A Merge

If I can figure out how to do it, I am merging Walliebloggin' and Walliebloggin' 2.  Both will be under Walliebloggin' from now on...I hope.

Everyone needs a groove and a dog food bowl.

We are taking a break from settling in at the new homestead, to housesit back in our rocky mountain playground.  We’ve been going pretty much non-stop for a couple of months preparing to move, moving, renovating, unpacking, and finally (hope this isn’t too premature) putting the finishing touches on our new (to us) home.  Originally, skiing was in the picture, but some knee pain is keeping me off the slopes this trip until a plan of action for it becomes apparent, so we are in a slow it down/take it as it comes mode and we will just enjoy being here instead of go-go-go (but its only day two-ha!).

We will be entrusted with a couples home that is two doors down from our first housesit in August.  We met them on that trip and their two precious Westies we will be caring for.  Their home is also on the golf course, but buried under a few feet of snow at the moment.  A sad, but pretty sight nonetheless.

Until our housesit begins in a few days, we are hanging out at a friend’s place getting acclimated to the altitude and the scenery that never lets you down.  So while we are here, getting our mountain fix, I will try to share some scenes and thoughts as the days trickle by.

Nature's way of keeping these bicycles safe from being stolen til spring.

What better way than to start with breakfast?  Those of you that know me, really know me, know that cereal was an addiction for me.  During a certain dark period of my early adulthood, I could be caught eating large quantities out of a dog food bowl, lovingly given to me, yet enabled my problem with multiple variations of cereal that came pre-sugared and naked.

Some 30 plus years later, without any rehab, I’ve wrestled my intake of Sugar Frosted Flakes, Sugar Pops, and way back in the day…Captain Crunch (among others)… to a manageable, semi-normal serving size of Kashi’s Heart to Heart Oat Flakes & blueberry clusters.  That is most days.  But a few years ago (and I have shared this before) Snoqualmie Falls Lodge Old Fashioned Pancake and Waffle Mix found me.  A taste bud marriage made in culinary heaven, that will last as long as humanly possible.

So back to, “What better way than to start with breakfast?”  Whether at home, traveling on the road, or on a housesit, this blessed mix accompanies me if at all possible.  In previous blogs I’ve eluded to its presence, but until now have not shared a more comprehensive take of this gift from above.  You see, when I have one of these gems for breakfast (blueberry pancake or waffle), it just didn’t start when I woke up and felt that empty feeling from the night before, having topped off dinner with a slice of apple streusel pie-heated (half price, compliments of the local grocery store), paired with a traditional scoop or three of vanilla ice cream…no, it usually begins a day, sometimes two days before.  It is my break from Kashi and shakes my intestines up a bit, variety and all that.  So yesterday, we got our legs under us at altitude and got out and got a little fresh air (shopping!).  I got the feeling that today would be a good Snoqualmie day.  Didn’t say anything to Beth, but in my mind I knew it was coming.

As the lights went out on the way to slumber land, I mentioned to Beth I felt like a blueberry pancake in the morning, if she was interested.  She is usually good for a smallish one, but without syrup (that’s a whole other chapter). 

Morning arrives as it usually does (thank goodness and I think that everyday!) and as I check my extremities to begin loosening them up in preparation for getting vertical, Snoqualmie becomes my focus.  I say nothing to Beth, because I don’t’ want my addiction to sound worse than it is.  The process begins.

I won’t go so far as to metaphor this whole affair as if it were a dance, that’s a little creepy.  But more of a groove I slip into.  I will spare you the details, but hit some important highlights.  This is an add only water mix…no eggs, oil, whatever, so it is right up there with my ability level in the kitchen.  My measurement tool is not a measuring cup or measuring spoons…it’s a fork.  I know that 5 fork-fulls, makes the perfect size pancake or waffle (for me).  It’s not giant or too small, it’s just right.  While the mix awaits the griddle to warm up, the blueberries get washed and de-stemmed (if there are any to be found).  Then they are scooped up and with a little love-squeeze, dropped into the batter.  That little finger hug shows my appreciation for their wonderful addition to the trifecta of taste that completes one pancake…the mix, the syrup, and the blueberries.

Finger hugs all around.  Thanks for being so tasty!

This wonderful slurry awaits its turn on the griddle.

