Three Boxes of Time Travel

 I've decided that now I'm home forever,  I might as well excavate Monica's Closet. Like, for real, though.  Usually it's an organize things into boxes and move on with my life.  It feels like it's time to really, really, really go through stuff.  I blame The End Times.

It's been about a year since I've tried to tackle this task.  Usually it happens around the holidays because I have to put all the holiday decorations up and find the Christmas cards.  But time is a construct and nothing matters anymore.  I may put out Christmas decorations. HalloThanksChrismakuhEve.

Like always, I had random crap piled up around the storage totes.  Birthday cards, picture frames, empty boxes, projects that I'm going to get to later. (I am. Am too!)

Because I'm an adult, I had a debate about whether or not to keep empty boxes.  The holidays are coming and there are eight children in my family.  Standing there, something popped in my head that my friend used to say when we were younger: "They sell those at the store every day."  So, into recycling the boxes went.

I have a small tote of electronical things.  Phone cases, cords to any electronical thing that ever existed, ear buds, old tablets, etc.  I dumped it out onto the kitchen counter and sorted it.  Because technology is expired before it's even released, most of the stuff is junk.  All the cases, many of the cords and a few odds and ends also went into recycling/goodwill.

Fall decorations were in two totes.  I've emptied them both and one of the totes is going outside to the tool shed.  This is going to create a Survivor episode for Fall decorations in two months.  One tote per season seems reasonable.  Except for Christmas, don't be silly.

Because I've worked organizing everyone's photos except for mine, there was a small box of unsorted  photos.  I've set those aside for my next project after Monica's Closet.

(Reminder why it's called Monica's Closet: Annual Excavation and Monica's Closet )

As mentioned in the above post link, there are a few totes of nostalgia. Well, three large totes. They've moved from house to house to house since 1990-ish.  It's well beyond time to go through all of that and distribute it to somewhere other than here.  Maybe the kids will want something, maybe it will all go to goodwill.  We'll see.  

There is a train museum literally minutes from our house and I have a box of trains, tracks, etc. that I'm trying to give away.  I emailed once (the only way to reach them) with no success.  I've just emailed again with hopes someone will answer.  It's a long story but I ended up with lots of trains years ago, including vintage train sets.  They've been in our closet for years and it's time for them to go.

I have a nearly two foot tall, plastic snoopy piggy bank that has travelled everywhere with me since childhood.  It feels like it's time for him to live somewhere other than the closet. But I'm having separation anxiety.  I don't remember ever not having snoopy with me.  Years and Years ago, it was filled with change and we took it to a coin exchange to pay for something racecar.  We were competing for a championship and broke a.f. and needed something.  Maybe I should put him up with the trophies, he did the work.

Kevin is a non-sentimental human.  Get rid of all.the.things he says.  Until I start to pull out his old hot wheels, GI Joes, and records.  Then he's awash with happiness as he remembers.  Some of his hot wheels are going to Nephew (not Five, but Nephew) the records are going to C2 Nephew, our bohemian child.  The rest is already packed up again and snugly stored back in the closet.

Hmm, what else?  Well, here are some of the treasures I've found:

A perfume bottle...it was in a small box labelled Tony.  Now I'm sneezy and wheezy.  As he ended up in juvenile detention, this seems appropriate.

These cuffs from high school.  Redneck punk. Cafeteria utensils.  Yep, actually wore these. I've mentioned the IDGAF was strong in me back then.

I found my childhood glasses, in their original case.  I wore these for years and years.  My mom said because I wouldn't wear anything else - which could be true - but I suspect that we were also poor and glasses are expensive.  Strangely, I can read with them.  They're THICK, omg. I never post personal photos but look:

                                                           1976 and 2020.  Same glasses

I still have some stuffies from my childhood.  They are, um, deteriorated and not just a little bit terrifying.  One is a knock-off Oscar the Grouch.  One is a Snoopy stuffy that I've washed in hopes of resurrecting. There is a legit Raggedy Annie.  Then there's this terrifying little bastard:

This guy actually makes Kevin nervous and I get it.  So, here's his origin story:  My paternal grandmother, my favorite who passed when I was five, always gave me gifts.  Not big things because she wasn't well-off but things like books, stuffies, Red Rose Tea figurines, pretty things.  

This guy was covered in rabbit fur, so he was super soft and he was the perfect size to fit in my little hands.  And here's where he meets a troubled childhood and a kid with sensory issues.  I think his ear was the first to go.  I don't remember the tongue but he must have had one.  And he didn't used to be bald.  I petted the very fur right off of him.  So he's bald and looks like he has a terrible skin condition. There is no resurrection story for him.  Yet, I can't bring myself to toss him or give him to Lucy.  

*Pause*

Okay, status update. I've texted photos of stuff to my childhood bff, Nephew and the Nieces.  Some of the stuff is going to them and some of it to the goodwill.  Childhood bff was all "HARD PASS" on having letters we wrote to each other from middle school.  The kids are each taking some small things. Another sizable portion is going into recycling. 

I'm to the This Is Never Getting Done phase.  The goal is to consolidate the three totes into one.  Right now this seems insurmountable. But I already have two totes empty and one overflowing.

I have a plan.  Everything is kind of piled into the overflowing tote, I bought two scrapbooks today after going to recycling, and will put everything possible into those.  Hypothetically, those scrapbooks can then go with the photo albums and the items remaining will fit into one tote.  

I'm done for a few days though. My psyche can't take anymore nostalgia.   

And that stuffie keeps dead-eyeing me.

It's Officially Fall

 It is bucketing down rain still and it looks like one of those days in the beautiful PNW that the sun doesn't come up at all.  

It's Friday which is coffee friends and walkies day.  I don't know that it's going to happen today though

Happy Fall, y'all.  Find your happy wherever you can.

Six Months

 Has everyone seen the thread/article about the Six Month Wall?  I read it on the twitter and retweeted it then it popped on the facebook and I reposted it.  And here it is:  Six Months

This spoke to me because I was feeling a little low.  My motivation had disappeared, I was sleeping in instead of getting up for work, I found myself binge-watching NCIS.  I chalked it up to the season and weather change.  And that still could be some of it. 

As I read this though, I felt it.  It feels like This is Never Going to End.  We probably have another six months of this, at least.  While we have a rhythm and we've kind of figured this out, it's still Not Normal.  We keep trying to grasp at anything we can find that feels normal.  For me, it was watching the Seattle Seahawks on Sunday.  For the first time in six month, something felt familiar and comfortable.

We're starting to look toward the holidays now.  I keep telling my BFF that I'm going to get out my Fall and Halloween decorations.  I still haven't.  I open the door to Monica's Closet and just sigh.  I know that if I just suck it up buttercup, I will feel better.  Yet, here I am.

The thing that I keep reminding myself is that this is all temporary.  This mood will pass, six months will happen faster than we can imagine.  Hopefully a year from now the memory of this will have begun to fade.

In the meanwhile, this article made me feel better.  

And I'm listening to this TedTalk and trauma presentation again. It had a huge impact on me a few years ago. Making me see the bigger picture when it comes to how the current atmosphere, if you will, is affecting us, whether we think it is or not.  It's geared toward social services and first responders but I really, honestly feel like we are all social service workers and first responders right now.   Beyond the Cliff and Re+Fuel

Again, just because you're not a first responder or work in social services doesn't mean these don't apply to you.  We are all essential workers right now.

