house | Bertram's Blog

More Concrete

August 12, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I recently got a bill for my car insurance along with a letter. The company was all puffed up with their magnanimity because — as they said in the letter — people were driving less, saving them billions of dollars, so were giving the money back to their customers via discounts. Sounds great, right? And sure enough, the bill did show a discount of $30. But a quick perusal of my previous bill showed that they had raised my rates by $40 for a net increase of $10. If rates are based on the company’s costs and payouts, and if people were in fact driving less and hence getting in fewer accidents and costing the company less, how could my base insurance have gone up? Sounds arbitrary to me, and just another of the many ways big companies look out for us and thank us for our patronage.

On a less cynical note, the workers finally were able to get the jackhammer to tear up my old sidewalk in preparation for building a new one without bumps and cracks for me to trip over. (Now these people really do look out for me, paying attention to things that might be hazardous around here for me as I get older, and they don’t brag about their magnanimity, either.)

They’re planning on coming back this afternoon to remove the concrete so that tomorrow they will be able to start building the framework for the new sidewalk and stoop, which brings me closer to being able to use the back door. I am so looking forward to not tracking mud into the house! I’d be tracking in some anyway, but I have an area set up in the enclosed porch by the back door for a mud “room” to help keep from tracking the dirt into the rest of the house. (I remove my shoes when I come inside no matter what door I use, but the bigger mats in the back collect more dirt than the smaller ones in front.)

The guys were worried about me inadvertently walking out the back door and damaging myself on the river of broken concrete, but I assured them I am long out of the habit of using that door. (The step is way too steep for my still-healing knee.) Too bad the broken concrete is so dangerous and impractical, because it has a rather appealing artistry to it.

Still, practicality is more important than artistry, and a new sidewalk will be wonderful. It will certainly be more of a boon than any fake discount, and more concrete.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator

Posted in house, life. Tags: building a new sidewalk, car insurance, concrete, fake discount, jackhammer, saving money on car insurance. 2 Comments »

Just Hanging

August 8, 2020 — Pat Bertram

My first week at work went well. It’s not an onerous job, that’s for sure. Mostly I’m a companion, visiting with the woman and fixing her a snack (when I remember) and answering the phone (when I can figure out how it works). We (me, the woman, and the permanent caregiver) get along, and we’re starting to form our own little tribe or community or family or whatever you want to call such a congenial grouping.

One of the things I like about having a job (besides the income, obviously) is that it gives shape and structure to my days. The thing I like least (which, come to think of it is the only thing I don’t like about having a job) is that it gives shape and structure to my days. I’m not sure how to accommodate this contradiction, but then, I don’t really have to. I’ll just go to work when the time comes, stay home the rest of the time, and don’t think about it either way.

It is odd, though, having an actual weekend. When you work for yourself or take care of a family member or don’t work at all, the days are pretty much all “weekend” days. So this is a treat for me, having a weekend. (Even though it’s really one weekend day and two weekstart days.)

It’s been nice so far — I did a load of laundry, watered my plants, wandered around the yard thinking about where to plant the locust tree I’m starting from a seed, visited with my next-door neighbor and gave her a tour of my garage. I’m not sure what’s so special about the garage, but I love showing it off, and people enjoy seeing it. In fact, another friend just left after stopping by to have a cup of tea and see how the garage turned out.

When I was folding my laundry earlier, it struck me how easy the living is for me right now. There’s no trauma, no real hardship, not even any dreary chores like going to the laundromat. (I’ve never owned a washer and dryer before, and it’s such a blessing!) No one is pushing me to do anything I don’t want to do. No one is fighting with me or calling me names. (Thank you, Facebook, for making it so easy to stay away from the contentious behavior you seem to foment!) Even better, I’m not fighting anything. I’m just hanging here, letting everything be.

Yes, such a good day and a great beginning to my weekend.

Can you guess that today’s tarot card was the hanged man?

