Finally! Our posting message is in!
After over a year of waiting, we know where we are going. And I’m exhausted already.
Last Wednesday (five days ago) the message came in. Thursday we contacted real estate agents both here and in our next location. Friday night we filled out the listing paperwork. Saturday and Sunday we cleaned like MAD. This morning (Monday) the photographer came to take pictures for our virtual tour. This afternoon the relocation company’s appraiser came to do his paperwork. Tonight the sign goes up on our driveway. Tomorrow morning the listing goes live on the internet and the REAL fun begins.
The posting process slowly builds as you wait to find out where, and begin the general process of cleaning out and getting ready. Then the bubbling frenzy of the pre-listing period hits. You scrub, paint, tidy, chuck, hide, dust and primp your house into looking like something from a magazine cover. In the past two days I’ve made curtains, flower arrangements and lovely clean piles of firewood. We started at 7 am and went until 11 pm. Last night I swear I dreamed of dust rhinos taking over the world. Our house has not been this clean in the two and a half years we’ve lived here. Sadly, military family organizational nirvana only happens in the brief period between listing and sale.
As a military family, we’re not new to this craziness. This will be our 8th move in 14 years. I’ve moved once with a toddler and a 4 week old baby who screamed every minute of our four day drive. And once with two toddlers and a 3 month old baby. Not fun. But, wonder of all wonders, this time our kids are actually HELPING in the process. It’s an odd development. Our twelve year old is a whiz at cleaning windows. Our ten year old can sweep and shovel like a pro. Even the eight year old is discovering the wonders of the home staging world. Very cool! And last night, after working hard ALL DAY, they were actually playing with one another! HAPPILY! And without making a mess! What’s with that? Who’d a thunk it?
There’s still work to do, but the preparations are almost finished. Now comes the annoying ‘keep-the-house-clean-because-showings-only-come-when-two-kids-are-barfing-and-the-dog-decides-to-eat-the-laundry-room-door’ phase. It’s a whole new category of Murphy’s Laws. The kid that forgets to flush his poo-poo before we leave. The dirty sock that doesn’t quite make it to the laundry basket. The (don’t laugh because it’s happened) boogers rubbed on the entryway wall. This momma’s got hawk eyes, but I know that something will be missed. And I also know that someone will come along and love this much just as much as we have.
Please God, just make it quick.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Blogshead Revisited
Days hubby was gone.....151
Days til he returns.....NONE!
Current Work In Progress... Editing 48,000 wd manuscript from NaNoWriMo
Well, so much for November and December. Ummm...I lost them somewhere in the snow. How is it that when life is complicated and crappy I find lots of time to blog, but when it's busy but good...? Not so much.
I could bore you with tons of details about how my wonderful hubby came home(my kids had absolutely NO IDEA until he was standing in front of them), I took part in and won NaNoWriMo (along with my three children), and had a great Christmas with family and friends locally and in my home town...but there were no major catastrophes, blood sugars stayed relatively normal (well, except for the emergency roadside site change in Montreal), and people were happy in my house. I was happy in my house. November and December were good.
Enter January.
Snow. Cold. Dark. Editing.
As much as I dislike the snowy, dark, frigid days of late January. Editing really makes me shiver.
I've been a really good girl. I put away my NaNo manuscript for almost six weeks. And now, for the first time since I did my final NaNo update on Nov 29th, I've taken it out and am reading it.
It's always a bit shocking the first time I read something I've written. I wrote that?? Me?? Cool. It's not bad! Seriously! Sure, it's not publishable material yet, but the feeling is there. My problem is taking that feeling and expanding it to something vortexy. Something that sucks you in and spits you out panting on the last page. The bones are there, but my editing skills are not. Help!!
So....instead of editing (my plan for the evening), I'm blogging. Hmmm...avoidance is the best policy. And as a working, writing, miltary spouse and mom of three kids, there's always something else to do than edit!! Laundry! Dishes! Vacuuming! Cleaning the kitty litter! Scraping boogies off the wall! The list is endless.
