Little House In The Big Peace

This is my last day here. Last night Daughter #1 went to her dad's to sleep since her bed now resides there. I miss her. Just as she was leaving for the night around 9 p.m. the lady who is going to find homes for Little Monster (the wee cat) and her kittens called to say that she was ready to take them and if we were able could we bring them by. I watched as the Daughters placed momma and her kittens in the box and we all said good bye to the sweet little cat that I raised from a new born kitten and handled only moments after she came out of her mom. It was hard to do, and there were tears.

It is early. I am showered and dressed and ready for the day. I had hoped for a sunny day since it is my last here. Not to be... the rain is coming down and suits my mood very well indeed. I have so much work to do and several hours of computer work before the computer is disconnected and placed in a box till we get to Nfld. But before I get to my work I decided on this post from the comfort of a computer as from now on til I get in Nfld I will have to be posting from my iPhone and no doubt mistakes will abound.

I have been ruminating on my home... my little log home... the home of my heart and the home of my dreams. For so many years when we moved to the Peace we were still a young couple... only married for just over 5 years. We had spent those years pouring money into someone else's pocket via rent. We really wanted a home of our own and for five more years we had to continue to rent. Finally we found a house that we both liked fairly well and we decided to buy. We went through all kinds of hell to come up with enough money for a down payment but buy it we did and it was good. Shortly after prices began to soar and we felt we had done very well to get something while the prices were still in our favour. Slowly this house appreciated in value and we watched our little home turn into a highly desired oasis. It was good.

But this house became more than a house of financial value.... somewhere along the lie our house became a home.  When does a house become a home? I can't say for sure but I loved this house and the surrounding area almost the minute I moved in... I knew that there would have to be changes made over the years to accommodate a growing family. For instance for the first three month the Daughters slept in our closet... and they couldn't stay there forever!

But we loved our new house regardless of the fact that there needed to be changes...

Everything was so barren when we moved in although I do have to say that we have lost so many of our old friends the pines. But our little home was sweet inside especially downstairs.

It was so bright and sunny and cheerful... but I knew that the kitchen had to change that first winter since there was burbur carpet on the floor and the only entrance to the house was  through it... every time someone came home from school there were boots and coats and back packs spilling all over the place and it was becoming a hazard. Tripping by the stove  was a regular occurance.  I didn't want to be harping on everyone all the time so things began to change.

Do houses become homes because of the changes? Cause if they do then we have certainly had plenty of those.

We brought in a log and closed off the cathedral ceiling so that we could have a bedroom for the Daughters... this was good, but then we needed the carpet taken out and flooring put down in the kitchen... so we did that and while we were at it we changed the fridge and stove so that the stove wasn't right in the area where everyone walks... I was terrified that one of the kids was going to fall and burn themselves badly on the oven door since it opened right in the pathway of the kitchen. There were still boots and coats all over the place and so I got the idea that a porch would be awesome and so to accommodate that we took out a window and put in a door, and in the process we lost our dining area.

In the process of moving the fridge and stove we had lost our pantry and so we decided to build a new on where the stove had been... it was not a hard task.... but we had a huge fight. That was the beginning.


We took off the steps to the house and moved them over to the new door and built on a new deck.  We both wanted the deck. It was done while I was enjoying my first sojourn to Olds.

But the deck became an oasis and soon we were not only happy with it but really glad that we had done it... We probably should have stopped there but we had always talked about an addition since the house was so small... and the girls were getting bigger and the fights due to sharing a room were becoming unbearable. We went to the bank and got a loan to accommodate the addition and lifting the roof to make the rooms upstairs better. By this time Sir Arsewipe had already left me in spirit. But he seemed fine and we were getting along through it all so well. It was being done by someone else and Sir Arsewipe only had to put on the finishing touches. I was helping. But our little house had become a home... a real home one that could take us into the future as a family of adults if we could just get the rest of the work done.

And so we worked on it and we both worked hard. But always I thought it was that we were doing the work together and making something better for all of us.  I thought we were both into it.

Every summer we would do a little bit more and sometimes we would work on it on spring vacation and so on... finish one job and on to the next.... soon we were starting to see real progress... we were getting there.

I was getting to be really proud of our odd little home that we had worked so hard on... And then.....


Perhaps I was too proud... but I know I loved it here in this little wee house... and it had become a home... we had lived in it to the best of our ability, with all the joys and sorrows that go with being a family.  We had gone through fun times and illnesses and losing pets and fights and makeups and pleasures and pains. It was the home of my heart. But I guess it wasn't the home of his.

So to get back to what I first stared to say.... what is it that makes a house a home...

Is it the Christmas trees enjoyed.

Or the family Christmas pictures taken....

