I Broke The House

 Kevin is gone all weekend, working on a project.  I thought I would just have a relaxing weekend, with nothing big planned.  Maybe paint, maybe not.  Watch a movie, read. 

With that, I usually do all my chores (housework) on Fridays so I have the weekend to do whatever.  Because Kevin was going to be gone, and frankly I just didn't have the energy, I skipped it.  I figured I'd do it over the weekend.

With that and because of the alphabet brain, this isn't a big deal. Most people would never notice that I had skipped chores.  Well, I had also let the laundry pile up a bit.  This is very unusual because after having no power for four days years ago, my PTSD will not allow it.  Except for this weekend.

And the universe laughed at me.  Silly mortal.

Now let's add that I can't get the bathroom sink to clear. I've tried everything, Kevin has tried, and no.  I did manage to get it to flow better then it stopped.  I have time on my hands, I will try again I thought.  I started the laundry and went to work under the sink.

This requires a towel because no matter how careful I am, there's always water.  I had a hand towel and an old bath towel down.  Upon taking everything apart and cleaning it with the little tool, nothing was improved.  I put everything back and it was WORSE.  Wtaf.   I decided I would leave it and Kevin could look at it tomorrow. Clearly, I had put something back together incorrectly or something.

Then I checked on the laundry.  Nope.  The washer stopped.  Of course it did.  It threw a code so I searched it and it said the drain was blocked.  Now this has become a Kevin problem. The interwebs assured me that this wasn't a big deal. The interwebs lies.

About 6:00 Kevin phoned and said he was on his way and apologized that it took so long.  "What's happening there?" he asked.  9/10 times the answer is "nothing".  Today was "Well, it appears I have broken the house. I can't unclog the sink and now it won't drain and the washer stopped working."

He immediately went to 1,000 because all he heard was two things weren't draining.  I assured him that it wasn't a drain issue, it was a coincidence.  All the while, hoping it was indeed, a coincidence.  But the other sinks drained, the tub, the toilets.  It wasn't a drain issue.

I'm bailing out the washer and throwing soaking towels into the tub when he came home.  "I'm going to fix the sink..." he said.  I stood there like...wut?  But okay.  I realized that he needed to make sure that we didn't need a plumber because our plumbing was broken.  Because that is exactly how this year has gone for us.

He took apart a piece that I hadn't that was near the floor of the cabinet.  And...retch.  There was the plug.  I offered to switch him places because I don't ick out as badly as he does.  Also, that meant he would go look at the washer, which was more important to me.  

He has a thing about "letting" girls do gross jobs.  Even though I know he'd rather go to the dentist than clear that clog, he told me no.  I wasn't disappointed.  I went back to bailing and wringing towels.  

Once he fixed the sink, he came out to look at the washer.  I showed him the google search and he went to work.  He pulled out the washer then jumped behind it.  He took off the back of the washer and...it looked nothing like the internet said it would.  

One of his best friends used to work at Sears when it was still a thing.  He reluctantly called him and asked for help. To my relief, he said to do the same thing that the interwebs did.  He also suggested (literally) unplugging it and plugging it back in.  I had already done that.  Twice.  He had Kevin check one more thing then asked us to run it on a different cycle then let him know if it helped.  We did and...nope.  Then we got the "It's probably more expensive to repair than to just replace it."  I flipped him off but said "Thanks for your help!"  (remember, he's on the phone)

It feels like Kevin asked simultaneously "How much does a washer cost?" and "I hate to ask but what are you thinking about dinner?"   Sensing a shift in the ether, he said "I don't care, you can make eggs. Cereal. I'm going to go shower..."

I cleaned up the mess in the mud room as best as I could with a broken washer in the middle of it. Then started dinner and tried not to swirl the metaphorical drain myself.   Kevin came out from the shower and said that his friend wanted him to check one more thing.  Back behind the washer he goes, we try it, it doesn't work, and now the washer is full of water again.  

I returned to making dinner and Kevin went out to his shop.  He came back with buckets and asked for help.  I started to gesture toward dinner like "DO YOU SEE THIS" but refrained because it's not his fault for trying to help when I had broken everything in the house. #melodrama

We took out ten gallons of water then called it a night.  We ate dinner then I got onto the interwebs again to search for washers.  No one keeps appliances in stock now, in case you're wondering.  I checked a local store and while they were closed, the site said they had them in stock.  Fantastic.  When do they open?  11:00 am.  Sigh.  But at least they had one and it wasn't terribly expensive.  

KEvin offered to phone the siblings to see if they would let us do two loads of laundry.  I said no, because if one thing went wrong it would be my fault FOREVER.  He tried to deny that but then just couldn't.  "We'll save that until tomorrow" he says.  Answer will still be no tomorrow, Kev.

Finally we went to bed and Kevin was almost immediately asleep.  Love that for him.  My brain is trying to find  traction, what can I do in the morning to be ready for this.  Is there anything else we can do.  Certainly, this isn't a new problem.

Certainly.This.Isn't.A.New.Problem.

I realized that I can hand wash clothing.  It's been done for centuries.  While not fun and not even in my Top 100 Ways I Like  to Spend My Time, it was better than what-felt-like a disaster I had on my hands. It's 11:00 pm and I'm googling "How to wash laundry without a washer."  You know, just in case there were new developments since the 1700's.  There wasn't but at least I felt like I had a plan.  I went to sleep thinking how I could prioritize what needed washing, what could go next door if I chose to ask, and what could wait.  It is super fun living in my brain.

Oh and this is where I also realized that there shouldn't be that much water in the wash and perhaps it wasn't just a drain issue.  #causeandeffect

Kevin left the next morning at 6:30. I woke up momentarily but thankfully fell back asleep.  About an hour later, my  alphabet brain started yelling at me about laundry.  I got up, made coffee, and contemplated My Plan.  Once coffee was started, I emptied a tote and let it start to fill with soapy water. I had to deal with the wet  towels from the night before first.  In they went into the soapy water for 30 minutes. I took my coffee, a brownie, and the dog and went back to bed.  I turned on NCIS so I wouldn't get caught up in a movie and distracted. 

Wet towels are the worst to wring out. The worst.  This is where I explain that my preference in towels tends toward a cozy rug.  I want them thick and heavy.  Kevin tends toward "This is the towel I had when I moved out of the house when I was 18."  One by one, I took the towels out of the soapy water, wrung them the best I could, carried them to the kitchen sink, then rinsed them.  

My hands hurt, I don't think I have fingerprints anymore, and that was really hard work.  At one point, I said aloud "This is the WORST" then laughed at my own self.  Trying to balance karma immediately,  I said "No, no, this is bad but it's not the worst.  There are many worst things."

I did the best I could then put them in the dryer.  I was a little worried that they weren't wrung enough and I was right.  It took forever for them to dry. And it caused a little catastrophasing of "Now the dryer is broken."  Eventually they dried and I could see and feel where perhaps the washing machine had been not working well for a while.

Next I did the "easy" clothes: socks, underwear, yoga pants, tshirts.  This went much easier but wringing them still made me wish for one of those old-fashioned wringers that essentially strangled all the water out of the clothes.  Finally the dryer finished the towels, I started the color clothes then tried to psych myself up for more towels.

I realized that I didn't need towels, per se. I needed wash cloths and hand towels.  My first instinct was "They sell those at the store every day" then I tempered that with "Well, that applies for every single item I'm washing so..."  I washed just the hand towels and wash cloths.  

The store texted me to confirm that the washer I wanted was in store.  I replied "I will be there in an hour."  Then he clarified: "Do you want top load or front load?"  I answered "Top load, preferably but beggars cannot be choosers."  They had both and they were waiting for me.

I showered, feeling bad about creating More Laundry,  and loaded up Lucy.  I phoned Kevin to let him know and he was relieved as well.  I bought the washer after a little debate and went to pick it up.  This is how I had to get it:

Thank the universe for the back-up camera and 
a husband who drove dump truck teaching me
how to back up

Okay, so now that was done.  I began to pull out of the loading dock when I saw that I missed a call.  I assumed it was going to be Kevin.  It was not.  It was my father-in-law.  I was immediately curious because the siblings are home.  I phoned him and he asked if we still had his hand truck.  Weird.  "Yeah, it's in your old shed."  He asked if we could bring it to him when I got home.  Puzzled still, I said Yeah but what are you moving?"  He stopped then tried to verbalize but his cognitive delays wouldn't allow him to form the thought.  Somehow the universe whispered in my ear.  "Did you mean Mom's WALKER?"  Relieved, he said yes.  Well, it's kind of a hand truck, for people.  

