Another Awful Day

So we had another awful day in the series of awful days. 

We had to put our dog down yesterday.  I wish that it was because she was thirteen years old or because she was sick.  Instead, we had an accident.

The dogs, Missy & Lucky, always run along side of the vehicles when we come up the driveway.  Yesterday as I was going from one house to the next in the 4runner, both dogs were running next to me.  I don't know what happened but somehow Missy got in front of my truck and I hit her.  I never saw her, she usually runs alongside the door.

I stopped and got out while she yelled at me then she laid down in the driveway.  I called Kevin and then called his dad.  While Kevin came home, his dad helped me try to figure out how badly she was hurt.  Then my sister-in-law's father also came up to sit with us. 

Missy didn't complain, she just laid down and tried to catch her breath.  I called the vet who, of course, wanted us to bring her down.  As I was talking to Kevin on the phone, Missy got up, walked over to me, and stood.  She let me pet her for quite a little while before laying back down by my feet.

Kevin got home and Missy got up to see him.  He petted her, trying to figure out what was wrong.  We backed the parents van up to her to take her to the vet and this superhero of a dog helped us put her in the van.   She couldn't jump up but she sure tried.

We drove down to the vet and on the way, Missy sat up and began to watch out the window.  Her tail would wag a little when Kevin called back to her.  I began to think that she was going to be fine.

The vet actually crawled into the back of the van with Kevin to check out Missy.  His name is Jason and he seems like a great person.  He said that Missy was having troubles breathing and he would take her for an exam and x-rays. 
Kevin and Jason wrapped Missy up and took her into the exam room. 

Missy is an alpha dog, she doesn't like other dogs - other than Lucky - but she likes people.  I think she thinks she is a people.  But at the vet, she is the most passive dog on the planet.  She actually kind of snuggled against the vet when he took her. 

It took about twenty minutes for the exam and the vet came out.  He showed us the x-ray to show us her injuries.  She had broken ribs and internal damage.  Even if she was a young dog, her prognosis was dire.

Again, Jason the vet is a wonderful person.  He just presented the facts then simply stated that it was in Missy's best interest to be put down. 

Kevin just lost it.  I was already crying and the vet had to swallow hard a few times as well.  He left us in the exam room and we left shortly thereafter.

I feel awful.  I can't believe that it happened and I can't believe that I was the one that hit the dog. On the other hand, I'm glad it was me and not Kevin.  He would never forgive himself, not that I think I ever will.

Goodbye you crazy, old dog

A Glimmer of Happy in the Drama

The kids came up to see their dad for the first time in three weeks on Sunday.  They, of course, came over to see us as well.  After awhile they went outside to play.

Hide and Seek is still popular with them and they love playing it up here where there are three houses to hide around, under, inside.

Boy Little came through the house as a shortcut to hide from his brothers, in one door and out the other.  Kevin was sitting watching television and looked at me like "What the..." but I just laughed because it happened many times when they lived here.  Oh, and they're six.  (almost seven)

A little while passed then the other Boy Little came into the house.

"Kewin, can I hide in here from them?"

"Yes, where are you going to hide?"

"In here..."  Here was our bedroom.  Kevin said "No, buddy, come out here. We'll make sure they don't see you."

He reluctantly came and hid between the couch & coffee table, in front of me.  Our living room has lots of windows so it was a wise choice.  I moved the coffee table & put my feet up so if his siblings did come looking, he wouldn't be so obvious.

While we were waiting, we talked.  "Who is playing?" 

He listed all his siblings except the eldest.

"Where is he? In the house, being lame?" I asked.

He sighed, knowingly and replied "Most likely."

Then sure enough, C-2 came in looking for his brother.  Kevin distracted him then sent him on his way.

"You owe me, punk."  (Kevin calls the littles punks and it makes them/me laugh)

Boy little was quiet for a beat then tentatively said - from his hiding place - "What do I owe you?"