But that's pretty heavy stuff to listen to, even though it's enlightening. So here are two things that have gotten me through this week:

I protest-downloaded the ticktock app the other day.  Once I figured out how to set the algorithm, OMG.  I haven't laughed like that in a while.  Go do it.  Make sure you hit the heart on the ones you like so the algorithm will know what to show you. Mine is set to dogs and a few really great humans that make me smile.  (look up #MyBoy or #StepDad if you need a good cry)

Human of New York on the social media is featuring the autobiography of Tanqueray in conjunction with a gofundme that has reached a staggering amount and gives you faith in this world again.

Meanwhile, I'm going to go get my Halloween decorations out.  No, I am. Seriously. I AM.

Incident, Arraignment, Trial, Decision

Kevin and I never/rarely fight.  I mean, sure, we get impatient or snarky occasionally because: humans. When we do fight, it is ALWAYS about his brother.  ALWAYS.  Sometimes about the racecar/vehicles but really, it's always about his brother.

A fight though is like super rare. We're living in the End Times so why not. Let's go.

The Incident:

This go-around was started because there is a project requiring tech support for the racecar.  Kevin had planned for us to work on this on Saturday.  Then unexpectedly he had Friday afternoon off.  I mentioned that we could work on the project now instead of Saturday then he would have his whole weekend free. 

This was met with a curt no because his brother is due home soon and "I don't need that stress."

Sigh.  "That stress" is because when his brother comes to our house (shop, never in the house) it is awkward because we don't speak really.  Summed up:  I shut down and/or disengage when his brother is around. I just CAN'T around him.  In turn, he doesn't acknowledge my presence.

My point was: Can this ONE TIME not be about his brother?  Kevin's point was: It's not worth it, we had a plan and stick with the plan. My response was This is exhausting and ridiculous. 

The Summary of The Issue of His Brother:

I've mentioned the brother before but here's the nutshell:  He has untreated depression and anxiety, which also results in lots of narcissism. His behavior has been excused and enabled his whole adult life.  As a result, he has disrespected-abused every single member of this family from Kevin, to the parents, to his grandchildren. 

It's NEVER About him.  Never.  It's always someone else's fault. Globally.

Exhibits A,B, C, D:

(because this isn't simply he's a debbie downer, or nitpicker, or lazy. He's all these things And:)

At Christmas, he yelled at one of the bigs for....existing?  Young Nephew literally just walked into the kitchen and he yelled at him to get out.  When he walked back into the living room, I hugged him and said "I'm sorry that your grandpa is an d*&k. We love you."  (One nephew asked at Easter "Why doesn't he like us?"  How heartbreaking is that?)

When his son nearly died (not hyperbole, literally almost died) and was discharged from the hospital, he had to live with them. Because he couldn't return to five children in his own house with a depleted immune system.  On that same day, my sister-in-law was in a terrible car accident that required her to be on bedrest for weeks.  HE went to bed with a COLD for a week, requiring another family member to come live with them to help care for the nephew and his wife, and now him.  A COLD.  Or should I say a "cold."

One of the last times the ambulance was called to the house for my mother-in-law, he didn't come to the house. He stayed in bed because "Dad said I could".  As we watched her dying in front of us and paramedics doing CPR and shock in the ambulance IN THE DRIVEWAY, he stayed in bed. Leaving Kevin and I to deal with all.of.that. Then complained he was tired the next day at the hospital.  

This is the last one, even though I can go on for days without exaggeration.  Remember when we didn't have power for four days?  FOUR DAYS.  The first day, Kevin came home from work early to ensure everyone was taken care of. Including using our generator for his parents because THEIRS WAS AT THE BROTHERS HOUSE.  When the brother got home from work -at regular time-, he stood in the driveway in the rain and pouted because we were going to dinner and "he didn't know what to do. The generator was out of gas."  (he's a millwright in case you're wondering what his vocation; a mechanic for all types of engines)

 So, there's some solid examples of why I just can't with him. This isn't just little personality quirks; it's abusive and manipulative behavior.

 This isn't addressing the impact he has on my husband because this needs to be a post and not a novel. You can guess. 

Complaintant's Statement: 

I was married to Satan who also had these behaviors and I had an alcoholic father who has these behaviors.  So THANK YOU UNIVERSE for putting yet another male figure in my life with these qualities.  It could be said that I keep having these "lessons" put in my path because I haven't learned yet and to that I offer a polite, yet emphatic: f&*k off.

I have little to zero patience with people who are rude or disrespectful.  I've worked hard on not engaging and trying to let it go.  However, this is thirty years of experiences with him and, remember: he lives next door.

The Brother's Narrative, probably:

Anything I say or do, facial expressions or actions, are ALL ABOUT HIM no matter what.  

If I say something: there's perceived tone. Or "Why did she say that?" Or "She knows I think that..."  

If I'm working and concentrating, I'm being rude.  (working on racecar or the racecar computer, mostly in this situation, which bugs because I'm a girl, and he isn't "needed")

If I disengage, I'm being rude or standoffish. Defining "disengage" as I will excuse myself or not go out if he's in the shop, I will go straight into the car trailer if we're racing, I will opt out of going somewhere.

It has been said multiple times that I treat our CANADIAN FRIENDS completely different than him.   (Ummm...YEAH.)

My Rebuttal Argument:

He is the only person who treats me "like a girl" when it comes to the racecar.  I have lots of knowledge that he doesn't possess because it's MY racecar and I hear/read/work on/about it all the time. (He does very little work on his racecar.  Nephew does most of it, with Kevin's help. HE takes all the credit though.)

I can rationalize that I'm Kevin's wife and that status bumps him down the food chain. I am an obstacle to Kevin, whom he is hyper-focused & neurotic about. Kevin said that the same issue arose with his first wife. It's not totally me, he would be this way with anyone Kevin was married to. 

Kevin has really been working on boundaries with him, so of course he's being resistant and it's got to be all my fault. There is no other rational explanation in his world.

A Study in Psychology:

He has told Kevin that "If I just knew why she didn't like me then..." which is a specific kind of ridiculous because he has no intention of changing.  Why would Kevin enter into that kind of discussion?  "Let's see, well, she thinks you're a mentally ill, selfish ass who abuses everyone around you. Can you work on that?"

He pulls focus to him, constantly. (see going to bed when your wife is injured and your son is recovering from dying)  If Kevin has a project that requires his attention, the brother will create a sudden problem so that Kevin's attention is required to be on him. In every restaurant, he will order steak. It's never right then sends it back then we have to wait and listen to him pretend to feel guilty about making us wait. (He ordered steak at a PIZZA place and then was pissed because it wasn't right. A PIZZA PLACE!)  

If we are watching sports at his house, he will pause it because he has to go into the kitchen, making a group of people wait until he returns. (think Super Bowl)  He hosts a pay-per-view sports event, makes extravagant dinners and CHARGES his friends.  (Kevin and I disagree on this one, he says it's okay because it costs him money. I say no because he chooses to host)

He acts as if Kevin's long-distance friends are also his friends. They have never spoken beyond social media comments. At most Kevin will put his phone on speaker so he can work while talking and he overhears.  He talks about them as if are besties. If Kevin friends someone on social media, he does (I hid him on facebook because GAH)  He'll tell stories of things he's done, when it's things that Kevin has done. 

