Saving both...

Finally, our beloved screened-in back porch and deck are complete, or complete enough. 

Our previous deck and porch were demolished in December 2024. Our house foundation needed repairs. Thus, the demolition. The deck needed replacing anyway. 

The first waterproof professional told us we could either save the house or the tree. According to him, the tree roots were the cause of the foundation issues. 

Do we sacrifice Hiram to save our manmade dwelling? Or do we let the house go, and allow it to take its natural course of aging and decay?

The tree isn't just any tree... 

He is a giant, beautiful scarlet oak whom I named Hiram. He provides homes to squirrels and birds and insects, shade over our house, and companionship to me since I've been disabled. Sunday night I sat on the now-furnished, completed porch as Hiram and I sang together--soft love songs to tunes and words that bubbled up while Hiram's leaves gently danced.

Obviously, Hubby and I didn't heed the advice of the first water proofer. Else, Hiram and I would not have communed. So, what happened? 

Back in 2024 we called our master arborist, Drew, to tell him the news--Hiram needed to be felled. Drew had already saved Hiram some 15 years prior when a tree cutter informed us Hiram was diseased and could fall at any moment.  That's when we found Drew, the master arborist. Hiram wasn't diseased after all. 

Drew answered, "I think we have a way to save both Hiram and the house. We do waterproofing and have had success with a certain technique." 

I could barely believe my ears, but my heart was thrilled. I had no idea Drew and crew waterproofed too! 

After Drew and Will's team demolished the deck and porch, they discovered our septic pipe was rusted and being held together by Hiram's roots and a bunch of hard dirt. (Thank you, Hiram.) Within 5 hours, a plumber replaced the old, rusted iron pipe with a PVC pipe. 

Once the team got to the foundation, they discovered that it was disintegrating from all the back yard water runoff. Plus, the cinder blocks were not waterproofed when the home was built in 1965. Will and crew fixed it, and we now have a bunker holding the foundation secure.

Around March 2025 we hired Juan to build the deck. By May he had finished, but there were problems. He'd used the wrong type gutters for the new porch and had damaged part of the gutters on the house; but he couldn't properly repair any of it. So, we hired Greg the gutterman to repair all that. Then there was the porch roof; it was holding moisture and black mold began growing on the ceiling. So, we hired Tom the roofer who had to replace the entire roof and install the proper rubber tile needed for flat roofs. 

We waited seven months to allow the wood to cure. Then it was time for staining. We hired Warren, and we got more problems. There were drips-runs, boot prints, sweep marks, and uneven coating. It stayed tacky for five months until Mark the painter could fix it. He corrected it beautifully. 

But before Mark could redo and correct Warren's stain job, we had to correct more of Juan's work. So, we hired Trey who fixed it all. Trey's attention to detail and craftsmanship are par excellence. 

Seventeen months from demolition, I have my outdoor therapy room back.

Hiram is now the host and greeter of the Olive Deck and Red Oak Bamboo Porch, named for their colors. Hiram quietly welcomes our guests--squirrels and chipmunks and songbirds and crows. And some nightly visits from feral cats. 

We love you, Hiram...

Sir Edward and Crew(s)...

Sir Edward the Explorer rolled over 321,000 miles last week. I thanked him, and he replied that he is going to make it to 400,000. *wink* 

I'll be surprised if he makes it that far, but maybe? 

Back in 2008 when the 1999 Explorer was gifted to us, my son suggested "Edward" as a name. So, Edward it was. When he turned 200,000, he became Sir Edward. When he turned 300,000, I asked if he would like to become King. He declined and said he preferred serving as a Knight. 

I think it's not unusual for vehicle owners to name their vehicles. But to have the vehicle communicate back? That might put me in the weird category. No surprise there...Haha.

Why have I not yet purchased a replacement vehicle? 

Because Sir Edward meets my specific disability needs, and he is very comfortable--the headrest, the seat, and the manner in which I am able to load and haul my bicycle. That said, little things are starting to wear out that aren't worth the investment to fix at his age. (I think of my own body, in that regard...)

In the movie Cast Away, Chuck Noland (played by Tom Hanks) finds himself on a deserted island after a plane crash. In the wreckage he finds a volleyball made by Wilson Sporting Goods. Using his blood from a cut on his hand, Noland paints a face on the ball and appropriately names it "Wilson." He is stranded for almost 4 years; Wilson is his companion during his long isolation. 

I can't recall exactly when, in my disabled life, that I began regularly naming and talking with inanimate objects.  But I do recall chuckling and saying to myself, "Well, this is understandable. It's like Tom Hanks and Wilson. I'm isolated and am finding ways to feel connection."

One example is stuffed animals.... 

One day as I was again grieving the loss of connection with pets and the fact that I am not able to care for a pet, I thought, "Stuffed animals! I have plenty from my preschool-teacher days." I later read online that I wasn't alone with this idea.

