Remodel or Move?

It finally happened. Your youngest child has flown the coop. Whether you are mourning or celebrating (or both), house-wise, you may be ready for a change. Perhaps you want to "downsize" now that your family is smaller. Conversely, now that you have more disposable income, visions of your dream home - complete with sun porch and luxury bathroom - may be dancing in your head.

Should you remodel? Move? Stay put for a while? It's a tough question with financial and emotional implications… and you should carefully consider both aspects before you jump in.

Here are a few questions to consider when considering whether to remodel or move:

1. Are the kids really gone? Many parents are familiar with the "boomerang" child phenomenon. Kids move out for a while and then suddenly, they're back. You may want to postpone converting your child's bedroom to a home office or moving a thousand miles across country until you're sure he isn't coming back.
2. Do you like your neighborhood? This one is a biggie. It may be that you chose your current home only because of its school district. Now that schools are no longer a factor, maybe you're itching to leave the dull suburbs and settle downtown, or in a mountain cabin, or in a seaside cottage. On the other hand, if you really love your neighborhood, you have a strong reason to stay put. A great neighborhood is hard to replicate. Remodeling is a way to keep what you already love and make it even better.
3. Will you have plenty of space for houseguests or visiting grandkids? You may find yourself reconnecting with long-lost friends. If you're in a downsizing mode, be sure to allow plenty of space for houseguests in your new home. And don't forget about the "g" word - grandchildren! No matter how you feel about it, grandparenthood may loom in the not-so-distant future. Keep in mind that some of your overnight guests may be of the pintsized variety. If you go the remodeling route, consider creating a "guest suite" for visitors.
4. Will your floor plan be easy to navigate in your golden years? "Chances are, slowing down is the last thing on your mind, says Dan Fritschen, author of Remodel or Move? "And rightly so. Most empty nesters have plenty of vital years ahead of them. But you must consider the future. The day may come when climbing the stairs isn't as easy as it is now."
5. Have you considered the cost of each choice? Both choices can be expensive. For novices, seduced by the glamour of gleaming new refrigerators and whirlpool tubs, a remodeling project can quickly become a money pit. On the other hand, moving is far from "free." The key is to do your homework up front so you can make an educated decision. Check out the calculator at wwwremodelormove.com for a starting point.

The beauty of being empty nesters is getting to determine what your nest looks like. No longer having to base your home decisions on the wants and needs of kids can be an incredibly liberating experience. The best course of action is to educate yourself, taking into account all the financial, emotional and lifestyle factors, then make the decision and have fun with it.

Walking My Worries Away

The trail I've walked nearly every day for 10 years is sprinkled with clumps of wild flowers in spring, crisp green foliage in summer, crunchy leaves in autumn, and bare naked branches in winter.

The walks had been carefree until one day when worry joined me on the way, making it a tiresome habit instead of a time to give muscles and lungs a daily workout while climbing steep inclines at a fast clip. The return trip had always been more leisurely, freeing my mind and body to ramble and amble where they pleased.

But no more. Dark thoughts of a friend's death, my sister's illness, and mounting bills filled my mind.

A few days of walking with worry as my constant companion made me stomp up the hill with dark thoughts about the lives of family and friends and visions of impending poverty.

No fresh mountain breeze whipped across my face, no birds singing for me.

The road was dusty and dirty and hard. I huffed upward, feeling every working muscle and wondered if this was just a waste of time. I should be at the computer working. As I tromped on, the problems seemed to grow worse and more plentiful. Would my car pass the smog check? A water faucet needed fixing.

The return walk was no better. Instead of poetry, my mind went into overdrive with the problems that mounted around me. The worries popped up when I wrote or did the dishes or met with friends. Worry wrapped its cold tentacles around me like a hungry octopus.

Worry accomplishes nothing, I know. Stop it! I say, knowing that my command carries little might with an enemy as strong as the worry monster. Maybe I can approach it from the rear, silently and in camouflage: allow myself to worry only on the way up the trail. That allows about 30 minutes for daily fretting. That's plenty of time.

The bargain's made. I reach the crest after my half-hour of worrying, and force myself to start down the hill thinking about the shape of a cloud hanging in the sky. It is an altocumulus or a cirrocumulus? Never mind. It's simply a lazy puff of white cloud. Whoops, here comes a worry. Kick it out.

Two days later I allow myself only 20 minutes in the stew pot. I have to rush through them quickly so as not to go over the allotted time limit.

By week's end, I'm down to 10 minutes of worry time on the walks. It's amazing how much chafing can be compressed into those few minutes. Days later, it takes only five minutes to go over them as if reading flash cards.

I finally ask myself why I'm wasting those previous five minutes with worry. It helps nothing and makes me feel more impotent because I can't do anything about it on the trail.

Another week of walking and I'm able to clear out those five remaining minutes of worry. An army of radiant thoughts marches in to take their place. The walks are fun again. There's a lilt to my voice when I say "Hello!" on the phone. I think about planning a small dinner party. I envision a trip up north to see the redwood trees.

Before I know it, checks begin to arrive. My sister still has the same zest for life, despite a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. The car passed the smog test.

How dear is this trail, filled with clear reflections of life and no room to litter it with worrying. Only unfettered nature watching and daydreaming fill my wonder-filled walks.

Rita Robinson can be reached at rsuerobinson@charter.net