Tula - April National Poetry Month

Tula [“Books are door-shaped”]

BY MARGARITA ENGLE

Books are door-shaped

portals

carrying me

across oceans

and centuries,

helping me feel

less alone.

But my mother believes

that girls who read too much

are unladylike

and ugly,

so my father's books are locked

in a clear glass cabinet. I gaze

at enticing covers

and mysterious titles,

but I am rarely permitted

to touch

the enchantment

of words.

Poems.

Stories.

Plays.

All are forbidden.

Girls are not supposed to think,

but as soon as my eager mind

begins to race, free thoughts

rush in

to replace

the trapped ones.

I imagine distant times

and faraway places.

Ghosts.

Vampires.

Ancient warriors.

Fantasy moves into

the tangled maze

of lonely confusion.

Secretly, I open

an invisible book in my mind,

and I step

through its magical door-shape

into a universe

of dangerous villains

and breathtaking heroes.

Many of the heroes are men

and boys, but some are girls

so tall

strong

and clever

that they rescue other children

from monsters.

Margarita Engle, "Tula [”Books are door-shaped”]" from The Lightning Dreamer.  Copyright © 2013 by Margarita Engle.  Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

No One is Winning

This is the sequel to the This.Is.Fine post.

Everyone in a family wholeheartedly believes that they help.  Mostly with no ill intent but sometimes.  Everyone thinks that they contribute.

With my family, I live kind of far away from my mom so the brothers who live closer take care of her. Also, their relationship with the mom is different than ours.  Sure, I step up when needed.  I contribute in small ways they're probably not aware of.  I fully acknowledge that they are the better siblings and bear the most burden. That is okay and I believe that it it is the way of many families.

On the flip side, as mentioned endlessly, I have my hands full with my family here.  They live next door, their health is declining while my mom is remarkably healthy.   I am closer with them than I am with my own family.

If one is to do the math, I was part of my family - if you will - for about nineteen years.  My brothers left home at 18 and 16-ish, so I was an only child at twelve.  Now I'm fifty, been with Kevin almost thirty years.  I've spent more time as a family here than there.  But that's not my point.

Like I mentioned, I contribute with my mom less than my brothers.  Here in this family, we contribute more than the brother-in-law.  We help pay bills, we occasionally feed them, fix things for them, run errands, etc.  We're first line when the ambulance is called.  I'm the one who solves problems with bills, tablet, television, etc.

The brother-in-law does remarkably less than that.  However, he believes he does a lot.  If asked, he will totally take care credit for caring for his parents. Because he wholeheartedly believes he does.  When in truth, the person who usually contributes the most on that side of the fence is actually his wife.  Even then, it is much less than Kevin and I do.  Also, like my family, I'm sure there are things that we aren't aware of but just on a financial and time basis, the lion share is ours.

Here's the point:  this is a thing amongst siblings and families.  Everyone thinks they do their share and it isn't accurate.  There is always someone who does more and someone who does less, and someone who doesn't do much of all.

The trick is to not do exactly what I'm doing here: taking credit.  Just do your thing and move on with your life.  There will be no convincing anyone that someone did more or less or enough.  Even in  the happiest and closest families.  Everyone's perception and ability to contribute is defined differently, by themselves and by others.  I believe that this adversely affects many families and relationships and it's just not worth it.

What matters in the end is that the person who needs the assistance gets it.  It doesn't matter in the end who did it.

But this won't stop my rants like "This.Is.Fine".  I still get to rant.  As should you. It's necessary and healthy to rant when in this situation. Just don't do it while it's happening among the family members.  No one is winning.

This.Is.Fine.

I've said raising parents is not for the weak.  Anyone who is caring for/helping with their elderly parents all agree: it's exhausting.  It never ends.  It's frustrating.

The latest on the parents is that Kevin's dad had to have a pacemaker installed.  This isn't a big deal on the grand scheme of things but nothing ever passes without some sort of drama.

I will begin at the beginning:

We haven't done family dinner for over a month because Kevin's mom tried to die on us again. We've finally gotten to the point where we aren't going every Friday anymore, thank you tiny, sweet, little 8lb 2 oz baby jesus.

Then we went about a month ago.  The parents chose Olive Garden. Fine.  We all get seated and Kevin's dad announces "So, I went to the doctor today."  (Pause: the sons talk to them every.single.day.during.the.day so this announcement is already melodramatic.  Play.)

Everyone stiffens because of course.  And it would TOTALLY be like them to announce a bad diagnosis in the middle of a restaurant.  Bread sticks?  Sure, why not an appetizer too?

He needed a pacemaker.  I nudge Kevin and whisper "Not a big deal."

He continues:  "Yeah, the doctor was so surprised that I walked in there. She said "I don't know how you're standing here." It's so bad.  I watched on the heart monitor and it was like a straight line (flat line) for this long."   (Measure out your hands a generous 12 inches.) "It goes a long time without beating. They just don't know how I haven't died yet."    Do you need more salad? cheese?

It's taking everything in me not to do the high school bullsh*t cough.

He continues on for about a minute when Kevin gathers his wits about him and asks "When are they doing the surgery?"   WAIT FOR IT...

"Oh, in a month."

SO, pushing up my sleeves, you're saying that: you're flatlining for minutes. The doctor thinks you're the walking dead but we're waiting for a month to intervene?  Okay. Sure. Totally plausible.
Oh, good, our food is here because I'm about to slug an old man.

