25 October 2018

35 Minutes

Every work day I leave work thinking that I will come home and be motivated to do stuff. Stuff like chores, or writing, or projects, or all of those.  But in the twenty-ish minutes it takes to go door-to-door, my motivation seems to disappear. I'm convinced it's a tear in the time space continuum

I'm unsure what happens exactly, sometimes it's as simple as watching Bones or Doctor Who, sometimes it's a nap, sometimes it's just a whole lot of I Can't Want To.

The funny/stupid thing is that if I would just buckle down and do these things, it would take hardly any time.  Instead, I unintentionally wait until Kevin phones to tell me he's on his way home.  His commute takes at least thirty-five minutes.

Suddenly with that phone call, I am motivated.  Suddenly in thirty-five minutes I will have emptied the dishwasher, sorted the laundry, paid bills, or whatever. Or all of it.  In thirty-five minutes, I'll have completed most of what I'd planned to that morning.

It's not like Kevin cares even one second about any of these things.  In fact, I doubt he notices. This is 100 percent on me. 

I can rationalize that it is the ADD because that's probably what it is.  But it is annoying.  It is nice knowing that anything I want to do is doable in 35 minutes or less.  And that Kevin doesn't give a sh*t about this silly deception...and that's not even the right word but you get what I'm saying.

14 October 2018

He Didn't Tell Anyone

We were supposed to be in Canada two weekends ago for our last race.  We were actually physically getting ready to race on Friday when my sister-in-law phones to tell us that my father-in-law had a stroke. I didn't hear the first two calls because racecar and there were two voicemails.  When my sister-in-law is freaking out, sh*t has gone sideways.


We packed up two pits in thirty minutes (a normal hour-long process) and it takes at least an hour just to get home depending on the border, then 20 minutes past that just to get to the hospital.  That was a really long ride.

It turns out that... and I have to do this in a listicle:
he took Kevin's mom's meds by accident
He didn't tell anyone FOR AN HOUR
He had chemically induced stroke and dropped.  
He was non-verbal and had little motor skills.
No one was home because we were in Canada and my s-i-l was at work.(45 minutes away)  I am usually no further than 15 minutes away, if I'm not at home.  This was the ONE TIME that I wasn't.
My m-i-l tried to call me but I didn't hear it.  She called the nephew's wife thinking it was my sister-in-law.

The kids got there first, followed by the s-i-l then eventually us. The kids were ROCKSTARS, I am so proud of how they handled this.

Because it was a chemically induced stroke,  it's reversible with little to no deficits. Right now he has about 90% of his speech back and all of his movements.  He  couldn't say "Republican" the other day and I had to laugh. (fully aware of the Hell I'm going to)

The only reason this wasn't fatal is because he takes the opposite of her meds for A-Fib and they counter-acted what he had taken.  Otherwise, this would have been a very different story. What absolute dumb luck.

So now, he's home again.  His speech is a still a little garbled at times. I'm sure they recommended he have speech therapy and I'm just as sure he won't.  He now insists that he didn't have a stroke.  "It was the medicine. They didn't say stroke."   

That's why I haven't been over there today.

We are insisting to dummy-proof the medicines because this isn't the first whoops they've had. (the 3rd, actually) and they are resistant again.  

This is an easy fix but one would think that we're insisting they sleep outside.  Kevin explained twice that if something happens to his dad, they're going into a home because none of us are able to quit our jobs to care for them.  That hit a target, for sure. I ordered two vastly different pill organizers for them and they'll be here tomorrow.  

So that was stressful enough AND THEN, like always, the brother tried to make it about him.  He was hurt because I was curt when he asked "Well, what happened?"  after Kevin had just told him word for word what his wife said. We're literally throwing things into the truck and trailer and he just sat in his trailer.  His wife had called him multiple times but he didn't answer the phone, even after we knew what happened.

in the ER room, he told his dad (who at the time is still not verbal yet) "I just knew that you were working outside and had been laying out there dying and not able to get help."  WHAT.THE.ACTUAL.FUCK.  Do you HEAR the words you're saying!?!

We heard four times (I counted) how he's doubted about taking his own medicine. Until finally one of his kids shut him down and he shut up.  This isn't about you for the love of gawd.

