I have been sick lately (so please excuse my long absence from posting) and haven't been able to accomplish those things around the house that need to be done. I can be a perfectionist at times, so still having so many boxes to unpack is driving me up a wall. Plus, I have a couple of rooms to paint and finish decorating. A part of me just wants to finally be settled. My internal laments have been working overtime since I can be sick for a couple of days at a time, putting me behind on all my regular chores not to mention the finishing projects of moving into a new house.
Two days ago, I sat down to watch a documentary with my son. He is studying Weather at the moment so he has been watching many tornado, hurricane, and flood videos. On that particular day, we were watching Frontline, an episode that followed an old man who was returning home after Hurricane Katrina. Here is the link, in case you would like to watch: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/katrina/ The story was a sad one of course, because though I have seen some inspiring stories, I haven't seen any from Katrina that aren't sad. This one focused on 82 year old Herbert Gettridge, who had lived in New Orleans his entire life and had returned home after Hurricane Katrina to rebuild his home for his wife's return. I was simply amazed by the strength of this 82 year old man. He was rebuilding his home by himself! Without water. Without electricity. Without neighbors. Without government assistance. There were a few non-profit organizations and churches that came to help him from time to time, but for the most part, he was on his own. His determination was admirable. His persistence, doubly so.
His story touched my heart. His story was one that reverberated with me because it was one I had heard before...one from generations past. Grandparents who had built a house with their own two hands and would do anything to keep it. It wasn't just wood boards and bricks. It wasn't just a place to store their belongings. It was a home. A place full of family and memories and as much a part of them as their name and face. A story that I would love to be my own. A place that my heart secretly longs for and that I struggle to create for my own children. I could see myself in Herbert Gettridge and his struggles, and I could see those of my ancestors. My heart ached for his devastation, triumphed for over his achievements, and grieved for his loss when he brought his wife home to a place she could not recognize.
Afterwards, all I could think of was: "Shame on me!" Here I am in my house with walls, a roof, floors, running water, and electricity....and I am complaining over not getting a room painted. Or because I haven't enough bookcases for all of my books! I have too much stuff and not enough storage. Or I have storage but nothing stored in it! My worries seem very small in comparison to those who have lost their entire homes, their belongings, their families, and....their memories. In the last few months, a wave of natural disasters have occurred across this country in the form of tornadoes and floods. And across the world, with earthquakes and tsunamis. In my comfort, I cannot see their loss as I should. Shame on me!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
First Shift
Last Thursday, I had some unexpected but very, very, welcome news. Brian sent me a text message saying that he was starting first shift on Monday. I was thrilled! It is exactly what I had been praying for (and the Girl Scout leaders, see previous post). He was moving from second shift to first shift and we would be able to spend our evenings together.
This news is pretty big to our household. At Brian's previous job (in KY), Brian had to work 7 years to make it to first shift. It only took 4 months here. It is something I have been praying over since he took the job. I hate second shift. It is the time of day when everything exciting happens. All of the kids extracurricular activities are during the second shift hours. The whole day is just thrown off, really. Before, it seemed like we had less time to spend together as a family since everything had to be rushed into the morning hours. Homeschooling was dragging a bit too since we didn't start our schoolwork until after Brian left for work. Kids are much better at concentrating when they work in the morning hours rather than the afternoon when the neighborhood kids are outside playing and wanting them to join in.
Another answered prayer, of course! First shift was pretty vital to our family's harmony. Several years ago, I worked second shift and Brian worked third shift. The result was a near divorce and tearing apart of the family! Many people survive on odd shifts, but I knew the only way we would was to lean on God. He carried us through this time.
Our schedule is returning to normal. And even though Brian had to drop his classes at college because the news of first shift came too late to add new ones, he will be able to coach football in the fall if a position should become available. I am sure it will. Football and Brian are like attracting magnets. Come fall, I fully plan on being in the stands of some high school football game, cheering on a new team!