Now, fast forward to Friday.  They said the surgery was at 8:00 a.m.  We were dumb enough to believe them.  No, check in is at 8. The surgery is at 10, barring any delays. Kevin went to work and I got to take Lucy to the vet because she needed her bum taken care of. (so gross)  I got there just before 10 and Kevin is already frustrated.  A new record.

I walk in with him and they're all crammed into this curtained space because it's necessary to have six of us standing there. I looked at Kevin's mom and ask "Where is your oxygen?"   "Oh, I left it at home. It's fine."   It's totally NOT FINE.

She was in the same exact hospital for a week six weeks ago with pneumonia/pertusis, kidney failure, and the beginning of sepsis.  You're right, you totally don't need life support.  Silly me.
Also at this point I want to smack the father-in-law and the sister-in-law who drove them to the hospital for not bringing it. This should be a habit by now. Oh, I forgot: the mother-in-law is in a wheelchair because she can't walk more than a few paces.  But the oxygen? totally don't need it.

They do all the things and the surgeon explains what is happening.  We learn that his heart would indeed stop but for 3 seconds, not the minutes that he reported.  Go figure.  They take him and ask us to wait, it would be a little over an hour.

We go to the waiting room and sit.  Actually, I stayed in the hallway because it's a tiny waiting room and I'm still feeling stabby and punchy.   I checked into work and did some work via my phone until Kevin asked me to come sit down. "Don't make it weird." Oh, buddy, that ship has already sailed.

Awkward silences for a while because his brother hates it when Kevin and I talk to each other.  He feels excluded and ow, my eyes hurt from the eyerolling.  Finally he tries to talk and Kevin uncharacteristically is monosyllabic.  He stops.  Few minutes later he starts squirming around, clearly "trying to get comfortable". (he's over six foot and over 300 lbs, btw)  Finally, he gets the result he was hoping for:  "What's wrong?" his mom asks. The mom in the wheelchair whose husband is having surgery. "He has a headache" the sister-in-law deadpan states, without looking up from her tablet.  He sighs.  Even she is over it at this point.  Silence continues.

Finally, the surgeon comes out and gives us the update. It's all good.  They're eventually taking him upstairs but there isn't a room available yet.  He suggest we say hi then go get lunch.
(doctor speak for "There are too many of you.")  He leaves and everyone just sits there.  Ummm, okay...

Kevin stands up, a little annoyed. "I'll take mom back then."  He wheels her out and I follow him to open the door.  Usually I stay back to give them some space but because the brother has suddenly fallen mute and immobile, I went with Kevin.  We chat for a minute then leave to get lunch.

They are still sitting in the waiting room.  Kevin pauses and says "We're going to got get lunch."  Still, they're immobile.  Kevin just starts walking away.  I love this version of Kevin.

While we're walking there, I suggested that he just park his mom at the table and we will get whatever she needs.  Noooo....because she has to SEE WHAT'S AVAILABLE. In the cafeteria she has been to hundreds of times.  In.the.cafeteria.  Kevin is starting to spin out.  His brother and s-i-l continue to lollygag behind us.  Then they are in front of us, because reasons.

(And as I write this, I realize that they never went to say hi to the dad.)

Finally, I flipped into combat mode. I grabbed what I needed, got Kevin's wallet, paid for my food, and grabbed a table. It was lunchtime so it was busy. By the time I returned, he had awkwardly parked his mom in the way of everyone.

"What does she want?"  "She doesn't know."  He asks her again for the billionth time.  An egg salad sandwich.  I filled out the card because there wasn't one premade and hand it to Kevin.
"I'm taking your mom" and walked away.

I parked her at the table, got utensils and napkins then returned to Kevin.  He is in full-scale about to lose his sh*t mode.  Brother and s-i-l have already ordered and are wandering around looking at stuff.  WTAF.  I took Kevin's wallet again and asked/told him to go sit with his mother.
"I.NEED.A.BREAK.THIS.IS.FINE." he says.  Okay, then.

Her order is ready and now we're waiting for his.  Meanwhile, the brother has gotten his order and is sitting at the table with his mom.  Now he's "helping".  Finally, Kevin's order is up and we paid.  I set up his mom and he sat down at the table with his meal.  He is spun out and no one seems to notice except me.

Now, my book, water bottle, and meal were already at a seat, next to his mom. At the table I set up for us. They're all gathered around a four-person table and have awkwardly pulled a chair up to the corner.  *DEEP CLEANSING BREATH*

I picked up my stuff and sat at the nearby table.  Kevin, absentmindedly says "You're sitting there?"  *DEEP CLEANSING BREATH*  "Where.Do.You.See.SPACE.for.me?  It's ridiculous to cram everyone at a table when it's not necessary."  This is a conversation we have way more often than is reasonable in anyone's lifetime.

During lunch Kevin began to get texts from his guys at work.  He had already planned on returning but they hadn't planned on him being gone so long so there wasn't a contingency plan. Now it was a hurry thing. And Guess what happened?  Suddenly, his brother has to make a call to work, while sitting at the table.  It's a mystery how the same exact things happens to him. It really is.

I peacefully ate my lunch while watching The Pioneer Woman make a dessert and wondered what tempering eggs meant. I finished, cleaned up my table, cleaned up Kevin's stuff.  "Ready?" I asked and he jack-in-the-boxed up and announced he was going to work.  I'm not even certain he said goodbye.

We walked to the parking lot while he muttered.  I'm just scurrying beside him because he's an annoyed six-foot tall and I'm 5'3".  He went to work and I went home to peace and quiet. He went to work to organize ten guys and an excavation company during the busy season because that was easier and more pleasant than his entire morning.

