Snow days and cancelled visits

Wednesday, March 1, 2023

I drove up to Chilliwack on Sunday evening and have hung out with Mom this week. What a special time. 

If you like winter, you'd love the weather. I don't. It's viciously cold and wet. Mom finds 2 flaxseed pillows that I can microwave to warm up the sheets at night. She cranks up her heating pad to soothe aching joints before falling asleep.

I should probably have stayed in bed but can't bear the thought of not seeing my mom. My lungs burn and my throat is raw all week. W feels about the same, one day ahead of me. He flies to a conference in Missouri and comes home late Wednesday. My plans for meetings and calls to friend and relatives get cancelled. I don't go on a walk the whole time.

Besides work online, I run a few errands, cook some meals, and enjoy good company: my mom is the best. Between hot tea and Buckey's cough drops, I manage to croak out four videos for March. I have to write month-end newsletters, connect faculty friends to potential jobs, and stay abreast of the deluge of social media. Only conversation engages my sore throat.

Thursday - March 3, Auntie Molly's birthday

I have an uneventful drive back to Seattle in the late morning. I arrive in mid-afternoon to howdy with W, who is off to Vancouver to see his family tomorrow. If I had been able to return last night, I would have accompanied him. More than anything, we need to recuperate before heading back to Indonesia soon.

It's the day I remember my Auntie Molly, Mom's oldest sister and the source of our daughter's second name Amalie. It would have been her 93rd birthday. (Our son has Uncle Erich's name.) My auntie has been gone for decades. Her love and kindness to everyone left a legacy of wide influence. I post her picture on FB and hear from others with similar fond memories.

There's just enough time to start my laundry and scrub in the damp cave of a shower. There is no window beside the sink to let light flow throughout the little bathroom. The plumbing is on the wrong wall so you dodge the shower head as you get in - or hit your head on it. There's no ledge to perch on and you can't lean out of the water flow for shaving. It's small and barely functional.

Why? Instead of following the plan and using materials provided, the plumber did his own thing. I walked into the room mid-way and asked what he was doing. He insisted he had a better idea and had spoken to W about the changes. What could I say?

W was teaching. When he got my call a few hours later, the plumbing was stacked and the wall was framed in. It was the first W had heard about it. We couldn't afford the added fee the plumber said he had to charge to rip it out and start over. 10 years later, I marvel how someone's laziness still - - - - .

Before I edge into the shower, I adjust the mirrors on the wall cabinet to maximize reflected light. I brace myself as I pull shut the shower curtain; it feels like a dark little prison cell. It's a jolt if I'm not prepared. For a visual person, it's the equivalent of a musician hearing the same long screech of a violin or a trumpet blast that lands flat when a song comes on. It doesn't get better with time.

Getting out feels like a lucky escape. I hang up the bathmat and towel and hurry out of the bathroom. A 4:00 Zoom meeting cheers me up. Our plans to meet in person fell through, so hurrah for technology.

In the evening, I meet an advisor online. She's a grad student so she is learning the latest techniques of care. I make notes as Nancy asks thought-provoking questions. She leaves me with an assignment, to ask myself: "What will you have to leave behind if you choose (one plan or another for the future)?" We schedule next month's appointment. I'm looking forward to it already.

Friday

W heads out early, driving to Canada for business and to see his family. I warm up my hot water bottle a few times, grab a blanket, and stay in.

The grandkids come downstairs to say hello. Their day is busy while mine has only a few meetings. I enjoy music drifting through the floorboards from upstairs: Melissa and a worship team are preparing to lead a retreat. It's refreshing to listen.

Melissa makes a delicious supper - that sweet woman can COOK! Her family is blessed with healthy food every day.

Saturday

Yay - feeling better today. It will be a cleaning day; my energy is coming back! Our flat gets gritty and dusty when we're gone - there's no escaping from the damp cloths needed to wash the floor and ledges. I move charcoal sketches and monoprints. It's odd to see what was made long ago in class or at art demonstrations (Daniel Smith store, since closed).

