This weekend has been like a game of pick-up sticks, that handful of wooden sticks that you hold onto and then let go ... and try to pick up one at a time without disturbing any of the others. Sometimes, I just want to pick them all up at once, rather than having to deal with one stick at a time, but life gives us lots of little sticks, so we deal with what we have, rather than what we want.
Anyhoo, I've cleaned, changed the sheets and towels, done laundry, paid bills, filed paperwork, contemplated the increased mess in the garage from the additions donated by son prior to our departure for Canada, and spent some time thinking about all the little sticks I still have to pick up.
The pile of crushed rock is no longer on the driveway as I shoveled it into the wheelbarrow and spread it throughout the backyard, wherever there was a low or bare spot. I also replanted the foliage along the garage slab as those plants died during the 10 days I was gone. I've put together a temporary watering system using soaker hoses, but don't know if it'll do the job while I'm gone this time. It only takes about 10 minutes each evening to water all the plants, which is the preferred method, but I hate asking my house sitter to do that ... but I'm going to have to impose on him as I cannot afford to replace plants again.
I scooped poop, found more rocks and finished the path at the edge of the paver patio, and contemplated how to stabilize the wooden table before sanding and painting it. I'm going shopping before I leave on my vacation, so will see if I can find chairs so my housesitter can use the table if he wants to sit outside. I also need 6 new pairs of cropped socks to wear with my athletic shoes as I've worn mine out with all the outside work I've done.
The sink isn't going to be repaired prior to my departure, so I'll instruct my sitter not to use the garbage disposal as it not only doesn't work, but it leaks. I'm allergic to mold, so can't have water leaking into the cabinet under the sink and causing mold to grow.
I made reservations for a motel in the Boston area, the first leg of our summer adventure. The hotel is about 15 miles from downtown, but close to the aquarium and Salem, 2 of the attractions we want to visit. It'll be a long drive the first day, but then we'll stay put and explore, which will be fun. We have a movie camera, digital still cameras, and, as of tomorrow, a small computer to take along so we can write our story about our adventures.
Because I can't wait to leave, I'm already packing -- and making lists of the electronic items I don't want to forget! It used to be easier to go places and do things ... . I"m taking one bag, but a bigger bag than I took on the drive to Canada, so will have to steel myself not to complain if I have to pay the airline to transport it.
After all, the ticket I bought is for me, not for a suitcase, to fly to PA, right?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Repurposing Son's Bedframe
Today, I bought a set of solar lights and placed them throughout the paver patio project, then moved the heavy wrought iron table and chairs (which are really dirty!) into place in the middle section of the patio. I hauled out the umbrella that goes with the set, an item that has stayed in the garage due to the ongoing high winds in my area. George came out to take a looksee, so I asked him to join me for coffee on the new patio ... and stayed out until the solar lights came on.It's been a long time coming to see the yard landscaped and usable, but it was worth waiting for. The night air has finally cooled off, so it was beautiful outside, rather than too hot. George complimented my hard work and was a gracious guest. If you look at the left side of the photo, you can see him watching me work, one of his life's pleasures, judging by how much time he spends so occupied.
Mia ran around, played with her pull toy and crawled up into my lap. She's not sure what's going on, but she has been keeping a close eye on me since I left her on her own for 10 days.
After our coffee was finished, I showed George how I'm going to repurpose the wood from my son's bed frame to make a new patio table. The slats are going to be screwed to 2 pieces exactly the right length without cutting, then I'm going to add 2 end pieces, which I'll cut down from the existing side pieces. Once that's done, I'll turn the table bottom side up and add legs, which are also conveniently cut to the correct size. I'm not sure what I'll do for chairs, but may find something at Lowe's, perhaps wrought iron benches. I now have my $300 gift cards to spend, shopping that will include a chiminea for the other side of the paver patio.
I don't want to sit the wood table out in the direct sun, which is why I moved the wrought iron onto the paver patio. Whatever sits out there in the open also has to be heavy enough not to blow away, and the wrought iron set is that.
So, there you have it. Somewhere down the line will be a shade cover, but for now, it's looking good in the neighborhood.
NOTE: I went looking for wooden chairs to match the table when it's finished, which means sanding and then painting it to match the backyard landscaping plan. I found some killer teak chairs at Lowe's, but they are $100 bucks a pop, so that's a no-go. I found some black laquer chairs at Target at $75 each, which is still pricey, but more reasonable. I'll do a bit more looking before I buy as I want to have 4 chairs, or 2 arms chairs and 2 benches, because I plan to use this as the food table and the wrought iron set as the lounge furniture. We'll see.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
You Don't Understand
A news article reports that a 26-year-old woman, whose son was killed in an accident she caused while driving under the influence, left his graveside funeral service and went to a bar to drink, rather than returning to jail. Why is there surprise that a drunk drinks? Why are we shocked when drunk drivers cause deadly accidents? The addiction is the problem: the method of addiction varies, but an addict's life is controlled by uncontrollable dependency on addictive substances. Once the substance abuse becomes the person, there is no life. Death becomes inevitable - either for the addict or for someone who shares time/space with the addict.
My friend is an alcoholic who is also addicted to prescription pain medication. She is an absolute master at doctor-shopping and knows how to space out her appointments and present her symptoms to get prescriptions for highly addictive drugs that she washes down with booze. If the drug is on the top ten list of most addictive, she has it. She self-medicates, mixing pills and booze as she tries to anesthetize the symptoms of a life that has deteriorated to desperation.
I grew up with alcoholism, and it isn’t pretty either for the drunk or for the people who have to deal with the drunk. When most alcoholics aren’t drinking, they can be great friends, but when the addiction wins, the spiral toward complete collapse can pick up family, friends, and innocent bystanders in the blink of an eye. I’ve confronted my friend several times, being explicit in my observations of her drunken ramblings, stumbling falls, and inability to function either personally or professionally. I’ve recommended that she commit herself to a treatment facility before it’s too late, but perhaps it’s already too late.