The father-in-law is now home and on the mend.  There has already been two arguments about them accepting help with the house.  Kevin won and our niece will be cleaning their house every other week.  "Oh good, she can do the things I can't do" the mother finally says.  WHICH IS EVERYTHING AND THE WHOLE DOGGONE POINT.  And Kevin made it happen, not his brother.

I'm telling you: raising parents is not for the weak.  Not killing siblings takes superhuman powers.

Nothing Gold Can Stay - April National Poetry Month

Nothing Gold Can Stay

BY ROBERT FROST

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Beautician and Magician

Almost eight months ago, way back in September I had a haircut and I haven't touched my hair since.  Why? you ask.  Because a terrible thing happened.  I decided that I was going to cut the length off to just touching my shoulders.  I do this about once a decade and regret it every.single.time. But that wasn't the problem.

Once again, I came away from the stylist with Moe bangs.  They were so, so, SO SHORT. OMG. SO SHORT.  I'm not usually vain but this was embarrassing.  I have honestly not cut or trimmed my hair since September 2018.  My bangs didn't begin to really bother me until late January.  OMG. SO SHORT.  Think of what every single preschooler looks like when they cut their own hair.  That was me.

I asked my nieces who cuts their hair and gave her a call.  She is just wonderful.  Imagine the perfect hairdresser and she is it.  She is mid-60's, chatty, friendly, will tell you what to do without making you feel stupid.  She is Truvy without the accent.

And she changed hardly anything at all.  She trimmed the dead ends and showed me how to do it.  (I know, right?) she trimmed my bangs so I don't want to shave my head (and showed me how to do it) and she trimmed the sides so it's not a giant cliff from bangs to the rest of my hair.

More importantly, she has hair like I do.  I have baby hair; super fine and soft, and so much so that hair pretties will not stay in my hair without glue.  Braids are impossible.  She knows how to deal with that.  I've just turned fifty and she taught me like I was a teenager and I so appreciated it.  I was never the girl who really cared about hair.  Putting it into a ponytail is the most effort that I will give it.

Here's the other thing with my hair: I have cowlicks. Two of them.  Also, to turn the awkward level up to eleven, one side of my hair turns inward and the other side turns outward.  Because of this unmanageable state I've never really worn my hair any differently.  With the exception of the spiral perm days and when feathered wings were popular, neither of which are a good look if we're being honest.

Now instead of bangs that curl downward-ish, the bangs sweep to the left and the right kind of does whatever it wants to.  Sometimes it's really good and sometimes it isn't.  This is just the state of my hair and my patience on any given day.

Now I have to figure out how to not have our friend cut my hair anymore.  She still cuts Kevin's hair and does a good job with him, just no longer me.  I usually go with him because it's a Let's Do Errands and Have Lunch kind of thing.  This is awkward, super awkward.  I can use the excuse that I had someone else cut my hair for my brother's wedding but that will only last for a while.

We're friends on the facebook so she probably won't believe Kevin if he told her I'd been abducted by aliens.

Ithaka - April National Poetry Month

Ithaka

BY C. P. CAVAFY

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND KEELEY

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

A Day of Memes

In case you're wondering what is happening in Surely's world, here is the perfect example of how life is going:

I chose not to get gas yesterday on the way home for no other reason that I can't want to.  Which made me think of this meme:



This morning I struggled to get ready for work because reasons so I wasn't exactly on time, even for my late start time. (my schedule flexes, thank baby jesus)

I discovered as I was leaving that it froze overnight.  It is April in five days for the love of dawg.  So I had to wait while it defrosted. I hate leather seats, in case you were wondering.

Then the fuel monitor light came on because I continually make good choices.  Okay, fine. Whatever Universe, I'd like to say Lesson Learned but it's not good to lie.

The gas station is less than two miles from my house so no problem.  And I'll get a coffee from there at the same time and not stop at my usual place.  I'm actually saving time now.

Which made me think of this meme:



This was great right up until the gas station is closed.  CLOSED.  Good Morning Karma, how are you today?

The next gas station is 2.5 miles away.  Now I'm doing math and science, trying to figure out MPG and distance.  But really, I have no choice but to make a run for it.  Worse case I run out and my father-in-law will rescue me and I'll have to endure forever the mocking from my husband.

Which made me think of this meme that I just posted to my niece who is struggling a little bit right now:




I made it just fine and of course there is a coffee stand at this gas station also because Beautiful Pacific Northwest.  This stand is one I actually prefer but it's a little out of the way on a regular work day.  So I consider this a check in the win column.

I got out, prepared to pump gas, when I noticed a bright red sign.  (not at all observant in the mornings) "Card Reader Broken, Go into the Store to Pay"

Sonofabiscuiteatingdog.  I'm so not going into the store.  There are people there. 

Luckily...although nothing is feeling lucky right now...the pump next to it is in working order and open.  I flipped around and pumped my gas.  This has now reached comical proportions.

Next was the aforementioned coffee.  You have not experienced life until the barista knows your order and you just have to hand them your card. 

Or just coffee and chaos

Off to work I go, for reals.  I realized about one mile into the 60 mph zone that I'm still doing 70.  I was coming up to an on-ramp so I glanced for Mr. Friendly Patrolman.  There was not one, even though I fully expected one this particular morning. But there was a former boyfriend's work truck beginning to merge onto the freeway.  Because the Universe has a sense of humor.

Now I'm finally at work and it has been a goat rodeo all morning. My coffee is still half-full and that's just a crying shame right there.

