I Am My Mother!!

2010 has not been a good year for my family. That may be the understatement of the century. I have already mentioned that my Grandfather is fighting Pancreatic cancer. Peter can not seem to keep himself out of serious trouble (more about that another day when I am ready to share), the house sale is a roller coaster - it's on again, by the way, bringing with it big financial challenges since we are getting much less for it than we owe, Steven's "easy peasy" surgery is a weekly 3 hour trip to Ann Arbor until the doctor is satisfied, my sister has been fighting her own health challenges that have taken a serious turn. When I am stressed, I have nervous energy I must burn, and my house is looking much better for it.

When we were growing up, we had big, crank out windows facing the lake, and big double hung windows in the dining room. Now, we had a walk-out basement, dug into the hill, so the living and dining rooms were on the second story looking at it from the lake side. A couple times a year, my mom would decide to wash these windows. She is as afraid of heights as I am, so no ladders were used in this endeavor. She would take out the screens and sit on the window sill, hanging on for dear life while she washed them the best she could. For as far back as I can remember, this project always started with the reminder "If I fall out the window, call Grandma." She never fell, but we understood this was a dangerous task. After the windows were done, she would take the screens outside and line them up against the dog pen, scrub them down with a scrub brush and bucket of soapy water, spay them off and leave them to dry in the sun. In my new house, we have a walk-out basement dug into the hill. We have 8 foot high windows, the bottom half of them crank out. I had the ladder in here from hanging a kitchen curtain the other day in another 8 foot window, so I decided to wash the windows. The insides are done. The screens were lined up against the patio, my bucket and scrub brush ready to attack the dirt, and hose brought around the house. When Pete got home, he had to walk around the row of screens left outside to dry. All I have left are the outsides, but the windows are so tall, I could never reach them from inside. Maybe I should call Mom for a refresher on how to sit there and clean them - who knows, she may even be feeling nostalgic for the good old days at the lake.