Yet, he can change his behavior. He's had a long-term job. He's not such a dick when our friends are around but not always. A few of the friends can call him on it but most tolerate it because he's Kevin's brother. (he doesn't have his own friends, only Kevin's) The point being that he can be self-aware.  

Research and Strategies:

Because I'm a nerd, I researched this topic over the years.  How to deal with difficult family members, how to cope with toxic people, how to overcome childhood baggage, Dealing with Trauma and Trauma Responses, etc.  The advice is to lessen opportunities (check) not engage when behaviors arise (check) and suck it up, buttercup because family (check)  To mostly, no avail.

I disengage because it's what I need to do and in attempt to keep Kevin from being under fire.  Knowing that I trigger him, I lessen opportunities for interactions but that has proven unsuccessful.

If I be myself, he finds me offensive with me all being a girl with opinions and knowledge and stuff.  

If I'm not me and hold my tongue and/or withdraw myself from potential situations, it sucks to be me and bonus: I'm being disrespectful or inconsiderate.  

It just pisses me off that he is such a precious little fragile flower that everyone has to change to his expectations. If I hear "That's just him" once more, I'm moving to Narnia.  (Or "He's been in a good mood lately"  I threatened to punch people if I heard that ever again. Hello, trauma response.)

Kevin is stuck in the middle; because he becomes the mediator to keep the peace.   He has done a tremendous job at keeping some distance and creating boundaries.  He gets a lot of praise there. Sometimes though, Kevin is so used to his behavior that he doesn't always see it.  It's just become part of the scenery, which can be frustrating to me.  

While I can justify that he behaves this way because it's been allowed, it affects everything we do. If we go racing, he's there. If we go on vacation, he's there.  If we go outside, he's there. Holidays are spent at his house. (there is no changing that, to those of you who just thought "What about...")

Possible Resolutions:

Rinse and Repeat.  Because really, there's no other option.

Try to human more. Historically, I've found this unworkable.  

Example: After the fight, I walked out to the shop and the brother was unexpectedly there.  I decided I would try and looked directly at him when I walked in, creating an opportunity for engagement. He looked away.  I asked Kevin a question, he answered, I looked at the brother again and smiled.  He looked away. Sigh. (he would say "Well, she makes me uncomfortable" or "She never does so...")    

Or Kevin gets a praised/condescending "She was nice to me!" comment like I'm a misbehaving puppy.  

Wait until the parents pass/go into assisted living then interactions are significantly less.  We have not completely crossed off moving after this happens.

Crowd Sourcing:

Any advice/opinion is welcome.  My feelings are not easily hurt nor am I easily offended.   Evidence perhaps to the contrary.

Decision:

Frankly, I know there is no solution to this. This post is just venting uselessly to the universe.  Maybe it will provide some entertainment or solidarity to others who also have difficult family members.  I hope that is the result.

Operation Eradicate Ivy = Complete

Remember I said that I had ideas for the garden?  I'm pleased to say that they are done.  It is extremely helpful to have a husband who has access to any kind of materials you might want. Even if he is a little skeptical.  The smoke from the West Coast wildfires arrived yesterday, adding a little panic to getting this project finished.

So, where do I begin?  The IVY.

We have mostly eradicated the ivy.  I still see little signs here and there but it's where I don't care if it grows again. Unfortunately, we had to use the weed killer that is bad for humans and the environment.  Nothing else was having any effect on the ivy, other than annoyance.  

Then I had to remove the dead ivy, which was super fun.  *shaking my head*  The reason the ivy was allowed to grow in that area was that it covered a not easily accessible, steep part of the hill.  So even with my newly built stairs and rock cascade to balance on, it was a challenge. For the part on the right side, I climbed up the hill, sat on my bum, then slid on said bum to the bottom of the hill when I was finished.  

Ivy taking over everything

Dead ivy and bonus Lucy

Now, I had four pots of perennial plants that were along the house.  It was a struggle to get anything to grow there because the heat would reflect off of the house onto the plants. And, if we're being honest: watering plants isn't high on my list.  Also, Kevin didn't like them there because it felt like clutter to him.   (he's cute, that's why I keep him around)

Two of these plants were lavender.  I have a big lavender bush in the rock garden that makes the bees very content.  Kevin remarked on them and it clicked in my head that I should plant them instead of having them in pots.  But I'm out of space in the garden.  Like, seriously, out of space. The other two plants were supposed to cascade out of their pots but never really achieved that goal.  

My original plan was to plant what GiGi suggested but then the End Times came and I didn't want to go to the nursery.  So, I decided to use what I had.  A novel idea, I know.  With the theory that in proper homes, these plants will now cascade down.

The bank is clay so anything I plant has to be hardy. I know these plants have survived my neglect so we should be good. Also, this is where Kevin comes in: he brought topsoil and compost to help facilitate the success of anything planted. The bank is also held up/in by ferns.  Sadly, it's the time of year that the ferns are beginning to die but they are staying. When they're healthy, they're beautiful.  I also uncovered a hydrangea that I had transplanted and forgotten about. Now that it's uncovered from the ivy, it will grow next season, theoretically.  

Excuse the dying ferns and dead leaves. Fall arrived unexpectedly

I'm mostly satisfied how this turned out.  I'm waiting to see what the winter weather does.  It's possible that a good rain or snow will bring the compost/soil down into the yard. Kevin says it won't but what does he know? He's just a landscape materials expert.  

I messaged a photo to my BFF and they said "Almost done!"  It stalled me for a minute then I looked at it through their eyes.  That's where having rocks border this section came to be.  It did look unfinished.  I don't have a photo of it because when I use the snapchat, I forget to take a real photo too.  By adding the rocks, it will keep the grass away and hopefully be a little barrier to the weather. I might still add a few around the border, I haven't decided yet.

Okay, that was a lot just for that part of the garden.  Let's talk about 1,000 lbs. of rock.

It took almost 1,800 lbs of rock to do the original cascade.  Then Kevin brought another 500 lbs. to do the ivy section and to help fill in gaps.  He was a little surprised when I asked for MORE.  "Are you SURE?" he asked.  "I don't have time to help you" he said.  (he's in the middle of a big project now that the house is done)  Yep, I am ready.

Thursday night he brought home 1,000 lbs. of rock.  The smoke was already settling in but he got home late so I couldn't start until the next morning.  At 8:00 am, I was out there with a wheelbarrow and stubbornness; racing the incoming smoke. Luckily, my plan was for the cascade to not be as wide as the original one so the work went remarkably fast.

Two and a half hours later and I was done.  Kevin phoned twice to make sure I was still alive, had all my fingers, and remembered to go inside before I died.  Lucy sat in the truck the entire time, waiting to go get treats at the coffee stand.  I have a weird support system.

Much like the first time I did this kind of cascade, I started at the bottom.  Stacking rocks as they saw fit and sort of planning my way.  Mostly, I try to let the ground tell me where things should go.  I've had this vision in my head for YEARS so I was really hoping it would turn out as imagined.

Then I had to back up the truck to the top of the hill.  This part was more tricky than the first cascade because I had to unload in the road, walk through a gate and a few steps more, then place/bowl the rocks down the hill.  Like before, this part of the hill is unaccessible.

Like before, I made backstop of larger rocks about midway and had mild success.  The top is too steep to crawl down so I did the best I could, knowing that I would have to climb up to re-arrange later.  I took no photos because I was so focused on getting done before I needed my inhaler.  Know that there were rocks in the yard below, rocks in places I didn't intend, and a bit of cursing.