And that, my friends, is how life is in Surely World right now.

Happy International Women's Day

The Saturday Challenge

Sometimes I hate Saturday mornings and this is one of those mornings, for sure.  Two things: this is most definitely First World Problems and I'm dealing with my frustration by sitting here, whining. So, well done me.

It was a busy week, one that I would swear had an extra day in it.  It ended with my nephew showing up early at our house yesterday to work on our roof.  This made me leave work early (hooray) but not be able to go to the grocery store and wallyworld so that I didn't have to go into town today. (boo) The older I've gotten the more structure is important to me and it can get super frustrating when it's disrupted. 

Kevin works today so he was out of the house at 5:30 this morning.  A mature, reasonable adult would think "I have a ton to do today. I'm going to stay up and work on that."  That didn't happen.  Instead, Lucy and I returned to bed, with Grey's Anatomy set to play-all, and went back to sleep.

Bless Kevin's heart that he helps me be a grown-up.  When he works on Saturdays, he will phone or text about 8:45 to "check in."  What is really is is he saying "Get up or you're going to regret your choices"  Not in the controlling spouse way but in the "I don't want to hear you whining about how busy town was because you slept all day".   Somehow Lucy has also figured out that timeline and will want outside about that time.  They've conspired, I just know it.

I was in town at a reasonable hour  today, which was earlier than usual because there is a festival happening right now that leaves the Valley in gridlock, both in the cities and the freeway.  I was done before that nonsense began, including going to the wallyworld.

Once I got home though is when the frustration began.  Because yesterday didn't go as planned, laundry was piled up, which rarely happens.  I had five bags of groceries to put away, and all my Saturday housecleaning chores.  And a new microwave to install.  The sun is FINALLY out and it's NOT RAINING so I want to work in the garden.  But until the other chores are a least glanced at, I need to focus. 

(Yes, I finally checked off microwave off my list.  Because Kevin randomly gave ours to my niece who just got into her own apartment.  Thanks, pal?)

I have to employ a few tactics on days like this to thwart the ADD.
I have to do the grid system in order to complete a task. For instance, cleaning the kitchen: I put dishes away first and reload the dishwasher.  That's one appliance and one area now clean.  Then I can clean the sink.  Then I can clean the countertops.  This sounds childish but I can go from emptying the dishwasher to washing the cars while the rest of the kitchen still lays in ruin.  This sounds like not a big deal but I can snowball in the blink of an eye.

I also use the timer system, using the clothes washer.  ADD likes to race time.  I set a load going and that "gave" me 51 minutes to finish the kitchen and clean the bathrooms.  I don't know why this works, but it does.

Also along the lines of the grid system is the Escape Room.  I can't leave the room until the tasks in that room are finished.  Otherwise, say I take the grocery bags out to the truck because that's part of cleaning the kitchen. No, because my mind will decide that the cars need washing, even though as mentioned before, there are no less than three chores/projects already going inside the house.

Cleaning the bathroom I will always forget the glass cleaner.  So I'll make a list before I leave the room to get it: Glass cleaner, broom, trash. A way to keep focused on what I'm doing and what is the next step. Kind of like the classic Sesame Street: a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter. Huh, that's where I probably learned that.  Way to go, Sesame Street! (OMG, google "Sesame Street going shopping" EPIC wormhole. You're welcome)  Anyway, even though I keep bathroom specific cleaners in the said bathroom, I never remember to get an extra glass cleaner or to grab it on the first try.  Meanwhile, despite nonsensical chanting, I'll notice the glass topped end tables need a quick swipe before I finish the bathroom and suddenly I'm two episodes deep into Grey's Anatomy and the bathroom still has all the lights on, the radio playing, sometimes even the shower running.

It's just one of those mornings where everything needs addressing and it feels like it's never going to get done. *stomping of feet and throwing of head*  This is why I live in structure and organization.

Meanwhile, look at the pretty new microwave:

(This unpublished post is almost exactly one-year-old.  One of the distractions from the challenge turns out to be a fail also.  *high five*)

"Just To Look Around"

In this weekend's episode of HGTV...

Remember way back when two weekends ago when we bought the fireplace and it had the wrong finish?  Well, our solution to that was a brand new pellet stove.

Kevin has wanted a pellet stove since we moved in but I was hesitant.  It's a small house and brand-new so I wasn't super excited about it.  Then about a year later Kevin's parents moved up with us and we inherited a heirloom china hutch with heirloom china.  It went in the only place we could put a pellet stove so: all done. *brushing of hands*

The topic came up from time to time and I just would gesture to the giant china hutch. (corner styled, over 7 feet all, four feet wide, full of heirloom china)  Kevin one time lost his mind and suggested it could go in my office.   So, again: all done.

Finally, we...I...came to the realization that the furnace is going to be aging out soonish. Coincidentally, Kevin had been researching buying used pellet stoves.  We came to the agreement that we would not spend a bazillion dollars on a new one and if we found a used one on the lesser side, we would do it.

First we headed north, thinking that would be our best bet. Two stores and one lunch later, we decided to head into the other, south, county "just to look around".  Icy and snowy roads will not thwart this ill-conceived decision.

We went to one store and they only had fancy stoves that were way too big for our house. Oh, that's also part of the problem: we have a tiny house so finding a stove that won't require us to have the windows open in February is a challenge.

Even though we had already been to the store in the other town, we went to the store again "just in case."  If you're wondering: "Just to look around" and "just in case" is how we have ended up with dogs and vehicles that we didn't intend.  That's why the quotation marks and yes, maybe a little sarcasm.

