And we're back

Summer is a wonderful, magical time. The days seem endless; the skies bright and blue; and we allow ourselves to believe that things can be forgotten for a few weeks; that 'normal' life can be paused while we relax and unwind for awhile. Children can do this with ease, forgetting all about the lessons and classwork they just completed moments before bursting through the schools doors for the final time. Adults need more time to adjust to personal freedom and relaxed demands on their time. Many find they don't adjust well to non structured lives though they'll not admit it. Many more find that after enough time has passed they can indeed slow down and begin to enjoy the finer more subtle things that life has placed around them - but after those few weeks of time off its back to familiar routines and all that progress is forgotten.

It's turned fall here again, and we find ourselves astonished that summer seems to have vanished so quickly once more, if it really ever came at all. It did of course - we had heat and sunshine this year and enjoyed the days we were given, in between the necessary rains and required irritants like mosquitoes and early morning lawn mowers - but as the calendar turns again those days are memories now, distant reminders that things change and move on. The gardens are pulled, the flowers long past their prime have been trimmed back or pruned away. The pools have been drained and scrubbed and stored; the windows need washing again though - better write that on the list...

The mornings are cooler, the leaves are changing colour and we're surrounded by tomatoes, boxes of them in the basement, the green ones ripening as they sit, the red ones getting sweeter and more juicy. And the sealers have returned from their year long pantry slumber, ready to be filled with mounds of fruit - pears and peaches in our case, bushels of them in the kitchen waiting to be boiled and sliced and packed in their sweet surroundings to be savoured on some dreary day in the dead of winter, a snapshot of warmer days waiting to be rediscovered.

So its back to the routines. School starts in a few days, the streets will be brimming with children again. Football is at the midway point of the season already, and that means hockey is just around the corner too, and don't forget about piano lessons.
Life is about to get busy again. On many fronts.

We'd better get ready.

You go ahead. I think I'll linger just a while longer and enjoy those finer things before its too late.

Two steps forward...

It rained again today; a steady, slow drenching that has left the yard soggy and the mosquitoes enormous, and our spirits a little more down in the dumps than usual. We still haven't found summer hiding among the daisies and the peony bushes - but we've searched, quietly when mother nature wasn't trying to drown us, which seems like every other day again this year, and frankly, we're tired of it. But what can we do? Protest marches? Letter writing campaign? Facebook petition? It's a losing battle, we know, and someday we'll figure out that we haven't lost anything in days like these, except the ability to spot the normal perfectness that is all around us.

Life gives us what we need, not what we want. We know this, but we rally against life and try to find something to control, something to own, something to quiet the distant ache of uneasiness and unhappiness, something to fill us up and make us feel whole and worthy, of what we are not certain, but worthy just the same.

And so we struggle, instead of letting go and accepting our fate and enjoying the ride.

It's been a month of struggle around here lately. Self imposed struggle you might say, thanks to our decision months ago to enter our first ever half-marathon. Somewhere in the last year we found a past-time that seemed innocent enough, a pair of running shoes, shorts and t-shirt and off you go, one foot in front of the other. Babies can do this. Babies DO do this, and we celebrate them when they do, and then they grow older and they run everywhere and are full of energy and we stand back in awe of how it must feel to be so full of energy and vigour and get-up-and-go... No one celebrates when a couple of 40 somethings decide its time they got off their rear ends and starting moving a bit more quickly, and cut back on the cream and the sugar and the sweets, and wake up when it's still dark and put on those running shoes and shorts and t-shirts and slip out to run a few miles and get back home before the rest of the world wakes up and sees them and points and wonders what the hell those two think they're up too?

We still don't consider ourselves 'runners' - that label we seem to save for those gazelle-like creatures who flow when they run, effortless movement through space, feet barely touching ground before lifting off once more; unlike our still slowish plodding and noisy, heavy, thumping on the uneven pavement. The gazelles run continuously; we break up our running with regular walk breaks, allowing our older, tired bodies a wonderful recovery and extending our runs in the process.

Not that we ever aspired to become gazelles; these leopards aren't changing the spots they were dealt, let's face it. But a year ago we walked / ran the 2.6 mile Super Run during the annual Father's Day Manitoba Marathon; by October we had fooled ourselves into running a race, an evening race no less, while on vacation in Florida. I tackled the Tower of Terror 13K while the rest of the family took on the 5K. We survived, and enjoyed it enough to bump up the challenge to the next level, hence this years half-marathon.

No longer content with the Super Run, or the 10K Walk, we took on the Half Marathon, 13.1 miles (20K). We entered a real race! And so we trained, quietly, slowly, methodically; building up our strength and stamina along the way, not fooling ourselves into thinking we had become anything more than better runners than we had been a year ago. And that was fine. This half marathon's goal was just to finish, no stress of a time goal needed.

