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Tuesday, September 28, 2004 Truth Or Dare
How many of you have ever played the game of “Truth-or-Dare?” We've all heard of it, and Madonna made it quite famous with her tour and tell-all documentary. But, have you ever played it? I never have, although I've been in situations where it has been suggested and, luckily, I've been able to avoid getting drawn into it. I just don't think it is the right game for me! Now, don't get me wrong – I'm no prude … I would not hesitate to tell the truth on many a question, or take a dare on just as many others. It's just that … as Jack Nicholson's character in A Few Good Men said, I just fear that some in the groups I might be playing with just “… can't handle the truth!” Or worse, might be shocked by how far I might go on a dare. So, perhaps to pave the way for any future chance of the opportunity of playing “Truth-or-Dare” that might arise for me, I might need to “come-clean” on a few truths now so my 'real-life' friends who read my column will be “prepared” for what might be admitted to them at any future date. We'll start off with a little introductory background information and 'e-a-s-e' our way into some things that some of my friends may, or may not, know … Question: “What were you like as a child?”
Question: “We've read your xxxxxxxxx profile. But, what other things are there to know about you?”
Question: “Okay. Now let's move on to some harder questions. Are you ready? Truth-or-Dare? Would you ever inflict any damage to anyone's personal property?”
Question: “Truth-or-Dare? Have you ever used “creative methods” to get out of a speeding ticket?
Question: “Truth-or-Dare? Would you ever buy an outfit, wear it for one event, and return it for a refund?”
Question: “Truth-or-Dare? What is the most public place you've ever (as Bob Eubanks would say on the Newlywed Game) *made-whoopee*?”
Question: “Truth-or-Dare? Have you ever been streaking?”
Question: “How far would you go on a Dare?”
So, My Dear Readers, now it's my turn to ask you a question . . .
Originally published Tuesday June 24, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 5:10 PM | Tuesday, September 21, 2004 Death Does Not Become Her
It was a tragic death that came without any warning. There was no time to prepare for an inevitable departure, just a sudden, empty void where moments before a full heart had known joy. As one who has always strived for a non-judgmental approach to life, open to situations and events with a free-spirited attitude, and a lust for a wide variety of relationships and experiences, it is still difficult to wrap my understanding around the concept of intentional betrayal. I find it hard to comprehend someone feeling the need to attempt to betray me when honesty, in whatever form it might take, would be received at face value, simply for what it was – the situation or circumstance as it was – reality and truth. Maybe if someone just met me, they might not know my true soul but, those who know me should “know me” well enough to know that I expect honesty in its simplest and purest form in all of my relationships. But, for you to knowingly, willingly, perpetuate an unnecessary lie that, without warning, was revealed to me by someone with no knowledge of your deception, and no reason to try to hurt me, literally caused a piece of my heart to die; a death that was preventable by you merely telling the truth. And, what did you gain by the deception? Nothing. There was nothing to gain by it. Which makes it all the more incomprehensible as to why you would maintain this lie for months instead of just being honest at the onset. Roget's Thesaurus doesn't mince words when it comes to how it views the word – betrayal; and neither does Merriam-Webster's Dictionary when it comes to the word – deceive:
Ahhhhhhh! There we have it – LYING! Plain and simple. No fancy words, no flowery connotations, just five little letters, strung together, to spell out the word … L – Y – I – N – G! Didn't your mother teach you that lying was wrong? I'm sure she did; she was a decent woman who wanted the best for you, and who was always there for you when you needed her. Now that she is gone, are you going to discredit her memory with your behavior? And, what kind of example does this set for your children, or for your new stepchildren? I am nowhere near perfect, and I'm not claiming to be a saint, but I do give my very heart and soul to my true friends – with all of the respect, love, commitment and honesty that real friendship should possess. Perhaps that is my downfall in expecting others to have the same dedication to the meaning of friendship that I hold dear but, to me, true friendship is a relationship that is open, honest and shares all -- the good, the bad, and the ugly -- "... that's what friends are for." In the midst of my pain, I still found the strength to hold it together; I considered your feelings and the ensuing consequences (see? I still respected our friendship), and I refrained from inflicting any retaliatory damages that, in all honesty, would have been much worse for you than the pain I had just received. And, believe me, that pain was almost unbearable! In hindsight, would I have done anything different? As they say, hindsight is always 20/20 so, I guess we'll never know for sure now, will we?
