Moving

Paul and I are coming up for our third anniversary! And we had been talking for quite some time about selling this wonderful house. A couple of reasons: it is very large (2800 square feet) and, while it was perfect for a family with teenagers, it is now way too big and way too expensive for the two of us. Also, it was built in the early 80s and is not efficient with heat and green considerations - and we really want to be in a place that is as close to "off the grid" as possible. Also, we want our married life to be in a home that is ours - and that we have made together. Also, we are very interested in living in community and our 5 acres is not enough to invite other people to come and build.

Well, then late last year the economy tanked and we just assumed that our house price had tanked with it, and that we would have to wait now until prices went back up again - maybe a wait of several years. 

A couple of months ago, I was talking with some girl friends who were looking for houses and discovered that Chapel Hill prices had not dropped. At all. Turns out people are still buying in this area, and still paying to live close to the university, and in the Chapel Hill school district. Even though our address says "Hillsborough" our house is the very last one on our rural road to be included in the Chapel Hill school district - and that is a distinct advantage.

So we called in a real estate agent - a lovely woman whom Paul has known for years - and she confirmed that yes, now is a good time to sell. But...we would need to clear the clutter and clear it soon so that it could go on the market for spring and summer - prime selling time. Whoa!

Those of you know us and our home know that we did indeed have a considerable amount of clutter. Stuff. We set to work. We gave away. We advertised on craigslist. We bartered (for instance "our canoe for your landscaping"). We trashed. We boxed up and stored. We cleaned. We rearranged.

We focused on that for 8 whole, long weeks. And mostly kept our sanity and sense of humor. (Well, mine wore a bit thin sometimes, but I did try.) In the midst of that two other things were happening. 

Paul had started back in his chiropractic/acupuncture work in December and so is in the midst of building up that practice. He's doing wonderfully - giving workshops, seeing new patients every week, and just flourishing in it. 

And my 91 year old dear dear Uncle Norb who is still sharp and witty, and only just relinquished his drivers licence last year, has been diagnosed with esophagus cancer and is not pursuing aggressive treatment of any kind. So the doctors say he can expect another 3-7 months. He's in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I came up for a week in April when he ended up in ER three times, and so it was the perfect time for me to be here with him. Now his 3 children (who also live in other states) and I have worked out a schedule so that one of us will always be here. He wants to stay in his home for as long as he can and we will do what we can to make that happen. The good news is that he is not in pain or any discomfort at this point - just tired. We talk about his dying. And cry. But he says he has lived a good life and a long life and he is desperately lonely since Dolores died a year ago. 

Anyway, back to the house...We finally called the real estate agent back this week and she pronounced it marvellous. We signed the papers to put it on the market and within 3 days we had the first people come to look! We are excited as we look forward to the next phase of our lives which, at this point, is not certain at all! We have been so focused on clearing up the house and land that we have not really started looking for our next home. We may end up renting for a bit, while we look. Or build. 

Oh, the other thing is that our last child (well, Paul's really, but we share!), Nataw, moved into her first apartment last weekend. She made us proud as she did everything on her own - went to look at places, signed papers, made countless phone calls. And she is, of course, thrilled with her new abode. We miss her cheerful sweet presence, but are also enjoying just being the two of us for the first time.

Hmm. So that's about it. 

We are planning to throw one final party in our home before we leave it, and will let you all know when we fix a date.

New Year Letter

Here it is already February 2009 and we can now say “President Barack Obama.” Thank God. 

And that’s probably a good place to start this New Year letter to you-all. Paul and I worked with the Democratic Party and with the local Obama office to get Barack Obama elected--and it was especially important in this state of North Carolina which was a swing state. The fact that he won here was incredibly gratifying—all our work paid off! We are thrilled to watch each day of his presidency unfold and, what’s more, to take part in it.

The year had its ups and downs. Mostly ups.

I taught another semester of “Introduction to Judaism” at Meredith College, a small women’s college 30 minutes from here. I had 5 students, one of whom was a “returning” student—the college att

racts older women to undergrad work and these women make up 25% of the student population. They are an absolute delight to teach—so enthusiastic and committed, and coming with all their life experiences.

At the same time however, I was discovering that many physical and emotional problems were directly related to menopause and eventually, in April was referred to a wonderful osteopathic physician (no, that is not bones) and his wife the MD gynecologist, both of whom happily integrate natural and herbal medicine with the more conventional medical practices. My mood sw

ings and emotional misery (which were much like those I suffered as an adolescent) are now a thing of the past, as are the physical accompaniments. Who knew that constantly bumping into doorways was a product of menopause?