This news is pretty big to our household. At Brian's previous job (in KY), Brian had to work 7 years to make it to first shift. It only took 4 months here. It is something I have been praying over since he took the job. I hate second shift. It is the time of day when everything exciting happens. All of the kids extracurricular activities are during the second shift hours. The whole day is just thrown off, really. Before, it seemed like we had less time to spend together as a family since everything had to be rushed into the morning hours. Homeschooling was dragging a bit too since we didn't start our schoolwork until after Brian left for work. Kids are much better at concentrating when they work in the morning hours rather than the afternoon when the neighborhood kids are outside playing and wanting them to join in.
Another answered prayer, of course! First shift was pretty vital to our family's harmony. Several years ago, I worked second shift and Brian worked third shift. The result was a near divorce and tearing apart of the family! Many people survive on odd shifts, but I knew the only way we would was to lean on God. He carried us through this time.
Our schedule is returning to normal. And even though Brian had to drop his classes at college because the news of first shift came too late to add new ones, he will be able to coach football in the fall if a position should become available. I am sure it will. Football and Brian are like attracting magnets. Come fall, I fully plan on being in the stands of some high school football game, cheering on a new team!
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Rug
I love a bargain. And I can usually find them in some unusual places. Since moving to Oakwood, the hip way to acquire a deal is to go estate shopping. I have been going to them for the past month or so. Not all of them are created equal, however, and most of them are full of old lady clothing (we're talking polyester, not vintage) and overpriced antiques. But, if you know what you are looking for, you can find a diamond in the rough.
A local antique dealer, who is rumored to be overpriced, was conducting an estate sale two streets away. I was hesitant to go, thinking to myself that I won't be able to find anything that I would actually want to put my money on. When I entered the house, there were several beautiful lamps, vases, and dishware that I eagerly examined. The prices weren't horrible, but they were still more than I wanted to pay. Part of the love affair I have with my purchases is the price. The better the deal, the more I love them. Sad but true. So, I continued looking around, and overheard a conversation that two antique brokers were having. One man was displeased because he had not been called for the "wholesale" day at that particular sale. The other man sympathized and went on to talk about the same thing happening to him at a different place. Hmm, so all of this stuff, stuff that the bright & cheerful appraiser was promoting, had already been picked over by antique store dealers and interior decorators? Not an encouraging thought. Considering that, I frowned on the prices even more.
Upstairs, a lady negotiated over several mediocre paintings. Another woman was in awe of matching duvet covers. I, however, was giving up on the sale. Or so I thought. I tripped over a very long package wrapped in plastic. I glanced down- a rug. A very inconvenient place to put one, I thought to myself and turned to leave. Back downstairs I glanced about the place one more time. No, nothing was calling my name. I stepped outside. It was snowing again. As I stood there putting on my gloves, something made me step back inside. I can't say that it was a voice whispering to me or that it was even a feeling. It was just...odd. I went back inside, not sure what I was looking for or why I had returned.
It felt good to be back inside where it was warm. The appraiser didn't even bat an eye at my sudden reappearance. Not sure of what I was doing, I once more surveyed the items for sale. Nothing. Why was I still here? I went upstairs for a last glance, though the items upstairs were more dismal than the ones downstairs. My eyes fell on that long roll of plastic. The rug. I leaned closer, peering through the plastic. No way! I thought. This rug matched the one I had in my family room. It was much bigger too. The largest size you can buy in that particular design, in fact. I glanced at the price tag: $65. We paid twice that for the rug we currently had! This rug was new, had never been opened and was a room sized area rug for $65...and it matched what we already had! Wow! This was definitely a bargain! I tried to hide my excitement since an older lady could see that I was very interested in the rug and had come over to investigate the piece herself. I immediately called my husband and asked him if the rug would fit in our living room. He said it would, so I flagged down the nearby sales attendant and told her that I wanted it!
As I was checking out, the sales lady informed me that the rug wasn't original to the current estate sale and that it had been brought just that morning over from a sale that they had the previous week. She helped me to carry it out to the truck and I told her that it matched a rug that we already owned. She seemed surprised. Then she smiled, "Looks like this rug was meant just for you!" I couldn't have agreed more.
