Late, late, late

I am always behind. I read over my update, which is annoyingly still on the front page here, and notice that I thought I’d have my mom moved in by now. She thought so, too. But here it is July, and my husband is still working evenings trying to get all the woodwork done. It is taking so long to finish.

Of course all our renovation and remodeling projects have been like that- but heretofore it was only me that had to wait on the maddeningly slow process of getting things done on one’s off time. My mother is presently visiting my sister, so I don’t worry about her, but still….everyone is feeling the pressure to get this done. Really, it will only be the start of the next phase: MOVING. What is it about that word that strikes dread in the mind of every rational being? That is right: if you like moving you have got to be irrational; or else someone else does all the work for you. That is my opinion anyway.

But then my family ( except previously mentioned sister who moves about every two years) are clutter bugs. Even the neat ones are clutter bugs of ‘artistic collections’ of stuff.

I will try to de-clutter in earnest this year… only because I am truly tired of the avalanche of work it causes to simply move all that stuff around. And I’m talking about room to room. You fellow “messies” know what I’m saying. And there are lots of us. I want a Pottery Barn house. You know the one I refer to: the clean simple lines of artistically spare furniture and doodads. The one that has warehouses of storage somewhere for the change of seasons….. and styles. I could have that… I just need the storage and the employees to engineer it all.

This is a garden journal- but the Old House way of life is integral to the gardening life here. I used to have this see-saw way of balancing my life, a house of cards existance. The yard/ the house/ the homeschool…. with remodeling and babies and exhaustion.

I am trying to put Humpty Dumpty back together again now. Oh Yes, it can be done. It was the addition of the responsibility of the parents ( which started with my Grandmother that broke the carefully balanced household demands. Now my children are older, my health is on the mend, and mom is moving in. My demanding father ( of separate address) has passed from this plane of existance. Don’t get me started on the difficulty of caring for divorced parents. Don’t even start!

I’ll write about the garden related things…much more pleasant…. tomorrow (in the mañana sort of meaning- the Scarlett O’Hara tone of voice)

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