2016 will be off to a good start, with the move to my new home on the 1st. My family has been very generous with their offers of help, and I actually found movers that will work on a holiday, so all is good.
I feel like one of those people that are on a home makeover show - 2 more days until the reveal. There's still work to be done next week, but the house will be livable Friday.
I'm proud of myself. There, I said it. I'm proud that I made it through an incredibly horrid year. I'm proud of the design decisions I made for my new home. I'm proud of the work I've done volunteering for the local animal shelter. And I'm proud of the fact that I continue to do things all by myself.
Not that I haven't had help. Let's start with the bottomless gratitude I have to my brother and sister-in-law, who not only let me live with them for 2 1/2 months, but allowed me to bring two kittens along for the ride. And the countless workers that made my dream home a reality. And the small town bank that financed that dream without a cent down, trusting that I would get the money eventually. My real estate agent in Texas, who doggedly pursued every offer all the way through her pregnancy and childbirth. My big brother who handled all the details of selling my Mom's house, saving us a huge amount of money.
So here's to a new year, a new life, and some peace and quiet in my little house in the woods,
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Monday, December 28, 2015
Fostering Saves Lives
Meet Meep. She is the poster child for why animal fostering is so important.Upper Respiratory Infections (URIs) tend to thrive in shelters. A URI to a healthy adult cat is like a cold; some are worse than others, but rarely fatal. To a kitten, however, a URI is bad news. For Meep it meant losing most of the vision in one eye, and stunted growth. She weighs less than 2 pounds at 7 months of age.
Meep was special to all the workers and volunteers at The Marshmallow Foundation. And when I started volunteering there she won my heart too. Meep is the sloth of the kitten world - she doesn't move very fast, and would prefer to sleep upside down in the crook of someone's arm when possible. I think she's at least part Ragdoll, which accounts for why she goes limp when picked up, although she doesn't have the characteristic blue eyes of a Ragdoll.
I wanted very badly to adopt Meep, but had already pushed the boundaries by adopting Maggie and Leo when still (temporarily) living with my brother and sister-in-law. Would Meep survive until I moved into my forever home? Poor Yunger didn't make it through the latest outbreak of URI, and he was much healthier than Meep to begin with.
Enter Cassi, a full-time employee at The Marshmallow Foundation. Cassi is one of those unsung heroes that you don't hear much about because she prefers it that way. When an animal has to be put down, Cassi is the one holding them until they pass. When Yunger was failing, Cassi was the one that reached out to try and find a rescue group that could help him.
Cassi knew that Meep wouldn't make it if she had to continue living at the shelter. Her immune system was too compromised by endless rounds of antibiotics and illness. The foster families were already full, so Cassi reached out to her mother for help. If Meep were to have a fighting chance, she needed a quiet, safe environment with lots of tender loving care. Cassi's Mom took Meep in with no questions asked, and provided me with regular updates on her progress.
One day while chatting with Cassi, I asked where her Mom lived. Knowing that I probably wouldn't know where it was, Cassi told me it was a gravel road off of Highway 54 just outside of Detroit Lakes. In one of those rare moments of synchronicity, I laughed and said that my new home was on that very same road. Cassi lit up - her Mom and I were neighbors!
I'll be moving in to my new home very soon, and Meep will move in shortly after that. I'll have to retrain her thinking a bit, since she's apparently a Vikings fan, but nobody's perfect.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Thank God 2015 Is Almost Done!
Experts say that some of the most stressful life events include moving and death. In 2015, I moved or will move (I have one more to go) three times. My much loved cat Gracie died. And lets not talk about the trauma over selling my house in Texas, selling my Mom's house, and building a new house from scratch!
My Texas home finally closed, and the money has been transferred to my new mortgage. Mom's house closed Tuesday, but there's a new North Dakota law that says that the buyer gets three days to back out of the deal, so our checks won't be mailed to us until Monday. Some of that money will go to my new mortgage, as well as paying off debt so I can afford the new mortgage payment.
We were shooting for before Christmas to move in to my new house, but that's not going to happen now. Soon after though I hope. I'm hoping this will be the last move of my life.
So two houses sold this year, one house built, and two kittens adopted (so far; another one is in foster care just waiting for me to move into my new house) that bring me great joy. I've started writing a new blog for the local online newspapers, and have been volunteering on average 4 hours a week at the animal shelter. The Wellbutrin I asked for to combat my seasonal depression is working great, and my Christmas shopping is all done.
So here's to 2016 and a new start. Things are definitely looking up for this girl!
My Texas home finally closed, and the money has been transferred to my new mortgage. Mom's house closed Tuesday, but there's a new North Dakota law that says that the buyer gets three days to back out of the deal, so our checks won't be mailed to us until Monday. Some of that money will go to my new mortgage, as well as paying off debt so I can afford the new mortgage payment.
We were shooting for before Christmas to move in to my new house, but that's not going to happen now. Soon after though I hope. I'm hoping this will be the last move of my life.
So two houses sold this year, one house built, and two kittens adopted (so far; another one is in foster care just waiting for me to move into my new house) that bring me great joy. I've started writing a new blog for the local online newspapers, and have been volunteering on average 4 hours a week at the animal shelter. The Wellbutrin I asked for to combat my seasonal depression is working great, and my Christmas shopping is all done.
So here's to 2016 and a new start. Things are definitely looking up for this girl!
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Puppy Mills? Not Here, Right?
Did you know that 2 of the worst puppy mills in the United States are located just outside of Detroit Lakes? Both are licensed and inspected by the USDA, and both have been allowed to operate for years, even though the conditions there have been shown to be unsafe, unclean, and worst of all, cruel. The very animals that are meant to become part of our family are raised like livestock, with no thought for their welfare, only the money made.
So the next time you decide to go to a pet store or shop online for a dog, do some research first. Ask where that dog came from. There are pet stores that don't buy from puppy mills and only have shelter pets; examples include PetSmart in Fargo, or Best Pets in Detroit Lakes.
If you want to help shut down Renner's Kennel and Michelle Sonnenberg's Kennel, a Facebook page has been created with more details.
So this holiday season, adopt, don't shop. Go straight to the rescues or shelters. 4 Luv of Dog or Diamond in the Ruff are local dog rescues to start with. And of course, come to The Marshmallow Foundation to check out the dogs AND cats this holiday season. There's an adoption special for cats until December 31st of $30 for an altered cat and $50 for an un-altered cat, with $20 refunded once you provide proof of spay or neuter.
So the next time you decide to go to a pet store or shop online for a dog, do some research first. Ask where that dog came from. There are pet stores that don't buy from puppy mills and only have shelter pets; examples include PetSmart in Fargo, or Best Pets in Detroit Lakes.
If you want to help shut down Renner's Kennel and Michelle Sonnenberg's Kennel, a Facebook page has been created with more details.
So this holiday season, adopt, don't shop. Go straight to the rescues or shelters. 4 Luv of Dog or Diamond in the Ruff are local dog rescues to start with. And of course, come to The Marshmallow Foundation to check out the dogs AND cats this holiday season. There's an adoption special for cats until December 31st of $30 for an altered cat and $50 for an un-altered cat, with $20 refunded once you provide proof of spay or neuter.
Friday, December 11, 2015
And No Religion Too
John Lennon's song "Imagine" tends to be played after major world events including this years terrorist shootings in Paris.
So imagine for a moment that no religion existed in the world. I define religion not as a belief in God, but belief that one must follow a certain set of rules or beliefs to please God or earn your reward.
So imagine a world where spirituality was individual; one could believe in God or not, Gods and Goddesses or not, and it didn't matter what name we called the creator of the universe. There would be no bible, no Quran, no Torah telling us what to believe. We'd all admit that none of us have the slightest idea how we came to be and what/if there was a life after this one.
And perhaps most importantly, there would be no need to hate others who had a slightly different set of beliefs from you.
When I was a young adult, I learned in school that the Ku Klux Klan originally targeted Jews, blacks and Catholics. As I pondered that on the school bus ride home, I realized that if I had been born just 40 years earlier I might have been subject to cross burnings in my yard or worse. That moment was a defining one for me. Like others brought up in the Catholic faith, I was taught that ours was the one true religion, superior to all others. I never imagined that we would be persecuted simply because our membership dues went to the Catholic church.
What's happening in the world today is nothing new at all. The victims of the persecution just rotate, waiting their turn. The Salem witch trials, the Catholic Inquisition, the Holocaust, the Crusades; all are historical titles given to times in our past where religion inspired torture and mass killings.
If we could get over the fear of death, perhaps religion wouldn't take such a central point in our lives. Because in the end, hate is fear, isn't it? The hate speech in the news these days has nothing to do with facts, but fear. And if we spend our lives in fear, what kind of life is that?
So imagine for a moment that no religion existed in the world. I define religion not as a belief in God, but belief that one must follow a certain set of rules or beliefs to please God or earn your reward.
So imagine a world where spirituality was individual; one could believe in God or not, Gods and Goddesses or not, and it didn't matter what name we called the creator of the universe. There would be no bible, no Quran, no Torah telling us what to believe. We'd all admit that none of us have the slightest idea how we came to be and what/if there was a life after this one.
And perhaps most importantly, there would be no need to hate others who had a slightly different set of beliefs from you.
When I was a young adult, I learned in school that the Ku Klux Klan originally targeted Jews, blacks and Catholics. As I pondered that on the school bus ride home, I realized that if I had been born just 40 years earlier I might have been subject to cross burnings in my yard or worse. That moment was a defining one for me. Like others brought up in the Catholic faith, I was taught that ours was the one true religion, superior to all others. I never imagined that we would be persecuted simply because our membership dues went to the Catholic church.
What's happening in the world today is nothing new at all. The victims of the persecution just rotate, waiting their turn. The Salem witch trials, the Catholic Inquisition, the Holocaust, the Crusades; all are historical titles given to times in our past where religion inspired torture and mass killings.
If we could get over the fear of death, perhaps religion wouldn't take such a central point in our lives. Because in the end, hate is fear, isn't it? The hate speech in the news these days has nothing to do with facts, but fear. And if we spend our lives in fear, what kind of life is that?
Thursday, December 10, 2015
What Does Hemingway Have to Do With It?
You may have heard the term "Hemingway Cat", and even knew that it had something to do with Ernest Hemingway, the famous author.
Ernest Hemingway lived in Key West, Florida, and was given a 6-toed cat by a ship's captain in the 1930's. Cats with extra toes, also known as gypsy cats, were considered lucky by seafaring folk since they were considered superior mousers and kept their balance better on a ship. Cats normally have 5 toes in front, with 4 toes in the back, and when they have more than that they are called "polydactyl". Other nicknames for them include "snowshoe paws", "pancake feet", or "big-foot cats". Hemingway's cat went on to parent many polydactyl cats on his estate, the ancestors of which still live and are cared for there today.
Maggie, a kitten I adopted from The Marshmallow Foundation is polydactly, with six toes on all feet. She's only six months old, and you can see the size of her paw compared to my hand.
So why are they called Hemingway Cats? In my opinion, because it's much easier to say than polydactyl!
Ernest Hemingway lived in Key West, Florida, and was given a 6-toed cat by a ship's captain in the 1930's. Cats with extra toes, also known as gypsy cats, were considered lucky by seafaring folk since they were considered superior mousers and kept their balance better on a ship. Cats normally have 5 toes in front, with 4 toes in the back, and when they have more than that they are called "polydactyl". Other nicknames for them include "snowshoe paws", "pancake feet", or "big-foot cats". Hemingway's cat went on to parent many polydactyl cats on his estate, the ancestors of which still live and are cared for there today.
Maggie, a kitten I adopted from The Marshmallow Foundation is polydactly, with six toes on all feet. She's only six months old, and you can see the size of her paw compared to my hand.
So why are they called Hemingway Cats? In my opinion, because it's much easier to say than polydactyl!
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Nelly and the Six Year Old
Today while volunteering at The Marshmallow Foundation, an animal shelter in Detroit Lakes, I got a phone call from a mother.
"I know our application is still being processed, but we'd still like to come see the cats today if we can. You see, my six year old son lost his cat about a month ago, and said that he wants a cat or kitten. Specifically, he wants a black cat or kitten because he knows that they are harder to adopt."
So I sent a note to the adoption coordinator asking if the application could be expedited, since this family was driving all the way from Mayville. Sure enough, she dropped everything to approve the application, so when the family came in, I happily told them that they could go home with a cat today if they found one that they bonded with.
Two little boys and their older sister came in to the cat room with their parents, and immediately became overwhelmed (in a good way) with the number of cats there. It was in the middle of kennel cleaning, so several were already running around being cats, so the boys were instantly mesmerized. I had a cat in mind that I thought would be a good fit, and introduced them to Nelly. But like, well, kids in a candy store, they wanted to make sure they looked at all of the cats before deciding. So Burbs was in the running for awhile, as were Peanut and Stud. Eventually though, they came back to Nelly, and as of today, Nelly has found her furever home. In the arms of a six year old with the wisdom of the ancients.