I think maybe when a person is faced with the reality of their limitations--for whatever reason--and has to adjust or completely release their life work or dreams, they begin to find meaning in seemingly insignificant things. They might notice more detail in things they didn't pay much attention to before.

Like when I make my bed and place the pillow just right so that the butterfly on the floral print pillowcase is facing the window so it can fly free.

In January this year, as I looked around my home, I realized that even the floors and walls pulse with life. I wrote a prose about that at this link: Pulsing with life....

A crew at sea saved Chuck Noland.

Sir Edward depends on A Crew Auto Repair for his maintenance.

I depend on Sir Edward to help keep me cruising.

Let me introduce you to some of my other inanimate crew mates,,,

All help me to keep on cruising...

My Trek bicycles: Olivia, who now stands on my indoor trainer for indoor pedaling; Black Beauty (Bleu for short); and Midnight Rider (Midnight for short). When I drop them at Ken's Bike Shop for servicing, the service crew gets a kick out of the names. 

Wally: My first walker, inherited from Mom. Wally is a simple, basic walker. 

The Phoenix: My deluxe rollator walker, named for her metallic burgundy color and the fact that she's helped me rise from the ashes. 

Dr. Echo McCoy: My low-level, red-light laser named for its brand, Erchonia,  and because it echoes light through my body; and for Dr. McCoy on the original Star Trek series. 

Sequoia: My inversion table, who I bought after I shrank 3 inches in a 2-year span causing kyphosis. Think Quasimodo, except my hunchback is in my lower thoracic area. I quit shrinking after I began inverting. Has Sequoia helped me? I'd like to think so but can't say for sure. 

Rocket: My furry, puppet raccoon--named after Rocket in the Guardians series--who now accompanies me on my bike rides. A stuffed Baby Groot used to accompany me. I also purchased extra Baby Groots, which I would haul in my bike trunk and give away along my rides. I hope to purchase more and again be a Groot ambassador. 

Uhuru: My little SE iPhone, named after the communications officer in the original Star Trek. 

Cane and Able: My two trekking poles that help enable me to get around.  

That's all I can think of now...
I may add more as they come to mind, or as my inanimate crew grows...

Happy Birthday Sir Edward!
May 22, 2026

Remembering the Answering Machine

After being away for over eight hours,

Hubby steers the car into our driveway. 

To our delight two bucks are grazing in the backyard.

They look up momentarily to check us out,

then return to their grazing. 

Some ten minutes later, Hubby and I enter our home.

As we ascend the short staircase I say,

"Remember when we used to come home 

and check the answering machine?"

We both chuckle.

But immediately, I feel a longing ...

For more simplicity

Less information overload

More spaciousness

Less constant-contact ability

I think we humans and other creatures

are not designed for these intrusions.

Oh Carol, you're just too negative

regarding progress.

I guess it depends on how one defines "progress." 

As I read from a book,

my smart phone sits nearby.

Sometimes I need to look up a definition.

So Carol, why not pull out a dictionary?

Dictionaries are quite heavy

for my weakened arms and hands.

So, I web search a word on my phone.

But five to ten minutes later I catch myself

down a digital rabbit hole.

At least I catch myself and am able to climb out

into the open, into spaciousness, into the senses.

My phone is not the problem.

In and of itself, it is innocent.

Its designers, however, design it to catch us.

I choose to open the gate. 

And then, I get caught in a thicket,

like Br'er Rabbit.

Eventually, I accepted the answering machine.

Eventually, I accepted email.

Eventually, I purchased a smart phone.

Eventually, I checked out the Pattern Engine, 

also known as Artificial Intelligence.

I named my smart phone Uhuru,

in honor of the communications officer in the original Star Trek.

Each night, I power her down with a thank you

and tuck her into a glove which I place in a drawer

down the hall from the bedroom.

She likes it there.

~*~

Here's a poem I wrote 27 years ago, in 1999...

Please note, that I now check my email most every day...

Ode to Email

Twas a middle-aged lady who lived in a house.
Her functions were many; she wasn't a souse.
She was secretary, cook, cab driver too,
activities planner, home maintenance guru.
Doctor, nurse, janitorial clerk,
counselor, teacher, overseer of work.
Just a few of the functions for which she stayed perked.

Then to add to her list? The computer pimple.
Pop ups and ads, wrinkles and dimples!
Upgrade! Upgrade! It makes your life simple!
But beware of viruses; you need that program too!
And identity theft; so your name is who?
Got too much spam? Pay more and it's through!

First there was junk mail to take up her time
and now more info to boggle the mind.
This middle-aged woman stepped back and breathed deep,
"It's time to make simple this communication heap."

She decided, yes, her email to keep
but now only checks it every two weeks.
So, if her attention you immediately need

please call her by phone to get sooner heed.