Milestones

Well, that’s christmas over.

I mostly ignored it, to be honest.  Which might be why the day itself was quite enjoyable.  It felt like my christmas in China did – not a day like any other, but not really like christmas, either.  I squirreled out of spending christmas eve at my mother’s house, which I always find extremely depressing.  Instead, she came down for brunch and present exchanges, and then the three of us (mother, sister, me) went to the family christmas lunch.  Which was only moderately painful, and my uncle narrowly avoided being racist, although he would keep skimming the surface.  My cousin’s new boyfriend was there (his idea, and I bet she resisted it strongly, being the best example of our family’s commitment phobia) and he was lovely. I stayed a couple of hours and then when it started to degenerate (naming no particular aunts), I went to Emma’s house for dinner and drinks and good people whose company I enjoy without any cringing at all.  Such a relief.

The weekend before this one was a bit tricky.  The Friday was my dad’s birthday, the Saturday was the day he killed himself, and the Monday was my birthday - and also the day he was found.

I had several christmas and birthday events on that weekend and in the end I only went to one, despite harrasment from one of the organisers of the three work events.  My birthday I spent mostly at home – I had the day off, thank god – and shopping with my sister.  I was a bit fragile, but I knew I would be.  So I wrapped myself in the bubble wrap of soothing activities, and put myself up on a high shelf where no one could accidently knock my emotional equilibrium over.  I will admit to a few crying jags, but they felt more like something that needed to be got out the way.  Something to bouy me up out of sadness, not being dragged down into it.  All in all, it was a smoother ride than I expected.

I did miss christmas – it’s a season that I love, despite all it’s problems.  I love the excitement and the fun and the feeling that this is a special time, a time to think and reflect and to consider others before yourself, to put extra thought into the things that make a life more than just getting up and going to work.  My year in China taught me to love it even more, and to choose the things about it that bring me joy and leave the other parts to one side. 

But every time I would hear a carol or see an ad and get a bit wistful, I would think ‘next year’.  This time next year, I hope to be alone in my own house, free to have the bits of christmas I like, and not some of the others (although they will sneak in).  And it won’t be quite as emotionally loaded.  I hope.

These photos are all taken from the spot on my couch where I usually sit to knit or embroider.  At a certain time of day the sun comes blazing in and the whole room is lit up in the most glorious manner.  If I sit here on the couch long enough, the light hits my project and lights it up.

I spent ages playing around with the settings on my point and shoot camera to try and capture something of what it actually feels like to sit there, bathed in the dappled sun.  When I think of the houses I’ve lived in, what I remember most clearly about all of them was the light.  And I always remember them at whatever time of day it was that the light was the best there. 

It makes it hard to see what you’re doing, but luckily this blanket didn’t need much seeing.  It’s Brooklyn Tweed’s tweed baby blanket (rav link).  I ordered the yarn (rainbow wool, and it’s lovely) for it before Emma was even pregnant, and started knitting it before he published the pattern – while it was still guidelines.  Luckily, I had the right needle size, gauge, and I had hit almost the exact right number of stitches for the halfway point when he published the pattern.

I bought the pattern because I was a bit intimidated by the icord edging (NO idea why, now that I think about it) and didn’t really want to do the calculations for the feather and fan edging.  Have I mentioned here that I highly dislike feather and fan?  The less time spent thinking about it the better, in my book…

I do have photos of it finished, in which you can see what it actually is, but I haven’t gotten around to uploading them yet, so you’ll just have to wait.  Here’s the rav link to my version, anyhow.

Lastly, I would just to say a heartfelt ‘thankyou’ to all of you.  To those I know, or know better, because of this blog.  To people I’ve met and haven’t met, to those of you who’ve been reading all through this tough year and before, and to those I’ve just met and connected with recently.  You make my world brighter, richer and happier, and I am so glad and grateful to have you all.  I am constantly amazed by how real, solid and truly helpful the community that I have found, through my blogs and yours, is.  What a wonderful group of women we are!

I hope this time of year was as joyful as it could possibly be for you all, wherever that fits on the scale.  And if I don’t speak to you again before then, here’s to a fantastic new year!  Bring on 2010!