About THAT: the doctor told him that fall prevention is A PRIORITY.  He cannot fall and remain living.  So, in answer to that he just about fell outside this morning while I was gone.  The siblings yelled at him and this was him being contrite.  

Now I'm home, hoping it doesn't rain before Kevin gets home.  In the olden days, my father-in-law would have this done by the time Kevin got home but this is where we are now.  The last load of hand-washing is in the dryer.  All that remains is still more bath towels, jeans and bedding.  

And I'm still not sure that the dryer isn't dying.

Five Minutes Peace - The Latest Edition of Raising Parents

I remember a thousand years ago when my best friend had all-the-kids under grade school age and was a stay-at-home mom.  The book Five Minutes Peace was new...maybe? popular, probably at the time.  I sent it to her as gift of support.

I think about that book often, not as in I-gave-it-as-a-gift but like I do with If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.  My life is often If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.  I realized today that it has also become Five Minutes Peace.

A new stove is to be delivered sometime this afternoon. That is another whole story but try to focus.  

I had four errands to run, not including walkies for Lucy.  I started early, after working all morning so that I was home well in time for said delivery. They weren't difficult errands: recycling, buying dog food, dropping off goodwill donations and recycling grocery bags.  All in and out, quick.  

My phone rang when I'm less than one minute away from recycling, my first stop.  I had been gone fifteen minutes.  It's my father-in-law.  Like always, it's a scenic tour to the point.  Two things happened: he managed to get two flu shots in one week and he fell.  Which happened first? unclear for a minute.  

I'm getting that frustrated kind of tired where you're teary.  I'm thinking "I can drop recycling and go right back home. That will be twenty minutes at the most. I can call the ambulance..."

Then I get to the "I fell last night after dinner" part.  Okay, heart rate: return to normal. Brain, you can also just relax. Everyone stand down.

There were two separate incidents, unrelated perhaps, and the reason he phoned was he needed to know Which Shot He Still Needed.  He was certain he had three flu shots.  (spoiler alert: he didn't)

For effs sake.

I clarified which shots he's had in the past two months and said I would work on this when I got home.  He was satisfied with this answer then said he was really sore and how sister-in-law had to help him put on his socks.  Sigh.

I suggested that he could a) call the doctor b) go back to the chiropractor and/or c)  take some tylenol and rest.  He clarified again: he was sore from falling but maybe because he had all the flu shots.  I repeated his options and he chose to rest.  Okay, then.

Lucy and I went for walkies - in the rain because Fall in the PNW - and I texted my sister-in-law the update.  She just phoned me, it was too much to text.  He fell because he dropped a fork and ignored the siblings telling him to leave it.  Like a toddler - not sarcastic, literally like a toddler - he got his head over his feet and fell, unprotected.

This is where she shares that he hit his head.  WUT.

a) he didn't tell me this. He said his back hurt

2) he's 85, diabetic and on blood thinners.

c) they left him home alone and didn't tell anyone TO CHECK ON HIM FFS

ACK.  Now I'm back to considering returning home.  She said that she was confident he was fine and also said she would come home if she needed to and if I could check on him when I get home.

This is my life now.

Okay, so whatever, there's that.  I then phoned the pharmacy to clarify which shot he received on Friday.  They transferred me to the pharmacist who loves my f-i-l.  She explained that he got the flu and the Covid imm and how did he get two flu shots.  "Because I didn't phone you to clarify. I  thought he had it and indeed, he did not."

She says "Well, you're guaranteed a long life. You've fulfilled the fifth commandment and have honored your parents.   You will have a good long life."  

It's very sweet of her to say and I appreciate the support but the alphabet brain is scrambling for which commandment...it's not the right for not self-incrimination...and also: it feels like this whole thing is shortening my life. But it was nice of her to say.

I finished my errands, after two separate conversations with Kevin and return home.  I went downstairs to check on him and the door is locked. I can see that he's snoozing in his chair and their dumb dogs did not bark.  I backed away slowly and quietly and went back home.  

Then I thought "Well, maybe I should check because he hit his head" then the equally dark thought of "If it happened, it's already happened.  Possibly waking him up would be worse."  Yeah, that's effed up, I know.

I let my s-i-l know and checked with Kevin to make sure he agreed.  He did and so I started to work. 

About two hours later, my f-i-l phones.  He asked if the stove has been delivered yet then announces that he is getting a Shingles shot on Sunday.  I wanted to say "Can we just calm down with the shots for a little while?" but instead I said "Great!"  

Then..because there's always something else...he says that he's going to the doctor tomorrow to see why he's falling "all the time".  I measured my words and said "My guess is she's going to tell you you're 85 years old"  He took that on the chin but was adamant that he was asking.  FINE.

But I absolutely emailed the doctor all of the above so she had the information ahead of time. Then debated whether or not I should just go.  Kevin said no and sister said no.  I'm not going. Yet.

So, let's back up two months ago when he fell just prior to leaving for California.  YES, a WHOLE OTHER STORY.  The doctor told him that he needed to start using a walker and he declined that.  He was polite about it but no.  I've since reminded him that Mom's walker is in our shed and we can bring it down. He says no.

It turns out that s-i-l still has the walker from hospice - they knew we'd need it - and she is putting it in his room tonight and having another "bone of contention" discussion.  1...2...3...NOT IT.  Although Kevin has intentions of having a conversation with him about this also.  I reminded him that we had this same conversation with his mom dozens of times and her life ended exactly has predicted: started with a fall and never recovered.  He said he wants to say it so he knows he's said it.  FINE.

But wait, I'm not done.  I haven't mentioned that I went to the doctor with him A WEEK AGO.  It was his annual exam and really wasn't that comprehensive or enlightening because he's 85 and he is in there all the time.

He did, however, fail his cognitive tests.  I wasn't surprised but I was also disheartened.  The doctor specifically asked who is handling his finances and decisions.  I explained that the family was and she was visibly relieved.  

Yet, she gave him a handicapped placard for this van.  I mean....wut.  (they had one, it was invalidated when mom passed)  He renews his license next month and we're equally hoping and dreading that he fails. 

On that day though, I spent forty minutes on the phone with Kevin in the grocery store parking lot rehashing everything that was said and recommended.  INCLUDING the fact that he is also having AUDITORY HALLUCINATIONS at night, most likely due to stress.  He's hearing church music/noises when he's alone and it's loud enough to drown the television noise.  The cure? up his anti-depressants and time.  Super.

It feels like I'm forgetting a big part of that doctor visit and I probably am. But nothing else will describe this situation better than "I just can't remember all of it; there's so much." Oh wait, I took notes on my phone...oh, of course: he arrived to that appointment with wet pants because he couldn't find a parking space and he refuses to wear much-needed diapers.  Yeah.

And keep in mind: he doesn't live with us. He lives next door and it's still this intense.  And, and, and, Kevin is going to have to tell all of them: "If you have complaints, talk to that person. Don't talk to us and then get frustrated that it isn't fixed."

So...yeah.  It's been a roller coaster this week.  It's Tuesday,

And my damn stove still isn't here.  It's officially six minutes past the delivery window.  Of course.

Oh, and I'm getting a new stove from my father-in-law as a thank you for helping so much over the last year(s).  It better also be able to tie my shoes and wash my truck.

Didn't Have That On the Bingo Card

 Well, because our life just can't be normal - like - ever, we have a cougar in the neighborhood.  No, not me but an actual cougar.

I get email alerts from the nextdoor app and most of the time they're annoying nonsense.  This time it was a post from really nearby: Cougar Sighting.  I clicked through and there had been multiple sightings.  Before I could talk to Kevin about it, our neighbor commented that she had heard it in the woods.  The woods behind our house.  So much for the neighborhood text chain, I guess.

We let the family know to watch the dogs and keep an eye out for anything.  Like always, the brother has suddenly seen/known something before us. "I saw one the other morning!" he reports.  I eyeroll because that's something you share with people.  Also, I can spot a liar at fifty feet.

