Spring Break!

When I was in college, the big spring break destination was Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. I never went because I spent most of my spring breaks working extra hours at my job and being basically a no-life college student. To be fair though, I went to Oklahoma one year, but that was with my brother, so I’m not sure it counts.

When Corey announced that he was going to New Orleans for spring break, I had two thoughts: “Oh no!” and “How wonderful!” Typical mom worries influenced one thought and envy the other. Corey’s roommate Brian has a good friend who goes to school at Loyola and the boys wanted to go down for a little R&R. Brian doesn't drive and I wasn't so crazy about Corey taking his 94 Honda Accord for a 2,000 mile spin. Then he told me that his friend and classmate Michele, who lives in New Orleans and drives a newer model Subaru Outback, would be going home for spring break along with a friend and he and Brian were going to ride along and share gas and driving. Great plan!

New Orleans is 1,000 miles from Richmond, a trip that would take about 16-17 hours. They wanted to do it in one day and with three out of four driving it didn't seem like it would be too bad. Pretty much a straight shot down I-85. And since Michele lived in New Orleans and had made the trip back and forth a number of times, I felt comfortable knowing that she would be familiar with the route. But somehow, after Atlanta, this group ended up heading down I-75 to Florida.

The mishap was a combination of group dynamics (a polite way of saying that Michele’s friend turned out to be a controlling feminist Nazi type), which allowed irritation and frustration levels to max out, and not using the GPS, which was in the car the whole time. (Go figure.) I had to wonder though, how someone who lives in Louisiana doesn't realize for almost 300 miles that they weren't going to Louisiana. I guess Michele didn't know her way home as well as I thought she would. So when they didn't arrive in New Orleans at the expected time, I was a little concerned. Especially since Corey's cell phone was dead and I didn't have any one else's number. OK, I was a lot concerned.

I found Brian's mother's number, called her, and that's when I discovered they had taken their five hour detour. Eventually, they landed in New Orleans, very tired, but safe. A week filled with a crawfish boil, beer, the French Quarter, skateboarding, and just hanging out with friends turned out to be a pretty good time. The trip home was far less eventful; at least they didn't see any "Welcome to Florida" signs. Dumping Michele’s friend at the Greyhound bus depot in Atlanta also helped. Smile.

When my brother and I went to Oklahoma for spring break we visited family and saw bison, big horn sheep, prairie dogs, oil wells, tornado weather and even received a “police escort” to the local station in Anadarko for doing 30 in a 25mph zone. (Go figure.) We didn’t get to Oklahoma by way of Florida, but we still had fun. After all, spring break is spring break!

Things happen in threes, right?

When your house is nineteen years old, be prepared for anything to happen. First we noticed a water spot on the kitchen ceiling, right below the upstairs bathrooms. There was no evidence of a leak in either bathroom, such as water on the floor, so we figured something was going on inside a wall. Henry removed the toilet, cut out a large chunk of drywall, and sure enough—there was a leaking pipe. Then, while preparing dinner on a recent evening, I heard an odd sound that I first thought was the microwave—sort of a squeaky wheel sound. On closer inspection, I discovered the sound was actually coming from the basement, from the furnace fan motor to be exact. The same fan motor which decided to quit and leave us without heat that weekend. One plumber and one furnace repairman later, I walked into an upstairs bedroom, hit the light switch and nothing. Two rooms were without electricity. After replacing the circuit breaker and still no juice, it was time to call an electrician. So, we’ve had a lot of unexpected company recently. They were all very nice and they all left with their wallets a little fatter.

Random household repairs aren’t the only things you’re faced with when your house is nearly twenty. As a single mom, busy raising two boys with limited financial resources, there just wasn’t money, time or know-how to keep the house repaired and up-to-date. My house has a lot of character but it also has old appliances, worn carpeting, shabby flooring, outdated kitchen and bathrooms, a deck and porch that desperately need refurbishing, and walls that are begging for a fresh coat of paint. Where to begin?

Now that Corey and Kimberly are winding down their college careers, Henry and I are thinking about the next step—retirement from our current jobs, relocating and finding new endeavors to keep us engaged. So for the next two to three years before Henry can retire, our goal will be to update my house for our own use and enjoyment, but also to make it more marketable, all without investing a fortune. (Sounds like a topic for another blog.)

Step one: a new kitchen floor.