Her response is always the same: you don’t understand.
She's an addict who cannot acknowledge her addiction, and if there is no problem, there is no need for treatment. She tells me about her pain, the real physical pain and the imaginary pain that combine to make her life intolerable. She has reasons for needing the pain pills: the shoulder pain, the neck pain, the back pain, the arm pain, the wrist pain, the hand pain, the hip pain, the knee pain, and she has pills for all of them. She is stumbling and falling, causing more pain and bruising. Her life is defined by pain that she no longer can endure nor mask with medication or alcohol.
Recently, there have been many phone calls, the rambling incoherent cry for help that marks the descent into desperation. This time, it’s not the extreme physical pain, nor the debilitating depression that follows increasing dependency on the pills to blot out the reality that her life sucks. This time, it’s triggered by her husband, who no longer will accept nor deal with the death spiral. This time, I called him and left a message because he won’t answer his phone: he has distanced himself from the self-destruction and issued the ultimatum that she has 30 days to vacate the home they share – and he doesn’t care where she goes or what she does. This time, he will not give her money to relocate or help her in that process because he knows all too well that the money will be spent either on booze or her daughter, whose bills she’s paid since I’ve known her. This time, he says her daughter can step up and be part of the solution, rather than the problem.
Whereas most of us grow up in dysfunctional families in one way or another, addicts fuel the dysfunction for themselves and the people who occupy the planet with them. Whether it's a tough love strategy aimed at shocking her into getting help or simply his own frustration at being unable either to help her or to live with her, her husband has the clock ticking and she has come completely undone.
Last night, she called to share her plan. She’s going to take all of her money out of her retirement fund, pay off the mortgage and second on the home she owns that is occupied by her daughter and family, and then commit suicide. Physically, she’s always in pain, so she cannot continue to work; mentally, she’s convinced herself that where she is right now is a place she neither can control nor change; and emotionally, she’s determined that the world will be better off without her. There is no listening to reason because she’s incoherent 24/7, stumbling through her words and her world, all the while being watched by her 12-year-old grandson, a high-functioning autistic child who lives with her.
After last night’s call, I left the message on her husband’s phone: please help her. Whether she means to die or not, she’s taking pill after pill after pill, desperate to find anything that finally will make the pain go away. She is no longer rational nor capable of reasoning, and, perhaps, the end result is a foregone conclusion. I called back for 2 hours last night, but the phone was busy. I doubt it was her husband talking to her because he’s made it clear that he no longer is responsible for her life – or her death.
I’m expecting the call I don't want to answer. It may not come today; it may not come tomorrow; but it will come.
NOTE: her husband called to thank me for caring, but also to warn me not to care too much as there is little anyone can do until she takes the first step. He also warned me that she wants to move in with me as she feels that I can deal with her problems in a manner that will help her to stop drinking, drugging, and destroying her life. I told him that I've been there, done that - and it doesn't work for me or for the addict!
I had an opportunity to express my concern about the suicide strategy, but he says he's heard it all before and if he thought she would harm herself or anyone else, he'd step in and have her committed for observation. He says their g'son knows what's going on and he knows either to get out of the way or protect himself, especially by not getting into a car when his g'ma is acting "goofy." I'm not so sure I agree on this point, but the family is trying to handle the problem, so I can let go of it.
My friend is an alcoholic who is also addicted to prescription pain medication. She is an absolute master at doctor-shopping and knows how to space out her appointments and present her symptoms to get prescriptions for highly addictive drugs that she washes down with booze. If the drug is on the top ten list of most addictive, she has it. She self-medicates, mixing pills and booze as she tries to anesthetize the symptoms of a life that has deteriorated to desperation.
I grew up with alcoholism, and it isn’t pretty either for the drunk or for the people who have to deal with the drunk. When most alcoholics aren’t drinking, they can be great friends, but when the addiction wins, the spiral toward complete collapse can pick up family, friends, and innocent bystanders in the blink of an eye. I’ve confronted my friend several times, being explicit in my observations of her drunken ramblings, stumbling falls, and inability to function either personally or professionally. I’ve recommended that she commit herself to a treatment facility before it’s too late, but perhaps it’s already too late.
Her response is always the same: you don’t understand.
She's an addict who cannot acknowledge her addiction, and if there is no problem, there is no need for treatment. She tells me about her pain, the real physical pain and the imaginary pain that combine to make her life intolerable. She has reasons for needing the pain pills: the shoulder pain, the neck pain, the back pain, the arm pain, the wrist pain, the hand pain, the hip pain, the knee pain, and she has pills for all of them. She is stumbling and falling, causing more pain and bruising. Her life is defined by pain that she no longer can endure nor mask with medication or alcohol.
Recently, there have been many phone calls, the rambling incoherent cry for help that marks the descent into desperation. This time, it’s not the extreme physical pain, nor the debilitating depression that follows increasing dependency on the pills to blot out the reality that her life sucks. This time, it’s triggered by her husband, who no longer will accept nor deal with the death spiral. This time, I called him and left a message because he won’t answer his phone: he has distanced himself from the self-destruction and issued the ultimatum that she has 30 days to vacate the home they share – and he doesn’t care where she goes or what she does. This time, he will not give her money to relocate or help her in that process because he knows all too well that the money will be spent either on booze or her daughter, whose bills she’s paid since I’ve known her. This time, he says her daughter can step up and be part of the solution, rather than the problem.
Whereas most of us grow up in dysfunctional families in one way or another, addicts fuel the dysfunction for themselves and the people who occupy the planet with them. Whether it's a tough love strategy aimed at shocking her into getting help or simply his own frustration at being unable either to help her or to live with her, her husband has the clock ticking and she has come completely undone.