This store did have pellet stoves that were the size we needed and they were on supery-dupery sale.  50% off.  Actually, there was only ONE left that was what we needed.  Now we've wandered into "We're stupid not to do this." territory.

We bought it and the kit but still had to return to the other store to pick up another piece.  Then we finally headed home and it's 3:00 in the afternoon. We started at 10:00.  We still have to buy pellets and the accoutrements for keeping it maintained.

It took three men and a dog  to unload the damn thing.  (Lucy was in supervisory capacity, in case you were wondering)  While they were doing the unloading and carrying, I was hurriedly and not a little panicky, emptying the giant china cupboard.

Pause:
The mom-in-law was worried that the china hutch wouldn't stay in the family.  It was hand built by my father-in-law and I totally understand.  But we don't have space to store it.  So a quick survey of nearby family members was conducted.   Kevin thought to ask the Nephew and to my surprise, he said YES!!!  Otherwise, it was going to get shipped out-of-state to cousins.

Now we're loading the giant cupboard into the back of the truck and going back into town.  Again, it's in the teens and snow on the ground so it was a DO IT NOW situation. Now Difficulty Level Increased: it was getting dark.  We unloaded it at the Nephew's, had a little visit, then realized that we had forgotten about dinner.  I would like to say that this is unusual for us but that would be a lie.

By the time we returned home, it was 8:00 and we were both just done.  But I had heirloom dishes that had to be dealt with.  It turns out that Kevin's mom would like to have some of them at her house. (sigh...on many levels)  It is a very tiny house (ours is 1100 square feet, theirs is 400)  and I'm skeptical but I boxed up some stuff.

I got into Jedi Mind Meld and chose some dishes for her.  Then I took stuff that I knew wasn't super valuable/important and put them in cupboards where I keep vases, etc.  I put a set of china that Kevin likes, that I don't, into our china hutch and now I'm stuck with a bunch of stuff that I have to find homes for.

Mickey Mouse cookie jar plays a song when you open it.  Hurricane lamps and candle holders are 100+ years old. Gnome is actually mine, he was relocated while painting. 

Oh, the fireplace?  It's totally going into our bedroom even though it doesn't quite fit so it's fate is yet to be decided. But it does match that furniture; especially if the dresser that has been on back-order for over two weeks ever arrives.

Lucy being Vanna...no, not really. She just came in and wanted treats.
Ignore the schmutz on the table.  So much stuff going on and I missed it. I could retake the photo but then Lucy wouldn't be in it and we can't have that.

Now the painting.  I'm never going to be done painting!  The wall where the giant cupboard lived desperately needs painting and a smart person would have done it prior to the installation of the stove but as you've surmised: we don't plan ahead. Like, ever.  And it's on a wall with a vaulted ceiling so I have to employ Kevin and his long legs.

However, because I continually make good choices, I did spend my last snow day painting one of the living room walls.  After much debate and me handing the paint color cards to Kevin and saying "What color do you hate?", we chose...wait for it...you'll probably guess...mocha.

I had about one fourth of the wall done and was so, so, so regretting my choices.  Like, nearly a panic attack regretting my choices.  But I persevered because changing my mind at that point wasn't an option. People will notice a half-painted brown wall.

In the end, I like it.  Kevin likes it.  Now I'm obsessing if I want to do any of the other walls that color. I fear it will be too much but I'm still pondering.

The hutch is the one built for me by my father-in-law. It is nearly half the size of the banished one.

One more thing: we were supposed to have a refrigerator delivered but the over one foot of snow on the ground delayed that one week.  I'm equally disappointed and relieved.  I don't know that I can take much more.

But I can.  Skip ahead a few more days with me.

When we were looking for a different dining table, because fireplace, I had spotted a bed frame that I liked.  It was in the north county and it snowed right after I found it so I didn't act on it.  Also, I didn't want to add another project to the already ongoing projects.

Except I did.  Two weeks later and the ad was still there.  I emailed them and it was still available. As luck would have it, Kevin was getting a haircut on Saturday and it was nearby.  The fates have spoken.  Like the table and the stove, it was $75 and we would be stupid to pass it up.

Now we spent Saturday evening (after visiting Kevin's mom in the hospital because OF COURSE) taking our bedroom apart.  I've mentioned before our bed was an old waterbed frame from the 80's.  I didn't mind it so much but it was super dated. And BIG.  And dark.  It's in our backyard, waiting it's fate in the burn pile.  (Yes, it does make me a little sad. Thanks for asking)

Now I'm wondering if I could paint the wall behind the bed the same mocha color.  Strangely, in the craigslist ad photos the wall color is very similar.  It is a Queen Anne Victorian iron bed.  The home we bought it from was a million dollar home so we can assume it wasn't a wallyworld, cheap bed frame. They were downsizing so that's why it was so cheap.

Fireplace will probably move to the left wall but isn't it lovely?

And, the dresser still hasn't arrived. Rumor has it that I can go pick it up tomorrow.  The refrigerator is scheduled to be here on Thursday but our driveway is nearly impassable so I'm not holding my breath.

Today is President's Day so I'm home.  I had a list of errands and tasks that I was going to do.  I woke up this morning in our cool new bed and thought "Nope. Nope to all of that."  Writing this bloggity is the most productive thing I've done all day.

And Kevin has asked me to stay off of Craigslist and OfferUp.  Fair enough.

Happy Valentine's Day

A Musical Journey

Quite a while ago, Swistle wondered what kind of music the elderly would like to listen to.  Like, if you're in your 70's, what do you listen to?  How does your music taste change or not change as you age?

