Thursday, July 17, 2008


90% moved in. I've unpacked over 70 boxes and still have another 20 or so to go.

I'm beginning to really miss my work, however. The stories are whirling around in my head, some are in outline form, some are half written, one in particular is reading for editing. Another two ideas are written on Panera napkins. I can't stand it. No such thing as writer's block for me. In fact, right now, I believe I'm being tormented. All these ideas and characters and plot points are ripe for the picking. What I wouldn't give for three or four days of writing time.

Huh. Like that's going to happen anytime soon. Thing is, Time Warner Cable has informed us that it will be August 2nd before they can hook up our cable, Internet, and land line. AUGUST 2nd!!

Now, I don't care much that I won't have TV. I can live without it. But my emails and the Internet, that's another matter.

Point is, after this blog, you won't hear from me until after August 2nd. I'll have no way to blog, unless I go to Kinkos or a friend's house. If you need to reach me, call me if you have my number. Any way you shake it, I've got enough housework to keep me busy until the cows head to the barn. (As my grandpa used to say.)

So despite the craving to put my hands on my keyboard and punch out a few stories, I've got a new house to put together. See you on August 2nd!

Signing off ...

Big blessings to you and yours until then.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

A Real Place

It seems about once a week is my normal blogging time these days. At least for now. I'm spending my days boxing and unboxing. Organizing a kitchen again. Finding things I've not seen in years. Like letters from my son in 1995 when he went to boot camp. My daughter's bronzed baby shoes. A ceramic bowl given to me by my grandmother. My mother's china that serves 10. Pillows, lamps, linens, pictures, stemware, and on and on. The house is filling up.

I can see the end of the tunnel, however.

I'm pressing on. At times I feel like I'm walking through a dream. That at some point I'm going to wake up and it's all going to be gone. Funny how that moves me to finish. Like if I finish the house, then I won't wake up.

I've forgotten all the details to housekeeping. We've lived with my mother-in-law for seven years. Seven long years. It's been a blessing in a large sense. There are good reasons why we did this. But, well, two women in one house for that long ... it's not healthy. It's just time. Time to have our own home.

I'm hoping to be back to my old writing schedule within the month. For now, this house is all I can think about. You see, I've never owned my own home. Never had my name on a deed. My husband has been instrumental in the fulfillment of this dream. Yet isn't it strange, a woman of my age, homeless in a sense, all my life.

I'm grateful. You learn to never take anything for granted. I tear up and giggle at the same time. Almost every day. This summer I'm enjoying moving into my own house. Not a dream, but a real place I can finally call home.

Blessings to you and yours.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Buelah Land

I'm consumed with moving. Totally. Boxes, bags, furniture, a little of this and that spread over the old house and the new. I can't find my shoes, my favorite bra, or my Advil. It's a nightmare. How many times have I moved? Can't count at the moment, but this is bar far, the most unorganized move. There are issues to warrant that, but I'm trying to get it together. You'd think I'd have this down pat by now. No such thing.

Seven years of boxes and furniture have been collecting in Mike's mom's attic for this move. I can't even remember what's in them. I have to call the garbage man, cable guy, and buy a riding lawn mower this week. There's painting to be done. A new kitchen needs set up with everything from a coffee pot to groceries. I need to decide - do I want sage green in my living room or robins egg blue? My list is as long as both legs. Exciting, exhilarating, and scary all at the same time, this move into the house of my dreams is yes, all consuming.

I wish I could find more than an hour to sit and do what I do best ... write. But I have a new office to furnish. That motivates me to get it all done. My poor husband is working long hours, we both fall into bed each night ... exhausted. But deep in the back of my mind, I'm working on a new story that's developed from all this. I've got the title, the characters, and the message. Beulah Land. It's a metaphor for Heaven. It's also the name of my protagonist. A rough-edged woman, with a soft and doughy heart for her dog, a lost love, and an old house. Haunted by a confederate soldier. The words, Beulah Land, struck me recently as I walked over the property. I looked up the scripture.

"Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah: for the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married." (Isaiah 62:4)

I'm moving to my Beulah land. I hope it has lots of stories to tell. But right now I've got to get seven years of ... whatever is in those boxes moved to the house, find my shoes, my bottle of Advil, and Lord help me ... my bra.

Blessings to you and yours.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

We Begin A New Chapter

Michael and I have started a new chapter in our lives. We have purchased a home, complete with land, barn, outbuildings, and a house built in 1888. This house spoke to us the moment we drove down the long country road and caught the first glimpse of its beauty, tucked inside its magnificent trees. Surrounded by farms, this slice of heaven was God sent. Truly. His divine hand guided each and every move of this purchase. I believe it with my whole heart.

I plan to spend the rest of my days here. Reading and writing my stories. It's peaceful. It's where we're supposed to be. It's ours.

Few neighbors, at least within earshot, we love the seclusion. We were blessed to max. I'm weepy and elated all at once. It's been such a long, long time - years ... waiting, hoping, wishing, planning. Now here it is. Something I've dreamed of since a little girl. My own home.

Once upon a time, there lived a writer and photographer in a beautiful old house ...

... and the story begins ...

Blessings to you and yours.