Originally published Thursday June 12, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 1:32 PM | Tuesday, September 14, 2004 Naked Women And Liquor
Naked women and liquor sounds like the prime ingredients for an exciting bachelor party, right? But, for us, naked women and liquor were the only things waiting for us when we recently moved into our 1898 Victorian farmhouse. When I unlocked the front door to allow the movers to begin unloading, I found two handcrafted terra-cotta statues of naked women sitting in the right front parlor floor. Then, in the kitchen were seven small bottles of alcohol -- three Di Saronno Amaretto, one Triple Orange Grand Marnier, two Baileys Irish Cream, and one Kahlua. The statues are quite unusual, very interesting, and most intriguing. Neither our Realtor, nor the Seller's Realtor, knows anything about the statues or the liquor. The Seller hasn't been in the house since well before it went on the market in October of last year. The only persons who have been in the house since our final walk-through with the contractor three weeks prior to closing was the contractor, who was doing work to ready the house for closing (he knows nothing about the items), and a maid that I hired to clean the house the day before we moved in (she knows nothing about the items, either). The only person who had a key to the house was the Seller's Realtor, who would arrive, when needed, to open the house. Strange, huh?  Here is the first woman ... She is approximately 10" tall, sitting on a bench, on a base that is 8" x 10" in a shape roughly resembling a mis-shapen figure eight, and the piece is unsigned.  Here is the second woman ... She is approximately 7.5" tall, sitting on a base that is 8" x 13" in the shape of a leaf, and this piece is also unsigned. The detail in both is amazing. You can see the finger marks where the terra-cotta clay has been worked by hand, forming each detail, down to the nipples and pubic hair, yet the faces are almost devoid of expression. The one sitting on the leaf appears bald (in the photo), but actually has her hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head. Her face is left almost “unfinished.” The other has a little more “character” to her face but, still, she lacks any real “emotion.” Both have that “Earth-Mother” look, with the heavy, pear-shaped, paunch to the stomach. Many have already speculated on their meaning – we've heard everything from good luck charms, symbols of health, wealth, prosperity, and fertility, as well as others who have speculated that they have more sinister roots, with one person even suggesting that they were left by a passing coven of witches. Regardless of what others may think, both occupy a prominent place on the mantle in our right front parlor. I would love to know where they came from, who made them, who left them, and what (if anything) that they mean. Does anyone recognize these women? Any ideas? Any suggestions? I would love to hear your thoughts. Originally published Tuesday June 03, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 6:32 PM | Tuesday, September 07, 2004 Soulmates Throughout Time
Alex,* for lack of a better phrase, was not born with a silver spoon in her mouth. On the contrary, she was born on the borderline of lower middle class and upper poverty. She was a bright, bubbly, highly intelligent child – more than a bit precocious, perhaps – and exceedingly-gifted beyond her years. She was also plagued by the demons of childhood traumas in the forms of physical, emotional and mental abuses inflicted on her by her father, paternal grandmother, members of her extended family, schoolmates, and even so-called friends. She withdrew further and further into herself, and began absorbing all of the negative words she was hearing as "truths," and continued to incorporate them into her personal concepts in relation to her own self-esteem and self-worth. Fragile does not even begin to describe the shattered psyche that was precariously teetering on adulthood. We won't even mention the dangers of a whole new set of evils lurking just around the corner. Alex spent a sheltered adolescence without dating, or parties, or any of the things that normal teenagers experience. She spent most of her time alone, locked in her room with soulful music, journals, writing poetry, and dreaming of a whole wide world of endless possibilities outside the confines of her parents' home. At eighteen, this shy, naïve, inexperienced girl was allowed to get her first job, where she was immediately besieged by a pack of wild dogs, in the form of older men, who smelled fresh naivety, and a smoldering, untapped sensuality, and were moving in for the “kill.” Alex was utterly surprised and totally flattered by all the attention, and completely oblivious to the ulterior motives. She didn't realize these wolves all seemed to think they were playing the starring role in a famous Vladimir Nabokov novel. She was searching for love and foolishly willing to trade sex to get it; while they were simply searching for sex and willing to trade a little attention to get it. To them, it was but a small price to pay; for Alex, a large price, indeed. Once again, she found herself used, abused and discarded. If her self-esteem could have sank any lower, Alex would have had to dig a hole to let it continue downward. That's when she met Doug.