My mind has been puzzling with this query since she asked it.  I really started thinking about it after the very big birthday in December.  And right now when I have a *snow day* and I have MTV Classic playing "I Want My 80's"  I'm in a reminiscing time warp right now. Perfect for this pondering.

Here's what I've surmised and there are a few takes:

I think a person tends to stick with the decade of time that was the most formative.  So, in my case: it's the late 80's.  In Kevin's case, it's the late 70's/early 80's because: age difference.  My guess would be for most folks it would be generally in your late teens.

My dad listened to 40's music and sometimes earlier music.  He graduated high school in 1952 so that math kind of plays out.  Kevin's mom lights up when Elvis plays and his dad will sing any old Country song like he's at the Grand Old Opry.

Here's what's fun though:  Reactions to the songs are different now.  There are songs I used to like that now I think "I could live the Rest of My Life without hearing this song again."   There are songs that I hated back then that I like now.  (Bust A Move, which happens to be playing right now)  I can see how Madonna changed music as a whole now but I just found her kind of annoying back in the day.  

When I was little, my brother returned from a tour in the Army.  He brought home one of those giant stereo systems that were becoming a thing back then.  It had noise cancelling headphones and I would lay in front of that system for hours wearing them.  (hello traumatic childhood coping mechanism)

REO Speedwagon was just becoming huge and I loved that album. I would play it over and over.
Take It On the Run was super popular when Kevin was in his formative music time.  The lyrics to that song were super pertinent to him because his then-wife was like that song.  I just loved the song because I did, but for him it was a whole other meaning.

Songs tend to lose their power over time, I think.  It's like a scar or a bruise. There are a handful of songs that I would launch across a room or car to skip and now I'm more meh about them.  Oh, I still have one or two that will gut me but mostly the teen-aged angst associated with songs are gone.

One more thing, slightly to the left of the topic:

I grew up when the debate for parent advisory labels was a big debate.  At the time I didn't care because I didn't have parenting that labels would affect at all. Friends of mine wouldn't be able to buy certain things because of a label though but I would have just bought it for them so it was a non-issue to me.  

I will say that I didn't like any sort of curbing of free speech, even at that young of age. However, now I can see how parents must have thought we were all going to hell in a heavy metal handbasket.  Also, it makes me wonder because the music has gone so far past what folks were worried about Back Then.  Did the labels work? or make it worse?  If I were a parent, would I monitor my kids music? (I don't think I would but it's only a guess)

Everything changes, music often reflects that. Rap/Hip-Hop didn't exist until I was in my late teens. Heavy metal didn't exist for my parents. Rock and Roll didn't exist for my grandparents.

Finally, tastes change.  I grew up in Rednecklandia so it was all Bocephus and country music then. I hated it.  HATED. IT. It just represented everything that I wanted to get away from. Fast forward too many years and country is mostly what I listen to now.  It has to be acknowledged, though, that country music now is more like pop music of the 80's and not all twangy my dog died, my girlfriend stole my truck and my house blew away.    

So after all that, I posit that a person might tend to listen to music from then they were young. Nostalgically perhaps.  Comfort, maybe.  But music is fluid and reflective throughout time so of course, tastes will change.

Unless you were my dad.

(and the title is an unintended pun...)

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie - HGTV Edition

On this episode of HGTV...

For few months now I've been...we've been...rehabbing this house a bit.  It's thirteen years old so it  is due for a makeover.  It is a teenager, after all.

We redid the floors in 2014 and swore we would never do that again.  OMG such a huge job to empty the entire house then reload the entire house, in one day because we set easily achievable goals. (and/or we live in the Pacific Northwest where you don't leave stuff outside overnight unless you like your property damp)

Sidebar:  When I was painting, Kevin was a little worried for the carpet and rightfully so because I have the attention span of a small child.  "Do you want to do the carpets again?", he asked.
"No because that suuuuuccckkkeeddd."
He knows how to motivate me.

Now I've painted both bathrooms, the kitchen, 90% of the mudroom, and the entryway.  Truth be told, I should be painting right now but I just don't have it in me, yet.

It's that old adage of "If you paint, then you'll need new floors, then drapes..."  Paint one wall and the one next to it is yelling at you that it needs painting too because OMG Look.

We put in new mirrors in the bathrooms, courtesy of BFF K and Kevin for my birthday/Christmas. which meant I had to paint in the bathrooms AGAIN because removing the old huge mirrors uncovered unpainted walls.  Sigh.  But it's beautiful now so worth it.

I had chosen easy install adhesive tile for the bathroom, prior to the mirror thing.  Wouldn't you know it but the tile didn't match anymore once the mirrors were up and the walls painted.  It's a good thing because Kevin was about as excited about grout as he was with me painting anywhere near the carpet.

I searched the amazon and found cheap adhesive faux tile and it is perfect. Kevin was skeptical that it would look cheesy but once he got it in, he was good with it.  So, master bathroom is complete.
But that faux tile doesn't match the common folk bathroom because, really, why would it?

I've yet to solve that puzzle because I keep dithering over whether or not I want to go mainstream or funky.  Kevin's taste is more conservative but in the end, is just happy if I'm happy so the pressure is on me.  I'm totally going to wuss out and do mainstream but it's fun to think about.

Photo from Amazon. This is the grownup choice

Photo from Amazon. This is the fun choice

So, yesterday.  I don't even remember why this was a thing yesterday but replacing our giant dining table came up in conversation.  Kevin said to look on OfferUp.  Yeah, that was a super dangerous idea. I found one in about five minutes for $25, marked down from original $100.

