Chickenminnie’s Weblog

Another of life’s milestones occurred this week: I turned 50. That’s five decades or exactly one half a century to put it in more eye-opening terms.  It’s a big milestone for me because my mother lost her battle with breast cancer at the tender age of 49, and even though I live a much healthier life than she did I still wondered how much genetics play a role in longevity.  Fifty always seemed like some sort of magic number to me; surely if I could manage to live longer than my mother I would be home free in some way.

A lot of my friends have turned that magic number as well and it’s interesting to see the variety of approaches to being plunked firmly in the midst of middle age. Some friends have embarked on assorted varieties of mid-life crisis behavior while other have just been profoundly depressed. I don’t plan to do any of those things although I will confess to having a newly found fascination with old people who can still get out of their own way.

The mantra I am adopting for the second half of my life is something I will call the “Ethel Jordan Principle”. Ethel is a 99 year old dynamo who is a friend of the Professor’s. We stop in to visit her from time to time and she is truly amazing; she still lives in her own house, has a huge vegetable garden, and while her son has finally taken her car keys away she is as sharp as a proverbial tack.  Ken asked her one time what her secret was to such robust longevity and she replied, “I never gave any thought to getting older…I just kept busy.”

I firmly believe that it really is as simple as that. Keep busy. Don’t waste time internalizing every ache and pain; living an active and joy filled life really is mind over matter.

Here’s to another fifty years.

This morning, as I went out to warm up the Saabaru for the morning trek to the gym I noted the temperature that my little buggy cheerfully provides: six degrees.  It occurred to me that perhaps I had finally reached Dedicated Girl status; that enviable gym rat status that I had always hoped to attain and admired in a lot of other people, but had never quite nailed. Typically I would attend faithfully for several weeks, sometimes months and then sort of taper off in boredom.

The last two years have been different, though. Shortly after joining Gold’s a tall, gorgeous black woman came up to me at the gym,  thrust out the most amazingly sculpted arm and introduced herself as Crystal Joy Brown.  She gave me a quick rundown of her classes and said she hoped I would join her. A few weeks later my gym buddy Maryann told me she took one of Crystal’s classes and it was fantastic, so of course I had to give it a try.

The classes, part tent revival and part sweat fest, were amazingly intense but somehow Crystal managed to make it fun. She made funny faces, clowned with the class and made a point of knowing nearly everyone’s name.  Someone from the class would invariably be called upon to join her on stage for part of a set to the cheers of the entire class. I was hooked. I later learned that Crystal had once weighed in at nearly 400 lbs. making me realize that gorgeous arms might actually be in the realm of possibility for a mere mortal like myself.

A couple of years ago Crystal posted a Holiday Fitness Challenge on Facebook whose goal was fairly simple: do something active every day between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day.  We were encouraged to post our progress on the wall for everyone to see and cheered for one another along the way. Being accountable to a bunch of people turned out to be just what I needed to get myself into the habit of going to the gym on a regular basis and I began removing the obstacles (real or imagined) to getting to the gym.  It has worked out well, and I’m happy to say that I’m a morning regular at Gold’s.

Dedicated Girl status has had some amazing benefits.  I’m healthier than ever before, have an amazing amount of energy and working out on a regular basis is a fantastic confidence builder; pushing myself to the limit in a Spin marathon or surviving a Sunday morning Boot Camp without hurling made me realize I could do pretty much anything. The relationship between exercise and maintaining a balanced and sane life is very real, and I have come to believe that exercise is pretty much the Cure for everything that ails humanity. A sort of side bonus in all of this is that I have made some amazing and inspiring friends who are on the same journey of self discovery; birds of a feather do indeed flock together.

I’d better get to the gym now…

The Professor and I are huge Jon Stewart fans, so when he announced the Rally to Restore Sanity in Washington, DC  our interest was piqued.  We had never been to DC and the entire premise of the rally was appealing: a day for like-minded, intelligent and moderate people to gather together to demonstrate that there are a whole lot of us who oppose the shrill and meaningless crap dished out by mainstream media.

