The Royal Flush-- Priceless

Perhaps everyone won't find this topic tasteful. I know I certainly don't. For my faithful readers -- both of you -- you know that we recently moved into our beautiful 1920's cottage. The historical architecture of our home has been really carefully maintained -- or in spaces restored. I love this about the space -- mostly. The upstairs family bath -- which initially was the only bath -- still sports its original tub -- tile -- medicine cabinet -- flooring -- and possibly sink. A previous owner told us that he had a nice vanity installed there. The most recent owner found the old sink hanging on a wall in the basement and hauled it upstairs to "return to the era". Yep, hot water on one side, cold on the other. If you wish to wash with warm water, you must swish your hands back and forth very quickly between the spigots. However interesting that tidbit about the sink maybe, it is really merely background to my story. The old water closet also still offers the original toilet! Talk about an amazing antique! This puppy was top of the line back in 1924 -- a Saneto Crane air toilet! Because early indoor plumbing lacked a vertical venting system, this toilet has it's own personal vent. The water enters the tank from the wall -- at about 4 feet off of the floor. The vent sits behind the toilet -- beneath the tank -- about the same height as the toilet seat. The drain sits slightly forward of the modern space

Being a bit of a retro fan, I don't mind the antique bathroom. Besides, I have a beautiful master bath with jetted garden tub and separate shower, modern toilet, and double vanity. I don't even use the "family bath". My boys use it. Did I mention that the original tile is pink? I try to describe it as "salmon." The guys call it the Barbie bathroom. They also don't like to clean it.

Upon first moving in, I discovered something icky growing in the bottom of the antique toilet bowl. The plumber diagnosed this problem as lime. No, I didn't call the plumber because of the gray film growing down the drain. I know to call the Tidy Bowl man for that kind of problem. Unfortunately, about the time I tackled the icky growth, I discovered that the toilet was actually leaking. For this, we called the plumber.

Washington Avenue is famous in Oshkosh as the historic street. The guy who owns the plumbing company lives down the street from us. His employee came in -- took one look at the toilet and said, "hm". He should have said "h$m". He almost immediately assessed the problem --diagnosed where the crack was and called to check if they had the parts in stock. After making a few calls -- he announced that this would be a 4 hour job -- and would run in excess of $500.00. Yep -- you are reading that correctly -- $500.00. And your mind went in an entirely different direction when I announced that my topic might be in poor taste!

$619.00 was the final total -- speaking of obscene! I am happy to say that the home warranty covered a majority -- but not quite all of the bill for fixing the primitive potty! We did get to "donate" toward the cause from our own pocket as well.

Perhaps you are thinking -- good grief -- why didn't you just buy a new potty with a retro look to it? -- and saved some $$ ? -- Good question! -- Remember when I carefully described my antique potty. Remember how I explained the location of the water line -- where the drain sits -- the vent spot? Right. To replace the poor ol' potty with a new one would require major demo, and re-plumbing, re-plastering, re-painting -- to the tune of approximately $1500! Makes the repair bill sound better doesn't it?

To be fair, I can't say that we flushed money down the toilet because the toilet is repaired! It no longer leaks! We're sitting pretty! Now if I could just get those boys to clean the bathroom consistently!

Breaking New Grounds

My summer included three grown-up moments – of which I am naturally quite proud. One of these moments was at the local coffee shop. Down the street from us – where Washington crosses Main – stands a very happening place– The New Moon Café. I drive past this café daily on my way to work – and frequently on my way to other important places. Even from outside, I can see how hip it is. Hipness just oozes out the windows and doors – trust me. I always wanted to visit. But - -not being a coffee drinker, I knew that this was not the place for me. I would be an outsider. And goodness knows, as often as I move – I am certainly well versed in the world of outsider-ness – and am not purposefully looking for additional worlds in which to experience that! But – still the siren song of the little café on the corner continued to call to me each time I passed. One day, we acquired coupons for free coffees at The New Moon. I could hardly pass up free! I love free! After holding onto the coupons for about 5 months, John and I finally decided to visit. I guess we were just feeling bold.

Unbeknownst to us, Saturday evening must be “live music” night there. The night we visited, they were featuring something groovy from the dark side. We figured that out upon entering and realizing that we were the only people there without tattoos. Thinking quickly, I whipped out a Sharpie and wrote “I love mom” on John’s arm and drew a daisy on my ankle. We advanced to the counter – nervous because, well -- neither of us EVER, EVER drinks coffee. I actually have never had a cup – or even a sip of real coffee. We hoped we might be able to trade the coupons in for juice or something. No deal. And then something wonderful happened – the coffee girl looked deep into my soul and understood me. (Maybe it had something to do w/the daisy on my ankle.) She made me a chocolate-caramel-steamer. She put it in a real disposable coffee cup – added whip cream and put on the special white coffee cup lid. I stood there – sporting my daisy tattoo – holding my first real grown-up coffee cup. John and I found seats in shadows – along the back of the space – interlopers still. My beverage was delicious! I felt John should take my picture – wanting to capture forever that “first” in my life. Me, with my official coffee cup in hand – sitting in the café – with all of the hip coffee people milling about in the background.