Including the goofy ones...

Or more serious ones...

Is it the stockings hung...

Or the garlands strung...

Is it the gifts opened...

Is it the parties had....

Is it the meals served...

and the food cooked....

or the tea consumed....

or the dishes washed...

is it the wool spun or dyed or woven or taught....

Is it the barns built, or the gardens kept, or the decks decorated....

is it the animals cared for....

is it the illnesses cared for...

or is it the snow that fell....

or your husband being a goof ball....

Maybe it is watching your children grow to maturity....

I thought that we had it all in this wee home...

I'm not sure what makes a house a home... I have tried so hard to make the best home possible for my family... it hurts to look around and see that it was all such a resounding failure. But I will not be making a home for him anymore... I will instead do my absolute best to make a home for myself and my girls in the best way that I can.  This house was my home... but I am ready to leave it now... and though these last few months have been filled with heartache... a heartache that was initiated due in part to this house... I will always look back on this house as the home of my heart. I have lived in 18 different buildings and I can safely say that this ones was the best... the one I loved the most... the one I am sorry in so many ways to leave. I think what makes a house a home is the love that was found there and for my part I loved the hardest and the best in this house.

I wonder if I will ever find one as close to my heart as this one was. It is the first home I ever owned and I owned it with the man I loved the most and my two most beautiful children. It is the home where I passed from being a young woman to a middle aged woman. The things that pass in your younger years never happen again. It makes it that much more poignant.

Garage Sale And Other Stuff

I am beginning to see the bottom of the pit in the shed. I never thought that would happen. I have gone through all the fleeces and figured out which ones are coming with me. I have dug down through all the crap in the shed that is mine to deal with and I am done... at least with the shed. Now I am in a heap of a mess in the house. There's bags of fleece every where and I haven't even cleaned out the bedroom or the bathroom yet. My bedroom I have been working on the majority of it in the last few weeks. But slowly I am beginning to see that I am getting through it all... still there are heaps of things in here that will have to go.And the pile to be moved keeps getting higher and higher and higher... and more expensive. It worries me. There is far too much to be moved back to Nfld. I wish I could off load some of the stuff especially the antiques because half of them I will not get used again. They end up getting stored. There are a few of the antiques that I use but honestly there are a lot that I will not be using. So basically I will paying to haul that stuff across Canada for no real reason other than to preserve feathers that easily ruffle.

Still the garage sale was good. We sold tons of stuff and the things that went fastest were the furniture items.  All that's left of that stuff are a few shelves and a bureau and an old desk... the rest is kitchen stuff which never sells and a games table, an electric organ, skis,  skates, books, and some tooly kind of gadgets. For all intents and purposes we have gotten rid of a lot of stuff. Still I really wish that we could have gotten rid of more. But then Sir Arsewipe will have to get rid of it and honestly I am thinking that that's his problem.

I made a good bit of money... almost enough for a utility trailer for when I get to Nova Scotia. And Why do I want to do this?? I am hoping that I can buy a utility trailer when I get to Nova Scotia since I will need to haul stuff with me as I refuse to buy a van (hate vans). Instead I will probably buy a little SUV that seats five and then the dogs will go in the back of my vehicle and our luggage will go into the utility trailer. Then when I get to Nfld I can use the utility trailer for hauling our camping gear, the canoe, and the kayak. I have decided that just because I don't have a man in my life doesn't mean that I have to give up my life. No way Jose! So I will for all intents and purposes be glad of the few dollars I am making from this sale, since it will mean the difference between camping and canoeing or not.

Michael continues to be hateful and hurtful but I suppose I cannot expect him to be something he is not. He tries to hide his hurtfulness but in the end he is. Both girls get hurt by him regularly since he is as unreliable with them as he was to me when we were married. (Yes I realize we are still married but I don't think of us as married in the same sense.) He also says things that show he is the most insensitive scumball that ever walked. Daughter #2 told me he said something pretty insensitive on Facebook that hurt her and she had a bit of a texting war with him afterwards. But although I was so torn up a few days ago about leaving this life which for so long I thought was so good and true and real, I am beginning to realize that no it is not... he is not a family man... he is a single man with his nether regions foremost in his mind.

So I have two days left in this house. Wow... I am floored by how quickly a few days pass and suddenly you are faced with getting out... fast. There is not a lot left to do... but there is a lot left to do... if you get my drift.

