Resume play

7 01 2015

It’s time to hit the Resume Play button of my life. The elves have left to help someone else.

Indeed, it feels like a brand new life. The 12-month year for me starts on my birthday this Friday. Then I’ll turn 66. With much gratitude I say good-bye to 66 years (especially the year 2014) and say hello to today.

Since DH’s birthday on Dec. 20—we had a little party here on the 21st—so much has occurred, I really don’t remember exactly what, nor am I able to put the events in chronological order. No matter. That was yesterday.

Since the fire and for the last nine days, New Year’s Day and Sunday excepting, a professional after-fire cleaning crew has been at the studio, removing soot and odor from everything inside the structure. Four to nine people at a time, depending on the tasks. Such hard workers. I called them elves.

What a blessing. This morning, when I awoke, the din of the four air scrubber machines was gone. I could hear the birds and the surf again. The air smelled sweet. I had slept soundly through the night. I could look forward to a day with no visitors (perhaps?).

I can’t find any-Thing, but I know it is here somewhere and that it is clean!

“Sorry, we rearranged your things,” one of the elves said smiling. The cool thing is, I like the rearrangement. When I go through my things systematically in one direction to find something and come across something I don’t need any more, I toss it into the trash or set it aside to re-bless someone else. And, truthfully, I don’t need much.

In a new setting, I can keep only what I need or what brings me joy!

Some of the things are in cardboard boxes because the elves did a partial “pack out.” It was obvious to them the next step was a kitchen renovation. The result is “out of sight, out of mind.”

The clichés have meaning: “Every dark cloud has a silver lining.” “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” “Fire purifies.” “Out with the old, in with the new.” “Let it go.”

To keep my feet on the ground and because I like to honor commitments, I’ll resume teaching and writing in a few days, but that’s it. I can say Aloha to the past, start over, reset, choose to (re)act in a new way to events in my life and create a different and joyful experience.

Thank you, dear friends. I’ll certainly keep you.

Copyright 2015 Rebekah Luke

 

 





The morning after . . . the fire

29 12 2014

Where to begin? Main thing, everyone at the studio including Pua the dog is all right, and the house is still standing.  Second main thing, we have the most wonderful set of neighbors who we heap upon tons of gratitude. Third main thing, if you have a Bosch dishwasher like ours was, did you know it was recalled in 2009 for causing fires? Scroll to bottom of this post if you have a Bosch.

dishwasher

Our  family was so very lucky for the quick-thinking and action of our neighbors yesterday. It could have been a lot worse. As it is now, no one was injured, one appliance is fried, a little bit of cabinetry is charred, the kitchen floor is icky, and there is soot everywhere. We’re waiting for the professional after-fire cleaners to arrive to help clean.

We’re all a bit on edge, still in a little shock.

We’re late leaving for the concert in Honolulu — Beethoven’s 9th symphony — that I am looking forward to hear with our friends Becky and Susan. And Kasey and Doc. A few miles down the highway I realize I’ve forgotten Christmas presents, my phone, my glasses. Should we turn around? No, keep going. How to tell Becky at the box office that we might be late? Ah, Pete (DH) has a phone and I can send a text.

Soon his phone rings, it’s not Becky, it’s our neighbor-across-the-street Carol. “There’s smoke coming from your house, how do we get in?”

“What?!” I think. I calmly give her instructions and hear her relaying them to someone else, step by step.

“They’re ready to break the door down.”

“Wait, here’s how to get in. Call 911.”

“They think it’s coming from the kitchen.”

“Get the dog!”

Carol tells me everything. “There’s smoke coming out of the front room [which is on the opposite side of the dwelling on the second floor, so I’m puzzled].”

“Okay, they got the door open. They got the dog. Here comes the fire engine. I’m not going in there.”

By this time Pete has turned around the car and we’re headed 13 miles back home in bumper-to-bumper Sunday afternoon traffic.

Carol says, “There’s nothing you can do. The fire department is here.”

Over the phone I can hear other voices, the clomp of shoes, and what sounds like water spraying.

One of our worse fears. Various scenarios play through our minds on the ride home. Did we turn everything off? Stove? Iron? Christmas lights? Was I careless and did I leave an oily rag around from painting?

Then Pete remembers. You know, we just had all that electrical work done yesterday for the new solar system. Oh, jeez, you think?

Turning onto our lane, there’s the fire truck, all of the neighbors and their kids and babies outside, waiting calmly. There was Pua on a borrowed leash. She was quivering, so the kids are taking her for a run. The drama is over by the time we arrive. 25 to 30 minutes have elapsed.

Inside the house we see our neighbor Michael, our hero, the one who wanted to bust the door down. Several neighbors had smelled the smoke and reacted. Michael said he immediately climbed to the roof to check the solar collectors, with young Haven (the very bright boy from another family, who got Pua; thanks Haven!) behind him.

Then Michael saw fire in the kitchen, yelled to Haven for the water hose that was conveniently nearby, and blasted the flames. He said at that point it was so hot the dishwater door flew open. The Kaaawa firefighters came in and shook his hand for putting out the fire. Oh. My. Gosh.

I wondered why it was so dark in the kitchen after the fire. The once-white ceiling was now black with soot.

I wondered why it was so dark in the kitchen after the fire. The once-white ceiling is now black with soot.

A couple-three tips:

  • If you have a Bosch dishwasher manufactured in the United States between May 1999 and July 2005 and sold in the United States and Canada, know that there was a volunteer recall to repair certain machines. They were recalled because they were fire hazards. We did not know this. Perhaps we did not file the registration papers when we bought ours.
  • After a fire, after contacting the insurance company, call the professionals to help clean up the mess, 1-800-SERVPRO. http://www.servpro.com/fire-damage-tips. Have patience, try not to touch anything. From ceilings to floors, even on my computer screen as I write this, there is a fine dust that looks like pepper. It’s soot.
  • Practice gratitude and kindness toward your family and neighbors. We are one ‘ohana.
Copyright 2014 Rebekah Luke