The day after the announcement a Rally Facebook page appeared and it became clear that this gathering in Washington was generating a lot of interest; people from all over the country began posting their intention to attend, making the Fox News prediction of eight or nine thousand people seem rather short sighted.  In the weeks leading up to the rally I began to realize that we were planning to attend not just a comedy show, but an event of historic significance; it was apparent that even Comedy Central had no idea how big this thing would be.

We decided to fly to DC rather than do seven hours on the train and it turned out to be a good decision; train tickets for that date were scarce and hotel rooms were vanishing faster than a snowfall in May. When we arrived at the airport it was fairly apparent that there were a lot of people going to the same place, but the sheer numbers of people heading to the National Mall was not evident until we tried to catch a bus to downtown DC. There was a massive line at the Ground Transportation area of Dulles and dozens of van and taxi drivers cashing in on this influx of people. We opted for the bus and a cheery bus driver lady accommodated as many people as she possibly could by packing people sardine style into the bus; I’m pretty sure it was well over the legal limit for riders. We had fun chatting with some of the people heading to the rally on the 40 minute ride to DC and I was fascinated by the diversity of the group; there was a group of students from the University of Kentucky, a woman from Cologne, Germany, a pair of MIT grad students and a mother and son from Maine to name a few.

Arriving in downtown DC a couple hours before the rally we decided to leave our backpacks at the hotel and then wander to the National Mall. We located the Phoenix Park Hotel a few blocks from the Mall and they were kind enough to let us check in early; after freshening up we headed for the rally and for the first time realized how huge this event was. There were people everywhere! Great masses of people were pouring from Penn Station and emerging from buses of every kind.

Once we were on the Mall it was a crush of people. We tried to get as close to the stage as possible or at least near a Jumbotron, but it was obvious that there were people who had claimed their spots very early on. I have never seen so much humanity in my life!  In order to get a good view people resorted to climbing the trees, sitting on top of the porta-potties and one young man who perched himself on a traffic signal. We finally resigned ourselves to checking out all the wonderful signs people were carrying and not dwelling on the fact that we really couldn’t see anything. There were signs expressing sentiments of every possible kind but the common theme was one of moderation, tolerance and peace.

Normally I hate throngs of people and avoid them at all costs, but this mob was different; no one was cranky, rushed or drunk. People were smiling, considerate and calm in spite of the throngs of people. The one observation I kept making was that it was an intelligent crowd of 250,000 people; a rarity in this time and it was refreshing.

In spite of the crowds, the lack of cell service and the huge lines at restaurants I’m really glad we went. I felt like we were really a part of historical gathering together of sane, hard working people who just want our country to return to something we recognize and can be proud of.  If that was Jon Stewart’s goal then it was accomplished.

In the ten years I have lived in my squat little postwar ranch, “remodel the bathroom” has been on my do list.  I did what I could when I moved in; new paint,  flooring and sink but I couldn’t afford to replace the aging tub and yellowing plastic tub surround under a cave-like soffit.  It was the most hated room in my house and it took a visit by relatives (whose bathroom is perfect to the last detail) to finally make me realize that something had to be done. Now.

Since this is a project that has been mentally in the works for years, a large number of the pieces had been picked out and I knew what changes I wanted to make to the configuration of the room.  The tub needed to be removed which was a decision I wrestled with for several months; my brother the contractor said it would negatively affect the value of the house but in the end I opted to forgo the tub in favor of a large shower stall.  Removing the tub and shortening the adjacent hall closet gave me a roomy and convenient closet accessible from inside the bathroom; no longer would I have to leave the bathroom to fetch a bar of soap or roll of toilet paper!

The ceiling was the first area of attack.  For some reason it was covered with plywood and then painted; my guess is that they had a mold problem at one time and covered it with lauan to keep the mold from coming through . The removal of the soffit revealed plywood all the way across, which made the perfect foundation for the tongue and groove red cedar I planned for the ceiling.  Cedar is mold, mildew and rot resistant and emits a lovely smell when the steam from the shower comes in contact with it. The installation of a new bath fan and light to replace the old noisy one completed the ceiling.