Different anxiety

I have been anxious about the house thing all week.  Last Monday I made an offer for this place, which was hotly contested.  I didn’t get it, which was disappointing as I’d already picked out paint colours.  However, I figured that getting the first place you offered for, in a good location, everything you want, for a bargain price, seemed to be EXTRA good luck.  And I was only hoping for normal good luck.

So I immediately put an offer in on this one.  I found out today it was accepted, and I signed the contract two hours ago.

It’s not in as good condition as the other one – the bathroom needs some love, and the walls in every room need at least to be cleaned, most of them painted.  And the garden is bare.  But it’s bigger, it has more potential (you can’t paint another room on) and it was a steal.  And most of the paint colours will be good in this one, too. 

My main reactions have been: ‘yes!’ and also ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH’

Living

Our landlady is selling our house.  It’s very annoying.  We have two inspections a week, and it’s surprisingly hard to keep the place presentable for twice a week looks.  Especially when one of those inspections is always early afternoon on a Saturday, which is when I usually do the most house stuff.  Instead, I have to get up way earlier than I’d like (and it feels even earlier if I’ve had something on on Friday night) and clean up a week’s detritus.  And of course, my sister leaves her share to the last minute so it’s always a grumpy frenzy on Saturday mornings.

It doesn’t really affect us long term because we don’t plan on extending the lease.  It’s up at the end of March.  My sister wants to go overseas – there’s no way she’ll have enough money by then, but I think she’ll move in with some friends.  This is good because it will be a cheaper house and also she will learn things like people get cross if you don’t do the dishes ever, and if you hang your washing on a communal line, start at the back and don’t leave 10cm gaps between everything so that the next person has to remove all your socks before they can use the line.  I, as perhaps you can tell from the grump level, would like to live by myself again.

I realised last night that it’s not really that she doesn’t contribute that shits me.  What really shits me is that she not only has no routine, but the way she opperates means that I can’t really have one, either, unless I want to do everything (including, probably, her laundry etc).  And I find that hard – I like finding the rythms in things, finding equalibrium.  And it stresses me out when I can’t.

We’ve been seeing our mother every Saturday while our inspection is on.  This is bad because I find it really stressful – especially because she takes about a half an hour to leave after we’ve hinted or outright said ‘I need to do stuff, bye!’ and she’s said ‘yes, I have to go.’  I find that that makes me anxious as well.

It’s good for a couple of reasons, though.  She’s been paying for lunch, which is always nice, and although she stresses me out and it’s painful, it’s good not to feel like I’m dodging her all the time.  I’m not sure where the balance point is between those two, but we’re closer to it now than we have been for a while.

And in the course of us meeting up, she’s been talking about helping me buy a house. 

She now owns her house outright, so she wants to use her equity to help me get a loan.  She’s got a small amount that she says she will give me as a deposit.  The loan will be all mine, but I couldn’t afford to borrow enough to buy a livible place without her input.  Even with it, it’d going to have to be either a bit of a fixer upper or else quite a ways out from the city.  But it would be my own, and that’s worth quite a bit to me.

We’re still right at the start of thinking about all this – and it feels like it’s two steps forward one back.  Not with the actual process, but with my mother.  She’s weirdly erratic, and goes from ‘let’s go look at houses!’ to ‘do you still want to buy a house?’ in minutes.  I have been having the same conversations over and over and over (something that particularly pushes my buttons) as she flutters around the idea.  But I’ve spoken to the bank about what I can realistically expect, and I’ll set up a proper meeting next week, if I can.  And then it’s a case of knowing what I want and doing it.  There’s no room for uncertainty or doubt with my mother because she will scent it out and leap on it.  She doesn’t realise she does this – she thinks she’s listening to you and validating, when she should be asking you if you really think that and why.  I sometimes wonder about her theory of mind, if she has one, and if it’s intact.

It might not end up happening now.  If we can’t find somewhere suitable before the end of March, when our lease is up, I might just rent again and save, so that maybe I can afford a nicer or a more convenient place.  Then again, maybe I’ll settle for a less nice place because I am so sick of moving, of packing up and then unpacking with the knowledge that in 12 months I’m going to do it all again.  And I’m sick of living in other people’s houses, where there’s only so far I can settle in because I can’t really change anything.  I am not sure what dollar value I’d put on knowing that I can do whatever I like to a place (whether or not I can afford it/be bothered, I CAN) but it’s not insignificant.