The batter that is now overloaded with blueberries is ladled onto the griddle, and the rest is pretty much salivary history.  A couple of eggs and maybe either milk or orange juice compliments the setting.  But the pièce de résistance is the Log Cabin (No High Fructose Corn Syrup) Original Syrup – A family tradition since 1887!  Log Cabin is some baggage I evidently have carried around since my childhood; it’s just not the same without it.  What I marvel at every time is how little time it takes to eat it, compared with preparing it.  But I enjoy the beginning, the middle, and the end, each just as much…well maybe the end more!  So you see, it is not just making a pancake, its not “a dance”, it’s a groove.  And I look forward to getting my groove on in another 4 or 5 days.

A picture never tasted so good!

My Zen from the Road:  I miss my old dog food bowl I ate cereal from…or maybe it’s the fact I could eat copious amounts of cereal and my body kept its awesomeness…at least until I hit 30!  Either one, it just goes to show you we can’t and don’t stay the same (physically and other-wise).  We are not made that way.  Whether it is incorporating a morning routine to get your joints moving before jumping out of bed to greet the day, or maybe just rolling out of bed, trying not to go to the floor in the process, and accepting another day is upon you…we adapt, we change, and we are the better for it or at least we should try to be.  We are a work in progress.  And when we are done, well…I guess we will be able to eat out of dog food bowls again.

On our way out, we stopped for gas
in Goodland and had a moment with Van Gogh's
"Sunflowers," Kansas style.

Measuring Change

The more things change, the more they stay the same…  I get it, but I don’t.  The more things change, the more things change.  Now that makes sense.

As a science teacher, my students and I discussed that for living things to survive, they must adapt to their surroundings or they end up struggling and may not survive.  Well, this last year I found myself practicing what I preached.  The change I am talking about can be measured in many ways.  For example, the distance of 7.6 miles, measures the distance from the home I’ve known for a looong time, to mine and Beth's new (circa 1985) townhome.  This change began in earnest about a month ago and involves Beth and me packing up and moving to OUR new place around Christmas time.  This is something I haven’t done for over 25 years, but Beth has now done it twice in 2 years!  I recommend it to NO ONE…moving that is (due to what seems like endless cleaning, packing, throwing away, taking what you just threw in the trash back out and rethinking it, then throwing it back in the trash (or not)).  

Over the last six months, we looked around to see what was available in maintenance free housing.  There was always something that ruled out a particular home, townhome, or condo.  Until THIS ONE became available.  A townhome with storage (or at least more than others we had seen to that point).  Updated, good location, apparently move-in ready, and we BOTH LIKED IT.  Strike while the iron is hot!  We offered.  They countered.  We accepted.  And before we knew it, we owned two properties, had two sets of utility bills, two mailboxes, and two places that needed work.  For purposes of clarity, we will call the home in Blue Springs, my home city since I was a freshman in high school, House #1.  The new place located in Lee’s Summit will be House #2.  And for a two-week period in the middle of this evolution over Thanksgiving, we house-sat for friends in House #3.

While waiting for the closing on house #2, the wheels started turning on “what-ifs.”  What if we changed the flooring?  What if we took out a small wall (there are no small walls!)?  What if we covered up the brick on the fireplace?  And the snowball express left the station.  Beth has great vision on what the possibilities are in a space and soon, as if animated through HGTV, a wall disappeared, floor tile was coming out (thanks Jeff), kitchen cabinets were being painted, brick is being dry walled over (thanks Shannon), and of course new wall colors became endless.  Not to mention a different kind of trim and baseboard touch, door handles, and window treatments.  By the time we signed our 30-year commitment to our lender, we were ready to hit the ground running.  Over the last couple of months, a transformation has taken place from our “move-in ready” townhouse to OUR new renovated townHOME and the running part has slowed to a walk with a limp.

I don’t want to leave you with the impression that House #2 is now complete.  Let’s just say that all of the stuff we didn’t donate, throw away, or leave for the buyers of House #1, has found space under the roof of House #2.  By the time the last paintbrush has been washed out and final dust pile swept up…let’s just say that winter’s grip will be a fading memory.

What makes change easier, is knowing that what you are leaving behind will be ok.  On a grand scale, that must have been one thing on Miki’s mind as she expressed her concern not for herself, but for me, her family, and her friends, as she moved on and left us behind.  Hopefully she found that peace in knowing we would be fine.  To a much less degree, I felt this for my home of 25 years.  A 26-year-old house (when it was purchased) that was transformed over the following 25 years into a home that became special to me.

With the changes Beth and I have experienced in our lives recently, letting the house go was overdue, so that we could begin with a blank slate with each other and create a home of our own together.