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: a great beginning to a weekend, congenial grouping, creating a tribe, job as a companion, the hanged man, the living is easy, what I don't like about working, what I like about working. 2 Comments »

Small Doings

August 5, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I’d just fixed lunch when the mail carrier came with the vinca minor bare root plants that I ordered. Since I knew I wouldn’t want to work once I got home from work, I set my lunch aside and went out to plant. I’d already made a planter out of a tree stump, so all I had to do was stick the plants in the soil. It was easy enough to do. Now I just have to wait to see if the plants will take hold. If so, I’ll have an interesting mound of vegetation. If not, I’ll have the stump removed with the rest of the stumps on the property when the time comes. In this case, I can’t really lose anything except the small amount of cash for the plants.

I was thrilled with my helper. He wasn’t very good at digging or carrying tools, but he kept watch so I could work undisturbed.

Tomorrow, with any luck, my human helpers will be back. They’re going to start tearing out the old sidewalk, ramp, and stoop, and putting in a new one. I’m mostly looking forward to the stoop being finished. The step down from the house is just too steep for me anymore, so I’ve been using the front door, which I don’t really like. One, I don’t want to advertise my comings and goings, and two, I’m not fond of tracking dirt into the house. Even removing my shoes as soon as I get in the door doesn’t help completely. Sometimes I forget something and have to come back in to retrieve it and am too lazy to take off my shoes. And sometimes the dirt gets carried around on my socks no matter what I do.

The dirt here isn’t powdery, but instead is clumpish because of the clay soil, and I so do not like stepping on those clumps with shoeless feet! Soon, though, I’ll be able to use my back door and the mud area I created in my sun room for putting on and taking off shoes. Also, when the pathways are in — to the back gate, around what will be flower beds, and along the sides of the yard to the front gate — I should be able to avoid a lot of mud. Of course, one foolproof way of avoiding mud is never to go outside, but I haven’t been putting all this effort into my yard just to sit inside and look out windows. I suppose there could come such a time, but not now, and hopefully not soon.

Can you tell I really have nothing to say? I used to get annoyed at people who would write of the minutiae of their lives, but here I am. No great wisdom to impart, no great traumas to dissect, no cosmic revelations. Just me and my small doings in my small house in my small town.

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: back stoop, clay soil, creating pathways in my yard, mud room, small town, toad photo, turning a tree stump into a planter, vinca minor. 2 Comments »

Garage Gallery

August 3, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been keeping track of my daily tarot card pick for a month now, and though I don’t see how the cards affect my life, there are certain things that show up again and again, such as sixes, which represent moving away from conflict, light after dark, and harmony. Another frequent card is the ten of weapons, which can mean anything from misfortune on a grand scale to a reminder that we can’t control everything.

Today’s card, the queen of pentacles, is also a frequent card, showing up about once a week. The queen is sensible, hard-working and domesticated; loves the comforts of life and displays splendor of life. She’s kind and affectionate; generous and forgiving, and prone to weight problems. Also, she depends more on her intuitive skills than her intellect.

I was nodding through the whole description. Yep, me. Me. Me. Wait! What? Relies on intuitive skills rather than intellect? I thought it was the other way around, but I suppose if the card is right about all the rest of it, then it’s probably right about that, too. Or not. Who knows? Another meaning of the card is someone who is shrewd and capable, so that seems to contradict the intuitive skills dependence meaning.

And oh, yes — there’s one other thing: the card represents the embodiment of feminine creativity.

I did have to smile at that, considering that I spent the morning decorating my garage, or at least one corner of it. I don’t like clutter, especially on the walls inside my house, because too much stuff makes me feel closed in. Over the years, though, I’ve collected some pictures I liked and painted others, and the garage seems the perfect place for them. I’ll be able to see them occasionally, and won’t get overwhelmed or claustrophobic.