* Although she was still extremely apprehensive, there was something about him that put her at ease. He didn't seem like all the others; there seemed to be a sincerity that made him somehow different. Doug was sixteen years her senior, and he had a charming, intellectual, philosophical outlook on life that made Alex reflect on her own life and how she had, at times, contributed to playing the role of a victim. Doug was fond of saying “No one can make you 'feel' something. You 'allow' yourself to feel that way.” Their relationship grew out of their mutual needs for friendship, compassion, caring, understanding, someone to listen without judging, a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, and a desire to share not just their bodies, but their souls as well. Alex's love grew for Doug daily, but Doug was incapable of uttering those three simple words. He, too, had been hurt in the past in bitterly cruel ways – ways that can scar a heart so deeply that it can make it afraid to open up to the potential of ever truly loving again. What a pair they made – the walking-wounded – clinging to one another, for they knew, deep inside, whether they were willing to admit it or not, that they were soul-mates who were destined to be together, forever. How can two people, from such widely diverse backgrounds – age, situation, circumstance – ever overcome all of the challenges that face them so that they can be together? In this lifetime, they haven't, although they've tried and tried. But, soul-mates keep returning, lifetime after lifetime, searching for one another, until they finally are together as they should be. Alex and Doug may not have sustained a permanent connection in this lifetime, but there's always the next lifetime. The bond between them has sustained for almost a quarter of a century, and they still instantly reconnect, no matter how much time passes between the times they talk or see one another. And, a love this strong will continue to seek out the essence of Alex and Doug until they are together again for the lifetime of happiness that they deserve. Doug, Alex has always loved you, and she always will! * names have been changed to protect the 'innocent' Originally published Thursday May 29, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 8:44 AM | Sunday, September 05, 2004 Are You Casting Stones?
judg·men·tal adj. 1. Inclined to make judgments, especially moral or personal ones. Synonyms: condemnation, accusation, blame, censure, conviction, damnation, denouncement, denunciation, disapproval, reproach, reprobation, reproof, criticism, assumption, measurement, opinion, perception, discrimination, conclusion, conjecture, generalization. I've seen and experienced a lot in my life – many unspeakable horrors that I wish I could have been spared the experiences – but, overall, I've been a survivor! I've tried to develop some of the characteristics that, in my darkest times, were lacking in those around me . . . characteristics such as: compassion, unconditional acceptance, non-judgmental attitudes, and genuine caring and support. No one needs someone taking a “holier-than-thou” attitude simply because they've never found themselves in a similar situation. Sure, a society as a whole needs to have a fundamental core of morals, ethics and acceptable values that allow us to live in peace and harmony as a 'tribal-unit.' But, when we begin to over-impose our moralist belief systems onto other's situations without knowing all of the minutia, the baggage, and the history that brought them to that very place in time, we (whether intentionally or otherwise) are elevating ourselves to a superior role over the ones we are – dare I say it? – condemning, because their behavior doesn't fit nicely and neatly into our little “box-o-morals” that we have created for ourselves. I have tried to adopt a “live-and-let-live” attitude, as long as the other's behavior does not directly affect me in a seriously harmful, or otherwise damaging, way. Many of my readers know that my father is a Baptist minister – conservative to the nth degree. Perhaps my overly-accepting attitudes were first formed from mere rebellion but, over time, I learned to accept people simply for what they were – regardless of any label that society may have used to attempt to pigeon-hole them. My circle of friends and acquaintances are about as widely diverse as you could imagine. But, each one entered my life simply on their own merit and personality. I view relationships with blinders on – blinders to race, creed, color, religion, sexual preference, moral situation, economic status, or any other fact that might prevent someone else from ever taking the opportunity to know them simply for who they are – a human being, and a potential friend. Judgmental attitudes, over time, only serve to make you bitter and uncompassionate for the plights, foibles and hard times experienced by those around you. I'm not saying I'm perfect – FAR FROM IT – but I try to accept people simply for who they are, not for what they do. While everyone will eagerly (for example) take all of the latest quizzes that are posted as links to the [xxxxxxxx] site, thinking nothing of the results that these quizzes return, based upon the answers that each one provides, sometimes their views and comments on similar topics in other areas are in direct conflict to what they were *giggling* about when the quiz results called them "this" or "that." If it is "only-a-quiz," that's one thing; but, if it's someone's real life, that something else entirely??? So, does that make it okay to judge someone else's situation when you don't have all the facts? I'm just trying to understand the difference . . . Originally published Friday May 23, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 3:56 PM | Friday, September 03, 2004 Farm Livin' Is The Life For Me ...