During

Before.  

Wonky angles, I know.  I wish that I had documented more but you get the idea. In the before photo, the dead parts are from the eradication of the dreaded buttercups.  In the during photo, I had started the cascade but not finished the ivy replacement part. 

First photo was beginning of smoke, other two are in the midst of it.

It turned out mostly like I'd hoped.  The plan was to go trim the dead ferns and weeds but the smoke is making that impossible.  It will also look better when we have the landscaper weedwhack one last time before winter.

Imagine the ferns growing along the top then the cascade wending it's way down through grass, ferns, and allowed dandelions.  (because bees are more important than grass)  I'm also wondering about solar lights/fairy lights along that cascade.  We'll see.

Mostly I like how it transitions from structured English garden, to less structured, to wild.  That was my vision/hope.  

Panorama made the deck rail look wonky

View from the deck, featuring our current smoke monster 

I'm super happy that this is done before the Fall rains arrived, otherwise it would have been MudFest 2020.  It should be nice enough for a while that the grass  and some of the ferns will regrow before the first freeze.  

If the ivy returns after all of this work, then I concede defeat.  

An Update from the I.T. Department

You will notice as you read that I had A LOT of coffee when I wrote this.  Sorry/Not Sorry. 

 Hey, guess what? The internet was broken again today.  What's funny about this is that this morning I thought to myself "The internet hasn't been broken for a while"  Then fast forward hours and voila! my mother-in-law phones.  Magic.

Allow me some nerdery for one moment:  Because of where we live, we can only have wireless hotspots.  Because they're not intended for home use, per se, the connection can get wonky; especially if the network is busy.   

We've tried other wireless providers but because of where we live, the same issue exists. They  share the same towers and/or tower locations so don't believe the hype.  We've tried satellite internet and it was worse, if that's possible.  Cable, etc. internet is not available because of banjoland.  

Now, here's another thing to know: After a certain amount of internet (trying to keep the nerdery down) is used, the internet is throttled. (slowed)  This can be infuriating when you need internet and can't get it.  I mean, it's slower than dial-up and reminds me of my shortcomings on the regular.  

School began last week and the internet was almost useless.  I couldn't work because my work computer requires more than smoke signals from the interwebs.  Out of desperation, I searched for internet providers near me.  (Do y'all know that trick? On your phone: search place or thing "near me" and it will give you results within like a 25 mile radius)  

Anyway...

Everything is done online these days and I don't hate it.  I checked two providers and got a no from both.  Then I tried another company and they said yes.  Hmmm.  Seems unlikely but I scheduled an appointment.  

I told Kevin that the site says we have service here and he was equally as skeptical.  For one, his brother says that he checked everywhere (he didn't) about a year ago.  "Well, that was a year ago..." was the only nice response in my possession.  

But still, I kept my hopes to a minimum.  I'm not a looking forward to something person anyway because I've just had too much life experience.  This kind of hurts Kevin's feelings but there's not much I can do.

The tech was Hours late.  Of course, they give you the "Between 8-Noon" window that everyone loves. I had to actually call out of work, which is weird during the End Times.  At 11:30 am, I phoned the company to make sure it was still a thing.  Again: I am a hope for the best, plan for the worst, keep my expectations low, kinda girl. 

The service rep was LOVELY.  It feels like that doesn't happen often so I felt a tiny glimmer of hope.

Two hours later, the tech got here.  Totally apologetic and helpful.  And all techs are teenagers now. Or is that just me? lolsigh.

He was skeptical about us having service here because of WHERE WE LIVE (ugh) and because it's DSL.  This is dying/dead technology almost as it comes into our house via phone lines.  I had to explain that we hadn't had landlines since 2006 and he laughed "Most people don't".

I used one of Kevin's tricks and asked him "What would YOU do?"  He stalled, "I've never been asked that question before."  I know, that's why it's a great question. (Thank you, Kev.)   He said because it's not MY time being wasted (it's his and he's "Being paid anyway.") and there's no obligation, give it a try.  So I did.

He had to drive a mile and a half to the closest junction to wire it to our house.  This is where I'm thinking "And there it is: the glitch."  Also, I figured he would be here until dark but it actually didn't take very long.  He also came into the house, set up everything and was gone pretty quickly.

Because I'm a nerd, I'm immediately trying all.the.things.  I sent a short video to Kevin of Hamilton playing on my work computer.  "So it works!" he says after immediately calling me.  Just that tiny thing of having Hamilton play on my computer was everything.

Still, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I connected the satellite and it was "Meh, I'll think about it."  I connected the tablets and they, too, were "Meh." Now I'm feeling vindicated in my skepticism.  Then my laptop worked fine so now I was puzzled.  

Somewhere along the way, I realized that it had to be hard-wired.  If I connect via wifi then it's not great.  If I connect via an ethernet cable, then I'm in business.  

It's like a Whole New World.  We could never stream or download television and now we CAN.  It takes a fifty-foot ethernet cable strung across the house but it WORKS so my care level is sub-terrainian.  Oh, and I can continue to work from home but whatever.  I can stream movies.

Back to the internet is broken part.  This is longer than I anticipated. 

Just a reminder that the parents cell phones and internet is on our account.  It's out of my pocket when something goes wrong and I am the IT Department.  Now I have a dilemma. I've solved our internet issues AND I'm still keeping the hotspots until I know FOR REAL that this is going to work. After I know For Real, then I will pare down our internet account so I'm not paying for the cell phone company's Turks & Caicos vacations.

I mentioned to Kevin that I wasn't going to switch the parents because too much hassle.  I have to choose my battles these days.  Kevin balked a tiny bit and I accquiesced: If it turns out the best thing ever then I'll consider it.  It's $45 monthly for DSL versus only $25 monthly for their internet. But the possibility of the internet not being broken again is enticing.  

Then I remembered someone here on the bloggity mentioned that maybe a landline phone isn't a terrible idea for the parents.  It's up for discussion again because we're hearing "She doesn't answer her phone" more and more.  The issue being: one more technological thing to teach them and we would still have to pay for their cell phones. 

Okay, where was I?  Oh, the internet is broken.

My mother-in-law phoned to tell me the internet is broken.  I'd been working all day so I told her I'd be over there in a little while.  An hour and some deep breathing exercises later, I went over.  I masked up because I had just been to my office and we saw the kids this weekend.  She is 100% surprised that a) I masked up and 2) that I went to work.  (she'll regularly ask Kevin "But you showered, you can come in?")

First she said that it hasn't been working for a few days.  When I sternly mentioned for the eleventieth time that she needs to let us know, she amended it to it just started.  "But you just said it has been a few days".  At this point my father-in-law heads outside.  I don't blame him.   Oh and CNN is still on SHOUT.

She counters with "But sometimes I don't realize that it's not working!"  To which, I repeated "But you just said that it's been a few days."  Then I regained my sanity and stopped talking.

I took everything into the shop and fixed her internet.  It was just slow because all.of.the.reasons. However, she does use a truckload of data.  In this instance, she has tapped out all of her data and it doesn't replenish until Monday.  She has her tablet on constantly and usually it's games playing, even if she's not paying attention.  Essentially, she's a pacman of data.  We cannot get her to grasp the whole "Turn it off when you aren't using it" thing.  It's like raising teenagers, for real though.

