My best year/ my worst year....

My worst year was not this year, 2010. Some people think losing your house might be the worst thing that can happen to you. Granted, it was hard. The couple years leading up to it were equally hard. The stress of not knowing if you're going to be able to stay and what you can do to save it are very difficult. Being in real estate was very stressful, as sales were hard to get and the values were going down, etc. So making a living was hard as well. And being alone and having to make those decisions were extremely stressful... I didn't know where my money was coming from, and I tried other jobs, I worked at decorating, out of Costco, no less. And I worked at Chico's, a lady's store. And was a Census enumerator, which is a story in itself!
So after losing my house, getting the notice tacked on the door, and the physical and mental stress of moving was done. Here I am. Still trying to make a living, and still trying to make sense of the world.
But it's done, and whether or not I could've done it better, I don't know. It is what it is.
And I'm ok.
I did meet a nice man, and life goes on. He's a good person and very kind to me.
But my worst year was 2007, this time of year, when my mom and brother died.
My mom had Alzheimers and was back in Colorado in a care facility near my dad. I had just decided to go back to see them, and talked to my daughter and son in law about going with me to see them. I had called my dad on July 19th to let him know I was coming and leaving in a few days. He was very glad I was coming out and seemed quite happy. I tried to get out to see them once or twice a year.
The next day I got a message on my machine, (kind of strange that he would do that) that my mom was "gone".
"Gone" had no meaning to me. What? What was gone? She was sick, but I guess Alzheimers is sick. She just died in her sleep. So, calling him and talking to him was hard. I just called my daughter and threw some things in my suitcase and drove to Kali's to get them. I don't know what the hurry was, it just seemed important to leave then.
I miss my mom, she was the smartest person I knew, a registered nurse and everyone's wise woman. She knew what to do for every scrape or illness we all had. And in another day would have been the "healing woman" of the town. She was loving, nurturing and funny. I still want to call her every day and share something with her.
I wish I could.
When we were at her service, it was outdoors in Grand Junction's veterans cemetary, and in back of her casket were the bluffs and mountains around the valley. It was a beautiful day. My dad asked me to sing "Over the Rainbow" for her, which I did with love. My three brothers were there, my brother Geoff, the oldest had pancreatic cancer and had been fighting that battle for over 3 years. When they say "valiantly", that is what he did. With grace, and humor. I remember him putting a rose on her casket, tapping it and saying to her, "see you soon Mom". And I shook my head, no, that's not going to happen.
But less than 4 months later he had hip surgery for a broken hip he sustained in a fall, and came out of it ok. Unfortunately, what they found was his cancer had spread to his bones, and throughout his body. And I think, that opening him up, exacerbated the disease and he went downhill fast after that.
I went out to see him in Salt Lake in early November, and his once robust body was gaunt, and he looked skeletal. Very shocking to see. I don't know that he knew how shocking it was to see him just 3 months later, after he had lost nearly 100 pounds.
But he was still my brother, with his wry wit and great sense of self. He joked with the nurses, and doctors. And I sat by his side for maybe 8-10 hours a day, until his kids and others would come. I held his hand and changed his bedpan, and held his pan when he threw up in it. He wouldn't allow any shirkers to be there, if I was going to stay, I needed to get over my queasiness and help... And I didn't mind.
I lay my head down on the bed, and held his hand and told him over and over that I loved him. He was my oldest brother, and my favorite too. He taught me how to ride a bike, and spit, and how to defend myself. He took me to go swimming at the "C street Pool" when we were kids. And took me to the matinee and sat with me.
Later on, when we were both separated from our spouses he came and rented a room from me and we would talk about life and times, kids, men (mine) and all about our days. We played Trivial Pursuit with friends and have dinner together.

So we became friends again, and it was really a good time.
2007 was a really hard year for me. I don't remember a time when things were so tough. Missing my mom, and missing my brother. And many times not wanting to get up in the morning. Wonder what for. What was it all about.
But I found out.
Because in that grey time, there was a glimmer of life.
My daughter was pregnant throughout most of that year.
And that was my saving grace.
She was my saving grace. My little Daisy.
Exactly one month after Geoff passed on, Daisy came into the world.
And saved my life.
And became my little star.

I got that call at 6 in the morning from my son in law Greg, that Kali was in labor in Sacramento Kaiser. So I jumped in my car and drove to Sacramento, and of course got lost. (I am famous for getting lost!) But eventually got there to the hospital.
And rubbed Kali's back and shoulders and breathed in and out with her, and late in the day the doctors decided to do a C-section and our little angel came into the world. She was so tiny, but very healthy and pink! (my favorite color)
I fell in love the minute I saw her and held her. And am just so happy to have her in my life.
So though it was the worst year of my life, it was also the best year in my life.
Things were back in perspective. Things are not all bad.
This is life.
This is why we're here. To take it all and enjoy each day.
And love those little joys. And remember those we loved and hold onto those we have in our lives.

