Role reversal, or learning to drive again

Me in my car in earlier days

Hooray! My much-loved 2004 VW Bug convertible is back in my driveway, sitting right outside my door. It was a real joy to pick it up this morning at the VW repair shop and drive it home, with Jordan riding shotgun.

That car is now almost a solid-gold car in terms of what it’s cost to restore it after it sat, undriven, for almost two years. When I was having so much difficulty with my hip, I despaired of ever driving again and entertained the notion of selling the car. One branch of my family said no, don’t sell it—give it to us. And so I did, figuring they would drive it. Didn’t happen.

So this spring my son had all the working parts repaired and took the car to an upholsterer who restored the side panels on the inside of both doors—they had come loose from their moorings and just hung in the air. Then he and his daughter drove it up here, top down. Only when they went to put the top up, it wouldn’t go. Took it to the VW dealership where the diagnosis was it needed a new motor. Nothing about repairing VWs is cheap, and this wasn’t, but I got it back today.

With one little problem. The back window has come loose from the convertible top. The dealership said they don’t repair that, but a glass company would fix it in my driveway. A little exploration today convinced me that was not so. When I finally located the company that does that, I was told it would need a whole new top. And believe me, that’s not cheap.

I have now invested enough money in the car that it would be foolish not to follow through and complete the job. Besides, I realize that I don’t have a lot of driving years left, so I might as well do it in a car I enjoy driving. And astronomical as the restoration costs have been, I could not have gotten another car for that sum. So bite my tongue and write the check.

But there’s another problem. Remember when you worried about your fifteen-year-olds learning to drive? We are now experiencing role reversal in my family. My children are worried about me driving, especially on a walker. Jordan did not let me drive home from the dealership alone today, and she critiqued my driving. What worries her most is my getting in and out of the cottage and the car alone, and I am practicing getting me and the walker down the steps, stashing the walker in the back of the car, and getting it out again.. I think as I master those skills, I will improve my balance, my strength, and my self-confidence. But she says she’s not ready to sign off on letting me go hither and yon by myself. I drive a bit above the speed limit, and she thought I drove too far on the right-hand side of the street.

Colin had similar small complaints but thought I did amazingly well for not having driven for two years. But now the deal is that I must drive with each of my children, and they all have to agree. Two down, two to go. Jamie says he’ll be here this week, and Megan is due to visit in three weeks or so. Until then, I must drive with a chaperone.

Tonight, since Jordan doesn’t want me driving, Mary Dulle drove me to dinner in my car, but I did all the getting in an out by myself. Mary’s vote was that I’m ready to drive.

I think this is called baby steps toward independence.

A staycation day

 In spite of my own protests, I turned into a recluse today and spent the day at home alone—well mostly. Confession: I had such a good time at my own dinner party last night that I overserved myself with white wine (who, me?) and wasn’t feeling particularly well this morning. I think it could be described as shaky with a headache. Finally had a banana and a cup of tea and began to feel better.

The restoration company returned my couch today—it’s a sectional with more pieces than you care to count. And it goes together in a weird way—when it first arrived, six months or so ago, it took us weeks to unbox, unwrap, and assemble. And we might never have gotten it done if Jamie hadn’t come over—he has a Lovesac and knows how they go together. Today, watching the three men try to puzzle it out provided an hour’s entertainment. I could offer an occasional hint, and after many tries—and taking it apart and starting over again, they got it done. I cheered for them, and they thanked me for my patience.

Jordan warned me to inspect every piece—I didn’t quite do that, but I did find two pieces with stains still on them. The company will send someone to spot-clean Monday. So just to be sure I suggested she come by and examine the couch—I didn’t want to be accused of missing something obvious. She didn’t find much more except for some light water stains. The room is beginning to return to normal—I now have a long (empty) bookcase, a table and chairs, and a couch, plus a working TV if we can find the remotes. And the new paint and floor look wonderful.

Jacob is here tonight—he played all afternoon with the sons of friends, and I didn’t realize he wanted to spend the night and was invited. So I suggested they have him here by eight, and he came in unhappy about not spending the night. A grandmother’s dilemma—I should have let him stay, though Jordan had not mentioned it, but I sure am glad to have his company. He soon brightened, talking about all the Rubic’s cubes he has and is going to get. I swear when he’s sixty, he may have a valuable collection—like some people who collected comic books way back when. Today those ubiquitous cubes come in all kinds of shapes and sizes—he’s ordering a pyramid and a multi-sided.