Were the hassles of this move worth it? Amazingly enough, after all we have been through, I still have to say, “Yes!” And, “hassles” do NOT even begin to describe the weeks of pure, unadulterated hell we have been through simply trying to make this move – a move that should have occurred in February, but just finally occurred last week. The day before closing, the moving company arrived to begin loading us. We had obtained estimates from six (6) moving companies and all six, although not within a close dollar amount, were ALL within one hundred (100) pounds on the estimation of the weight of our entire household, including the entire basement, which held my s.o.'s complete woodworking shop (that translates to large, heavy tools -- think Norm Abram's New Yankee Workshop!). So, to lessen the costs of the move CONSIDERABLY, my husband rented a 24' U-Haul, hired one of his employees, and they packed up my husband's entire workshop, and most of the basement (which consisted of boxes we had already packed and stored there), plus a riding lawn mower and other assorted tools, lawn equipment, etc. The estimation of the U-Haul poundage was MUCHO-HEAVY, to say the least. The moving company only had to load the main level and upper level living areas, all of which were already packed in boxes, with the exception of furniture. I-N-C-O-M-P-E-T-E-N-T does not even begin to define this group of five IDIOTS who were supposed to be loading our belongings. The “job-boss” was inventorying the house, attaching inventory stickers to all boxes, furniture, etc., and listing each item, along with any defects, damages, etc., that he noticed prior to loading. At one point during the day, I went upstairs and found the upper portion of my grandmother's 100-year-old antique dresser lying in the floor in three pieces along side the curved arms and swivel mirror. Now, that morning when I woke up, the upper portion of my grandmother's 100-year-old antique dresser was a single decoratively carved curved back piece that connected the two arms and supported the mirror, and was attached to the base of the dresser! I walked outside to find my s.o., who was loading the U-Haul, to tell him about the dresser, and I saw my grandmother's 75-year-old antique chair in the front yard waiting to be loaded on the truck. Now, I had placed a sign on the inside back of this chair – in very large letters – which read, "VERY FRAGILE -- HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE." As I walked out of the front door, I saw one of the movers grab the chair by both arms and jerk it up roughly, at which time he literally snapped the left arm of the chair completely off. I walked over to the "job-boss" and said, "He just BROKE my grandmother's antique chair!" to which the guy replied, "Oh, well." I won't go on – but suffice it to say, the movers were totally incompetent, destructive, completely disrespectful and unprofessional (and, this was a franchise of a national moving company, not some local fly-by-night deal). After they had left, we found several boxes throughout the house that they had simply failed to even load onto the truck. We had to try to find some way to pack them into our vehicles, which was no small feat, as I had already packed my convertible with items I did not want the movers to touch, and it was at maximum capacity already. My s.o.'s pick-up truck was loaded as well, and the U-Haul was packed – floor to ceiling, front to back – with our entire basement. And, the next day, I would be driving our Jeep with a ½ filled aquarium full of fish, pet carriers with five cats, and two rambunctious dogs. On settlement day, the buyers were supposed to be at our house at 8:00 a.m. for a walk-through prior to us going to a 9:00 a.m. closing (we had back-to-back closings on the sale of our house and the purchase of the farm). The buyers “said” they could not be present at a 9:00 a.m. closing, but would go to the settlement office at noon to sign the papers. Since we were scheduled for 9:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m. closings, we were also scheduled to meet the moving company at the farm at noon for the unload. Do you think things went as scheduled? FAT CHANCE on that! The buyers and buyers' agent didn't arrive until 8:30 a.m., and we had to leave to make our 9:00 a.m. closing. At closing, the buyers' agent calls and starts complaining about the most STUPID stuff imaginable! We had a personal mirror (not affixed to the wall with mirror mastic or permanently attached in any way) in the downstairs powder room, which we removed because it was OURS, which we brought with us when we moved in. The agent said that we had to return it or they would not sign the closing papers. We attempted to explain that it was a personal item; not a permanent fixture of the house. The agent began screaming that we were trying to "rip-them-off," and he hung up on us. He called back moments later and said they would close, but only if we replaced the mirror with a "like" fixture, and to ensure that would happen, they were holding back $200.00 in escrow to assure that we replaced the mirror. There was much screaming, yelling, and cursing back and forth between their agent and