A few nights later, I was out on the deck and heard something.  It sounds like a child scream.  There's only one little kiddo in the neighborhood and it was too late for him to be outside playing.  I texted the neighbor who reported hearing it and she confirmed that's what it sounded like. YIKES.

We've been keeping Lucy closer than usual and she has her rattle collar on her so it's guaranteed she will come when called. (old girl doesn't hear as well as she used to)  We go with her if it's dark and we keep an ear out for any noises.

The other night Kevin was out in the yard with her and he heard something in the woods.  He called me to come out to listen and the cat alerted.  It's a creepy sound, especially in the woods and in dark. (Click here to listen)  It startled an owl and it began to hoot in reaction.  This time, it sounded like it was down by the creek instead of behind us.  

AND THEN on Saturday Kevin came home from meeting his friends.  He was driving his car, which is a little loud.  He pulled it into his garage then stood outside the bay door, working on something.  He heard the cougar scream really really close by.  

He said he ducked into the garage, pulled the door down, then went to the entry door.  He listened and could hear something in the woods. He called out to his brother, who had also just gotten home, to see if it was him.  No answer.

Then he debated: stay in the garage or come to the house.  Realizing he couldn't stay the night in the garage, he bolted for the house.  

He spoke with our other neighbor and they reported that their dog - a giant, doofy Pyrenneese - had been barking at the woods all night, confirming that there was something out there.  (draw the bottom of a boat. The left upper part is one neighbor and they're by the main road. The upper right corner is the other neighbor and they're completely surrounded by woods and the last house on the road.  We are in the middle, with woods on one side and a ravine/woods on the other)

This morning I phoned Fish and Wildlife and they were surprisingly unconcerned.  If we had actually seen the cougar, then they would make a plan but because it's only auditory, we're on our own.  She did refer me to the website, specifically Living With Wildlife, with categories for which kind of wildlife you're experiencing.  (link, if you're curious)  She assured me that cougar attacks are unlikely and to just be careful.  That seems contradictory but here we are.

She suggested that we could get a game camera so we knew what/how close any animal may be.  That is a HARD PASS for me.  I am happy not knowing what's out there.  I mean, I assume and I intellectually know that there is plenty of wildlife out there.  I do not, however, need to specifically know if they're wandering around the house.

One of my favorite things is to step out onto the deck to look at the stars when there is a meteor shower, possible Northern Lights, or full moon.  It's well after Kevin and the dog have gone to sleep.  I always have the deck gates closed when I do this and listen for movement.  Now I'm hesitant to do even that and will probably take a break for while.

Our hope is that it will move on once it gets colder and the salmon spawning is done; which will be late November.

Live in the woods, they say, it's so peaceful they say.

Chicken Soup with Rice - October

 

Welcome, Fall

My Signature Color - It's Not What You Think

 Quite a while ago I realized that I didn't know what my friend's favorite color was.  I thought I had an idea but I was wrong. After some thought, their reply was "I don't really have one."  

This makes sense, I guess, because we're not seven years old anymore.  Also if you have a brain like mine, there would be categories: clothing? cars? interior design? flowers? There's too many colors to just, like, choose only one.

Then I realized that I really didn't have a favorite either.  For a long time as a child I said blue.  I don't know why other than the supposition that it was the favored color in the household I grew up in.  Then as a teen I would say black, partially because shock value but also I liked it.  

Honestly, my favorites really do depend on what the color is on.  I'm still a big fan of black.  There is a black house paint color that I love. I like black cars. My favorite hoodie is black. I wear black every day. But I don't like black fixtures or interior design. 

Years ago Kevin asked if I could wear an actual color other than black.  My compromise was purple because there are darker shades that are black-adjacent. Also, I like purple.  But it also wasn't a color I was particularly drawn to overall.  It was just a color that I chose to like.

When I redid our bedroom, I bought a bohemian quilt that is orange. Then I painted our closet orange. I realized that I started to gravitate toward orange. The living room curtains are bright, multicolored and featured orange. This spring when I bought all the flowers, I noticed that I liked orange flowers the most.  

I realized: omg, my favorite color is orange!  I like it on just about everything.  Well, not exterior house paint necessarily but overall I like it.  

Or...maybe I do...

My niece has bright orange Chuck Taylors that I love. Halloween decorations are second to Christmas. I bought myself an orange Yeti cup for my tea. My favorite dishes I inherited from my mother-in-law are orange carnival glass. My old work color was persimmon. If I think about it, orange is a theme in my life.

 Kevin is one of about three people who look good in orange.  He has to wear high visibility shirts/hoodie/jacket for work.  I've borrowed his hoodies before when I'm working outside or going on walkies on dark PNW days. This then triggered a memory from when I was really young.

My paternal grandma spoiled me while she was still alive.  She didn't have a lot so "spoiling" would be stuffies, trinkets, candy, clothes.  I was about five, I think, when she bought me a coat.  I remember I went on a car trip with her and she bought it. 

I loved it, because I chose it. I didn't have to wait for it because usually my clothes were purchased on lay-away (no judgement), and I didn't have to base my choice off of what my brothers were getting or what my mom wanted.

It was quilted, had white fur-ish collar and lining.  It was BRIGHT ORANGE.  Like really orange.  I loved it.  LOVED it.

Make this coat bright orange:

Like this. Combine these two coats. Make it a 4-T, probably 

Again, I loved this coat.  I was so excited to take it home.  It was in August and I wore it home in the car. (a Datsun station wagon, traveling from Eastern Washington back to Western Washington)

And...my mom hated it.  HATED IT.  I remember she was angry that my grandma bought it for me.  Because that is a reasonable reaction. *shaking my head* I don't remember why.   I just remember anger.  Maybe it was the color or it wasn't the right size or who even knows. I just remember anger.

The reason I tell you this horrible story is that's where I learned that Orange wasn't an acceptable color to be your favorite color.  So here I am fifty years later, saying Orange is my Favorite Color.

Time

 So, mother-effing depression leg-swept me for about two weeks.  SUPER FUN.

And no, I wondered this too: it's not grief.  Well, not all of it. Although that is mixed in there with good measure. Perhaps it's the Fall Ennui happening a little early.  I don't know.  I do know that it's exhausting.

I've had a few days where my brain is all "Oh hey, I'm going to fully function today. What did I miss?" Then I'm trying to "catch-up" on things that were put aside only to have it last a day or two.

I'm working on healthy coping. Ignoring it doesn't work, except sometimes. I worked from bed one day while NCIS played endlessly in the background.  I made sure to do my stupid little mental health walks but I did skip a few days.  I switched off the country music for a while.  I tried to eat on a schedule but this is where I say that effing test messed up my body and I just now started feeling physically normal this week.

Kevin is in his own feelings because: dead mom and he knows I'm in the dark and twisty place.  He tries but he knows that only time will fix either of us.  So he doesn't comment if I randomly start a project or buy more flowers or forget things or have the music up loud or am watching documentaries at midnight.

Because time is the only thing that is going to fix this.  Time to heal, time for my body and brain to rebalance. Time to just be.

See You in Seven Years Because You Suck. Also: Benign

 So, two things then I'll be finished talking about this whole thing. Because, I would like to forget this forever.

Also, evidence to the contrary: I am telling all y'all about this so no one has unpleasant surprises. Not at all intended to deter anyone.  I mean maybe it isn't shared how difficult prep is because it's already difficult to get people to do the screening.  Well, here's a crazy idea: make it less awful. Make it not take almost a full week to prepare for. Okay, I'm done yelling. Probably.

A listicle:

• I had the Sutab prep and that's the harsh one.  The other pill and fluid combination is reportedly less harsh.  
• If you have just the fluid one, put ice in it.  Or alternate Yukky Fluid and Alternate Drink.
• Advocate for yourself.  Call the clinic if you feel like I did. 
• Reddit has an entire thread and more about this procedure. It listed some good suggestions
• As Swistle reminded me: "As they say in My Fair Lady, “listen very nicely and then go and do precisely what [I] want.” 

I still have mild discomfort in my abdomen.  What I mean by that is that the abdomen is tight, not squishy like the Pillsbury Doughboy.  It feels pressurized and sore.  Not like a tummy ache, not like indigestion. 

