Life's a Stitch

You don't get those in retirement because technically, every day is a day off. But we found ourselves engulfed in long days of unpacking and organizing, many looonnng days in a row. It was time for a badly needed day off. 

We started with a walk, the short way to the beach, the steep way. Our neighbourhood has beautiful gardens and the roses were in full bloom.

Our expectations were as low as the tide, preferring to walk the beach when the water is deep and the waves rough. Avoiding the beach at low tide is a mistake. There were lots of shells, pretty patterns in the sand and interesting bird activity. We gained a new perspective away from the train tracks and sidewalk. 

On the seawall was a landscaper with a sense of humour, displaying his stuffy with a pink cowgirl hat after parking his trailer. I'll include a photo lest your imagination wander to darker regions.

Totem Park was gleaming in the sunshine.

"The City of White Rock, White Rock RCMP Detachment and Semiahmoo First Nation have had a long-standing relationship based on mutual respect. In fact, in 1999, two totem poles were raised on East Beach, at Totem Park as a sign of working towards reconciliation, understanding and mutual respect, and a shared responsibility for maintaining relationships."

Hearing the squwalking of birds we watched a crow taunting two bald eagles in a tall tree. Better still, was the circumscribed halo around the sun. If you look carefully in area where there's a gap in the branches near the top right of the tree, you can see the eagles.

About a mile and a half down the beach we turned upward and over, heading back to the house, when we ran into our daughter's mother-in-law, who lives nearby. We've been meaning to call them, but have been mired in the mayhem of moving. It was fun to show her the house on a beautiful afternoon. Couldn't have planned it any better.

The first time C lost his wedding ring, it wasn't a big deal. It was six months after the fact and we had bought the cheapest gold band possible, anticipating a time when we could find something he really wanted. It took him 20 years. On that special anniversary, we agreed no gifts. He surprised me with one of those sets of Matryoshka-like boxes in a box, each one diminishing in size. In the last one was a wedding ring. For him. Sweet man, he knew it bugged me that it took 19.5 years to replace the first one. This one was (was is the key word) a double eagle design in yellow gold, carved by a Squamish band artist.

Two decades later, the second time C lost his wedding ring, it was more painful for both of us. It started out as a real treasure hunt for me, a combination of geocaching and mushrooming on one of my favourite lakeside trails.

Back up a day. Having lunch with friends we noticed C "wearing" his ring on his pinkie. You see, it had become bent out of shape carrying boxes during our move. Two of us mentioned "you're going to lose that ring." Was it prophesy or, as an former coworker used to say, tempting the devil? Because sure enough, when we arrived home the next day, he noticed the absence of gold on his hand. 

He was sure it happened while I was geocaching and he went ahead to raid a patch of wood ear mushrooms we had noticed along the trail.

While searching he stepped in a soft patch of muck from an underground spring, and while extending his hand for balance, it, too, became sucked up to his elbow by mud. That's where, he figured, he lost the ring. When he went back to look, he triggered a mini mudslide, inadvertently committing his gold deeper into the earth.

While checking our "lost" ad on Craig's List I noticed a posting for The Ring Finders – Metal Detecting Service. How cool is that? Right up my geocaching, mushrooming aka treasure hunting alley. On the phone with Bill, he explained that the ground is constantly shifting, and the sooner you search, the higher the success rate. That meant that the ring could be deeper yet into the mire. So when we met with him and his wife, Laura, it was almost three weeks after the fact. We signed the contract, specifying the reward we'd offer if the ring was found. 

We asked the usual newbie metal detecting question:

What was your most interesting find?

A load (or would that be lode) of silver, in the form of bars, that a guy had buried in the forest many years prior, the spot marked with a piece of concrete. Turns out his second wife buried a pet possum in the woods and noticed an odd piece of concrete on the ground and placed it to mark the grave. Oopsie, she was unaware of the intent rock's original position. 