"I know our application is still being processed, but we'd still like to come see the cats today if we can. You see, my six year old son lost his cat about a month ago, and said that he wants a cat or kitten. Specifically, he wants a black cat or kitten because he knows that they are harder to adopt."
So I sent a note to the adoption coordinator asking if the application could be expedited, since this family was driving all the way from Mayville. Sure enough, she dropped everything to approve the application, so when the family came in, I happily told them that they could go home with a cat today if they found one that they bonded with.
Two little boys and their older sister came in to the cat room with their parents, and immediately became overwhelmed (in a good way) with the number of cats there. It was in the middle of kennel cleaning, so several were already running around being cats, so the boys were instantly mesmerized. I had a cat in mind that I thought would be a good fit, and introduced them to Nelly. But like, well, kids in a candy store, they wanted to make sure they looked at all of the cats before deciding. So Burbs was in the running for awhile, as were Peanut and Stud. Eventually though, they came back to Nelly, and as of today, Nelly has found her furever home. In the arms of a six year old with the wisdom of the ancients.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
The Cat's Meow
Interesting fact - adult cats don't meow to other cats. They only meow to humans! Tiny kittens, with their "mew", signal to their mother that they want food, but once they leave Mom, they normally won't ever meow again unless a human enters their life. Instead, cats communicate with each other through scent, touch, and noises other than a meow.
So why do they use it with us? Simple answer, because it works! How many cat owners out there will drop everything if they hear their cat meow? We instinctively know that they're calling for us, and we respond by petting, picking them up, feeding them, or with kitty kisses. We humans are well-trained! I also think that because a cat learns to communicate with us, it makes them a lot smarter than we think they are. Remember, cats rule, dogs drool.
The shelter I volunteer at, The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes is having an open house this Saturday, December 5th. Patriot Assistance Dogs (PAD) is co-hosting the event, so even if cats aren't your thing, come by with your pet for pictures with Santa from 10 am until 3 pm. We'll also have calendars available for sale. The calendars themselves, although cute, aren't the cool thing. $30 will buy a raffle ticket with chances to win prizes throughout 2016. Prizes are valued between $50 and more than $500, and if your name is drawn for a prize, your name goes back in for another chance! Prize examples include:
January 1, 2016: Astrostart 721 ($500 value) donated by Webber Family Motors
February 5, 2016: $500 cash, donated by Foltz Trucking
March 22, 2016: $50 Zorbaz gift certificate
May 6, 2016: 2 reserved lawn chair admissions to WE Fest
December 2, 2016: $500 gift certificate to I'll Tile and Stone
Some important rules:
So come see me and the crew this Saturday. If you're interested in adopting a cat or dog, fill out the adoption application on the website and submit for approval first. We take making sure our animals go to a good home seriously, so it takes a few days to get approved. In the meantime, come on in during normal business hours and meet the animals. You may think that you want a specific dog or cat based on their photo and bio, but then find that there just isn't that spark of connection between you. No worries; once you've been approved you can adopt an animal that you truly bond with. Tell 'em The Crazy Cat Lady sent you.
So why do they use it with us? Simple answer, because it works! How many cat owners out there will drop everything if they hear their cat meow? We instinctively know that they're calling for us, and we respond by petting, picking them up, feeding them, or with kitty kisses. We humans are well-trained! I also think that because a cat learns to communicate with us, it makes them a lot smarter than we think they are. Remember, cats rule, dogs drool.
The shelter I volunteer at, The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes is having an open house this Saturday, December 5th. Patriot Assistance Dogs (PAD) is co-hosting the event, so even if cats aren't your thing, come by with your pet for pictures with Santa from 10 am until 3 pm. We'll also have calendars available for sale. The calendars themselves, although cute, aren't the cool thing. $30 will buy a raffle ticket with chances to win prizes throughout 2016. Prizes are valued between $50 and more than $500, and if your name is drawn for a prize, your name goes back in for another chance! Prize examples include:
January 1, 2016: Astrostart 721 ($500 value) donated by Webber Family Motors
February 5, 2016: $500 cash, donated by Foltz Trucking
March 22, 2016: $50 Zorbaz gift certificate
May 6, 2016: 2 reserved lawn chair admissions to WE Fest
December 2, 2016: $500 gift certificate to I'll Tile and Stone
Some important rules:
- You must be over 18 years old to purchase a calendar or win a prize
- Checks or cash only
- Winners will be notified on the date the prize is awarded, when you'll receive instructions on how to claim your prize
So come see me and the crew this Saturday. If you're interested in adopting a cat or dog, fill out the adoption application on the website and submit for approval first. We take making sure our animals go to a good home seriously, so it takes a few days to get approved. In the meantime, come on in during normal business hours and meet the animals. You may think that you want a specific dog or cat based on their photo and bio, but then find that there just isn't that spark of connection between you. No worries; once you've been approved you can adopt an animal that you truly bond with. Tell 'em The Crazy Cat Lady sent you.
Thoughts on Gun Violence
And it's happened again. At least 14 people killed by armed men bent on destruction. Again, there will be cries of "you can't take away my guns" on social media. Lots of memes declaring their compassion for San Bernadino and the victims involved. Tons of political rhetoric around which party is to blame this time.
I have an opinion, surprise, surprise. My opinion? We must do SOMETHING. We must allow Obama to do SOMETHING. Even if it turns out to be the wrong thing, we must take the first step towards ending this nonsense. The same folks decrying Obama's softness on the ISIS situation are the the ones that won't allow him to take action on gun control reform. The same people who claim the problem is mental health treatment are the ones that don't want their taxes to be spent on treatment facilities.
I don't think the entire problem is gun control. I don't. I think it's much more complicated than that. We have raised an entire generation of kids who feel entitled to a trophy when they didn't win. We have allowed them to sit all day in front of violent video games until their world view is skewed.
We have taught them over and over again that not all people are created the same, and not all people will go to heaven. Even I, at my age, remember vividly being told by a Lutheran kid that Catholic's were evil because we "worshipped" Mary. And after moving to Texas, being schooled by a Baptist that the only way to the Kingdom of God was by being saved in a Baptist church. And the old "we love gay people, we just think that they are sinners" line.
We seem to have lost the ability to think on our own. When someone you trust says something, you take it as the truth. And if someone you dislike says something, you immediately discard it as nonsense. So education is another problem. Let's teach our kids how to think, not what to think. And that's not just in school - parents are the biggest influencers. Along with the curriculum, we need to provide a healthy meal every day. We need to teach not only reading and writing, but life skills. When we graduate high school, we should know how to fill out a resume, interview, do taxes, and financially prepare for our future.
So if I were King of the World? I'd abolish all semi-automatic assault rifles in private hands for a start. They belong in the hands of the military or police only. Don't give me the argument that you have 14 rifles for protection - only one can be used at a time. I'd tighten up the process to get a gun so that it was at least as hard as getting your driver's license. Yes, criminals would still have their guns, but guess what - the average criminal isn't the one causing the mass shootings!
I would raise taxes and abolish the loopholes that have allowed the wealthiest to not pay their share. I would use the money to invest in education, and provide a free college education to those that want it as well. Mental health would no longer be the taboo it is now; proper treatment would be available and the people who have been living on the streets would be treated with compassion. Drug treatment would be free. And, I'd make marijuana legal. It's my belief that drug addicts are born addicts, and may never try drugs if they weren't so taboo to begin with.
Does my opinion make me a Democrat? Perhaps. Remember, Lincoln was a Republican; back then the left leaning party was the complete opposite of what it is today. So I don't think it makes me a Democrat - I think it makes me human.
I have an opinion, surprise, surprise. My opinion? We must do SOMETHING. We must allow Obama to do SOMETHING. Even if it turns out to be the wrong thing, we must take the first step towards ending this nonsense. The same folks decrying Obama's softness on the ISIS situation are the the ones that won't allow him to take action on gun control reform. The same people who claim the problem is mental health treatment are the ones that don't want their taxes to be spent on treatment facilities.
I don't think the entire problem is gun control. I don't. I think it's much more complicated than that. We have raised an entire generation of kids who feel entitled to a trophy when they didn't win. We have allowed them to sit all day in front of violent video games until their world view is skewed.
We have taught them over and over again that not all people are created the same, and not all people will go to heaven. Even I, at my age, remember vividly being told by a Lutheran kid that Catholic's were evil because we "worshipped" Mary. And after moving to Texas, being schooled by a Baptist that the only way to the Kingdom of God was by being saved in a Baptist church. And the old "we love gay people, we just think that they are sinners" line.
We seem to have lost the ability to think on our own. When someone you trust says something, you take it as the truth. And if someone you dislike says something, you immediately discard it as nonsense. So education is another problem. Let's teach our kids how to think, not what to think. And that's not just in school - parents are the biggest influencers. Along with the curriculum, we need to provide a healthy meal every day. We need to teach not only reading and writing, but life skills. When we graduate high school, we should know how to fill out a resume, interview, do taxes, and financially prepare for our future.
So if I were King of the World? I'd abolish all semi-automatic assault rifles in private hands for a start. They belong in the hands of the military or police only. Don't give me the argument that you have 14 rifles for protection - only one can be used at a time. I'd tighten up the process to get a gun so that it was at least as hard as getting your driver's license. Yes, criminals would still have their guns, but guess what - the average criminal isn't the one causing the mass shootings!
I would raise taxes and abolish the loopholes that have allowed the wealthiest to not pay their share. I would use the money to invest in education, and provide a free college education to those that want it as well. Mental health would no longer be the taboo it is now; proper treatment would be available and the people who have been living on the streets would be treated with compassion. Drug treatment would be free. And, I'd make marijuana legal. It's my belief that drug addicts are born addicts, and may never try drugs if they weren't so taboo to begin with.
Does my opinion make me a Democrat? Perhaps. Remember, Lincoln was a Republican; back then the left leaning party was the complete opposite of what it is today. So I don't think it makes me a Democrat - I think it makes me human.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
And Here We Go Again
As I write this, there has been a report of another "mass shooting", this time in San Bernadino, California. Here are my thoughts.
Rant over. Tomorrow, back to cats.
- Why aren't we calling these incidents terrorism? If they were, perhaps they'd get more attention and drive a solution. Yes, terrorism has a political motivation. But the shooting at the Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs has all the signs of being politically motivated, and most of the media is still hesitating to call it what it is.
- We have a real problem in this country. What is it that drives human beings to hate enough to kill? Mental illness certainly could be a factor, but there are disturbed people all over the globe and other countries don't seem to have the problem we do. Is it poor parenting, or *gasp*, the lack of gun controls? Before you jump all over me, please note that I'm not stating that gun control is the answer - I'm simply asking the question because I don't know the answer.
- Any time I ask the question about gun control, I start a firestorm of people insisting that the government wants to take their guns away, or violate their rights to bear arms. If you ask me, that kind of response is childish; the equivelent of throwing a tantrum in a crowded supermarket. Falling back on the same old rhetoric just because you saw it on Facebook doesn't do much except raise your blood pressure. How about suggesting a solution? We all know what you think won't solve the problem. What will?
- I've noticed that the same people who claim that the issue is related to the lack of treatment of mental illness are the same people who don't want their tax dollars to pay for it.
Rant over. Tomorrow, back to cats.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
#GivingTuesday is for the Birds (and the Cats, Dogs...)
Today is Giving Tuesday, a new holiday apparently, where we put our money where our mouth is. Last Thursday, Thanksgiving, we gave thanks for all of our blessings. Today, we give thanks and pass it forward.
I'm thankful for Leo and Maggie this morning, both of whom still fit nicely in my lap together, and are helping me with this post. I adopted them both as kittens from The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes after my cat Gracie died at the ripe old age of 20. They have already provided endless hours of laughter, snuggles, and warmth, and I'm sure will continue to do so for many years to come.
If you want to do your part on #GivingTuesday, but don't know who to give to, won't you consider an animal shelter? Right now at Marshmallow, an upper respiratory infection is going around the cat room, which means lots of visits to veterinary clinics and lots of medical bills. Cats Cradle in Fargo is another good option - they take the cats that would otherwise be euthanized and give them the care they need in order to find their "furever" homes.
If you don't want to give cash, there are lots of other ways to give. Smile, an Amazon.com program, allows you to designate a charity of your choice, and every time you shop, a percentage of the money spent is donated to that charity.
Volunteering your time can make an enormous difference, where that time is spent transporting animals, helping keep the kennels clean, or fundraising.
Donating gently used blankets to a shelter means that a dog or cat has a warm comfy bed for the night. Even better, if you have mad knot or crochet skills, make some soft mats out of that stash of yarn you have in the spare room! Mats for Cats will give you some ideas on projects and ways to help.
So today, count your blessings, then count your pennies to see how many you can spare to help. Every bit counts.
I'm thankful for Leo and Maggie this morning, both of whom still fit nicely in my lap together, and are helping me with this post. I adopted them both as kittens from The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes after my cat Gracie died at the ripe old age of 20. They have already provided endless hours of laughter, snuggles, and warmth, and I'm sure will continue to do so for many years to come.