In February we started expanding the vegie garden. This was the fourth year we had planted, and each year we had doubled the size, moving each time onto ground that had been scratched up and fertilized by our wonderful flock of chooks (chickens to you non-Australians). This time we decided to cut down some of the trees that were shading the area, or that were crowding others, and used them to build raised beds. What a beautiful thing! We filled them with lovely rich compost, aged chook manure, and dirt, planted them with all sorts of goodies, and then watched our garden grow.  

At the risk of boring you, I will tell you what we grew: kale, chard, collards, spinach, lettuce, radishes, carrots, zucchini, pumpkins (winter squash) (both acorn and butternut), spuds, tomatoes, cucumber, okra, peas, beans, melons, green peppers, chiles, asparagus, basil, cilantro, parsley, rosemary, oregano, chives. Oh, and fruit: figs (from an 18 foot high tree), plums, blueberries, pears, and we’ve now put in strawberries, raspberries, apples and rhubarb. Not only are we proud of our garden, but it has a very practical value—we bought not one single vegie from the stores or the farmers markets all summer long, and I learned to can (pickles, chutneys, jams) and the freezer is full of all the rest of the overflow.

During the season we spent many hours outside every day, with the vegies, fruit trees, hatching chicks and all the other thousand and one things one has to do keep up 5 acres. And we are happy as clams. (Well Paul is as happy as a kosher analog to clams!) Paul and I both love our “farmlet” and while I lean to organizing the vegies, he lovingly tends the new apples and pomegranates, the roses, camelias, gardenias, azaleas and whole bunches of other things. Oh yes, and did I say he put in an extensive irrigation system last spring too—so that now we have water faucets wherever we could ever possibly want water.

A bit of a hiccup in our summer was that I went for a routine colonoscopy at the beginning of August and the next morning was carted off to the hospital in an ambulance with what they first thought was an infection that they never did discover the name for. Four days in the hospital (the first two very scary and on morphine), and then 2 months with a wonky digestive system and very low energy. It doesn’t make me too excited about the next “routine” colonoscopy—maybe they will have perfected a “virtual” one by then?

Chooks and guinea fowl—how satisfying. We first acquired guineas nearly 4 years ago. To eat the myriads of ticks on the property. They have reduced the tick population to almost zero. Wonderful. But even had they not, we would still love them. They have quirky characters and the babies delight us no end. Read some of the stories on my chook blog (http://thechookblog.blogspot.com/).

We got our first chooks about 3 years ago and love them too—especially the eggs that they faithfully deliver daily.  Chooks, being domesticated, lay eggs all year—guineas, Spring to Fall. For the last 2 summers, we have let a few of the hens sit on eggs—and the chicks have augmented the flock. Almost too much. Of the 19 chicks we hatched last summer, 16 turned out to be roosters! Ro-roh. Way too much testosterone. So we learned to slaughter them. We do so with as much compassion and prayer as we can, cradling them all the way to the knife and even holding them in death. There is something quite miraculous about eating our own chooks.  Apart from the fact that they taste way better than even the “organic” ones we get from the store, there is a sense of connection with the earth and a gratitude for what has been provided for us.

Paul’s daughter, Nataw, still lives with us while she studies Early Childhood Development at Alamance Community College. After a bit of a rocky start (well, and why not? First her biological mother had died and then her adoptive mother, and she did not want another one), we now love each other dearly and she is so very easy to live with.

Paul’s son Shem lives a couple of hours away in Richmond, Virginia, working in an upscale health food store and sharing an apartment with a couple of friends. He comes down often and Paul and I stop by to visit on trips up north.

And Paul’s oldest, Ian, lived with us for several months after a traumatic break-up with his girlfriend of 5 years. Even with the emotional upheaval, though, he managed to graduate from UNC with a BA in Political Science and Entrepreneurship—at the age of 41! Quite an achievement! He’s now building up his business in web design (www.mishagos.com —you should go there!) and playing in a band with 2 young women, and living only 20 minutes away.

My brother, Peter Geoffrey, still lives close by—and we meet for coffee every Wednesday morning. We had both been so busy that we had been seeing each other less and less—and I figured that, after all those years of living on different continents, it was just not on. Thus the weekly chats which we both look forward to. (He has countless blogs and links—google him to see what he’s currently up to.)