So, we went back to the racetrack the next morning with the families permission and left them to tend to the parents.  It was WAY THEIR TURN. (they stayed in bed the last time when Kevin's mom nearly died at the house and in the ambulance)  Yeah, the s-i-l went and stayed the day at the hospital while he stayed home and did nothing.  Again: W.T.A.F.  He had one job and sent his wife to do it.

Oh, and this is the same hospital that very nearly killed our nephew.  We watched that boy steel his spine and work through his own stuff that day, in addition to being there for his grandpa, without a word.  Seeing nurses who cared for him, walking the halls he walked, all of it.  He's the opposite of his father though and I have to express gratefulness of his strength and be so proud. He didn't make it about him and that is the shiny side of  this situation.

12 October 2018

Too Short! Too Long!

I rarely buy new clothing.  There's a few reasons:  I'm frugal, I hate shopping, and after years of having free clothing access at a job, I just got out of the habit.  Online clothing shopping can be so disappointing that I just don't usually try.  I'm an immediate gratification kind of person when it comes to clothing. Well, everything really.

Now that I have a different job, I have to think about this clothing thing.  Stuff wears out, gets ruined, or styles go out of fashion or whatever.  I've hit that point in my closet.  If I could just go to work in varying forms of yoga or track pants and hoodies, it will be all good.  But no, sometimes I have to dress like a grown-up.

I've read with interest Swistle's adventures in shopping.  Mostly I'm all What She Said with the issues she talked about and  that I've encountered.

I hate that sizing keeps changing and that it isn't standardized throughout the industry. I know this isn't a new frustration but gah, would someone please fix this?

I have found that with shopping at second-hand shops, the sizing isn't always an issue.  Clothing is often not quite on trend so the sizes aren't so varied.  Sure, there are a few designers/manufacturers that I'm a hard pass on because I know their cuts are wrong for me.

It took me a while to figure this out because I don't usually buy new.  I can grab an extra large at the second hand store and it will fit.  Grab one at a regular store and not so much.  Specifically: Target, I can rarely grab something from them "in my size" and have it fit.  Like "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" doesn't fit.

To sound like an old lady, I could usually count on JC Penney for fitment. (that's usually a car term but I'm using it here.) Also, it's that pleasant time warp whiplash walking in the store. Suddenly, it's 1986 and I'm at the mall!! But both JCPenney stores near me have since closed so that's a bummer.

I tried to buy simple t-shirts from Amazon but even with sizing up, they were too small. And so, so long.  I have the opposite problem as Swistle: these sizes are often too short for her yet too long for me.  I kept them and can report that they make excellent pajamas.  So soft!

Then, on a whim, I went to Old Navy because I remembered that Swistle mentioned the store.  My only experience with this store was from YEARS ago.  I was looking for something specific for one of the kids and they had just opened in my area.  The music was SO LOUD and there were workers scurrying around with headsets, and the place was chock full of stuff and people, and a little messy.  I was so out.  Sensory Overload times three.

This store is smaller, I think, and it was much more chill.  I did find two t-shirts that I adore.  They're also a little long but I think a few washings will take care of  that.  I went back to find if there were any more in a color I didn't hate but not so much.  I'll try again another day.

Oh, and what's with the threadbare, nearly see-through thing?  Ugh, I'm not a fan.  I've noticed that the wally world has that style of fabric also.  Oh, and another example: their sizing is too big usually.  Go figure.  My cynical mind thinks manufacturers equate poor folks to bigger bodies and wealthy ones to smaller ones.

Then that takes me to this and I can't remember if I've ranted about this before.  I am curvy because boobs. Omg, so much boobs.  So while I'm short, I'm curvy.  So it seems in the clothing industry, if you wear anything above a large, it has to be extra long. I mean, I get it but there are short larges in the world.  There is sometimes petite sizing but get this, it's often too short of a cut for my body.

Also if you wear beyond a large, you get to have big, giant DESIGNS on your shirt.  Oh, you're an XL?  here is a mammoth butterfly.   Or a GIRAFFE.  Because you also haven't earned grown-up clothing if you're this size, obvs.   And this boggles my mind: stripes.  Horizontal stripes nonetheless.  And glitter! or sequins! Sometimes all.of.the.things. Don't even get me started with the ruffles and peplums. (And yes, I know what a peplum is.  I watch Project Runway.)  Sigh...deep breath...

