Been quiet on posting about the homestead. Between my crazy work schedule this spring and some deep talks this summer, there hasn't been much to post.
We realized when we bought this house that it wasn't our forever home. We started nailing down time frames and items to check off in terms of reselling the house during our talks this summer. It won't be anytime soon, but plans are in motion.
But in the meantime! Our bathroom needs some love.
I like our bathroom in our bedroom. It has two sinks and lots of space. But because the paint is ugly and never seems to stay clean, we decided to try Killz paint.
Ugly brown paint beforehand.
First round of paint. I was using a brush, but the paint has a different texture than other latex paint I've used, so I had to switch to a roller. This will be a slow going process because painting in there requires nearly everything out and some days, when you get home from work, you don't feel like dismantling a whole room.
We also installed drip edge (that we discovered the previous owners removed even thought it was already there?) on the back half of the house (perks of having a BIL who worked in roofing) and I trimmed the branches that were hanging too low. From this shot, I'm looking out onto our street.
Side effects of a summer storm. We also discovered that there was bark in the middle of the limb, showing that it cracked before so it was already weakened.
I rather liked the shade the branch provided too.
Slightly house related, we went through our closets in the past week and this week, I pulled out my fall/winter wear to try everything on and make sure it fit. I actually ended up putting some items in the donate pile and made a short list of a few things I need.
The last round of donating is coming up this week. There have already been two trips to the local thrift store with cars full and this time, it's A Wider Circle that's coming to grab the last of it. It will be nice to use our living room again for something other than storage!
"Wally Lamb wrote, 'God exists in the roundness of things.' As the present becomes the past, I know every summer ends. September is always right around the corner, yet it arrives when we least expect it and are ill-prepared for the changes it brings. We do our best. We fling ourselves into the air and hope to land on solid ground."
Seal Press's latest anthology, "How Does that Make You Feel? True Confessions from both sides of the therapy couch" debuts today and how apt that the above quote was included in one of the essays, "Lies I Told My Therapist" and not just for the month this collection comes out.
Therapy is a risk, for not just those seeking help, but those providing it and such stories are portrayed a plenty. There is the young woman, seeking help despite it being frowned upon in her community to seek the help of white people in Jenine Holmes' essay, "Therapy is for White People." Or those who encounter less than exemplary help or those who would pervert it altogether, as found in Pamela Rafalow Grossman's essay, "With Some Gratitude to My Asshole Former Therapist" who despite being a terrible therapist, ended up helping her nonetheless. Or in Laura Bogart's essay, "My Shrink's Ultimatum," where the author must decide if her therapist's advice is worth following, at the sake of her self preservation.
But this collection also contains small and large beautiful moments of people receiving the help they very desperately need and it's not always the patient. Juli Fraga's essay, "When the Therapist Cries" is a moving piece about patient boundaries and how to navigate them as a human being, let alone a therapist. Or Allison McCarthy's piece, "How About a Hug?" covering similar issues, but from the view of the patient.
At the very core of therapy and counseling and all the other names, it is flawed humans helping flawed humans. Two of the essays in the collection, illustrate this beautifully. In Martha Crawford's, "Back into the Wild", she states
"I wonder about the other creatures-- the ones that were healed and released.....Preserving the calls of the wild for those that are in danger of forgetting. Allowing those who know little of their own animal instinct to listen in a language that they can tolerate."
Therapists bridge the gap as rehabilitated animals from a sanctuary, speaking the tongues of both sides.
And finally, in Megan Devine's "I'm Not the Right One for This Job,"
"In all of it, in everything I do now, I'm speaking from that spot....I don't want that for you. I don't want you to look back and think you lost yourself somewhere. I'm telling you in tenderness because I want that for myself."
A moving anthology showing the rawness and utter mistakes of human life, but realizing life is richer for it.
Photo Credit: Amazon
Disclaimer: A friend is published in this volume and I received a pdf review copy.
In a little less than two weeks, it'll be September. While 2016 was much better to me personally than the last two years, it has fucked the rest of the world with a hot poker and I'm really hoping 2017 will be a kinder year for all.
Unless that rancid Cheeto is elected. Then we are all fucked forever and ever.
But Norristown had what's known as a nuisance property ordinance. Her landlord could be fined and have his rental license suspended if police were called to the property more than three times in four months for "disorderly behavior." Unless, that is, he evicted his tenant.
After that first warning, Briggs — who also had a 3-year-old daughter — was reluctant to call the police when her boyfriend beat her up. But one night, when they got into a fight, he slit her neck open with a broken ashtray. When she woke up in a pool of blood, her first thought was not to dial 911.