I even put up a frill of a curtain. I wasn’t sure I wanted a curtain, though it would seem to be the epitome of a girl garage, but when I was sorting through things to store, I found a curtain ruffle and a rod that was the perfect size. Apparently, the window wanted a curtain!

Maybe I shouldn’t post the photo of these bits of artwork because, as a blog reader pointed out, posting photos and talking about my possessions might put me at risk for break-ins. Not that I have anything that’s worth anything except maybe my car, but that garage door sure was expensive!

Still, I got a kick out of my garage gallery, and thought you might, too.

***

Posted in culture, house, life. Tags: art in the garage, embodiment of feminine creativity, garage door, intuition skills, queen of pentacles, risk of talking about possessions, tarot. 4 Comments »

A Gardening Success

August 1, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I’m not a great gardener. At least not yet. I am a great learner, so there is a chance that one day I will have a garden showplace. One of my favorite pastimes in the morning before it heats up too much to sit in the sun is to relax on my beautiful bench and dream that garden into being. A plum tree over there. A honeysuckle vine or two behind the gazebo. A hydrangea between those two bushes.

For now, though, I’m grateful for every bush or plant or transplant I can keep alive.

Still, I consider myself a gardening success because I have managed to attract toads! It’s nothing I have done in particular except maybe watering my bushes and staying away from weed-killing chemicals, but I still feel vindicated as a gardener.

Although some people don’t like toads in their gardens, I like the little creatures. Not only do they eat copious insects, but they tickle me the way they turn their backs and wait motionlessly for the big bad human to pass them by. I’m sure they aren’t as pleased as I am. The poor things are probably terrified, but except for a couple of hours a day, they have the yard to themselves. The feral cats might find their way inside at times, but no dogs or other non-climbing creature can disturb the peace.

Mostly, they make themselves scarce, so I seldom see them, and certainly not long enough to take a photo.

I wonder if the toads would like a house? Some do, apparently. I was thinking of ordering a toad house, but while I was debating, the house sold and an alternate seller wanted way more than I thought it was worth. I could make a house, I suppose, but then I’d be getting away from a cute decoration into the whole messing with nature thing. It’s probably best to let the little creatures fend for themselves and count myself lucky they are doing their fending in my yard.

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: great learner, messing with nature, not a great gardener, staying away from weed-killers, successful gardener, toad house, toads in garden. 7 Comments »

New Friends

July 29, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I accidentally made a new friend today. The woman is a friend of a friend, and she’s taking on a full time (as in 24 hours a day, seven days a week) caregiving job, so she’s looking for someone to fill in a few hours a week to give her a break. Anyone who has been in such a position knows that no matter how much you love a person, those breaks are very much needed. The problem, from what I understand, is that there are too few hours to really tempt someone who needs work, and too many hours for those who need just a bit of money because the extra income might jeopardize their main income. Somehow, my name got bandied about. At first, I said no because . . . well, because I’m out of the habit of saying yes, which has been The Bob’s main effect on me.

As I got to thinking about the request, I realized it would be good to have a bit of income to help fund some of my house renewal projects. (I just contracted for a few tons of rocks, both ornamental and practical — some will go around the house and garage to protect the foundations, some will be used to create pathways about my micro estate to make walking safer in my old age, and some will be used for a driveway.)

Even more than that, I don’t see myself going back to the senior center to just hang around once the restrictions are loosened (although I really enjoy being around most of the people I met there, I don’t especially enjoy playing games, which was our main activity), and except for the Art Guild, I don’t see myself continuing with the rest of my volunteer activities. In addition, one of these days, the contractors will be finished with all the projects that we’ve slated, and then what? Total isolation forever? I don’t see that, either.

So I told the caregiver I was willing to take the job. She stopped by today to interview me, and we really hit it off. When she found out this is my forever home, she was delighted because that meant I would always be a friend. She also approved of all that I’m doing to help with accessibility in my old age. And she said she’d be willing to be my caregiver if it ever got to that point. (She’s the second person who has offered her services. I’m not really sure what that says about me. Maybe that I really am as old as I am rather than as old as I think I am?)