Kevin said "I don't know but it's going to be BIG."

Boy was quiet for a minute then quietly said "But, I don't have anything..."

(I know, right?  Killing me with the cuteness.)

Kevin said "Well, I'm sure you have something.  You have toys."

Boy thought about it a minute and said "I don't have anything and you don't Want my toys so..."  His tone getting braver with each word.

How did we ever live in a world without these kids? 

Seriously

Well the fun just keeps rolling along here.  As we made plans to have our nephew come home to his parents house on Saturday, our sister-in-law was in a horrible car crash on Friday.

No one, including us, can BELIEVE that this is happening so it's okay if you call me a liar.

My sister-in-law was injured but so, so, so lucky to be alive.  She was hit head on AND rear-ended on the freeway.  A car came from the opposite traveling lanes and hit her head on thus resulting in her being rear-ended by a Chevy truck.

Word to the wise: Honda Accords can really take a hit.  It is virtually unrecognizable but for the passenger compartment.  The airbags deployed as well.  She said she would like to have another one when it's time.  The only reason I recognized the car was the sticker on the window.

Sidebar: we went to find her glasses, which were under the broken drivers seat, in the backseat.  I'm glad we went instead of the b-i-l, it was difficult enough for us.  We debated taking pictures for insurance purposes or morbid curiosity of others but decided against it. Turns out that someone had one from the actual accident scene. *shudder*

She has a broken foot (3 bones), a broken collar bone, a damaged shoulder and knee, a broken rib and a cracked rib, and bruising all over her body, including her sternum.   Unfortunately (in a long line of unfortunatelys) it is the shoulder opposite to the broken foot.  She can do no weight bearing whatsoever (sound familiar?) for six weeks.  The p/t and nurses at the hospital taught her how to manuever in a wheelchair so she can go potty and do her self care stuff.  AND we are still in the maybe category of whether or not surgery will be required for the shoulder.

I teased her that she Way Outdid me.  Way. Outdid.

Now there are two damaged & sick people next door.  I walked in yesterday with supplies and just about burst into tears.  The s-i-l in the recliner with the wheelchair next to her and the Nephew on the couch, both looking miserable, is nearly too much to take.

I wish I had a shiny side to this.  I'm struggling to find one now and I can *always* find a shiny side.  I can only think "At least they are under one roof".

Kitchen Confidential

As we know, I am not a cooker. (as evidenced by my use of the non-word "cooker", which actually reflects my years in early childhood ed, not the lack of cooking skills. Wait, what?)

I've gotten much better over the last few years but it is always going  to be something that turns me into an adult sized toddler.  "I. Can't. Want. To. Make. Dinner." Whine, foot stomp, hand flail.

I do make dinner though, nearly every night.  Here is one thing that bothers me about cooking almost every single time:

Lovely kitchen. Very simple, by design.

It's not like I cook complicated menus but I do have multi-step processes, some requiring spices and measuring cups and such.  This is where I get a little pissy:

Is it just me or does that cupboard door open the wrong way?

Further evidence to show how simply I cook, that small counter space is usually where I do any prep work.  Yes, I have an island and I do use it but mostly this space is where I do everything.  It's close to the stove, to the sink, and to most everything I need.

Because of the home-ec teacher I had in middle school, who hated me upon sight, I have permanently etched into my brain to "clean as I go".  (see that bowl in the sink? brownie mixing bowl)
Add my tendency to leave cupboard doors open, both because of attention span and economy, I constantly feel like I'm going to bonk my head on the doggone cupboard door.

Yes, I realize that it would probably be just as inconvenient if it opened the other way but I'm MORE likely to work toward the sink than I am toward the stove.  I'm sure that says something about my psyche but whatever.

Do anyone of you have these quirky little complaints about your house?  Things that bother you that might not, okay, probably not, bother someone else?  Please say yes.  I'm going to assume you're saying yes.