Our sister, Maggi, who lives in England, suffered the devastating loss of her husband, John, after a kidney/pancreas transplant 16 months ago. She has been over to stay with us for a month or so over Christmas/Hannukah for the last 2 years now and we love having her with us. We hope eventually she will be able to arrange work so that she can spend more time over here—maybe half a year in England, half a year here.

Our other 3 siblings—Chris, Jon, and Susie—and their wives and offspring are scattered around this country and all doing well. Several of us gathered together this year in Dallas to celebrate the marriage of our niece, Aisha, to Armando. What a lovely time. I met up with my other two (half) sisters, Kat and Annabel, in England a year ago, and am so happy to have re-established contact with them.

Dad and Anne still live near Brighton on the south coast of England. They enjoy travelling and spending time with friends. Dad and his brother recently finished years of work researching the Gilson family tree, and sent discs to each one of us—to be continued! I hear that Dad and Anne take a weekly walk (or is it two?) along 7 miles of waterfront. He turns 85 this year and is going strong.

Paul—what can I say? This husband of mine is beyond compare. After nearly 3 years of marriage we are more in love than ever. Paul is finally practicing again as a chiropractor, having jumped through countless hoops to regain his licence—which he had let lapse after Saura died. We have turned over a lovely room at the front of the house to be his office, and he will be seeing patients part time. He’s very happy to be practicing again (his web address is www.YouHealIt.com).

 I’ve decided to reconnect with the academic community, after drawing back a bit when I withdrew from UNC. I’m looking forward to attending a professional conference in March and am looking to teach more—maybe in community colleges.

I also have been working with a few older people, tutoring them on their own computers. I am proud to say that my oldest student is 92 years old and that she is tickled pink to be surfing the net and reading her emails.

My dear aunt, Dolores Hruby, died in March after a 16 year battle with breast cancer. The last year was pretty grim for her. She and my 90 year old uncle needed a lot of support, so their 3 children (my cousins) and I would each fly in to Grand Rapids for a week or 2 at a time. Although it was hard to see her suffering so, I will be forever grateful that I was free to serve her that way, and to be with her in her last year.

I have finally found a church that I can call home. It’s an Episcopal church, The Advocate (check out the website—it’s pretty fantastic--http://www.ouradvocate.org/), and I’m becoming more and more involved in things. I’ve worked with crews on houses for Habitat for Humanity, spent time at the homeless men’s shelter in Chapel Hill, and was asked to serve on a committee to help a member of the congregation explore her call to ordained ministry. I love the services, where Paul sometimes joins me, and the vicar, Lisa, is an absolute gem. Paul and I also go to Synagogue often.

Talking of synagogue, I now bake challah, taught to me by a wonderful Jewish woman, every Friday for the Sabbath. And that got me started—I started making gluten free breads, cakes and cookies for Paul; and now bake that stuff for several friends too, as well as all the bread needs for the family. What a joy!  

Now we are at the beginning of 2009. We anticipate another bountiful harvest, more chicks, greater wisdom, and compassion for all those who struggle to make sense of life. May we be open to the needs of our friends and neighbors and families, and those in our communities who don’t have as much as we do.

I miss Tasmania dreadfully—and all the friends who gathered round me during my 20 years of living in Australia. And yet, I have never regretted being on this side of the world, where I can share in the life events (good and bad) of my family.

Sometimes I feel badly that I have not been in touch with you all as much as you are with me. Please forgive my silences and know that I think of you and pray for you, even when I am not writing to you!

I love my garden

I love my garden. I love my garden. Oh goodness, I love my garden. This is the fourth year I've planted a vegie garden and I can't believe how far I've come. I say "I" because I'm the chief enthusiast for the vegies. Paul loves to eat them. And he certainly contributes huge amounts of time (about which more in a moment). But the impetus and decisions are mostly mine. He is the tree and bush man and overall imaginer of great projects - like the incredible irrigation system he put in over the winter. I keep telling him how happy I am that I married a man who is ept.

This year it seemed that raised beds would be a good idea - Maggi suggested it actually, as a way to clear some of the wood lying around on the ground. Well, it turned out to be a lot more than that. Of course. And the result is a thing of beauty. In fact, such a thing of beauty that Paul has moved my "wedding" bench (the wrought iron bench he gave me as a wedding present) into the middle of the garden so that I (or we) can sit and just drink in the beauty of it when we have finished our day's chores.