One thing that’s really fun about meeting someone from a small town, especially one who has lived here all her life, is that she knows everyone I know. I think she was a bit surprised because apparently, the people I’ve become closet too are among the best the town has to offer. Special people, for sure! And somehow they gravitated toward me. Pulled in by my tractor beam of charm, no doubt. I’m only being halfway facetious with that last comment because it truly is astonishing how many really good friends I’ve made in the short time I’ve been here.

And now I’ve made another.

The final decision about the job isn’t hers, though her recommendation will be given great weight. I still have to meet the woman I will be caring for (visiting with?). And I will need to talk to the daughter. (Though that might not be necessary, because all she has to do is google me or check out this blog, and she’ll know more about me than I even know.)

But I don’t see that they will have a problem with me. I mean, what’s not to like, right? Admittedly, I might sound cold, looking at the job from a practical angle rather than a personal one, but I haven’t met the woman yet, and even if I had, I wouldn’t want to invade her privacy by talking about her. Though I will say, she sounds like an interesting woman, has lived here all her life, and knows (figuratively speaking) where all the bodies are buried. We also have mutual friends, and since I won’t know any of her stories, I’ll be a new audience, so there should be plenty to talk about. And oh! She lives just a couple of blocks away. How perfect is that?

We’ll see what happens this weekend when I meet her. If nothing else, I’ll make another new friend.

***

Posted in home, house, life. Tags: caregiver, forever home, full time caregiver, life in a small town, part-time caregiver, saying no, saying yes. 1 Comment »

Accomplishments

July 28, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I was out pulling weeds, battling grasshoppers, and feeding mosquitoes (albeit unwillingly), when a when a white pickup pulled up to the house. The driver got out and started questioning me about my garage. He looked familiar, so I wasn’t unduly concerned, then it dawned on me — this was the building inspector.

He’d been checking on the garage occasionally, even after all the structural elements were in, which is where I thought his authority stopped, but apparently not. So I showed him the garage. To be honest, even if he was a stranger, I might have shown him the garage anyway — I do like that little building! In fact, I was talking to a friend the other day and when she asked about the garage, I said, “I love my garage.” She laughed and responded, “I bet twenty-five years ago you’d never have been able to imagine yourself saying that.” I had to admit she was right. Even as little as two years ago — or even one — I couldn’t have imagined saying those words let alone meaning them.

Well, that’s not true. I mean, it is true about my fondness for the garage, but I doubt I’d have let a stranger in to see it. Too many felonious fellows around here.

I was amused by the way the inspector studied my fake window. I’m not sure what he thought — that the builders had changed the plans after his last inspection? I told him it was just a decoration, a bit of artwork. He didn’t seem impressed, but he did say that a fake window was one sure way of keeping out thieves. (So see, I’m not the only one who is aware of the way things — tools especially — go missing around here.) He questioned about the electricity since he hadn’t inspected it before the walls went up, but the state had inspected it, and state supersedes county. I didn’t have a printout of the inspection report, but I offered to send him one, but he said he didn’t need to see it.

He also studied the framework of my gazebo. There was a fairly new concrete pad in front of the old garage, and after the garage was torn down, there the pad sat, screaming out for a roof. So I’m obliging. The lumberyard had overestimated the amount of materials for the lumber pack we’d ordered to build the garage so basically, the gazebo is free. Well, except for the labor.

The inspector questioned me about my plans for the gazebo, so I asked if we needed a permit since my understanding was that we didn’t. “Not really,” he said. Whatever that means. Maybe that if he decided we needed a permit we did? He seemed satisfied when I told him the railings were all the walls there would be, and that it just needs a roof. (Apparently, it’s the enclosing of a space that makes it a building rather than simply something that is built.)