Andy Rooney Post

Things that frustrate me right now:

Doctor Farmers in small-town hospitals

Dropping a full bowl of oatmeal on the kitchen floor

"I know you're busy but...."  No, no but. Unless it's followed by "...the building is on fire."

Dish Network doesn't have the same channels as Directv so I can't set a channel for the in-laws that they would LOVE.

There are no good grapes anywhere in the Pacific Northwest right now. Sure they look good in the store, but they go to the dark side on the way home.

The words "slippery slope"

This:

Really? dirty dishes in both sinks? Although grateful he clears the table 

An intermittent check alternator light after spending $500 on the forerunner two weeks ago. (not mechanics fault, just luck of the draw)

Yeah, I need a nap. For twelve hours.

Sing to Me

Yesterday was day 31 of The Nephew's hospital stay, post surgery.  Yesterday was also the day that he was transferred to the University of Washington Hospital's Infectious Disease unit.

In preparation of transfer, they walloped him with an antibiotic cocktail, which made him feel worse than ever.  He began shuddering uncontrollably and so we began piling on blankets and cocooning him amongst them.

His mom began stroking his head and hair, one of his favorite things, while I stroked his arm and leg.  He curled up and the symptoms began to wane.  He said something we couldn't hear so I bent down and asked him to repeat it.

"Do either of you sing?"

"What?" I replied then looked at his mom who shrugged.

I thought about it then it dawned on me.  "You want us to sing Soft Kitty!!"

His mom started to laugh and began to sing, I chimed in.  We did okay with the first verse but then forgot some of the second verse.  We tried to muddle through it while his sister whipped out her phone to look up the lyrics.

We sung it twice then he went to sleep.

It was equally lovely and heart-breaking.  I hope he remembers it. I know that I will.

I Ain't No Bitch

The Nephew is still in the hospital, it's like day 4,000 now and we're all totally over it by now.

It hasn't gone without it's moments.  Many of them provided by texting.

He had a particularly difficult day and his uncle Kevin text him to just keep trying.
The nephew replied 'I'm drying."  (wait for it )
Kevin read it as "I'm dying"
He replied "Fuck That."
And then there was radio silence for awhile.

Kevin told me about the exchange, clearly shaken.  The Nephew had admitted earlier to me that he didn't feel like he had much fight in him left and I had expressed similar sentiment.

While on the way home from work later that day, Kevin recalled the story to his brother.   He called the series of texts back up  to read them to him. 

This where he realized that he misread it. "I'm drying" not "I'm dying" and still, clearly wrong.

So Kevin texted the nephew and explained what happened. 

The Nephew replied: "That's not gonna happen. I ain't no bitch".

Atta Boy, keep fighting.

Oh, and Kevin? Pay better attention. M'kay?

Things I Don't Understand

Why do people hate Nickleback?  Perhaps it's because I'm nearly Canadian, I don't understand.  I just don't get it.

Why does Tom Cruise carry that child everywhere?  isn't she like seven years old?
Girl Little would kick our ass before letting us carry her around like a baby.

Waking non-critical care patients up regularly to check vital signs.  Sick people should sleep uninterrupted. Period. Full stop. End of discussion.

The recent spate of poorly-written yet wildly popular books.  I'm looking at you Twilight and Fifty Shade of Grey.

Along the same line as the above: all the television shows that feature nothing but people behaving badly.

Fish tacos.

The concept of designating someone as an infallible man, based on a book that clearly states there is no such thing.

The moustache craze: tattoos, car decals, etc.

People talking on cell phones/bluetooth in stores, etc.  You know we can hear you right?  It's gotten so a person has to play "Talking on bluetooth or schizophrenic?"

Forced Relaxation

My latest adventure is a medical massage.  While I was having this massage, I kept trying to relax but I also kept thinking "I have to remember to write about this."  If I wasn't thinking about that, then I was thinking "You have to stop thinking.  You should just Calm The Hell Down and relax."

