MY FIRST TIME

Friday afternoon was spent with Handyman on a jaunt to Home Depot -- my first time! The surreal aspect of all of this -- home rehabbing and learning about drywall and pony walls and pocket doors and 3 ton central a/c systems, 2x4's and and studs (OK, I knew about that last part) is becoming more and more real as I absorb it and, hopefully, learn, and increasingly grasp the words I once only parroted back and now am more and more understanding and absorbing -- connecting the dots -- as it all starts to make sense..as I start to see the whole..."the vision" as designer extraordinarre CB calls it...

Beware of being overcharged! As I felt like an astronaut stepping onto the surface of the moon for the first time, that was my foray into Home Depot. If it wasn't for protective Handyman -- who scanned the receipt and checked off the purchases of lumber, 2x4's et al, I would have been screwed aka overcharged $150! The clerk ran up double the amount of 2x4's we actually had and charged me for "birch" which was not anywhere NEAR my cart.  That was my first lesson. Don't let shell-shock stop you from looking at your receipt.  HD reversed the charges, but still.

Handyman is pushing this huge open cart -- a shopping cart on steroids -- to fit plywood and lumber to build up the drooping kitchen floor. and I'm walking, dazed, down the aisles, looking way up at the so-high ceilings. With my mouth open and eyes as wide as saucers, I felt like a little kid  at the Planetarium. 

He grabs a 2x4, like it's a toothpick and throws it in my hand. Trying not to stagger to the floor under the weight of it, I smile and pretend to be oh-so-casual.

"I got it."

"Are you sure?  I can load these myself on the cart if you want."

"Oh, no, no. I'm your right-hand man today.  I'm enjoying this."

His eyes narrowed.  

"Have you been to Home Depot before?"

"Um, well, no."

His face brightened.  

"This is good for you, then! You learn about your house this way."

"I'm a sponge."

"Okay, hold the 2x4 in your hand tight. I know it can be hard to hold on to, because it's so thick and long."

"I can do this.  Really. I got this part down."

"Hold on to it, right near your chin and look at it all the way down. You want to be able to look at the lumber and tell if it's cut straight.  Look at it."

I peer intently at this piece of lumber, slightly trembling in my hands as I try to balance the unwieldy piece o' wood.

Conversely, Handyman holds his deftly, steadily, like he's swabbing with a Q-Tip.

He says, "Hold it right under your chin.   Can you tell if it's straight?"

I give him a look and smile. 

"Can you?"

"Every time!" 

At that moment, I realized Handyman doesn't have gaydar. It's not part of his life experience and it's not visible to him. I thought, well, maybe he figured it out about me but left it alone, but I guessed wrong...later that day, we were talking about CB. He's spoken with her a few times on the phone about her design plans but he's heard our plethora of phone calls back and forth from L.A. to Chicago.  

Later that day, when I had just gotten off the phone with her, he asked, "The two of you are so close...you speak of her with such affection and the way the two of you talk to each other." In a very good-natured way, he said, "Do you mind if I ask, are you more than friends?"

For that nano-second as I formulated a response (which way should I go with THAT one?), I decided on, "No, no, no.  She's like a SEES-ter to me!  She's my best friend.  We've known each other for almost 25 years."

I told CB about it and she laughed, "Oh, my God!  The way we talk to each other, the two of us sound like an old married couple and that's what he picked up on!"  

Handyman and I continue to bond. When I said I could move the kitchen table (my makeshift office) upstairs into what will become my office now, he said, "No, don't go upstairs.  I like to have you here downstairs near me." It was so sweet. We joke, he lustily sings DEES-co songs (it was that or country, and I opted for vintage disco) on the radio all day (he sang in a Polish choir and he has a great voice so it's no hardship on me), we have our lunch each day here.  

I made Jamaican salmon (for the first time, I might add) in my oven which will be but a memory in a couple of weeks when it's disconnected to make way for the kitchen work and we chat about life, remodeling and his life in Poland and in the Polish army, his wife and kids. As CB says, we've developed this sort of brother relationship...he's the younger one but acting like a big bro' and I'm the ever-so-slightly (AHEM) older one but in the role of the younger sib.  

It's completely non-sexual, and I'm really enjoying this 'guy time'...as one who grew up without a father, it's something I've craved and never had, really. I had a touch of it in my last relationship, but it still was framed within a sexual situation/relationship, and that's not at all what this is with Handyman. Handyman likes teaching me stuff about the house and I can't get enough of his how-to and try-this-and-why-that-won't-work hands on education.  

I'm having a/c guys and electricians and window sales people come to the house to make bids and he steps in and asks the right questions, things I didn't know to ask or he asks from a tougher POV as a handyman-contractor. I said to Handyman, they walk in the door all smiles and spine straight ready to dazzle and close a deal when they see me but when Handyman gets finished with them, asks them the hard questions and pulls the truth out of 'em, they leave, hunched over, broken and glassy-eyed, the fire kicked out of 'em.

He said, "I'm your shield.  I'll take care of you. I know this house means a lot to you because it belonged to your mom and your step-dad. They worked hard all of their lives for this house and you have changed your life and spending your money too on this house. I know this is your first-time and so think of me as your shield. I feel, what's the word, protective."

With all the horror stories out there about contractors and handyman et al, I feel so blessed and relieved. Of course, there is no better than CB, who knows me more than anyone else and is fiercely protective of me too...even at the frustrating moments I create where she wants to hit me upside the head...and rightly so...

CB is pouring her heart and soul into this house for me (hours and hours) and I am overwhelmed at her generosity and caring. She even turned down a prime-time series to come to Chicago to work on my house in May -- if THAT isn't an expression of friendship to the first-degree, I don't know what is!  

Last night, she faxed two sketches of how she envisioned the kitchen. I looked at them and I have to admit, I got verklempt...what it is now (see pic) and what it will transform into is something beyond what I could have imagined. And with CB as the watchdog on every detail and cost of each item, it's financially feasible for me; it wouldn't be otherwise.

As a former apartment/condo renter in Chicago and Los Angeles, I'm someone who has never has experienced a new stove, new toilet, new bathtub or shower. Every oven had someone else's grease in it, every toilet had been, um, broken in, every tub and sink had hairs in the drain that weren't mine. I was thrilled when I got a new coffeemaker or toaster, or cell phone, that was about it for me.  The concept, the emerging reality, that my mom's home, with so many good memories, can hold all of those great years but will be transformed for me...the best combination of old and new...and create a world I have never known before.  

It's part of my Chicago transformation, I guess. A few days ago, I walked down to the neighborhood coffee shop for b'fast.  I called MS as I looked out the big window. It was a bright, sunny day, no snow, 36 degrees. I said to her, "It's glorious outside!"

She sputtered, laughing, and said, "GLORIOUS? My, how you've changed in the six weeks you've been here!"

On Saturday, Handyman and I were taking a lunch break and talking about being overcharged for the supplies. He said, well, you have to always look at every receipt, wherever you buy anything.  Then he said, you hadn't been to Home Depot before, so it was all new to you.

I said, yeah, but I got into it. I want to go back and buy more, um, whatever.

He smiled and said, "You write.  I build.  I'm Home Depot and you're Office Depot."

How could I refute the obvious?