ours, and the agent hung up, again. Then, he phones back once more – this time complaining about missing lights from the deck. The "lights" he was referring to were decorative solar lights, which were NOT permanent fixtures, not wired in any way to the deck, were used in conjunction with our deck furniture and furnishings, and were NOT part of the contract. Once again, he starts threatening not to close. Needless to say, our closing on the sale of the house was delayed more than an hour and a half. The clock is ticking, and the truck is already in route to the farm for delivery of our furniture and other household items. I called the moving company and am informed that if I am not there to meet the truck, I will be charged $80.00 per hour for every hour the truck has to wait. Then, more “good-news” (said with loads of sarcasm!); the closing paperwork for the purchase of the farm hasn't been received from the mortgage company. Our agent calls the agent for the seller and is able to work out a deal (amazing, in and of itself!) for us to move in and close the following day, if necessary. During this time, we're in the process of tracking down a mirror to replace our personal one that we removed from the powder room of the house we're selling (just to try to make things go smoothly) when the settlement package for the farm comes into the settlement office. Of course, the settlement office has to do some additional paperwork after the package is received so, … tick, tick, tick, tick … the truck is heading to the farm and the dollars are racking up on a "wait" charge . . . Finally, all the papers are signed, I pick up the cats, dogs, and fish and head southwest to the farm. At the same time, my s.o. is at the old house installing a mirror in the powder room. Now, GET THIS! The buyers return to the house, say the mirror is "fine," and tell my s.o., "it was nothing against us" -- they just "hated" our Realtor! My s.o. said, even so, all their complaining only made it bad for us, and had no effect whatsoever on our Realtor. Talk about unexplainable behaviour! When I arrive, the trucks are waiting and the “job-boss” informs me that they cannot begin to unload until I pay them. The woman I dealt with at their company throughout the entire process had told us from day one, up to that very morning when we called her about the delay, that they would take a personal check as long as it was drawn on a local bank. When I took out my checkbook, the "job-boss" tells me that he cannot take my check. I explained to him that "Kathy" had said I could write a personal check because it is drawn on a local bank, and he whips out his cell phone and calls his supervisor. His supervisor tells him that, under NO circumstances are they to take my personal check. The "job-boss" hands me the phone and the supervisor and I spend a few minutes of "quality-time" discussing exactly what I think of their company, the fact that their representative (Kathy) has told us (repeatedly) that we could write a personal check, that they were overcharging us by at least $1,000.00 over the original quoted price since my s.o. packed and moved the basement himself, that his employees broke several pieces of my antiques, and that by holding my belongings "hostage" on the truck, they were basically committing extortion, especially since -- amazingly-enough -- the weight they are "claiming" the trucks weighed in at is EXACTLY the weight quoted during the initial estimate (which included the basement)! At that time, my s.o. arrives and I hand him the phone. The supervisor, it turns out, is actually the owner of the company. He tells my s.o. that I am a "bitch" who will, more than likely, stop payment on the check, and he isn't about to take a personal check from us. The "reason" he has labeled me a "bitch" is because the day before -- after his employees broke two of my grandmother's cherished antiques, plus left their lunch messes all over my kitchen for ME to clean up, I called Kathy to complain. I guess complaining about employees who break items they are paid to be taken care to move and leave messes makes you a "bitch." WHO KNEW? My s.o. informed him that we wouldn't do something so devious as to stop payment on a check -- we would be up front and sue them in court! Anyway, finally, by "securing" our personal check with a credit card, they began unloading our stuff. Now, I took the time to write the name of the room that each box went into on the top and all four sides of EVERY box I packed. And, I don't write small (over-compensation for low self-esteem -- wouldn't Freud love me?!?!?). In addition, many of the items were to be temporarily stored in the studio building out back BUT, I spent the entire time these guys were unloading sitting on the front porch, checking off each item from a checklist that they gave me (FORCED ME) to complete, and on occasion instructed them on the items that were to be put into the studio as those items came off of the truck. Now, although the studio is to the left and behind the house, it isn't a long walk, so it wasn't like it was any big deal. About half way through the unload, they brought off our refrigerator -- a brand new fridge -- $1,400.00 -- which they