And even that looked like it might be pushing it, when we both ended up with injuries and in physiotherapy two weeks before the event. One of us was left with the desire to run but without the ability (thanks to my ITBand flair up) and the other battled lack of energy and motivation to continue mixed in with hip / back issues that hampered the ability even once the motivation returned. But with fantastic assistance from our wonderful friend and therapist, we both healed sufficiently to continue with our plans and so we found ourselves on this past Sunday, lined up safely behind the gazelles and the cheetahs, back with the warthogs and elephants and tortoises, but lined up just the same, waiting for the crack of the starters pistol and Chariots of Fire and then we did it. Step by step, mile after mile, surrounded by runners from every walk of life, every size, shape, gender and possible running style or lack thereof, all progressing toward our own personal goals.

We slowed as the miles passed, Karen hit a wall near mile 7 so we walked more and talked more, and enjoyed the cool shady confines of the neighbourhood and the hospitality of the residents cheering everyone on from their lawn chairs, curbside Sunday morning, and once she regained her energy, we picked up the pace a bit again, mindful of our previous injuries, but determined to find that finish line.

A few more miles on we passed through our own neighbourhood, no thoughts of turning and heading home this morning, we continued on, and soon found ourselves within earshot of the PA announcer and the spectators and the wonderful volunteers waiting inside the University Stadium. We conserved our strength as we headed into the stadium grounds, and stepped onto the track together running in unison, side by side, urging each other through the cramping leg muscles and the aching joints, listened as our names were announced, and then with a determined effort, rounded the final bend and headed for the finish line. Cheered on by the volunteers lining the track at the finish zone, congratulated as we crossed, and rewarded with a medal for our efforts, we high fived and congratulated each other, and ourselves, and were absorbed into the crowd of recovering runners behind the stadium grandstand.

We accomplished what set out to do! And we felt great!

Shiny medals around our necks a reminder of that fact, and it was fitting we would do it the way we did, slowed by injuries, hungry for more but not quite able to get there, humbled in the process, and ultimately left to accept our circumstances and deal with them as best we could. Why would it work out any other way?

We got what we needed, and on this Sunday, it was also exactly what we wanted.

Seeds of change

I have always loved apples, devouring them as a child, never letting them spoil in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator or in the fruit basket on the sunny counter. Not every apple mind you, I never really developed an appreciation for Spartans, something about the texture; or Red Delicious either - too mushy I think. Golden Delicious, that's a better apple for my money, or Granny Smith with its puckering tartness - now that's a sensation! But nothing ever compared to a BC MacIntosh for me, its subtle green and red outer skin seemingly caught somewhere between both colours, its bright white juicy interior filled with sweetness and crisp, clear notes... that's an apple for me.

I've been away from writing a bit - busy in life I suppose, working on projects that have involved more time and mental energy, that somehow have left less of both for the important things in personal and mental growth. Those damned migraines have resurfaced anew lately as well, stealing away what energy and stamina was left, until the days blended together into weeks into almost a month.

Summer returned to brighten our spirits and fill our days with more ideas of how to stay even busier - and we allow ourselves to be seduced by the glossy ads of ideal yards and the longing for something more relaxing than where we find ourselves right now. So we plant and weed, and mow and trim, paint and stain and scrub and cut and haul away loads of yesterday's ideas and plans, making room for today's and tomorrow's and the tomorrow's after that.

The neighbours trees, bright green branches reaching higher into the sky, became a blizzard of blossoms in the wind this week, littering the back yard with an aerial assault of summer's promise. With the heat of last week, we filled the pool in anticipation of continued hot days and clear sunny skies, only to be rewarded with cool greys and the pool skimmer net and unlimited opportunity to use it.

Apple blossoms blowing into the yard must be to blame, a cosmic karmic debt of sorts, for the other time-consuming aspect of this past month: visits to Apple Store(s) and our successive returns home with sleekly designed white boxes, and the treasures they contained: a macbook pro for Karen started us off, followed by an iPad on our trip to Minneapolis mid-month ahead of the launch in Canada tomorrow, and then last weekend after running out of patience with the waiting ritual of the PC start up, a new iMac for my desk. So, yes, I've been distracted, and converted.

In for a penny in for a pound.

Of Apples that is.

Changes

My desk is a disaster.

And I'm okay with that. On some level. On another level I must not be 'okay with that' or I would not have chosen the word disaster, right? Let's just agree that I've come to terms with my desk and the way its kept, and the season-like tendency I have to renew its contents, only to have destiny invite a different crop of clutter to the party.

