A little gypsy in me...

I have got so many building plans in my head and on various scrap pieces of paper.  Some even on graph paper, like I know what I am doing.  We have had discussions, debates and decisions.  One of those decisions has been, and this is today, let’s do the many small projects first.  Oh, them’s mighty dangerous words, sir. 

I don’t think he knows how many small projects there are…or what I consider small and what he may consider to be small.  But, here’s a few, just to get started: A driveway change, a parking spaces change, a garage, a shed, new porches with overhangs on both the kitchen side and road side of the house, finish landscaping around my bridge and railings for the bridge, and low-voltage landscape lighting.

There is a new project to my ever growing list.  And here it is:

Now, my good friend Carolyn might say here “Hey! I’m the gypsy!” and she’s right, but, I don’t actually want this to GO anywhere.  I just want it in the woods.  I want there to be a desk in there and some opportunity for electricity but I don’t want there to be a toilet or a kitchen.  I don’t want to LIVE in it, for crying out loud. 

I love the idea of a small cottage in our space.  I like the idea of something whimsical.  A fun place to read, or relax, to dream or to plan ~ a get-away without going away.   These small homes can be built on trailer frames and be road worthy, if that’s what you are in to, but, that’s not what I am seeking.  I hear, but haven’t confirmed, that if built on a frame like this it doesn’t require a building permit or can be taxed.  I am checking that out, believe me.

Don’t be surprised if you see this, or something similar, along the way.  It will take some talking but I have lost the gazebo argument, and this is round 2. 

Panic in the snow.

Feeling refreshed after a week in a tropical paradise with some great times, big laughs and good people.  Hubs’ annual business get-away, this year to Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, ended with a big snowstorm and travel bans.  Perfect, I guess.

A few years ago, while driving on an interstate, a big part from the driveshaft of a truck fell into the middle of our driving lane.   There was an attempt to avoid it, but, we hit a corner of this monstrous piece of metal and were relieved we survived the encounter. A few hundred feet later, however, the car was shaking and thumping and we ended with a flat tire, in driving rain, at 70 miles per hour.

Hubs maneuvered to the side of the road where many other vehicles were pulled over after having also encountered the same piece of debris. The fact that there were others didn’t comfort me much as I left the vehicle, umbrella in hand and climbed to the top of the little hillside, away from the traffic.  It was there I felt my first and only panic attack as hubs decided he needed to change the tire on the car, on the driver’s side, as traffic continued to race by. Let’s just say I freaked out.  I broke down, begged him not to go to the side of the car, in the rain.  I cried.  I sobbed…I was outside of myself and my usual demeanor.  I pleaded with him to call emergency service, as for crying out loud, we have road side coverage.  Long story short, he changed the tire and we were on our way within an hour. I remained confused by the anxiety and fears that washed over me for a long time...but, like all memories, that confusion faded and I haven't had a second episode. 

We returned to the airport Saturday afternoon, anticipating a long bus ride home, only to learn there had been a few inches of snow in our area with whiteout conditions.  A travel ban was in effect, a state of emergency in our county and many traffic accidents on the highways. I began to experience the onset of my second panic attack. I tried hard to fight it down, to not let it gain a foothold.  I walked away from scores of people, I adjusted and readjusted my scarf, I checked my bag for my gloves.  Decisions were being made on what to do, how to proceed with the travel arrangements and the transportation of many people to their homes, at least two hours away, through a driving blizzard.  The buses were already on their way after having driven through the area with the worst conditions and were predicted to be two hours late. The news sites we could access on phones, and reaching out to people at home, were full of stories of accidents, injury and in the case of a small child, loss of life. 

I couldn’t do it.  I had an option as our son and daughter-in-law live in Chicago.  My son came to get me, and I am forever grateful.  Hubs needed to stay with the group.  I can’t really explain why, but I could not.   We have all heard the stories where a person misses a flight or train and there was a horrible crash that spared them. I recognize that my decision is not of that fabric…my decision was what was best for me.  The group arrived home a few hours later and my panic, my fear, might seem to be a bit misplaced in the big picture. There’s a part of me that knew the bus would be fine, that they would get home safe.  There was a bigger part of me that was firmly housed in the “what if” and it rooted me, and it held me in that panic.

Snow appetite

Like a lot of the country, I am not particularly a fan of the National Football League or it’s players.  Oh, there are some good ones, I’m sure, but the greed and the gluttony of professional football has caused some of the luster to tarnish for me.  I love high school sports, and I like college sports but the NFL is not something I appreciate. 

However, I like the Super Bowl in some aspects…the commercials are fun, the half time is usually a top notch performance and well, there’s the commercials.  That’s not really enough to make up for the amount of time you need to invest in actually watching the game so you have to have food, friends and family. 

This weekend we were blasted with mega inches of snow which prevented us from plowing out through our drifted shut driveway to a dear nephew’s home to enjoy the game.  We knew pretty early in the day that we would be hunkered down in our tight little house.  Keep in mind this is me, hubs and the little dog. It was a long day.

When there are long, snowy days like yesterday and there’s no chance I’m going anywhere, I do begin to feel slightly trapped.  Hubs paces, and whistles and as much as I love the guy, and I do, a pacing whistler is not a joy when you feel trapped in a small house already.  It was a beautiful snow but it was raw outside. The little dog wanted nothing to do with going out in it either,  probably feeling a little more on edge than usual, considering she couldn’t figure out what all the whistling was for. 

My usual solution to this kind of day is to eat.  I mean, eat whatever I can find to eat.  I practiced quite a lot of restraint but found myself planning what I would eat next ALL day.  I had gathered ingredients to make mini Rueben sandwiches for the party we would not attend so I knew those would be making an appearance.  But, a quick perusal of the fridge also revealed the ingredients for biscuits and gravy, popcorn, cheese and crackers, humus, fruit, vegetables, Girl Scout Cookies, potato soup, beer, wine, bread.  An all-diggity-dang-dong-day eating fest was about to unfold. 

I fought, and somewhat won, and did not empty the pantry and fridge.  I calmed myself down, ate somewhat reasonably and occupied my day with HGTV and house remodeling plans. I did make biscuits and gravy for a nice breakfast and was able to prepare just popcorn for an afternoon snack.  The mini sandwiches appeared at dinner alongside some delicious potato soup.  Cooking smells hung heavy in the closed up house all day and into the night and I cannot wait to open a window!

Snow days are great but I am glad this storm appears to be short lived.  While I don’t think I’ll get out today, hubs was able to drive to work and reported the road crews had done a fantastic job.  In a few days we will leave for our warm weather vacation.  I’ll spend a bit of time today with the handsome twins of HGTV and think paint colors for my bathroom refresh, and put another sketch down on paper to present to hubs when he gets home as to a new kitchen layout.  Nothing can make a man whistle like listening to remodeling ideas and paint colors.