Before we left, I felt I should specifically thank the coffee girl. After all, she had shared this milestone with me. We were connected in an intricate, important way. She, too, was thrilled with the moment and presented me with a coffee punch card, -- my first! – and generously punched four holes into it!

I left knowing I would never be the same – knowing from then on I could finally accept invitations to go to coffee – knowing I could confidently approach the counter – barking out my order “chocolate caramel steamer!” – knowing I would never again be an outsider in the coffee club! John had to wear a long sleeve shirt to church the next day – that Sharpie is really hard to wash off!

Wildlife Preserve

Following in the footsteps of my great blogger role model, Mindi Wood (check out MindiandIan.blogspot.com) I apparently don’t blog in April either. In April I hauled all my junk two blocks down the street to my new house. I am elated about my new place, and am happy to be technically “moved in”. I thought I might blog about it, but find I can’t. I don’t want to think about it – or talk about it – or write about it. I kind of just hope to live in this beautiful house until I pass from this life. I don’t want even to say the “M” word ever again!

Instead, I will write about our new nature preserve here. When the inspector was going over the report before we closed on the property, he mentioned – almost off-handedly – that he had found a nest in the attic. A nest? A bees nest? What kind of nest? He hesitantly told us that it wasn’t a hive – but he didn’t know exactly what it was. We pressed him for more details. A bird’s nest? He continued to be evasive. Not exactly a bird’s nest, he thought. He couldn’t gage how old the next might be – might not actually be active. He finally reported that it was rather large. Large? Like how large? “Oh, I’d say, fairly good-sized.” ?????? “Um, maybe about 3 feet high.”

Three feet high!?!?!?!?! I nearly fell off of my chair! A 3 foot tall nest of unidentified inhabitants was in the attic of the house I was buying?!? Needless to say, we wrote an addendum to the sale agreement stating that the nest needed to be removed, point of entry determined and sealed.

Later I looked on line – trying to find pictures of a squirrel’s nest or raccoon’s nest. What makes a three foot high nest of twigs and dead grass?

Starlings!!! Starlings will build huge nests and return year after year. I’d prefer a huge bird nest in my attic to a raccoon nest any day – but was still happy that the sellers had the thing removed.

Since moving in, we can hear baby birds chirping in the vent of the bathroom fan. This is actually in an addition – different part of the roof. These are some really verbose little chirpers! (They might be Davises!) Then I saw the momma bird fly into the vent on the front of the roof. We’ve been living here for 3 weeks and continue to hear the chirps – but lately, I’ve heard a lot of noise – like we had some sort of fowl grand central station in our fan vent – or maybe there was an entire bird apartment complex in there.

Today, I saw the hugest baby birds sitting in the bush outside the sunroom. They were 2 feet from the window and oblivious to my staring at them. They would hop, but couldn’t fly. Oddly enough, despite his enormous size, one little fellow had his baby feathers still sticking off of his head – like a 40 year old man in a baby bonnet.

A friend reported that while the babies weren’t ready to fly yet, the parents would continue to hover in the area and would feed them until they can take off. (Kind of like parents supporting adult children who live in the basement and play video games all day.) When John came home, he had to walk around to the back door so he didn't disturb the two birdies sitting on the front porch.

While I don’t really want them nesting in my attic – or bathroom vent, I don’t really want a neighbor’s cat to get them before they learn to fly, either. Good luck, little birdies! Bravo, Momma Birdie, for a job well done. And next year, you’ll be house hunting because we are going to put a wire mesh over our fan vent! I respect wildlife – and expect them to respect me – and my property!

Now about the mouse poison the previous owners left in the basement – what’s that all about anyway?

And the pony’s name is -- #50!

As you may already know, I moved to Oshkosh, WI, in August of 2009. Since then we have been living in a rented house on a beautiful historic street near the downtown area. This turn-of-the-century beauty (built in 1907), retains most of its original woodwork, offers updated baths and kitchen, and sports a beautifully finished third floor with guest rooms and bath.