Bill told us of a very common scenario, the ring chucked in anger. Laura confirmed, you would not believe how many of those calls they get. He does his best to re-enact the scene for an accurate search, giving the person a fake ring to throw in anger, just as they did the first time, and scanning the area where it lands.

We gave it our best efforts, C digging shovels full of heavy wet claylike soil, Bill scanning the ground, me cheering them on. They checked the lake where C washed the mud from his hands, to no avail.

That ring is truly recommitted to the earth. So we gave Bill a contribution for his effort and accepted that it was a lost cause. Insult to injury: I burnt the mushrooms while dehydrating them. Many lessons learned that day.

 

 

 

We did it, 621 days after moving out of the house in the rain forest, and after 352 days of demolition and reconstruction, we've received our official occupancy permit. The only stipulation is the requirement for a front door peephole or security camera. I appreciate the intent, but when did that become building code?

The sky is so big from the upper level family room and deck, it takes my breath away: 

My second favourite room:

Look carefully – we found a home for my Scottie collection, visible from both inside and out. The parade will continue across the three windowsills on that level: 

The interior rock and cedar wall mirrors the outside of the house, both Chuck's design.

Although we have a lot of work ahead of us unpacking and organizing, it feels wonderful (I'll let you know if that gets tempered after the final bills are in), but we're most grateful that we had the opportunity to land in the town of our dreams. We're taking reservations for visitors.

 

 

Renovations require decisions based on tiny samples. Think little squares of counter tops, paint chips and rectangles of flooring. In our case it all worked out…except for the main floor powder room. The one most used by visitors. I was expecting a black background with random sparkly bits, but there were random miscommunications in this project, this one more notable than others.

It looks to me like black and grey speckled rock with hints of rust, splattered by a passing seagull. Quite appropriate, though, for a beach community. My daughter told me it didn’t look too bad in general, but the white splotches looked like toothpaste spit. Lovely.

Where we really did well countertop wise, is in our walk-out basement suite. Despite discouragement from our builder, we reused the houses’s original kitchen cabinets along with its blue pearl granite counters. The island is on casters for the option of instantly changing the kitchen layout.

Those counters successfully survived removal, multiple relocations including a stint outside in the dead of winter, and recutting. Reusing them cost less than installing Formica. Wish there had been enough for the powder room.

Personalities come through with the pressure of a move. C’s full of dread and terror accompanied by my optimism. For awhile, anyway. The morning started with dropping him off at storage to get things organized for the movers.

Can you imagine, this was the third time in twenty months that we’ve hired movers. First from the rain forest to our new community in White Rock, then moving our stuff into storage in time for our renovation. Now, eleven months later, back into the house.

I was feeling fine until the movers called in late and I realized Mr. C was without his phone. That’s when my panic set in, compounded by an army of last minute house workers taking up space that the movers required.

This story follows the formula for a screenplay. The set up and conflict part anyway. We’ll see how the resolution goes. You’ve read the set up. Now for the conflict: Although we had permission to move our household goods in, we are not permitted to stay in our almost totally renovated home. You see, based on a small gutter/drainage issue over two 18” side entry overhangs, and one misfitting glass deck panel, our house failed final inspection.

We weren’t going to let that set us back move-in wise, considering daughter M and KC came to help us from Calgary. All our stuff is in the house, hardly any of it unpacked, and as far as living there, we're on hold.

Here are the latest before and after pictures.

Can't believe it's the same house. I'm anxious to have it all done. I bet you are, too. And for those who are in the betting pool, April is now out, May and beyond are still possibilities. Dennis L, you still have a chance for June!

My lastest watercolour dog portrait is a 60th birthday gift for my sister. Her name and “60” are hidden in the blanket pattern. 

Her kids benefited from Mom’s 60th, too, as I had professional prints made for them. 

 

That’s how long it’s been sine we left our house in the rain forest. How do I know this? Every time I open my laptop it tells me how many days it’s been since its last backup. Fortunately there’s nothing crucial on there and the day count is coming to an end. Yes, the house is nearing completion.