refused to bring into the house and swap out with the one already in the house. So, I instructed them to just put it into the studio, along with the upright freezer they had just put in as well. About fifteen minutes prior to finishing the unload, it began to rain. They dashed in with the last of the boxes, handed me the final paperwork, and left. My s.o. had left earlier to return the U-Haul and take his employee, who was helping out, back home. When he arrived, he walked into the house … FURIOUS! The movers had left our refrigerator sitting in the middle of the yard, in the rain! They had not said a word to me about the fridge. Not only that, they had left several other items in the yard as well. They just didn't bother taking them all the way into the studio for storage. In addition, upon leaving, the truck took off two limbs of a large old tree. Yes!, that's called property damage! The following day, instead of unpacking, we had to spend it moving boxes into the rooms that they actually went into. I guess when a box is labeled "Kitchen Pantry Canned Goods," the best place to put it would be in the upstairs master bedroom. And, when a wardrobe box is labeled "Clothes Master Bedroom Closet," the best place for that is in the kitchen. Kitchen Dishes in the Living Room, Family Room Electronics in the Dining Room -- well, of course, you can see how the labeling can be SO misleading! In case you're wondering -- I've contacted the State Attorney General's Office and have been told that I have grounds to file a formal complaint for fraud and extortion. I've also contacted the Better Business Bureau. I'm also suing for property damage in small claims court. You don't mess with this fiery Irish lass without getting a fight on your hands! And, all of this was just the FIRST day we moved in. You wouldn't believe what else has happened in the week since we've been here. Horrendous hassles galore! But, as Scarlett says, "“I'm not going to worry about that today. Tomorrow is another day." With all of the hassles, headaches, ulcers, migraines, etc., the peace and tranquility of this 1898 Victorian farmhouse and acreage is AMAZING! I've met the cows next door (even petted a few). I have little baby flying squirrels nesting in my attic. There are assorted birds in abundance. The flowers are blooming everywhere. The whole side yard is filled with trailing ivy. The hundred-year-old maples in the front yard have canopied the entire yard. We've already had a rainstorm that was music on the tin roof. I may still be buried in boxes, but I'm in a place I can truly call "HOME!" * Thank God I'm A Country Boy, sung by John Denver, written by John Martin Summers Originally published Thursday May 15, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 3:40 PM | Wednesday, September 01, 2004 Tin Roof ... Rusted ...
Generally, you would expect to see sex, drugs, and rock & roll; or, at least, the hint of an elicit affair, a minor infraction that could be construed as illegal (or, at the very least, slightly immoral), or some such excitement emanating from my column, wouldn't you? -- AH-HA! -- I got your attention, didn't I??? Well, I hate to disappoint my fans, but it is simply a more mundane column this week. You see - I'm in the midst of packing. When I say, in the midst, I'm waist-high in boxes, that are filling every room of the house with only a rat's maze of a path to move from room to room. Granted, there are certain things I have refused to pack until the very last minute - my computer, my AV system, and my DVD player but, sadly, those are slated for dismantling on Monday as well, since the movers arrive -- bright and early -- on Tuesday morning to begin loading the trucks for the move. This move has been a hard lesson in dealing with S-T-R-E-S-S on both ends of the transaction. Perhaps you've read some of my rantings on the boards about a bit of the suffering I've had to endure. This is not even a 1/1,000th of the stressors that have faced us on the buying -- as well as the selling -- ends of these transactions (not to mention other stressors totally unrelated to the house transactions!)! As many times as we have bought and sold houses, I've NEVER encountered people such as this (and, there have been a few whackos in the past!)! Top that off with discovering just two weeks ago (after someone posted a link to the "National Registry of Sex Offenders" -- forgive me for not being able to give credit to the columnist who posted the link, I couldn't track down the link again while writing this column -- sorry!), that we are moving within three miles of a registered sex offender -- Oh, Joy! Yes, that was LOADED with sarcasm! We originally began our house-hunting in Pennsylvania (we're in the suburbs of D.C. but my s.o. has service centers located in three States and he travels extensively, so we can live practically anywhere in a reasonable circle of the Mid-Atlantic region), but after the turn-of-the-century homes with acreage we were looking at (that looked so good in the MLS listings) turned out to be such DUDS when we made the many treks to PA, we decided to look closer to where we live now. Our Virginia Realtor, based upon our criteria, brought over several