Asking for help
What does the Fairy Blogmother hope to accomplish from these writings?
Just to provide some thought provoking advice that wasn't asked for and isn't commented on, but might just get tucked away in the reader's subconscious thoughts to be retrieved at a later time when needed.
The Fairy Blogmother grew up in the suburbs in the 1950's in a loving home, but one that was often full of turmoil that an alcoholic parent can produce at the tip of a glass. Was it the times or the turmoil or both that fostered the practice of handling problems alone? "Don't ask for help" was my modus of operandi. Other things might be more important.
Thus, faulty thinking that one should handle life's annoyances and hardships alone, fostered by a parochial school education that praised total self- reliance and martyrdom, continued to guide the Blogmother's behavior well into middle age. "Don't ask for help until you're going down for the count" was my motto.
But the big 'aah of relief' moment came not too long ago, and the value of asking for help was rewarding, so the Fairy Blogmother is moved to share the story with the world at large.
The background: Traveling south to escape the snow and winter cold, the Fairy Blogmother arrived on the east coast of Florida with the her big brown dog and her friend and spouse, the wonderful if sometimes grumpy Fairy Blogfather. It's not easy to find a place that allows 85 pound dogs to stay with their owners in beach condo's or apartments. Fortunately, this trio of travelers found 'a garden of Eden' on North Hutchinson Beach, Florida . We arrived only months before the magical place is to meet its demise by the blade of a bulldozer. Ah, progress and increased city taxes will not allow a older charming treasure to stand in the way . The little group of resort apartments will be sold and removed so that tall concrete cells full of self-important people can take its place.
Imagine 10 acres of fields with palm trees and other exotic specimens. One area to the east leads across A1A and to a private boardwalk and an entrance to an Atlantic ocean beach. On the other west side of the road, the field leads to the Indian River and a small state owned island that is a sanctuary for animals and humans. This land, Jack Island has a remote four mile walkway around its perimeter and allows bikes, feet and paws during the daylight hours only.
Within the property (called Bauman's Resort Apartments) sit ten modest little one -bedroom apartments, clean and tidy with tiled floors and wooden ceilings. These relics from the early 50's have been cared for by an quiet older woman for the past fifty years, and her manager, a kind and beefy transplant from Michigan. The owner simply loves her pets and people who love theirs. The manager loves the warmth of Florida and the job that allows him to body surf in the Atlantic each afternoon.
The guests who arrive here for their vacation are usually attracted, not by the stark grey concrete structures, but by the need for a pet- friendly place to stay. And stay they do. One couple arrived eight years ago and never left. Another has returned each winter in February and March for the past 16 years. But it's not really about the people here, dogs rule. There in the center of the interior courtyard is a tiled table with a heated water supply just for bathing the pets. The pedestal commands attention of all in the surrounding the apartments in the small complex, and it is here that the animals enjoy an afternoon of primping in the Florida sunshine- with audience. What could be better?
The dogs even attend Happy Hour each evening from 5 to 6 PM with their owners . Leashes not required. I think the Big Brown Dog would go to the gazebo room without the Blogmother if she had to, just to enjoy the comraderie of man and beast and the ritual that ends each day here at Bauman's.
The repairs are progressing slowly at the other properties here on this barrier island after the hurricanes of the past two years. The area has begun to come back, but not to its grandeur of the past. The hurricanes that had broken the roof tiles and uprooted the trees also damaged the spirit of those who own those structures. The landlord here is a bit weary, I think, and may sell her land and apartments to a real estate mogel rather than relive the anguish of the past years trials as a new storm season advances.
So with her goal to exist until a buyer comes to her, repairs done here are those which are necessary. Mind you, when a guest leaves, the landlord and manager scrub the floor tiles and wash the linens, returning the apartment to a sparkling retreat for visitors. But any major changes or repairs have been halted. Thus the stone pathways of the past are cracked and in disarray, the fountain and pool is dry, and the front gardens remain barren for this season.
Knowing that only necessary repairs and upkeep are being done, I hesitated to ask for help when the shower drain began to back up in my apartment. Just a little inconvenience, I thought. I'll just pour some boiling water down the drain to clear it up. (That was the first and second day.) On day three I went to the store to buy draino. This back-up was cramping by bathing and lifestyle. On day four I made a wonderful spaghetti dish for dinner, only to enjoy it's bright red color a second time as it filled my shower stall after dinner. By breakfast, the red tide had receeded and the shower was available again. I tried to handle my drain's blockage problem for a week with little success. When one evening at Happy Hour the subject of drains came up and I mentioned my predicament to my fellow renters. They insisted that I tell the manager and ask for help. "She would be distraught to know that this was happening and that you might be unhappy," I was told. So I asked for her help. The next day the plumber arrived, the drain was cleared, and I felt rather foolish for having lived for a week at the mercy of a clogged drain.
At long last I learned the lesson that should have come earlier in life. It is easier to ask for help as soon as you need it and it's good to do so. Living with a problem forces you to expend far too much energy needlessly, and creates frowns on your face where none need to develop. So with the experience of the past few weeks the Fairy Blogmother's new mottos are: Ask and you shall receive for allowing others to help you is a gift for them as well as yourself. And I shall from now on.