If you want to do your part on #GivingTuesday, but don't know who to give to, won't you consider an animal shelter? Right now at Marshmallow, an upper respiratory infection is going around the cat room, which means lots of visits to veterinary clinics and lots of medical bills. Cats Cradle in Fargo is another good option - they take the cats that would otherwise be euthanized and give them the care they need in order to find their "furever" homes.
If you don't want to give cash, there are lots of other ways to give. Smile, an Amazon.com program, allows you to designate a charity of your choice, and every time you shop, a percentage of the money spent is donated to that charity.
Volunteering your time can make an enormous difference, where that time is spent transporting animals, helping keep the kennels clean, or fundraising.
Donating gently used blankets to a shelter means that a dog or cat has a warm comfy bed for the night. Even better, if you have mad knot or crochet skills, make some soft mats out of that stash of yarn you have in the spare room! Mats for Cats will give you some ideas on projects and ways to help.
So today, count your blessings, then count your pennies to see how many you can spare to help. Every bit counts.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Yes, I'm a Crazy Cat Lady (and Proud of It)
We all know the stereotype - single, middle aged, female with cats. The title of crazy cat lady is not meant to flatter; the emphasis is usually on the adjective "crazy".
I am single, of a certain age, and I do have two cats that I adopted from The Marshmallow Foundation in Detroit Lakes. What makes me crazy is that I volunteer my time at the very same shelter!
Friends tell me that they don't understand how I can do it. "It's so sad", they say.
And sometimes it is. Today was one of those days. Yunger, one of the more affectionate cats, has been sick for several weeks with what was thought to be an upper respiratory infection, which is very common in shelter cats and equivelent to the common cold. He's been to the Vet a couple of times and been treated with antibiotics with no improvement. He has lost a lot of weight, and can no longer stand or sit. Still, when I opened the door to his kennel, he greeted me with a virtually silent meow, and struggled to find his balance long enough to put his paws on my chest to be picked up. I held him several times today, walking around the room petting him, scratching him behind the ears and telling him what a good cat he was. He would push his nose against my cheek telling me that he heard me.
But comforting a dying cat isn't the really sad part. Knowing that if the foundation had more donations, Yunger would be in the hospital right now getting fluids, medication, and the necessary diagnostic tests is the truly tragic story. The wonderful employees and volunteers are even now trying to find transport for Yunger to the Twin Cities, which is the closest veterinary clinic found that would offer no cost or low cost emergency treatment.
Yes, today was a sad day. But knowing that I was there to offer a little kindness to one of God's precious creatures made my decision to volunteer at the animal shelter an easy one.
**Happy Update: Yunger made it to Gregory's Gift of Hope, in New Richmond, WI and is in the arms of caring humans who have the funds to help him. He's not out of the woods, and his vet bill for one night is already $1200. If you'd like to donate, they accept Paypal.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
This is What Happy Looks Like
I caught my brother in an exceptionally good mood Friday night, and told him how much I'd like to bring Filly and Lee home (Meep is in a foster home, and thriving there).
"I don't care", he said. I asked him again, knowing that he was not a fan of cats. And the answer stayed the same. Even though we were in public, my eyes got watery enough for the bartender to ask me if I was okay. I was better than okay.
I didn't realize how lonely I had been since Grace died. Yes, I'm living with my brother and sister-in-law, and we're having a good time reconnecting with each other. But there was something missing.
Yesterday I brought Lee and Filly home. Lee's name has been changed to Leo, although I still call him Lee, and Filly is Abby, although that might be changed to Maggie May. They both have an upper respiratory infection, which means lots of wet sneezes and goopy eyes and noses. They're busy exploring; this morning I found Leo on my brother and sister-in-law's bed, happily climbing on my brother to wake him up. I think a baby gate is in order - nobody likes to be woken up early on a Sunday! I lived with senior cats for so long I've forgotten what it's like to have kittens, with their rambunctious antics like launching themselves through the air in the middle of the night only to land on your head.
Last night when I went to bed, they both followed me, and immediately settled down; Lee at the foot of the bed, and Filly next to my face. She wrapped both paws around my neck, and fell asleep with her face on my cheek. Did I mention that they chose me?
I'm hoping that my house will be move-in ready in 4 weeks. Drywall taping and texturing is , happening, and after that the flooring and cabinets can go in. I picked out my paint colors Friday, and my home will be a riot of color - no bland boring white for me!
And tomorrow is the end of the option period for my house in Texas. They've had it inspected, and so far, no word on more repairs. There's a water leak somewhere; my water bill went from $49 to $206 in a month. My only hope is that it was caused by the sewer repair and they take care of it. But if all goes well, we'll close by December 7th, the day that will indeed live in infamy for me. Sounds like my Mom's house won't close until then either, since the buyer finally admitted that he hadn't contacted the bank until last week (it's been under contract for 2 months).
So my luck is due for some improving in 2016. And I think that the two adorable little purring creatures that entered my life yesterday might be a good way to kick that off.
"I don't care", he said. I asked him again, knowing that he was not a fan of cats. And the answer stayed the same. Even though we were in public, my eyes got watery enough for the bartender to ask me if I was okay. I was better than okay.
I didn't realize how lonely I had been since Grace died. Yes, I'm living with my brother and sister-in-law, and we're having a good time reconnecting with each other. But there was something missing.
Yesterday I brought Lee and Filly home. Lee's name has been changed to Leo, although I still call him Lee, and Filly is Abby, although that might be changed to Maggie May. They both have an upper respiratory infection, which means lots of wet sneezes and goopy eyes and noses. They're busy exploring; this morning I found Leo on my brother and sister-in-law's bed, happily climbing on my brother to wake him up. I think a baby gate is in order - nobody likes to be woken up early on a Sunday! I lived with senior cats for so long I've forgotten what it's like to have kittens, with their rambunctious antics like launching themselves through the air in the middle of the night only to land on your head.
Last night when I went to bed, they both followed me, and immediately settled down; Lee at the foot of the bed, and Filly next to my face. She wrapped both paws around my neck, and fell asleep with her face on my cheek. Did I mention that they chose me?
I'm hoping that my house will be move-in ready in 4 weeks. Drywall taping and texturing is , happening, and after that the flooring and cabinets can go in. I picked out my paint colors Friday, and my home will be a riot of color - no bland boring white for me!
And tomorrow is the end of the option period for my house in Texas. They've had it inspected, and so far, no word on more repairs. There's a water leak somewhere; my water bill went from $49 to $206 in a month. My only hope is that it was caused by the sewer repair and they take care of it. But if all goes well, we'll close by December 7th, the day that will indeed live in infamy for me. Sounds like my Mom's house won't close until then either, since the buyer finally admitted that he hadn't contacted the bank until last week (it's been under contract for 2 months).
So my luck is due for some improving in 2016. And I think that the two adorable little purring creatures that entered my life yesterday might be a good way to kick that off.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Something Bigger Than Me
Anyone who is friends with me on Facebook knows what an incredibly crappy year I've had. Totally first world problems, but nonetheless, I've been a stressball all year. And when Gracie, my cat died, I broke a little. There are pieces of my heart scattered throughout the universe, never to be found again.
Just like I've done when my other beloved cats died, I went to work. Physical labor helps me to not forget exactly, but to focus my grief on something I can control. When Maalea died, I dug a pond in 2 days in the heavy clay Texas soil. With Sydney, it was a garden in Minnesota on land that used to be a gravel pit. And so with Grace I needed to find an outlet too. Enter the animal shelter, with the 50 pound bags of litter, the knee crushing concrete floor, and the insistent meows of 80 cats and kittens wanting to be fed.
I've always known that after my last Texas cat died I'd start over again, with 2 kittens. And unlike all of my previous cats, who chose me by showing up at my doorstep, I thought that this time I'd choose them. After all, getting a kitten is a potential 20 year committment, and I wanted to make sure that I chose a kitten that was beautiful, sweet, and healthy.
And God laughed. I can keep telling myself that I chose them, but the fact of the matter is, Lee, Filly, and Meep chose me. They crawled into my arms and into my heart at the same time. Some people say that our pets will reincarnate and come back to us over and over again. I don't know if that's true, but that broken piece of my heart has a scab on it now, and while it will never completely heal, it's whole enough to love again. Are they beautiful? To me they are, although Meep has a cataract in one eye, Filly has more toes than the average cat, and Lee is just another black cat. Are they sweet? YES! Are they healthy? Not yet. Living in a shelter is hard on a kitten, and all of them have had their issues, from upper respiratory infections to parasites. Who knows what issues they'll have in the future; it's a crapshoot at best.
Now, I'm not so fixated on whether my house in Texas will ever sell (it's under contract for the 4th time), or what paint colors I'll use in my new house. Now I'm impatiently waiting for the day I can take my babies to their forever home. And what I can do to help the overcrowded shelter continue to help homeless cats and dogs. It's bigger than me.
Just like I've done when my other beloved cats died, I went to work. Physical labor helps me to not forget exactly, but to focus my grief on something I can control. When Maalea died, I dug a pond in 2 days in the heavy clay Texas soil. With Sydney, it was a garden in Minnesota on land that used to be a gravel pit. And so with Grace I needed to find an outlet too. Enter the animal shelter, with the 50 pound bags of litter, the knee crushing concrete floor, and the insistent meows of 80 cats and kittens wanting to be fed.
I've always known that after my last Texas cat died I'd start over again, with 2 kittens. And unlike all of my previous cats, who chose me by showing up at my doorstep, I thought that this time I'd choose them. After all, getting a kitten is a potential 20 year committment, and I wanted to make sure that I chose a kitten that was beautiful, sweet, and healthy.
And God laughed. I can keep telling myself that I chose them, but the fact of the matter is, Lee, Filly, and Meep chose me. They crawled into my arms and into my heart at the same time. Some people say that our pets will reincarnate and come back to us over and over again. I don't know if that's true, but that broken piece of my heart has a scab on it now, and while it will never completely heal, it's whole enough to love again. Are they beautiful? To me they are, although Meep has a cataract in one eye, Filly has more toes than the average cat, and Lee is just another black cat. Are they sweet? YES! Are they healthy? Not yet. Living in a shelter is hard on a kitten, and all of them have had their issues, from upper respiratory infections to parasites. Who knows what issues they'll have in the future; it's a crapshoot at best.
Now, I'm not so fixated on whether my house in Texas will ever sell (it's under contract for the 4th time), or what paint colors I'll use in my new house. Now I'm impatiently waiting for the day I can take my babies to their forever home. And what I can do to help the overcrowded shelter continue to help homeless cats and dogs. It's bigger than me.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Pulling Myself Up By My Bootstraps
I am prone to chronic depression; the kind of long-term loss of interest in anything good not necessarily caused by any event. I've been treated for it in the past, and told that likely it would be something I'd have to deal with for the rest of my life.
So I met my new Minnesota doc last week and asked for help. I knew that talk therapy wasn't the answer, but that medication potentially was. Prozac sort of did the job previously, but only sort of. I had already done my research and asked about Wellbutrin, which she agreed was appropriate for me. So I've been on it for 5 days and experiencing some of the side effects like insomnia and dry mouth, which I'm told should go away in a week or two. It also makes me feel a little hyper, like I drank too much coffee. But I guess that's a sign that it's working.
In an effort to try and help myself, I'm trying to be more social and give of myself. I took a painting class last week, and am taking a glass class Saturday.
But the biggest change is my work with the cats at the local pound. Since I was off last week, I got my training on Friday morning, with a complete kennel cleanout. By the time we were done I was exhausted - my legs ached, my knees hurt from kneeling on concrete floors, and I was all sweaty. And I loved it so much I came back the next day. This time, the head volunteer left the room for long spaces at a time, I think perhaps as a bit of a test. I must have passed, because she said I could work Sunday morning if I wanted, this time without her.
The shelter has full-time employees that do the feeding, watering, and cleanout every day. There was only one on Sunday, and if I hadn't been there she would have been responsible for taking care of 72 cats and 15 dogs by herself. With just a little help, she let me loose on the cats. I fed them, cleaned their litter boxes, gave them fresh blankets, gave them water, and let them out to play for awhile. All 72 of them. While cleaning the lower cages I'd often feel a paw grab my hair from above and pull - not my best hair day. And I took time out to cuddle most of the cats and kittens, some as young as 1 week old. By day 3 I was getting to know many of the cats and their personalities. Jack, who recently had 21 teeth pulled. His faithful companion Jingles, who never goes far from Jack. Their owner died and they came to live at the shelter.
Lee, a black kitten that would stand on his back legs with his front on my shoulders when I opened the kennel. And when I'd hold him he'd just purr away, content just to be there. I will probably adopt him if he's still there when my house is ready. Along with Meep, another tiny kitten who is blind in one eye and is cute as can be. The shelter is trying to raise grant money for the surgery to remove the bad eye.
Zephyr, a Bombay cat about a year old, with fur that looks like patent leather. When I'd let him out, he'd follow me around the room. In his kennel, he was very vocal, trying to get my attention.
I came home with my hands covered in scratches, and one on my face as well. And haven't felt that happy in a long time. I'm going back this weekend for more kitty loving, and to see who steals my heart this time.