I have never had a massage, clearly.  I have trust issues so it has never even been on my list of things to do.  Also, the ADD doesn't seem like a good fit for staying still in one place for 30 minutes. (exhibit a, above)

I was a little skeptical and a bit anxious.  Again, trust issues.  The unknown is always worse than the known.  Also, anticipation of people touching my owie was not something to look forward to.

It was wonderful though.  Let me make a list:

Warmed table
Cozy blankets
Small space
Pleasant street noise
Russian accent
Lavendar

I walked better than I have in a long while afterward.  The massage was similar to the manual manipulation part of physical therapy but not as miserable.  I have an appointment again next week and I'm actually looking forward to it.

So,  the one thing I did not enjoy is the nakey part and this was just partially nakey. But any kind of nakey is not fun for me, unless Kev is involved of course.  I understand that it's necessary, I just don't have to like it. I can rationalize that they are used to nakey bodies but it just doesn't make it any easier.  I'm sure that each time that I go, it will be a little bit easier.  I doubt that I will ever be totally comfortable with it though. 

Anyway, I think I've typed "nakey" enough for a lifetime.

The clinic is above the bay in the historic Fairhaven district so just the drive there is relaxing.  If one could see out the window, it overlooks the bay above the ferry dock. Hardwood floors, pleasant earth tone interior design, a sassy receptionist were also to be noted.

There is also a train track nearby so I listened to the train going by.  This would be disruptive to most people, I think.  I loved it though.  I really liked it also when a lawnmower started up.  Nothing says impending Spring like a lawnmower.  A car passed by with its music blaring and I am still trying to figure out what song it was. So, you know: total relaxation for the ADD.  Lots of noise to entertain it so I could relax.

There was, of course, the asian style music of flutes and chimes playing.  Normally, this music makes me stabby - the exact opposite of it's intent.  I just don't enjoy the sound of it. (obvs.)  But I will admit that it was soothing after time passed and that it becomes just white noise eventually.

I still don't know that a massage would be on my list of things to do with my free time, especially considering that this massage mainly focuses on my leg and hip.  If it was a head-to-toe thing then I'm not so sure.

Although I did feel pretty groovy when I left. Yep, I said it: groovy.

Who is Your Daddy?

We had dinner tonight with Kevin's aunt and old family pictures came up in conversation.

I missed how it started but Kevin's dad was proudly showing pictures in his wallet to his mother  Then Kevin's mom handed Kevin the wallet to show him. Kev took it, looked puzzled then frowned.

He turned the wallet and showed me. I gasped,  laughed then smacked his arm " NO! No that did not just happen!"

Kevin handed the wallet back and said "Oh my God. That is NOT me!"

His dad had been carrying a photo of one of their friends sons. For YEARS. Thinking it was Kevin. His mom even defended him. "Kevin, that's you."

"No Mom it's not me. I , of all people, would know Me!"

The picture is of a boy that is younger than me and I am seven years younger than Kevin. The picture is in full color while his brothers is faded to near sepia. The child in the photo is wearing a polo shirt and Cosby sweater.

In Kevins dad's defense, he was a long haul truck driver and missed a lot of the boys childhoods. But the fact that that Both Parents mistook the wrong picture is the stuff of sitcoms.

His mother finally said "Well you both have such good dark hair."

Intestines on a Table

The Nephew thought that we hadn't spent near enough time in a hospital recently so he decided to need surgery.

Our lovely boy has Crohns disease and it has been kicking him pretty hard recently. He spent a few days in the hospital a few weeks ago and just hasn't been feeling well for a while.

Finally, it landed him in the hospital and with surgery.  They took out an abscess (effing ow) and a small section of small intestine & colon, where the two meet.
He has a pretty decent incision in his belly but not as large as one would think.

They literally took his guts out and worked on them while on a table.  We've been joking that his new band name can be "Intestines on a Table".  Yes, we are a dark bunch.