He might be back to inspect the gazebo when it’s done, but I don’t see a problem. I’m sure the contractor will make the roof windproof, using the hurricane connectors as he did with the garage. Because, yes, winds up to 90 miles an hour have been clocked around here, and yes, people do lose their roofs. (Rooves? As in hoof/hooves?)

Oh, I almost forgot — he said he was signing off on the garage and would be sending me the signed report.

There are still a few things that need to be finished, such as the gutters fixed, gravel poured in front of the garage to bridge the gap between the alley and the apron, and hangers need to be hung on inside walls for my tools, but apparently, for all practical and official purposes, the garage is done.

P.S. As I was writing this, one of the workers stopped by to move the counters I rambled on about yesterday. They really are too heavy for one person, even a strong person, otherwise he would have already moved them, but my knees are healed enough that I was able to help get them inside the garage. Yay! One more thing accomplished.

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: building inspector, garage, gazebo, hurricane connectors, love my garage, old fashioned counters, windproof roof. 3 Comments »

Rambling

July 27, 2020 — Pat Bertram

It’s raining again, as it has been on and off for the past few days. Usually the rain comes in the evening when it’s barely noticeable, but it started raining this morning just as I set out for a walk, and now it’s pouring. The cloud cover is so heavy that it seems more like twilight rather than barely afternoon.

Can you tell I have nothing to say? I mean, really, what can one say about rain? The moisture is desperately needed in this dangerously desiccated and drought-ridden area, of course, and it’s a nice change of pace from the dry heat we’d been suffering through. And it’s great to see my yard greening up. But other than that, rain is . . . rain.

Shortly after the dark clouds moved in, the local tornado siren went off. A quick look at the clock reminded me this was the weekly test — every Monday at noon, we’re blasted with three minutes of an unspeakable sound. Which led me to question: considering the weather, if a tornado had been in the area, how would we have known? Perhaps they would have let the siren finish its cycle and then started a second cycle as a warning?

Not that it would matter to me — I probably wouldn’t go down the basement. Stairs. Bum knee. Not a pleasant combination at the best of times, though come to think of it, I did manage to creep down those steps the other day to replace the furnace filter. When the contractors come, they would be glad to do such a chore for me, but there are always way more important things for them to do. Such as fixing the stoop outside the back door, putting in a sidewalk from the house to the garage, dragging the old counters into the garage instead of letting them rust and rot in the backyard. (It takes two people — strong people — to move them, and only one has been coming here at a time when anyone does come.)

The counters were in the enclosed porch when I got here, and they put them in the garage so they could redo the porch foundation. Then, when the garage was torn down, they were stored under the carport. And when the carport was finally hauled away, there the counters sat. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but I worry about them out there in all this rain. If nothing else, when the rain stops and the counters dry out, I’ll cover them. Oh, wait. That will guarantee no more rain! Such a dilemma.

It will all work out in the end, I’m sure.

Besides, I did tell the workers the garage was the most important thing, and it is fabulous not having to worry about my car out in inclement weather. (Is that proper English? Out in? It seems contradictory when I look at it.)

It is funny . . . rainy weather. Rain brings humidity, so even though it’s cool, it’s uncomfortable because of the humidity. I know . . . all you people who live in humid climates are looking askance at me (or giving me askance thoughts if there is such a thing) because you often have to suffer uncomfortable humidity levels, but when one is used to single digit humidity, 80% is ridiculously high.

Apparently, since I can’t go out and ramble physically, I’m rambling verbally. At least I’m rambling, right?

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: building a garage, dangerously drought-ridden, out in, rain, rain and humidity, stairs and bum knee, tornado warning. 4 Comments »

Epic Enough

July 23, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I just came back from a mile and a half walk, and I’m as wiped out — or worse — than when I was regularly hiking five miles with a twenty-pound pack. I’m thrilled to be able to walk even that much — knees take forever to heal, and I thought it might be several more months before I walk that far — but it’s not exactly an epic hike.