Now, to be fair, Kevin was already going somewhere today for truck parts.  But now we had to get up early (for me) to pick up this table.  We left, had breakfast in the town that the table was, woke up the owners of the table, then headed another 20 minutes south for Kevin's thing.  Then it began snowing. I love snow but not when we have furniture in the back of the truck.

Wait, I skipped a part.  I remember why the dining table was a thing!!  We bought a fireplace.  Because we shouldn't be in charge of our own lives.  It was on clearance and it replaces the heater style one we bought in a panic after being out of power for three days that Lucy loves and we don't.

Kevin assembled/installed the fireplace last night.  At first, we thought we had to move the dining table to make room but then we figured out something else.  And we already committed to getting the table. So here we are with a new-to-us oak table.

And we bought the wrong finish fireplace but we are Living with Our Choices.

I realized this morning, that painting the living room is next on the docket because that will solve the wrong color fireplace thing.  This requires choosing an actual color so here we are: me writing about it  instead of doing it.  President's Day is coming up, I will set that as a goal-ish.

Gratuitous puppy photo.Or: New table featuring walls that need painting 

Goodbye Superhero

http://alaska.guardianflight.com/

We lost a friend on Wednesday.  If ever there was a real-life superhero, it was Stacie. 

We met her when she was a barista in high school. She ended up being the manager, because, of course she did.  She made the best coffee ever (sorry other barista friends)  and started the tradition of giving Kevin a pink straw in his drink that is still happening years later.

She decided to be a RN, working full-time and on an accelerated schedule.  She never did things slowly. It's like she knew she didn't have time.  She accomplished that goal but it wasn't enough: she became an ER Nurse then Trauma Nurse then achieved her ultimate goal: Med Flight Nurse in Alaska.

We experienced her as a nurse with Kevin's mom right before she left for Alaska and it was clear that it was absolutely what she was meant to be.  She had to fight in her life, nothing seemed to come easy, and it just made her stronger.  Thus the perfect person for taking care of those fighting.

To quote her fiance: She died doing what she absolutely loved. 

She is on the insta as FlightNurseStacie.  Check out what a badass she is.  We say her name so she isn't forgotten. 

Godspeed Stacie and your tiny baby girl. 

A Rant, then Recultivate

Friends IRL may have noticed that I have taken a little break from social media.  Mostly from the facebook because it's depressing to learn and continually experience that friends and family are racists and willfully ignorant.

I define willfully ignorant as someone who blindly accepts facts as truth, no matter the source.  i.e. "my coworker said"  "I read it on Twitter" or Fox "news".
Take some responsibility and confirm something is true before spreading it around.  It takes less than a minute to google something.

And the racist thing, well, that just sucks because there isn't a cure for that other than intolerance.  Which is difficult to do when it's family members or friends you thought you knew.

There are many worst parts for the past few years but for me the worst part is discovering which friends/family have these beliefs.  It's disappointing and exhausting and leaves me feeling powerless.

Because all I want to do is hit comment and point out that it is a lie or state how disappointed I am.  But that is a can of worms that I do not want.  Instead I will like the snot out of posts that I do agree with, knowing that they'll possibly pop up on others feeds. It's passive aggressive but it makes me feel a little better.

And sometimes I will post something and know that there may be blowback.  My plan in that case is to not feed that monster and ignore any comments.  Luckily, I've not had that happen in quite a while.

There used to be decorum but that is a social skill that has passed, it seems.  Because of my beliefs, I have been referred to as a libtard, been "pwned", and all kinds of things.  To add to the frustration, most of these folks would never say it to my face but giddily do it on social media.  I've never hidden nor shouted my beliefs but it's not difficult to know who I am so it's difficult not to take it personally.  (side-eye at close family members)

Like I've said before, this isn't a simple disagreement about the death penalty or abortion.  These are disagreements over fundamentals like every one is equal and free and taking care of the poor and the weak, and basically: don't be an asshole.
These are things that in my 50 years of life I would have never guessed would be a thing.

ANYWAY...

Instead I post puppy photos and family photos.  I repost memes.  I don't deep dive like I used to.  The only downfall of this is that I have missed stuff occasionally.  Then I think: we didn't use to have facebook and it was okay, we all survived.

My former sister-in-law lamented that there was nothing good on the facebook anymore so I suggested to recultivate her feed.  I recommended some pages for her to follow so she sees positivity instead of the utter shitshow that is our government and social media right now.

Here is the list:

 Word Porn, Love What Matters, Purple Clover, Goodwill Librarian. For Reading Addicts, The Idealist, PostSecret, Cup of Jane, Uplift Connect, Bookish Buzz, Humans of Tumblr, Humans of New York, Ann Moore (no relation at all) Calvin and Hobbes, Snoopy , The Bloggess!!! 

I also follow dog pages like Crusoe the Celebrity Dachshund, Dog Feelings and Dog Rates.  My f-s-i-l is a cat person so they weren't on the original list.

Follow authors or performers that you like.  I only do that if they post content other than upcoming performances/appearances though.  That one can be tricky.

Follow your state/province. For example, I follow Washington State History Museum, local town(s) history, and Only in Washington.  I'm a nerd so I realize this might not be interesting to everyone.

Of course, I follow car stuff.  Follow your hobby.