Settling in

Today is Sunday, I've been here in this little house for 3 weeks, sleeping, but not settled yet.
I was so lucky to get the little cottage. It's set back from a busy street, but has lots of foliage and 2 large redwood trees in front. They are such a gift, when I look outside, I can almost visualize I'm in the forest. (if I don't listen to the traffic going by!) But my mission is to stay as positive as it is possible to be.
It was built in 1932, with all the charm the people in those days could put in a house. It has some high ceilings, some 9', and the molding has curved edges in the kitchen which imparts a lot charm. The kitchen has lots of old cupboards, and after stripping off the glued down paper, I found one shelf that has like chicken wire built into the shelves and goes down to the basement, where the cool air radiates up from. I was so tickled to find the original shelves in place, where folks would put their eggs and milk and they would be kept cold. I love those touches.
The upstairs is basically a loft with little nooks and crannies, low slanted ceilings and lots of little closets which would delight Alice in her wonderland.
So though I lost an awesome 4000 square foot house, I have lots to be grateful for here. It's only 1000 square feet, so putting my stuff in here is a challenge, but I have downsized alot! I gave away a sofa, sold one, and loaned one to a friend.
And that is all the point, that people have been awesome! I put my challenges out there and so many have stepped up to help! Sixteen people with 5-6 trucks came to help me move! One guy said, oh, I can only stay an hour, and I said, I so appreciate that you came at all! And he stayed til the end, over 5 hours later.
Wow.
I put myself, my pride out there, and people stepped up!
Thanks again everyone! Susan, Carol and her kids, Denise, Greg and Kali, Rick, Greg and Deb, Debbie, Vera, Joy, Kerry, Chris, John, so many people. Moved, made food, took things, bought things and gave me moral support.
Life is good. We will all be ok.
Tim gave me some history of the house, his grandparents built it in 1932. And the "kids" Thelma, Millie and Vernon lived in the nook upstairs.2 bedrooms and one bath. Today, we have 4 bedrooms for 2 people! Grandma later had renters stay with her. I understand "Uncle Harvey" wanders around upstairs. I haven't met Uncle Harvey yet, but hopefully he will like me and we'll get along! I hope so!
Anyway, we can make it all work, we need to reach out and let those who are going through this that they're not alone. Grow your gardens and give out roses, and peaches and zucchini, give us/them your love.
We will survive!

Lessons on moving - lessons from the heart.

I have been moving my stuff out of my house for a week now. I've been packing for weeks before. Doing all the usual things, transferring power, tv, all that stuff.
And packing up memories.
I'm a very sentimental person. Things mean alot to me. But mostly in the context of where I've gotten things, and who has given them to me. My favorite things are those that I've inherited or were given to me by my mom and dad, and some by my old boyfriends. They represent the love that a person gives with the gift. So when I'm packing up my goodies, I think of those people and how I loved them, and the feelings I had getting them, and looking at them and feeling that love again.
For that reason, the stuff I have is hard to let go of. If the person is gone, I think I love the things to make up for my loss of them.
So packing and selling things are bittersweet. My mom got me started on collecting purses, I love little beaded ones, or silver mesh. A lot of them are 100 years old, and I think of the young women who had them before, felt the cool beads in their hands, looked at the pretty sparkles and loved them too. They took them on "dates" or special occassions.
I believe in using the wonderful old things I have and enjoying them, not just keeping them for display.
But things don't take the place of people, themselves. I love people. I love my family, my friends and my neighbors.
I loved my old house and wouldn't have given it up without a fight. But I did and I have. I've left it, and except for one more sale and a couple days of cleanup, I'm gone.
Hopefully someone else will love it too.
Life goes on.
But the real value I've gotten out of my house was the wonderful people who showed up to help me move. The house is just a house. But when I put the word out that I needed help, I've gotten so much help, and love and concern and caring.
That's what it's all about.
I am so happy about knowing that. The people who counted did show up. Susan, who came every day, my daughter who came to help, Connie who brought me a burrito, Brenda who made a casserole. Julie, who brought me boxes and packing. Joette, who showed up today with boxes.The men, who heaved and grunted under my heavy things were awesome!
My friend John who gave me a house to stay in.
You are all so wonderful and make me feel cared for.
I opened myself up and let it be known that I needed help, and you showed up.
Thank you so much from my heart.
I love you all!
So a single woman is not always alone in the world. It's hard to ask for help sometimes, my pride gets in the way. But I knew I couldn't have done it alone. I wouldn't have been able to. It was truly a miracle to see who came and what happened when it did. I opened myself to the universe and the universe gave it back to me.
I am blessed.