I know some would dismiss this as a lucky coincidence or even scoff over the idea that God would provide me with this rug when I went searching for a bargain. But what they fail to realize, is that I had been praying for a way to make my house a home with what little resources we had. Because of the expenses of our move, I did not have much extra money to use in furnishing our new place. Many of our old pieces didn't fit, were broken in the move, or we just didn't have what we needed to furnish all of our rooms. To many, it would seem trivial to pray for those things. I did not ask God to give me a good deal on a rug. I did not ask God for more money to buy home decorations. I simply said a prayer for Him to help me make my house a home...some way. A rug does not make a home, that is for sure, but it was a start. I do not hesitate to give Him the glory for my finding that rug. Or rather, that rug finding me. Even though it may be a little one, it was another answered prayer.
P.S. I looked up how much it would cost to purchase the same rug at retail: $325.
A local antique dealer, who is rumored to be overpriced, was conducting an estate sale two streets away. I was hesitant to go, thinking to myself that I won't be able to find anything that I would actually want to put my money on. When I entered the house, there were several beautiful lamps, vases, and dishware that I eagerly examined. The prices weren't horrible, but they were still more than I wanted to pay. Part of the love affair I have with my purchases is the price. The better the deal, the more I love them. Sad but true. So, I continued looking around, and overheard a conversation that two antique brokers were having. One man was displeased because he had not been called for the "wholesale" day at that particular sale. The other man sympathized and went on to talk about the same thing happening to him at a different place. Hmm, so all of this stuff, stuff that the bright & cheerful appraiser was promoting, had already been picked over by antique store dealers and interior decorators? Not an encouraging thought. Considering that, I frowned on the prices even more.
Upstairs, a lady negotiated over several mediocre paintings. Another woman was in awe of matching duvet covers. I, however, was giving up on the sale. Or so I thought. I tripped over a very long package wrapped in plastic. I glanced down- a rug. A very inconvenient place to put one, I thought to myself and turned to leave. Back downstairs I glanced about the place one more time. No, nothing was calling my name. I stepped outside. It was snowing again. As I stood there putting on my gloves, something made me step back inside. I can't say that it was a voice whispering to me or that it was even a feeling. It was just...odd. I went back inside, not sure what I was looking for or why I had returned.
It felt good to be back inside where it was warm. The appraiser didn't even bat an eye at my sudden reappearance. Not sure of what I was doing, I once more surveyed the items for sale. Nothing. Why was I still here? I went upstairs for a last glance, though the items upstairs were more dismal than the ones downstairs. My eyes fell on that long roll of plastic. The rug. I leaned closer, peering through the plastic. No way! I thought. This rug matched the one I had in my family room. It was much bigger too. The largest size you can buy in that particular design, in fact. I glanced at the price tag: $65. We paid twice that for the rug we currently had! This rug was new, had never been opened and was a room sized area rug for $65...and it matched what we already had! Wow! This was definitely a bargain! I tried to hide my excitement since an older lady could see that I was very interested in the rug and had come over to investigate the piece herself. I immediately called my husband and asked him if the rug would fit in our living room. He said it would, so I flagged down the nearby sales attendant and told her that I wanted it!
As I was checking out, the sales lady informed me that the rug wasn't original to the current estate sale and that it had been brought just that morning over from a sale that they had the previous week. She helped me to carry it out to the truck and I told her that it matched a rug that we already owned. She seemed surprised. Then she smiled, "Looks like this rug was meant just for you!" I couldn't have agreed more.
I know some would dismiss this as a lucky coincidence or even scoff over the idea that God would provide me with this rug when I went searching for a bargain. But what they fail to realize, is that I had been praying for a way to make my house a home with what little resources we had. Because of the expenses of our move, I did not have much extra money to use in furnishing our new place. Many of our old pieces didn't fit, were broken in the move, or we just didn't have what we needed to furnish all of our rooms. To many, it would seem trivial to pray for those things. I did not ask God to give me a good deal on a rug. I did not ask God for more money to buy home decorations. I simply said a prayer for Him to help me make my house a home...some way. A rug does not make a home, that is for sure, but it was a start. I do not hesitate to give Him the glory for my finding that rug. Or rather, that rug finding me. Even though it may be a little one, it was another answered prayer.