The next big job was the removal of the 600 pound cast iron tub which was probably original to the house.  Removing the plumbing wall helped us get it tipped forward onto a couple of furniture dollies, then wheeled it through the house and out the front door.  Leveraging a fresh fall of snow, we were able to get the tub out to the side of the road by sliding it along; the tub disappeared a couple of days later as things seem to do around here.

Having an empty hole where our tub once was really drove home the necessity of having to get going on a replacement, and I felt a little panicky knowing that I was going to have to drive to my shower for the next few days.  Fortunately Ken felt the same way, and he began framing up the new shower area the same day.  The next day while I was at work he put in the plumbing and the cement board.  Tiling was not far away!

Being a self proclaimed rock hound,  I chose 2 x 2 slate mosaic tile to surround the shower in shades of gold, gray, charcoal and tan with the occasional plum or orange tinged slate which has a sort of organic and Zen-like feel.  It went in fairly easily and I was glad I had done a preliminary sealing of the tiles in our basement fume tent before installation because it really helped to get the medium gray grout sponged off the uneven slates.

While I was busy tiling, Ken was completing the drywall in the closet and putting up wainscoting around the lower half of the bathroom.  He was also getting the plumbing ready for the new pedestal sink which was replacing the old vanity.  The wainscoting was painted a creamy ironstone white to brighten things up a bit and Ken lobbied for a rich gold for the area above the wainscoting.   Gold was not a color I had considered, but a few days later he commented on my sister’s gold dining room and I had to agree that it looked nice.  She happened to have some left over paint I could try and when I put the sample on the wall I was sold.

After five days without a shower we were finally ready to test drive the shower for the first time; that was a glorious day indeed!  I had the honor of going first while Ken examined the plumbing for any leaks; he pronounced it good and we had a shower once again.

It was good to have a functioning shower again, but finding a cork floor to bring the project closer to completion was proving to be frustrating. It may seem like an odd floor to want in a bathroom, but it’s organic, warm and cushiony on the feet, antimicrobial and extremely durable.  Most of the cork I was finding locally was bonded to a substrate which you definitely don’t want in a bathroom; finding the thin cork tiles was a lot more difficult.  I finally had to settle for my second pattern choice, but it actually looks great down and feels fantastic under bare feet.

The final design element was the tempered glass shower door and trying to decide between clear glass and patterned glass was a challenge; it was a decision I waited to make until the tile was up.  Once I saw how fantastic the tile looked, I knew there was no way I was going to hide it behind frosted glass.  The clear glass means that using a squeegee after you shower is a must but the effect is worth it.  We nailed a set of antique tobacco hooks above the shower to hang items within easy reach, created towel bars from iron plumbing parts spray painted wrought iron black and purchased fluffy new towels.

The whole thing took six weeks and was totally worth all the mess and nuisance; I still do the occasional double take when I walk past the bathroom. And it’s nice to have the last big project behind me!

Dedicated Guy ran past my house today. But I’m not surprised, because he runs by my house every day no matter how cold it is, no matter how slushy, rainy or hot.  I even noticed him running past my house one Christmas morning while the rest of the neighbors were cleaning up their wrapping paper.  His consistency and discipline are astonishing to me, and I have even taken to nicknaming him Dedicated Guy. If he happens to be running by on one of my forays into the garden, I’ll call out, “Hi Dedicated Guy”, which elicits a little chuckle from him.

He has made me wonder what sort of magic he possesses, and I dangle the Dedicated Girl Status carrot in front of myself whenever I consider a workout.  Last year a couple of things happened that pushed me closer to my Dedicated Girl goal: the Professor bought me a membership to Gold’s in Niskayuna, and my hours at worked got changed from 7 to 3 to a 9 to 5 workday.

The new gym is gorgeous… clean, lots of classes and in a nice part of town.  My old gym was okay, but parking was a hassle and it was farther away in a run down strip mall containing one of those super cheap food stores.  I got tired of finding cast-off shopping carts nuzzled up against my car when I emerged,  and the parking lot was dark and unmaintained so the incentive to go just wasn’t there.

