Friday, March 8, 2019

celebrating my men

How to be inappropriate on International Women's Day - I'd like to talk about MEN. The men working here, my heroes - problem-solving heavy-lifters, dealing with my infuriatingly eccentric house where there isn't a straight line or square corner anywhere, and my eccentric taste and JM's details.

Yesterday afternoon at 3.30, my living room was a dump, with 8 and 10 foot-long pieces of leftover moulding and trim stacked along the middle tripping us, and 3 apartment-sized appliances, a washer, a dryer, and a fridge, taking up all one corner, plus various pieces of construction equipment and the hall crowded with seven old doors we were not using or had cannibalized for handles. John came to take the trim away, Bill came to help carry extremely heavy appliances upstairs, Kevin, Ed, and Evan heaved and strained, 8 huge plastic boxes overflowing with rubble plus the doors were carried out to go to the dump, and by 4.30, my living room was respectable again, ready for the vacuum cleaner and my home class at 6.30.

Today, Ed and Evan, plus Dan the painter who was painting my closet, heaved a giant heavy window box thingie into place on the third floor, all 3 hoisting, then Evan holding it up with his shoulders until Ed got it screwed into place.
Hooray for men! Thank you to my guys here for strength, expertise, sense of humour. Gettin' 'er done. However, in case you think I'm relaxing, we have a long way to go:
 My bathroom
My bedroom
The guest bedroom
The hall.


Of course I celebrate women too, every single day of my life, including in my classes, which are 85% female. Last night's class, as always, one beautiful story after another. Lucky moi. And speaking of writing and women and lucky, my daughter just sent me a tribute she wrote today about her grandmother, her dad's mother Connie who died last fall. It finishes, "I am fiercely proud to be her granddaughter, and I think I speak for all my cousins when I say that. To me, she proves, when a woman is allowed to reach her potential, she nourishes the world for generations to come. I love you grandma, and I will carry you in my heart forever."

Tears in the eyes - another writer in the family. Be still my beating heart.

It's still really cold and snowy - I don't remember a winter this tough, not for a long time. But there's blessed sun, and it's supposed to go up to 6 on Sunday. We'll take it.

So - the painters back next week, the electricians back the week after, Kevin and the boys finishing a ton of details - we're on a deadline here. It'll be close, but we're moving right along. Right now, there's a cardinal at my bird feeder, the sun is hot on my face, and the hyacinths Annie brought me last week are perfuming the air with springy scent. Two good men are pounding away upstairs. Life is good.

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