But the main reason for writing the blog today is this: we were tying cross pieces to the tomato stakes the other night (to make a sort of trellis), both of us efficiently and correctly tying the particular hitch that ties two pieces of perpendicular wood together. I can't remember the name of the hitch. But I do remember my Dad (great Eagle Scout, he) teaching us how to tie that, and other, knots when we were kids. He would take us out to the woods after Sunday lunch had been cleared away, leaving Ma to some peace and quiet, and delighting us 6 kids with games and projects. And one of our projects was to build a "fort" out of found pieces of wood. I remember it as if it were yesterday. And I think that's where my love of knots and cordage were born.

The other reason for writing is so that the last sad post about John should not be at the top of my blog any more. Maggi was here for Christmas (5 weeks!) and it was the beginning of a healing time for her, as well as wonderful for us to have her here. She is back in England these days and has just recently moved from the house she had lived in with John. Still in the same area, she now lives in an old Police Station!

More about the garden (and of course the chooks and guineas) later.

Very sad news

John Walden, the husband of my sister Maggi, died last Friday.
John went in to hospital the previous Friday night for a kidney and pancreas transplant and the operation was a success. He came through beautifully and was actually producting insulin by the next day, which meant that he was no longer diabetic. They took him back in to surgery on Monday to sort out some internal bleeding, and that was OK too. But back in ICU a series of "seriously untoward incidents" (I think that's what they called it) happened, and he was deprived of oxygen. They kept him on life support for the next few days, just in case, but by Friday they were sure that his brain was dead. And so we - Maggi, John's mother (Jill), his best friend from childhood (Karen) and friends Andrea and David - gathered round his bed, drank a bottle of very good red wine, broke bread that he had made just before he went in, and allowed the doctors to turn off the machines.
He was 44. Maggi is - well, what can I say? - Maggi is suffering. And it breaks my heart to see her so. And there is nothing that I can say or do. Except sit with her. Like Job's friends.
I had jumped on a plane as soon as it was evident that things had gone awry. So I arrived at the hospital a few hours before he died. And can stay with her till after the funeral.
When is the funeral? Well, that's the awful thing, is that we don't know yet. Because of the nature of his death, they need to do a post mortem. And that's not till Monday. And they can't issue a death certificate until that's all finished. Hopefully after Monday, but it's not certain.
We are tentatively planning the funeral for next Friday (a week tomorrow) but it could turn out to be not till the following week.
Susie, our other sister, has been here for the last 5 days - but had to go home today to her family in Texas. Peter, Maggi's twin brother, arrives tomorrow. And one friend or another has been here with us all week.
This is such a sad time.
And yet...small miracles and graces have been happening all week. And, thankfully, Maggi notices. Some of the bureaucratic stuff we've had to do has been greatly eased by gracious, compassionate people. And I thank God for each one of those.
Not least has been that we 3 sisters have had this time together. One night we sat here in our flannel PJs drinking port, laughing uproariously one minute at something remembered from our childhood, crying and just sitting with Maggi in her pain the next.
If you want to contact us, please email me - ega at unc dot edu
And pray for Maggi.

How can I describe how wonderful it is to have a husband who wakes me in the morning with a cup of tea (properly brewed of course) on a tray with a vase of freshly picked gardenias? Honestly, I feel like a princess. It’s not always gardenias. And not always flowers at all. But more often than not, there is the cup of tea. This helps to make up for the disappointment of waking up to find I’m alone. Paul often wakens early and slips out – only to return later with the cup of tea. What a blessing he is.

We are grandparents! Of approximately 20 keets (baby guineas) and 10 chicks. All except 8 of which were hatched under Mrs. Buffy - the broody hen we had borrowed from another farmer. They hatched nearly 2 weeks ago and she, bless her heart, seems not to know (or care) which are keets and which are chicks - they swarm around her in a state of constant motion (hence our inability to count the precise number) and every last one of them tucks in under her ample wings when it's time for a nap.

We had to bring 2 of the keets inside for special care - one with a seeming broken leg (who died after 5 days of a feisty battle) and one with little curled up toes which are now almost straight, thanks to the splints we put on him - kind of like snowshoes. His name is Big (because he was bigger than Little, the one who died) but now we've brought him 2 other healthy ones to keep him company he's actually quite small - but we continue to call him Big. He runs to you to be petted and will fall asleep on his feet when cooed at. We are totally enchanted, Paul, Nataw and I. (No kidding!)

