I'm aware of a calming peace in the middle of all this chaos.

God is good and I know the story ends well!

"Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore"

For those of you who are wondering how Bruce is faring in this transition, he has quoted Dorothy from the Land of Oz as she looks in wonderment at a strange land of Living Color.  Leaving his homogeneous collection of Iowa work comrades, Bruce has entered an international world and there's a bit of culture shock that comes with it.

His boss is French, whose boss is German.  On his team are folks from England, Canada, Japan, and India. Gone is his office with a door, and "hello bullpen interaction and collaboration." No more piles of paper and stacks of files - everything is spotless at quitting time. Bruce is entering his 3rd day now, and starting to get his sea legs. He is gaining an ear for the new accents (we have yet to meet a native Tennessean) and doesn't need the GPS to get to work. He knows the first-30-days-plan and is looking forward to moving into it.

It's a brand new world, baby, and he's embracing it!

How Come?

So, of our "two good possibilities" houses, one already has a sale pending and the other is in short sale, with the net/net that it would be 60-120 days before it could be closed on. So we're on to the next two "good possibilities."

I woke up in the night asking, "Why did You give our house to someone else??" and "But I will trust You."

And I remembered the passage in Luke 5 where Jesus tells Peter to cast his net in the water, even though Peter has been fishing all night and caught nothing. Despite the fact that Peter is a professional fisherman, he does what Jesus asks, and the catch is so large that it starts sinking both his boat and that of his buddies. Peter leaves the catch of his life and falls at the feet of Jesus, uttering an acknowledgement that Jesus is more than human, and that Peter has no business being in the same space with Him. And (I think Jesus is laughing here) Jesus says, "Come, follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men." And Peter leaves everything and follows Him.

May it ever be so, Lord Jesus!

House Hunting

I was told that house hunting is the most fun part about moving. If that's true, kill me now.

Anybody who knows me, knows I'd rather take a stick to the head than shop. I like to go, get what I need, and go home. Period.

Home buying is like drug-crazed shopping that will put you in debt for 15 or 30 years. What's to like about that? No home is perfect, and they're in a continual state of deterioration from the day they're built. So I'm committed to "living in the land of Good Enough".  The mantra of this move is "Give me neither poverty nor riches" from Proverbs 30 - there is no room for perfectionism in living a peaceful life. (A perfectionist is a person who takes great pains...and gives them to others!)

So after viewing 15 or so homes over the past 2 days, I've whittled the list down to 2 good possibilities. Both are about 10-12 minutes to work for Bruce and about 15 minutes to the church we visited (profound, applicable and accurate teaching) and have the majority of things on our "want list." We didn't know we'd have to add $50K for a yard large enough that we couldn't shake hands with our neighbors through the side windows.  That was a rude awakening.

But we're learning. And Mom always said if you learned something, it was a good day.

Sunday Morning

Even though it's Tuesday night, I still want to talk about Sunday morning.

I had told Bruce when we woke up in the little corporate apartment he'd been assigned that I was pretty sure I'd lost my identity during the night. We'd had dinner in a funky downtown establishment, listened to some big label song writers sharing their craft in a side street coffee shop, and acted like we were tourists on vacation. But we were in Franklin to stay, not just here for a sweetheart retreat. And that sort of hit me Sunday morning.

I was still sure I was a Daughter of the King, the wife of Bruce, and mom to 3 amazing kids and a sweet daughter-in-love, but after that I was pretty fuzzy.  Back in Muscatine I didn't have to think about who I was.  I didn't have to wonder how I was defined, or how I would travel from Point A to Point B. I knew how I was connected to my neighbors, friends and community.

Here, I am unknown.  And that's a bit disconcerting.

So Bruce and I headed off to church even though I just wanted to crawl under a rock and be introspective. And I was stunned to hear the video interview of a volunteer whose "First Touch Ministry" is to reach out with compassion to new folks, "to know them and help their identities be known". (Ack! That women had been in my bedroom this morning!  She heard me say I'd lost my identity! How else could she know??) What a joy it was to hear someone validate my uncertainty, my angst.  She knew how I felt and wanted to help me - and she was Jesus with skin on to me.   I'm beginning to have new thoughts, tender thoughts, about refugees, immigrants and people who have faced trauma and change. And it's all good. I know I won't be the same for having had this experience of aloneness in the middle of many.

And my take away for the morning was an application to 1 John 4:19 "we love because He first loved us" - a challenge to wake up each morning and thank God for another day to be loved by Him. So easy for me to miss that. It is He who loves us and teaches us to love. I expect to be transformed.

The Vagabonds Arrive!

Bruce & I crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky on Sunday, October 10, 2010, and skirted the Cumberland River as we entered our new home State of Tennessee. What an amazing conflict of emotions!


I felt rising excitement as we neared Nashville, even as traffic screeched to a halt on I-24. An old car had burned up on the side of the road, causing a grass fire, backing up vehicles for miles. As we languished in the heat peering ahead for signs of movement, I began to feel very alone and unknown, stuck out in the middle of nowhere in this state where I only knew a couple of families.


After 45 minutes had passed, Bruce nixed my plan to go from car to car sharing our package of double-stuffed Oreos, but he did finally get out of the car to chat with the random strangers who were in the lane in front of us and on our right (of COURSE we were in the passing lane!)  The couple in the car next to us was from Marshalltown, IA, and the man knew the grandfather of the Missouri driver in front of us - in fact, he knew him well enough to tell us that the old guy always got #1 on his license plate. And the Missouri driver and his wife were at Iowa State at the same time as Bruce was, residents of the Towers and Richardson Ct., respectively. Unbelievable!


What an amazing set of circumstances to send a little comfort to us wandering vagabonds. God orchestrated a little bit of Iowa on an isolated patch of Tennessee highway, and what a delight it was to us!