In January, our landlords decided to re-list their property. That’s right – I have been cleaning this rental (all 3000 sq. ft. of it) for showings so that the landlords can sell it out from underneath me. And I apparently have done an awesome job – since the landlords have accepted an offer on it in the last week. (In all fairness, I need to explain that we really like our landlords and completely understand their definite need to sell the property. We are excited for them to have received an offer and hope their sale will quickly be completed.) So – knowing since January that our days in our beautiful rental were numbered, we have begun to hunt in earnest for a home to buy. At some point a couple of weeks ago, I counted up all of the real estate sheets I have from properties we had viewed. Thirty-nine! We had traipsed through 39 houses – dragging our lovely realtor Sheri through a majority of them with us. We saw the good, the bad, the ugly. We saw bad paint, stained carpet, and ugly wall paper. We saw strange furnishings, little yards, old cupboards – weird floor plans, dated fixtures. We saw dirty kitchens, piled clutter, water damage, cramped spaces, damp basements.

The strangest phenomenon: the Oshkosh Outies (as my realtor named them). Nearly every older house in town (including our fancy rental) possesses a potty in the basement. I don’t mean a bathroom in the basement. I mean a toilet. Just a toilet – stuck here and there – next to the furnace, under the stairs, barely enclosed, entirely exposed. Occasionally we found one accompanied by a nasty shower – but seldom by a sink. One seasoned realtor told us that many of the houses were built in stages among friends. The locals started with a basement and lived in it until they could afford to build more house. From the looks of things, once they built the rest of the house – the ignominious basement potty was mostly abandoned – and never cleaned again.

House #40 had borrowed space for the second bath from the middle of the family room. Now, I confess I really had my heart set on the second bath – but not there! Another property (I forget which #) had it’s second bath right beside the kitchen table. – “Excuse me, Aunt Erma, could you please scoot your chair into the table a little so that I could squeeze behind you and open the door? I really need to go! Sure, go ahead with your story. I can still hear you!” Can you hear me?

By the time we hit houses #41 -- #46, we were branching out to the west side of town. Then someone mentioned upcoming road construction scheduled for a major intersection between the west side and our places of employ. We checked the city website. Sure enough – the project is scheduled to take the next 5 years! Given our track record, as many of you know – re-doing that intersection could last longer that our entire stint here in town!

At one point, I looked at John and stated randomly: “there’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!” We had certainly looked at lots of manure!

Then about 2 weeks ago, I found a new listing on realtor.com – a house down my very own street! – a house I have walked past nearly every day that I have lived in Oshkosh, -- a house I have repeatedly admired. House #50!!! We saw it before the sign hit the front yard. Although our offer was significantly less than they had wanted, the owners couldn’t argue with a clean offer from people who didn’t need to sell a house. It had been on the market for a week when they accepted our offer. We gain possession on April 30^th! We feel so thankful to God for blessing us with this amazing property.

House # 50 was built in 1924 by the Carver family – owners of a local ice cream parlor! Imagine living in a house built during the roaring 20’s with ice cream money!!! It is completely updated, yet historically preserved – utterly charming. It has nooks and crannies, shutters and hardwood, roof angles and chandeliers. And – it has a potty in a little room in the basement – complete with an antique crystal light fixture – a window – no door – and, of course, no sink!

Ephesians 3:20-23 (New International Version)

²⁰Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

January < February

Back at Christmas I agreed to write a blog. Mindi Wood (blogger extraordinaire and also my niece) started with the goal of writing one each month. Sounds like a great plan. I am already one month behind – but I hate to let a little thing like that stop me. February is a great month to start something new. What makes January so much better than February anyway, huh?

In writing this, I must address a few concerns – not necessarily with my readers – but with myself. I need to set a limit on the number of times I re-write my posts. I am a tweaker. I have been known to even rewrite and edit my facebook status. I am currently resisting the urge to go back to correct the split infinitive in the previous sentence. Split infinitives, repetitive words, mis-placed or weak modifiers – these things could sink this blog long before it ever hits cyberspace. Do they still call it that? – or is there a newer name for that region?

I also worry about writing something that will at some point in some place offend some person. I think of Mindi having to blur out the name of the Mary Kay rep on the business card. Maybe I need to send my rough drafts to Ian for proper political and ethical filtering.

I worry Mr. Redmond will read this blog and suffer grave disappointment.

Perhaps most importantly, I worry that I won’t be funny. Sadly, I realize before ever beginning that I will never write things half as funny as Mindi Wood – my personal blog idol. I have decided that the next best thing to being extraordinary or interesting oneself is to be related to extraordinary or interesting people. I have actually had people ask me to tell them a story about Mindi – or about Uncle Jimmy. I am just pleased to have the honor of repeating their stories.

There are some things I do not worry about – about which I do not worry. I don’t worry about thinking of things to write about. I have actually even written articles and a blog post when I didn’t have a blog. I will find and post that article now that I have a “stage” for it. I am pretty sure there must be something else I don’t worry about – but I don’t remember what it is right now.

Okay, I am going to try to post this without further tweaking. I hope I am able to do this by myself because Dwight is already in bed and Woody is in the shower. I am writing in Word rather than directly on the blog.