“Our Greenhouse Experiment”

 

Hot tub haven

            Back in November, I came up with the idea of taking our old, defunct hot tub and converting it into a “greenhouse” to weather some of our larger, cold sensitive plants. A little brainstorming possibilities, a run through Home Depot for supplies, and we created a cradle for our aloes and ferns.

            Checking the interior temperatures daily shows a successful experiment. The tub’s warmth, always at least ten degrees above the outside temperature, has allowed us to feel pretty confident that the plants will survive this winter safely.

               Until this yesterday.

            Outside, the cold air dipped to a little below freezing. The thermometer read in the forties. That’s probably the lowest our Aloe Vera will tolerate. The ferns, too, may survive this freezing dip if it doesn’t last too long. By this afternoon, the highs should top out in the low fifties, meaning our “greenhouse” will climb into the sixties. Once our daily highs hit the sixties again, we’ll do a visual check to make certain everything survived this snap.

Hot tub haven!

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman  

 

“Go With the Flow”

 

Sunset from the front 

  

Rocky road at the cabin

Our Bronco II

Escape Hybrid

        We just terminated our plans to visit the Leakey cabin this weekend. A cold front blusters into the area, dropping temperatures for this weekend to the low twenties. As no one’s used the ancient space heater in at least four years, we don’t want to get up there to find there’s no heat. Waiting until next weekend shifts the lows into the upper forties. Even if we have no heat, we’ll manage with warm clothing and the military wool blankets stored up there.

            The wonderful part of now owning an SUV that can tackle the rugged cabin road means we possess a flexibility that we surrendered about six years ago when our previous SUV needed extensive and expensive repairs. We purchased a sedan that met our daily needs with the assurances by my in-laws that they would loan us one of their high clearance cars or trucks to access our cabin. Those of you who deal with narcissists know that their offer turned immediately into “strings attached” transactions. When we borrowed a vehicle from them, we always left our own car for them to use. This exchange—car for car—was more than other family members did, where sometimes my in-laws let other friends or family use cars for months.

            Each attempt to do a car swap ended with them changing the loan terms whenever we did the trade. The last time we tried a switch for a four day weekend, they changed the amount of time to wanting their car back within twenty-four hours—just because. They didn’t tell us that, though, until we’d loaded their car with our supplies. I cried the entire two hour drive. We never borrowed a car again.

            For us, having our Bronco Sport means changing plans impacts only us. Ice and snow or sweltering summer heat can shift our plans instead of a dependence on the grace of others who always play a game I never understand.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Trips whenever we want!

 

“Too Much Time?”

 

            Like many people, I started working at sixteen and never stopped. The two years as caregiver for Mom as she circled down into the late stage of Huntington’s disease translated into a grueling 24/7 schedule. I returned to work “part-time” as a substitute teacher with the idea that I had freedom to adjust my days as I pleased. Even pre-pandemic, school districts experienced a shortage of substitutes, and I became a sucker for a plea from a secretary to book weeks in advance. I broke my vow to “cut back” to only working two or three days a week as my calendar filled year-after-year.

            Then COVID-19 halted me in my tracks. The spring of 2020 suddenly loomed open and empty. At first, I reveled in the wonder of having enough Time for anything and everything. I finished neglected yard and garden projects. I reorganized every closet and drawer, and ventured into the garage and attics for a purge. I detailed the cars to a showroom shine. I binged on television and movies, and read blissfully.

            Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Tracking time became unnecessary.

            Until lack of use drained the Mazda’s battery!

            I realized tracking time needed a new type of routine other than up at 5 AM, Monday thru Friday to work all day. Slowly, a weekly sequence evolved. Mondays I designated for ERRANDS DAY that included a grocery store run and take-outs to support local restaurants. To avoid draining the car batteries, Tuesdays turned into CAR DAYS. The RX8 zips down a stretch of highway at 70 mph to keep the engine purring. Wednesdays shifted to WASH DAYS. That means stripping all of the beds, tossing in the towels, and tackling our multitude of throws along with our usual clothing. The tradition of NO CHORE Thursday (started when caring for Mom) continued to this day. I assigned Fridays for COMPANY CLEANING: bathrooms disinfected, mirrors polished, furniture dusted, floors mopped. Saturday and Sunday opened up as free days, too.