The clinic says it's 97% air and the rest is trauma and/or readjustment. It feels like it took a half a tank of air to do the procedure and they used the full tank. The nurse said to take a long walk and that didn't really help but here we are.  I've since taken Lucy on two additional walks and I haven't noticed a difference.  As soon as I eat, it feels like I lose progress.

In desperation, I did a search and  the internet said tea and a hot water bottle so I feel like an old Renaissance woman convalescing on her fainting couch.  It does feel like doing this has helped.

More importantly, the three polyps were benign. Not cancer or even pre-cancer.  So that's the goodest news.  It does harken a little "I did that for nothing" though.  And yes, I know those needed to be removed and still.

During the follow-up call, the nurse said it's up to the doctor to determine five or seven years before this test is needed again.  I replied "So, seven years then" and she laughed but corrected me.  I was emphatic that seven years is the plan.  Because she is not the boss of me.

Then I shared the horrible prep reaction and she did a little tut-tutting which felt a little like "Was it really that bad?" and I persevered. I explained that one shouldn't be lying on the bathroom floor at 2 in the morning thinking about going to the E.R.  That I broke my foot off of my leg and was all "I have THINGS TO DO. FIX IT"  I am a stoic.  Believe people when they tell you.

Taking a different approach, I asked that style of prep either be reduced to half or to a child-size dose OR not at all.  She did agree to that. I explained that the first dose did the trick, there wasn't a need for a second dose. I mean, not to be gross but it's OBVIOUS.  She mentioned that it would be a shame to have to do the test again because the "clean-out" wasn't completed. I repeated again that it was obvious that a second dose wasn't needed.  Trust people when they tell you stuff.

Anyway, I asked her to add a note to my chart with glitter and highlighter and she agreed. Then she said something about "Mention it, if you remember next time" and I was all "OH I WILL REMEMBER"

Sigh.

Oh, and now the doctor has really said five years so SEVEN YEARS it will be.

Also, it is the hope that in those seven years, there is a less invasive way to conduct this test. Already there is the at-home test and with technology changing every day, hopefully it will be like an x-ray/CAT scan/MRI/magic wand that doesn't violate your body kind of thing.

Poor Kevin has heard "FUCK THIS TEST" at least twice a day for a week.  Poor guy.  About day three, I think, I made him place his hand on my abdomen to feel that it was tight as drum.  He said to call the clinic but because I have such fantastic luck, it was a three-day weekend. The situation didn't feel like it was worthy to call the on-call doctor.  I had resigned myself to a "My life is ruined" mindset until one day I wake up and my body isn't staging a revolt.

Because, honestly, I've lost almost two weeks for this test.  The first 3-4 days of clean eating that gave me a stomach ache, the 24-hours of prep, the day of the screening, and now Day 7 of being uncomfortable.

I can look forward to feeling better and not thinking about this for another seven years.  NOT FIVE.

**This is where I say, again, this is a necessary and important screening.                                          Don't skip it because of anything I said and be prepared instead**

Chicken Soup with Rice - September

(this one was always my favorite page)

 

A Very Necessary Screening Part Two or aka EFF THIS PREP

 Okay, so now I've completed the screening.  It's fine, everything is mostly fine.  It just turned out more than I had planned or expected.  To tag onto Swistle again, I agree that it's important to share these experiences so no one is left surprised or scared or upset.

The second alarm went off at 4:00 pm to take the first doses of the pills.  I was working and was wearing my headphones.  I left them on, marched out to the kitchen, and dumped out the pills.  I set the stopwatch on my phone and started the process; pill/water/pill/water/pill/water/PAUSE/pill/water/pill/water/pill/water/PAUSE/pill/water/pill/water/pill/water/PAUSE/pill/water/PAUSE/pill/water/did a frustration dance/pill/water

The meds provide a 16 oz plastic bucket for the water portion.
I opted for a 20 oz. water bottle, knowing I didn't have to drink all of it
and bonus of not being made to feel like cattle lapping from a bucket.

I didn't look at the pills while taking them, I didn't want to be daunted because TWELVE. Instead, I just focused on the television or the window or Lucy and got them down.  I can't guarantee I am going to be this successful at 2:45 tomorrow morning though.  It is A LOT.

And now we wait for the...er...ummm...fireworks.  I still have four ounces of water to drink but I also took two bites of watery jello because I suspect that my stomach is also not going to be my friend as  I rarely take medicine. Let alone twelve pills at once.....

Annnndddd....as predicted, I got nearly done with the water portion and hurled.  I phoned the clinic and they said to a) take the next set slower and b) take the second set EARLIER.  FML.  However, I was concerned that I would have to start all over and so much NO.

Then shortly after that adventure, the intended effect began and I was surprised at how long it lasted. For not eating since 8:45 am this morning (it's now 6:00 pm) and eating very little over the past three days, it went on for so long that I was anticipating seeing aliens and lost socks.  But I knew this was going to be the case so no panic, just kind of sad resignment.

Now it's subsided and I have to "eat" which is chicken broth and my soupy jello.  Chicken broth is not the worst thing ever. Nor is it something I will now include in my diet.  Nor is lemon jello, lime isn't terrible but will remain on stand-by for medical procedures.  And of course, the never-ending water bottle.

This is where I say that for me the level of discomfort went from uncomfortable to unbearable and back again, multiple times.  I told Kevin that I'm never doing this again.  He tried to placate me and I said I MEAN IT.  I wasn't just pouting.  Justification for said pouting in a few paragraphs.

It turned out that I was awake most of the night. Kevin went to bed with Lucy and I watched television and drank water.  I eventually fell asleep, just to be awakened by the second Take Your Pills alarm.  I took my time taking them as advised and still it was a miserable experience.  I could barely take any water afterward so I couldn't remotely achieve the 32 oz. over one hour.  Luckily, my symptoms were showing that I didn't need to worry, I'm guessing that was because I had worked on so much water/clear food intake earlier.

This is where it went sideways.  I am allergic to Sulfa meds, they make me violently ill.  I honestly thought that I was having an allergic reaction.  My stomach hurt, all the rest of the digestive tract hurt, my kidneys hurt.  I was laying on the bathroom floor thinking I was going to have to wake up Kevin because something was clearly wrong. 

Finally I made it back out to the couch, fell asleep and slept fitfully for two hours, maybe.  Kevin woke me up just prior to the final alarm.  I was still feeling sick - nausea and pain, still "symptomatic" and now emotional like an overly tired child.  I slept in the truck on the way down then had to check my attitude at the clinic.  Because they don't deserve any wrath for something that isn't under their control.

Kevin's treading lightly at this point, not making eye contact.  Because he's never met a stranger ever and he has the face that read "Talk to me" he struck up a conversation with an older couple behind me which veered into wills, dnr's and prepaid burial plans.  I'm thinking "Can we just...like...not right now?" 

The check-in process was quick and we waited one minute before they took me into pre-op.  The one happy thing that happened is one of my favorite local artists had art on the walls.  

Ben Mann - photo nipped from his website

The nurse was a little younger than me and was my favorite kind of medical professional: kind but direct.  She listed out what was going to happen step-by-step.  She mentioned sedation levels and I told her "I don't want to remember any.of.this.ever"  She nodded assuringly and said "We can do that".  

So, now I'm waiting and I hear the patient in the next cubicle.  She sounded like an older lady with a complicated health history.  She seemed very familiar with the process. A different nurse was doing the check-in process and she asked how the prep went for her.  She had the EXACT same issues that I had, including the considering going to the ER.  

At this point I felt relieved and vindicated.  I'm usually the very definition of stoic and this was so not how I deal with these types of things.  The nurse returned to me and started her process for the procedure: i.v. pulse ox, blood pressure, etc.. She asked how I was feeling and I explained that I was miserable, still feeling sick and in pain. She was sympathetic but my brain says she doesn't believe me (even if she did) so I mentioned that the lady next door reported the same issues. (so much for HIPAA laws, btw)  

The nurse, to her credit, lowered her voice and shared that they had a many complaints about that style of prep.  Again, I felt vindicated and validation and also: frustrated.  I asked her to note that it not be prescribed to me again and she agreed.

She left, I napped then they rolled me back to the operating room.  I rolled over as instructed, which is actually how I sleep anyway and I went to sleep.  I remember nothing of the procedure.  I woke up to the nurse asking me if I wanted Kevin to come and next thing I knew, he was sitting next to me and it was time to leave.