listings for us to view prior to scheduling a day to visit all of the ones we were interested in. I made two stacks -- one was "possible options" and the other was "not interested." I took the "not interested" stack and tossed them into the trash, and the Realtor made a list of the MLS numbers on the "possible options," left the listings with us, pulled the listings again when he returned to the office, and called to make appointments for us to visit each of the houses we chose to see. On the day we were viewing houses, we had excluded several after viewing one because they were by the same builder and basically the same floor plan. (I didn't want to look at new construction anyway but, I had to humor everyone else to get to see what I wanted to see.) At that point, I said "We have only two more to see," (both of which were turn-of-the-century homes) and both my s.o. and the Realtor said, "No, we have three more to see." I had the stack of listings in my hand and there were only two left. I asked to see the listings that they had, and they had one of the listings that we had originally placed in the "not interested" stack and tossed in the trash the first night prior to the Realtor going back and re-pulling the MLS listings to make appointments. I believe in SIGNS and took this as a sign that we were supposed to see this house, even though it did not meet our criteria. As we pulled up in front of the house, I was mesmerized. The semi-circular drive in front of the white picket fence let you take in the full view of the house that sits at least 250' back from the drive. We walked up the sidewalk, and as we reached the front porch, the Realtor made a passing comment that he thought "This would be a great old house to scare children at Halloween!" We walked up onto the porch and as he opened the door, it creaked open, and as I stepped across the threshold, I knew I was home. The Victorian farmhouse was built in 1898. It has six fireplaces (none of which are presently in working order - that will be a LOT of money to have those restored!). The character and charm of the house, even though it hasn't been cared for in several years, still exists and will return with lots of TLC. There is a lot of work to be done but, it will all be worth it in the end. Behind the main house is a small guest house / studio, which I will eventually turn into my office / studio - but, it will take a lot of work and restoration to get it to a viable point as well. As for the acreage, in the adjoining pasture, there is a barn that my s.o. will use for his woodworking shop - a'la Norm Abrams. He makes great furniture, furnishings and accessories. He'll be making more things along the lines of restoration and repair items in the months ahead. The house, studio and barn all have tin roofs (ahhhhhhh!, I can't wait until it rains!!), and I keep hearing that Prince song in my head … Raspberry Beret:  I put her on the back of my bike And-a we went riding Down by old man Johnson's farm I said now, overcast days never turned me on But something about the clouds and her mixed [[snip]] The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof And the horses wonder who U are Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees The SIGNS kept coming from Day-One with this house. Even though we should have moved two months ago, I never gave up on this house because of the SIGNS. Remember that passing comment the Realtor made about Halloween? When we returned to the car that first day after looking at the house, I took the MLS listing and looked over it again to get a bit more information on the house. Imagine my surprise when I saw the date that it was listed for sale -- October 31st, 2002. As we drove away, we were chatting about the house and, about a mile down the road, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a black cat dashed out across the road, right in front of our car. When it passed to the other side of the road, it stopped and turned back to look at us. It just sat there, looking at us, watching us, until we were out of sight. Even though there have been MORE than a few roadblocks in our way during the last two months, it appears that, as of Wednesday, 05/07/03, everyone will be signing on the dotted lines, keys will be exchanging hands, and we will finally be able to move into our 1898 Victorian with the Spirits who have been waiting most patiently for our arrival . . . Originally published Sunday May 04, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 3:26 PM
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About Me
"a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma" --- Miss Kitty, an Irish lass, a true Southern Belle; writer, photographer, artist, interior designer, animal-lover, dreamer, stargazer, cop-groupie, 70's junkie, cbc, slightly obsessive iNFp with stories to tell! ... (fascinated by forensics, human behavior, pushing all the right buttons of men she finds interesting, and seeking utterly-sweet revenge without any repercussions. ) --- "Darlin', don't ever take a Southern woman for granted!" [tm] Feeling the uncontrollable urge to shower me with gifts?!? Check out my Amazon 
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