So I met my new Minnesota doc last week and asked for help. I knew that talk therapy wasn't the answer, but that medication potentially was. Prozac sort of did the job previously, but only sort of. I had already done my research and asked about Wellbutrin, which she agreed was appropriate for me. So I've been on it for 5 days and experiencing some of the side effects like insomnia and dry mouth, which I'm told should go away in a week or two. It also makes me feel a little hyper, like I drank too much coffee. But I guess that's a sign that it's working.
In an effort to try and help myself, I'm trying to be more social and give of myself. I took a painting class last week, and am taking a glass class Saturday.
But the biggest change is my work with the cats at the local pound. Since I was off last week, I got my training on Friday morning, with a complete kennel cleanout. By the time we were done I was exhausted - my legs ached, my knees hurt from kneeling on concrete floors, and I was all sweaty. And I loved it so much I came back the next day. This time, the head volunteer left the room for long spaces at a time, I think perhaps as a bit of a test. I must have passed, because she said I could work Sunday morning if I wanted, this time without her.
The shelter has full-time employees that do the feeding, watering, and cleanout every day. There was only one on Sunday, and if I hadn't been there she would have been responsible for taking care of 72 cats and 15 dogs by herself. With just a little help, she let me loose on the cats. I fed them, cleaned their litter boxes, gave them fresh blankets, gave them water, and let them out to play for awhile. All 72 of them. While cleaning the lower cages I'd often feel a paw grab my hair from above and pull - not my best hair day. And I took time out to cuddle most of the cats and kittens, some as young as 1 week old. By day 3 I was getting to know many of the cats and their personalities. Jack, who recently had 21 teeth pulled. His faithful companion Jingles, who never goes far from Jack. Their owner died and they came to live at the shelter.
Lee, a black kitten that would stand on his back legs with his front on my shoulders when I opened the kennel. And when I'd hold him he'd just purr away, content just to be there. I will probably adopt him if he's still there when my house is ready. Along with Meep, another tiny kitten who is blind in one eye and is cute as can be. The shelter is trying to raise grant money for the surgery to remove the bad eye.
Zephyr, a Bombay cat about a year old, with fur that looks like patent leather. When I'd let him out, he'd follow me around the room. In his kennel, he was very vocal, trying to get my attention.
I came home with my hands covered in scratches, and one on my face as well. And haven't felt that happy in a long time. I'm going back this weekend for more kitty loving, and to see who steals my heart this time.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
The Healing Power of Nature, and Buckaroo Bonzai
I mentioned that I've been extremely stressed this summer, so I took this week off. No plans other than trying to escape one of the stressors on me; my job.
Yesterday I went to Phelps, MN, and visited the historic Phelps Mill on the Ottertail River. Being a Monday in the fall, there weren't a lot of people in the park, and it was nice to listen to the water rushing over the dam for awhile. The drive there and back was beautiful, with the leaves about 50% of their full beauty.
Today I explored Maplewood State Park, including taking a 1/2 mile hike through the woods. The hike not only reminded me what I love about being outside, it reminded me how long it's been since I exercised at all! I made a serious attempt to relax, and was semi-successful. My mind has been on high alert for so long that it's hard to convince it to slow down and enjoy the moment.
I booked a seat at a painting event tomorrow night - I enjoyed the first one I did so much, and concentrating on the brush strokes is almost like meditation for me. The subject of the painting is the lake in Autumn, which is fitting.
And the head volunteer for the local animal shelter finally returned my call. She's the only one with the keys to the cat kingdom there, and I have to be approved directly by her before I can volunteer hours without supervision. So Friday morning I'll be helping to clean out all of the cat cages - all 70 of them. I told her that since I was on vacation this week I could give 40 hours of my time, which she seemed to appreciate, but hasn't followed up on. She mentioned several times that it's a skeleton crew and they can use all the help they can get. She said she'd call someone there and see what other time I could come by, but hasn't called me back to confirm.
I also accepted an invitation for a glass class. I met the instructor this spring, and even bid on her student's artwork (which I won!!). She seemed like a nice lady, raising chickens and goats in a nearby town. So when a new friend invited me to join her for a class, I leaped at the chance. It's not until October 10th though.
October 8th my big brother and I are doing our annual gourmet meal / wine pairing at Spanky's on Rose Lake. It's his turn to pay, which I'll be happy to remind him of!
So I'm trying to put a halt to the pity party here in my head. I heard a couple on the radio talking about "practical enlightenment", and one of the things they said stuck with me. When we bemoan our situation, we need to ask ourselves why. This moment, this situation, is exactly what is supposed to be happening, in fact is what we created. We should look at it as what is, rather than what we wish it would be. It is what it is. And to quote Buckaroo Bonzai, "wherever you go, there you are".
At this moment, I am choosing to be happy. Today was a good day.
Yesterday I went to Phelps, MN, and visited the historic Phelps Mill on the Ottertail River. Being a Monday in the fall, there weren't a lot of people in the park, and it was nice to listen to the water rushing over the dam for awhile. The drive there and back was beautiful, with the leaves about 50% of their full beauty.
Today I explored Maplewood State Park, including taking a 1/2 mile hike through the woods. The hike not only reminded me what I love about being outside, it reminded me how long it's been since I exercised at all! I made a serious attempt to relax, and was semi-successful. My mind has been on high alert for so long that it's hard to convince it to slow down and enjoy the moment.
I booked a seat at a painting event tomorrow night - I enjoyed the first one I did so much, and concentrating on the brush strokes is almost like meditation for me. The subject of the painting is the lake in Autumn, which is fitting.
And the head volunteer for the local animal shelter finally returned my call. She's the only one with the keys to the cat kingdom there, and I have to be approved directly by her before I can volunteer hours without supervision. So Friday morning I'll be helping to clean out all of the cat cages - all 70 of them. I told her that since I was on vacation this week I could give 40 hours of my time, which she seemed to appreciate, but hasn't followed up on. She mentioned several times that it's a skeleton crew and they can use all the help they can get. She said she'd call someone there and see what other time I could come by, but hasn't called me back to confirm.
I also accepted an invitation for a glass class. I met the instructor this spring, and even bid on her student's artwork (which I won!!). She seemed like a nice lady, raising chickens and goats in a nearby town. So when a new friend invited me to join her for a class, I leaped at the chance. It's not until October 10th though.
October 8th my big brother and I are doing our annual gourmet meal / wine pairing at Spanky's on Rose Lake. It's his turn to pay, which I'll be happy to remind him of!
So I'm trying to put a halt to the pity party here in my head. I heard a couple on the radio talking about "practical enlightenment", and one of the things they said stuck with me. When we bemoan our situation, we need to ask ourselves why. This moment, this situation, is exactly what is supposed to be happening, in fact is what we created. We should look at it as what is, rather than what we wish it would be. It is what it is. And to quote Buckaroo Bonzai, "wherever you go, there you are".
At this moment, I am choosing to be happy. Today was a good day.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Excuse Me While I Have a Nervous Breakdown
The list of bad things that have happened to me this summer is long. I have been stretched to the limit of what I can take in stress and pain. I moved from Texas to Minnesota. My house in Texas hasn't sold. I had to cough up 20 grand to fix the sewer in said Texas house. My new house won't be ready until late winter, meaning that I have to live with my brother until then. My cat died. And today, and old friend also died. And that's just a partial list.
I vaccilate between wanting to throw myself on the floor, kick my feet, and have a proper tantrum to curling up in the corner and weeping my eyes out. Today I said out loud "this isn't fair, God."
This isn't fair. My life is supposed to filled with blue birds and cotton candy. My life is supposed to happy, damn it.
I'm the one that points at people who are constantly negative and says "they're just drawing more bad stuff to them". I'm the one that wakes up every morning and whispers "thank you God for this day". And goes to sleep every night saying the same thing. I try to find the gratitude in the little things, like the smell of chives on my fingers tonight after harvesting what is probably the last batch of the year. Or the feel of the wind in my hair yesterday as my brother and sister-in-law explored my new country neighborhood. So why is this crap all happening to me?
I could have taken the safe path, I guess, and stayed in Texas. My housing woes would be non-existent, since I probably lived with that broken sewer the whole 19 years I had the house. I wouldn't have the stress of building a new house, with the myriad of decisions I have to make. I wouldn't have the very real possibility of two mortgages staring me in the face right now.
But, just like every other human out there, I look to the future and only see the good things. My beautiful new home in the woods on a quiet winter's evening, with the fireplace going and supper on the stove. Watching the deer graze in my backyard, bringing their little ones by just to visit. My chickens happily clucking around my feet when I come out in the morning to greet them. Long walks in the woods...my woods. Seeing my family for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Super Bowl Sunday, and for no other reason than I want to spend time with them.
So yes, I'm a giant stressball at the moment. And no, I don't regret a thing.
I vaccilate between wanting to throw myself on the floor, kick my feet, and have a proper tantrum to curling up in the corner and weeping my eyes out. Today I said out loud "this isn't fair, God."
This isn't fair. My life is supposed to filled with blue birds and cotton candy. My life is supposed to happy, damn it.
I'm the one that points at people who are constantly negative and says "they're just drawing more bad stuff to them". I'm the one that wakes up every morning and whispers "thank you God for this day". And goes to sleep every night saying the same thing. I try to find the gratitude in the little things, like the smell of chives on my fingers tonight after harvesting what is probably the last batch of the year. Or the feel of the wind in my hair yesterday as my brother and sister-in-law explored my new country neighborhood. So why is this crap all happening to me?
I could have taken the safe path, I guess, and stayed in Texas. My housing woes would be non-existent, since I probably lived with that broken sewer the whole 19 years I had the house. I wouldn't have the stress of building a new house, with the myriad of decisions I have to make. I wouldn't have the very real possibility of two mortgages staring me in the face right now.
But, just like every other human out there, I look to the future and only see the good things. My beautiful new home in the woods on a quiet winter's evening, with the fireplace going and supper on the stove. Watching the deer graze in my backyard, bringing their little ones by just to visit. My chickens happily clucking around my feet when I come out in the morning to greet them. Long walks in the woods...my woods. Seeing my family for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Super Bowl Sunday, and for no other reason than I want to spend time with them.
So yes, I'm a giant stressball at the moment. And no, I don't regret a thing.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Unconditional
unconditional
(ˌʌnkənˈdɪʃənəl)ˌunconˈditionally adv ˌunconˈditionalness ˌunconˌditionˈality n
When I read the news or look at social media, I see a lot of very strong opinions that don't necessarily match mine. And that's okay - in order to have an opinion, one should look at both sides of the issue. So I remain friends with conservatives and liberals alike, knowing that they probably fume at some of the drivel I put out there too.
Here's my view on life, religion, politics, and everything else. Unconditional.
For religion, it's unconditional love, the way Jesus taught. I don't put conditions on your sexual orientation, your gender orientation, the color of your skin, how much money you make, where you live, or even your species. If God created it, it is good. Other than maybe the Unitarian Universalist church, I don't think a church exists that doesn't have conditions on acceptance. So I don't belong to a church, because giving a church money that preaches against so-called sins like homosexuality is repugnant to me.
For politics, it's unconditional acceptance. If the candidate I didn't vote for is in office, I'm not going to post negative memes about their nationality, their religion, or their record. If they do good, however, you'll see that from me.
And for everything else, it's unconditional surrender. Surrender to what is, and not what you wish it would be. Strive to make everything better, but don't spend your life thinking about what was or might have been if only.
Now for my opinion.
There is WAY too much on social media and the news about stupid stuff like Kim Davis and not enough about the plight of the Syrian refugees, or the American education system, or poverty solutions.
Now, if you don't like cats I may have to unfriend you.
Monday, September 14, 2015
A Year of Transitions
This summer will likely go down as one of the most stressful of my life. Packing up everything and moving from Texas to Minnesota, trying to sell my house in Texas, selling Mom's house, sewer replacement, new house build...it goes on and on.
And now my last living reminder of my Texas home is gone too with Gracie departing this world Saturday. I haven't been without at least one cat since 1991, when Sydney and Maalea entered my life.
Yesterday I started packing up Grace's stuff - some goes to the landfill, most goes to the storage unit for the next lucky kitten to enter my life. Gone are the litterboxes. Gone is the saline solution I used to have to give Grace to stave off her kidney disease. Saved are the steps to the bed, the cat cave that Grace never once used, and the play toy that she used a couple of times.
'Cuz you know there will be at least one new cat. But not for a few months yet, since I will be living temporarily with family until my house is done.
Bedtime is the hardest, followed by early morning. Grace would sleep usually next to my ear, where I could roll over and bury my face in her soft fur. Sometimes she'd reach out for me with one paw, bringing my hand to her. And in the mornings she'd be so happy to see me that no matter how well I slept the night before or what faced me during the day, I'd have to smile.
This morning I smiled too. I smiled because I remembered something special about each of the Texas cats that spent time with me. Sydney the original, who mellowed from a hyper kitty to a sage old man (he lived to be almost 20). Maalea, my sweet affectionate girl, the twin to Sydney, who died just before Grace moved in. I sometimes think that Maalea's spirit lived in Grace; I called her Gracie Maalea for that reason.