Last night, she called to share her plan. She’s going to take all of her money out of her retirement fund, pay off the mortgage and second on the home she owns that is occupied by her daughter and family, and then commit suicide. Physically, she’s always in pain, so she cannot continue to work; mentally, she’s convinced herself that where she is right now is a place she neither can control nor change; and emotionally, she’s determined that the world will be better off without her. There is no listening to reason because she’s incoherent 24/7, stumbling through her words and her world, all the while being watched by her 12-year-old grandson, a high-functioning autistic child who lives with her.
After last night’s call, I left the message on her husband’s phone: please help her. Whether she means to die or not, she’s taking pill after pill after pill, desperate to find anything that finally will make the pain go away. She is no longer rational nor capable of reasoning, and, perhaps, the end result is a foregone conclusion. I called back for 2 hours last night, but the phone was busy. I doubt it was her husband talking to her because he’s made it clear that he no longer is responsible for her life – or her death.
I’m expecting the call I don't want to answer. It may not come today; it may not come tomorrow; but it will come.
NOTE: her husband called to thank me for caring, but also to warn me not to care too much as there is little anyone can do until she takes the first step. He also warned me that she wants to move in with me as she feels that I can deal with her problems in a manner that will help her to stop drinking, drugging, and destroying her life. I told him that I've been there, done that - and it doesn't work for me or for the addict!
I had an opportunity to express my concern about the suicide strategy, but he says he's heard it all before and if he thought she would harm herself or anyone else, he'd step in and have her committed for observation. He says their g'son knows what's going on and he knows either to get out of the way or protect himself, especially by not getting into a car when his g'ma is acting "goofy." I'm not so sure I agree on this point, but the family is trying to handle the problem, so I can let go of it.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Plan the Work; Work the Plan
My eyes popped open at 4 am, so I got out of bed and began my day because I had nothing to read; hence, no early morning cup of coffee and a coupla chapters! By 6:30, I was movin’ through the house like a whirling dervish …
Well, that may be a slight exaggeration (what we in the biz call hyperbole), but I was cleaning the couches and the floors, Mia’s domain. For a short-haired dog, she sheds like few dogs I’ve ever seen. I used the vacuum left behind in the recent move and filled the bagless cup area 4 separate times with rug fuzz and dog hair. I banged the air filter at the same time I emptied the collection cup as the fine dirt that comes with the winds out here clogs everything. As I was trying to clean the tracks for the new slider, I noticed that the powerful “wind tunnel” wasn’t doing the job, so I hefted it onto a chair and took a look. My son shredded docs for days – and the air hose was clogged with chad! I had to disassemble the machine, which brought back the time many years ago when I purchased a new vac and son took it apart to see how it worked. Yeah, he put it back together, but there were a few tense moments.
Anyhoo, as I vacuumed, I also spot-cleaned the rug; however, there were so many spots that I just as easily could have called in Stanley Steemer (which I’ll do when I return the end of July from the second trip to Canada). The house both looks and smells fresher, but still needs the fan blades cleaned, the furniture dusted, and the tiles mopped (which I’ll do when it cools off).
Then it was off to Sam’s Club for the bare necessities: books! I found 3 of the titles on my list and picked up the last one next door at the Wal-Mart, where I also bought a new shower head. I loved using my children’s fancy adjustable shower heads, so I treated myself to one: just have to install it and then try it out. I also bought a new keyboard as I literally wore out several of the keys on the old one. I bought plug in and cheap as I’m not a big fan of the wireless products so many computer users favor. I’ve had several wireless mice and all I’ve done is replace batteries, which isn’t cost effective in my world view. I like this keyboard with the exception that it’s having issues when I type double letters, but what can you expect for $20?
Before I could go shopping, I had to stop by a friend’s home and empty her car, which has been sold on-line while she’s at home in PA. I had already showered and dressed in clean clothes, so intended to back the car out of the garage to make access easier and finish the job in a jiffy, but the battery was disconnected, so I got to worm my way between the other vehicle and the cabinets along the wall, which made the job harder to do. And, there was a lot of stuff in her car for an obsessive person who cleans her car every week even when she hasn’t driven it! It didn't take long before I was dripping sweat, getting my clothes dirty, and calling my friend some pretty choice names. Oh, well. It’s done, my shopping is finished, and the friend I picked up for company and I enjoyed our pan pizzas at Pizza Hut, and life is good.
My house sitter is coming by this evening after he gets off work, so I’m going to finish the cleaning and laundry that’s waiting for attention. I also have to get back outside to complete the paver patio project, but it’s into the triple digits again, but that can wait for much cooler days!
Well, that may be a slight exaggeration (what we in the biz call hyperbole), but I was cleaning the couches and the floors, Mia’s domain. For a short-haired dog, she sheds like few dogs I’ve ever seen. I used the vacuum left behind in the recent move and filled the bagless cup area 4 separate times with rug fuzz and dog hair. I banged the air filter at the same time I emptied the collection cup as the fine dirt that comes with the winds out here clogs everything. As I was trying to clean the tracks for the new slider, I noticed that the powerful “wind tunnel” wasn’t doing the job, so I hefted it onto a chair and took a look. My son shredded docs for days – and the air hose was clogged with chad! I had to disassemble the machine, which brought back the time many years ago when I purchased a new vac and son took it apart to see how it worked. Yeah, he put it back together, but there were a few tense moments.
Anyhoo, as I vacuumed, I also spot-cleaned the rug; however, there were so many spots that I just as easily could have called in Stanley Steemer (which I’ll do when I return the end of July from the second trip to Canada). The house both looks and smells fresher, but still needs the fan blades cleaned, the furniture dusted, and the tiles mopped (which I’ll do when it cools off).
Then it was off to Sam’s Club for the bare necessities: books! I found 3 of the titles on my list and picked up the last one next door at the Wal-Mart, where I also bought a new shower head. I loved using my children’s fancy adjustable shower heads, so I treated myself to one: just have to install it and then try it out. I also bought a new keyboard as I literally wore out several of the keys on the old one. I bought plug in and cheap as I’m not a big fan of the wireless products so many computer users favor. I’ve had several wireless mice and all I’ve done is replace batteries, which isn’t cost effective in my world view. I like this keyboard with the exception that it’s having issues when I type double letters, but what can you expect for $20?