But those all sound too much like work.
I'd rather just sit here and talk to you.
Brenda
Days til he returns.....NONE!
Current Work In Progress... Editing 48,000 wd manuscript from NaNoWriMo
Well, so much for November and December. Ummm...I lost them somewhere in the snow. How is it that when life is complicated and crappy I find lots of time to blog, but when it's busy but good...? Not so much.
I could bore you with tons of details about how my wonderful hubby came home(my kids had absolutely NO IDEA until he was standing in front of them), I took part in and won NaNoWriMo (along with my three children), and had a great Christmas with family and friends locally and in my home town...but there were no major catastrophes, blood sugars stayed relatively normal (well, except for the emergency roadside site change in Montreal), and people were happy in my house. I was happy in my house. November and December were good.
Enter January.
Snow. Cold. Dark. Editing.
As much as I dislike the snowy, dark, frigid days of late January. Editing really makes me shiver.
I've been a really good girl. I put away my NaNo manuscript for almost six weeks. And now, for the first time since I did my final NaNo update on Nov 29th, I've taken it out and am reading it.
It's always a bit shocking the first time I read something I've written. I wrote that?? Me?? Cool. It's not bad! Seriously! Sure, it's not publishable material yet, but the feeling is there. My problem is taking that feeling and expanding it to something vortexy. Something that sucks you in and spits you out panting on the last page. The bones are there, but my editing skills are not. Help!!
So....instead of editing (my plan for the evening), I'm blogging. Hmmm...avoidance is the best policy. And as a working, writing, miltary spouse and mom of three kids, there's always something else to do than edit!! Laundry! Dishes! Vacuuming! Cleaning the kitty litter! Scraping boogies off the wall! The list is endless.
But those all sound too much like work.
I'd rather just sit here and talk to you.
Brenda
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Community Based on Trust.
Days since hubby deployed: 134
Days 'til he returns: currently unknown
Work In Progress: shelved for a bit, preparing for NaNoWriMo
As I write this, a sick, sick man is being tried for horrible, unthinkable crimes. Crimes committed here. Where I live, where I work. He was my husband's boss. In fact, he was the boss of thousands. And thousands more trusted him with their lives, their careers...their families. He abused that trust, using information he gathered through his power at work to stalk, steal, rape and murder. Where I live. Where I work. Where my children play. I thought he was a friend.
It's thrown me for a bit of a loop. You can't avoid the shocking testimony. It's on the cover of every local paper. On the television. On the internet. It's talked about in the grocery store. On Twitter. On Facebook. It's terrifying, sickening and it's very real, because it's right here. I keep my dog close. I triple check the doors and windows at night. Leave lights on outside. I hug my kids. I pray the time will go quickly and my husband will be home soon.
Miltary families are regularly thrown into situations where they have to trust complete strangers. We move. We rarely have extended family to depend on. Our spouses go away. Our commanders have access to information no civilian boss would. It is a system based on trust. Honor. Integrity. Respect. These are words that we live by. And this one man has threatened it all.
There are so many people I have had to trust in the past. Neighbours, babysitters, workmates, book club friends...people I've met through my husbands work, through military family resource centres, standing at kids' schools, waiting outside kids' activities. Some are miltary, some are civilian. My 'military family' includes people from across the globe. People I've had to depend upon. Wonderful, wonderful people that have listened to me when I needed a friend. Supported me. I am so thankful for each and every one of them. It's quite overwhelming to think of the wonderful friendships I've built over the years with people who started out as strangers. I hope I have been as valuable to them as they have been to me.
I debated a long time before discussing the fact that my husband was away on the internet. I didn't want to advertise the fact that he was away. Especially as his ex-boss was awaiting trial for preying on women who were home alone. But I want to share my experiences, maybe to help another deployed spouse, maybe to help others understand life in the military community.
I know this will pass. He'll be sentenced. The news will find something else new and shocking to cover. But my military family will endure. I won't stop trusting people just because of one man's hideous crimes. In fact, I will trust them more. Trust that we will keep each other safe.
