Our (old) house, is a very, very, very fine house

It's late and I either have time to blog or time to comment on others, so I will just comment here to them and recap the interesting (to me) thing I did tonight.
First off - Devo: I so agree with you about the royalties in oil country. I would rather have 400 ass nubbins before I'd vote for a conservative, but good on Stalmach for having the balls to give it to the big oil companies with the royalty thing. All these people are whining they will have to leave to make a living? Well, fucking leave then. You can come here. There is such a labor shortage in Saskatchewan, and since 1/2 of the damn trades people are working in Fort Mac but living here. The can just come home full time. Crybabies. Honest to God, Sask. is booming. Do you know my house is worth at least 100,000 dollars more than it was 2 years ago? That's unheard of for these parts. Of course, the election is next week and the writing is on the wall. The Sask. Party, another name for crazy conservatives, will sweep into power. The NDP has been in power for 16 years here, and people want a change. It will be another 1982, when the Tories swept into power and now most of them who were in power have served jail time for fraud. But anyway, I feel sad about the inevitibility that it's going to happen that they sweep into power. I've got my good old NDP sign prominently sitting on my lawn, and when my babies get a little older, I think I'll volunteer with the party. I'm getting more political the older I get. But whatever, it's a losing battle. The Sask. Party wants to be a mini-Alberta. God help us all.
I am afraid nuclear energy is on the agenda with the Sask. Party too. Devo, you speak of alternative energy sources so this will be of interest to you. I am going to order this book, that I read a frightening excerpt from, called "Stupid to the Last Drop: How Alberta is Bringing Environmental Armegeddon to Canada (and Doesn't Seem to Care)."
I'll let you know how scary it is.
On to Chunks - Chunks, darling, it's just been sort of one of those off weeks, hasn't it? I am over sensitive this week, accident prone, and just discumbobulated. You sound the same. If it makes you feel any better, my dishwasher sounds like a runaway train for some reason and my toilet handle has a crack in it and I can't type this week because of my fucked up finger nail. Not sure if I posted when I reached for a razor and it somehow attached itself to my fingernail on my middle finger? Well, where it cut is now growing out and half my nail ripped off and I can't apply pressure without pain. Then tonight, I burned my back so bad. After trick or treating, daddy in law and me took the girls into their hottub, and after I showered off because, well, I don't know, I just did... LOL, when they used chlorine I would shower because my skin don't like the chlorine, but now they use bromine, but I like to rinse off anyway. ANYWAY, their shower in their basement has these knobs I can't figure out which is which and when I was getting out, I turned off the cold but couldn't turn off the hot, and it was cascading down my back and the shower door took that moment to stick on its track so I was burning up like a mofo. Fucking retard, I am.
As for Margo, well, she hasn't updated, so I can't comment to her, so I will just shout out a big hello to my sister from anotha mutha.
My diet is fucked this week. I was doing great and was actually on my way to join the gym last week when ass-nubbin popped out, which has sidelined me, and then this is the third day in a row for halloween candy binges, and now I poured some wine tonight because why the fuck not? Tomorrow is another day, but I will say I think the diet will wait until Friday to start again, because we have too much candy here for me not to eat.
Ok, so tonight - let me tell this fast. We went trick or treating all over - went in the hood for a bit, then got in the car and went to my folks, then to my kids' great grandma's senior's home, and then to my sister's house across the street from the senior's home, and then since I was in the hood already (this is the neat thing), I drove by my old house and pulled up and took the kids there. My old house that I grew up in from age 11 1/2 to 20. So we get to the door, me and the two oldest, and when she gives the candy I say "I grew up in your house!" and she asks me a few questions and then invites me in, and then her hubby is there and they lead me on this tour of the main floor and they were so nice and it was so cool because I have always wanted to go into the house again, and always think of it and dream about it and have this strange attachement to it. I realize there is an "E" in attachment that I need to delete but I don't feel like backspacing. ANYWAY. I realize now that this old house was the house where I have lived the longest in my life. And while I go down memory lane all the time to childhood and B.C., I have the same comfort feelings about that house, even though I do believe it is haunted and even though I spent probably 3 of the most miserable years of my life in that place that I probably need therapy to fully get over. But for better or for worse, it housed me and protected me and was home. Weird, isn't it? When people speak of "home" in the deeper sense, I always refer to the mountains and Chilliwack, but this home is equally "home". Anyway, I feel a lot of comfort in my heart when I think of it, especially at night - so going in there tonight was a trip.
You see, the first time I saw the house, I was appalled. Just completely mortified. This house was built in 1929, so it's old. An old two story in a really old, sort of run down but not really neighborhood. It's on a lot and a 1/2, or an acre, or something - I don't remember the particulars, but it's frigging a huge lot which could be subdivided. But I still remember it all so well, because it was like 26 years ago tomorrow, I think, that we arrived in this town for the very first time. I remember that 26 years ago tonight, I was in Lloydminister handing out candy at my cousin's house, on our move from Chilliwack to here. I know I started school here on November 9th, and I know that we spent over a week in a hotel, so we must have arrived here on the 1st or so. ANYWAY.
I remember us going to see the house, which was owned by the RCMP, since we always lived in RCMP houses. My dad was in charge of 1/2 the province, literally, and since our B.C. house was beautiful, I assumed this one would be as well. Well, we couldn't move in because they were putting in new carpet, or something, which is why we had to live in the hotel. ANYWAY. We get to the house and I am hoping for an old house with an attic, because as you know I have my weird hard-on for attics. There's an attic in the house but not one you can make into anything. No staircase or windows - just an insulation filled space. Strike one.