My twitter feed is different because I use it differently.  However, I do follow writers, comedians, pundits, and friends.  I try to retweet the funny, the poignant, the important on that platform.  (Firegirl03)

My point, other than the rant, is that social media is what you make it.  It can be super negative or super positive.  And VERIFY for eff sakes before reposting.  #morepuppyphotos

Pretty Paper

(This was supposed to post before the New Year but didn't.                                                       So apologies for the out-of-sync posts that you probably didn't notice but I did)

Two unrelated wrapping stories:

I made the mistake of asking where the Christmas wrapping was at my mother's house. First, she looked at me slightly aghast that I didn't know, which really is a shock taken that I haven't lived there for thirty years. For all of my childhood, it was stored in a Montgomery Ward wardrobe box under their bed.  I also assumed that she would have some out because it was Christmas.

She said in the laundry room, next to the freezer.  Then proceeded to show me because she's my mother. To be more specific, it was in the closet portion of the built-in wardrobe, that was once my brothers room, and now converted into the aforementioned laundry room. Simple.

And the door only opens about five inches because: literally next to the freezer.

I reached in and grabbed the first roll my fingers landed on.  It was brittle but still new Christmas paper that I suspect was as old as I was.  It was taped down instead of cellaphane. It was not glossy like paper is now.  There was a little time whiplash upon seeing it.

Now I'm obsessed with what else is in that closet.  It will be one of those archaeological digs that will occur when it's time to close that house so it will be a while before I find out.

Then, there's Kevin's parents.  Every year for ten years I say "Do NOT buy Christmas wrapping. I have plenty of YOURS here at the house."  Every.Year.

Every.Year. they buy paper and I store it.  I even band it together to keep it separate even though it's obvious which is there's because she buys odd wrapping  that I would never buy.

This year I said "The wrapping paper is behind the door of Lucy's room"  Take what you need because there's plenty.  That sounds simple, yes?

Oh, it wasn't.

About halfway through opening presents I noticed that some of my really nice birthday wrapping paper was on the presents.  I was a little confused but let it go.  Then one of the boy littles said to his brother "Bro, that looks like girl paper."

It was metallic purple and pink paper.  Couldn't be less Christmas-y paper if it tried.

SOMEHOW, my father-in-law came into the office, ignored the rolls of paper behind the door, and got into Monica's closet, which requires moving a rocking chair.  He then unearthed, on the top shelf, our box of regular wrapping paper.

AND THEN DIDN'T THINK ANYTHING WAS STRANGE about baby shower, wedding shower, children's birthdays wrapping paper.

OR, did they think to themselves "Gosh, Surely is stingy with wrapping paper."

OR  "This seems odd, maybe we have the wrong paper"

OR "Let's call Surely, who lives twenty-five feet away, and double-check.

So, now everyone's presents are going to be wrapped in Christmas paper. I don't care if your birthday is in August, you're getting freaking SNOWMAN paper because it's all I have now.

TEAL Santa paper, who buys that?  NOT ME

It's Been One Week...

Today is January 2 and I've accomplished very little.  (it's not now but it was when I started)

There hasn't been a consistent schedule in this house since December 19th and I can *feel* it.  Even Kevin complained a little yesterday about feeling a little off.  We are a Need Structure pair.

There is a To - Do list on my phone for these last three weekdays of Winter Break.  Some of them are easy, like set a doctor appointment, and some are difficult, like paint the laundry room.  I've accomplished not one single thing and it's after 1:00 p.m.

This kind of procrastination isn't unusual for me.  Although, I am taking today as more of a mental health day than a lazy day.  And I completely understand that I will be frustrated with myself tomorrow or Friday for squandering this time.  But this is the first day that I've been alone in four days and I can feel it.

I will gladly admit that our Christmas Tree is still up and decorated.  Kevin would like to have it down the day after Christmas but I usually wait until closer to the New Year.  This is the latest it has been up, for sure.

It's still smells really good, it's not dropping needles, and it still makes me happy to look at it.  I told Kevin that I'm going to add a day each time he asks if it's still up.  He just asked so I get to wait until tomorrow.  Because I am a mature adult.

January 3rd...Today is Niece and Nephew's 10th anniversary and yesterday was Nephew's 34th birthday.  We are not talking about how big those numbers are and the correlation with a birthday I had last month.  Nope, we are not.

I relented and took down the tree.  What's funny to me, although he probably wouldn't admit it, is that Kevin didn't ask about the tree yesterday.  Technically, I won.

Every year for elebenty years, I forget what a process that is.  And sad.  It actually makes me sad.  Like Phoebe on Friends, I apologized to the tree and thanked it for being such a beautiful tree.  Yes, I'm crazy and probably been home a little too long.

So, that took most of the afternoon.  Because it's not just removing ornaments and you're done.  It's vacuuming and dusting and putting furniture back and Monica's closet to contend with.

Pro tip for the post holidays blues:  small white string lights.  I've left a few sets out with regular house stuff to ward off the darkness, both physical and metaphysical.

Now it is January 4th...  I did not have the aforementioned frustration with myself but I will say that I need a nap.

I stacked all my errands for today.  Groceries, Goodwill, car wash, donating magazines, post office, stuff.  Then of course Kevin invited me to lunch and needed something picked up.  I'm not complaining that my husband wanted to go to lunch, I'm complaining that it is a half an hour south of where I was and opposite of home.

But I'm home now and all I have left on my list is painting the laundry room.  It's 3:15 so I'm going to go with a hard No on that one.  Plus it's Friday, one doesn't start painting on a Friday. That is silly talk right there.

If you got the Bare Naked Ladies reference from the title, *fist bump*