P.S. I looked up how much it would cost to purchase the same rug at retail: $325.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Girl Scouts (in Ohio)
One of the first things I did when moving to Ohio was to find a new Girl Scout troop for my oldest daughter. Our troop in Kentucky was very active and since I was the leader, I think that it was well-organized....not perfect, but pretty good. I started the troop when my daughter was a Daisy and kept it going into Brownies up until this past month when we had our last "she-bang." During that time period, our troop worked on over 30 Try-Its and attended twice as many events. My daughter's sash has overlapping badges and patches (much like mine when I was a Brownie.) Girl Scouts has been a big part of our lives in this family and something that we enjoy.
So, the troop here in Ohio, come to find out, is a new troop. They just started up this year, and only one other girl in the troop had any previous Girl Scout experience (and that was only 1 year.) The leaders do not pre-plan meetings. In fact, if they do not have anything planned they just talk to the girls or let them run around and play. The leader, who is very nice, could not answer any of the questions I had about the future bridging up to Juniors. In fact, she had never heard of "bridging." This scared me.
The disorganization and lack of communication of this troop totally baffles me. I understand that the parents who are the leader and co-leader had not planned on being in those positions and rather found themselves thrust into. But where is the training for them? I find it hard to believe that they are not better prepared! I rounded up some of the left-over supplies I had and offered them to the group. I offered to make them a troop songbook (still haven't heard back on that one) but the leader did applaud my idea of actually singing songs! Really! They had not sang any songs- not even the Brownie Smile song! Gasp!
After one meeting, my daughter told me that they did the Girl Scout sign like the Boy Scouts, using only two fingers. ??????Huh????? Everything in me is freaking out. I am sad to say that because my husband works 2nd shift, there is little I can do to help. Though, let me assure you, that I have tried to offer what assistance I can and most of it has gone unused. I did send a craft to do this past week for the troop meeting (they only meet every 2 weeks) and my daughter said that the girls loved it! They had never done a craft!!!
Needless to say, the current leader and co-leader have already asked me (begged me, really) to be the leader next year. I told them that depends on my husband getting on a different shift. They said that they would be praying for it.
So, the troop here in Ohio, come to find out, is a new troop. They just started up this year, and only one other girl in the troop had any previous Girl Scout experience (and that was only 1 year.) The leaders do not pre-plan meetings. In fact, if they do not have anything planned they just talk to the girls or let them run around and play. The leader, who is very nice, could not answer any of the questions I had about the future bridging up to Juniors. In fact, she had never heard of "bridging." This scared me.
The disorganization and lack of communication of this troop totally baffles me. I understand that the parents who are the leader and co-leader had not planned on being in those positions and rather found themselves thrust into. But where is the training for them? I find it hard to believe that they are not better prepared! I rounded up some of the left-over supplies I had and offered them to the group. I offered to make them a troop songbook (still haven't heard back on that one) but the leader did applaud my idea of actually singing songs! Really! They had not sang any songs- not even the Brownie Smile song! Gasp!
After one meeting, my daughter told me that they did the Girl Scout sign like the Boy Scouts, using only two fingers. ??????Huh????? Everything in me is freaking out. I am sad to say that because my husband works 2nd shift, there is little I can do to help. Though, let me assure you, that I have tried to offer what assistance I can and most of it has gone unused. I did send a craft to do this past week for the troop meeting (they only meet every 2 weeks) and my daughter said that the girls loved it! They had never done a craft!!!
Needless to say, the current leader and co-leader have already asked me (begged me, really) to be the leader next year. I told them that depends on my husband getting on a different shift. They said that they would be praying for it.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Old vs. New
A comparison of what we had at our old life in Kentucky and what we have now:
Kentucky Oakwood
* 5 acres * enough space for a swing set
*dial-up internet * high-speed internet with WiFi
*satellite T.V. * Instant Netflix
*2100 sq. ft house *1900 sq ft.
* 25 foot rock fireplace in vaulted ceiling * 9 ft ceilings, gas fireplace
*surrounded by woods * surrounded by houses
*20 minute drive to EVERYTHING! *walk just about everywhere
* couldn't see our neighbors house * all we can see is our neighbor
*shed/barn * garage
* school buses * everyone walks/ ride school SUV
*taxes $1250/year *taxes $3500/year
*3 story playset * mega playground: block away
*gravel/dirt drive *paved driveway
*creek *Community pool
*septic *public sewer
*metal roof *shingle roof
*very quiet *cars, sirens, and kids
*no sidewalks (rural route) *sidewalks and lots of walking
* okay school system *school ranked 577th in nation
*hunting *mega squirrels that taunt you
*Great radio stations * Ipod use suggested!