When you reach a data cap, this is what the teenager at the phone store told me: To circumvent the system, buy a separate SID card and switch it out when the data limit is reached.  GENIUS.  He said that gamers do this all the time so then I felt a little cool. (not really)  Instead of a $35 one-time boost, it's a $20 charge that renews each month if you use it.

With the change of internet provider, I now have spare SID cards.  I switched hers out and declared it "fixed."  Because there is zero way to tell her that she's exceeding her limits without there being some sort of melodrama.  "I'll pay for it"  "I won't play my games" or the chestnut: "It wasn't me who used all the data."  I did remind her that the internet will just be slow now for a while.

Meanwhile, I didn't tell her that I noticed she personal messaged a realtor in Maryland.  Because no, she didn't. The realtor had not responded so that's good.  She had also friended her grand-daughter's best friend's teenaged son.  I'll be undoing that tomorrow.  And her daughter-in-law's (not me) crackhead brother.  (I literally call him "Crackhead Bob."  

Oh, and look, this is what her social media looks like every single time I log into it:

                                                

Let's sum up:

Keep trying with different providers in your area if you live in banjoland like I do.  Things do change.

Buy extra SID cards if you have data-limits on your device

If your wi-fi is not great, use an ethernet cable instead. (they come in 50 ft. lengths)

Mask up. Yes, even if you just showered.

This is me when I'm over-caffeinated. 

Two Outta Three

One of the things to know about me is that I tend to go head-long into things without thinking them through or fully paying attention.  This makes me super fun to live with, for sure.

This week though, man.  Consequences of my own in-attention.  

It was a busy week; full of work, projects, and errands.  I haven't had one of those kinds for weeks for a while so it was fun but a little dizzying at the same time.  

So, the other day I was going into the grocery store.  Hurrying, not paying attention, and tripped on my own feet.  Only I could trip on my own feet.  Down I go onto the sidewalk.  Bounced right back up like nothing happened and proceeded into the store.  Thank you adrenaline.  Also, if you don't look: you're not hurt.  (remember this in a minute)

First off, when I broke my foot off my leg, they taught me in physical therapy not to use my broken leg/foot to catch myself if I ever fell. This is intended for me not to rebreak anything.  Yeah, that didn't stick in my brain.  (it's all good, no need for worry)  I'm thankful that it didn't because I ended up with just a skinned elbow and a scratched phone case.  It coulda/shoulda been a little worse.

But it's still not great:

I feel silly because who falls anymore?  ME.  I look like a six-year-old with skinned elbows and/or bandaids on my arm.  One doesn't realize how much you use an elbow until you take the skin off of it.

Now fast forward ONE DAY.  Just one.  Remember I said that I had ideas about the garden?  Well, I started on it and it required more 4-8 rock like I used before.  I finished one section then decided to begin the other part of the project.

This was the day that I had to work here at home, go into the office, run errands and take Lucy for walkies.  This is where I say again that I might not have been paying attention.

I wear these really great gloves that were given to us that are thin but grippy.  The problem with being my size is that gloves are always too big for me.  I was wearing gloves though.  I was trying to be safe.

A particularly big rock was being placed on the path I'm making when it shifted.  I felt it go and pulled my hand back just in time for my glove to catch between the rocks and thusly my finger.  

At first I thought "Well, that didn't feel good but it could have been worse..." and began to work again. But a few minutes later, I thought...."Is that...blood?"  So I reluctantly took off the glove.  Like Kevin said "Nothing is more scary than taking off your glove because you think there's blood."  Yeah buddy.

There wasn't blood.  Well, there was, just not outside of my skin.  My finger had immediately swollen, blackened, and bruised.  Go figure.

Like a little kid, I was fine until I saw that I was actually hurt.  Then I got a little mad because that is the correct response for this situation.*shaking my head*  *hello trauma response*    I went into the house, grabbed an ice-pack and sat down with my hand above my head for fifteen minutes.  And pouted.

Oooh boy did it swell up.  The skin was super tight and I thought I was going to have to call Kevin.  But I kept flexing my hand, took an ibuprofen, and went back to work.  Like you do. 

By the end of the day, it looked like this:

It's sore but not broken. I think the bruise is going to be there for a while and the fate of the fingernail remains uncertain.  It's darker today.  (the black on the other fingernail is paint. I only hit the one finger)

My elbow is actually the thing that hurts worse.  Go figure.

I believe that things come in threes.  I've had this proven to me too many times to discount.  I'm on number two so I'm waiting for number three.  I'm out of rock for now so not to worry. I was going to finish paint the tool shed today but it feels like that should maybe wait.

Stop and Listen

Sweet Baby was here for a visit yesterday.  His dad was helping next door with a project and his mom had the new puppy with her so it was a really good visit all around.  A much needed respite in these End Times.

He's nearly five (GASP) and pretty independent.  His parents are of the free-range mindset so I wasn't surprised when he wandered over to our house, twice, by himself.  

*It really occurs to me with this post that I can't continue calling him Sweet Baby.  I will call him Five because he is number five in naming succession. (As in John Anthony Smith the Fifth.)  That was his original prenatal nickname anyway*

The first time I heard him coming because there is nothing quiet about an almost five-year-old boy.  I called out "Is that Five!?!"  

"It's me!  I'm here!  Where are you Auntie Surely?"

I was painting the tool shed and I put everything down to go spend time with him. I knew the paint would be ruined when I returned but I was ready to be done anyway.  And, you don't say no to an almost five-year-old when they want to see you. 

We walked next door to see the puppy, he got his bike to ride, and we all had a small visit.  Then he headed off to see his other (great) grandpa with his mom and grandma.

Almost two hours later, I am now working in the garden.  Kevin was next door and I hear footsteps in the gravel.  "Auntie Surely! Where. Are. You!?!" I called out to him and he came around the house to find me in the garden.  

Tens of questions later and after crawling on the rocks, he sits down on the lawn.  He calls Lucy over to him and she came.  She is not a fan of children so this is unusual. (not a mean bone in her body, just not interested in the ear and tail pulling stage)  

"Come down and sit with me" Five says.

"Let me finish this one thing" I reply as I'm wrestling a five-gallon bucket of mulch.  

"Come down and sit with me" he repeats, a slight tone of impatience/want.  Not whining because he knows that doesn't work but a genuine want of me to stop what I was doing and sit with him.

Something in my head clicked and said "You don't pass this up. He won't be Almost Five for long."

I made my way down and sat with him in the grass.  I expected that he would spring back up and want to play because Almost Five.  He didn't.  He indeed wanted to talk and pet Lucy, who tolerated it.

I'm a little amazed at this point because he's old enough to have a conversation with but young enough that they're usually fleeting.  But he's in so I'm in.

At one point, he just plainly asked "Where is your dad?"  

He's never met my dad as he passed in 2009, almost seven years prior to his birth. I never talk about him.  It's been almost two years since he went swimming at my parents house. There really was no connection at all.  It also wasn't in context with anything we were talking about.  We had been talking about bugs.  "Callerpallers" to be exact.  

I stalled because that's always a tough one to answer to children.  The kids (his parents) have a direct approach with these things so I followed their lead.  "He's not here, he died"

This was followed with "How did he die" and "Why?"  I explained that he got very sick and sometimes that happens, especially when you are old.  He took that on face value, paused, "Oh." and thought about it.  Then we talked about other things until he was ready to go.

