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“The Internet is down!” I would call to Bill and then walk away from the computer. After a while he would go to the study, do something mysterious, and the Internet would be back. This morning I sat down at the PC to check my e-mail: no Internet connection. Without the Internet, I can’t do my online banking, send messages to my friends, watch movies on my iPad, check the directions to the horse show this Saturday, buy stuff on Amazon, or publish this blog. Staying connected is essential.

My son-in-law told me how to reboot, and sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. I have rebooted the PC up to thirty times before the connection is restored. I have given up calling my service provider because they usually want me to unplug the router and plug the modem directly into the computer, and my son has warned me that removes my first firewall line of defense, leaving my computer open to hackers who will swoop down and invade it. Just thinking about that makes me nervous. So I reboot.

The other day I found written instructions from Bill: “Plug in the modem and wait until the cable light shines steadily. Then plug in the router.” And what do you know: that worked! I got the Internet back this morning with just one try. Thank you, Bill.

Wait until the light shines steadily.

One warm afternoon in May I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway–and into a cloud of thousands of small flying insects. “Termites!” my brain immediately registered, despite my never having seen a termite. I shrieked and closed all the hall doors, to keep them out of the bedrooms. Then I popped open one of the doors, shut myself in the study, and searched the Internet for “termites swarming inside house.” The advice I found was to vacuum them up, so I zipped through the swarm as quickly as I could and came back with my vacuum cleaner. They were emerging from the knotty pine paneling high up on the wall of my living room. It felt like a low-budget version of Hitchcock’s “Birds.” After thirty minutes of vacuuming the swarm stopped. One of the difficult things about being a widow is that when bad things happen, it is up to you to take care of them; there is no partner to share the load. I looked up names of termite companies on the local Checkbook, and started calling. The first inspector came the next day, confirmed that the tiny bodies I had saved were termites, and wrote up a plan of attack. I was tempted to sign the contract, but decided to get a second estimate. That was a wise decision; the second inspector was much more thorough, checked every room in the house including the attic, and went inside all the outbuildings on the property. He found evidence of termites in the family room, in the horse barn tack room, and the garden shed. Thanks to all the information I had read on the Internet, I understood the procedures in the contract, and when the technicians came out and applied the chemicals, I did not think they followed the specs. I asked the inspector to come back out and check; I was right, they had not followed the specifications, so the techs returned and did it right. I watched.

Here is what I learned: termites are everywhere in the ground, just like earthworms. Even if you live in a brick house on a slab, termites can enter your home through a crack in the slab. Termites love damp soil, they can tunnel more easily. I have had the leaking gutters repaired, and will be installing extensions to the downspouts. At the horse barn there was mulch piled against a wall, a rotting tree stump, and a Virginia creeper climbing up the side of the barn–none of that helped. It cost about $2700 to repair the barn. The house doesn’t seem damaged. If we had had regular termite inspections, we could have prevented this problem. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way.

One of the helpful books I read a few months after Bill’s death was Widow to Widow by Genevieve Davis Ginsburg. It is filled with practical advice including the importance of finding a trust worthy handyman. A year ago I hired a man to repair the fences around the horse pasture, but he was helping me out more as a favor and this year said he had no free time. Meanwhile my list of repairs was growing longer and longer; I try to do as much as I can but I am not a carpenter. I had been collecting the names of handymen from friends; one came out, looked at the work to be done, and never contacted me. Finally a friend suggested Ken who is a builder and home remodeler, but also does home repairs when he has time. I know and like Ken who is a member of my church. For the last three weeks he has been here, working on my repair jobs. The photo is the east side of my horse barn; the corner had rotted away from water and termite damage. Even the studs had rotted. Ken rebuilt the entire corner plus part of the gable. Yesterday despite temperatures in the mid-90s I applied the primer to the rough-sawn cedar siding, a very messy and tough job. I asked Ken to paint the gable. There is a point at which being gutsy and tough becomes stupid; getting to the top of the siding was high enough ladder work for me! If you don’t have a good handyman, keep asking your friends and keep looking. Tomorrow: lessons in termites.

Today is the third anniversary of the death of my husband Bill. Cancer took him one month short of his 68th birthday. We were married forty-five years. After Bill died, I searched on the web for words of advice from widows. I found a few, but not many for my age group. The past three years have been tough, but I am finding my way. I hope my adventures and advice will help those newly widowed and also those on parallel paths with me. Don’t worry, there will be laughter as well as tears.