Blue Bell Cappuccino Chocolate Chunk (shortened to Blue); the baby born in my arms while I was sleeping with Grace. His favorite sport was licking my beer bottle every time I took a sip (and for you germaphobes out there - I was fine).
Scottie Sunshine, my long haired tuxedo cat, also born to Grace, who would be the first to greet me at the door with his tail held high. When I had a cat tree in the bedroom, he'd use it dive bomb me in the middle of the night.
Little Mouse, my gray cat, who never got above 4 pounds soaking wet, and lived most of her life under the bed. If mental illness exists for cats, she had it.
Sammy, probably my most affectionate cat, was a tabby born with one eye stuck shut with some sort of infection. I spent the rest of his life wiping the corner of that eye out. Sam and Grace spent a few years as my onlys, and so made the trek to Minnesota in the summer with me. After I fed them in the morning, they would both crawl in my lap while I worked at my desk, purring contentately. Sam would crawl into the space between my chest and arm at night, hugging me at the same time I was hugging him.
And of course Gracie, who I still hear sometimes during the day, chirping peacefully at my side, I feel the spirits of all my friends gathered around me when I think of them. And if they choose to, I believe that they can come back to me. Just like Maalea did with Grace.
And now my last living reminder of my Texas home is gone too with Gracie departing this world Saturday. I haven't been without at least one cat since 1991, when Sydney and Maalea entered my life.
Yesterday I started packing up Grace's stuff - some goes to the landfill, most goes to the storage unit for the next lucky kitten to enter my life. Gone are the litterboxes. Gone is the saline solution I used to have to give Grace to stave off her kidney disease. Saved are the steps to the bed, the cat cave that Grace never once used, and the play toy that she used a couple of times.
'Cuz you know there will be at least one new cat. But not for a few months yet, since I will be living temporarily with family until my house is done.
Bedtime is the hardest, followed by early morning. Grace would sleep usually next to my ear, where I could roll over and bury my face in her soft fur. Sometimes she'd reach out for me with one paw, bringing my hand to her. And in the mornings she'd be so happy to see me that no matter how well I slept the night before or what faced me during the day, I'd have to smile.
This morning I smiled too. I smiled because I remembered something special about each of the Texas cats that spent time with me. Sydney the original, who mellowed from a hyper kitty to a sage old man (he lived to be almost 20). Maalea, my sweet affectionate girl, the twin to Sydney, who died just before Grace moved in. I sometimes think that Maalea's spirit lived in Grace; I called her Gracie Maalea for that reason.
Blue Bell Cappuccino Chocolate Chunk (shortened to Blue); the baby born in my arms while I was sleeping with Grace. His favorite sport was licking my beer bottle every time I took a sip (and for you germaphobes out there - I was fine).
Scottie Sunshine, my long haired tuxedo cat, also born to Grace, who would be the first to greet me at the door with his tail held high. When I had a cat tree in the bedroom, he'd use it dive bomb me in the middle of the night.
Little Mouse, my gray cat, who never got above 4 pounds soaking wet, and lived most of her life under the bed. If mental illness exists for cats, she had it.
Sammy, probably my most affectionate cat, was a tabby born with one eye stuck shut with some sort of infection. I spent the rest of his life wiping the corner of that eye out. Sam and Grace spent a few years as my onlys, and so made the trek to Minnesota in the summer with me. After I fed them in the morning, they would both crawl in my lap while I worked at my desk, purring contentately. Sam would crawl into the space between my chest and arm at night, hugging me at the same time I was hugging him.
And of course Gracie, who I still hear sometimes during the day, chirping peacefully at my side, I feel the spirits of all my friends gathered around me when I think of them. And if they choose to, I believe that they can come back to me. Just like Maalea did with Grace.
 |
| Sydney |
 |
| Blue |
 |
| Grace and Sydney |
 |
| The elusive Mouse |
 |
| Sam |
 |
| Scottie Sunshine |
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| My sweet Maalea |
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Grace
Nineteen years ago, I fed a feral cat I named Missy, who one day brought her litter to my porch to be fed along with her. They were so cute, those little bundles of fur! The black kitten I named Blackie, having no idea if it was a girl or a boy.
After a couple of days of this, I opened my front door and went back inside. Blackie the kitten followed me in and made herself at home. Thinking it was a fluke, I put her back outside. Next night, she followed me in again, this time crawling up on the couch where I lay and settling herself on my chest.
I had just seen my cat Maalea (also black) to the rainbow bridge with cancer, so I guess I saw this as a sign that "Blackie" was meant to be mine. Now that I could handle the kitten, I found that Blackie was a girl, and thought about a new name for her.
"Grace", I thought. As in Grace of God. I looked upon her as a gift, brought to me while I was still grieving Maalea.
I made an appointment at the local vet to have Grace fixed, and kept her inside from then on.
A last minute trip to El Salvador meant a cancelled vet appointment. Fast forward to May 1, 1998.
Grace was laying in my arms sleeping in bed with me, when she woke me with what almost felt like seizures. I thought she was having a nightmare, and petted her, trying to soothe her back to sleep. Finally I got up and turned the lights on, thinking that she was ill. She wasn't ill. She had just given birth to the first of 4 kittens. My little kitten was a Mama!
Anyway, I've told that story before - all of her kittens passed on before she did, but my house was full of life for many years. My little gift from God herself never got above 5 pounds, looking like a kitten most of her life. Her kids towered above her, but she ruled the roost!
Grace was a hugger. At sunrise every morning she'd stand up from where she had been sleeping (usually on my pillow), stretch, and then get my attention by walking back and forth across my face. When I would crack open an eyelid and look at her, she'd look right back and be beside herself with joy to see me. Yes, joy. You've seen a dog so excited it runs in circles? Well, Grace was similar, but of course expressed herself with much more refinement than a dog.
It was hard to wake up cranky when she was so happy to see me every morning. Our morning ritual was for me to feed her, put the coffee on, and go to my computer to start catching up on the day. It never mattered how much she had eaten of her breakfast, she would follow me and climb into my lap for her hugs and kisses, and only then go back and finish her breakfast. I called it her adorment time.
Over the years, she's had her share of medical problems...getting old sucks! But she never lost her joy at seeing me, and always wanted her adorment time. The petting she loved; the kisses she tolerated. I told her that she couldn't leave me until I had given her a billion trillion kisses.
This morning I gave her her billionth trillionth and one kiss. Her poor little body just shut down and she died just before sunrise at the Vet's clinic. The Vet Tech brought her body to me for one last adorment and one last kiss. I love you Gracie Girl. Until we meet again.
After a couple of days of this, I opened my front door and went back inside. Blackie the kitten followed me in and made herself at home. Thinking it was a fluke, I put her back outside. Next night, she followed me in again, this time crawling up on the couch where I lay and settling herself on my chest.
I had just seen my cat Maalea (also black) to the rainbow bridge with cancer, so I guess I saw this as a sign that "Blackie" was meant to be mine. Now that I could handle the kitten, I found that Blackie was a girl, and thought about a new name for her.
"Grace", I thought. As in Grace of God. I looked upon her as a gift, brought to me while I was still grieving Maalea.
I made an appointment at the local vet to have Grace fixed, and kept her inside from then on.
A last minute trip to El Salvador meant a cancelled vet appointment. Fast forward to May 1, 1998.
Grace was laying in my arms sleeping in bed with me, when she woke me with what almost felt like seizures. I thought she was having a nightmare, and petted her, trying to soothe her back to sleep. Finally I got up and turned the lights on, thinking that she was ill. She wasn't ill. She had just given birth to the first of 4 kittens. My little kitten was a Mama!
Anyway, I've told that story before - all of her kittens passed on before she did, but my house was full of life for many years. My little gift from God herself never got above 5 pounds, looking like a kitten most of her life. Her kids towered above her, but she ruled the roost!
Grace was a hugger. At sunrise every morning she'd stand up from where she had been sleeping (usually on my pillow), stretch, and then get my attention by walking back and forth across my face. When I would crack open an eyelid and look at her, she'd look right back and be beside herself with joy to see me. Yes, joy. You've seen a dog so excited it runs in circles? Well, Grace was similar, but of course expressed herself with much more refinement than a dog.
It was hard to wake up cranky when she was so happy to see me every morning. Our morning ritual was for me to feed her, put the coffee on, and go to my computer to start catching up on the day. It never mattered how much she had eaten of her breakfast, she would follow me and climb into my lap for her hugs and kisses, and only then go back and finish her breakfast. I called it her adorment time.
Over the years, she's had her share of medical problems...getting old sucks! But she never lost her joy at seeing me, and always wanted her adorment time. The petting she loved; the kisses she tolerated. I told her that she couldn't leave me until I had given her a billion trillion kisses.
This morning I gave her her billionth trillionth and one kiss. Her poor little body just shut down and she died just before sunrise at the Vet's clinic. The Vet Tech brought her body to me for one last adorment and one last kiss. I love you Gracie Girl. Until we meet again.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
This is War!
I mentioned that the agent of the buyers of my house in Texas is their mother, right? She's sticking her nose in my business all over the place! She has called the plumber, hysterical, and said that she won't allow her kids to close without her, and she's leaving town for a week on August 28th.
The sewer line replacement should be done by...August 28th. So if they won't close by August 31st, they'll be in breach of contract unless I give them an extension. Guess what sister...no extension shall be given. My agent called to remind her of that, and she's still insistent.
So they may be in breach of contract and the deal will be off. The bad news is that I'll have to pay 2 mortgages until I can sell it again. The good news is perhaps then I can recoup some of my money. Maybe.
The drama just goes on and on.
The sewer line replacement should be done by...August 28th. So if they won't close by August 31st, they'll be in breach of contract unless I give them an extension. Guess what sister...no extension shall be given. My agent called to remind her of that, and she's still insistent.
So they may be in breach of contract and the deal will be off. The bad news is that I'll have to pay 2 mortgages until I can sell it again. The good news is perhaps then I can recoup some of my money. Maybe.
The drama just goes on and on.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
I'd Like to Wake Up Now Please
So the third estimate is in on my sewer replacement. $17,600 is the lowest bid, but they still have to look at the property. And I don't have the price of a used car laying around, so now what?
I've asked that the price be taken off the price of the home, but the buyer ain't going for it. They want the work done and certified before they'll sign on the dotted line. I've asked the plumbing company if they can do the work then take the cost out of the house sale proceeds (assuming we still have a deal), but he's not so sure his manager will go for it.
And what if I somehow come up with the money and fix it and the buyer backs out anyway? What then?
A friend on Facebook suggested that Go Fund Me might work. I was kind of hoping that he would start it, but today I decided to do it myself. I want to weep from embarassement, but there it is - I need help.
My biggest fear is that no one will fund me. Not because of the money but because deep down I'm afraid that I'm not loveable enough to help. Yep, my insecurities are running rampant. I'm so used to doing everything myself and never asking for help. Part of that is the North Dakota stoicism I was raised with, part of it is from just being on my own for ever.
But it's out there now, and on Facebook, and on Twitter. I did it - I asked for help. Don't judge.
I've asked that the price be taken off the price of the home, but the buyer ain't going for it. They want the work done and certified before they'll sign on the dotted line. I've asked the plumbing company if they can do the work then take the cost out of the house sale proceeds (assuming we still have a deal), but he's not so sure his manager will go for it.
And what if I somehow come up with the money and fix it and the buyer backs out anyway? What then?
A friend on Facebook suggested that Go Fund Me might work. I was kind of hoping that he would start it, but today I decided to do it myself. I want to weep from embarassement, but there it is - I need help.
My biggest fear is that no one will fund me. Not because of the money but because deep down I'm afraid that I'm not loveable enough to help. Yep, my insecurities are running rampant. I'm so used to doing everything myself and never asking for help. Part of that is the North Dakota stoicism I was raised with, part of it is from just being on my own for ever.
But it's out there now, and on Facebook, and on Twitter. I did it - I asked for help. Don't judge.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
I Want To Throw Up
I closed on my house in Texas. Or thought I did. Right after I signed the papers I got an email from my realtor saying that the foundation repair people detected a sewer problem that had to be fixed before they would provide the warranty.
Today, a plumber scoped the line and found a crack in the pipe smack dab in the middle of the house, plus massive tree roots in the line in the yard. To fix it (which I have to do in order to sell this god-awful, money pit, soul sucking monstrosity), will cost me $22,000. No, that's not a misprint. $22k.
Of course I'm getting another opinion, but right now I want to curl up in a ball in a corner and suck my thumb. Right after I throw up.
Today, a plumber scoped the line and found a crack in the pipe smack dab in the middle of the house, plus massive tree roots in the line in the yard. To fix it (which I have to do in order to sell this god-awful, money pit, soul sucking monstrosity), will cost me $22,000. No, that's not a misprint. $22k.
Of course I'm getting another opinion, but right now I want to curl up in a ball in a corner and suck my thumb. Right after I throw up.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
It's Getting REAL
My house in Texas is still under contract - yahoo! Now the foundation repair people are ready to go in and fix the foundation there. The costs for that will be taken out of my closing proceeds, so I guess it's not that big of a deal. The closing date is unusually far out - August 31; my realtor assures me that they're doing all possible to speed it along and close sooner. Tomorrow would be nice.