Some people told us we were crazy, choosing a house requiring a total rebuild, with the overwhelming amount of requisite decision making. Right off the top of my head I can come up with many:  heating systems, lighting, plumbing fixtures, appliances, cabinets, flooring, doorknobs, cabinet pulls, towel bars, ceramic tile, siding, windows, countertops, closet shelving…but the one that caused the most anguish? The decision that produced the most hours of sleeplessness? 

Interior paint colours. It was a combination of too many choices and approaching a near breaking point with so many concurrent decisions. Further pressure was self imposed, not wanting the very common generic house tones of whites, light greys and beiges.

Reality check: paint is not permanent and this is, like all the rest, a first world problem.

Here is is, the official interior colour palette, minus a couple of vanities and the bathroom ceramic tiles.

With the current application of paint it looks as though the day count might max out prior to hitting 600.

Update: We did it! Move in date scheduled for day #592. 

"When I'm 64" and "They Say It's Your Birthday." There's only one year that both songs are relevant for anyone, and this Ides of March was the one for me. Thank you to all who communicated in the variety of ways available these days, so appreciated. 

64 is good, it's the countdown to 65, when in Canada, you become eligible for your Old Age Security benefit. They have to do something about that name. Unlike in the US, government benefits for seniors are split in two: Canada Pension Plan based on earnings, eligibility starting as early as age 60, and the Old Age Security, a universal benefit regardless of employment history. It's like getting a raise in retirement.

Dinner was with Blogless Marsha and Dave on a beautiful evening on the bay. We caught the early bird special at a local seafood restaurant, four courses for $24.99, followed by the three of them indulging me in evening geocaching.

That's what birthdays are for. It was also an opportunity for some nice phone shots over the harbour. These will morph into paintings as they fit in with my love of dark watercolours. 

 

If you google weathervane, the likely candidate to sit on top of one is a rooster. I found it unnerving to see one with a gun on top near us at our temporary place in in the US. When the wind is right it's aimed right at you. This is a photo of a similar one, didn't want to ruffle any neighbourhood feathers:

Should armed and fabulous be in the same sentence:

I know. If I don't like it I don't have to shop there. Enough said.

 

A few of my favourite things, HI continued:

You know what I'm going to say…a few more of my favourite things to do: hiking, geocaching and painting. Especially on a tropical isle.

Blogless Marsha's David took us on a "walk" in the neighbourhood where we were staying. The destination was the Queen's Bath and, bonus, it has an earthcache. Sounds innocent enough, a crystal clear natural pool along the shore, you can swim with tiny tropical fish and gentle sea turtles and get credit for a geocache.  Except in winter.

The walk down was treacherous, but I was well equipped with hiking sticks and appropriate shoes. Brand new shoes with bits of white on them. Kauai is known for their red dirt that is so colourfast, they sell famous t-shirts dyed in it. Get any  mud on your clothes, or new shoes, and accept the new colour pattern as your Kauaiian souvenir. 

As we approached the bottom we saw this sign with over 30 notches in it:

The rest of the way to the bath was over my favourite Hawaiian hiking surface, igneous lava rock. Remember when I had face-to-rock contact a number of years back, while geocaching on Maui? My Maui Owie. The lava always wins, said the doctor while stitching me up.

I continued with huge respect for the terrain, like walking on rock made of wet shards of glass. I know there's a pool here somewhere. 

We were later informed, by a local in-the-know, that the Queen's Bath is far too dangerous in the winter, rogue waves happening every couple of hours. Ignorance is bliss. We saw others hiking down in flip flops, carrying beer and a mug of coffee! Click here to see what it looks like in the summer.

Can't go away without some art supplies, resulting in two paintings. One was from an online still life tutorial and the other a hibiscus we passed on one of our walks, glistening with rain drops. 

Next post from "home."