History in an old House

There's alot of history in a 100 year old house. 102 years to be exact. The last woman who had the house before me,lived here about 15 years ago. She bought it with her husband and 3 kids. She did a lot of remodeling, expanding the kitchen, doing wallpaper and custom floral carpeting. Unfortunately her husband had an affair with another woman and left her and the kids. She lost it to foreclosure. I met her a few years ago when she came by, I let her in for a tour of the house which she enjoyed, with her new husband, so she did move on.
The next owner was (by local neighbor's accounts)was an eccentric, artistic and wacky guy, who had numerous lovers, one of which he shot in the house... (not mortally, I gather) and had "preformance art" on the front porch in his toga. He would make a stage on the large porch and dance to loud music for the neighbor's (dubious) entertainment. From the account given to me by a reliable neighbor, he had some loud music on and was gardening in the yard next door, which at the time was his property also, when someone called the police because of the loud music. The story goes that the 2 police who came, one of which was a younger rookie cop, and when (allegedly) the owner Drew attacked the cops with a pitchfork, the rookie unloaded his gun into the owner and killed him.
This was quite a scandal in the neighborhood and town. The next owner, my ex boyfriend Bob, bought it from the bank, he said the previous owner never made a payment on the house and was also being foreclosed on. Bob owned it no more than 6 months,and as I said, I found him working on it and made an offer and purchased it basically before the paint was dry.
Sadly, Bob died of a heart attack a couple years later.
I had a friend who was a psychic, who when she came through the house said there were "many" spirits residing in the attic and not to go up there after dark.
I never felt spooked living in the house, I felt like Bob would've been there to take care of me from any adverse characters residing with me. In fact, I felt like the house was very welcoming to me and kept a close watch on me. So, if there were any of the spirits not wanting me there, they stayed upstairs and I let them be.
I hope the next owner will feel the love here that I did. I wish them well.
It is a lovely old home and neighborhood is mostly calm and generally a wonderful place to live.
One of my favorite neighbors, Vera is 81 years old and grew up in the house across the street, and her husband Richard, (now deceased) grew up in the house next door to me. They were married for 50 years and made/ make the neighborhood something classic to be cherished. Today she is like a mom to me and made me feel loved here.

My house

Is a 100 year old Victorian. I wouldn't have bought it, probably. But I ran into an old boyfriend, the love of my life who I had been with for 12 years, off and on....
here at the house. Bob loved houses, old houses especially. As do/did I. That was one of our occupations when we were together, was looking at houses, looking in windows, or going to the open houses. Bob, being the bold brash crazy man that he was would sometimes jiggle a doorknob or window and get inside to look at a house if he wanted to. While I would hide out in the car and hope not to get busted.
I remember looking at this house when it was for sale many years ago, probably early 1990's, or thereabouts. We came up on the porch and peeked in the windows then. No sale sign at that time.
I moved to Colorado in the early '90's since our relationship didn't seem to be progressing very well, 6 years and no proposal! I went back with my teenage daughter Kali and we bought an old Craftsman house in Grand Junction. It needed some TLC, but was a very nice house for us. After Kali graduated and wanted to come back to California, I moved too, to Dublin and bought a little house there. I had seen Bob many times after I went to Colorado, he seemed to not think that we had broken up, but that I was somewhere nice for him to go visit, every month for 5 years!
When finally, I put the pressure on him to commit, or not, we broke up. Again.
So, coming back to Antioch to visit my dentist, I saw his truck in front of this beautiful old Victorian. We hadn't seen each other in nearly 2 years, but I had never gotten over him.
So there he was, in the back porch, building some steps going up to the back door. When I appeared there, I thought he was going to have a heart attack when he saw me.
But he looked so pleased, and I couldn't help having the same old feelings flood over me. So, after we talked, and he told me he had a woman living with him now, nearly broke my heart. But I wanted this house. Maybe it had to do with him, but I know the house was my house from the moment I saw it. It scared me to death.
And I wanted it so bad. But to be honest, the connection with him was just as strong as it ever was. He was a big burly man, loud and boisterous, and crazy and loving.
So, I bought the house.
And I knew at the time, it was more than I could deal with. But it welcomed me in.
And made me love it. I gave it my heart.
It's been a lot to me, the love of Bob, and the love of old houses... And everyone said how nicely my antiques fit into it. As if they were bought for this old house.
I've been here nearly 11 years, and didn't think I could keep it this long.
But with the downturn in the market, my real estate career was such a struggle.
And Bob and I never got back together. He stayed with the woman he was with, and he died in 2002. So we never got back together, but I know he was happy with me getting this house, and loved that I lived here this long.
I lost it to foreclosure a month ago, and am being evicted. The house was being sold short to a friend who was going to rent it back to me, but the stricter guidlines that the banks have initiated have made it too difficult for him to buy it for me.
And though I've asked other people if they would buy it so I could rent it back, haven't found anyone able or willing to do this. So, it fell through the cracks, as did I. And I am dealing.
I am trying to be philosophical about this. There are many places in the world to live, so maybe I will move out and move somewhere else. Maybe I'm just a turtle with my stuff in my car, or in storage, and it is time to go. To move it on.
Such is life.
Such is the journey we are all on.
I will survive.
And I will smile again.
Trying!
It will all be good again.
I have my family, my friends, and my health.
Katie