And, drum roll...I close on my construction loan Friday morning! A few days after that, my contractor will get the first part of the money, and ground breaking can begin.
The estate sale for my Mom's house is scheduled for August 8-9, and after that we'll get it deep cleaned and on the market.
My stress level this summer has been through the roof (work has been very challenging of late too). I can feel the tension in my jaw and in my shoulders; I have to conciously force myself to unclench at times.
But here's to my new life in Minnesota - I finally am about to realize my dream of a house in the woods...with chickens.
And, drum roll...I close on my construction loan Friday morning! A few days after that, my contractor will get the first part of the money, and ground breaking can begin.
The estate sale for my Mom's house is scheduled for August 8-9, and after that we'll get it deep cleaned and on the market.
My stress level this summer has been through the roof (work has been very challenging of late too). I can feel the tension in my jaw and in my shoulders; I have to conciously force myself to unclench at times.
But here's to my new life in Minnesota - I finally am about to realize my dream of a house in the woods...with chickens.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Rolling Along
My Texas house is under contract for the third time. I'll know Friday (the end of the option period) if this time might be the charm.
And I own a lovely 5 acres of woods. Yes, I closed on that property, and we're just waiting on the appraisal for the construction loan to be approved. My contractor texted me yesterday that he had just gotten off the phone with the appraiser, so I'm hopeful that construction should be able to start soon!
In addition to my Texas house, my siblings and I are going to sell my Mom's house now that my stepfather has moved into assisted living. First step is the estate sale, which is scheduled for August 8-9.
This has been a summer that will go down in history as one of the most exciting, challenging, and stressful ever. And it's not over yet!
And I own a lovely 5 acres of woods. Yes, I closed on that property, and we're just waiting on the appraisal for the construction loan to be approved. My contractor texted me yesterday that he had just gotten off the phone with the appraiser, so I'm hopeful that construction should be able to start soon!
In addition to my Texas house, my siblings and I are going to sell my Mom's house now that my stepfather has moved into assisted living. First step is the estate sale, which is scheduled for August 8-9.
This has been a summer that will go down in history as one of the most exciting, challenging, and stressful ever. And it's not over yet!
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Lovely Thunder
Yesterday was the postcard perfect day here in lake country - sunny, warm, with a little breeze to cool you down. One of those days you save in your memory banks for the dreary winter days to come.
Today, it's raining, and that's perfect too. The thunder is that gentle, off-in-the-distance kind that doesn't scare the bejeezus out of you, and isn't accompanied by bright flashes of lightning. It's the kind of day made for baking frittatas (spinach, bacon, cheese in the oven) and doing nothing much. The air smells sweet, and my garden appreciates the moisture as much as I do.
Grace the cat is happy, laying on her bed with her eyes half-lidded and her chin on the edge of the chair. She got some catnip earlier, which made her alternate between rolling in the stuff and climbing into my lap to thank me. I think she loves Minnesota as much as I do.
On the home selling/building front, I close on my 5 acres of woods next Friday. Finally, something is going right. My house in Texas has been under contract twice now, and both have fallen through. It doesn't look like building is going to start until close to August, so I'm starting to wonder where I'm going to live over the winter if my house isn't ready for occupancy by the time the snow flies.
But all of that is just noise in the background, while I listen to the rain and the lovely thunder. That frittata is gonna taste even better today!
Today, it's raining, and that's perfect too. The thunder is that gentle, off-in-the-distance kind that doesn't scare the bejeezus out of you, and isn't accompanied by bright flashes of lightning. It's the kind of day made for baking frittatas (spinach, bacon, cheese in the oven) and doing nothing much. The air smells sweet, and my garden appreciates the moisture as much as I do.
Grace the cat is happy, laying on her bed with her eyes half-lidded and her chin on the edge of the chair. She got some catnip earlier, which made her alternate between rolling in the stuff and climbing into my lap to thank me. I think she loves Minnesota as much as I do.
On the home selling/building front, I close on my 5 acres of woods next Friday. Finally, something is going right. My house in Texas has been under contract twice now, and both have fallen through. It doesn't look like building is going to start until close to August, so I'm starting to wonder where I'm going to live over the winter if my house isn't ready for occupancy by the time the snow flies.
But all of that is just noise in the background, while I listen to the rain and the lovely thunder. That frittata is gonna taste even better today!
Monday, June 1, 2015
Strange Courting Rituals
In my quest to build a house, I've worked with many people, including a very nice young lady at the tile and flooring place here in town. My second visit there, she asked if I was married - I said "no, never have been; no kids". She asked if I might be interested in going on a blind date with her father-in-law then?
I'm trying to adapt to my new home and get to know as many people as possible in the community, so I said "sure, why not".
Later that day she called to ask me if she could give him my phone number, which I agreed to. That very night he called, much to the amusement of my family members sitting in the kitchen taking my turns at the board game while I chatted with him. He promised to call another day to set up a dinner date.
This afternoon he called again. This region has a very strange courting/mating ritual that I am unfamilar with. I'm used to meeting someone for coffee/a drink/dinner at a neutral place, or meeting with mutual friends. But this guy? He has extra sunfish that he caught that he wants me to have, and wants to come by my camper to deliver them.
So is it a courting ritual to give a girl a fish on the first date? Is this a Minnesota thing? I'm so confused!
I'm trying to adapt to my new home and get to know as many people as possible in the community, so I said "sure, why not".
Later that day she called to ask me if she could give him my phone number, which I agreed to. That very night he called, much to the amusement of my family members sitting in the kitchen taking my turns at the board game while I chatted with him. He promised to call another day to set up a dinner date.
This afternoon he called again. This region has a very strange courting/mating ritual that I am unfamilar with. I'm used to meeting someone for coffee/a drink/dinner at a neutral place, or meeting with mutual friends. But this guy? He has extra sunfish that he caught that he wants me to have, and wants to come by my camper to deliver them.
So is it a courting ritual to give a girl a fish on the first date? Is this a Minnesota thing? I'm so confused!
Friday, May 29, 2015
Champagne Taste, Beer Budget
I have definite visions in mind most of the time when it comes to design. I know that I don't want a cookie cutter builder grade house, nice as that might be. I'm going to be paying for my vision the rest of my life it appears. But, considering that this is my "forever" home, that's okay with me.
I went back to thedating site tile and flooring store this morning to pick out fireplace surround for the bedroom side of the fireplace, and the design consultant, who loves my vision, asked if she could set me up on a blind date with her father-in-law. Sure, why not? I could do worse than have a future daughter-in-law that thinks I rock.
Here's some of my vision - first up, the fireplace (see through to the master bedroom) as seen from the living room:
On the bedroom side, think white mantel, with this tile surround, which is 3D marble in a basket weave pattern:
For the master bath, shower (no tub), with 2 pedestal sinks and this tile:
Kitchen sink faucet (if I can afford it, which remains to be seen)?
Laundry room floor:
Kitchen cabinets haven't been designed yet, but my vision there is only lower cabinets, with open shelves above. If it ain't pretty, it won't go on the shelves. I have a huge pantry where most of my kitchencrap neccessities will go, and I'll still have the lower cabinets and the island for storage.
The style will be kind of like this, without the upper cabinets.
See the white subway tile with the charcoal grout? That'll be everywhere in my house. Bathrooms and kitchen backsplash both. It's a timeless look that I don't think I'll ever get sick of.
Paying for all of this? Hmmm...
I went back to the
Here's some of my vision - first up, the fireplace (see through to the master bedroom) as seen from the living room:
On the bedroom side, think white mantel, with this tile surround, which is 3D marble in a basket weave pattern:
For the master bath, shower (no tub), with 2 pedestal sinks and this tile:
Kitchen sink faucet (if I can afford it, which remains to be seen)?
Laundry room floor:
Kitchen cabinets haven't been designed yet, but my vision there is only lower cabinets, with open shelves above. If it ain't pretty, it won't go on the shelves. I have a huge pantry where most of my kitchen
The style will be kind of like this, without the upper cabinets.
See the white subway tile with the charcoal grout? That'll be everywhere in my house. Bathrooms and kitchen backsplash both. It's a timeless look that I don't think I'll ever get sick of.
Paying for all of this? Hmmm...
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Good Instincts
I always thought of my house as a blank canvas; one where I could experiment with color and style. Some of my friends marveled at my bravery for painting the walls other than the white they came in, saying that they were so unsure of themselves they would never try it. One memorable wall treatment involved paint, stain, water, and plastic grocery bags. I loved that room, and felt a little sad when I finally painted over it when remodeling.
When I remodeled my kitchen in Texas, I obsessed over the details before I ever called the contractor. I knew in my head exactly what color, style, and grain I wanted in my cabinets, where I wanted shelves as opposed to cabinets, and even designed a wine rack for that ackward space over the fridge.
I remain proud of my kitchen to this day. The contractor told me that his job was relatively easy - he just had to do what I told him to do!
So now, I've put in an offer on 5 acres of land in Minnesota, and I'm working with a builder. He's one of those guys that know that they have no design sense, so there's not a lot of judgement at my choices (other than "that's going to be expensive"). Turns out I can't afford a true Craftsman home, but I'm going to get as close as I can.
Did I mention that I'm about to buy 5 acres? Turns out not being able to have chickens on the 2 acres I looked at for a year was a good thing. Just down the road there's a 5-acre parcel that's zoned agricultural and is heavily wooded. They've even cleared a spot for a home and started a driveway. My contractor, after looking at it, called me all excited and told me that I must jump on it - it's a special piece of property. After negotiating a bit, the seller has verbally agreed to a price - whoo hoo!
I've gone to two banks for the construction loan. My problem is that my home in Texas is still on the market, and I can't come up with the 20% down payment until it sells. The first bank said to give it awhile, and if it doesn't sell, perhaps I could take out a home equity loan. I started adding up the monthly payments for a mortgage, 2nd mortgage, and construction loan in my head and mentally shouted "EEK"!
So I went to another bank, and told her my situation. She very calmly said that they could roll the remaining principle of my Texas home into the construction loan in addition to the property. Sounding too good to be true, I asked about the interest rate. Well, a construction loan has a higher interest rate (5%), but you only pay interest for the amount used, and at the end, it converts into a real mortgage at a much lower rate. My mortgage in Texas is 5.75%, so that's a good deal.
Then the kicker. "How much cash do I need to come up with to make this work?", I said.
She looked surprised, looked down at her figures, then looked back up at me. "Nothing", she said.
"But you don't know me, you haven't looked at my credit - how can you say that?"
"Well, you'd have to qualify, of course."
"My credit rating is 814, and I was told by your competition that I would qualify for xxx".
"You qualify".
You gotta love a small town bank!
So now I'm running around the region to pick out tile, flooring, cabinets, countertops, plumbing, etc. in order to give to the bank for the construction loan. I spent quality time at the tile and flooring place yesterday afternoon, where a designer was on hand to assist me.
I had told her on the phone that I would be easy - I knew exactly what I wanted. I could tell that she didn't really believe me, but once I started to explain my vision to her, she got very excited. At the end, she said that I could work there, and that I was the easiest client she'd ever had.
Here's an idea of what my bathroom is going to look like:
I can't wait to talk to the cabinet maker!
When I remodeled my kitchen in Texas, I obsessed over the details before I ever called the contractor. I knew in my head exactly what color, style, and grain I wanted in my cabinets, where I wanted shelves as opposed to cabinets, and even designed a wine rack for that ackward space over the fridge.
So now, I've put in an offer on 5 acres of land in Minnesota, and I'm working with a builder. He's one of those guys that know that they have no design sense, so there's not a lot of judgement at my choices (other than "that's going to be expensive"). Turns out I can't afford a true Craftsman home, but I'm going to get as close as I can.
Did I mention that I'm about to buy 5 acres? Turns out not being able to have chickens on the 2 acres I looked at for a year was a good thing. Just down the road there's a 5-acre parcel that's zoned agricultural and is heavily wooded. They've even cleared a spot for a home and started a driveway. My contractor, after looking at it, called me all excited and told me that I must jump on it - it's a special piece of property. After negotiating a bit, the seller has verbally agreed to a price - whoo hoo!
I've gone to two banks for the construction loan. My problem is that my home in Texas is still on the market, and I can't come up with the 20% down payment until it sells. The first bank said to give it awhile, and if it doesn't sell, perhaps I could take out a home equity loan. I started adding up the monthly payments for a mortgage, 2nd mortgage, and construction loan in my head and mentally shouted "EEK"!
So I went to another bank, and told her my situation. She very calmly said that they could roll the remaining principle of my Texas home into the construction loan in addition to the property. Sounding too good to be true, I asked about the interest rate. Well, a construction loan has a higher interest rate (5%), but you only pay interest for the amount used, and at the end, it converts into a real mortgage at a much lower rate. My mortgage in Texas is 5.75%, so that's a good deal.
Then the kicker. "How much cash do I need to come up with to make this work?", I said.
She looked surprised, looked down at her figures, then looked back up at me. "Nothing", she said.