So, here's the thing.  The anniversary of my dad's death was Wednesday. It passed with barely a notice from me and none from my family.  Kevin and I have made jokes about my dad "hanging around" the house in the past and now  I'm wondering if he made a visit yesterday.  

Five seems to be an old soul who would notice these things.

My point is Listen.  Stop and Listen when they ask you to.  These moments are fleeting.

I'm sad this is blurry but happy that I can use it here because it's blurry

Cooking For Dummies - Lasagna Edition

 If you've read here for a while or know me in real life, you know that I am not a cooker.  Like, super not a cooker.  It's never been a skill I've enjoyed so I've never cultivated it.  I'm 100% better than when I was young, of course, and we eat pretty healthy for two people who eat like six-year-olds.

One of my "goals" this year of The End Times was to try to learn new meals.  I've met that with mild success. I can make enchiladas, mexican casserole, and chicken parmesana without - to quote Kevin - "screwing it up".  Before you get impressed, let me tell you the recipes are the Cooking for Dummies versions. I am winning no contests.

Along with that goal, I subscribed to a few emails to help achieve it.  One of the most recent emails contained a slow cooker lasagna recipe.  Hmmm, I thought.  We like lasagna.  Slow cooker works for August-so-not-using-the-oven-cooking.  So I bought the ingredients in the next grocery order.

Three weeks later and today is the day. Apparently.

The thing with the slow cooker is that it requires Time Management.  As discussed previously, I don't have that.  Also, it requires stopping what I'm doing mid-day to think about dinner and I'm not down for that.

My best friend likes to ask me "What's for dinner?"  which is one of my least favorite questions. They are also the cook in their family and they also don't enjoy that question so it's in solidarity. Also, Kevin asks it when he phones to tell me he's on his way home.  For both of these people, the answer is usually unsurprisingly"I don't know."  Unless it's Tuesday, then it's Tacos. Duh.

Anyway, off topic.

I had to work today in my actual office so I pre-planned to try to make the lasagna recipe today. (whew, that was passive voice all.over.the.place.)

NOTHING STRESSES ME OUT MORE than learning how to cook something new.  NOTHING.  Parent hospitalizations, burying Lucy's kills, Current Political Situation. Nothing.  I hate it.  Gah. I employed my Calm the Eff Down tactics and made myself just do it.

I brought up the recipe on my phone. I don't know why I didn't use my laptop.  I just didn't.  It would have been easier but here we are.

I put all the ingredients on the counter.  I got out the slow cooker.  Yes, I have one, calm down. It was a wedding gift, but I have one.

Took a deep breath and began to assemble ingredients.  I spun out a little from Go, because I needed a mixing bowl and didn't have one.  

Sorry, another side story: I had the PERFECT mixing bowl when I was married to Satan.  I used it for everything.  Popcorn, mixing, everything.  And my impulsive/angry dumb ass Left It Behind.  I have never found another one like it.  So: no large mixing bowl.  Again: I don't cook and I super don't bake.

Wait, I googled it. It was like this, sorta:

(I should probably buy it now...)

I made do with just a little bit of a mess.  I hate messes so that added to the angst of this experiment.

And then: I realized that I didn't have enough mozzarella cheese.  I would swear that I bought some but nope.  Luckily....prepare to laugh...I had extra Mexican cheese.  So, the final layer had Mexican -style shredded cheese.  I am nothing but multicultural.  What could possibly go wrong?  Cheese is cheese. More cheese the merrier.  Okay, I'll stop now.

All in all, it is an easy recipe.  It's just not easy when I'm all up in my head trying to learn something new.  It's now slow cooking on the counter and I am prepared to go buy burgers at the tavern if it's a miserable failure.  

Oh, and I'm cutting it close for it being ready at "dinner time" because (see above) I can't manage my time well. AND Kevin just phoned to let me know that he might be home early; which NEVER HAPPENS EVER.

I will say that the oven-ready/no boil lasagna noodles are just disconcerting.  It's like little plastic sheets.  I had to suspend my disbelief that they were real and just go with it.

Now, we wait.  We'll see how the "easy" slow cooker lasagna hybrid turns out.  I have no predictions.

*singing the Jeopardy song*

The house smells good so I've got that going for me.  I looked under the lid because we are at hour three out of 3.5-4.5 hours.  It looks...soupy.  I'm wondering if more noodles were needed but I FOLLOWED THE DAMN DIRECTIONS.  

The directions also said that it would be ready in that time frame but the comments said it would be ready earlier so we're playing the cooked/overcooked lottery.  This is a familiar game to me.

*More jeopardy song*

Kevin came home and asked the dreaded what's for dinner question.  "I made lasagna" I answered but he was already distracted with the racecar and only replied a non-committal "Oh."

Finally it was dinner time. Kevin helped set the table, which is unusual and actually matches with the way things are going today.  I set the pot on the table and sighed.  "Let's see how this turned out."

Kevin looks at the pot skeptically.  "Wait. Did you MAKE this?"  "No" he continues, answering his own question before continuing "Yes? Did you...did you... make this?" he says incredulously.  "You little badass" he says when I confirm that I did indeed make this.  (he has an odd complimentary style, you get used to it)

Lifting the lid, it does still appear soupy.  But it smells good.  I begin to cut into it and it seems...okay.  I dished up Kevin and myself and sat down.  Unusually, Kev is waiting for me to take the first bite.  "You promised burgers if it's not good."  I'm not sure if he's rooting for success or failure at this point.

I took a bite and surprisingly, it was GOOD.  Kevin took a bite and...

"OMG" he exclaims  "This is really EFFING GOOD.  You didn't f&%k it up! It's really good!"

He takes another bite and confirms his first opinion.  "It's like my NEW FAVORITE THING. OMG."

Despite the Mexican style shredded cheese substitution and the confirmed fact that more noodles are needed than suggested in the recipe, this was a big success.  WHEW.  

To quote one of my friends: We Can Do Hard Things. Even if hard things are defined as making lasagna.

(if you're interested, this is the recipe: Slow Cooker Lasagna)

First Day of School

Okay, so.  Start Up is when my work begins the "term year".  Think of it as when teachers go back to school a month before the actual first day of school.  Start Up is usually the second week of August.  Time is irrelevant now but that was two weeks ago.  Technically, I am two weeks into the new school year.

The zippy twist is there is no "school" until January 4th, 2021.  There is no direct service with families until then.  However, MY requirements remain the same. Mostly.  (for those of you who forgot/don't know: I ensure that birth-to-five year old kiddos have current well-child and dental exams, current immunizations, and lead screening. And other stuff.)

If we remember way back at the beginning of the End Times that I had to work no less than fifteen minutes and no more than two hours.  At Home.  I know, it's a very unreasonable demand.  

Now because Start Up, I can work as much as my caseload requires/allows.  It has the potential to be more than two hours but not sustainably so.  On the regular, my caseload is just under 400 kids and working with five advocates from different parts of the program.

This year, however, my caseload is about half of that. At first I was all Thank you sweet tiny 8lb 6 oz baby jesus.  Then I realized: then what am I going to be doing with all the "free" time?  

The answer is something and nothing.  I can only work as my caseload allows so I have to manage my time accordingly.  The fun part of that is the A.D.D. is not so much down with time management.  In my brain: it's an all or nothing proposal.    For example: I have a file full of documents to process.  My brain is yelling at me that they're just SITTING THERE.  However, I'm tapped out of time for today.  Still, my brain is all "Helllooo...file. Sitting there. Needing stuff. Do it. DO IT."