Today he was supposed to have the epidural taken out but not so much.  I'm a little anxious about his pain levels once that occurs.  Also, we noticed today that it appears he has stitches in his back as well.  (no, not epidural marks but stitches)

The good news of all of this is that he will only feel better from here.  We know for certain that the Crohns hasn't ravaged his organs, which can happen just not now.

But he is six foot two inches tall and walks around at 220 pounds.  He is currently at 160 pounds.  He shoulders are jutting, his jawline is pronounced, and he's got chicken legs.  It's just sad.

More sad is watching the kids - bigs and littles - try to figure this whole thing out and watch his fiancee try to figure out how to be in a relationship with a sick spouse.  She's been a good soldier, tamping down her fear and making everything as right as she can.

It always makes us laugh that nurses and doctors comment "Wow, there are a lot of people here!"  We always say "We can make it worse. One phone call."   Now we can say "We can add five kids if you think it's a good idea."

So, that's where we have been for the last almost two weeks.  Visiting a sick boy in the hospital.  

When we sent The Nephew off to surgery, we each took a moment with him.  I just tried to choke out a cheery "You got this."  Kevin gave him an awkward white boy  fist bump then I noticed that Kev kind of spun around and walked away afterward.  It was his version of taking-a-moment.  He mentioned a little while later while we were alone in the elevator that it choked him up sending him off to surgery.

I told him that of course it did.  "That's our boy too."   He's the closest thing we have to a child. 

You Can Lead a Dog to her Bed

This is not the only story about throwing food that I can tell.

Missy always seems to know when there is a possibility of her getting leftovers from dinner.  We are unsure where she gained these skills and we feel it's probably best not to ask.

We had french fries at dinner tonight. (yes, we are six. shut up.)  When we were finished, Kevin threw a fry from the dinner table to the kitchen floor, close to where she was laying in the laundry room.

It took her a few seconds but she found it.  He continued to toss a few fries for her, finding that he had to throw it where she saw it or she wouldn't find it.  Her hearing is nearly gone now and her sniffer has never been great.  I'm sure she would say she lost it in the war, a la Snoopy, but I really think she never had a good one.

Kevin thought it would be a great idea to throw fries down the hall, leading to her bed.  For about fifty feet, Missy would take a few steps, wait for the fry to fall from the sky as if magically, eat it, then take a few more steps.

This is behavior that I just roll with because really, what's the harm?  And I get a good story out of it.

Finally I hear an unusual sound.  I don't even turn to look because Kevin is laughing.  "It landed on top of the china cupboard."  He says nonchalantly. Then he follows with "WHO DOES THAT!?!?!?"

I just started clearing the table.  Missy went to bed.  We're used to him by now.

Swistle Will Agree

Our friend Swistle is Not A Fan of Poetry.  This is perfectly fine, especially when presented with poetry such as this. With this, I find myself unable to defend poetry at all.  This, dear Swistle, is for your entertainment and mockery:

La Noche

by Anselm Hollo

the wind   let loose in the dark

and the lights of the city   moving

the city is a great dragon   it is a procession

           it is on the move

but the curtains are drawn

the music unheard

see   men and women   preparing themselves

for the long journey across a room

I grew up reading the likes of Frost, etc so this new style of poetry is confusing to me.  Where is the structure, the rhyming, the SENSE?  It seems like the most recent poetry I've read makes me feel like I'm having a stroke, or at very least, high.

Howard Stern, of all people, was discussing poetry shortly after the Inauguration.  He wondered about the same that is stated above upon listening to the poem recited during the ceremony.  His cohort, Robin, postulated that poetry has turned more like prose.

Then I had to go look up what the difference was between poetry and prose. (Hey, I've been out of high school for twenty-cough years)  It seems that it boils down to word count and descriptiveness. Technically, there is supposed to be formatting in poetry but I'm finding that to less and less the case.