After placing it on the market last fall and showing it to a number of prospects, the accolades began to flow and were nice to hear and the enthusiasm of these potential buyers easily got me excited multiple times to receive an offer that never came, that first month.  That is until a young couple looking for their first house came to look it over.  With their 2 year old son, a parent, and their realtor in tow, the tour began.  As I began giving background information on updates in the kitchen, one of the potential buyers had slipped away into the TV room where she was looking out the back door.  Between words, I heard a soft gasp of sorts from her, as she viewed the backyard and the park beyond.  At that moment, that falling in love gasp from what she saw and felt, seemed to have sealed the deal in my mind.  As she rounded the corner to find her way back to us, the smile on her face said it all.  She saw the potential for her home as I did, the day I walked through it for the first time.  She saw her son playing in the backyard and taking advantage of the park they had come to visit many times in the past.  They left Beth and me with many thanks for taking our time to share our home with them.  They went directly to the realtor’s office and called with an offer…exactly what we were asking.  With that, change became palpable.

With all the hoops to jump through during the closing process (the inspection, the appraisal, things to fix from the inspection, displaced anger towards the inspector, things you want to do to the inspector for things on his list of  “you might want to change or fix…”, and then there is the termite inspection and the remnants of long passed problems they don’t want to take a chance on, but I digress…), when the time came to walk out the door for the last time, I was ready and OK.  I did take a moment the morning of the closing, to sit in an empty house on the floor, looking out at one of my favorite views into the backyard, toward the tree house and into the park and revisited numerous memories.  I won’t have the house anymore, but the memories are mine.

Since then, change has meant progress.  Where we couldn’t walk before, boxes have been moved and emptied so we can now walk.  Priorities have expressed themselves in trips to the ReStore, Goodwill, and the awesomely big trash bins up the street and before long, hopefully before the winter thaw, the car will find its home inside its garage each night (that it has never had) and I will have room to begin constructing our master bathroom vanity.

There has also been a change in the tonnage of stuff I’ve accumulated.  From what was at house #1 to what was actually moved to house #2 was reduced significantly through my eyes.  But evidently not enough, because I am now pairing that down even further.  If there is no place for it on a shelf, in a corner, or hidden under the bed, it's off to the ReStore!

But the biggest change is yet to come.  The change that will allow Beth and me to start from our own scratch, as we collect new memories, souvenirs, and photo albums, as change waits around every corner.

Change.  It’s inevitable.  It’s relentless.  It can be a good thing.  Be open to it.  Go with it.  Like the quote says…Be the change you want to see…

My Zen from Our New Home:  Sometimes measuring change is seeing change...

       

 

Why Not.

Beth had to stare this idea in the face about a year ago.  She sold her house, moved into mine, stopped work, took her son to college, and started a new life with me, among other things in a relatively short time.  Why not…rhetorically speaking.  

Well, why not again?

So here we go… Downsizing?  Less maintenance?  A need for more stress?  Call it what you will, but we have decided to leave my residence of the last 25 years and join the townhome life.  No more lawn mowing, snow shoveling, exterior painting, etc…  Like your first jump off a high dive platform, making the move to take the plunge can come in different forms.  Some choose to run off the end and plummet, waving their arms and screaming in self inflicted terror.  For us, we put our toes in to test the water before climbing up the 30-foot ladder.  Then acclimatized to the altitude, while enjoying the views.  And finally, we snuck over to the edge, grabbed each other’s hand, and stepped off the edge into the daunting abyss of real estate.  The forms, the signatures, the walk-thrus, but ultimately the possibilities.

In the meantime, our foray into house sitting has us on our second sit.  Our first in Colorado, was pretty much what we were looking for and hoping for.  Actually more.  We made some good connections and hope to pick up where we left off, next time, trying to fit in and be as much of a “local” as we can, on a temporary basis. 

The couch trio is made of an old deaf
dog, a geriatric cat, and an epileptic
canine.

Previous to our first sit, after being rejected a number of times for other house sitting opportunities we had applied for, we made the connection between having experience and the lack of it.  The more references you have, the more trusting you appear to a prospective homeowner.  This brings us back to sit #2.  In order to add to our reference portfolio, we are close to home, just a few miles outside of a small town on a gravel road.  The air is fresh, the neighbors are more than an arms length away, and the farmland around us is being harvested daily this time of year.  Under our watch, this time, are three dogs, six cats, and an assortment of winged insect-like critters (bugs!) for 10 days.  The last of those creatures are not on the official watch list, but seem to appear as they wish.  Oh, and add an unexpected amphibian to the list.  Beth found a frog on her shirt following the morning feeding routine.  I was notified while still in bed, by a shrill sound I’ve not heard from her before.  So, the two of us, a small band of furry personalities, and a small town for ten days…what’s not to love?