*Wal-Mart or Kroger *Kroger, Trader Joe's, Meijer
*great temperatures/seasons *winter or construction
*room to store recreational vehicles *boat & trailer still in KY
*close to family *has adopted a second family
*McDonalds *decisions, decisions!
*clean air *smokers galore (odd, huh?)
*wrap around deck *full front porch
*everyone knows everyone * all outsiders
* gun range in backyard * "Run! They have a gun!"
*University of Kentucky (Go Cats!) *Ohio State
(yes, I left off "THE"...deal with it!)
Kentucky Oakwood
* 5 acres * enough space for a swing set
*dial-up internet * high-speed internet with WiFi
*satellite T.V. * Instant Netflix
*2100 sq. ft house *1900 sq ft.
* 25 foot rock fireplace in vaulted ceiling * 9 ft ceilings, gas fireplace
*surrounded by woods * surrounded by houses
*20 minute drive to EVERYTHING! *walk just about everywhere
* couldn't see our neighbors house * all we can see is our neighbor
*shed/barn * garage
* school buses * everyone walks/ ride school SUV
*taxes $1250/year *taxes $3500/year
*3 story playset * mega playground: block away
*gravel/dirt drive *paved driveway
*creek *Community pool
*septic *public sewer
*metal roof *shingle roof
*very quiet *cars, sirens, and kids
*no sidewalks (rural route) *sidewalks and lots of walking
* okay school system *school ranked 577th in nation
*hunting *mega squirrels that taunt you
*Great radio stations * Ipod use suggested!
*Wal-Mart or Kroger *Kroger, Trader Joe's, Meijer
*great temperatures/seasons *winter or construction
*room to store recreational vehicles *boat & trailer still in KY
*close to family *has adopted a second family
*McDonalds *decisions, decisions!
*clean air *smokers galore (odd, huh?)
*wrap around deck *full front porch
*everyone knows everyone * all outsiders
* gun range in backyard * "Run! They have a gun!"
*University of Kentucky (Go Cats!) *Ohio State
(yes, I left off "THE"...deal with it!)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Accomplishment
I used to think that packing everything up to move was the biggest pain about relocating. I have since changed my mind. Unpacking is the biggest pain! We have lived in our new house for over 2 months now. We are still living out of boxes. My frustration levels are reaching an all time high. I do not like chaos. I do not like having things out of place or no place at all! And that, my dear friends, is the crux of the problem!
Moving into a new home requires taking all your old stuff that fit perfectly in your old house and finding a location for it in your new house. Sounds easy enough, but unless you just walk into your house and plop it down, claiming: "Here is your new abode, dear lamp!" it doesn't really work. Especially when the lamp is sitting on the dining room floor beneath a chalkboard easel, like mine. (Though I think this technique would work for my husband.) No, you have to check your surroundings. What area of the room really needs a lamp? What part needs more lighting? Is there a plug available in that corner for the lamp? Is there something to sit it on? Oh, the questions are endless.
Okay, yes, I am being overly dramatic, but I am having some "vicious cycle" moments here. I painted my son's bedroom without any furniture in it. It was fast and easy. I puffed my chest with accomplishment when gazing upon the white and University of Kentucky blue that donned the walls. I put up the peel-n-stick Wildcat decals and rejoiced to see progress in our journey of settling in. But that was pretty much where our progress stopped. A few weeks passed before I could no longer take stepping around the sea of boxes. In a feverish rush, I broke out the paint that I was contemplating using in the kitchen. It was a full gallon of blue left over from our kitchen at the old house. I put it on one wall....and fell in love all over again. I was pumped! I finished the kitchen in another day or so. Then, I unpacked my blue and white kitchen decorations. My heart sighed in contentment at seeing the place settled. The only thing left for the kitchen is the curtains I am sewing.