Before I could go shopping, I had to stop by a friend’s home and empty her car, which has been sold on-line while she’s at home in PA. I had already showered and dressed in clean clothes, so intended to back the car out of the garage to make access easier and finish the job in a jiffy, but the battery was disconnected, so I got to worm my way between the other vehicle and the cabinets along the wall, which made the job harder to do. And, there was a lot of stuff in her car for an obsessive person who cleans her car every week even when she hasn’t driven it! It didn't take long before I was dripping sweat, getting my clothes dirty, and calling my friend some pretty choice names. Oh, well. It’s done, my shopping is finished, and the friend I picked up for company and I enjoyed our pan pizzas at Pizza Hut, and life is good.
My house sitter is coming by this evening after he gets off work, so I’m going to finish the cleaning and laundry that’s waiting for attention. I also have to get back outside to complete the paver patio project, but it’s into the triple digits again, but that can wait for much cooler days!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
... And that has made all the difference.
The milestones in one’s life space out as the children age, so the first day of school is followed by high school graduation, college graduation, the first apartment, the career changes, and, sometimes, the birth of grandchildren. The 40th birthday of the first-born comes as somewhat of a shock, but, overall, these changes are a natural, progressive part of life, something we share as we move through life on slightly divergent paths. However, sending one’s only son to a foreign country to live the rest of his life is one of the most difficult life events I’ve faced, and I’m not sure why because it’s right for him at this time in his life. His wife completes him, smoothes his rough edges, and encourages him in ways he needs to be encouraged. They are a good, solid couple – and being a couple means living together, not maintaining an extremely long-distance relationship, such as the one that has been their life for the past 3 years.
My children were upset when I left home and moved to a state where I knew no one to accept a job that was going to be one way, but turned out another. There was a shared sigh of relief when Mom came to her senses, returned home, and resumed her career in education. It’s okay for the children to come and go, but the parents’ job is to stay put, change nothing, and wait for the prodigals to come home to grilled steaks and chilled salads.
Finding himself is not my son’s new life: he relocated to Canada to live with his wife. His immigration status is permanent resident, but he’ll retain his US citizenship. Not only do I approve of the marriage, but I also whole-heartedly support it as his wife is a loving, delightful woman who makes a wonderful daughter-in-law, as well as wife. Because she has a career, a home, family and friends, and has lived her life in one geographical location, my son suggested that he, an apartment dweller, relocate and find a job in Canada. They agreed that path could be best for their future together, and then it was a matter of applying for and receiving the approvals necessary for him to achieve that goal. Fortunately, at the same time his job was eliminated by a company buy-out, his approval to relocate to Canada came through. Then it was a matter of doing whatever it took to walk out of SoCal and into Canada, a task accomplished between May 1 and June 17, 2008.
Talking about it logically, planning the logistics, and executing the plan are different skill sets than saying good-bye to my son and then flying to my home 3500 miles away! There is an emotional heaviness, regardless of how much I logically approve of the plan, because he is my son. I’ll miss him because he’s not a hundred miles down the freeway, a quick trip by SoCal standards. No more b’fast at Denny’s, lunch at Olive Garden, ice cream at Baskin Robbins, movie reviews that prove the professionals are idiots, or Lakers games via cell phone.
Life has moved on, and, as Robert Frost said so eloquently, “… knowing how way leads on to way,” our paths will cross less frequently in the future. We’ll plan our time together and make it happen, regardless of the price of gas or an airline ticket, but the journey is not going to be the same without my son here to share it.
My children were upset when I left home and moved to a state where I knew no one to accept a job that was going to be one way, but turned out another. There was a shared sigh of relief when Mom came to her senses, returned home, and resumed her career in education. It’s okay for the children to come and go, but the parents’ job is to stay put, change nothing, and wait for the prodigals to come home to grilled steaks and chilled salads.
Finding himself is not my son’s new life: he relocated to Canada to live with his wife. His immigration status is permanent resident, but he’ll retain his US citizenship. Not only do I approve of the marriage, but I also whole-heartedly support it as his wife is a loving, delightful woman who makes a wonderful daughter-in-law, as well as wife. Because she has a career, a home, family and friends, and has lived her life in one geographical location, my son suggested that he, an apartment dweller, relocate and find a job in Canada. They agreed that path could be best for their future together, and then it was a matter of applying for and receiving the approvals necessary for him to achieve that goal. Fortunately, at the same time his job was eliminated by a company buy-out, his approval to relocate to Canada came through. Then it was a matter of doing whatever it took to walk out of SoCal and into Canada, a task accomplished between May 1 and June 17, 2008.
Talking about it logically, planning the logistics, and executing the plan are different skill sets than saying good-bye to my son and then flying to my home 3500 miles away! There is an emotional heaviness, regardless of how much I logically approve of the plan, because he is my son. I’ll miss him because he’s not a hundred miles down the freeway, a quick trip by SoCal standards. No more b’fast at Denny’s, lunch at Olive Garden, ice cream at Baskin Robbins, movie reviews that prove the professionals are idiots, or Lakers games via cell phone.
Life has moved on, and, as Robert Frost said so eloquently, “… knowing how way leads on to way,” our paths will cross less frequently in the future. We’ll plan our time together and make it happen, regardless of the price of gas or an airline ticket, but the journey is not going to be the same without my son here to share it.
Monday, June 9, 2008
What's the Plan, Stan?
George next door is taking care of Mia, happily so, according to my ex-husband's wife, who speaks Spanish and confirmed the pictogram I made so George and I could discuss this situation. What a huge load removed from my mind! He and Mia have bonded through the chain link fence, so I am completely confident that she will be well-cared for while I'm gone.