Has traditional poetry gone away?  Is it too much to ask for poetry to, you know, actually tell a story and make sense?  I would enjoy some vivid imagery instead of inducing stroke symptoms with its "creativity".

For Rent

This is the message board next to our door.  It rarely is used.  Until about a month ago, it read "Missy was a very good girl. Love, Niece" from three years ago when she took care of the dog while we were in Vegas.

Kevin decided to build Missy a new doghouse on our deck.  She has one that is attached to our shop but Kevin thought she might like a bigger one on the deck where she could see more of the goings-on. 

So he drew me a diagram of what he was thinking.  Later on, I added the "dog" drawing and labeled it Missy's Condo.

Well, the dog sleeps in it only occasionally.  We don't know why.  It's big, it's insulated, and has cozy blankets.  She seems attached to the old dog house.  She's an old dog and you can't teach an old dog new tricks.  Or apparently make her sleep in a new condo.  Also, how optimistic is Kevin to build an old dog a new house?

I noticed Friday that Kevin had added the "for rent" sign onto the drawing.
I then crossed out Missy's name and added Lucky's because he does spend time in there. 

And this is how we spend our time.

I Could Have Had A Baby By Now

This is a little late but the title still applies.

It's been nine months since I fell.  Nine months.  In some ways, it seems like it's been a minute and in others, I'm incredulous that this wildly boring adventure isn't over yet.

I've finished physical therapy now.  My therapist summed it up as "I think we're just torturing you now and while I enjoy that, it's time to stop."  Now you understand why I liked her so much.

I don't have a limp because I Pay Attention.  Kevin says that my walk has changed, especially when I'm tired or sore.  Then he calls me an old woman.  So caring and gentle, this husband of mine.

I am still in sneakers mostly.  I've banished a few pairs of socks.  I don't go into PTSD tremors when I see track pants anymore.  So, progress.

I still can't jog or run, not that was in the realm of possibility before but the mere thought of it makes me cringe and want to sit down.

I am told not to worry about much of anything until at least the first year anniversary and even six months after that so: October.  (I nearly wrote "2013" because I'm still in 2012 because I'm still living it because I missed most of it)
(Also: I decided not to change the grammar nightmare of that sentence because it pleased me in its absurdity.)

I am still not working full time and I've gotten over that.  It's gonna be what it's gonna be and worrying about it is not going to change it.

So that's what is happening here.  What is happening where you are?  

Don't Touch That Dial

I kind of love talk shows.  I think it is because I grew up in the age of the talk show.  Dinah Shore, Merv Griffin, and Mike....I've forgotten his name now...were all on when I got home from school.

Then the shows grew into Phil Donahue and Oprah Winfrey (back in the day when she had a last name) and Ricki Lake. 

*I swear I'm not a 75 year old grandmother with ten cats.*

Now I watch The Talk and Anderson Cooper faithfully every day.  I used to watch Ellen but I tired of the gimmicky comedy element of it and the fact that there were ten guests in twenty minutes.  I can appreciate her but she's just not my preference. I also will record other shows if there is a guest that I really enjoy, including late night shows.

I do have the habit of fast forwarding through guests I don't know or particularly care for though. Sometimes I regret it when I read in the entertainment news that "OMG YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT THEY SAID."  But mostly, I just have other ways to spend my time (a.k.a. other shows to watch)

Tonight I am exhausted.  I've been trying to work full-time and right now it feels like there have been back-to-back full moons at work.  (those of you who work in social services, first responders, or schools understand what I just said)

So I actually did not have the energy to walk the six feet to the remote while making dinner to change the show when Joan Collins came on The Talk.  I am not a Dynasty fan and I'm not a fan of her books so I was not interested in her at all.

But then she told a great story about doing her own stunts and something that Gene Kelly told her. 

AGAIN: I swear I'm not seventy-five years old and own ten cats.

I was happy that I hadn't fast-forwarded past her interview.  It was a great story (to me) and I was glad that I heard it. 

I guess the lesson learned is to stop being in such a hurry and to stop being dismissive of talk show guests that I am not familiar with or fond of because something might happen during that interview to change that.

Yes, I realize the entire reason for talk shows is that last sentence.  It's been a long day.

A Ghost Child

There are few moments in my childhood that were not affected by my dad's drinking.  As an adult, I believe I am just now starting to understand the long term effects of his drinking on my life, and on his.

Certainly I can come up with some happy moments.  Unfortunately they are almost all followed by something that tempered the "happy" right out of  them. 

There is not a family celebration, vacation, or regular family moment that wasn't accompanied with a drink, a word, glance, or body language that could and did ruin everything.

But he didn't have a problem.  He had a lifestyle, he "enjoyed" it.  It was how he chose to live his life, right up until the end.  Unfortunately for everyone else, we were forced to live that lifestyle as well.

The lifestyle for us was a little different though. It was a lifestyle of being quiet, to not draw attention, of being able to predict someone by the way that they walked, talked, stood, or drove.   It was the lifestyle of expecting to be disappointed by people. It was the lifestyle of one day at a time.  Ironically not like AA intends but as a "There's one more day without an outburst. There's one more day until I grow up and get out of here."

While my dad was dying, he said I was always quiet as a child.  I don't think he understood that he was perhaps the cause of my quietness.  Sure, it's part of my personality to be circumspect but it's kind of a the chicken and the egg thing.

He told the story of how I used to come into his shop, a silent little elfin appearing kind of kid. (tiny, glasses, golden haired, often mismatched clothes)  I would sweep or straighten up then leave, often without a word.

I vaguely remember that.  I don't remember when I stopped or why but I can guess. But that's how he remembered me as a child.  A quiet little ghost.

I think that is who I was.  A ghost child. Someone who was always surprised when someone actually saw me.  Someone who just tried to fade into the background and not be noticed.  Someone who lived their life as quietly as possible and tried to just get on to the next part of it.

All because someone lived a lifestyle.  Of drinking.

News & Notes

It's cold here.  Newsflash: it's also winter.  But it's been in the high twenties here for awhile.  We are nearing perma-frost in the yard.

We had the strangest thing happen last weekend.  Massive bird death.  The little chickadee (we think they were) birds were landing on the road then only about half of them would fly back up.  All said and done, within about a two mile length of road, we guess about a hundred birds died.  It was hitchcockian, really.

Our guess is that they must have gotten into something: bad water, old berries, or something man-made.  We don't think it was the cold but it is also further down the list.

So that was horrifying.

Guess what!  The truck is broken again. Let's take a tally: head gasket, clutch, and now something else.  A person could get pissy about this right up until I say that there is nearly 400,000 miles on it.  Then I just shut up about it.

I spent yesterday watching GLEE all day and into the night.  I really wish that show existed when I was in high school, I really do.  I imagine it might have been a game-changer for me.  If you watch it, you probably know what I'm talking about.  If you don't, please watch it.

I had to take an online course about septic systems.  I KNOW, so Glamorous!
But it gets better, I also have to go take another two hour hands-on course as well.
The county that I live in requires this for home-owners with septic systems.  If I want to skip the second course, I can just pay about $250 for someone to come inspect it every three years.  Instead, I can do it myself.

I am still learning how to use my nook tablet.  It has a few glitches that can be frustrating but then I just have to remind myself that it is not a laptop.  Overall, I really enjoy it.

Kevin's mom is still figuring stuff out with hers.  The biggest problem is that she forgets and/or is impatient.  We've been over there twice at 8:00 in the evening to help work out an issue.  We've added amazon and two tabloid sites for her to browse as well.  All-in-all, she's seventy-five years old and using the interwebs so well done her.

I was worried that with Christmas and a limited ability to move that I would gain some weight but to my utter surprise, not so much.  Here's hoping that the rest of this year continues that trend.

Missy doesn't like the sound of gunshots or fireworks.  As she has gotten older, it has given her more anxiety than ever before.  That being said, if we know that there is a chance of loud noises we take precautions with the exception of drugs.

New Year's Eve we spend next door playing games and eating.  We left Missy inside and turned on all the radios in the house, closet all the blinds & curtains and left the lights on.  To no avail.  Some toolbag set off fireworks louder than most of what we used when we did it for a living.  After a few episodes, Kevin decided to go check on Missy.

Yeah, she lost her shit.  Well, not literally.  She tore down the blinds in her room and trashed a few things that were on the window sill.  Kevin said she was pacing the hallway and hyperventilating.  He had to hold onto her when he opened the door or surely she would have been in Texas by daybreak.  This is a first for her so that's not fun for anyone involved.

One of our favorite baristas is developing quite the little drinking problem.  She's college-age so it's a little to be expected that she parties but it's clearly turning into a problem.   Without intention, I mentioned that I don't drink.  She very bluntly said that she gets drunk about two or three times a week.  "But it's a lifestyle, not a problem."   I just let her statement hang in silence.  Partially because I was taken aback and partially because I wanted that pause to maybe make an impact.

As I was driving away, I thought "I could have said something like My dad only got drunk two to three times a week and there's not a moment of my childhood that was wasn't affected.  Or, I've had drinking attempt to destroy my life twice and neither person would ever admit it was a problem."  But truly, she wouldn't have heard me.  It's going to take something truly awful for her to have an opportunity to stop herself.  Hopefully it's not too awful that it just encourages it.

If I ever need something explained to me, I am just going to rely on the internet.  Rachel Maddow, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Cory Booker.  They each have a way to explain complicated things so that a normal human can understand.

Kevin's brother figured out how to cook Benihana style.  Oh.My.Gah.  SO GOOD. Guess what we're having for dinner tonight!

Quote of the Day

"Sometimes a little more effort in our professional, and even personal, choices is required."

Anonymous Commenter #1

Dear Anonymous Commenter #1,

Perhaps apply your own words to yourself.

Oh, and trolls are not welcome here.

Thanks though.

Dressing the ADD revisited

I've written about this before but after this morning, it bears revisiting.

I never plan ahead what I'm going to wear the next day.  I choose my clothing as I'm getting ready for work and often about ten minutes before I leave.  So wardrobe mishaps have happened.  Missing buttons, inside out shirt, a missed stain.  You get the idea.

It suddenly got cold this week.  Low 30's kind of cold, snowing kind of cold.  I work in a 100 year old building with floor-to-ceiling windows cold.

So: Layers.

The ADD doesn't enjoy tight.  I hate anything touching my ribs.  I did find (in Vegas, quite by accident) an UnderArmour undershirt that doesn't make me insane(er).  This = first layer.

I grabbed a pair of heavier cords to wear.  This is where I say I have difficulty discerning between navy blue and black. (how many of you just thought of Father of the Bride?  "Thaht is not blahck, thaht is Nawvy Blew.")

But I rolled with it.  I decided to go monochromatic and grabbed a nawvy blew fitted sweatshirt.  Did you catch that? a fitted sweatshirt.  I KNOW.  But I tried.

Also, I grabbed the wrong pair of underwear.  Ones that don't fit comfortably.  Don't we just Hate That.

Still, rolled with it.  Until I didn't.

I started the station wagon, fed the dog, and was almost walking out the door when I looked at the clock.  This is where if it was a movie, you would hear the record scratch.

I had a few extra minutes.  I turned on my heel and completely redressed.  Different almost everything.  Brushed dark green cords, matching dark green fleece.  Underwear that doesn't make me want to take hostages.

I was still on time for work but Even If I Wasn't = Totally Worth It. I saved lives today.
 
Before you ask the obvious question, wait.  I totally just went and voted the above mentioned offending items from my closet.

 Now, fess up.  What do you have that makes you uncomfortable to wear?