Demolition Time

We go back to the church this weekend to start packing up our few belongings and moving them upstairs. In mid-August, demolition of the lower level begins (taking out the fake paneling, kitchen cupboards, etc. in readiness for updating and remodeling. We're finally going to have visible results of the money spent. Hubby and I are starting to consider the style and colours of what we want to do (this is the fun part). Do we want a nice home-feeling kitchen or a commercial one? Wood or stainless steel? What kind of flooring? Light or dark? Period or modern?

When we refurbished the kitchen in our city house, we walked into Ikea with no idea what we were really looking for. And there in the first lobby as we walked in was the ideal kitchen, and we both instantly said, "That's it!" We went upstairs, ordered that kitchen right down to the wall paint, and didn't even look at anything else on offer. I'm hoping the experience is the same this time around. We tend to agree on most things when it comes to design. We just need to decide if this church kitchen will be primarily for us or for the functions and events we hope to hold there.

Wise Words

Yesterday I took the grandkids each on an individual walk for some one-to-one time with Grandma. Part of my walk with my 9-year-old grand-daughter, R, went past a cemetery, and we stopped to read some of the headstones. One in particular caught her eye -- it gave the names of a couple and added "and four of their young children." We agreed this was very sad.

We continued on our walk and found some Scottish thistles beside the road. R touched the bristly head of one and noted the barbs on it. When I asked her what she thought the barbs were for, she gave me a very knowledgeable explanation about how plants spread their seeds by trying to get others to carry them around for them. Which led to a lengthy talk about how plants' whole goal in life is to spread their seeds and propagate themselves.

I then teasingly asked R if that meant, because I had had children, that meant my purpose in life was done now. And she promptly replied, "Well, before we invented fun, that would have been true." And explained that now people live longer and have time for fun too.

An interesting and possibly wise answer. But I would add that grandkids are part of the fun part.

Lions, Tigers, and Spiders -- oh my!

Yesterday it was running through the sprinkler, making cookies, watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, an impromptu puppet show, and a drawing game. And every day starts off with a "hunt for spiders with the vacuum cleaner" so that my grand-daughter doesn't freak out.

It has been 25-26 degrees here in the church, but if we open the windows to try to catch a cool breeze, the humidity shoots up to 75%. The kids and I played "going on a lion hunt" and pretended we were in equatorial Africa. Finally at 8:30 last night, I threw caution to the wind and flung open all the windows anyway, and it was much more pleasant for sleeping. I guess the humidity dropped somewhat too, because the dehumidifier (set for 70%) didn't kick on. Ideally it should be at 55 or lower.

Lake Huron, Sunshine, and the Fry Truck

We have the grandkids here at the church with us for a few days, the first time we've been able to spend significant time with them in a year and a half. Days spent at the ball park, the playground, going for walks. Evenings spent watching Veggie Tales and colouring. Today it was a five-hour outing at Lake Huron, in Bright's Grove, playing in the park, wading in the water, collecting rocks, and being introduced to Pogos, a food they hadn't seen before and weren't fussy about. Now they're downstairs doing some sort of coding activity on the computer on Scratch while Grandpa and I recover a little. I definitely don't have the energy I used to!

My favourite quote this week: Grandson to Grand-daughter: "Isn't it amazing how you can't stay mad at me?"

Zoning, Doors and Windows, and Government Grants

Yesterday my husband went up to the church to meet with two people, the zoning person from the township and a man from Stephenson's. The zoning person gave us some helpful information to apply for permission to put an apartment in the basement. We'll still have the ability to use the upstairs for community events, but we'll be able to live on site. We'll get that process started right away. 

The person from Stephenson's (the company that did our round window) is going to give us a quote on new outside steel doors, storm windows for the stained glass, and also plain slider windows for the sanctuary if we decide to go that route. Best to know all the possibilities and numbers, so we can make a decision. If we decide to go ahead, they should be able to get it done by year end, which would be great for the propane bill this winter. I'd like to get the place air-tight and insulated enough that we can use the upstairs in winter, instead of blocking it off. If nothing else, it would be nice to be able to give the neighbourhood a place to do yoga, as right now there's a group of people using someone's back yard for that.

For the doors, we're looking at something simple but slightly modern, and perhaps in a smoky soldier blue to complement the gray-blue in the bricks. Right now the doors  don't fit well and are a pretty startling pinky-red with no windows in them, so it feels a bit fortress-like. I want something air-tight but friendlier, with some windows. Sadly, all four doors in the place are a different size, so we can't shuffle or re-use any of the current doors. We'll likely donate them to Re-Store, though, as there's still some life left in them.

I looked at the Greener Homes Grants information on the government website, but much of what would have qualified is already done (bad timing!), and what is remaining likely wouldn't bring enough of a rebate to make the application/evaluation process worth the hassle. We'll still look into it, but I think we'll end up not using the program. 

Sudden realization

We returned to the city to mow lawns, weed gardens, and generally check in with the family. I am struck by the noise level here. Constant traffic sounds, construction trucks, people walking by chatting loudly in the middle of the night, airplanes roaring overhead. I can't open my windows at night because it's so noisy. The only time you can hear the birds is at 4:30 a.m. before the people wake up. How did I ever live here? Back in the church, it's dead silent unless the dehumidifier is on. You can actually hear birds, and the wind in the trees. You can hear yourself think.

It's interesting how quickly we de-acclimatize. And it's an eye-opener to me how nourishing I find the quiet. I haven't written a word since I got home. I am unable to sleep well. When I walk Brio, I feel I spend my time dodging other people, ducking behind bushes, head down. In the village, I walk with my face turned toward the beautiful sky, the eye on the horizon. Fascinating!