My friend has a key to the house and the remote for the garage, so she's all set to come by and check on things. Another friend always has a back-up set of keys, too, because you just never know.
The packing isn't finished, but it's close. Today is son's day to do the last-minute errands associated with leaving for another country, as well as packing the last stack of small boxes. We worked long and hard yesterday, but couldn't quite finish the process. Neither one of us is a fine physical specimen, but we do know hard work and consistent effort, so we're overcoming the obstacles to the stupendous task we've been given.
Tuesday, son will pick up the trailer while I drive back to his apartment. We'll move boxes down the stairs (God, do I HATE stairs) and into the trailer. When the trailer's full and the apartment empty, he'll turn in his keys and we'll start the drive to my house, so I can shower, change, pick up my suitcase, lock up the house and start driving to the far eastern seaboard.
Then, the true challenge begins: can son and mother co-exist in a locked vehicle traveling 3250 miles together? If we weren't so much alike, it could be easier, but being so much alike has made the whole process possible because one of our common traits is our commitment to stick with it until it's finished -- come hell or high water.
Life isn't always pretty or easy, but it is doable, so let's just get this done!
My friend has a key to the house and the remote for the garage, so she's all set to come by and check on things. Another friend always has a back-up set of keys, too, because you just never know.
The packing isn't finished, but it's close. Today is son's day to do the last-minute errands associated with leaving for another country, as well as packing the last stack of small boxes. We worked long and hard yesterday, but couldn't quite finish the process. Neither one of us is a fine physical specimen, but we do know hard work and consistent effort, so we're overcoming the obstacles to the stupendous task we've been given.
Tuesday, son will pick up the trailer while I drive back to his apartment. We'll move boxes down the stairs (God, do I HATE stairs) and into the trailer. When the trailer's full and the apartment empty, he'll turn in his keys and we'll start the drive to my house, so I can shower, change, pick up my suitcase, lock up the house and start driving to the far eastern seaboard.
Then, the true challenge begins: can son and mother co-exist in a locked vehicle traveling 3250 miles together? If we weren't so much alike, it could be easier, but being so much alike has made the whole process possible because one of our common traits is our commitment to stick with it until it's finished -- come hell or high water.
Life isn't always pretty or easy, but it is doable, so let's just get this done!
Friday, June 6, 2008
YUK!
Remember the sunburn that resulted from the birthday lunch at the beach May 31? Last evening, my upper arm itched, so I reached to scratch it and found -- yuk -- it's covered in blisters!
I'm not sure why it took a week for the blisters to show up, but they are gross and some of the largest blisters I ever remember as a result of sunburn. They are filled with fluid and starting to ooze when I rub the itchy skin. Soon, the skin will dry up and then the flaking and peeling will start. Meanwhile, the tender skin beneath the sunburn will require extra pampering, including lots of high-number sunscreen.
I'm old enough to know better, but missed the wiser part of that saying or I would never have been outside for 3 hours without sunscreen protection.
I'm not sure why it took a week for the blisters to show up, but they are gross and some of the largest blisters I ever remember as a result of sunburn. They are filled with fluid and starting to ooze when I rub the itchy skin. Soon, the skin will dry up and then the flaking and peeling will start. Meanwhile, the tender skin beneath the sunburn will require extra pampering, including lots of high-number sunscreen.
I'm old enough to know better, but missed the wiser part of that saying or I would never have been outside for 3 hours without sunscreen protection.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
I Want the Money, Not the Job.
My mother was involved in hiring a part-time employee whose work schedule was Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, evenings only (4 pm to 9 pm). There were many applicants for the job and the person who was selected for the position was thrilled: as a college student, the job would not interfere with his class schedule, the pay was acceptable, and the working conditions excellent.
Two months after beginning the job, the new employee sued the city (the employer) for discrimination because he was "stuck" working weekends and evenings, while other employees got to work either days and/or weekdays. It was "unfair" that he had to give up his weekends to work, while other employees didn't. He won his case in spite of the fact that the hiring notice, the application, and the interview process all verified that it was clearly specified this position was for a part-time employee who would only work Th-Sunday 4 - 9 pm. It wasn't long after the court's decision that my mother retired, unable either to understand or to accept that the employee could win such a case.
Over a week ago, I talked to a former student about staying in my home while I’m gone during July to take care of my dog and water my plants. I talked about the days I would be gone (20), how she didn’t need to stay at the house 24/7, but I would want her to stay in the house every night I was away. I told her I have an alarm system, as well as a fenced yard, a vigilant dog, and a neighbor who keeps an eye on things, but I want someone to stay in my house with my dog while I’m gone. She was thrilled at the possibility of the job, but I cautioned her to talk to her parents to see if they would agree to this arrangement because it would be their decision to make.
When she called back to say she was interested, I again discussed the details and asked her to come to the house to see if she would feel comfortable staying here. We made an appointment for today, and I drove back from helping son pack to meet with her. Her (older) brother came with her and we went through the entire scenario. I again asked if her parents are supportive of this job offer, and both she and her brother enthusiastically said, “Yes.” I reminded her that because she’s a minor (17), her parents would basically be in charge while I was gone. I had already talked to her mom briefly last week and asked her if it was going to be okay for her daughter to house and dog sit for me, and her mother told me it would be fine.
Today, we discussed duties (take care of the dog, water the plants, walk to the PO and pick up my mail), the price (1/2 at the start of the job; 1/2 when I returned), and my expectation that she would be here every night, but could work, go to summer school, hang out with her friends, whatever, during the day. I told her that Mia's used to being alone during the day, but not at night, so that's why I am hiring someone to stay with her. Yes, she could have family or friends stay with her; no, she didn’t need to be here all the time, but I want her to be here every night. She and her brother loved Mia, and Mia returned their feelings, licking the brother's face from top to bottom and side to side, a sure sign that Mia found the guy okay.