It turns out that they removed three tiny polyps and sent them for testing.  Odds are it's nothing to worry about BUT - no pun intended, but funny - it now means that I have to rescreen in as little as three years, possible five.  Right now, that is a no.  More on that in a minute.

I opted for walking out instead of using a wheelchair and of course, I stumbled.  The nurse looked skeptical and I laughed "That would have happened without sedation" and Kevin agreed.  

We stopped at the starbucks to get a white chocolate iced mocha and chocolate croissant then I did the little seat happy dance to have food.  Once we got home Kevin went out to the shop because I needed space after all of that.  My stomach/internal organs were still aching but I felt like doing chores or something instead of laying back down for a while. 

Well, that found me under my desk rerouting the cords to my computer, printer, router, lamps, etc.  It also included Kevin cutting a whole in the kickplate of my desk so I could do this.  Yesterday I think I could have gotten him to do anything for me.  lolsigh.

Once that was done, I did nap for a bit as my abdomen was still tight and aching.  Kevin woke me up and asked what I wanted to do for dinner.  Also, that he had scheduled a haircut for 4:00.  My choice was snoozle on the couch and he would bring me whatever I wanted for dinner or I could go and choose which restaurant.  I felt good enough to go so we went.  We sat outside at the marina at one of my favorite restaurants, I had prawns and steamed vegetables that were so GOOD.  

Then by the time we returned home, I was feeling sick again.  I "recycled" my dinner and I have to mention that it hurt. Not the expected kind of hurt because of all the "activity" if you will - and yes, that too, but hurt then ache like before and probably where I now have little cuts or stitches.  I took some ibuprofen (as directed) and laid down on the couch.  

I remarkably slept through the night and slept in.  My stomach doesn't hurt, nor my kidneys but my abdomen remains tight and sore.  The clinic phoned to check in and I missed the call.  I phoned them back and they're closed because Saturday.  It's not enough to call the on-call but I will phone them on Tuesday.

Kevin asked how I was feeling and I said marginally better, still not "normal"  I told him that I don't see myself doing this again, it was so miserable.  He understands but demurred a little.  I explained the laying on the floor thinking about going to the E.R. and he agreed that I need to talk with the doctor.

So, now, I went and read my medical records because I'm a huge nerd.  It turns out that they used a pediatric scope.  I continually forget that I am child-sized.  Child-size glasses, child sized anything medical.  Did you just think what I thought?

I wonder if I need the child-size dosage of the prep stuff.  The wonder has merit as I was symptomatically good after my first prep.  I really didn't need a second one.  All the second one did was make it painful and miserable.

So I'll be asking THAT on Monday as well.  

With that, for me though, it's a hard pass until there are better prep procedures for this. I will do the other style of test, which I've done before, instead. I thought that maybe today my attitude about this would be different and instead I feel more steadfast.  That's how sick and in pain I felt.

While there is another way to check that is less invasive and traumatic to the body and psyche, I will opt for that.  Yes, it's not as thorough or proactive AND it didn't literally ruin my life for days.   If I have to do it, I will opt for the gallon of yukky stuff but I still will have grave concerns about the whole prep process.  

Despite all that being said, schedule your colonoscopy, it is important. It might just be me that had this experience. I'm allergic to everything, I don't take medicine usually, it could just be me. It could just be that prescription of Prep.  

Go prepared with questions and concerns and know that it is your choice.  Use this and Swistles post as a guide to help assuage your concerns and know what questions to ask.

  

A Very Necessary Screening Part One

 My mother-in-law has been gone for 96 days and it doesn't feel like it's been that long.  But I know it's been a few months because I'm almost caught up on all my health exams.  (like how I made that about me?  You though "Oh gawd, she's talking about death again"  FOOLED YOU)

I had put off all my health exams for the past almost two years. Between the pandemic, the in-laws, and everything else, there just didn't feel like there was time to get them completed.  Now I only have three out of six appointments left: dentist, two-year eye surgery follow-up and perhaps the most awful routine appointment that there is: colonoscopy.

So, this is where I say that the ever-so-lovely Swistle documented her adventure on the social media last month.  We did not coordinate this, it was just a strange coincidence.

And thank the universe that she shared her information because it saved me from burning everything down on Tuesday.  I was a FULL MOOD.

Today is when the "fun" starts. This is my itinerary:

It's SUPER FUN.

 I was feeling lucky that the doctor prescribed the meds instead of the gallon of yuck prep method.  UNTIL I see that I have to eat clean/low fiber for THREE days prior. Cue me going to the grocery store because I had stuff for one day.  BUT I'm not drinking the yukky stuff.  AND I will liberally  remind myself that "Swistle had to drink the yukky stuff"  lolsigh.  

THEN I picked up the meds and SIGH.  I almost want the yucky stuff.  TWELVE PILLS the size of a nickel, if it were rolled in half.  TWELVE.  With 32 oz. of water within an hour of taking the pills which take FIFTEEN minutes to take....AND THEN do it again six hours later, which is conveniently timed for 2:45 in the morning.  So much sighing.  And no, they cannot be crushed or cut. 

The prescribed diet is basically all stuff I don't eat because it gives me a stomach ache.  I'm guessing that I'm gluten and/or lactose intolerant or something. *eyerolling myself* Or it's high in salt.  ACK.  Then it feels like it's adding to the disordered eating that the alphabet brain does and DOUBLE ACK.

THEN Kevin came home yesterday and asked what was for dinner and I legitimately wanted to punch him in the face.  MYGAWDMAN.  I told him that he will need to buy dinner tomorrow because No.

Today I ate at 8:45 am, just prior to the 9:00 deadline.  I followed the instructions and had eggs and toast and a few bites of cottage cheese.  Then I doused myself with 16 oz. of water just for good measure.

I took Lucy for walkies because my mental health needed an adjustment and I admit it helped.  Also, I had to do it early because I knew I wouldn't be feeling well this afternoon, prior to the pill taking and most certainly afterward.

The plan is to sleep on the couch tonight but now I'm considering setting up the air mattress.  I don't want to keep/wake up Kevin eleventy times during the night. The couch has television, the air mattress would have Lucy.  (it would be in my office)  Or maybe a combination of both could work.

The saving grace today is that the clear diet allows carbonated drinks.  I made myself a Lotus drink, using blue Lotus because purple, orange, and red are banned.  I chose Blue Raspberry flavor because I don't like Apple and the Kiwi is so TART.  All the other flavors are red/purple/orange or Pineapple.

Also, now it makes sense that my m-i-l's last advice to me was about making jello.  I have two bowls made, one yellow and one green.  One I made correctly, the other one I added too much water.  It's vaguely lemon.  

Starch is not my friend, salt is not my friend. If nothing else, this has shown me that I must eat pretty well regularly.  I eat raw and frozen vegetables, I eat a lot of colors of food.  On the high-fiber/clean diet, I've had a stomach ache all week and it's not just anxiety.  Although my anxiety is at 7, probably.

This is where I say this is a very necessary screening and everyone should do it. It's IMPORTANT.

This is also where I say that Ugh, I'm so PUT OUT about this colonoscopy prep process. I mean, it's the not eating, then the meds, and no sleep because the second set of meds are at 2:45 in the morning, then the whole thing. Also, you have to have a driver which is terrible timing for Kevin to take off and the siblings will be gone (that's a whole other story)  My point is that: It really is no wonder why people don't do this test. 

I guess I'll be happy when I'm in the clear or relieved if there is something wrong and they caught it.  BUT STILL: FML  I hate everyone right now. 

And now this turned into a multiple post bloggity because Ooofff.  Everything fine, just click through to the next post.

Music for Your Monday

Reminiscence of old school MySpace, here's what I've listened to LOUDLY and on repeat lately to combat the Ennui

If you're on the struggle bus, click the links, turn up the speakers, and vibe

Survivin

A Symptom of Being Human

Symphony

A-Ok

And with eternal thanks to Swistle:

Odds Are

Then go outside on go on your stupid walk for your stupid mental health.

Raising Parents - An User Manual

It is my hope that this list could be helpful to someone who is caring for their aging parents. Or as I call it: Raising Parents, because it's like raising children all over again with more frustration and less control.