What I didn't see coming is now I'm required to have Office Hours.  I have to be in my (empty) office for up to two hours weekly; to be available to advocates and staff.  The ones who are ALSO working from home. Sooo...yeah.  This is well-planned.

Today was the first day.  There was a manager and a teacher there, neither of whom needed me.  I spent the morning catching up with the manager and decorating my empty office.  I'm sure that as we progress, people will be around but that was just a waste of time.  Other than I finally have stuff on the walls of my office, (it only took one year).   

I had mentioned the transition back to peopling being a rough one.  Today was better.  I actually looked forward to having a schedule, getting ready, and interacting with people. I wore actual grown-up clothes. This morning had the actual feel of Back to School.  

 Now I'm home and the feeling has worn off. I'm ready to be back in my cozy cocoon again. I'm barefoot and in shorts and a t-shirt again. But I'm not exhausted like I was the last time.  I have work to do tomorrow and one day a week that I don't have to worry about time management.

Welcome to the New School Year.  Nothing is as it should be.

Next Time I'm Writing the Check

 About this time yesterday, we were officially done painting the exterior of our house.  It was estimated that it would take about one weekend, if we worked straight through.  Anyone who knows us knows that is simply not gonna happen.  And it didn't.

It took two weekends, not working straight through, and time over the work week.  It's a small house so we estimate that the prep time may have taken longer than the actual paint time.  Like HVAC when building a house, prep time isn't visible or immediately gratifying however.

So, let's begin at the beginning, shall we?

We were supposed to paint the house last summer and we didn't.  There was just too much going on in the family, work, racecar, and as we remembered this weekend: wildfire smoke.  And just who we are as people has to be noted.  

Then we got a bid from neighbors for just painting the house, we would do the prep work.  $1800.  So after a milli-second of consideration, we agreed we would do it ourselves.  There are just other ways we would rather spend that kind of money.

I powerwashed the entire house over two days, which is so satisfying and gratifying.  It really is one my favorite chores.  This is where I discovered that we could probably get away with painting just the gutters and trim for at least another year.  Kevin said that wasn't an option though.

There is a spec house that we both really like the paint palette...paint scheme...paint job?  I took a crappy photo over a year ago so we could replicate it:

It was different enough to make it worth painting but not a huge overall change.  Kevin and I must have gone around one hundred times about painting gutters, the door, which color went where.  I even sent him photos:

One would think that this helped, it did not. I don't know why.  It could be his dyslexia, it could be anxiety. I just know murder was on the table.  It did not pass my notice that the intended trim color was a lovely shade of cappuccino, keeping with our coffee paint scheme.  Oh, and off  topic a bit: everyone called the trim color a different color.  My father-in-law-in-law (not a typo) thought it looks purplish.  My s-i-l called it olive.  Kevin just kept calling it brown.  

One of Kevin's guys is a contractor.  He said to go to Sherwin Williams for paint.  This is where I tell you that Kevin will often get names wrong, sometimes on purpose and sometimes not. One never knows which.  He kept calling it Sherwim Phillips, which made me laugh every single time.

(SIDE NOTE:  The habit of purposefully saying names wrong spins out my sister-in-law. She hates it SO MUCH.  There was a restaurant called Johnny Carinos and Kevin called it Jonny Gringo.  Woo boy did she hate that. So then it could never be Johnny Carinos ever again. Anyway...)

So, we decided a color theme. We had most of the prep work done.  Then Kevin had to work on a Saturday because of course.  He suggested that I just go get samples of the above paint card and we'd go from there.  He gave me the can of original paint we had to match, because he thinks of these kinds of things.

I went in the morning, hoping to beat the rush and was rewarded with a young guy who was willing to babysit me.  He agreed that the colors would match, he didn't upsell me on paint or tools or services, and gave me exactly what it would cost.

Oh, and I had already looked for coupons and sales and how much estimated paint we would need so for once I was prepared.

Next thing I know, I am bringing home five gallons of coastal green (I think) and two gallons each of the accent colors.  More paint than we needed but I am a big fan of not having to back into town in the middle of a big project. And paint keeps so we're set when it's time to touch up everything.

I took a photo of the receipt and texted it to Kevin.  Three...two...one...and my phone rings.  "I, uh, thought we were only getting samples today?" with a tinge of fear in his voice.  I laughed because silly boy should really know better than that.  I am one of few who impulsively buys large amounts of custom paint. You're welcome.

"We know what we want, I found it and I bought it.  If I don't, it will be next summer before we paint the house."   "Okay..." replies Captain Skeptical.  

We started with basic colors and trim package, fifteen years ago:

We thought it was cute and charming fifteen years ago.  Now we're all *yawn, boring*

There are 16 shutters on this house.  Nothing will test your patience and perseverance like painting shutters. There may have been tears, definitely cursing and tantruming.  I did those while Kevin was at work so I could just zone out and get it done.  It took three days.  THREE.  And there was still needed touch-up when we hung them. 

Note that Kevin will hate this photo because things are in disarray and unfinished. That is my point.

AND THEN, we have park benches at the end of the house where we park. Kevin mentioned that the darker green might look good on them so I gave them a quick coat.  It did NOT.  So, like, NOT.  This found me on the following Monday at the hardware store buying more paint.  I will save those photos for the end as not to spoil the Big Reveal.

Oh, and hooray for impulsiveness.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.

While Kevin was at work during the week, I worked on the trim.  It required the little ladder so it was mostly okay.  Anything requiring the big ladder was automatically designated as Kevin's.  For those of you keeping track: shutters and most of the trim.  All said and done, about three work-days worth of painting, not chronological.  For me.

Then I started to roll paint the body of the house as far as I could reach; I am five foot, three inches tall.  Dude, it was not even to the halfway part.  I could only reach about one-third of the house.  So much for a good deed.  Kevin was pleased still though because that was one-third that he didn't have to do.  (I took photos but you really can't tell, sadly)

It was mentioned a few times in conversation that my sister-in-law painted their whole house a few summers ago.  Alone.  (because Kevin's brother is a .... piece of work, shall we say)   Their house is over 1,600 square feet and elevated.  Ours is 1,200 at most and not elevated.  She is tougher than I am, for sure. Over the weekend, I told Kevin "You can BET that if it were me, I would mention that on the DAILY.  Remember when I painted the ENTIRE HOUSE by myself?"   

Anyway, Kevin was super appreciative of all the work I did.  Even if I did have to push back (twice) on the whole "While you're home during the day" mindset.  Home doesn't equal free time right now, buddy.

To be fair to Kevin also, his part was super sketch.  He had to use an industrial ladder to reach the peak of three gables and NO THANK YOU. I will take shutters over being fifteen-to-twenty feet in the air for $1,000 Alex.

We work pretty well together too.  It's like the shop remodel was the rehearsal.  I'm glad that it ended up that way, even accidentally.  Not that we'll ever have to do this whole thing again.  Next time I am so writing the big check.  

And now for the big reveal:

Coastal Plain is the body color, Tactile is the trim color and Retreat is the shutter color.

And finally: the bench mistake

Pro Tip: Oil based latex high endurance paint does not easily come off of your skin.  I'm just saying.

At the end of the day, Kevin mused that the shop and tool shed was next.  *record scratch*  Through all of this, it had NOT OCCURRED to me that the outbuildings would also need painted.  Sigh.  Luckily, the exterior of the shop has recently been done so it's "only" four shutters, trim, and drains.  The little shed will take no time at all.  But still. Way to kill the mood, Kev.