Thus, enthusiastic agreement and the deal is struck.
An hour ago, she called to tell me that her mother is concerned about her staying nights at my house, so she wants to know if she’s here during the day, like every afternoon, but didn’t spend the nights – would that be okay? The answer to that question is “NO!” I want someone to be here with Mia as much as possible while I’m gone, but most especially each night, and that was the only requirement for accepting the job: take care of my dog. Her brother can stay with her Sat-Sun (4 of the days I’m gone) and her mom could stay with her a couple of the days (maybe another 3-4), which means that about 2/3 of the time I'm gone, Mia would be left alone.
She sounded really disappointed when I told her I don’t think that’s going to work, especially at the price I am willing to pay to have someone here most or all of the time, not some of the time. I told her I’ll think about it, but I can’t see how being here for a couple of hours each afternoon is going to meet Mia's needs.
Back to square one.
There’s a lot of that going around these days, especially when I either ask a friend for a favor or try to hire someone to do a job for me. I finally realize how valuable my services have been to friends whose dogs I’ve kept literally for days/weeks/months when there’s been a need. I finally realize how frustrating it is not to know people who will return in kind that which I have offered freely so many times in the past. I finally realize that I’m sorry I’ve paid for a ticket to take a vacation with my grandson when my first responsibility is to my dog, because when I can’t make sure my dog is cared for, I really cannot leave my home.
This sucks. I’m pissed and I’m going to stay pissy until I feel like letting go of yet another disappointment in what is becoming a very long line of disappointments.
Two months after beginning the job, the new employee sued the city (the employer) for discrimination because he was "stuck" working weekends and evenings, while other employees got to work either days and/or weekdays. It was "unfair" that he had to give up his weekends to work, while other employees didn't. He won his case in spite of the fact that the hiring notice, the application, and the interview process all verified that it was clearly specified this position was for a part-time employee who would only work Th-Sunday 4 - 9 pm. It wasn't long after the court's decision that my mother retired, unable either to understand or to accept that the employee could win such a case.
Over a week ago, I talked to a former student about staying in my home while I’m gone during July to take care of my dog and water my plants. I talked about the days I would be gone (20), how she didn’t need to stay at the house 24/7, but I would want her to stay in the house every night I was away. I told her I have an alarm system, as well as a fenced yard, a vigilant dog, and a neighbor who keeps an eye on things, but I want someone to stay in my house with my dog while I’m gone. She was thrilled at the possibility of the job, but I cautioned her to talk to her parents to see if they would agree to this arrangement because it would be their decision to make.
When she called back to say she was interested, I again discussed the details and asked her to come to the house to see if she would feel comfortable staying here. We made an appointment for today, and I drove back from helping son pack to meet with her. Her (older) brother came with her and we went through the entire scenario. I again asked if her parents are supportive of this job offer, and both she and her brother enthusiastically said, “Yes.” I reminded her that because she’s a minor (17), her parents would basically be in charge while I was gone. I had already talked to her mom briefly last week and asked her if it was going to be okay for her daughter to house and dog sit for me, and her mother told me it would be fine.
Today, we discussed duties (take care of the dog, water the plants, walk to the PO and pick up my mail), the price (1/2 at the start of the job; 1/2 when I returned), and my expectation that she would be here every night, but could work, go to summer school, hang out with her friends, whatever, during the day. I told her that Mia's used to being alone during the day, but not at night, so that's why I am hiring someone to stay with her. Yes, she could have family or friends stay with her; no, she didn’t need to be here all the time, but I want her to be here every night. She and her brother loved Mia, and Mia returned their feelings, licking the brother's face from top to bottom and side to side, a sure sign that Mia found the guy okay.
Thus, enthusiastic agreement and the deal is struck.
An hour ago, she called to tell me that her mother is concerned about her staying nights at my house, so she wants to know if she’s here during the day, like every afternoon, but didn’t spend the nights – would that be okay? The answer to that question is “NO!” I want someone to be here with Mia as much as possible while I’m gone, but most especially each night, and that was the only requirement for accepting the job: take care of my dog. Her brother can stay with her Sat-Sun (4 of the days I’m gone) and her mom could stay with her a couple of the days (maybe another 3-4), which means that about 2/3 of the time I'm gone, Mia would be left alone.
She sounded really disappointed when I told her I don’t think that’s going to work, especially at the price I am willing to pay to have someone here most or all of the time, not some of the time. I told her I’ll think about it, but I can’t see how being here for a couple of hours each afternoon is going to meet Mia's needs.
Back to square one.
There’s a lot of that going around these days, especially when I either ask a friend for a favor or try to hire someone to do a job for me. I finally realize how valuable my services have been to friends whose dogs I’ve kept literally for days/weeks/months when there’s been a need. I finally realize how frustrating it is not to know people who will return in kind that which I have offered freely so many times in the past. I finally realize that I’m sorry I’ve paid for a ticket to take a vacation with my grandson when my first responsibility is to my dog, because when I can’t make sure my dog is cared for, I really cannot leave my home.
This sucks. I’m pissed and I’m going to stay pissy until I feel like letting go of yet another disappointment in what is becoming a very long line of disappointments.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Windy Point
Sustained winds of 50 mph are blasting through the pass and right down I-10. Visibility is pretty much zero, major roads are closed, and all motorists are being warned to stay off the roads. There's a hazmat spill down-valley and the news teams covering it are on one side of the road, cameras pointing to the string of emergency vehicles working the scene, none of which can be seen through the blowing sand between the two crews.
We're being told the dangerous winds should die down by 3 am, which will be nice because if you live on one side of I-10 and work on the other, you actually cannot cross the freeway either to get to work or to return home.
The good news is that the steel water heater shed next door has been rebuilt with wood and a cute little brick roof to add some weight and keep the shelter there when the winds blow. After a full 6 months of listening to that racket, the absence of noise is sweet music to my ears.
ADDENDUM
No sooner had I hit the publish post button than a series of little power outages occurred, so I shut down my computer until it seemed safe to reboot. We've also been enjoying the constant movement of the quake faults, a common occurrence in the desert when the temps shift from the chill of winter to the sudden soaring high temps of summer. It settles out after a few weeks, but this year is taking longer to do so as the temps have been all over the board. I can go outside any time of the day or night and not be instantly burned by the blazing sun or flash frozen by the rapid evening drops in temp, a situation that is not common in the desert.
We're being told the dangerous winds should die down by 3 am, which will be nice because if you live on one side of I-10 and work on the other, you actually cannot cross the freeway either to get to work or to return home.
The good news is that the steel water heater shed next door has been rebuilt with wood and a cute little brick roof to add some weight and keep the shelter there when the winds blow. After a full 6 months of listening to that racket, the absence of noise is sweet music to my ears.
ADDENDUM
No sooner had I hit the publish post button than a series of little power outages occurred, so I shut down my computer until it seemed safe to reboot. We've also been enjoying the constant movement of the quake faults, a common occurrence in the desert when the temps shift from the chill of winter to the sudden soaring high temps of summer. It settles out after a few weeks, but this year is taking longer to do so as the temps have been all over the board. I can go outside any time of the day or night and not be instantly burned by the blazing sun or flash frozen by the rapid evening drops in temp, a situation that is not common in the desert.
Sell the Concept: Product Sucks!
Along with every other citizen of the United States, I received a coupon for a free Southern chicken sandwich from McDonald's. On my way back from a quick trip up the hill, I realized I was getting headachy and knew I hadn't eaten for more than 4 hours, so I found the drive-through line and ordered my free sandwich.
It is worth every penny of "free," but not much else.
The "sandwich" is a hamburger bun, plain, with a large fried chicken slab and a pickle slice. Yes, that's it. The chicken slab is tasty, as fried chicken slabs go, but the sandwich leaves a lot to desire! Bombarded by the latest ad campaign, I had expectations of ... a sandwich, perhaps with lettuce, tomato and sauce, not a dry bun with a slab of deep-fried chicken on it.
Perhaps the hoopla is attributed to the pickle slice? Is THAT what makes this taste treat a "Southern" chicken sandwich, as compared to any and all other kinds of chicken sandwiches? Because there isn't anything else on the "sandwich" to recommend its purchase!
My guess is that this product will not remain on the menu for long as who wants to spend $3 to get this product when there are so many more attractive and tasty choices on the menu?
It is worth every penny of "free," but not much else.
The "sandwich" is a hamburger bun, plain, with a large fried chicken slab and a pickle slice. Yes, that's it. The chicken slab is tasty, as fried chicken slabs go, but the sandwich leaves a lot to desire! Bombarded by the latest ad campaign, I had expectations of ... a sandwich, perhaps with lettuce, tomato and sauce, not a dry bun with a slab of deep-fried chicken on it.
Perhaps the hoopla is attributed to the pickle slice? Is THAT what makes this taste treat a "Southern" chicken sandwich, as compared to any and all other kinds of chicken sandwiches? Because there isn't anything else on the "sandwich" to recommend its purchase!
My guess is that this product will not remain on the menu for long as who wants to spend $3 to get this product when there are so many more attractive and tasty choices on the menu?
Monday, June 2, 2008
A Quiet Morning
It is so beautiful in the early morning and late evening in the desert, even though the days have warmed into triple digits. Today, I took my fresh oranges tossed with a vanilla yogurt outside to enjoy as the gentle breezes ruffled the leaves on all the plants I've included in the landscaping.
The butterfly bushes are popping with colorful purple blooms, but nary a butterfly in sight. The salvia is also showing little bursts of color, and even the hedge plants along the driveway are showing little dots of yellow here and there. It seems as though what I've accomplished may be firmly in place and ready to weather the extreme desert summer ahead. I am going to purchase a hummingbird feeder for the backyard as a friend who has one enjoys the energetic darting of the tiny birds most of the year.
Mike is supposed to come today to secure the doggie door, and I'm truly hoping he does. Mia sleeps in front of the opening most of the night, but she does come in and claim her couch, usually around 2 am, at which time I lock her in for the duration. I don't want to leave town knowing that my home is not ready to deter potential intruders, even though Mia makes quite a racket when/if anyone/thing comes to her perimeter.
I tried to glue together the craft project and it won't square up, lay flat, and make the frame I need before I do the painting. I'm irritated, but may have to find a Plan B. I wanted to take the finished frames with me cross-country, but that isn't going to happen on this trip.
Son and I worked a few hours yesterday, moving out the larger pieces of furniture that aren't going to move with him. He has many, many boxes left to fill, but is shredding and donating and dumping that which he no longer needs. We're going to tow a trailer, but the size of the trailer depends on the amount of household goods that are moving, so he's trying to pare down what he can, a difficult task at best.
I'm going to make a batch of cookies for the freezer and will take those along with us as we drive from the Pacific to the Atlantic. There are few things in life that aren't improved with a home-baked cookie or three.
The butterfly bushes are popping with colorful purple blooms, but nary a butterfly in sight. The salvia is also showing little bursts of color, and even the hedge plants along the driveway are showing little dots of yellow here and there. It seems as though what I've accomplished may be firmly in place and ready to weather the extreme desert summer ahead. I am going to purchase a hummingbird feeder for the backyard as a friend who has one enjoys the energetic darting of the tiny birds most of the year.
Mike is supposed to come today to secure the doggie door, and I'm truly hoping he does. Mia sleeps in front of the opening most of the night, but she does come in and claim her couch, usually around 2 am, at which time I lock her in for the duration. I don't want to leave town knowing that my home is not ready to deter potential intruders, even though Mia makes quite a racket when/if anyone/thing comes to her perimeter.
I tried to glue together the craft project and it won't square up, lay flat, and make the frame I need before I do the painting. I'm irritated, but may have to find a Plan B. I wanted to take the finished frames with me cross-country, but that isn't going to happen on this trip.
Son and I worked a few hours yesterday, moving out the larger pieces of furniture that aren't going to move with him. He has many, many boxes left to fill, but is shredding and donating and dumping that which he no longer needs. We're going to tow a trailer, but the size of the trailer depends on the amount of household goods that are moving, so he's trying to pare down what he can, a difficult task at best.
I'm going to make a batch of cookies for the freezer and will take those along with us as we drive from the Pacific to the Atlantic. There are few things in life that aren't improved with a home-baked cookie or three.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The Birthday Begins
Thank God MSN didn't forget that today is my special day: I received the birthday greeting from the MSN team when I checked my mail this morning. Talk about warming my heart: it doesn't get much better than this.
My daughter-in-law sent a card that arrived yesterday. I opened it when my friends dropped me off on their way home from our trip to the shore and we all 3 enjoyed a big laugh. The caption reads: "Good news! Paople are living longer than ever!" The zinger inside concludes, "Bad news -- we don't get to choose which people." I've known all along that I like my new family member, but it's equally great that I like her sense of humor.
What a wonderful day at the shore yesterday! My, but it was bright and sunny, the temps just into the 70s, so it was cool and inviting. We ate our lunch outside at a Mediterranean-themed restaurant, sitting on a patio with a wonderful ocean view. Then we wandered to the shoreline and occupied a couple of benches while we talked, and talked, and talked. The time seemed to fly.
Suddenly, it came to us that we were feeling the sun on our sensitive (older) skin, and one friend said to me, "You are really red!" I replied in kind to her, but we had no idea just how RED we were until we stopped for a quick break about 1/2 hour from my house to water the horses and get a bite to eat. Lobster red: both of us. Really, really red lobster red.
During the night, I woke a couple of times to cool the burn on my arms and face and spread another layer of extreme moisturizing creme over the burn. Experience has taught me the value of keeping the skin pliable and moist when it's badly burned as that seems to quicken the healing process and lessen the amount of skin that's going to peel. And it will peel.
The 3 of us who shared lunch in LaJolla talked about days gone by, people gone by, and careers gone by. I had a moment when we were sitting on the bench and sharing our lives that took me back to 1996-97, when our friendship was threatened by another friend who then became our boss in a work situation. While our friendship had seemed strong prior to working together, it was doomed when our relationship became part of our workplace. One of the women needed to have absolute positional and personal power over the others, but that's not how friendship works. We lost our working relationship, as well as our friendship, as the situation became intolerable when she expanded her reign of terror to include the other staff, not just her friends.
She was determined to win at all costs, and she did win -- in her perception. I've always thought of her as the biggest loser, but that's just my perception. She made it quite clear during the reign of terror that her perception was not just her reality, but everyone else's reality, and when that came to pass there was no turning back for any of us.
Isn't it funny that the rest of us are still friends who continue that friendship, while the one who needed the positional and personal power to define who she is lost both her power and her friends? I hope it was worth it in her life, as it changed forever both my life and the other friend she targeted along with me. Both of us survived, moved on and changed our lives to accommodate that which we could not change or tolerate in the other circumstance. That was just the way it had to be: not better, not worse, just different.
Enough of this reminiscing! I'm off to scarf the free birthday b'fast and see what I can do to help son! Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me ...
My daughter-in-law sent a card that arrived yesterday. I opened it when my friends dropped me off on their way home from our trip to the shore and we all 3 enjoyed a big laugh. The caption reads: "Good news! Paople are living longer than ever!" The zinger inside concludes, "Bad news -- we don't get to choose which people." I've known all along that I like my new family member, but it's equally great that I like her sense of humor.
What a wonderful day at the shore yesterday! My, but it was bright and sunny, the temps just into the 70s, so it was cool and inviting. We ate our lunch outside at a Mediterranean-themed restaurant, sitting on a patio with a wonderful ocean view. Then we wandered to the shoreline and occupied a couple of benches while we talked, and talked, and talked. The time seemed to fly.
Suddenly, it came to us that we were feeling the sun on our sensitive (older) skin, and one friend said to me, "You are really red!" I replied in kind to her, but we had no idea just how RED we were until we stopped for a quick break about 1/2 hour from my house to water the horses and get a bite to eat. Lobster red: both of us. Really, really red lobster red.
During the night, I woke a couple of times to cool the burn on my arms and face and spread another layer of extreme moisturizing creme over the burn. Experience has taught me the value of keeping the skin pliable and moist when it's badly burned as that seems to quicken the healing process and lessen the amount of skin that's going to peel. And it will peel.
The 3 of us who shared lunch in LaJolla talked about days gone by, people gone by, and careers gone by. I had a moment when we were sitting on the bench and sharing our lives that took me back to 1996-97, when our friendship was threatened by another friend who then became our boss in a work situation. While our friendship had seemed strong prior to working together, it was doomed when our relationship became part of our workplace. One of the women needed to have absolute positional and personal power over the others, but that's not how friendship works. We lost our working relationship, as well as our friendship, as the situation became intolerable when she expanded her reign of terror to include the other staff, not just her friends.
She was determined to win at all costs, and she did win -- in her perception. I've always thought of her as the biggest loser, but that's just my perception. She made it quite clear during the reign of terror that her perception was not just her reality, but everyone else's reality, and when that came to pass there was no turning back for any of us.
Isn't it funny that the rest of us are still friends who continue that friendship, while the one who needed the positional and personal power to define who she is lost both her power and her friends? I hope it was worth it in her life, as it changed forever both my life and the other friend she targeted along with me. Both of us survived, moved on and changed our lives to accommodate that which we could not change or tolerate in the other circumstance. That was just the way it had to be: not better, not worse, just different.
Enough of this reminiscing! I'm off to scarf the free birthday b'fast and see what I can do to help son! Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me ...
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