As you probably know, it's been a rough year in the raising parents arena here. We've gone from living independently to hospice and not living at all and not independently in less than a year. And we're still not done.

Here are somethings to consider if you are (or will be) in this Late Stage or End of Life Raising Parents situation:

Get a Power of Attorney before you think you need it. Even if you have zero intentions of using it. This can be a tender subject as parents want to be considered independent and "of right mind", even when they know that they're not.

Make sure there is a End of Life care plan or at the very least a discussion. These can include:

• Advance Directive and Living Will
• Power of Attorney (for medical, financial, legal decisions)
• Will
• Agreement that Hospice care is acceptable (verbal is fine)
• Agreement that Facility care is acceptable (as in does or does not want to go into a nursing home & verbal is fine)
• Burial Plan - cremation or burial? service or not service? Formal or casual service? (as in church or at the cemetery or somewhere else or not at all)

If you have any of the above documents, scan them and save them on your desktop - or even your phone.  You will need them. 

Medical Advocacy:

• Have access to medical records. If their doctors have online records then it can beset it up pretty easily. I think I had to use an ID number on a bill to set it up initially.
• At the very least, have someone listed as a person that the clinic can communicate with. At the very least.
• If someone can go to the appointments with them, that's very helpful for all involved. AND can be very awkward. lolsigh

Assisted Living: 

• It is ridiculously expensive.  
• See if the person has a Medicare Supplemental Plan that has a provision for assisted living.  Or if they can afford it, add it during the enrollment window.
• Move into assisted living earlier than needed to ease transition. If possible, find a facility that has steps of care, as in assisted up to full-on care so there isn't a need for relocation as needs progress.
• Only the expensive places allow pets but most do allow visits

In-home Care: 

The commercials make it look so easy but it's expensive and difficult to coordinate. The pandemic decimated the health care industry. We found it difficult to get consistent caregivers so we opted to do it ourselves. Like the power of attorney, work on this before you need it. 

AND like the Power of Attorney, they will most likely balk and resist but at least start the conversation and plant the concept before it's an emergency.

State Assistance: see above AND know that the process took about 90-days and that's with them fast-tracking it due to the hospice situation.  It's an incredible amount of paperwork and takes follow-up. 
The one thing I would change is that I would have registered both parents at the same time instead of just one.

Self Care:

• Search the internet or shamazon for "Adaptive clothing". We bought nightgowns for the m-i-l and it was a game changer. Now we also have special shoes for the f-i-l as well.
• Installing a bidet can reduce infections and improve self-care. I found this mind blowing and very proactive.

Safety Proofing the House: 

• Address trip hazards - rugs, cords, etc. Be prepared to hear "But my rugs..." and "I don't trip"
•  Install grab bars in the bathroom, next to the bed or their chair, if possible. 
• Locate everything within easy reach, as in no stooping or needing a stool or ladder. 
• Decrease your stuff, in general.

Supervision:

We were "lucky" that we all lived together and it was easy to pop-in to check on them.  Once you get to this stage, it has to be a priority.  

    Things to notice:

• Cleanliness of the house
• Any odor (think urine, not just dirt)
• Stacks of papers or envelopes - are they struggling with paying bills or managing paperwork?
• Casually check the fridge
• Ask about medications and make sure there is a system. 
• PillPack via amazon is amazing. It doesn't work well if there are a lot of med changes though
• Just an overall wellness and mental health vibe check.  Ask the hard questions.

Things You Won't Think about Until You Need Them:

• Access to med records
• Bank access so everything can be set for auto-pay and it can be monitored for fraud or weird purchases or accounts they didn't know they had or no longer need.
• File cabinet location(s)- where do they keep all of their paperwork. Think insurance info, life insurance/burial plans, legal paperwork.

Chore and Supervision Division:

If you have siblings, know that one of you are going to bear the brunt of the work. It's just how it works out and it doesn't make anyone right or wrong, even though it feels like that.

Someone has to be the point person for the doctors and emergency department and hospital and care facility. If you can, make it one person or it turns into a bad version of the children's game Telephone.

The phone calls are relentless, especially if Hospice is a thing. Just know that moving forward.  Choose a mellow/soothing ringtone because you're going to hear it a lot.  Also: think of hearing it in the middle of the night.

Decision Making and Communication:

• We asked the siblings TWICE when there was any sort of a decision to be made. That ensured there was no confusion about anything.
• Even if someone says "Oh, they wouldn't want that" or "They can't help" ASK, don't assume.  Let that person decide.
• Use social media, messaging, and texting to communicate.  It makes it so much easier than multiple phone calls. One message reaches many people and there's no mis-interpretation.

Documentation

• Keep a notebook for all the appointments, conversations, changes, information.  TRUST ME. 
• Keep a binder for all of the forms and legal documents
• If you have any of the above listed documents, scan them and save them on your desktop - or even your phone.  You will need them. 

Obituary:

Now, I know that not everyone is wired like me. HOWEVER, think about the obituary before you're in the sad space. Ask any questions you might have. I had to trick my m-i-l to get information. As in "I know what day you got married but I don't know WHERE."

Think about it as writing a story about their life.

Also, know that obituaries in newspapers are offensively expensive. The funeral home will post one for free and it stays forever. We used social media and it mostly worked.

List for AFTER someone has passed:
Hospice gave me a list and so did the funeral home. I spent a few hours each over two days making sure we did everything. All in all, it took about a week for everything to finalize.

• Contact the doctors. I just emailed the primary doctors via the clinic portal.
• Be prepared to wait for the funeral home and death certificates. Television makes it seem like it happens quickly.
• Phone - shut if off but remember to back up contacts and photos, etc. before you do.
• Electronics - back up any photos or documents.
• Social Media. Make facebook a legacy account instead of deleting it. It's nice to have.
• Email - I kept the email active but changed it to my father-in-law's name and I monitor it.
• Run a credit report to make sure all the accounts are known.
• Contact Voter Registration - the courthouse was Very Appreciative of the notice.
• Stop mail or stop junk mail/credit offers/etc.

Finally there are two things that I need to also share and they're equally important:

You have to have the hard conversations about money and care, and all of it.  It's no fun and people get sad or angry or frustrated or all of those and that's okay.  It has to happen.  Otherwise, everyone will be caught unprepared and it's the worst kind of surprise.  It also can help avoid resentment and anger later.

When people melt-down, emotionally, it is rarely about The Thing they say they're upset about.  Example: my father-in-law had a melt-down about not being able to "do paperwork" - i.e. bills, medical docs.  It was 100% not about that but that he was hours from losing his wife.  But the "doing paperwork" was what he could verbalize and/or that's what he fixated onto.  

It's rarely about The Thing, it's about the loss.  Loss of autonomy, control, their loved one, their things, their home; any or all of those.

I hope that our experience and my nerdery will help guide you if you are raising parents or will be in the future.  It can also serve as a self-guidebook to prepare yourself as you and/or your partner ages.

Raising parents is not for the weak.  Ask for help. I hope this helps.

Cooking with Mom

 When I cleaned out the cupboards, outside pantry, refrigerator, and freezer of the parents house, there was a LOT of sighing, cursing, and general disbelief.  So much expired food or food that they shouldn't have or any configuration of What the Actual...

I brought home jello cups that the mother used to take pills with.  It was also a sneaky way to get hydration in her without her knowing. (handy tip, btw. It's not sustainable but it helps a little)  Kevin calls it a "bowl of water" after eating too much prior to bedtime, lol.

Kevin tried them and discovered that he loves the sugar free strawberry.  His only complaint was the cups were so small.  On the next shopping order, I included jello that has to be made.  It turned out okay, I mean it's jello.  What can go wrong?

Well, the second attempt was....chewy.  It tasted fine but the texture was not jello-y.  When Kevin asked what happened, I simply pointed at myself.  Then muttered that I probably boiled it too much or not enough or whatever.

He was momentarily stunned into silence.  "You...let me get this right...You...burnt? water?  You burnt the unburnable?"

Now I'm laughing so hard that tears are streaming.  This is happening right in the Thick of It. Emotions were high.

A few days later, we were visiting with the mother and I mentioned that Kevin liked her jello cups.  This pleased her because one of the things she so worried about was Her Things Getting Wasted.

Then Kevin says in his Kevin-like-way.  "Then she messed it up.  She burnt water."