Below, a school assignment on a full sheet of newsprint. The prof's instructions: "Bring a self-portrait to next class." Needless to say, everything was "quick quick" with no time to refine, even if I had known what I was doing (which I didn't). I hated the scraping of charcoal on rough paper and never worked with it again.

The kids asks about charcoal, seeing the sketch. I let them smear it around a box lid. "Ugh. Messy," is the consensus.

Picture frames and boxes of supplies? Yup, those need attention, too. Bookshelves and corners? oh my.

Nothing is precious or particularly well done. We were learning "in-the-moment" so stuff has happy memories attached. I've tossed or given most of that season's "play" away. This assignment, "Paint a full-sized head along with another item" was acrylic on cheap foam core. 

One corner got scrunched. I popped it in a second-hand frame and kept it around because I like the loose brushstrokes in the center of the 14" flower.

I pull out the vacuum cleaner to suck up dust bunnies in the corners our Roomba can't reach. I clear away items that don't belong in my office: 2 Pack-and-Play cribs that have outlived their usefulness, media speakers, and piles of paper receipts.

W returns in the afternoon. This has been the weirdest trip ever. The many partners and friends we planned to call and visit? We have wait until next time to connect. The kids come down to play and say hi. That's the best kind of company!

Meanwhile, at our home friends stay over to watch it while we're gone. I miss my Bandung garden amid the bare tree trunks and grey skies of the West Coast.

Sunday

Did I get 5 hours sleep between 8pm and 9am? (I need 6 to function.) W wakes me for church. Being roused from a dead sleep puts a stop to the idea of further rest. He leaves me at the flat with a headache. I was looking forward to this morning so much ... W eats at the hall while I indulge in Pho (fast food DIY), which soothes my throat.

My cough kicks back in on a call with my mom. "Rest your voice," she urges while asking me questions. She's had a rough night as well.

I toss the spent flower arrangements into the woods behind the house and pull out two suitcases. I have to decide what to haul home. Expats lug home strange things: paper lunch plates = too much plastic garbage in Indonesia! A colander for draining big pots of spaghetti at movie night. Christmas ornament hooks for an Easter art station. Silicone zip-bags for the kitchen. Sleep chocolates for a friend and myself. Some study books. Buckley's throat lozenges  ...

My luggage is full or at maximum weight. W crams chocolate bars into his suitcase. I chug tall cups of tea to warm up and ease the cough. 

We enjoy a family supper, calling the two kids who are far away while we sit at the table. Melissa's been amazing in preparing a hospitable place to eat together. After supper, she treats me to an early birthday present: an hour at Joy Spa. It's pure luxury.

The manager Sarah remembers me from years ago. She also remembers how W would drop me off, hated massages, and would read on his phone if he had to wait.

Monday

W and I run the last few errands. I check off the list and wonder how we'll get it all back. Somehow it sorts itself out every time. W notes: "This time was odd. We did nothing but absolute essentials, saw almost no one, and are going back already. It's not what we hoped or planned."

Our big treat is having the grandkids down for games and supper. The big hit is a game Opa brought along "Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza" which the kids excel at.

We spot a series of animal puzzles in a tool shop. At $1.50 each, they're a bargain of busyness.

It's fun to see how persistent the kids are - their personalities come out in how they follow instructions, their patience, and their skills. A very cool way for Oma and Opa to get to know them since we live so far away.

This is what we miss most: time together. We miss watching them grow up. Watching them work and play. We love these kiddos!

Tuesday

The older two grands sleep over and stay for breakfast waffles.

It's time to fly home. We pack, do laundry and last-minutes chores like washing the car to return it to Cedar Park Church. (What a great loaner.)

For lunch, I heat up the Pho Than Brothers leftovers from yesterday. SO delicious. The soup soothes the throat and tastes yummy.

Read more:

*The promises of the Lord are promises that are pure, silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times. Psalm 12:6

The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. John 6:63

Moravian Prayer: Living Fire, from you comes our life, new each day. Refine us to be better tools for your work. Burn away what stands in the way of your work. Bring the warmth of new life. Open us to your work within us and among us. Amen.