This Week of Renovating

June 20, 2013 Rebecca Nolen 1 Comment

The other day I was driving West on I-10, my thoughts ranged from the mundane (how was I going to find the time to stain the floors of the Oldcastle house) to the odd (I love renovation. Why didn’t I do this full-time?).

I’ve discovered laying glass tile is a breeze. If they weren’t so expensive I would plaster rooms with them. Rooms! At the Oldcastle house I put glass tile around the bath vanity, including at the floor around the vanity because the hole that we filled in with cement was filled too high to put conventional tile on. So here you see the dark tile around the new vanity.

Sure, I could begin a small renovation business. I had just installed glass tiles and grouted them in the master bath of the house.

They looked perfect. I had designed several of the new elements of the house from the cabinets (wish they were all white, though) and the bathroom vanities. I had added a light where there was none to create a dining room area. It was fun. Just wish I wasn’t using our money to do it. How much more fun would this be if it were someone else’s money? I could do wonders for people looking to change their old and drab bathrooms and kitchens.

We had already been approached by two neighbors who were interested in purchasing the property. So I knew things were going to be okay with it.

We had established that this week we would be putting up a “for sale” sign. Finishing touches, completing the punch list, that’s all we have left.

Then my mother-in-law called. She had blood in her stool A lot of blood. She wanted a ride to the doctors. My husband took her, after a consultation with the doctor, they had her at the hospital in fifteen minutes. Her blood-thinner levels in her blood were at the stage where it was surprising that she had survived. She was bleeding internally. There was fluid around her heart. It didn’t look good.

First night in the ICU she called my husband at 2 AM and told him if he didn’t get down there and get her out he would find a dead mother in the morning. We spent time with her the next few days. Every day and every night it was a new conspiracy theory. For instance the hospital staff was conspiring against her to keep her in bed so they could take more of her money. And the electronics in the room were making the clocks and her watch jump ahead every few hours so that it always looked like 2 AM so she would remain confused. The scary one was that no one was visiting her. And who was I to tell her different? We wouldn’t take the time to come visit. We weren’t caring enough to make sure she was fine. Okay.

My sweet, dear, beloved mother-in-law had gone “around the bend” in a big way.

In order to show her that we cared I resorted to bringing her a pile of get well cards from her loved ones – i.e. all of us – with notes and pictures, vases of flowers (fake because “real ones make me sicker”), photos of us visiting when she was too asleep to know we were there and making her drink water (“I don’t need water. Everyone makes me drink water. It’s just a trick.”)

The renovations and the rest of the world had to come to some sort of agreement with timing.

Last night, after several nearly sleepless nights we figured she was calmer. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that we took the phone away from her. So we planned to sleep. Then the phone rang at 1AM. This time a neighbor across from the Oldcastle house was calling to the report the garage door and front door were open. We asked him to please lock the house up. We rose early to drive over to see what damage had been done. Nothing. Everything was as it had been. Strange.

Then it hit me. I forgot the fundamental rule of property recently abandoned by its occupant.

Change the locks.

This wish for renovation work full-time must have been the thinking of a brain high on paint fumes.

reviews

Two Disappointing Products of Book Churning.

June 12, 2013 Rebecca Nolen Leave a comment

Here it is Wednesday, time for another book review. I’m afraid it isn’t pretty.

Charles Todd has been one of my favorite writers for years. The Ian Rutledge series and the Bess Crawford series are a pleasure to read. At least until Proof of Guilt entered this reader’s world.

An unidentified body turns up in London with a man’s watch that can be identified as having belonged to a wine merchant. The body is a victim of a hit and run but the accident happened elsewhere and the victim moved. And the body is not that of the wine merchant. No, he has disappeared though.

The story shambles all over the place with the lead investigator, Ian Rutledge driving back and forth all over England. There was one exciting part near the end of the book, which I thought would turn the story into a good one, but when the scene was over so was the excitement. I never did figure out the point of the mystery. And where was the missing man? Does this imply that we will see this shadowy figure again, as in a future villain? Or was there no point in his body never turning up?

I am sadly disappointed in all of this. Does it mean we have come to the end of Ian Rutledge as one of the most innovative characters in fiction today? I hope not. I hope this was a bubble in a wonderful series. Perhaps mother and son team Todd’s editor needs to give them a break from this stereotypical churning out of one book a year business.

Another sad entry into this category is my other favorite author’s new book.

Deborah Crombie’s latest is called The Sound of Broken Glass. It isn’t quite as pointless as the above example but there were times while reading it that I thought it could have been about half as long as it was.

For one thing the characters don’t seem to be cohesive to the story until everything is tied up at the end.

A lawyer turns up dead in an odd and disturbing way. He has ties to the world of music. There are some guys in a band. There is one in particular who seems to be a suspect. There are flashbacks in italics to a young boy’s point of view of growing up in Crystal Palace.

I love the setting details and the factual bits about the Crystal Palace at the beginning of each chapter. I love to learn things when I read. Another thing I love about her series of books is the continuing interesting relationship between Duncan and Gemma and their growing family of kids and dogs. This always add such a warm point of human interest you can’t help but love, love, love her books.

But of all her Duncan and Gemma series of books this is the weakest. I really believe this is a result of a constant pressure to produce at least a book a year. That pressure is set up by her editors and agents, probably because of a perceived demand by the public. Sadly, it isn’t unusual. I saw it with the series with Kay Scarpetta written by Patricia Cornwell.

There is a demand by the public! But it will go away if the product isn’t up to the standard set by wonderful previous books.

Home and Family

I Am Tee-Taw

June 8, 2013 Rebecca Nolen 2 Comments

When the grand-girl arrived I was asked what I wanted to be called. My response was “Grandma.” To tell you the truth I don’t actually know any grandmas named ‘Grandma’. So I thought it would be unique. You know what I mean?

I also like “Gamma” as in the MOST powerful ray in the universe. I like the idea of being a powerful force for grandmotherly good. Roight.

My mother is ‘MeeMaw’. The children’s other grandmother is ‘NaNa’. I’ve heard a lot of cutesy grandmother names lately like ‘BeeBee’ or ‘Sugar’ or ‘Sweetie’. I have a friend whose grandkids call her “Ninena” (I spelled it phonetically, I’m sure it is spelled ‘Nina’). My daughter suggested “Banana”. I rejected that right away. Not only is it cutesy but I don’t want to be confused with a fruit.

My beloved grandmother’s name was “Nannie”. There can be no one else like her. My other grandmother’s name was “Grandmother”. We didn’t know her very well. I think sometimes names say it all. “Grandmother” is a bit stand-offish.

It has been a family tradition that the first grand baby names the grandparent.

To the grand-girl I suggested “Grandma”, “Grammy”, or “Grams” to no effect. At twenty months old, the grand-girl was thinking. She can recite her A,B,C’s. She can spell her name. She can count to ten.

I remained nameless.

To be honest this child never ever had to call me anything. I would do anything she indicated with a flick of her tiny wrist.

Then about two weeks ago I heard her practicing something that sounded like “Grandma” only it came out as “NHN-ma” – the first syllable pronounced somewhere inside the upper sinus cavity. (If a kid can do it so can you.) She would spend time by herself in another room saying this over and over. Precious.

Then this past weekend I heard her call me “NeeNaw”. I said, “So I’m NeeNaw?” She said, “Tee-Taw”. I said, “So I’m ‘Tee-Taw’?” She smiled.

So Tee Taw I am. And I’m thrilled to be so named.