We lost one chick to a black snake - which was caught in the act of strangling it. But not before it had snaffled down 6 eggs from the nest in the chook house - we know it was 6 because we could see the 6 egg shaped lumps in the snake's body. Ian, who is fearless of non-poisonous snakes and kind to animals, picked it up and took it a few miles down the road so that it can eat the mice at the horse farm there. Today, we are building a snake-proof enclosure for the chicks in a corner of the chook house.

Monday, as well as being Memorial Day, was our first wedding anniversary. And what a lovely one it was - our first year of marriage, that is, and the anniversary itself. We had breakfast outside on the deck and I gave Paul his present - a registration to a one-day writing and yoga workshop to be led by the UNC teacher whom he's been studying with this year. I had wanted it to be a surprise and so had had some email correspondence with Richard, asking him not to let on to Paul about it. And it was indeed a complete surprise - it brought tears to his eyes, the dear man. It was such fun to plan that.

The rest of the day was very mellow - we went to a nice co-op for lunch and then came home and laid in the hammock in the shade for most of the afternoon - meditating, snoozing, reading, talking.

Ian (Paul's oldest) and his girlfriend, Valeda, came over for a cookout - and it was just one of those evenings where you keep saying afterwards "oh, wasn't that a nice evening?"

We have been thinking over the last months about a name for our "farm" and Bed and Breakfast to-be. And I was drawn to naming it after the place where very dear friends live in Tasmania - "The Deepings." I knew it had special meaning for them, but could not remember what. And so had written to Roslyn, asking her to tell me the story again, and to ask if they would consider the possibility of us using the name.

On the morning of our anniversary came her reply. I quote, "We would be absolutely thrilled, honoured, and we are definitely absolutely humbled, that you should want to pick up the name The Deepings and carry it on to the far side of the earth." I guess that means "yes, go ahead"!!! Yay!

The name itself comes from a collection of villages on the east coast of England and there are some wonderful saints and personalities from the 6-7th centuries associated with that area - St Guthlac and St Pega.

So we will be "The Deepings at (or "of"?) Hillsborough" adding the last part to make it our own, and are so happy to have that connection with Roslyn and Adrian's home.

Talking about names, Ian, who just happens to be a web designer designed me a super website for my new enterprise tutoring in computer usage, The Last Coach. Check it out - I'm really pleased with it.

That's all for now. My latest gluten-free bread for Paul is rising in the kitchen - I now have found the knack of getting it to be truly "feather light." I love to bake and cook for him - he is one of the most appreciative people I've ever cooked for. I think being so much in love makes the baking more special for me and probably makes it taste even better for him! Maybe.

Our garden is a thing of beauty - and so much pleasure. We got a truck load of horse compost from a friend last week - Nataw and I driving out, loading up the friend's truck, driving back, shoveling it all out, driving the truck back, driving our car home - and have added it to all our plants, vegies, trees, bushes, and flowers alike. We 3 work outside for a couple hours every day - right after breakfast, and then in the evening - and an afternoon siesta or meditation has become the standard in this house.

Our chicken hen has been sitting on the 24 guinea eggs and 4 chicken eggs for what seems forever (3 and a half weeks) and the babes are due this weekend. We are so excited. And, now that those silly guinea hens have seen what they should be doing, one of them (sometimes joined by a friend) has taken to sitting on another nest in the chook house. They are a source of constant amusement.

Mothers Day on Sunday - Ian and Nataw (Shem was away) made me a special brunch - and she brought me an arrangement of flowers from the garden in the evening. I keep saying "oh, thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you" for these amazing and wonderful stepchildren of mine. Not only are they just such a delight, but they love me too - and as a bonus, we get to spend time with them all - Nataw living at home with us at the moment, and the boys being so close by.

Now that school is over, I'm out of work. Ro-roh.

So I had this great idea. You know I used to do a lot of computer training? So I'm putting together flyers, ads, website to get the word out that I am just the person you need to come into your home and hold your hand and teach you - at your own pace and on your own computer - how to use the damn thing. I'm aiming more at older people. I know there are free courses in libraries - but you get what you pay for. I think this thing of mine has great potential. I'm going to go and talk with people in retirement homes too. And the name of this operation? "The Last Coach" (you'll ever need). "Coach" is an in word. People have personal coaches, and exercise coaches and who knows what else. I don't expect this to be full time, but to fill in even when I'm doing adjunct work.

I had great reports from my students at Meredith - one wrote that I was "awesome" - another, that she had learned SO much. I so enjoyed having them.