The townhome purchase has begun.  We offered, they countered, we pondered, pondered some more, and accepted the counter.  We signed more papers under the heading of financing than I think I signed grade cards back in the day, but we are on track to own two properties in a short time.  Funny thing is, one property is the limit, so it is on…sell property #1!  While property #2 is proceeding… financing, inspection, appraisal, yada yada yada… we would like to be working towards selling property #1, but while we are house sitting in a location our GPS couldn’t even find, the plan is to plan.  Make lists, estimate costs, collect color samples, bookmarks websites, talk wants, needs, and wishes.  Hurry up and wait.

The cats come and go as they
please. Sometimes the tail wants
to stay in when the body goes out.

All of the animals are very pleasant in their individual ways.  The cats are generally invisible until they need something and the dogs, although more visible, are generally sleeping most of the time in plain sight.  The one common denominator, or should I say two, are pee and poop.  More times than not, we are greeted each day with a present (or three) of puddles and piles.  Haven’t been able to pin it to just the felines or the canines and there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to where or when it happens.  So the Waste Rapid Response Team has gotten pretty good with no shortage of practice.

So, why not.  Not really a question, but a way to look at things, make decisions, and decide what kind of day you are going to have, before you have it.  You don’t have to go out and buy a townhome before selling your current residence, house sit a menagerie of fur bearers, or pursue any number of questionable possibilities before you, but keep the thought nearby…why not.

The beagle is adopted from what must have been a very dark
past. He keeps his distance and is normally not approachable.
During a small miracle, Beth almost gets to pet him before he
takes off for a safer distance.

My Zen from the (Gravel) Road:  House sit #1 brought us hot tub issues. House sit #2 brought us a garbage disposal issue (easily replaced and working, thank you very much!).  When taking on new things, new adventures, expect issues to arise.  Why not?  They are part of it!

BONUS PICS

There is something to be said about a country view.

A Tweak on Traveling

A few years before retiring, I started to investigate the world of house sitting.  Why?  Because that’s what I do.  I dream a little bit, then see how close to reality I can get to it.  Hearing bits and pieces about it on the news and in print peaked my interest and thought that it might be something to check into when the time came.  I Googled house sitting, bookmarked a few sites and then forgot about it.

Well, the time came this past June, I looked into a number of those bookmarked websites that connect those who need a sitter with those that want to be a sitter. Beth and I joined one and have now begun our house sitting experiment to see if it is what we thought it to be.

The process is not so different than how I imagine match.com works, minus the dating and heartbreak.  Well, there is a little of that too.  We pay money to have our want to house sit put out there for those that need a house sitter to view on the website and vice versa.  But this is only after registering and filing out a profile online, not that different than a resume of sorts, selling yourself as a potential house sitter.  Of course this is accompanied by photos, a police check, and possibly a video (we are working up to the video).  In return, each day we receive a listing of “house sits” by email, a smorgasbord of homes around the world.  And each day we sift through the list, picturing ourselves with their pets, exploring the area, and maybe, just maybe, sitting in their hot tub (if there is one).  Having applied for and also turned down for a number of house sits (the “dating and heartbreak”), I began to realize its not as easy as wishing yourself into someone else’s home.

On June 22, we connected with a couple in a mountain town in Colorado, one of our favorite playgrounds, and after a few back and forth emails and a FaceTime interview of sorts (the dating thing again), we had our first house sit lined up!

Fast forward to the present and yesterday we met the homeowners; we’ll call Jack and Jill.  We arrived at their home for lunch before they headed off on their getaway to visit family.  They showed us around their beautiful home, introduced us to their two cats (most house sits involve caring for a pet), and we visited over lunch to get to know one another before they left for Denver and their flight out the next morning.  Jack and Jill, being very active, took their time, sharing their insight on hiking and biking in the area, suggesting mountain lakes to fish, and trail heads that weren’t on the maps…local knowledge…priceless.

As the garage door closed, the weight of this experience settled onto our shoulders.  Not just anyone can walk out of their home and leave it with virtually total strangers and entrust in them all that they own, except what they drove away with in their suitcases.  It’s easy to see how the idea of house sitting is all about trusting relationships.  So kudos to us for making them feel comfortable enough to trust us with their home and kudos to them for feeling confident enough to trust us with their home.

So spending time in one area is my tweak to traveling.  In the past, a limited amount of time urged me to get in as much as I could in the most efficient use of time.  Now, whether through house sitting or not, spending time and blending in is the new modus operandi (that’s right, I used modus operandi in a sentence… correctly!...I think?). 