Today is overcast and there is a lot of stuff out on the deck that shouldn't be caught in rain but it will have to stay there until we are ready to get it out of there. I once again have friends coming to help me with this pile of crap that I am trying to offload. And offload it I will. So.. it is now 7:30 a.m. and I had a decent night of sleep though I once again woke at 4 a.m. But I think my body is starting to get used to this brutal schedule. As long as I get 5 or 6 hours of sleep I seem to be emotionally in control... I do however, enjoy telling Sir Arsewipe to screw off... (only sometimes I tend to use worse language). It is funny how our relationship just keeps going down hill. But then what else do you expect when your husband has been cheating on you for so long and so absolutely and he seems to think that it was alright... ok... normal... and that it was my fault. Weird! What an a-hole.

Anyway, before this goes any further into a name calling fest I will head off and get some work done.

Onward and upward.

The Perfect Day

The above painting is called the perfect day. I'm not sure what my perfect day would look like. Once I would have known. I would have said that it involved spending time with Teapot (currently known as Sir Arsewipe)... it would have involved drinking tea made in a teapot over an open fire in the bush... or maybe a paddle on the river.... But now that is certainly not what I would want as a perfect day.  What would be the point? We barely talk to each other anymore and generally when we do I am either pissing him off or he is pissing me off, so spending a day with him would be far from perfect. My perfect day would certainly involve relaxing, if I could just turn off my brain for a little while. I would love to have time for a sit in the sun on a beach. Maybe walking along the sand or through the rolling surf... maybe even making a sand castle. This is a part of my life that I have denied since meeting Sir Arsewipe.  He has never been one to encourage beachy activities and honestly we haven't had the time or the inclination, mostly due to the fact that we had other priorities. I think there is a me that has long been buried under responsibility and obligations. Since moving to this community, I have given up so much of my time to volunteer activities and while at first that was o.k. I am realizing how much of my life was taken away not only with my volunteer activities but also with Sir Arsewipe's activities too. I mean if you volunteer at the same things then it seems to be ok... but if you volunteer at different organizations then you don't see each other very often.

I have spent this last night reflecting on that.  Sir Arsewipe's interests have taken him far from me... while I used to think that this wee town was a good place to live, I am realizing that as the volunteer capital of the world, really it has taken away every opportunity we ever had at becoming closer. Sir Arsewipe and I have been traveling along different paths for a while. After we moved here he took up curling and while I like to watch curling sometimes, I really can't be bothered to curl. I took up the church and while I was very involved with that Sir Arsewipe resented pancake breakfasts and potluck dinners and all the time that it took each week for me to prep for services and write sermons. Sir Arsewipe got involved with the Rangers and Junior Rangers and while I tried the last for a while... quite honestly it bored me to tears. In addition, while I think it is an awesome program, I hate working with youth (unless they are my own youth... I quite enjoy that). I was heavily involved with the spinners and weavers and that bored Sir Arsewipe to tears. So really we have been moving in opposite directions for a while. Especially since he has gotten involved with..... oh yeah I can't mention that yet.  While he likes hunting I got turned off that when I went hunting a few years ago and missed my target slightly but winged a deer. If you wing a deer and don't get a direct hit it feels pretty awful. It left me reeling to see the hurt I caused that animal and know that I didn't kill it. For days I searched the forest looking for the body of that deer and never did find it. It truly turned me off from hunting... as a matter of a fact I haven't picked up a gun since. Also, I like to build things he hates it. He likes to go to bed at three a.m. and get up late in the morning... I like to go to bed at ten and get up at five... these don't make for a happy relationship. While I thought we were big enough to get around these problems and I thought we had gotten around them and respected each other's interests and habits, I realize now that they did nothing to add to our "love". (I'm not sure I would call it that since he seems to feel that he never loved me).  Our differences go on and on and on... that's not to say that we didn't have likes that were similar... if we hadn't I'm sure we would never have lasted as long as we have.  But our differences abound. For one thing, I am is a nurturer... Sir Arsewipe resoundingly is not... he tends to think of himself first... even with all his volunteer activities. He has never done a blessed thing with the financial end of our marriage other than bring home the paycheck and do the taxes at the end of the year.

With all of the time I have had this summer I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on the many differences between us and there are many. Sir Arsewipe sees himself as a martyr. when he does things he does them because he sees himself as a generous and giving guy and while that is the outward appearance I have realized that generosity is not the same as obligation. he also does these things because he feels he should. And that is not free giving. I mean he married me out of obligation because he felt he shouldn't tell me that he wasn't happy since I had broken up with a guy so that I could go out with him. (It's complicated.) When all he did in his misguided martyrdom was hurt and ruin my chances for a good life. I was devoted to him... but well I'm pretty sure he was not devoted to me.

Anyway enough about Sir Arswipe.  He takes up way too much of my time and thoughtful energy.