His mom looked at him puzzled for a moment, an expression we're all too familiar with, then giggled.

"No, you probably didn't stir it enough.  Or you didn't boil it long enough. Try again but let it boil a minute and keep stirring."  She patted the bed in a reassuring way.

And from her deathbed, the last piece of advice I received from my mother-in-law was how to make jello.  And she was right.  I didn't let the water boil long enough and it needs to be stirred for a ridiculous amount of time. (I use one song completely playing as a timer)

Now fast forward a few months. I asked Kevin what sounded good for dinner, like ever.  He got a little in his feelings and said "We haven't had potatoes and eggs since Mom"  Off I got to google how to make potatoes and eggs.

This is one of those meals that shows how poor they were when the boys were young.  It's literally boiled, cubed potatoes and scrambled eggs mixed together.

I had a general idea how to do it then Kevin phoned his dad.  He explained I was going to make "tatosandeggs" and needed to know how.

Surprisingly, he was specific and gave me good, solid directions. I wrote them down with the internet directions and went to work.

It is surprisingly labor-heavy.  It look longer than my brain had planned.  I mean, it's potatoes and eggs. I could envision her cooking it with the kids running around, because there were always kids running around when Kevin was young.  

All-in-all it turned out okay. I had the eggs to potatoes ratio wrong but easily fixed.  I added bacon bits to mine on a whim and we feasted.  Then Kevin phoned his dad to say that they were good and to thank him.  You could hear the pleasure in his dad's voice, pleased with being needed and teaching his irascible daughter something.

Finally, today I bought watermelon.  I've never had to buy a watermelon my whole life.  Because it was a summer tradition that the parents would buy it, cube it up, then deliver it in a special watermelon tupperware that she had.  She would cut it up and he would walk it over to the house after dinner.

When I closed the house, I kept both of the tupperware containers.  I tucked them back into a cupboard and told myself that someday I would buy watermelon.

Slicing watermelon is also surprisingly difficult.  I'm sure some of it was just lack of skill and probably dull knives but STILL.  I kept saying aloud "How did you DO THIS?"  She was five foot one or two on her best days.  Eventually I got the hang of it and put the cubes into the special watermelon tupperware.

I sent a photo to Kevin and he replied:

She kind of did, a little bit come back.  I just ask questions into the ether and listen but don't expect answers.  I told her today "Stop frowning, I know you're worrying. I'm being careful." 

She has made me broaden my skills a little more. Kevin has a little bit of his mom with him and I will never burn water again.  Probably.

From Books to Paint and Curtains

 Okay, so.  I have to tell you: I made a decision.  I really took it under consideration, spent a whole day thinking about it; it's been longer than that but in concentrated contemplation. Slept on it. Put out some feelers.  Then I just made a decision and jumped into this project.

I sorted my books by author.  Not by color or anything else fun like that.  I thought about horizonal instead of  vertical. I thought about alternating but went with the standard sorting by author. Not alphabetically by author because I just don't have the bandwidth for that right now.

But wait, here's where it gets controversial:

I got rid of my To Be Read pile(s)  (TBR)  Well, mostly.

Gasp. Sputter. Dismay!

Okay, I know, I know. It's upsetting.  Here's how I came to that controversial conclusion:

Let's begin at the beginning: 

• I'm sorting the books by author.  
• I'm keeping only books I intend to read or reread someday when I'm old and can't just easily buy books.  

By putting the TBR with the Read, my shelves will have more room, be more aesthetically pleasing, and create space for new additions.  Yes, I know, I'm still going to buy MORE BOOKS and that will still be an issue.  But Right Now, I want them sorted this way. That is a Future Me problem.

Then if I want to read that author specifically, I can just browse those shelves and have the fun discovery of "Oh, I have a new book!"  Thanks, Past Me!

*Also, I'm terrible at keeping track of which books in series I have.  This solves the duplicate issue, probably.

However, there are 1 3/4 shelves of TBR still so not to worry.  Perhaps I was a little misleading...or excited about rule-breaking. 

I've acquired books of one-off authors along the way. I've read and kept them so right now, that is a shelf less than full of books. This requires them to share a shelf so that took some rearranging as I placed books back and forth, back and forth.  

Two other book-related things while I'm rambling: 

Earlier I finally went through writing from my childhood; essays, assignments, and a journal I don't remember writing. (so horrifyingly cringy, do not recommend)  I had kept a book report about a book I really liked and for the first time in too long, I ordered a book from shamazon.  Remember when they had only books?  

I have one author that I have way too many of her books.  As it progressed: three shelves reduced to two.  At this point, it feels like those shelves are valuable real estate so I will probably go through those books again to make sure I didn't hoard a book I didn't mean to.  Also, feels a little weird having Such An Excessive Amount of one author's books.  However, this author tends towards series so that just complicates this whole sort-by-author process.

Sidenote that I've mentioned before: for all the years working in social services, I prefer more light reading than anything dark or complicated. So, while not quite grocery store romance novels, or even chick-lit, not true crime either.  I'm not a huge non-fiction fan and those books are on a different bookshelves. 

I've done away with most of the old standard-size paperbacks.  Well, done away with being defined as sitting in a pile next to the bookshelf....now time has passed and I kept a few of them by authors I like and, obviously, I like the stories.  I kept the very first adult fiction book that I read...other than Flowers in the Attic...just out of sentimentality.  (Danielle Steel - Full Circle.  It was the 80's and I was fifteen)

It feels daunting to either surf the interwebs to replace the smaller paperbacks or photograph them to be replaced later. Because let's just be honest: they're not getting replaced.  If they're old enough to be the old standard-sized paperbacks, chances are they are not reprinted in the new mass market style.

Then there's the books from the book clubs that you order on a whim or it's the featured book or you forget to reply and now you have this random book.  Also from book clubs: I kept a few from an author that was/is popular in attempt to give them a try.  I find the author personally annoying so I really did just set us both up for failure there.  Into the pile they go.  Rinse and repeat for another author unburied from the shelves.

This process took almost two days.  I started mid-day on Saturday and was making headway when Kevin mentioned that he told his bff that we would go to his house for an impromptu barbecue.  I whined at him "But I want to play with my BOOOOOOOOKKKKSSSSS."  

Sunday, I was determined to finish. The thing about working from home is that this can't be the storage/clutter/I'll-get-to-that-later room.  At this point of the adventure, the floor was nearly impassable and the bookshelf mostly empty.

Of course, this is now the time to go into town to pick up a new television and router.  Welcome to living with Surely.

What had happened there was we had to disconnect our satellite and the television in our room was not a smart television.  In the Prepare for the Worse, Hope for the Best mindset, I ordered a new television so we would have something to watch at night.  The new router was just needed, Then we also had to run the cable - that's not the right word, I know - from the bedroom to the office.  The office where books had exploded. The office where the router lives.  The office where the books are right in front of the door.

Oh, and because of the possible no television in the bedroom, my brain thought that this was the Absolute Perfect Time to cull through all the dvds in the cupboard.  As a result, "my" dvds are on the bottom shelf of the non-fiction bookcase.  The decision-making factor with that was I need more shelves for photo albums and some of the mother-in-law's things.  Also: who even watches dvd's anymore?

I am an excellent decision maker and planner. 

By now, I'm fully in If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. (or as Kevin called it the other day "If you give an elephant a cracker")  There are three projects going and yikes.  I banished Kevin to his shop, put on my headphones, and set my determination to finish.

As a result, the backset of my truck is FULL of boxes/bags of books. Everything was placed on the shelf, including some paperbacks because I couldn't let them all go.  The other bookshelf was reorganized because see: dvds.  

And all was content in Whoville.

Until, I decided to fix my paint job that I did prior to my eye surgery.  Did you know that painting while being/going blind is not effective?  Hmm.  I promised Kevin that I would fix everything once my eyes healed and now it's been well over one year.  

Now, I know...this has been a lot to process...remember when I got new curtains for the living room and decided I hated the prefab valance so I had Kevin change it?  Well, there is one in my office above a giant window.  It was a different color that I ended up disliking so I had draped fabric across the valance.  This window also had the heavy green satin curtain that matched the rest of the house.

Next thing I know, I've taken down the valance and ordered new curtains.  Like you do when sorting books on a bookshelf.