Now…time to blend in like a local…

My Zen from the Road:  Wants and Needs...  From what was written above, it sounds like I want a hot tub as part of this whole tweak in travel thing.  I don't need it, but it would take some of the rough edges off the day, because blending in as a local is hard work.  Hiking, biking, golfing, fishing, sitting on decking, going to concerts in the park and listening, going to little towns and touristing, resupplying the kitchen shopping, and many other ing's not listing here.  But after a conversation with my sister about sitting in hot water and it's physiological benefits, from plain relaxation to lowering your blood pressure, it sounds like the want may become a need!  Needs and wants...how quickly one becomes the other with a few well placed facts.

No words can describe a want need like this.

Bonus Pics

Every early morning trip departure requires
sustenance.  The one was supplied by Lamars.
Apple Fitter!

The trip across Kansas always provides surprises.

Sentinels of the Sun!

The coolest temperature I'd experienced since last spring at the Eisenhower
Tunnel, but the next morning it was in the upper 30's!

Settling in to the rigors of house sitting!

A favorite in every yard.

One of two cats left in our charge.
Keeping them happy is a full time responsibility.

Keeping the cats away from this guy is important, but this guys was lurking
around the 15th hole, where someone spilled some french fries.

Bingo!

As darkness sets in, I could barely see my drive on the 18th hole,
as it soared into the middle of the fairway,
and the clouds were the last to catch the sun's rays.
Beautimus!

Beginnings and Endings

I woke up today like most other days.  Groggy.  I silently took roll call of my body parts to see if they were all in sync with the idea of getting up…and it was unanimous… all my parts were on board. Yea!  It’s the little things.   After a few bodily stretches, I lifted off the bed, and sought out gym shorts and t-shirt, the official retirement dress code of this guy.

I went through a few of the rooms of the house, opening “it’s eyes” to another day, as the curtains and blinds gave way to the morning light.  Made my way to my Kashi stash and prepared a bowl to wake my innards up.  And while waiting for the appropriate time to let my 2% soften the flakes of goodness, I latched on to my laptop to check Greg’s status on the Tour Divide (see June postings).  I was relieved to see that he did not pedal through the night.

Some 1829 miles to the east of Greg, in Charlotte, NC, my niece, Grace, has already woken (if she slept at all) to a special day, and was in the first moments, of her first professional career day, after graduating from Clemson, a mere 2 months earlier in May.  I was so excited to find all this out from her momma, in an email this morning.  I partake in my family’s lives, even though I’m not there (hope that doesn’t creep anyone out), through emails, texts, sporadic in person contact, and sometimes a vivid imagination.

When I checked Trackleaders.com for Greg’s position this morning, he had a mere 68 miles left before reaching Antelope Wells, NM, the finish line for The Tour Divide, a mere 2,700 miles from the starting line in Banff, Alberta, Canada.  Like many of Greg’s athletic supporters (HaHa), I get online to check his progress multiple times a day.  I partook in his adventure by dropping him off in Banff and then proceeded to will him from waypoint to waypoint with a vivid imagination.  I choose to believe the collective willing of his well-wishers pushed him along at times…knowingly or unknowingly to him at the time.

As Grace starts up her learning curve these first few days, probably not that different than some of the mountain passes Greg ascended along the continental divide over the last 30 days, she may be reliving her last hoorah with her sister last month in Europe, or moving into her dorm room her first year at Clemson, or driving to high school the first time after getting her license in search of her parking spot.  Actually, I’ll bet she is so focused on all that is new to her today, that the other stuff would be lucky to appear in a dream, when she falls dead asleep tonight at 8, with a reality show on and a pizza crust hanging from her lip!

The day that Grace begins one adventure, Greg ends another.  As Grace crosses her starting line, her well-wishers will collectively support her from their vantage point and push her along when the going gets tough and celebrate her summiting those tough peaks along the way.  She is starting a new collection of adult life memories to add to her rich and full body of work she has created so far.  Whereas, Greg will be processing his month of memories on the trail for some time to come.  Probably grateful to be sitting on something wider than a banana for the ride back to Dillon, taking a little more time to feel an embrace with Susi, and better connection between man and dog, when Bailey looks into her daddy’s eyes looking for a good belly rub.  So proud of Grace and Greg, I celebrate your beginnings and endings.

What is ending and beginning for you?  Whatever they might be, welcome your beginnings and hug your endings.  Don’t fight’em, join’em.

One more plug for Greg’s cause to raise money to connect

bicycles with vets dealing with PTSD…

www.gofundme.com/vvuugc

His goal is one dollar for every Tour Divide mile he rode.

He is close, but you can get him closer!