Tax time is a good excuse to clear your desk, it helps to have that vast openness upon which to de- clutter your files as you progress through the tax forms and software. Though if my experience is any indicator, the desk looks alot more like it did before tax time again, rather than that vast openness. Might have something to do with the stack of tax related folders and forms still on my desk...

Organizational gurus continue to send me productivity emails that I signed up for in some stupor of righteous office orderliness - God only knows why after all these years of working this way I'd think it would be easy to change - but maybe thats the point, thinking you CAN change is what keeps you moving forward, open to new possibilities and experiences. So wanting to change; recognizing that what you currently do or where you currently are, could stand to be improved upon in some fashion is a noble thought.

Spring is all about change, and renewal, at least here where we are blessed with four distinct seasons, as the grass is once again green (thanks to the past week of rain) and the flowers are up and about, and the fruit trees seem ready to burst into that fragrant colourful bloom any day now - just like those damn dandelions... The shovels have been stowed for another 6 months, and rakes and lawn mowers are fertilizer spreaders and weed whackers are now again in vogue. Change is good, it keeps you moving; prevents complacency, broadens your horizons.

This week is the one year anniversary of a dramatic change for me personally, having lost that battle with the table saw this time last year, and most days it seems very minor really. Like nothing much has changed, when in reality its obvious that something indeed has changed. People still look, and I can tell those that want to ask but don't - and that's just fine. For those that do ask, it lets me make more connections with them, and hopefully helps them deal with their perceptions of loss and it helps keep me grounded. From a productivity and life standpoint, its all really the same as it was, though I have learned to take more time to be grateful for what I have around me. That change has been worth its weight in gold.

On the house project front there is little change to report. Other than I've called the surveyors to poke around and measure the house and provide us with a Building Location Certificate - we never got one done when we bought he house, we just used the original from 1962. But I'm in the mood for a fight, should it come to that, so I'm applying for that variance to the by-law regarding parking spaces and driveways and garage conversions, and I'll need this $500 certificate as part of that application. And with that decision behind us, I guess we've also decided to slow down the reno plans until we know which way we're able to proceed. For now, it's a wait and see approach, with our eyes fixed on garage expansion.

Karen's the new owner of an 13" Apple macbook pro this week, and she's adjusting to that change and learning how to deal with the new and different ways of computing on it's quick platform, versus her old HP laptop. Everything in her life has now moved down a notch in importance since this new "baby" arrived home on Sunday - so I'm even further down the list behind her car, the cat and the boy. Some changes take more time getting used to - others you've seen coming for years!

With her old laptop now in the process of being cast aside for being slower, it needs to be said that it still has alot of useful life left - an idea that pleases the boy to no end! Seems he feels entitled to claim the old laptop since he has been without for so very long in his very short life, and so his world will change shortly too, as will ours with him and the entire cyberworld as his fingertips.

Remind me when we find that he's been surfing to questionable sites, that I said change was good.

It is, it really is. We're just so stubbornly opposed to change sometimes that we're frozen, clinging to past ideas, thoughts, beliefs and patterns of behavior. That reminds me, my desk is a disaster...

Buried treasure

It's been said that renovations are not for the faint of heart. There are the myriad of decisions that must be made, often well in advance of the actual project; the upheaval of regular routines; the debris; the stress; the cost; and of course the ever-present uncertainty of what lay ahead. We haven't even swung a hammer and we've been tested far beyond what we ever thought we'd have to endure at this point - with little to show for our time and energy beyond plans, calculations, and headaches.

So we gave our hearts some time to recover; a break from the decisions and questions and uncertainty, and we left well enough alone last week. Almost like hitting the pause button while watching a jugglers performance: all the balls are still in mid-air; arms outstretched ready to catch and release the next one; all focus frozen in time. Plus the weather is nice for this time of year, so we've been enjoying Spring come early - given what we endured last year in the pretext of being Summer - we deserve this bit of paradise while it lasts.

In between the lawn raking and window washing, we grabbed a shovel and some steel pry-bars and removed a cast concrete drain diverter sidewalk pad at the front corner of the garage. It was no small feat - having sat in it's present location for almost 50 years, wedged in place between gradebeam and sidewalk, and those nasty shrub roots and shoots that refuse to die...

But we did manage to wiggle it free and out of the way so we could dig down in that area to see what treasure lay buried beneath. We weren't searching for gold - though that would have been a welcome bonus - instead we were after a precious cargo of a different sort; one that might only appeal to builders: evidence of a concrete pile.

No, we don't need to see a doctor.