Brenda
Days 'til he returns: currently unknown
Work In Progress: shelved for a bit, preparing for NaNoWriMo
As I write this, a sick, sick man is being tried for horrible, unthinkable crimes. Crimes committed here. Where I live, where I work. He was my husband's boss. In fact, he was the boss of thousands. And thousands more trusted him with their lives, their careers...their families. He abused that trust, using information he gathered through his power at work to stalk, steal, rape and murder. Where I live. Where I work. Where my children play. I thought he was a friend.
It's thrown me for a bit of a loop. You can't avoid the shocking testimony. It's on the cover of every local paper. On the television. On the internet. It's talked about in the grocery store. On Twitter. On Facebook. It's terrifying, sickening and it's very real, because it's right here. I keep my dog close. I triple check the doors and windows at night. Leave lights on outside. I hug my kids. I pray the time will go quickly and my husband will be home soon.
Miltary families are regularly thrown into situations where they have to trust complete strangers. We move. We rarely have extended family to depend on. Our spouses go away. Our commanders have access to information no civilian boss would. It is a system based on trust. Honor. Integrity. Respect. These are words that we live by. And this one man has threatened it all.
There are so many people I have had to trust in the past. Neighbours, babysitters, workmates, book club friends...people I've met through my husbands work, through military family resource centres, standing at kids' schools, waiting outside kids' activities. Some are miltary, some are civilian. My 'military family' includes people from across the globe. People I've had to depend upon. Wonderful, wonderful people that have listened to me when I needed a friend. Supported me. I am so thankful for each and every one of them. It's quite overwhelming to think of the wonderful friendships I've built over the years with people who started out as strangers. I hope I have been as valuable to them as they have been to me.
I debated a long time before discussing the fact that my husband was away on the internet. I didn't want to advertise the fact that he was away. Especially as his ex-boss was awaiting trial for preying on women who were home alone. But I want to share my experiences, maybe to help another deployed spouse, maybe to help others understand life in the military community.
I know this will pass. He'll be sentenced. The news will find something else new and shocking to cover. But my military family will endure. I won't stop trusting people just because of one man's hideous crimes. In fact, I will trust them more. Trust that we will keep each other safe.
Brenda
Friday, July 9, 2010
Overdunne Writing...a manuscript is born.
I love to write. I always did, but didn't really realize it until a few years ago. Like most people, I wrote through elementary and junior high school, but only when I was told to. Mostly I read. And read. And read.
In high school I started to write articles for the school paper, and then for the local newspaper. I penned deep, teenage hormonally-charged poetry and hid it in my closet. I started university with a full scholarship and the conviction that I was going to be a journalist someday. And, yah baby, I was going to change the world.
But then the practical side of me kicked in. I am not a city girl. The glamourous, exciting, adventure-filled life of a prime time news correspondent didn't sit well with my inner chi. So what did I do? I became a military physiotherapist and moved to Ottawa. Not a whole lotta logic there, but it's what I did.
And before I bore you with any more of my life history, we'll skip over about 15 years. One husband, one military release, 3 kids, 7 moves and a tumultuous physiotherapy career later, and I'm sitting in a village in the UK, trying to figure out how to connect with family and friends back home.
I began to blog.
And I liked it.
Now, if you've stuck with me to this point, you'll know that I have absolutely no fancy computer skills in the blogging department. But for an entire year I filled page after digital page of words, photos, and links. Dunnesinuk was a diary, and a connection to home. My then 92 year old grandmother kept a copy of my posts in a binder at her bedside. I tried to draw a picture of our crazy life, from my youngest's scary night in a Swindon hospital and her first insulin needles, to the Paris Metro, to tea with the Queen. And the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write.
Enter my eldest daughter. This girl eats books. At 9 she had read all seven of the Harry Potter books...five times. Our local British library tried valiantly to keep her in prose, but it wasn't easy. So (cocky me) I decided to write her one. Sure! I could do that! A cinch, really! A little Middle Grade fantasy...a bit of danger, some faeries and elves... why not? In amongst all of the diabetic insanity, military and social engagements, travel, and general family madness, I sat down to write my kids a book.