Getting back to my perfect day.... My perfect day would be to spend it at the beach... not necessarily swimming (I'd swim if it weren't too cold)... just wading and walking and staring at the waves with a little bit of wool and maybe a spindle to make cotton yarn (you can't use wool at the beach that would be sacrilege) and I might bring along a good book... but something light like a mystery or a romance, you don't want a heavy book at the beach. I would like to have a picnic of plain chips and orange crush and some mini cucumbers with cheddar cheese and sliced turkey on the side with nanaimo bar for desert. I would sit there and stare at the waves or take the dogs walking along the shore dabbling my feet in the water and maybe throw sticks for the dogs to fetch and then do a little beach combing and check out the shells and hermit crabs in the tidal pools and maybe climb around some of the cliffs looking for sea urchins. Then as the hot summer sun was setting I would pack up my chair and towel and picnic stuff, my book and spindle and I would head back to my car as the sun sank beneath the horizon. I would head home to a nice supper and a warm shower to wash off all the sand and then I would get ready for bed with the windows open to the cool night breeze off the ocean.

Could there be any other better day? Maybe if I could share it with someone of like mind and we could walk back to the car holding hands after a very satisfying and relaxing day.

The Darkest Part Of Night Is Just Before The Dawn

Every day I look around me and I see a little more of my life packed away in boxes. Everyday I see a little more of Sir Arsewipe's life packed away in boxes. It gets harder and harder instead of easier and easier. We are down to the last four days in this house that I have shared with my husband and children. We bought it from a couple who got a divorce and the people who are buying it from us are getting it from a couple on the brink of divorce. I wonder if there is something significant in that.

It is the middle of the night and somewhere at the end of our property there is a coyote shrieking. I have wondered when their autumn carols would begin. I knew it couldn't be long. Somewhere around the end of August when their latest batch of pups have matured, they take them out of their dens and they do a nightly shriek fest and this goes on for usually and few months until the cold winter nights come.  Always when I hear them I think of my alpacas and the sheep that used to reside here and I would worry that some night the coyotes would get in their pens, but I will not have to worry about that any longer.

As we draw closer to the day when I will leave this house I am finding that I am feeling more and more fragile. I think that as long as I was living in this house I could fool myself into believing that things hadn't changed so much. But more and more I am finding that I cry in the night thinking about my life and how much I miss my husband and how much I want things to be the way they were when I thought he loved me and the girls. I miss the intimacy of sharing your life with a loved one. I miss having someone who cared about me. What I'm having trouble with is remembering that he has never loved me and he has never really cared if I am to believe what he has written. When I think about those harsh words, when I think about the love letters he has written to her, when I think about the awful things he has said about me and my mom and dad, then I just want to shrivel up inside and disappear. I can't tell you how mixed up, stupid, twisted you feel to love and hate a person at the same time. Sometimes I feel like I am going to explode with all this jumble of feelings and I just want to feel nothing for a little while... nothing.... not a darn blessed thing. Pure oblivion would be such a relief right now, and the sad thing is... no one can take this away from me and help me. Only me, only I can fix this...

I think that leaving this town and I think that leaving him behind will be a good thing. I found that distance when he was in Vernon helped a lot. Perhaps that kind of distance will help me some again. And I wonder how long it will be before I am able to get through a day when I don't cry... when this broken heart of mine will mend some.... if it will ever mend.... and I beg God to help mend it. But somehow I doubt it. That man has broken me... has broken me. I am realizing that the reprieve of the last month was only surface deep and that this hurt reaches down into the very pit of me where people can't see it. I get up each day and plaster a smile on my face and when people ask me how I am doing I say, "I am doing ok... I have had bad times but I am starting to feel better about it all." It is not true I think... I feel like my life is an out of control roller coaster careening down a track and I don't know when or where it is going to stop and Sir Arsewipe is the engine dragging us all after him. I am trying to let go of that engine but for some reason the coupling won't let go... malfunction.  That's me one great big flipping malfunction. And still that smile is plastered on my face when all the while inside I am hollow. That heart of mine that shattered outside the kitchen door and spread across the deck and ground, is now a million pieces covered in sawdust and soon will be swept over the end of the deck to be rained on and snowed on and walked on... I feel like I have one of those plastic hearts inside of me that is meant to keep my body functioning until a heart transplant can be found. But what is the likelihood of that. Anyone got an extra heart?

Doesn't look much like you can use this for love.

Again tonight I woke in the wee small hours... half past two my eyes popped open and I tossed and turned for an hour before I finally got up. I wonder how long a person can function on two or three hours of sleep each night. I am so tired and want so much to lay down this heavy burden I am carrying. But instead I will go downstairs and work... there are several boxes that need repacking because they are far too heavy to be healthy to pick up.

I've always heard that the darkest part of night is just before the dawn. I don't know about that but it feels pretty dark right about now. Certainly to God there will be some light soon?