But the rest of the house is a mess. I finally moved the boxes out of the living room and stacked them up along a dining room wall. I rolled out the area rug in the living room (an area rug that I bought new for $65 though it was regular priced $325) and smiled with accomplishment. Really? Accomplishment from rolling out a rug? Yes, that is what my wonderful, anal sense of structure and organization has been reduced to. I also put together the two new end tables I bought. Those and a few chairs is all that sits in my living room since I am waiting to make a trip to IKEA to buy a couch. I also need a piece of artwork for over the fireplace. And I cannot decide where to hang the stuff I currently have.
I am mid-process of painting my oldest daughter's bedroom. And my youngest two daughters are still living among cardboard boxes like homeless children. Our bedroom is not much better since all the questionable items (where should we put this?) have been quarantined in one corner there. Just like the dining room. And the garage. And a room in the basement. In fact, most of the stuff we had at the old house doesn't really fit in well here. I guess I will sell most of it at a yard sale this spring and take the money earned to buy new stuff.
But then I have to wait for better weather....see? Vicious cycle. I have to wait to unpack until I paint. I have to wait to hang this until I paint or figure out where it goes. For those of you who know me well, you know that I can create some beautiful rooms. This house, though, has been seriously trying my decorators spirit. I will prevail, though. I just need to shut up all the chaos of clutter and get busy! Today, I opened my new bedding set and put it on my bed. Yep, another accomplishment!
Moving into a new home requires taking all your old stuff that fit perfectly in your old house and finding a location for it in your new house. Sounds easy enough, but unless you just walk into your house and plop it down, claiming: "Here is your new abode, dear lamp!" it doesn't really work. Especially when the lamp is sitting on the dining room floor beneath a chalkboard easel, like mine. (Though I think this technique would work for my husband.) No, you have to check your surroundings. What area of the room really needs a lamp? What part needs more lighting? Is there a plug available in that corner for the lamp? Is there something to sit it on? Oh, the questions are endless.
Okay, yes, I am being overly dramatic, but I am having some "vicious cycle" moments here. I painted my son's bedroom without any furniture in it. It was fast and easy. I puffed my chest with accomplishment when gazing upon the white and University of Kentucky blue that donned the walls. I put up the peel-n-stick Wildcat decals and rejoiced to see progress in our journey of settling in. But that was pretty much where our progress stopped. A few weeks passed before I could no longer take stepping around the sea of boxes. In a feverish rush, I broke out the paint that I was contemplating using in the kitchen. It was a full gallon of blue left over from our kitchen at the old house. I put it on one wall....and fell in love all over again. I was pumped! I finished the kitchen in another day or so. Then, I unpacked my blue and white kitchen decorations. My heart sighed in contentment at seeing the place settled. The only thing left for the kitchen is the curtains I am sewing.
But the rest of the house is a mess. I finally moved the boxes out of the living room and stacked them up along a dining room wall. I rolled out the area rug in the living room (an area rug that I bought new for $65 though it was regular priced $325) and smiled with accomplishment. Really? Accomplishment from rolling out a rug? Yes, that is what my wonderful, anal sense of structure and organization has been reduced to. I also put together the two new end tables I bought. Those and a few chairs is all that sits in my living room since I am waiting to make a trip to IKEA to buy a couch. I also need a piece of artwork for over the fireplace. And I cannot decide where to hang the stuff I currently have.
I am mid-process of painting my oldest daughter's bedroom. And my youngest two daughters are still living among cardboard boxes like homeless children. Our bedroom is not much better since all the questionable items (where should we put this?) have been quarantined in one corner there. Just like the dining room. And the garage. And a room in the basement. In fact, most of the stuff we had at the old house doesn't really fit in well here. I guess I will sell most of it at a yard sale this spring and take the money earned to buy new stuff.
But then I have to wait for better weather....see? Vicious cycle. I have to wait to unpack until I paint. I have to wait to hang this until I paint or figure out where it goes. For those of you who know me well, you know that I can create some beautiful rooms. This house, though, has been seriously trying my decorators spirit. I will prevail, though. I just need to shut up all the chaos of clutter and get busy! Today, I opened my new bedding set and put it on my bed. Yep, another accomplishment!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Police (and I'm not talking about the band)
The entire 5 years I lived in our house in the boonies, I never once had the police come to my house. A few helicopter fly-overs checking acreage for illegal substances, yes, but no actual physical contact on my property. I liked it that way. I savor my privacy. I also like to know they are there if I need them, but I do not need them in my face as a reminder.