            My system means my days don’t blur without some kind of “tick” to mark them. I don’t have to remember if I’ve driven the car from one week to the next, or if I’ve forgotten to wash Koi’s bedding. A glance at my phone yields the weekday, and my morning chores fall into place.

            Of course, it amazes me that I finally have too much time.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

    

   

“Indulgence”

            My new doctor challenged me with a weight loss goal and the simple instructions: WALK. An easy challenge for most people, but anyone with problem knees understands the intricacies of this task. Back at the beginning of the pandemic, enjoying my unexpected time off, I overused and injured my left knee. Two weeks of RICE followed by a PA’s examination and the warning to rehab very, very slowly and carefully meant I avoided further injury and didn’t need any follow-up treatment.

            I celebrated my vaccination by renewing my gym membership. It took a few weeks of trying different times to discover the perfect period for me to exercise without too many other people around. My goal to be heart healthy couldn’t ignore COVID-19.  

            At first, my knee hummed at me with irritation if I hit the treadmill for longer than fifteen minutes. After a frustrated six weeks, I shifted to the bicycle. I came home triumphant when, day after day, my knee handled thirty minutes at Level 1 without protest. I noted improvement in other ways. The first time I attempted to walk through a local mall, my knee demanded rest about half-way into the circuit. By Christmas, I wove effortlessly through the crowds. Of course, around this time, COVID’S Omicron burst onto the scene causing me to backburner a return to the gym.

            Two weeks ago, I drove to our park and tested myself with a 1.3 mile loop over the park’s dam. For three days, I found other paths that looped around the area. In the past, I would have walked to the park, too. That dare I didn’t attempt until yesterday. After reading a few articles on the benefits of walking, I realized that confining myself to thirty minutes hedged me in to trying for a quicker pace. For me, allowing myself a full sixty minutes of nothing but “ME” time turned into a luxury of day dreaming and birdsong listening. With my mind set on spending an entire hour on my journey, the hurry shifted emotionally to an indulgence.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

“A Roof Over Our Heads”

Original house front

Original houose back

       Originally, our house sat at a smidgeon above 1,000 square feet, a common size for homes in the mid-1960s. Although smaller than the house we rented for a year, it appeared massive in contrast to the one bedroom apartments we lived in for the first few years of marriage. It offered a large, functional kitchen. Our one miniscule bathroom had plenty of storage. We had a room set aside for a studio and a spare bedroom for guests!

          We’d resided in the house for six years before our son came into our lives. By his sixth birthday, my frustration with the lack of space led to two options: move or add on. We spent weekends patrolling new neighborhoods and going through Open House sales pitches. The areas and homes we liked, we couldn’t afford. However, we did get some excellent ideas for doing a major addition to our home. Drawing various sketches, eventually we found ourselves hunting for a remodeler to add on a family room, new master bedroom and bathroom. When a hail storm ravaged our old roof, we pushed into remodel mode with the idea of having the addition done along with a total roof replacement. It didn’t take us long to find a contractor. By the end of 1994, we “moved” into our new home!

Addition in progress

             A mere twenty-seven years later, we again faced an old roof. We saved every penny. I researched the average cost for roofs in San Antonio. I did a Facebook query, “Who’s got a good roofer?” From those suggestions and my own research, I contacted four companies in September to get bids. The bids looked fairly similar until a representative from one company asked if the other proposals included entirely new decking for our original structure as our city had changed the plywood requirements. None of the others had done so. At that time, a sheet of plywood approached $70 a pop. That shot up the other bids immediately. A quick calculation from that manager showed us short on our savings. I told him I wanted to hire his company, but needed time to save. He didn’t push. He didn’t suggest his company finance. He handed me extra business cards, said if our existing roof gave us any problems over the next few months, he’d send out a repair crew to patch things.

            One major side effect of the pandemic turns out to be we don’t spend money on anything but groceries and take-out once a week. With October came an extra paycheck and a bonus! I placed the call to Tomlin Roofing Professionals. Within days, we had a final bid and contract signed, and a promise for replacement in February or March because their crew was booked that far out.

            Then a week ago, an unexpected cancellation pushed our roof onto the company’s schedule! By 8 AM on January 5^th, the team started removing our old shingles. They stripped down everything and replaced the plywood decking on the 1968 portion of our home. The city inspector did his job quickly. The workers finished with every stray nail collected within two days. A final check by the manager, and a check from us, means we now have a roof over our heads. This time for 50 years!

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman