33tekfan’s Weblog

I have been among the missing for awhile. 

We were on vacation last week and work was crazy this week!  Sometimes working from home takes up more hours than if I just went into the office!

So here is a bullet post.

• We rented a big-ass dumpster the week we were on vacation and filled the ENTIRE thing!  We are still waiting for the total bill.
• When planning a trip to Sam’s, it is helpful for one of us to have a Margarita or seven before we go.  If I have the Margaritas, then I don’t care that we walk up and down every single aisle and I don’t bitch.  If the Postman has the Margaritas then he doesn’t care if I am bitching.  This has worked twice for us so far.
• I am typing this on my brand new fancy schmancy Toshiba laptop.  It has taken me about 47 million hours because I keep hitting keys that take me to weird places on the page.  Technologically sound I am not.  I am also prone to exaggeration.
• I have done something to my neck and it is hurting like crazy!  I should take something and try to lay down, but I am too enthralled with my new laptop.  Plus laying (lying?  I never get that one right) down really makes it hurt more.

That’s it for now.  I’ll be back soon (er)!

No man needs a vacation so much as the person who just had one. ~ Elbert Hubbard

Last night I was convinced I was either hallucinating or there were aliens tracking my every move via my dog.

I was very restless after going to bed so I was about to get up and use the bathroom, get a drink of water, flip my pillow to the cool side…but as I was rolling over and opening my eyes I saw a flash of light in our bedroom. I reached for my glasses (because I am blind as a bat without them)…took a look around the room, looked out the window and saw nothing. Except out of the corner of my eye - another flash.

WTF?

I got back in bed, and contemplated my next move. This is the point at which I thought I might be hallucinating. I have been fighting a migraine for a couple of days, and I had taken two pain pills over the course of the last two days. Since we have a habit of overmedicating here at Casa Crazy, I thought maybe I had overdone the pain pills. 

As the flashes continued, I tried to pinpoint where they were coming from.  I realized one was RIGHT NEXT TO ME ON THE BED.  Except…it seemed to be coming from under the covers…where the Hairless Chinese Crested sleeps.  (Yeah…he sleeps with us, under the covers…all the dogs sleep with us because we’re idiots and they are spoiled.  Don’t judge.  He’s the only one who sleeps under the covers because, well, he has no hair.)  So anyway…the dog is flashing.  Aliens have planted a tracking device in our dog - which, if you’ve seen him IRL, makes PERFECT sense and explains a lot.

Did I mention I haven’t been sleeping well AND I’ve been fighting a migraine?  It’s time to call in the big guns.

Me:  Honey, are you awake?  (Shaking him just in case he isn’t…)

P-Man:  What?  What’s wrong?  What is it?

Me:  There’s lights flashing in our room.

P-Man:  Huh?

Me:  Flashes. Of. Lights. In. Our. Room.  Just wait - you’ll see one.

Cricket, cricket, cricket.

Me:  There!  Did you see that?  And here!  On our bed - another one!

Him: Yeah.  (He reaches over for the light now)

Him:  It’s a lightning bug.

Me:  No.  No it isn’t.  It wasn’t just in one spot.  Except for the one under the covers which is clearly an implanted tracking device.

Him:  No, it’s lightning bugs.  (As he reached out and traps one that is flying by…and turns back the covers to reveal the one on the back of the dog….)

Me:  Oh.  Um.  Well.  Look at that!  Lightning bugs!  Heh heh heh.  Um…sorry for waking you up for that.

Him:  Goodnight honey.

I am such a loser.

Light comes to us unexpectedly and obliquely.  Perhaps it amuses the gods to try us.  They want to see whether we are asleep.  ~H.M. Tomlinson

Is this:

Oh how I *heart* my new washing machine.  I have even been looking for stuff to wash, because I am just THAT LAME.

Thank you, Postman!  I *heart* you, too!

Housework is something you do that nobody notices until you don’t do it.  ~Author Unknown

The Diva decided recently (11 days ago to be exact) that she is going to be a vegetarian.  Since it has lasted about 10 days longer than I thought it would, I have bought her some soy products to replace her meat at dinner. 

Last night I decided to make a favorite dish of ours, sans meat.  It is a Mexican Lasagna and the only difference was that I did not mix ground beef into the refried beans before I put it all together and baked it.  The Diva was at the barn so I prepared dinner for the rest of us with the intention of keeping some warm for her.  The Captain and the Postman came to the table, took one look at it and asked what was wrong with it.  “Nothing”, I replied.  “I just left the meat out for the Diva.  There’s no reason we can’t all skip the meat once in a while.”

I have never seen such sad faces in my entire life - along with the mumbled “Why do WE have to suffer just because she doesn’t want to eat meat?”  My son even scraped the refried beans into a pile on the side of his plate and refused to eat them - although he has eaten them plenty of times before when the meat was present.  I have my own lion pride - albeit a small one.

On the other end of the spectrum, when the Diva came home she was genuinely happy that I made a meal for all of us that she could eat also.  “Really, there’s no meat in it?  Thank you, Mumma!”

So I guess the old adage is true:  you can please some of the people all the time, all the people some of the time, but never all the people all of the time!  So again, I realize it’s all about balance.

Vegetarian:  A person who eats only side dishes.  ~Gerald Lieberman

Remember yesterday when I said I was looking forward to a day with nothing planned?  That didn’t pan out for me.

The last time I checked the weather it was supposed to be rainy and dreary today - a perfect day for being indoors.  It turned out to be sunny and breezy, but still nice enough to be outside.  So after a morning of cleaning the house, and 20 billion loads of laundry, the Postman came home from visiting his dad with the announcement that “THE CORN MUST BE PLANTED TODAY.”  His mom and dad have two small gardens that they plant every year.  Since he is not well this year, the planting has fallen to us.  I suspect the entire project will fall to us as I really don’t see the Postman’s dad being well enough to weed, harvest, and empty the garden in the fall.  But who knows.  Anyway, his dad has been talking about the stupid corn  - and how it needs to be planted NOW - for days.  So today was the day.  I think mostly just so P-Man could say it was done.  (In fact, we all went back to visit his dad later this afternoon, specifically to tell him that the corn was in the ground.  Amen.)

I have never planted anything in my life.  Seriously.  I have, in the past, bought plants and/or flowers, and relocated them from pots to the ground.  Then they die.  Always.  I do not have a green thumb.  At all.  We’ll see how this all turns out later this summer.  Maybe since P-Man and the Captain were in on it, the plants won’t know that I was there too and they will grow.

I spent this evening and tonight working since I spent a lot of time with P-Man’s parents last week - IV hookups, doctor appointments, and then the return trip to the hospital via the ER - which took hours.  I have my end of month deadline looming closer than I’m ready for so I need to buckle down in order to get it all finished.

Good news on the baseball front - the Captain did not get hit by a pitch in this weekend’s game!  Woohoo! 

Hope you all had fantastic weekends!

There aren’t enough days in the weekend.  ~Rod Schmidt

Spring always seems to be the busiest time of year for us and this one is shaping up to be no different.

P-Man’s dad has been in the hospital - yes, again - since last Wednesday.  Good news though!  His team of doctors have diagnosed him!  It is a rare infection that is slow growing, and in return, hard to kill.  He is going to be on antibiotics for at least 6 months.  For three weeks after he comes home he will need them to be administered through a PICC line, then he can switch to the oral form of the medication.  If a family member felt confident enough to learn the procedure, he could stay at home and not have to travel to the hospital three times a day for the infusion.   My name came up as a candidate for the position…and since I was unopposed - I win!  For three weeks, I will head over to their house at 6:00AM, 2:00PM, and 10:00PM to administer his antibiotic.  It seems like a fairly easy process - wipe off each port with alcohol, flush the line, hook up the tubing and let him sit there for an hour and a half while the miracle drug flows into his body.  Then I reverse the process upon completion of the infusion.  When I look at it written down, I must admit that it is a little daunting.  But this will save him from having to be driven to the hospital every 8 hours. Or worse, have to be in a short term care unit for the three weeks.  He gets to be in his own home.  And really?  I’m glad I can help out. 

Then there’s all the kid stuff. 

My daughter had an appointment with the optometrist last week and besides her need for glasses, he saw a “freckle” in her eye.  He kept looking at it, then he would continue on with the exam…then he would look at the freckle again.  He even tried to help ME look at it through all his equipment.  Then he pulled out a reference book to try to find a picture.  Then he decided she needs to see a specialist for a second opinion.  I should clarify that he stressed that it is probably nothing…but to be sure, he’d like another opinion.  That has me a wee bit stressed out.  I try not to let things like this bother me until I have the facts straight up.  I’m generally pretty black and white; there’s not a lot of grey area with me.  But…HOLY CRAP…this is HER EYE.

My son has baseball nearly every day this week.  Last night he was very discouraged because he did not get a hit at all during practice.  Baseball is not shaping up to be his strongest sport but he tries so hard!  Tonight he got on base.  He walked (which I think is just fine - he knows when NOT to swing)…and he got nailed in the head with a pitch.  Yeah.  My heart immediately went into my throat and the mom next to me grabbed my arm.  He didn’t fall down (Really?  They are 9 and 10 years old so it’s not like a Beckett fastball was coming toward his head.  But still.)…and he headed down to first without so much as a cringe or an “ow!”.  He even stole second after that.  Needless to say, his confidence improved and he was a happy kid after tonight’s game.  Who knew getting hit in the head was the key to happiness?

Mix in the fact that I have a household to keep in order and a J-O-B to do, and it’s been crazy , crazy, crazy.  Thankfully the Postman has covered making dinner every night.  Oh…and?  Thursday is teacher appreciation day at one of the schools.  The PTO president asked if I could make a breakfast item or a dessert.  Since I am an overachiever a moron, I said I would do one of each.  Go me.

And that’s all there is that’s fit to print in my corner of the world today.

Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds.  ~George Santayana

Dear Dunkin’ Donuts,

One hour and 5 minutes for 3 bagel sandwiches is highly unreasonable.  I understand you run out of things sometimes - although on a Sunday morning?  Really?  You couldn’t predict you’d be busy on a Sunday morning at 10:00AM?  Ok…I’ll drive to the OTHER Dunkin’ Donuts in town.  Except, well even though they weren’t out of anything, they weren’t especially speedy.  Customer Service doesn’t seem to be a priority for you so as much as I love your product, I think you’ll find me at Tim Horton’s from now on.

Sincerely,

A disgruntled customer

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Dear Target,

I didn’t mean to shop lift.  Truly, I didn’t.  The fact that I’ve spent about $150 at your store in the last several days should indicate that I didn’t mean to walk out without paying for the $1.49 shoelaces.

I must have been holding them in the same hand as my keys, and when I needed both hands to help my son pick out a new baseball glove I put my keys - and the laces - in my pocket.  When we got home, I was mortified to find them when I reached into my pocket.

The thing is?  I live 40 minutes away from you.  At $3.57 a gallon, driving back to pay for the laces seems somewhat absurd.  But I believe in karma, so what I’m going to do is make an extra charitable donation this month.  Deal?  Good.  Thanks for understanding.

Sincerely,

A most apologetic customer (who loves Target WAY more than Wal-hell*)

*Stolen Borrowed from Morgan.

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Dear Postman,

You rock.  Thank you for putting together the Captain’s pitch back, and tightly strapping his new glove.  I spent 5 years doing all of that by myself (not always with great results!) and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it when you help my kids with things like that.  I know they appreciate it, too.

I love you more,

Me

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Dear Captain and Diva,

I missed you!  I am glad you had a nice time with your dad, but I am also glad you are home! 

Love you lots,

Mom

To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.  ~Phyllis Theroux

Recently I had someone ask me if the woman she had seen me with was my “real mother”. The Postman beat me to the answer with “No, it’s JUST her mother.”

I cannot tell you how much that question pisses.me.off.

First off, my mother and I are NOT bff’s. Never were. Never will be. A lot happened in my childhood and adolescence that I wish never had. Without divulging too much information, I’ll just say that it probably wasn’t intentional and she couldn’t help some of it. It’s still painful even with that knowledge.

HOWEVER:

It was her who stood at the end of the driveway on my first day of school, and many thereafter, waving to me as I was whisked away on the bus. It was her who braided my hair every.single.day. until second grade when I got it cut short like Dorothy Hamill.

It was her who drove me to countless softball practices and games and became a Girl Scout Troop Leader.

It was her who held my hair back the first time I got drunk and sick when I got the flu.

She helped me buy a car when I was 16. She helped pay for college. She adores her grandchildren.

So while she is not my biological mother, she is my REAL mother. So stop asking such stupid questions, mmkay?

It’s not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it. ~From the television show The Golden Girls

It has been unseasonably warm here the past couple of days. In fact, my daughter’s school lifted the “no shorts until after April vacation” ban. They are being allowed to wear shorts tomorrow. The Diva announced this to me immediately upon getting into the car this afternoon and quickly followed up with “I need to shave my legs. They are disgusting.”

The Diva is 12. I have discouraged her from shaving for as long as I could. I mean, let’s face it ladies. We all know what a pain it really is and the newness wears off quickly. I knew I wasn’t going to discourage her for one more summer though.

This evening it was time for the big lesson. I told The Postman we were stealing borrowing his shaving cream. I rarely use it (and steal borrow his when I need it) so I don’t have any.

Him: Why don’t you just show her how to use the electric razor?

Me: Because it doesn’t work as well. It doesn’t leave the skin as smooth.

Him: What does it matter? NO ONE is going to be touching her legs.

Me: How very “stepfather with a shotgun” of you.

Sometimes the smallest, silliest things remind me why I love that man so much.

The troubles of adolescence eventually all go away - it’s just like a really long, bad cold. ~Dawn Ruelas

* 5 points to whoever knows who said that!

Just yesterday I read about this phenomenon, here. Karly is funny - you’ll be glad you clicked on that link.

This evening, right after supper, I took the towels out of the dryer. I folded them and placed them on the washer to put away later because both bathrooms were occupied at the time. Soon after, I saw the Postman walk by with a pile of clothes.

Just a few minutes ago, I went to the laundry room to look for something else and saw my neat pile of folded towels a heap of what used to be perfectly folded, crisp clean towels. In his eagerness to put his clothes in the washer (ALL of them. Not sorted.), he just pushed aside the pile of towels I folded.

Me: Did you seriously just push the towels aside rather than carry them to the bathroom?

Him: They weren’t ours, were they?

Me: Seriously?

And for any of you that dare say I should be happy he put his clothes in the washer, I will also beat you with the clothes basket.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. ~Erma Bombeck