Actually, that once-upon-a-time dream of through-hiking one of the long epic trails died with my backpacking trip and the realization that I would never be able to carry all that I needed, especially the necessary water in the desert areas. Even if I could ever get back into hiking shape, the house precludes such a journey. Well, the garage does — I spent all my travel money on the garage. And to be honest, although I do still like the idea of being out in the middle of nowhere, I like even better the idea of being in the middle of somewhere — that somewhere being my house, of course.

Now, if I could teleport, that would be a different matter. I recently read a book about a fellow who could teleport, and he could go anywhere as long as it was a place he knew. At first I thought it would be a silly talent because why teleport to somewhere you’ve already been? But then it dawned on me — what a great way to do a long hike! Hike as long as you can, carrying a light day pack with a day’s worth of water and food, as well as extra socks and other emergency supplies, then when you’re finished for the day, you spend a few minutes memorizing the place you ended up, and then go home for the night. After a good meal and a peaceful night at home, you teleport to where you left off and continue hiking.

If you decide you want a night in the wilderness, all you’d have to do is hop home, pick up whatever you need for the night, and then hop back to where you were.

In many ways, this would negate one purpose of doing a through hike on a long trail since you wouldn’t get the life-changing experience of being on your own in the wilderness with no hope of getting out except on your own two feet, but it would answer the even greater purpose of seeing what’s around the next corner.

Not being able to hike, not being able to teleport, before I went for my walk, I poked around the corners of my yard and found this little beauty.

That’s epic enough for me!

***

Posted in house, life. Tags: backpacking trip, bum knee, hiking and teleporting, long trails, middle of nowhere, middle of somewhere, teleporting, through hike. 6 Comments »

From the “Then” to the “Now”

July 21, 2020 — Pat Bertram

Sometimes I worry that when talking about my house I come across as smug or supercilious or boastful rather than grateful and very lucky. So many people have a hard time keeping a roof over their head, especially now when eviction restrictions have been lifted. Even in the best of times, too many people are homeless and luckless, so it’s perhaps crass to write about my wonderful new life in my lovely little house. And yet, it is my life. My blog. My words. And especially — and always — it’s my gratitude to those who helped make it happen.

For so long, I lived on the edge — not homeless because I always had a room to rent or a place to stay, but not secure, either. One friend even made me promise that if I ever became homeless, I would go stay with her, which was truly a generous offer.

Somehow, though, I slipped through a crack, and instead of the worst happening, the best did. It seems odd, but to find a house, I had to move to a place that seemed on the edge of nowhere, and yet, now that I’m here, I’m right in the middle of . . . somewhere.

Even better, it’s exactly where I want to be.

I was talking to a new friend the other day (though after a year, I suppose I don’t need to add the “new” anymore). She mentioned that housing prices were going up around here, which means the crack in the universe that allowed me to find a home — a forever home, not just a room in someone’s house — really was just a crack. I could barely afford this house; anything more would have been prohibitive.

But here I am.

It’s ironic (and mystical) that Jeff’s death ten years ago blew my life apart, and my homeless brother’s death two years ago somehow glued it back together. If nothing else, my brother’s death put into motion all the gears that needed to move to open the crack that allowed me to slip through and into a home of my own. Then there is my father’s contribution. When he died, he left behind the small legacy that allowed me to follow through where the other two pushed me.

(I like the symmetry of the three, but in my case, there is a fourth person who was instrumental to getting me here — the brother who helped with all the logistics and practicalities.)

This scenario seems so mythic and mythological but then perhaps all lives can be seen in mythic and mythological terms if we tell ourselves the right stories.

And that is the story I am telling myself.

I tend to forget that there is another aspect to the story of how I got here — all the long years of pain and loneliness and angst that accompanied me on my journey from the “then” to the “now.” Without all the changes grief brought, I wouldn’t be this homefull person, not at all smug, but rather accepting of my good fortune and almost giddily grateful for the experience.

***