Just to provide some thought provoking advice that wasn't asked for and isn't commented on, but might just get tucked away in the reader's subconscious thoughts to be retrieved at a later time when needed.
The Fairy Blogmother grew up in the suburbs in the 1950's in a loving home, but one that was often full of turmoil that an alcoholic parent can produce at the tip of a glass. Was it the times or the turmoil or both that fostered the practice of handling problems alone? "Don't ask for help" was my modus of operandi. Other things might be more important.
Thus, faulty thinking that one should handle life's annoyances and hardships alone, fostered by a parochial school education that praised total self- reliance and martyrdom, continued to guide the Blogmother's behavior well into middle age. "Don't ask for help until you're going down for the count" was my motto.
But the big 'aah of relief' moment came not too long ago, and the value of asking for help was rewarding, so the Fairy Blogmother is moved to share the story with the world at large.
The background: Traveling south to escape the snow and winter cold, the Fairy Blogmother arrived on the east coast of Florida with the her big brown dog and her friend and spouse, the wonderful if sometimes grumpy Fairy Blogfather. It's not easy to find a place that allows 85 pound dogs to stay with their owners in beach condo's or apartments. Fortunately, this trio of travelers found 'a garden of Eden' on North Hutchinson Beach, Florida . We arrived only months before the magical place is to meet its demise by the blade of a bulldozer. Ah, progress and increased city taxes will not allow a older charming treasure to stand in the way . The little group of resort apartments will be sold and removed so that tall concrete cells full of self-important people can take its place.
Imagine 10 acres of fields with palm trees and other exotic specimens. One area to the east leads across A1A and to a private boardwalk and an entrance to an Atlantic ocean beach. On the other west side of the road, the field leads to the Indian River and a small state owned island that is a sanctuary for animals and humans. This land, Jack Island has a remote four mile walkway around its perimeter and allows bikes, feet and paws during the daylight hours only.
Within the property (called Bauman's Resort Apartments) sit ten modest little one -bedroom apartments, clean and tidy with tiled floors and wooden ceilings. These relics from the early 50's have been cared for by an quiet older woman for the past fifty years, and her manager, a kind and beefy transplant from Michigan. The owner simply loves her pets and people who love theirs. The manager loves the warmth of Florida and the job that allows him to body surf in the Atlantic each afternoon.
The guests who arrive here for their vacation are usually attracted, not by the stark grey concrete structures, but by the need for a pet- friendly place to stay. And stay they do. One couple arrived eight years ago and never left. Another has returned each winter in February and March for the past 16 years. But it's not really about the people here, dogs rule. There in the center of the interior courtyard is a tiled table with a heated water supply just for bathing the pets. The pedestal commands attention of all in the surrounding the apartments in the small complex, and it is here that the animals enjoy an afternoon of primping in the Florida sunshine- with audience. What could be better?
The dogs even attend Happy Hour each evening from 5 to 6 PM with their owners . Leashes not required. I think the Big Brown Dog would go to the gazebo room without the Blogmother if she had to, just to enjoy the comraderie of man and beast and the ritual that ends each day here at Bauman's.
The repairs are progressing slowly at the other properties here on this barrier island after the hurricanes of the past two years. The area has begun to come back, but not to its grandeur of the past. The hurricanes that had broken the roof tiles and uprooted the trees also damaged the spirit of those who own those structures. The landlord here is a bit weary, I think, and may sell her land and apartments to a real estate mogel rather than relive the anguish of the past years trials as a new storm season advances.
So with her goal to exist until a buyer comes to her, repairs done here are those which are necessary. Mind you, when a guest leaves, the landlord and manager scrub the floor tiles and wash the linens, returning the apartment to a sparkling retreat for visitors. But any major changes or repairs have been halted. Thus the stone pathways of the past are cracked and in disarray, the fountain and pool is dry, and the front gardens remain barren for this season.
Knowing that only necessary repairs and upkeep are being done, I hesitated to ask for help when the shower drain began to back up in my apartment. Just a little inconvenience, I thought. I'll just pour some boiling water down the drain to clear it up. (That was the first and second day.) On day three I went to the store to buy draino. This back-up was cramping by bathing and lifestyle. On day four I made a wonderful spaghetti dish for dinner, only to enjoy it's bright red color a second time as it filled my shower stall after dinner. By breakfast, the red tide had receeded and the shower was available again. I tried to handle my drain's blockage problem for a week with little success. When one evening at Happy Hour the subject of drains came up and I mentioned my predicament to my fellow renters. They insisted that I tell the manager and ask for help. "She would be distraught to know that this was happening and that you might be unhappy," I was told. So I asked for her help. The next day the plumber arrived, the drain was cleared, and I felt rather foolish for having lived for a week at the mercy of a clogged drain.
At long last I learned the lesson that should have come earlier in life. It is easier to ask for help as soon as you need it and it's good to do so. Living with a problem forces you to expend far too much energy needlessly, and creates frowns on your face where none need to develop. So with the experience of the past few weeks the Fairy Blogmother's new mottos are: Ask and you shall receive for allowing others to help you is a gift for them as well as yourself. And I shall from now on.
posted by Lucy and Annie | 10:30 AM
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