The concrete pile in question would be a very welcome sight, in that it would allow us to continue our plans of garage conversion, provided it was of sufficient size to carry the additional loads required by the new framing. So I dug down and after a few false finds which consisted of bits of excess concrete from the original construction and the odd root, I finally struck construction gold, and located a solid, non-movable surface inside the dark clay and soil hole I'd created.

With a bit more excavation - mostly by hand - I had uncovered the top of a circular concrete pour, about 18" in diameter, as best I could measure since a good quarter of the pile is hidden beneath the garage grade beam concrete, with a bit of exposed re-bar tying the two together, and with a bit more fine-tuned digging, the outside edges were revealed as well.





So our garage was built as we had hoped, with proper foundational support. I sent off details of our findings to the engineer for his consideration, installed some wooden stakes around the hole, tied them with bright pink survey flagging tape to keep the neighbor's kids from falling in, and called it a day.

We still don't know in which direction our next steps will be with this project, but at least we're slowly learning what we have to work with. Which is usually more than half the battle. In the meantime, we'll shine up our armour and hone our swords while we wait for divine inspiration.

I have to go. Bad.

So this kitchen / house reno is taking on a life of its own.

First I verified a hunch that with the new stairs having to meet current code and the new framing required to open up the dining room and kitchen walls, said new stairs wouldn't fit where we needed them to go.

Great.

Luckily we had plan B in the wings, a plan which is actually a better layout and solves more of the issues that we listed as being reasons why we wanted to renovate in the first place. Certain items on that list got shelved with our original plan, because plan A allowed us to renovate within the existing footprint of the house as it stands now. No new foundations, or roof additions, just open up a few walls and move a few things (like stairs.) Plan B also allows us to remain within the existing footprint: we'd expand into the attached single car garage.

Yes, I'd lose the space that is currently home to my tools and small workshop and storage, but we'd gain a breakfast nook area, a main floor laundry space, and the existing living and dining rooms would either remain as is, or grow slightly larger.
It's a win -win - sorta win. The sorta being that my tools would need a new home, but that's a story for another day.

With Plan A now wounded, Plan B was summoned to the front line to fill in. B was given the once-over to review the details and get current with its nuances, and then it was off to battle. In this case, the battle was a call to the City to inquire about what's involved should I wish to convert my attached garage into living space.

Well. Serves me right for asking questions.

In this fair city, and quite likely in most across the land, the existing By-Laws that were drawn up years ago to serve as guides for development and community planning issues haven't exactly matured with the pace of society. In my particular case, the by-laws dealing with accessory parking on residential lots doesn't fit with the traditional image of a sub-urban development, with its rows of garages fronting the street, front doors and entrances hidden in the shadows, out of sight from the road, cars parked in front of those garages since the inhabitants have more "stuff" than they'll ever need, and it's all stored in that garage, instead of their 2 cars, boat, camper trailer and snowmobile.

Yes, I know - I've seen your garage. You park on the driveway too, I know.

And so do we. And that's the problem. All residential lots must be served by a driveway that leads to a parking space that does not encroach past the frontage of the dwelling on the lot. For those homes that have rear lane access - this isn't an issue.

For residents like us who live on a Bay with no rear access, our driveways lead from the street to an area on the lot that is reserved for parking, usually a garage or carport, or just a surface beside the house, large enough (8' x 20' typically) to park a car. And that's where we are supposed to park.

But if I were to convert my garage, I'd be losing that parking space that meets the by-law.

Yeah so? you ask?

Well, I would require permission from the city by way of a variance to park in front of my garage / house. Even though that's what we do right now. As do many of you, I know. I checked again this morning on my run.

The City Planner in charge of my particular area was a nice enough man, but he didn't know how'd he'd rule if I were to apply for a variance. he looked at the aerial view of my lot and noted that "you have room behind your house to expand the living area, without the need of converting the garage. I see a deck there." No shit Sherlock - and I intended that to be a deck and not park of the house! I got the impression I was fighting an uphill battle, as he wasn't a "fan of cars parking in view of front yards."

I had an few suggestions for him, but I kept quiet.

As part of my application, I'd be advised to get as many neighbors supporting my application to sign off that my parking on my driveway, slightly past the front of my house, but still wholly within my property, was not an issue for them, in which case my request for a variance would have more weight, but would still be up to Mr City Planner to weigh all the factors of my case before making a decision.

Neighborhood support shouldn't be an issue, as some of the people directly affected by my conversion also happen to park in front of their garages and not in them too... just like we have for 14 years...

Honestly? I feel like a schoolchild needing to raise my hand so I can go to the bathroom, when I really, really have to go.

I never did like authority, and I never once wet my pants.