Well, needless to say, I didn't finish it as soon as I'd hoped. Nope. Another trans-Atlantic move and more of the same slowed me down. But I kept plugging away, feeling a little thrill every time I got my characters through another chapter.
14 long months after I wrote my first words I had a 90,000 word, 330 page first draft in hand. I gave it to my daughter. "Here, Sweetie, try this!"
SHE READ IT IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS.
"Momma, when are you going to write another one?"
Are you KIDDING ME?? It took me 14 friggin' months to write that and you scarf it back in less than a day? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Don't get me wrong, I was elated that she had liked it, read it that fast, and wanted more. But, Holy Cow!
So that was a year ago. I've edited out 20,000 words, and I've gotten my first polite, but firm rejections from publishers. My Twitter education (thank you, Twitter friends!) has taught me that I need a bit more polishing yet, but I wouldn't change a thing. I'm starting the search for an agent. I still love to write. I still love my manuscript. And some day, maybe someday, you'll see my book on the shelf.
Till then, I'll be here, sitting at the computer, with my kids reading over my shoulder...and a smile on my face.
In high school I started to write articles for the school paper, and then for the local newspaper. I penned deep, teenage hormonally-charged poetry and hid it in my closet. I started university with a full scholarship and the conviction that I was going to be a journalist someday. And, yah baby, I was going to change the world.
But then the practical side of me kicked in. I am not a city girl. The glamourous, exciting, adventure-filled life of a prime time news correspondent didn't sit well with my inner chi. So what did I do? I became a military physiotherapist and moved to Ottawa. Not a whole lotta logic there, but it's what I did.
And before I bore you with any more of my life history, we'll skip over about 15 years. One husband, one military release, 3 kids, 7 moves and a tumultuous physiotherapy career later, and I'm sitting in a village in the UK, trying to figure out how to connect with family and friends back home.
I began to blog.
And I liked it.
Now, if you've stuck with me to this point, you'll know that I have absolutely no fancy computer skills in the blogging department. But for an entire year I filled page after digital page of words, photos, and links. Dunnesinuk was a diary, and a connection to home. My then 92 year old grandmother kept a copy of my posts in a binder at her bedside. I tried to draw a picture of our crazy life, from my youngest's scary night in a Swindon hospital and her first insulin needles, to the Paris Metro, to tea with the Queen. And the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write.
Enter my eldest daughter. This girl eats books. At 9 she had read all seven of the Harry Potter books...five times. Our local British library tried valiantly to keep her in prose, but it wasn't easy. So (cocky me) I decided to write her one. Sure! I could do that! A cinch, really! A little Middle Grade fantasy...a bit of danger, some faeries and elves... why not? In amongst all of the diabetic insanity, military and social engagements, travel, and general family madness, I sat down to write my kids a book.
Well, needless to say, I didn't finish it as soon as I'd hoped. Nope. Another trans-Atlantic move and more of the same slowed me down. But I kept plugging away, feeling a little thrill every time I got my characters through another chapter.
14 long months after I wrote my first words I had a 90,000 word, 330 page first draft in hand. I gave it to my daughter. "Here, Sweetie, try this!"
SHE READ IT IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS.
"Momma, when are you going to write another one?"
Are you KIDDING ME?? It took me 14 friggin' months to write that and you scarf it back in less than a day? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Don't get me wrong, I was elated that she had liked it, read it that fast, and wanted more. But, Holy Cow!
So that was a year ago. I've edited out 20,000 words, and I've gotten my first polite, but firm rejections from publishers. My Twitter education (thank you, Twitter friends!) has taught me that I need a bit more polishing yet, but I wouldn't change a thing. I'm starting the search for an agent. I still love to write. I still love my manuscript. And some day, maybe someday, you'll see my book on the shelf.
Till then, I'll be here, sitting at the computer, with my kids reading over my shoulder...and a smile on my face.
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