And finally, we cannot decide what color to paint the doors. The trim is tan, the dark green would look odd, I think, and certainly not the light green.  I'm leaning toward black because we know I love black.  Right now both doors have screen/storm doors and are white.  The contractor suggested leaving them white due to maintenance and the contrast in color.  Right now: no decision is our decision.

What's next? you might be wondering.  Well, with this project, the garden has been neglected.  Kevin is bringing me topsoil and bark tonight.  He'll bring another load of rocks when I'm ready because I have *ideas*.

In My Bubble

 One of my friends on the social media is a progressive liberal and I watch their posts with interest.  They help me to determine when to be worried about something, when there's something to actually be done, and when something is simply hyperbole.

They are taking the pandemic/quarantine issue really seriously and I've used them for guidance when making decisions.  Wearing masks before it was mandated, self quarantining if they do go on an adventure, etc.  Something they said gave me context with trying to wrap my mind around this situation.

My friend calls this the Germ Bubble.  They allow X amount of people into their germ bubble.  While i would have maybe named it something a little less graphic, I like it.  In my brain it's a visual representation of my interactions.  Kind of like a Venn Diagram, but not.

I see Kevin, his parents, my bff, and only go to the grocery or hardware store.  Oh, and the coffee stand, because: essential.  So, let's say I see On the Regular: four people. If we mix in my workplace: Add two. At the Max: I see ten people if we estimate store interactions.  

Of course, we've gone to the burger place where everything is outdoors.  We've gone to the park.  To me those don't necessarily count as interactions because outside, masked up when appropriate, and social distancing.  It's been WEEKS since I've hugged Nephew and Sweet Baby so that was just a one-off situation.  

So: ten people.  Max.  On average.  (math is hard so feel free to correct my estimations. Seriously)

We have made an effort to keep my bubble small.  Kevin, because he goes to work, has a remarkably larger bubble.  However, his work is predominately outside and working independently.  While he interacts with more people, it's not like he snuggles them.  And like the statement during the AIDS crisis, this rings true: their exposure is your exposure.

We still have not gone into a restaurant.  We've gone twice to one that has outside seating in the marina and to the drive-in.  But I am not comfortable going INTO one yet.  I never would have thought I'd become that cautious but here we are.

It's been almost six months of this.  It feels normal to me now.  It feels odd/scary to me when I see others not quarantining/social distancing.  Or, let me clarify: not doing it as much as I would.  Although there are a few who are apparently pretending that this is all done now.  Which brings me to the family.

Kevin's parents have decided that they can't "live in fear" anymore and want to venture out to the store, etc. (like this hadn't already happened, I suspect)   Kevin was incredibly blunt and told them that if they do, they know the consequence. And that the consequence is if they do get it, they are dying alone in the hospital.  DUDE.  

AND STILL they want to go out.  Sheesh.  Yet, I haven't seen them go anywhere so I wonder if it's ask for forgiveness versus permission.  Or they changed their minds after all.  Who knows.

In my family, the cousins had a campout and invited us.  Sigh.  I guess it was outside so that's good.  But still.  This would be allowing a significant amount of people into the bubble, albeit while being outside

One of the niece's birthdays was this weekend and of course the family wanted to gather.  I was again put into a position of boundaries and decisions with my family.  I'm so frustrated with that whole situation.  It's a group of people who should absolutely KNOW BETTER.  

"Luckily" we had a contractor coming to inspect our house/gutters and he was only available that day.  Also, we're trying to paint the house exterior before the weather changes and/or we lose interest.  We weren't able to go, but it just kicked the whole conversation down the road temporarily.

Anyway, my point being is the visual of a germ bubble helps me keep perspective, yet increases the risk of making me a germaphobe.  Also, that it's easy to lapse into judgement while watching how others are handling this very odd situation.  Finally, that it is really making me look at personal interactions and their worth to me.

Work of course, is a non-starter.  I have little choice there and am incredibly lucky. Kevin is a constant but upon reflection, I've seen his habits change as well.  Seeing my BFF is a compromise but the toll on the mental health aspect is worth the risk.  (and their germ bubble is small) I don't really miss restaurants or shopping.  

Which leaves my family. This pandemic has given me a reason to distance myself and overall I think that's a good thing.  Perhaps when this is all over, my distance will be the normal and not unusual.  

And when this is done, we can change the bubble's name from Germ to something else.  If it wasn't the End Times, I would have a clever alternative but my brain is full.  Open to suggestions!

Don't Make Assumptions

Kevin is the manager at his work.  There are fifteen guys on his crew; plus drivers and other workers who aren't his direct responsibility YET because of their location within the site, he is responsible for.

He has some young men on this crew and this hasn't gone without challenges for him.  It is literally their first big boy job.  They have little experience with being required to be on time, on task, not on their phone.  Also, more difficult to teach sometimes: they need training on what's appropriate for the work environment and what's not.  For instance: what's considered banter and not sass, how grown-ass-men communicate versus a teenager, and problem-solving and personal responsibility when things go wrong.

Also, Kevin had to adjust his approach to communicate with these youngins.  If they called him "Sir", it rubbed him the wrong way and I not-too-gently told him to get over it.  We talked about how it's his job to give them the boundaries and initially help them to navigate them.  (being on time, on task, and such) Also, reminders that they're so young.  I usually say "Oh, he's still a baby." which prods him to remember they're YOUNG.  

One of them calls him Mr. Kevin.  He was a little WTH about that.  I just laughed and said "He was raised in childcare.  He's been trained to refer to adults like that and especially if you don't like being called sir." 

So, there's the backstory.

Carter is eighteen.  This is his first job, let alone his first big boy job.  Everything is new to him.  It's been a struggle as he discovers how to move about in this environment.  Kevin has come home with his hair on fire because Carter did or said something these past few months.  That being said, he is growing into the job.

Kevin phoned about an hour ago and said "Don't jump to conclusions but..."  

I assumed it was going to be about his brother and was pleasantly surprised it wasn't.  INSTEAD, he says:  "How serious is chlamydia?"

Ummm, what now?

Carter came to him to let him know he had to leave a little early for a doctor appointment.  He had received a phone call over the weekend that he had been exposed and needed STD testing. 

There are a lot of layers there. Let's unpack:

Kevin let him know that in the future he didn't need to know the REASON for the doctor appointment.

He then advised him to let his job partner know.  Carter thought he meant to let him know about the STD.  "No" Kevin says "That you're leaving early. No one needs to know about the other thing." (As Kevin is telling me this, I am laughing and yelling "YES!!! Let him know WHY!!!!")

Then Kevin phones me to see how big of a deal this was.  I explained that on a scale, it's not that that big of a deal.  My question was "WHY WASN'T HE SUITED UP?!?!?!"  Kevin laughed uncomfortably and said "I'm not asking him that."  AND, I added, that perhaps he should choose his partners a little more carefully.

It turns out that it did come up again as Kevin let him know that the disease wasn't a big deal like HIV, Herpes or Hepatitis.  He did ask him why he didn't suit up.  His response: "That is a good question."

Sigh.  CARTER.

Kevin advised him none too gently that he needs to every.single.time.  And that they weren't talking about this ever again.  

We're assuming that this is falling under "Other duties as required" on Kevin's job description.