So, I've become Oprah when I find something I like: I try to buy many of them when I find them.  I've also become like a former coworker who once stated that her life goal was to come into work dressed in pajamas that you couldn't tell were pajamas.

03 October 2018

Shelter Plants

One of the hobbies that I have purposefully cultivated (ha! gardening pun!) is gardening.  Right now it's just flowers and the such but I do have a food garden idea in my head that I may try next year.  I worry about my attention span when it comes to something like that but my worry about the state of the world is beginning to outgrow that. (ha! another one!)

I should have gardening in my genes, it should come naturally but it doesn't.  My paternal grandfather had a huge garden, full of flowers, vegetables and fruit trees.  My ancestry is full of farmers.  But in the past, I've struggled with keeping things alive.  I mean, I have a husband who has access to any type of soil, compost, or bark that a person can imagine.  This shouldn't be this difficult.

When we bought this house in 1991, it had a very overgrown rock garden.  In fact, we didn't even notice it, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law did.  They were very excited at the time but Kevin and I were "Meh" because it just wasn't important to us. So they took clippings for their gardens and we just kind of let it be.

Now the only thing that still exists from that garden is a giant rhododendron that has been relocated twice, once by excavator.   Now it stands about about ten feet tall and provides a place for the bunnies to escape from Lucy.

When we built the house we live in now, Kevin made friends with the contractor.  Our house sits over an embankment that previously was just grass and trees.  The trees had to be removed due to their hazardous location and we had to do something about drainage because Washington = Rain.

So, Kevin and the contractor came up with a tiered rock garden idea and got it started. The state required us to plant X-amount of native plants to compensate for the new house.  We went to the nursery, handed them the list (that they promptly called bullshit) and they gathered up what we needed.  So that gave us tamarack bushes, rhododendrons, ornamental firs, and junipers.  We buried those and figured that would suffice for now.

Kevin and I disagree with the amount of native ferns that grow. (which can be a lot)  As a result, he and his brake cleaner (a.k.a weed killer) has been banished from the garden.  But again, because Washington, I am constantly battling alder seedlings.  I will spend an entire morning doing nothing but pulling those frustrating little trees.  Kevin brought home super expensive, high quality bark that he makes and guess what alders love?  that bark!  Ugh.

Then I discovered the clearance racks at Freddys (Krogers)    This has been the best thing ever for me.  Once I learned to look for perennials instead of annuals, it was off to the rodeo.  For $3, who cares if it dies?  My inner child also bonds with these plants that have been rejected because  they're not quite good enough.  I always tell them they can come grow at our house.  Like shelter dogs, only plants.

There are also these things call SEEDS that people use!  This is the first year that I tried those and so far the only thing that has grown is larkspur.  (which grows native here, actually)  Maybe some daises but I can't tell if they're weeds or actual flowers.  (short attention span, again)

Which is the other thing.  I have forgotten from year to year what I've planted.  So this is the second summer that something has grown and I have no idea what it is or where it came from.  I'd like to take credit for it but nope, it's the aforementioned attention span.

Lucy is pretty good about the garden.  She does like to dig under the giant hydrangea to be in the shady cool and daisies must be tasty for puppies. Oh, and day lilies are way to fragile to withstand Lucy patrolling the garden every day.  (we call it "walking the wall") She just looks at them and they're all "I'm out."  Otherwise she is very skilled at critter removal in the garden.

Now that I've figured all of this out, I enjoy it.  I do whine about the hour it takes to water during the heat waves but even that forces me to relax. I mean, standing there holding a hose and listening to the birds isn't a bad gig really. I eventually find it therapeutic pulling the weeds, especially when I call them names as I'm doing it.

My father-in-law is now working on a section that we've always left wild.  It's hard clay mostly and steep.  I've started planting things there just to see if it will grow and I've been mostly successful.  But it's hard work because of the soil and elevation.  I told him to do what he wants and I'll be happy with it.  We'll see how that turns out and I figure anything is better than the dandelions that happily grow there now (and everywhere.)

Then I mentioned during family dinner that I was considering doing a container vegetable garden. The whole family suddenly jumped in and I had to rein them back.  "I SAID: CONSIDERING"  Calm down, family.   Also, I figured it would be a hard no from Kevin and he threw me under the bus with his support. What the hell, Kevin?

Now the weather has turned the corner into Fall so it's too late.  I'm off the hook until the Spring then I'll think about it again.