Often in the silence you'll hear what what is needed

It's been a rather odd week.

Odd as in 'not normal' or different or unique. On many fronts.

With Spring Break coming to a close, coinciding with the Easter holidays my little family saw more of each other than we normally do, and while for some family groups this might spell chaos or danger, for us it was an enjoyable time to remember who we are individually and collectively. For while we each have our own roles that we play daily in our respective lives, we also share a bond that transcends those daily roles, and unifies as for better and for worse.

We marked Riley's height on his bedroom door casing on April Fool's day, apt I suppose, his head level and flat against the wooden trim, feet firmly planted on the floor, and I needed him to re-steady himself in position after the first marking because we did not believe where the line sat, so much higher than the previous record taken only six weeks earlier.

The second trial confirmed the first, and it shall be forever noted that he quietly grew an inch and a quarter in six weeks, momentarily measuring 5'-4" - at this rate his parents are in danger of being overtaken by summer's end. Eleven and a half years old, and hitting his first real growth spurt.

Saturday saw me complete a task that for some time has been rolling around my brain, an outcome that was inevitable, I knew, and one which Mother Nature has been slowly uncovering for me over the years.

I shaved my head.

Seriously.

For a number of reasons actually. I was continually headed (no pun intended) down that path a bit further each year, whether I liked it or not, and figured with spring now upon us it would be the right time to reveal what secrets lay hidden under the remaining areas of thick hair - did I have some hideous bump back there protruding unseen, or maybe a scar from childhood that would become much more evident without its protective covering? The answers to those questions are no, and no. The ol' bean looks quite well actually. And now's the time to get it used to the sun, before it turns my melon painful shades of red.

I've also found over the past year of running that my head gets very warm, very quickly, and traps massive amounts of heat up there, which quickly sends currents of perspiration cascading down my forehead stingingly into my eyes, and over the back and down my neck, testing the latest moisture-wicking properties of my running gear to the extreme.

Bald is much cooler. And aerodynamic too!

The mirror still hasn't quite figured out whose reflection it is sharing with me as I pass by, but I'm sure that will slowly become routine as well.

Maybe it was my newfound smoothness, or maybe the long weekend, I can't quite say which, but something had me reviewing a previous house renovation plan that we had decided wasn't the best solution to our problems, late into the morning hours Sunday night. I was drawn back to the ideas I had assembled on the screen, intrigued by the flow of spaces, and effortless solutions the drawing presented.

I had spent the three previous days in communication with the structural engineer as we finalized the lintel sizes and beam requirements and support framing necessary to reroute the loads from the current wall layout to the new design and was updating the drawings to place everything so we could apply for the necessary building permits.

As I checked and double checked the positions of floor joists, removing ceiling panels and measuring to a common reference point, making sure the drawings accurately reflected the existing conditions, I felt a change in the air. A curious palpable energy shift that left me uneasy but with much more calmness than I had been feeling all week.

It was with that quiet calmness that I revisited the earlier plan. And also with that same calmness that I confirmed the relocation of the basement stairs, the critical first step in the design and process of creating more space for the expanded kitchen, that I confirmed those stairs would not be able to be placed where we intended.

For with the relocation, the new stairway would have to be code compliant for rise and run dimensions (which our current 40 year old stairs are not) and the resulting changes would mean we'd be building a longer flight of stairs, and with the increased length, we'd run out of room at the base of the stairs for a landing that would also meet code. I couldn't just back the entire flight of stairs the required distance, due to the main support beam for the house and the necessary supporting framing for the new lintels and beams...

The new stairs were stuck between a rock and a hard place. And so was our plan.

The quiet calmness allowed me to linger in the midnight darkness of my office, accepting the circumstances of this dilemma, and understanding why I had been drawn to the other design earlier.

So much for lighting and tile samples. Now we're considering a plan to expand our living space by converting the presently under-used attached single car garage into the new kitchen and breakfast nook, complete with a row of windows overlooking the deck and backyard, and leaving those existing stairs right where they are. We'd be able to move the laundry upstairs, and expand the current dining room to formal dining room status; the living room would remain unchanged; and we'd close off the existing front porch area into a true front door entry with a door that actually faces the street...

Sure we'd lose the garage, but with the one year anniversary of my table saw accident approaching I'm very much aware that last year's new adventure began more lasting changes than previously thought. Unfortunately, with this latest discovery, our renovation plans may have to be rescheduled somewhat. Cuz if we're seriously looking at garage conversion / expansion, I'll need to clean that space out which means I need a new place for my tools, but then we'll also need to completely gut the interior of the garage space to allow for insulation and vapour barrier and floor framing...

I think it's time to listen for more silence...