"But you don't know me, you haven't looked at my credit - how can you say that?"
"Well, you'd have to qualify, of course."
"My credit rating is 814, and I was told by your competition that I would qualify for xxx".
"You qualify".
You gotta love a small town bank!
So now I'm running around the region to pick out tile, flooring, cabinets, countertops, plumbing, etc. in order to give to the bank for the construction loan. I spent quality time at the tile and flooring place yesterday afternoon, where a designer was on hand to assist me.
I had told her on the phone that I would be easy - I knew exactly what I wanted. I could tell that she didn't really believe me, but once I started to explain my vision to her, she got very excited. At the end, she said that I could work there, and that I was the easiest client she'd ever had.
Here's an idea of what my bathroom is going to look like:
I can't wait to talk to the cabinet maker!
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Make a Left Turn Here
My roof still isn't done - it's gone to arbitration so we're waiting for a 3rd party appraiser to make an appointment with me. I've been waiting more than 2 weeks already, so I guess they'll stretch it out to their 30 day limit. I have decided upon a realtor to list my house when it's ready, so I guess I've made some progress.
That serendipity moment I had when the 2 acres of land came back on the market? Those dreams came to a screeching halt this morning. A friend of mine from Detroit Lakes posted on Facebook how disappointed he was that the city didn't allow backyard chickens. Okay, the land I'm looking at is outside city limits, so I'm okay, right?
I thought I should check anyway. Not finding anything on the Becker County website, I called the county offices. Nope, no chickens in Hidden Hills either. I have been dreaming about that little spot of land for almost 2 years, so you can imagine my disappointment!
I called my realtor in Minnesota and told her what I found out, and said that no chickens was a deal breaker. Just this morning she walked some land not on the market yet North of the city. I told her woods were important too, and she replied that there were a lot of pine trees surrounding the property. She's going to check to see if it's zoned agricultural - it's the same price, but less land.
I know the right place will happen, whether it's land to build my dream house, or a property that already has my dream house. The universe always gives me what I ask for, so I know that there's an even better place awaiting me. And chickens. There are definitely chickens.
That serendipity moment I had when the 2 acres of land came back on the market? Those dreams came to a screeching halt this morning. A friend of mine from Detroit Lakes posted on Facebook how disappointed he was that the city didn't allow backyard chickens. Okay, the land I'm looking at is outside city limits, so I'm okay, right?
I thought I should check anyway. Not finding anything on the Becker County website, I called the county offices. Nope, no chickens in Hidden Hills either. I have been dreaming about that little spot of land for almost 2 years, so you can imagine my disappointment!
I called my realtor in Minnesota and told her what I found out, and said that no chickens was a deal breaker. Just this morning she walked some land not on the market yet North of the city. I told her woods were important too, and she replied that there were a lot of pine trees surrounding the property. She's going to check to see if it's zoned agricultural - it's the same price, but less land.
I know the right place will happen, whether it's land to build my dream house, or a property that already has my dream house. The universe always gives me what I ask for, so I know that there's an even better place awaiting me. And chickens. There are definitely chickens.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
I Want to Keep Up with the Joneses!
I have been working with a roofing / siding company for MONTHS battling my insurance company to get the best deal possible on my claim. I got a check for the roof and gutters right away, but they're still wanting to simply patch the siding, which isn't good because the siding has been discontinued and the patch job will look horrible.
Yesterday morning I got all excited because a big truck parked right in front of my house and delivered shingles and roofing materials. To my neighbor. Who started the process way after I did.
I was feeling pissy and mad, especially this morning when workers showed up to start the work.
And then I thought of all the little coincidences I've had this winter. Needing a handyman and meeting one at Lowes. Needing to start the process of selling my house and having a real estate agent knock on my door. Wanting my siding cleaned and having a Gypsy show up and offer to do it cheap.
There are two things holding me back from putting the house on the market - the roof/siding, and the fence. The guy who said he would do my fence for me didn't call until yesterday; he's been sick but he's ready to go today.
Really, it all works out for the best, since I won't have a place to live until May 1 in Minnesota. My big brother has offered me his basement if I come earlier, but that just means moving again.
And...the 2 acre lot I looked at last summer? It's back on the market. It's calling to me.
Yesterday morning I got all excited because a big truck parked right in front of my house and delivered shingles and roofing materials. To my neighbor. Who started the process way after I did.
I was feeling pissy and mad, especially this morning when workers showed up to start the work.
And then I thought of all the little coincidences I've had this winter. Needing a handyman and meeting one at Lowes. Needing to start the process of selling my house and having a real estate agent knock on my door. Wanting my siding cleaned and having a Gypsy show up and offer to do it cheap.
There are two things holding me back from putting the house on the market - the roof/siding, and the fence. The guy who said he would do my fence for me didn't call until yesterday; he's been sick but he's ready to go today.
Really, it all works out for the best, since I won't have a place to live until May 1 in Minnesota. My big brother has offered me his basement if I come earlier, but that just means moving again.
And...the 2 acre lot I looked at last summer? It's back on the market. It's calling to me.
Monday, January 5, 2015
And Now For Something Completely Different.
Anyone get the Monty Python reference? Anyone?
Another Monty Python skit was about herding cats. If you've ever tried to get a group of people to all pay attention and follow you, you know how well that works.
And speaking of cats, my cat Grace used up another life last week. She had been doing remarkably well for a 17 year old cat in chronic kidney failure - eating well, active, shiny, alert, all that. In fact, at 2:00 a.m. on New Year's Eve, she sensed I was awake, and did her normal 'step on my face until I pet her' routine.
So around 7 when I woke up for real, I expected her to greet me the same way; happy to see me, butt in my face, pet me, feed me.
But she remained curled up at my side seemingly asleep, and although she was awake, she didn't seem to be able to raise her head. I got up, knowing something was horribly wrong, and started preparing myself for the worst.
After a couple of hours, I heard a noise, and realized she was out of bed using the litter box.
"That's a good sign", I thought, until I saw her. Her head was tilted funny, and she wasn't walking right. Before I could scoop her up, she went to her favorite hidey-hole behind the gas fireplace, under a built-in cabinet.
If you didn't already know it, cats tend to hide or go away to die. So I knew that Grace had done just that. So I tried to pull her out of the 6 inch hole, but she got away from me and went under the cabinet floor where there was no way to get her short of cutting out the cabinet bottom. Yep, that's my new Dremel saw, and the first project I got to use it on. Hope the new owners of my house don't open that cabinet!
I was able to reach in and get her, covered in saw dust by this point, and rushed her to my Vet's office, 9 minutes before they were to close for the holiday. Her blood tests showed that her kidney tests weren't that bad, but she definitely had something neurological going on. My choices were to take her to the 24 hour animal emergency hospital, or put her down.
Here's what my Vet said that made my mind up.
"Age is not a reason for not treating her". I had thought that at 17, she was old, and since twice before, a Vet gave me the option for putting her down, it was time.
I was 50/50 at this point - I didn't want her to suffer, thought she had a stroke and wouldn't recover, but didn't want to lose her either. The Vet warned me that the minimum I'd have to spend at the hospital was $2000, and could go to $4000 or $5000 easily.
I will gladly go into debt to save her life, thought I. So I drove down to the animal hospital where they were waiting for me. They took her from me immediately to take a look. Finally, the doctor came out and told me that they recommended that I hospitalize her for 48 hours, on IV fluids, antibiotics, etc. with no diagnosis or prognosis other than "animals tend to recover quickly, or die" from this type of thing.
I swear, the hardest thing I ever had to do was leave her there, even though they said I could come anytime, 24 hours a day to visit.
I called that night, and she was "stable", but no change. The next morning, I called to set up a visit and check on her, and the doc told me that Grace was doing super. She no longer had the head tilt, and if her kidney results were okay that afternoon, I could take her home a day early. The tears of fear and sadness from the day before turned into tears of joy at that.
She's been home 4 days now, and every day is better and better. She's pretty much back to normal as far as her alertness and behavior. She's not eating as much as she should, but she's doing better.
She has been milking the attention though. I ran out and bought her a new cat bed, and she's covered in a blanket I'm still crocheting. She now sleeps in the dead center of the bed, so I have to curl up around her, but I woke up this morning to a furry face pushing against mine, and a foot in my ear, so I guess I'll learn to deal with it.
Another Monty Python skit was about herding cats. If you've ever tried to get a group of people to all pay attention and follow you, you know how well that works.
And speaking of cats, my cat Grace used up another life last week. She had been doing remarkably well for a 17 year old cat in chronic kidney failure - eating well, active, shiny, alert, all that. In fact, at 2:00 a.m. on New Year's Eve, she sensed I was awake, and did her normal 'step on my face until I pet her' routine.
So around 7 when I woke up for real, I expected her to greet me the same way; happy to see me, butt in my face, pet me, feed me.
But she remained curled up at my side seemingly asleep, and although she was awake, she didn't seem to be able to raise her head. I got up, knowing something was horribly wrong, and started preparing myself for the worst.
After a couple of hours, I heard a noise, and realized she was out of bed using the litter box.
"That's a good sign", I thought, until I saw her. Her head was tilted funny, and she wasn't walking right. Before I could scoop her up, she went to her favorite hidey-hole behind the gas fireplace, under a built-in cabinet.
If you didn't already know it, cats tend to hide or go away to die. So I knew that Grace had done just that. So I tried to pull her out of the 6 inch hole, but she got away from me and went under the cabinet floor where there was no way to get her short of cutting out the cabinet bottom. Yep, that's my new Dremel saw, and the first project I got to use it on. Hope the new owners of my house don't open that cabinet!
I was able to reach in and get her, covered in saw dust by this point, and rushed her to my Vet's office, 9 minutes before they were to close for the holiday. Her blood tests showed that her kidney tests weren't that bad, but she definitely had something neurological going on. My choices were to take her to the 24 hour animal emergency hospital, or put her down.
Here's what my Vet said that made my mind up.
"Age is not a reason for not treating her". I had thought that at 17, she was old, and since twice before, a Vet gave me the option for putting her down, it was time.
I was 50/50 at this point - I didn't want her to suffer, thought she had a stroke and wouldn't recover, but didn't want to lose her either. The Vet warned me that the minimum I'd have to spend at the hospital was $2000, and could go to $4000 or $5000 easily.
I will gladly go into debt to save her life, thought I. So I drove down to the animal hospital where they were waiting for me. They took her from me immediately to take a look. Finally, the doctor came out and told me that they recommended that I hospitalize her for 48 hours, on IV fluids, antibiotics, etc. with no diagnosis or prognosis other than "animals tend to recover quickly, or die" from this type of thing.
I swear, the hardest thing I ever had to do was leave her there, even though they said I could come anytime, 24 hours a day to visit.
I called that night, and she was "stable", but no change. The next morning, I called to set up a visit and check on her, and the doc told me that Grace was doing super. She no longer had the head tilt, and if her kidney results were okay that afternoon, I could take her home a day early. The tears of fear and sadness from the day before turned into tears of joy at that.
She's been home 4 days now, and every day is better and better. She's pretty much back to normal as far as her alertness and behavior. She's not eating as much as she should, but she's doing better.
She has been milking the attention though. I ran out and bought her a new cat bed, and she's covered in a blanket I'm still crocheting. She now sleeps in the dead center of the bed, so I have to curl up around her, but I woke up this morning to a furry face pushing against mine, and a foot in my ear, so I guess I'll learn to deal with it.
The Grigsbys Part Nine - Soldier John
"Soldier John" Grigsby, was born in 1720 in Stafford County. In 1740, "Soldier John" accompanied Lawrence Washington, brother of George Washington, to Carthagena (now in Columbia) as part of the Virginia militia under the command of Admiral Edward Vernon.
Lawrence Washington inherited the estate formerly known as Little Hunting Creek Plantation, and renamed it Mount Vernon in honor of Admiral Vernon. When Lawrence's brother George inherited the property, he kept the name.
John Grigsby also commanded a company of Thirteenth Regiment of the Virginia Line during the early years of the American Revolution.
In 1746 Soldier John married his first wife Rosanna Etchison/Atchison. Together, they had 5 children before Rosanna died in 1761. Since their youngest child was born in December of 1761, I presume she died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. I am descended from his oldest son, James (1748-1835). An interesting fact about James is that he married his father's second wife's sister Frances Porter, who was 12 years younger than her sister.
In 1764 John remarried, to Elizabeth Porter, and they had 8 children, 7 of which were born in Stafford County.
In 1779, John Grigsby, his wife, and other family members crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains into the Valley of Virginia. He was preceded to the Valley by his son James, from whom he purchased "460 acres in the Forks of the James River" on November 2, 1779. When he arrived at "Fruit Hill" in Rockbridge, Co., VA, he was nearly 60 years of age and the father of at least 12 children. His last child, Reuben, was born there on June 6 of the following year. John Grigsby died April 7, 1794, and was buried in the cemetery of Falling Spring Presbyterian Church in Rockbridge Co., where the family worshipped. An historical marker at the church reads as follows:
FALLING SPRING PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
The Oldest Congregation in the Fincastle Presbytery, the Falling Spring Presbyterian Church, was organized before 1748. The Hanover Presbytery met here in October 1780. The present Gothic Revival church was constructed of slave-made brick during the Civil War. At the time of its dedication in April 1864, General Thomas L. Rosser's Cavalry Brigade was camped here. The first burial in the present cemetery was that of John Grigsby of Fruit Hill (1720- 1794).