The other incentive was a change in work hours which, while devastating at first,  suddenly opened up all kinds of morning workout opportunities.  Given the incredible choice of morning classes I was able to try all kinds of things: Body Combat, Iyengar Yoga, and Spin (of which I have become something of a devotee).  I’m a morning regular now, and it is interesting to note that nearly all the clientele at that hour is around my age or considerably older.  The same folks show up every morning like some sort of unintentional little clique and it’s nice to get a nod or a smile at that hour; it’s a very different crowd from the aloof after work types.

So how do I know I have reached Dedicated Girl status?  After waking up a couple of weeks ago to several inches of snow and immediately discarding it as an excuse not to go.  That’s what Dedicated Guy would do.

Another one of those “life milestones” occurred this spring which make me realize how old I am: my daughter bought a house.

She enlisted my help on this project and we began perusing house listings in December; our lives soon became consumed with the back and forth emailing of ads, and weekend drive-bys of anything that looked remotely interesting and in her price range.  That was complicated somewhat by the fact that she could not afford to spend a huge amount, but Capital District real estate was not suffering the value sag that other areas of the country were experiencing, so bargains were harder to come by.  On the up side there was an $8,000.00 tax incentive for anyone purchasing a house before December 1, so it seemed like a good time for her to take the plunge.

It was interesting to see my daughter’s reactions to the various places we looked at and to see her wrap her head around the real meanings of real estate listings;  “convenient to local highways” meant the house was located on an on ramp,  and “needs updating” usually meant the house was completely trashed. After looking at a half dozen houses it was clear that she was undergoing some adjustment in her expectations while her personal wish list was being whittled down.

My responsibility during all of this was to remain as neutral as possible while pointing out potential pitfalls and positives; this was not always an easy task.  Having looked at nearly a hundred houses during my own search I was quick to notice rotting eaves, crumbing foundations and other perils of the first time buyer without becoming too enchanted by a pretty piece of woodwork.  I knew that if she looked at enough houses and was patient with the process, a house would come along that felt “right”.

After about six months and dozens of house tours, we looked at a little bungalow in the Upper Union area of Schenectady that finally felt “right”.  It was an older home with good bones, gorgeous floors and woodwork and new mechanicals. The house was less square footage than her apartment, but had a walkup attic that could be converted to a master suite some day.  Bonus.  The kitchen cabinets were cheesy, but it had all new appliances including a washer and dryer that came with the house.  Another bonus. And the house had central air…serious bonus!

It has been several weeks since the closing and she is now settled into her very first home.  I am happy to have been associated with the process, and happier still with the independent manner in which she handled the transaction.  Some of my friends have expressed surprise that a 26 year old unmarried woman would purchase a house on her own, but I’m not surprised in the least; I expected nothing less.

I know…I have not been doing much blogging of late.  It’s spring, and projects definitely trump blogging any day!

My latest project is a new tool shed which is a replica of an old “back house”.  For several years I have been looking around for a vintage one to dismantle and move to my back yard for conversion into a tool shed, but most of the ones I have found are in such disrepair that it just wasn’t worth it.  A few weeks ago Ken actually suggested that we build one ourselves.  This was interesting since I’m usually the one who cooks up projects, but after thinking about it for a while I realized that there was an ulterior motive; the new tool shed will get my gardening stuff out of the barn leaving more room for the Professor to spread out.  It was kind of a win-win for everyone.

The basic shape was framed up in no time, and since I wanted cedar shingles Ken gladly handed over the hammer for that particular brand of tedium.  It’s not hard to see why having a house shingled in cedar is so pricey…it’s a lot of work!  While I was busy shingling, Ken fabricated a door (complete with a crescent moon) and attached a simple tin roof.  He added some shelves, and my little tool shed was done!

The outhouse came out great; it holds  all my gardening stuff in close proximity to the house (and I have a lot of it) and smells wonderfully of cedar inside.  It’s so handy and roomy that I don’t even mind being displaced from the barn!