Worker Bee Weekend

The original title of this blog was "On Any Given Sunday . . .", but then I thought of a less awful/cliche title. I swear we have watched that movie ten times in the span of my Phys Ed degree . . . just to break down the psychology of Al Pacinos' speech in relation to motivation theory. Yeesh. "Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives. All comes down to today, and either, we heal as a team, or we're gonna crumble. Inch by inch, play by play". Blah, blah, blah. I could probably recite those lines for you in my sleep!
The movie however is NAT the reason today's post had that title. It only has the title for other more-than-obvious reasons. :)

One of my sociology professors once gave us a twenty five page reading on the history of the weekend. Needless to say I didn't learn anything from it except the fact that socially speaking, weekends are supposed to be a time to relax, especially Sundays. I mean literally, most people on the west coast in the summer would be shot for doing work on Sundays because what do we use Sundays for? Catch up around the house and spending time with family. Ok, so maybe only half shot. But anyway, despite the fact that Em and I slept in this morning, we have been doing more than we were supposed to today.

Last night, I moved a whole 'lotta stuff from the 'crazy corner' in the back porch because I wanted to find some big jars for Em. I managed to unearth the pantry cupboard that used to be full of preserves. Yes, there were some in there from the beginning of the 90's. I'm donating the entire contents of the cupboard to the Hosie chickens. Sorry mum. Had to happen.

Aside from looking for big jars, I was also hoping that there would be some relishes left in there that I could sneak a peak at - my fondest memories of mum's preserves were her Zucchini Relish and her Bread and Butter Pickles. Success! There were some hiding in the back! All from 2000. Looking at them real close made me think that there was a possibility that I could get away with testing them . . . but when I opened the lid of one I just couldn't do it. Added to the goal list instead: find recipes for both these things.

Almost empty pantry! Notice the mountain in the background.

Looks like someone got a little unsealed in the past few years . . .

It is SO obvious that I wanted to help. This was my 'dot my I's with a circle' phase.

So long, delicious B & B pickles . . . I will miss you!

In the loss of any of your loved ones, its only natural that you evolve to cling to certain things about that person. One of the things that I cling to is mum's writing. It was so distinct that only a few people could decipher it - I think the list is less than the number of fingers on one hand. Even though I can, sometimes it takes me weeks of staring at something to figure out what she's written. I am so nostalgic about her script, that I went so far as to pull the little labels off the pantry shelves to keep for myself somewhere. For some reason, her writing preserves vast amounts of her personality and character in it. Call me crazy! :)

On a less serious note! We (Em and I) think the battle has been won with the raccoon! (Knock on wood.) Solution: get a different feeder that when hung can't be reached from above or below by the raccoon. We've sat on the deck and considered multiple outcomes of the situation and have decided that we're fairly confident in our win.

On the other hand: the day I said that would come a couple posts ago, came. Exhibit A:

To spell it out a little more for you, these were on the deck.

 BATTLE. ON.

I can't be sad! Because I was expecting it! I just didn't know when . . . but I'm fairly confident that upon Worker Bee Dad/Bob Howe the Fix it Man returning tomorrow from the East Coast, we'll have a solution in place that will work. He's already tested a couple different scenarios, so I'm sure that we'll (*cough* he *cough*) come up with something soon. Just for tonight, the deer fence across the deck is going to be a few deck chairs, a sawhorse and maybe a few noise makers. Who knows! Secretly, I want to rig up an electric fence. Is that unnecessary?

Oh! Ha! I forgot. You MUST be wanting to see pictures of the floor. I guess because you have been waiting so patiently . . .

Entryway

Little bit of kitchen love . . .

Oooo nice shiny hallway!

Over so fast! (Sad face) Maybe once the house is a little less chaotic, I'll be able to take a more panoramic - like picture so you have a better idea of what everything looks like. But I promise you it is nice and shiny and fun to glide around in your socks.

Included in the work that I 'wasn't' supposed to be doing today . . . remember that mountain of stuff beside the pantry cupboard?

Magic happened.

This says two things:
1. Sarah has to start running on the treadmill again. (Actually I am REALLY happy about this, I've been missing my runs.) You're probably asking why I just don't run outside, and the answer is because I don't want to all the time. We live at the top of a two kilometer long hill which is suitably awful to run up.
2. Tomorrow's project! Clean out the pretty-much-full freezer because there isn't anything on top of it! It's about time. Here's a special forewarning: there is a piece of mum and dad's wedding cake in there from 1985. TRUE STORY! To be fair though, it's only been a couple years since we cleaned it out :)

I've had a lot of people (none that read this blog, I promise) ask me why I don't have a job this summer. I reply with what I'm doing here at the house, and their response is one of two: "wow that is a huse amount of work" or "huh, ok" accompanied with a quizzical brow look. Fair enough - your average 23 and a half year old should probably be slaving away at a summer job that doesn't pay enough. However, setting the goal of restoring a house to the way you remember it, but better, less bogged down with memories, and more catered to what you want is nothing less than exhausting. There's no end to it. Sorting out the bogged down memories - dusting them off, uncovering them , and re-shelving them in a safe place so you'll remember them - is probably the most draining type of work out of them all. Although last night was few and far between (there will be no pity for me here) - you could have found me lying on the floor of that hallway in the picture I just showed you, remembering all of the days that Chris and I would run down that hallway and into the door to the porch in order to keep one or the other locked in there, or the days that we unlocked the bathroom door from the outside with a meat skewer when the other was inside taking a shower, laughing (or yelling) hysterically as we did it.

I'm not saying that preserving memories is necessary when renovating  and overhauling a house - but for me it is. Being away from Salt Spring since I graduated high school has meant that I haven't recently spent a lot of time in the house I grew up in. I've changed a lot (and stayed the same too!) since then, but haven't been able to come back and really live in this place. Like any house that you've lived in for an extended period of time, it holds the keys to your entire past, often your childhood, and everything that goes with it. Changing the house from the way it was when you were a child is like moving to a different place. It feels like you're changing the skin you're in almost, because you know everything in the house so well. The spots in the floor where it creaks, how many steps it takes to get to the second level (how many less steps it is if you take them two at a time),or  if you can get away with flushing the toilet in the morning without waking someone up. And that's just the beginning. How people move houses during their childhood is totally beyond me! Yikes! I never want to move!

Needless to say, changing something that is so familiar to me - even though I've been working toward it for 6 years - is recklessly difficult. Most days its not my legs and arms that are tired from lifting boxes (although they should be from exercising - hopefully soon!), it's my heart (not from lifting boxes though, obviously). And only in a good way, because I sincerely want to be here, but man!, is it ever tiring some days.

Worker Bee Sarah, OUT! :)