In 1746, "Soldier John" married Rosanna Etchison, disposed of his holdings inherited from his father, Charles, in Stafford County, and moved with his young wife to Culpepper, Va. They had four (4) sons and one (1) daughter.
Rosanna died in 1762. In 1764, "Soldier John" married Elizabeth Porter; born 1734, died 1807. Elizabeth was buried in Falling Spring Presbyterian Church Cemetery. All of their children were born in Culpepper except Reuben, who was born at "Fruit Hill" in Rockbridge County.
Reuben's home, Hickory Hill, is in the National Register of Historic Places.
Lawrence Washington inherited the estate formerly known as Little Hunting Creek Plantation, and renamed it Mount Vernon in honor of Admiral Vernon. When Lawrence's brother George inherited the property, he kept the name.
John Grigsby also commanded a company of Thirteenth Regiment of the Virginia Line during the early years of the American Revolution.
In 1746 Soldier John married his first wife Rosanna Etchison/Atchison. Together, they had 5 children before Rosanna died in 1761. Since their youngest child was born in December of 1761, I presume she died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. I am descended from his oldest son, James (1748-1835). An interesting fact about James is that he married his father's second wife's sister Frances Porter, who was 12 years younger than her sister.
In 1764 John remarried, to Elizabeth Porter, and they had 8 children, 7 of which were born in Stafford County.
In 1779, John Grigsby, his wife, and other family members crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains into the Valley of Virginia. He was preceded to the Valley by his son James, from whom he purchased "460 acres in the Forks of the James River" on November 2, 1779. When he arrived at "Fruit Hill" in Rockbridge, Co., VA, he was nearly 60 years of age and the father of at least 12 children. His last child, Reuben, was born there on June 6 of the following year. John Grigsby died April 7, 1794, and was buried in the cemetery of Falling Spring Presbyterian Church in Rockbridge Co., where the family worshipped. An historical marker at the church reads as follows:
FALLING SPRING PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
The Oldest Congregation in the Fincastle Presbytery, the Falling Spring Presbyterian Church, was organized before 1748. The Hanover Presbytery met here in October 1780. The present Gothic Revival church was constructed of slave-made brick during the Civil War. At the time of its dedication in April 1864, General Thomas L. Rosser's Cavalry Brigade was camped here. The first burial in the present cemetery was that of John Grigsby of Fruit Hill (1720- 1794).
In 1746, "Soldier John" married Rosanna Etchison, disposed of his holdings inherited from his father, Charles, in Stafford County, and moved with his young wife to Culpepper, Va. They had four (4) sons and one (1) daughter.
Rosanna died in 1762. In 1764, "Soldier John" married Elizabeth Porter; born 1734, died 1807. Elizabeth was buried in Falling Spring Presbyterian Church Cemetery. All of their children were born in Culpepper except Reuben, who was born at "Fruit Hill" in Rockbridge County.
Reuben's home, Hickory Hill, is in the National Register of Historic Places.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
The Grigsbys Part Eight - Puritan John, Immigrant John, and Old John
In my last post we were still in England, where John Grigsby fought with the Puritans against the Monarchy and won...for a short time at least. The Monarchy was put back in place in 1660, and I can only imagine that John must have been a little fearful, knowing that he fought with the army that beheaded the father of the current king. John married for the first time in about 1650, but other than that we don't know anything. Perhaps John was fleeing not only the country, but his wife?
John arrived in the colonies in September of 1661, but he didn't apply for land until September of 1685. So where was he all that time? If he came over as an indentured servant, he would have paid for his passage in 5 to 7 years, not 24 years. So maybe he signed on as a sailor, and went back and forth between the colonies and England during those years.
After he arrived, he married Jane Rosser, or Prosser, and proceeded to have at least 6 children, all who lived to relatively advanced ages. Old John himself lived to ripe old age of 106!
John owned his first recorded land (100 acres) in King George County, which is due south of Washington DC about 40 miles and on the southern bank of the Potomac River. In 1699, John bought an additional 887 acres situated on the branches of Paspitanzy Creek in the county of Stafford, Virginia, which is just north and west of King George County.
When Old John wrote his will in 1728, he had 18 slaves, much land, hogs, and cattle, which he divided amongst his 6 children.
In the name of God amen, I, John Grigsby of the Parish of St. Paul's in the County of Stafford being in good health of body, sound, perfect, and disposing mind and memory, thanks be returned to God for same, yet being sensible of the uncertainty of this mortal life, do make, publish, and ordain this my last will and testament in manner and form following (that is to say) first and principally I recommend my soul into hands of Almighty God, hoping through the meritous death of my Blessed Savior and Redeemer Jesus Christ to receive full and free pardon and remission of my sins and to inherit everlasting salvation, and my body I commit to the earth to be decently interred at the discretion of my executors hereafter mentioned as touching the disposition of such temporal estate as it hath pleased Almighty God to bestow upon me, I give and dispose thereof as followeth (viz):
Item: I give unto my son John Grigsby his heirs part of tract of land I bought of Nicholas Battain from his spring branch to upper comer tree by William Smith's old field, and likewise I give him three negros, named Sambo, Thorn, and Dick.
Item: I give unto my son Charles Grigsby all that parcel of land from the swamp to Mr. Chandler Fowke's line whereon he now lives, it being in the pattern I bought of Nick Battain, and likewise I give unto him two negros, Robin and James, and to him and his heirs the land and negros.
Item: I give unto my daughter Mary Anne four negros: Jemmy, Will, Joney, and Bess, to her and her heirs.
Item: I give unto my son James Grigsby and his heirs all that parcel of land whereon he now lives from Jones Branch up his own spring branch and to across to his brother John's spring branch, and likewise I give him three negros: Jack, Ben, Dall and her increase forever to him and his heirs.
Item: I give unto my son William Grigsby, and his heirs all that parcel of land whereon he now lives, it being part of that patten I bought of Nicholas Battain from James* spring branch and up Jones Branch to my head line and soe along the line to his Brother John's land and likewise I give him three negros: Allow, Jane and Grace, their increase to him and his heirs forever.
Item: I give unto my son Thomas Grigsby all the remainder part of that pattain I bought of Battain from the end of Wolf Pit Point up Jones Branch to my head line on the east side of the branch; also I give him the said tract of land whereon now I live to him and his heirs and likewise I give him three negros: Nan, Genny, Mary, and their increase to him and his heirs forever and likewise I give unto my son Thomas Grigsby all my hogs belonging to me and likewise I give him half my cattle and the other half of cattle to be divided between my other four sons and daughter and likewise all my other part of my moveable estate to be equally divided between my six children, and further I doe desire
that my estate may not be brought to an appraisement, and further I doe appoint my two sons John and Thomas Grigsby to be my executors of this my last will and testament to see that everything equally divided between themselves revoking all former wills as witness my hand and seal this 17th March, 1728/9.
Signed and sealed in the presence of us and delivered: John Grigsby
Old John's son Charles (1682-1740) married Sarah Wilkerson and had 8 children. One of those children, John (1720-1794), also known as Soldier John, will be the subject of my next tale.
John arrived in the colonies in September of 1661, but he didn't apply for land until September of 1685. So where was he all that time? If he came over as an indentured servant, he would have paid for his passage in 5 to 7 years, not 24 years. So maybe he signed on as a sailor, and went back and forth between the colonies and England during those years.
After he arrived, he married Jane Rosser, or Prosser, and proceeded to have at least 6 children, all who lived to relatively advanced ages. Old John himself lived to ripe old age of 106!
John owned his first recorded land (100 acres) in King George County, which is due south of Washington DC about 40 miles and on the southern bank of the Potomac River. In 1699, John bought an additional 887 acres situated on the branches of Paspitanzy Creek in the county of Stafford, Virginia, which is just north and west of King George County.
When Old John wrote his will in 1728, he had 18 slaves, much land, hogs, and cattle, which he divided amongst his 6 children.
In the name of God amen, I, John Grigsby of the Parish of St. Paul's in the County of Stafford being in good health of body, sound, perfect, and disposing mind and memory, thanks be returned to God for same, yet being sensible of the uncertainty of this mortal life, do make, publish, and ordain this my last will and testament in manner and form following (that is to say) first and principally I recommend my soul into hands of Almighty God, hoping through the meritous death of my Blessed Savior and Redeemer Jesus Christ to receive full and free pardon and remission of my sins and to inherit everlasting salvation, and my body I commit to the earth to be decently interred at the discretion of my executors hereafter mentioned as touching the disposition of such temporal estate as it hath pleased Almighty God to bestow upon me, I give and dispose thereof as followeth (viz):
Item: I give unto my son John Grigsby his heirs part of tract of land I bought of Nicholas Battain from his spring branch to upper comer tree by William Smith's old field, and likewise I give him three negros, named Sambo, Thorn, and Dick.
Item: I give unto my son Charles Grigsby all that parcel of land from the swamp to Mr. Chandler Fowke's line whereon he now lives, it being in the pattern I bought of Nick Battain, and likewise I give unto him two negros, Robin and James, and to him and his heirs the land and negros.
Item: I give unto my daughter Mary Anne four negros: Jemmy, Will, Joney, and Bess, to her and her heirs.
Item: I give unto my son James Grigsby and his heirs all that parcel of land whereon he now lives from Jones Branch up his own spring branch and to across to his brother John's spring branch, and likewise I give him three negros: Jack, Ben, Dall and her increase forever to him and his heirs.
Item: I give unto my son William Grigsby, and his heirs all that parcel of land whereon he now lives, it being part of that patten I bought of Nicholas Battain from James* spring branch and up Jones Branch to my head line and soe along the line to his Brother John's land and likewise I give him three negros: Allow, Jane and Grace, their increase to him and his heirs forever.
Item: I give unto my son Thomas Grigsby all the remainder part of that pattain I bought of Battain from the end of Wolf Pit Point up Jones Branch to my head line on the east side of the branch; also I give him the said tract of land whereon now I live to him and his heirs and likewise I give him three negros: Nan, Genny, Mary, and their increase to him and his heirs forever and likewise I give unto my son Thomas Grigsby all my hogs belonging to me and likewise I give him half my cattle and the other half of cattle to be divided between my other four sons and daughter and likewise all my other part of my moveable estate to be equally divided between my six children, and further I doe desire
that my estate may not be brought to an appraisement, and further I doe appoint my two sons John and Thomas Grigsby to be my executors of this my last will and testament to see that everything equally divided between themselves revoking all former wills as witness my hand and seal this 17th March, 1728/9.
Signed and sealed in the presence of us and delivered: John Grigsby
Old John's son Charles (1682-1740) married Sarah Wilkerson and had 8 children. One of those children, John (1720-1794), also known as Soldier John, will be the subject of my next tale.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
The Grigsbys Part Seven - A Puritan and an Immigrant
The Grigsby fortune was pretty much gone by the time Thomas died in about 1650. In England about that time, a civil war was raging.
A little history as background here. Queen Elizabeth the First was the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. Known as the Virgin Queen, she never married and died without heir. So the throne passed to her first cousin twice removed, King James VI of Scotland, and he became James I of England. James was used to doing what he wanted to in Scotland (the Parliament there was weak), and he was confused when the stronger Parliament of England tried to keep him in check.
James was known as a spender, but peaceful, so when the throne passed to his son Charles I, England and Scotland had good relations. Charles was more ambitious, and wanted to unite England, Scotland and Ireland into a new single kingdom. The English Parliament didn't really like that idea, thinking that they'd lose old English traditions as well as the Monarchy.
But Charles, like his father, believed that Kings can do whatever they want without permission. Charles had the nerve to dissolve Parliament! But then when he realized he couldn't raise money without it, he reinstated it in 1628.
But then he refused to call Parliament for 11 years, called "Eleven Years' Tyranny". When Charles couldn't raise money any other way, he finally called a new Parliament in 1640. By this time, he had made a big mess of things in England and Scotland, and this Parliament put measures in place to put him in check. Charles sent 400 troops to Parliament to arrest 5 members for treason, but he failed, and fled to the countryside to avoid retribution.
There were two sides to this war - the Royalists, who were on the side of Charles, and the Puritans, led by Oliver Cromwell. The Puritans were mostly Presbyterian, and were angry about the excesses of not only the Kings, but the Church of England. John Grigsby, Thomas' son, was a Puritan, and fought against the King.
Long story, short, Charles was eventually found guilty of treason, and beheaded in 1649, just before Thomas died. Oliver Cromwell acted as the Protectorate of England until Charles II was restored to the throne in 1660. Actually, Oliver died in 1658, but his son held the role until the monarchy was re-established.
So now John Grigsby found himself on the wrong side, having fought against the king with the Puritans. What's a boy with no money and in trouble with the king to do but leave the country to seek his fortune?
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| The Grigsby Coat of Arms |
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