Anyway, the place looked like shit to me. Main floor was a HUGE rectangle shaped living room off the entry-way - it was huge, hey Margo?
Off of that was a nice sized dining room. There was the odd kitchen with a tiny weird breakfast nook, and a porch. Then a creepy basement, which was haunted. Upstairs was 3 bedrooms with fucked up closet space, a crawl space, and a bathroom so small one had to turn sideways to get to the toilet - you had to squeeze between a post and the sink. There was no shower, just a tub with no enamel, and a big window right in front of the toilet, so when you peed, people 2 towns over could see your dink in all it's glory.
The yard apparently was some sort of orchard in the 30s, and all the chopped down trees left the yard infested with ants.
So, I was mortified with the house, as I was used to my nice bi-levels with 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms.
But as much as I hated living here, and hated my life, and was bullied in school and had no friends and had all of my siblings 2 provinces over, and wanted to run away back to where I was a normal kid, the fucking place grew on me. I grew to like steam heat, and warming my feet on the radiator, as I read a book, or dried clothes on the radiator, or whatever. I quickly learned to appreciate showers and would go out of my way to have a shower whenever I could find one, even risking death from fungus by using the ones in my junior high. I learned to appreciate insulation, as the butter would freeze solid in our cupboards every winter, and learned that even though it felt like a million eyes were burning holes into your back whenever I went downstairs, the spirits there weren't about hurting you.
Then, in grade 9, we painted and wallpapered the place, and it sort of looked cool. In fact, I think it looked fucking classy. Was it, Margo, or was I just delusional? Give me your take on the house.
At the same time, we got a new tub - a long, deep, fiberglass bitch, with a shower. I almost creamed in my jeans when that fucker was operational. I grew to love that house. When my dad retired, he had the option of buying it, or moving. They chose to move - there was too much to be done - the ants in the yard, the old plumbing, the asbestos in the basement needed "abating", wiring, etc. I didn't think I would forgive them but I couldn't say anything, since I was 20 and needed to get my ass out of there anyway and on my own. But it was like selling Southfork. It was home and I loved it. The funny thing is that in my later teens, in grade 9, we had the option of moving out of the town that caused me such heartache and stress and tears. We could have moved to headquarters in Regina and lived on the base. I fought that. We could have moved to Saskatoon and lived next to the university. I fought that. You see, I suddenly came out of it and made a million friends and loved my life finally. So when in grade 12, my dad had the option of going back to Chilliwack, back to the town I mourned for 3 years, I said "go, but I am not coming." They stayed.
Anyway, as you can see, the house meant a lot to me. So tonight, going in there, it was such a relief to see the integrity was still there. The immediate thing that struck me was that the wallpaper in the living room was still up. Remember that sort of salmon colored stuff Margo, with etched flowers or something - a real subtle thing? It's still there. The kitchen cupboards, which I would have assumed would be turfed, were still there. Not repainted, either. The breakfast nook is gone, with a wall knocked out, so that there is just a little bar table and 2 chairs there, which leads to a sitting area with windows, a sunroom, that connects kitchen and dining room, and then, miracle amongst miracles, a BATHROOM off the dining room. Remember where the built in china cabinet was Margo? To the East of it.
Living room was the same, but totally different styles. These people are sort of hippies kinda, and they have a wall of books and tiffany lamps and they ripped all carpets and the whole place is the original hardwood, most in great shape, especially the stairs. The wallpaper going up the stairs is the same, striped, and the pictures on the walls were so familiar going up the stairs I almost said "did we leave those here?". The piece de resistance is the bathroom. They tore out the crawlspace and made the bathroom bigger because this guy is tall and he said he couldn't use the toilet because the ceiling angle thingy was too low. Anyway, there is a window where the crawl space was, and the bathroom is a sink when you walk in, I think the original sink and vanity (which brought to mind a dirty memory which I just can't share with you all right now... LOL, long story), and then right next to it a clawfoot tub, and then the toilet in the same spot, and a shower in the space where the tub was. The spare room is bigger because of no crawspace, and has a window on that side too, and my room is really small when I look at it, and they use it as a craft room where the woman has a loom. Or loomb. How do you spell loom?
Anyway, he said it made their night to show me the house and for me, it made my year. I said my sister really wants to see it too and he said just to call. I wonder if we'll get the balls to actually do it.
So a shout out to Roger and Sheila for showing me your house. I am so thankful. I am glad you love it as much as I did and look after it so well. I know the spirits in the basement bless you.
Anyway, I've had like probably the equivelent of 3 glasses of wine tonight, so while I don't even feel a buzz, I know the wine headache will kick my fat ass in 7 hours, so I am going to go shovel in a handful of candy and finish watching this annoying episode of Buy Me and then dream of my old house. I hope you all had a lovely Halloween, free of Jaime Lee Curtis movie murderers and such.
I also remember that 20 years ago, I was with these people I didn't usually hang out with and smoked a big old doobie with them and got freaked out because Luba's "Break Free" anti-smoking commerical was on the radio, but instead of the 20 second dealie, it was like a full 3 minute song, and someone said 'hey, it's the extended remix" and I found that so funny I was worried I would throw up a lung because I couldn't breathe through the laughter. Good times...
xo