Now that I have approval for working from home for the foreseeable future, I took out the box from my old office and went through it.  I put up my Doctor Who stuff, used the lamps elsewhere in the house, and just Moved In, I guess is the best way to describe it. 

I still have to rehang the rod with the sheer curtain

It has such a nice feel to it now, like a legitimate office.  It feels enjoyable to walk into the room now and it makes me want to read.  Now I'm on the hunt for a glider rocker because the rocking chair I have isn't comfortable for long sits. It's not a secret library (yet) but I'm holding out hopes for that to happen.

When Something is Forced

 My mom and younger brother did come to the memorial. They arrived about two hours in, just late enough to let me think they weren't coming.  I was down in the yard when they arrived and s-i-l texted from the kitchen "They're here" and I replied "No thank you."  

But Kevin was upstairs and saw them then texted me too. I lingered because I'm still having feelings about how that played out with my mother. I realized while I was sitting there that the contrast was highlighted in neon, the difference between mothers.  In the now, there were just under one hundred people at my m-i-l's memorial; she was so beloved.  Then there was my mother.

Then next thing I know Nephew is walking my mom down to the table where I was.  I thought that was sweet of Nephew until he told me she told him to do it.  Sigh.  Perfect example.

It was as awkward as one would expect.  Not only did I have this stunning realization about the relationship just two weeks prior, there's also distance there due to the Pandemic.  Kevin tried to keep a conversation going but it was just uncomfortable. Kevin's b.f.f. - who knows my family - was sitting with us too but he was no help, he just wallowed in the awkwardness with me. lolsigh.

My brother tried to keep a thread of a conversation too but he's the smartest guy in the room - just ask him - and with mixed tones of bigotry, so that fell flat as well. More on that in a minute. Also, he's absolutely befuddled why I would be staying away from the family these past years.  There is zero self-awareness.

Earlier in the day, I had told Five that we were going to go to the creek and he chose That Moment to want to go.  He came up to me and snuggled up then said he wanted to go to the creek.  In front of everyone.  I told him that I couldn't just then but I would in a little while. "Why can't you go now?" he asked.  I awkwardly explained that I had to stay and talk to people.  He has no recollection of who my family is so they were just "people" to him.  

Because he's seven-and-a-half, he's not to be thwarted. "When will you be done? When can you go? Are you done now? Why do you have to wait?"

I'm lamely answering him, even saying "I know I promised that we would go but right now I have to stay."  "Why?" he asks again.  He's the youngest child, he knows the tricks.  He kept asking and I tried to make light of it.  Then he puts his face to mine, almost nose-to-nose, hands on both sides of my face and in a hypnotic tone says "Why can't we go? Let's go..."

It made me laugh and I told him "You're just making it weird now" and he laughed, then he wandered off.  It occurred to me much later that my mother and brother just sat there mute the whole time.  Not an interaction, not a "You sure have grown!" or a "Well, you have things to do" Nothing.  We continued to sit in awkward conversation.  

Finally, she announced they were going and kept trying to hug me. Which is so weird, we weren't raised with affection and now she hugs and it's unsettling. Also: do you not remember yelling at me?      Brother made a comment about how he didn't know how to address the card "There's a lot of people here" and I just said "It's a big family, and not everyone is here right now. People have been coming and going."  

Mom then also commented about how many people were here and I just lamely repeated "It's a very big, busy family."  I think they both might have had the realization that THIS *waving my hands around four generations of people* is my family and that it Actually Existed.  

Then cue Kevin, one of my favorite of the young cousins - and my Kevin's namesake - walking up and breaking the thread of the conversation.  Mom literally just started walking away and my brother lamely said "I guess I better get going"

My sister-in-law said that they just said hi to her upon their arrival, which is surprising because she was so worried about her during the Chastisement.  Then Mom went and sat with my father-in-law and Kevin said he didn't see her visiting with my f-i-l at all, so who even knows.  I wondered aloud to my s-i-l that it felt like a reconnaissance mission and she didn't disagree.  Or more like an item on a checklist: Publicly Support Daughter.  Yeah, that feels right.

Oh, and then later, Kevin told me that he was talking to our SUPER LIBERAL neighbor and climate change was mentioned.  My brother disagreed about it - of course - and said "We don't really know what's changing it" and Kevin said "Well, we kind of do..." in a David Spade way and Neighbor agreed.  Brother disagreed again and Kevin said "Well, in fact, she does know. Her husband is a scientist and professor." and Neighbor interjected "You don't have to be a SCIENTIST to know!!"   I would have paid $20 to see that.  So, that was about what we expected. (see: smartest person in the room.  Also: no boundaries)

I haven't heard from anyone since and it's been a month.  My nieces bridal shower was this weekend and I couldn't go for a variety of reasons. (it's okay, she understands the situation)  I am waiting for the "You could have made an appearance..." phone call.  Her wedding is in a little over one month so I'm sure there will be conversation before then.

Oh, wait, we ran into my eldest brother, niece and her husband the weekend prior to the memorial at a car show. My brother acted like nothing had changed and Niece was a little awkward but it was fine.  Then my brother told a story about how he flipped off his supervisor in the security camera and had a negative consequence; laughing like this was a normal thing to do.  I mean...what.  He is Retirement Age.

SO THEN fast forward back to the memorial: my mom mentions in a slightly judgey tone that my brother said they saw us.  I explained that Nephew had asked us to go as a Father's Day present to him  and we went to get a break from everything.   She begrudgingly accepted that answer.

Finally, my niece came to the memorial toward the end.  I think she timed it that way on purpose, if I'm being honest.  At one point, she off-handedly mentioned that her grandma (my mom) had a big reaction about the memorial and she laughed then waved it off.  So apparently, of course, the entire family knows that I was a horrible daughter, to her.  I didn't ask her about it because she doesn't need to be in the middle of the drama.  

During this, I could hear my m-i-l in my head.  "Be nice, it's your mother."  An example of the contrast: a gentle reminder versus a yelly voicemail and forced interaction.

Chicken Soup with Rice - August

 

Three Phone Calls

 Okay, so, I foolishly thought that life was settling down.  I should really, really, know better by now.

Yesterday after a kind of busy morning, I had a lull.  No one needed anything, the phone wasn't ringing, work was quiet.  I thought that now was the time to look at my personal to-do list and see what I can knock off of it.

Three phone calls.  Simple enough.  Not really though because I've grown an adverse reaction to the phone.

Sigh.

First one: a referral was sent for a colonoscopy because I'm super overdue.  They never called to schedule so I called.  And...left a message.  Well, at least I called.

Second one: schedule a big girl haircut. It's been over a year since I've had my hair cut; I've been doing it myself.  It's time to have someone with a license to clean up everything.  The person who cuts my hair has retired and sold the business in that year.  I had left a message at a place in my hometown weeks ago with no call back so I tried another place.  Left a message.

Third one: this was supposed to be a simple "Just give us a call and we'll take care of it" kind of thing.  This was not for me but for the parents.  I called the courthouse to let them know that the parents house was sold and will be gone on Monday.  Yeah, that requires a form and a check. Before Monday.

Into the truck I go and travel to the courthouse, twenty minutes away.  And sit in traffic on the freeway.

When I finally arrived, I did the form, I debated the Why Am I Paying Taxes, only to discover that my card was at home and I couldn't pay anyway.  Meanwhile, the purchaser of the house called Kevin because the courthouse reached out to them during this.  Turns out: they had not secured a permit and the courthouse couldn't see a title transfer.  

Now I'm walking to the other side of the courthouse to determine that the transfer was completed.  Yes, it was but I don't know what the problem was. I just know it's not in the parents name anymore.

Back home and my phone rings.  The clinic to schedule the colonoscopy.  Check that off the list.

Then my father-in-law calls with questions and needs me to go to his bank.  That requires an appointment so I called to schedule that.  Left a message.

Finally, I called the courthouse to pay the bill.  Turns out the person I spoke with on the phone and the person I did the paperwork with are in two separate offices.  Of course.  However, I only paid half of the taxes so I can't care about that. 

And now it's after 5:00 pm.  Three phone calls turned into six and took at least two hours.  

AND the haircut place hasn't phoned me back.

I swear if Kevin says "It will slow down, we're almost done" one more time, I'm going to SQUARE UP.