Having said that, I would like to note that tomorrow will be exactly 2 months to the day that we moved into our house in Oakwood. And we have had contact with the police 4 times already. I seriously hope that this is not a pattern that will continue throughout the year. I think there are more cops in Oakwood than all of Nelson County back in KY. Every time I go out, whether driving or walking, I see a patrol car. Many times, there is one parked down the street near the park. A part of me likes the fact that the neighborhood is well patrolled. Oakwood is supposed to be the safest area to live in Dayton. In fact, most of the transgressions posted in The Oakwood Register deal with driving incidents. There is an occasional burglary report or a stolen bicycle reported, but mainly they are all speeding tickets or the like. (If you come to visit us, please observe the posted speed limits.)
Rabbit Trail: One of the burglary reports was of $200, a laptop, and an iphone taken from an UNLOCKED Expedition. All the items were laying on the seat in plain view. C'mon, people! Use some common sense!
Another part of me, however, dislikes the fact that the police traffic the area like the Gestapo. The first day we moved in a police officer stopped and was checking out our truck which was parked on the street in front of our house. I say the officer and immediately thought, "What's wrong?" There were other cars parked on the street, so I knew that was legal. But our truck was parked in front of our house against the flow of traffic. I told Brian to run out and talk the officer so we wouldn't get a ticket. He ran outside and moved the truck. The officer was not very welcoming. He told Brian, "That isn't allowed around here." Okay, fine. Lesson learned. (But what was the big deal anyway? Were they afraid someone driving down the street would suddenly forget which way the traffic flowed and follow the parked cars? If so, they shouldn't be driving anyway. Simple driver's ed...drive on the right side of the road.)
The three other incidents with the police all involved the situation with the little girl (previous post). I am so hoping that is an isolated occurrence and not a trend in my life as an Oakwood resident. So, while I am glad to have the protection, I am also a little ruffled by the lack of privacy too. I suppose that is just what goes with the territory. I moved from the boonies to an urban neighborhood. Just another little adjustment to be made.
Having said that, I would like to note that tomorrow will be exactly 2 months to the day that we moved into our house in Oakwood. And we have had contact with the police 4 times already. I seriously hope that this is not a pattern that will continue throughout the year. I think there are more cops in Oakwood than all of Nelson County back in KY. Every time I go out, whether driving or walking, I see a patrol car. Many times, there is one parked down the street near the park. A part of me likes the fact that the neighborhood is well patrolled. Oakwood is supposed to be the safest area to live in Dayton. In fact, most of the transgressions posted in The Oakwood Register deal with driving incidents. There is an occasional burglary report or a stolen bicycle reported, but mainly they are all speeding tickets or the like. (If you come to visit us, please observe the posted speed limits.)
Rabbit Trail: One of the burglary reports was of $200, a laptop, and an iphone taken from an UNLOCKED Expedition. All the items were laying on the seat in plain view. C'mon, people! Use some common sense!
Another part of me, however, dislikes the fact that the police traffic the area like the Gestapo. The first day we moved in a police officer stopped and was checking out our truck which was parked on the street in front of our house. I say the officer and immediately thought, "What's wrong?" There were other cars parked on the street, so I knew that was legal. But our truck was parked in front of our house against the flow of traffic. I told Brian to run out and talk the officer so we wouldn't get a ticket. He ran outside and moved the truck. The officer was not very welcoming. He told Brian, "That isn't allowed around here." Okay, fine. Lesson learned. (But what was the big deal anyway? Were they afraid someone driving down the street would suddenly forget which way the traffic flowed and follow the parked cars? If so, they shouldn't be driving anyway. Simple driver's ed...drive on the right side of the road.)
The three other incidents with the police all involved the situation with the little girl (previous post). I am so hoping that is an isolated occurrence and not a trend in my life as an Oakwood resident. So, while I am glad to have the protection, I am also a little ruffled by the lack of privacy too. I suppose that is just what goes with the territory. I moved from the boonies to an urban neighborhood. Just another little adjustment to be made.
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