On my staycation day I wrote a guest blog, cleaned up some details, and spent much of the day reading a book. Somehow reading is such a luxury that I often put it off for work to be done. But, hey, I’m retired, and I’m my own boss. So I’m going to finish the night reading. Only problem is Jacob confiscated my iPad and I’m reduced to reading on my phone. It’s okay.

This, that and stuff

A friend from long ago sent this picture of me and another girl I grew up with. That’s Jeannie on the right and me, gangly and awkward in pre-teen and teen years, on the right. I would guess we were about twelve. Can’t remember a thing about the picture, where it was taken or why. I saw it some time ago when Jeannie posted it, but I thought it would be fun to post again. Don’t we look demure?

My neighborhood, hardest hit by the hail, is slowly recovering. I’ve fielded so many calls from roofers who “just happen to be in the neighborhood” that I’m tempted to answer the phone with “Thank you. I already have a roofer.” What worries me is that maybe half the calls come from scammers who don’t know as much about roofs as I do. And that’s not much.

The nice woman who writes a garden column for our neighborhood newsletter called—the owner of the yard she’d picked said absolutely not because the yard had been shredded by hail. I suggested she write her column about hail damage in the neighborhood. I know my redbud tree was stripped of all it blossoms that I look forward to seeing each year.

Books spread out on couch for sorting
where they were soaked

The restoration people finished taking up the floor today and decided that the ceiling was drying out and they didn’t need to take it out—grateful because it’s a board ceiling and I was afraid insurance would only pay for sheetrock. They’ve left their roaring drying equipment running for the weekend, but it sure is efficient. I could feel a definite difference this morning. They have also taken all the books for drying.

Meantime I’ve spent as much of the time as I could get back to the washer and dryer washing towels. Endless job after all that mopping up. A bit horrified that my “crew” used my new good towels to mop up.

I’ve decided the entire city of Fort Worth is exhausted. Saw several posts to that effect on Facebook, and Jordan and Christian decided to stay home tonight. Which means I don’t have Jacob—I miss his company but in some ways it’s a relief. Jordan has worked so hard the last few days on my house that I’m not surprised she’s exhausted. I slept/dozed almost three hours this afternoon and am ready to go back to bed at ten. Sophie napped with me and thoroughly enjoyed the comfort. I think it’s the mood of my city after the hailstorm.

Taking baby steps

Sunroom awash

Wet books

My neighbor mopping the sunroom

Pleased to report progress today. The restoration company has taken up the wood floor and half the tile floor underneath it. The tile floor is really difficult and stubborn. About three this afternoon I asked if they would like to quit at four and they said yes—result was I got a nice nap. Tomorrow they will take up the other half of the floor and take out the ceiling—they tell me the latter won’t take long. Meanwhile they have put up all their de-humidifying equipment, which makes an awful roar. It won’t bother me tonight because I can take my hearing aids out.

But I worry about my daughter-in-law who is sensitive to noise when she sleeps. Colin and his family and their friends-eight people total counting children—are due any minute (it’s ten o’clock) to spend the night on their way back from skiing in Colorado. There’s precious little room at the inn, but it will work out.

The restoration people have also taken away cartons and cartons of wet books and have more to come get tomorrow. They were sending a driver this afternoon—which would have cut right into the time I had carved out for a nap, so I asked them to wait until tomorrow. Also my Oriental rug guy picked up the wet rugs. Tomorrow I hope to put the house back in some semblance of order, including washing all the towels used in the cleanup.

Both last night and tonight we ended these dreary, frustrating days on a happy note. Last night we had brinner (breakfast for dinner) with our neighborhood group to celebrate Jordan’s birthday and that of Jay, later in the month—a warm, wonderful gathering. Tonight, Jordan and Christian hosted a happy hour at the Wine Haus down the street—lovely space, good wine, lots of hugs from Jordan’s friends. Afterward some of the same group from last night went next door to a Lebanese/Italian restaurant. I could hear much better and enjoyed the fellowship. Brought home enough spaghetti for at least two meals.

Mom was right—God works in mysterious ways. Since all that work has to be done back there anyway, Jordan is using the opportunity to paint the walls a warmer color than the stark white there now and to take out a couple of shelves so she can put stackable washer and dryer in.

Jacob and his parents went to the Apple store today, and he is busy sending his first emails. Such fun to watch his excitement. Yes, life goes on and we will get over this hail-induced hiccup.