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.

Sydney

Blue

Grace and Sydney

The elusive Mouse

Sam

Scottie Sunshine

My sweet Maalea

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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!