cutting the cord

If all goes well, we'll unload druid labs east on some unsuspecting buyers this coming Thursday. And that's a good thing. I'm not one for carrying much debt, and right now we're carrying a whole lot of debt. (Also even more assets, so in reality it's not a big horror. But I still get weird about it. I'm all about the cash flow, baby!)

I've probably already done this but I want to go on record as saying I am eternally grateful for having lived in that magnificent place. Both hobbitt and I come from, shall we say, less than affluent families, and to us, it was a freaking mansion. Not a day went by when I lived there that I didn't marvel at how amazing a home it was. It was big and yet we filled it up with friends and family and parties and merriment. Its amenities were well-used, particularly the water features. I spent a good deal of time the first two years out in the woods, exploring, watching, noting. We thrashed the living hell out of the kitchen, time and time again.

It wasn't a fancy place. It was homey and comfortable and funky. It had lots of spaces for relaxing, kicking back, watching the world go by, with an adult beverage or some equivalent.







And forgive me for repeating: I had taken this house off my list of potential properties, because of its price, in April 2002. But I forgot to bring the realtor my updated list, so we went here anyway. When she pulled into the driveway, my first thought was "This house is going to break my heart." I didn't know anything about the inside, or the back, or the pool, or the hot tub, or the decks, or the woods. All I knew is that the place felt like heaven. Heaven. I knew it was home like I know my own name. It had been on the market for six months. And the price had dropped twice from the price I had seen. The rest is history. hobbitt finally saw it the day before closing, and didn't wince too much.

It was sad inside - it had been neglected via divorce, hadn't been painted other than the crap that's slapped up after the taping and mudding was done. The kitchen floor was worn and discolored. The decks hadn't been stained since they were built at least 10 years earlier. The thermal window seals had broken and many of the windows were clouded up, and some were beginning to rot. Suffice it to say, we made that house happy and pretty again. We didn't have to do much, and it was utterly transformed.

It made Mom happy that I'd moved back to NJ, regardless of the reason, which was to take care of her. My sisters were happy about it, too, and not only because it took pressure off of them regarding Mom. Our home became the gathering place, the party house, for the last of the family parties. Nancy could come down from MA with her dog and have a relaxing stay, rather than trying to squeeze into Mom's guest room and deal with Mom's concern about Parker's fur. Terry could leave her youngest boys with me in case of a winter storm or vacation plans. And we partied. Our last years of family gatherings were happy occasions, with lots of laughter, teasing, love, and reminiscing.

To me, this home was a living spirit and not just a shell that we lived inside. I felt safe and complete there. I was nurtured by the beauty of the woods and star-filled skies. I was held by cool waters under the bright sun and warm waters on snowy evenings, and sometimes it seemed that mushrooms and Virginia creeper and trumpet vine and even cedar apple rust made themselves known just for my amusement. Even on the bluest of my blue days, deer and hawks and chipmunks came to visit, and all summer I could count on the hummingbird wars at the feeders. On foggy nights, the walk from the garage back to the house was a stroll through a mystery of sounds not normally heard.

It was hard to leave it, as you all know. I don't regret it - we're both so happy and relaxed here in Pete Townsend, and eventually we'll find room for all our stuff and get this place just the way it needs to be. But that house in Jackson was special. I don't want to hang on to it the way I clung to my home in Illinois, but then again, moving to NJ wasn't such a happy thing to be doing. I don't want to pine or yearn for what we had there. So I need to just be grateful and give big thanks in my thoughts and prayers these next few days. Whatever forces conspire in our lives, well, they were certainly kind to us, and apparently, still are. I don't know if it's good karma or simply giving up the worries and clenching, but whatever it is, it's smiling upon us, and has for some time.