I’ve gotten over the ecstasies of patching a carpet and have moved on to the wonders of staging. You’ve heard of it? It’s the process of making a home look like nobody lives there without making it seem vacant.

I get it. When we have shopped for homes, I’m always drawn to the minimalist decor. This home was vacant when we bought it and it allows me to notice the great features of the house itself.

That’s the premise behind staging. As shown in an earlier picture, our master bedroom has a cute little leather camel back sofa in the bay window. It’s a delightful nook with targeted lighting overhead, perfect for reading. But the stager urged us to remove the couch and attendant table altogether and to place a low bench in it’s place. “Show off what you’re selling, which is the view.” So the bedroom looks a little sparse, but indeed you do notice the pretty view of the back yard from the huge windows, the natural light, the ample space.

She also urged us to take down all personally identifying photos and keepsakes. She was fine with pictures of Jesus and temples.

One other interesting element to her instruction was to get plain colored comforters for the beds with quilts. The quilts look so pretty and add a splash of color, I thought she’d love them. But she’s looking at it from the view of how it will look in a photograph and quilts look too busy. They give the effect of clutter. She listed the best place to get good prices on the things we needed. . .Ha! imagine giving the Queen of Thrift advice on where to get a bargain! “All my favorite stores” was all I said.

She divided up my favorite orange towels into two bathrooms and now we have no drab bathrooms.

“Buyers expect to be able to look into any built in storage.” So I guess we’re taking our underwear out of the dressers in the closets. But it’s true, I’d want to make sure that the drawers all worked and see how deep they were.

This house has built in storage everywhere. Even the toilet room in the master suit has an overhead cupboard and a wall cabinet with shelves overhead. Since there’s another linen closet right outside the door, I’m not sure what to put in that little space. “Roll up some towels and put them on the shelves so it looks like it has a purpose.” OKAY!  Now we need to “prepack” dishes and glassware. That’s a euphemism for “hide your junk.”

Overall, it was fun. We hauled one love seat, two occasional tables, an ottoman, three potted trees,a bench, two wooden aquarium stands (Thomas likes to build with 2×4’s) and about 100 more books out to the garage. Today I’ll buy comforters, a new welcome mat, touch up paint for the nail holes I will have to fill, black mulch for the front flower bed, (later I’ll add some new pansies. . .the deer have done in the ones I planted in the fall) My son Scott took down the rope that had been a swing from an old oak in the back yard, knocked down the arbor and knocked apart the redwood bench I built to go on the deck in Colorado. (Redwood does rot eventually). Scott also sheeted the interior walls of our garage/shed for yard equipment and woodshop. Since it’s got electricity and lights, I think code requires that wiring be covered. It looks so nice and we got lots of scrap wood pulled out,too.

What a process!

Grandpa Bud Arnold.

When I was a child, the thought of a parent remarrying after the death of the other parent would have filled me with horror.

But my Dad had been dead 6 years. Mom liked a widower in her Church ward. Yes, it seemed a little creepy at first that my mom was blushing over a man in his 80’s

But romance bloomed and they were married.
Bud quickly assumed the title “Grandpa Bud”, and it didn’t seem so weird. He loved the Lord and he treated my Mom with chivalry and kindness. He loved to find clever ways to fix things. He loved to have exactly the right container for every purpose. This led to a bit of pack-rattery, but when I’m in my 90’s I plan on doing what I want, too.

For our youngest son, Thomas, he was the only grandpa he remembered.

When we’d gather, no matter how big the party, Bud always said, “If you do the cooking, I’ll do the dishes.” There was always a little twinkle in his brown eyes when he’d shoo us out of the kitchen. I think it was his way of avoiding the noise and confusion (he wore hearing aids) without seeming antisocial.

I grew to love him. I think we all did. I never expected to feel like he was my stepfather, but he was much more to me than my mother’s husband.

Bud died early last month. The funeral was on his and my mother’s 16th wedding anniversary. He was 3 months shy of his 99th birthday.

There were hundreds of people at his funeral. There were about a dozen men for whom he had been their mission president.  He had buried 3 wives (all to cancer) before he married my mother. So he had 3 biological children, 2 adopted children, and technically, 15 step children. That speaks volumes about his patience!

Now he’s met his Maker. I bet it was a warm reunion. He’s met my dad. I think they’d like each other.

We just never know what life holds for us, do we? I have wondered what it was like to meet the three women who had been his wives (consecutively, not simultaneously!) I understand that his first wife, the mother of his children, told him that she did’t want him to remarry. It may have been an awkward reunion.

So yet another friend waits on the other side. What a day it will be when we are together with all of those loved ones that precede us in death.

Until then, rest in peace.