Hey, at least I get another day off...

Sometime between Friday night and now, whatever bug bit my husband glommed onto me and now I feel like crap. 

Pretty sure this is the bug.

I should have been suspicious yesterday when, although I'd slept about 10 hours (not consecutive ones) the night before, I still felt really tired and had a little headache. I made the decision that I probably needed a nap and slept for over two hours.

When I woke up, I still had a headache, but not as bad. I ate a small dinner and went back to bed about midnight.  

Again didn't get consecutive long hours of sleep, (I'm 65 years old and must visit the bathroom at least twice a night) but I still slept about 10 hours total.

In that way that old married couples have, there are some inside jokes about the middle of the night pee parade. Sometimes he gets up and goes and when he gets back in bed it wakes me up and I get up and go, sometimes the other way 'round. 

We make jokes about it, calling each other copycat. When Eric gets back in bed and is adjusting blankets and getting comfortable, I accuse him of 'thrashing around' and make vague threats about what I am going to do about it.

We make jokes about his 'prostrate'. Yeah, I know that's incorrect, but the incorrect usage of the word made it into the old married people lexicon back in 2006 because of one of my Goodwill stories. 

I saw two older ladies shopping at Goodwill. 
They were companionably pushing their carts side by side in an aisle that was really too small for that, as evidenced by the things that fell off the shelves as they passed. They took turns picking up things behind them, but after a large wooden shelf fell to the floor, the first lady bent down to pick it up, even though it was lady #2 who knocked it over.
"Thanks," Lady #2 said to #1. "I can't get up and down so good these days, I seem to wet a bit. I think my prostrate is acting up."

So I realized about two hours ago that the reason I still have a headache and feel crappy is that I'm sick.

I'll be going back to bed in about 15 minutes. 
That's long enough for my electric blanket to heat my side of the bed before I crawl in.

Since tomorrow is a federal holiday, our school and company are closed. Hopefully I can take it easy and make it back to work on Tuesday.

William was out on Wednesday and Thursday with the same kind of bug, too. I may have picked it up at my school, but I'm guessing it was from living in the same house with the man. Not giving each other hugs isn't a possibility. We *have* kept our lips apart, but you know, he's been coughing and coughing.  Yippee.

I'm hoping that I feel well enough to do some work prep. 
I have paid prep hours every weekday, although I really don't pay attention to how much extra time I put in. I work on weekends, I work at night, I work on holidays. Since my work is play, it's really hard for me to find a way to complain about it.

My goal is to have some 'sub bags' prepared. Everything needed for craft projects in a big ziplock bag. I have a few planned, but haven't made them yet.

This means I have to feel a lot better by Tuesday, because I want to be at work.

::sniffle::: 

A long long time ago...

Today is our 45th wedding anniversary.

I've been asked so many times what the 'secret' is, but there isn't a secret at all. 
It's mostly picking up the slack when the other person can't do whatever it is that needs doing and being each other's biggest fan and strongest supporter.

Another secret?  Realizing about 10 years in that by now, no one else would want either one of us. 
::snort::

Two kids who got married, neither one with a clue about what it really meant and no concept of the future.

Huh.

Time goes so fast.
Take advantage of the time you have with people you love.
I would marry him again.

Anniversary of Sorts

4th of July, 1980.

We were living in Montrose, Colorado.
Eric and I drove up to Ouray to wander around and then watch the fireworks. Back then (not sure if they do it now) people sat somewhere in the valley while the fireworks were set off from the side of the mountain above. You could sit anywhere in town and watch, the view was great.

We sat on a blanket on the hood of the car and leaned against the windshield. 

Had a Buick sailboat. 
Can't remember what kind, half a minute while I look it up. 
Ah. Electra. Big and black and super comfy.

While we watched the fireworks we started talking about what things would be like after we were married. 

There was no big proposal, no fanfare. Well, unless you count the fireworks.

He bought me a ring that day. 
It had a black diamond, or should say 'has'. I can't wear it now, my fingers, like the rest of me, are no longer small and elegant. It's on the chain with my family tree necklace and I wear it every day.

That was July 4th.
It wasn't even four months later that we were married.
November 1st that same year.

I had no concept of the future, or what it would look like, but I knew who I wanted to be with.

45 years went by awfully fast.

Remember this.

One of the reasons I write here is so I will remember things that happened.
Not always big things, but those, too.

Writing stuff down has always helped me get a better picture in my head. The realization that the mental illness in my childhood home wasn't just my dad but my mom, too, came to me after reading back over a few old posts here.

Yeah, there was some discussion with the man, too. But looking back with clarity has been helped by having all the stuff I've written in one place.

I realized the other day that there's not a lot of day to day stuff here. Like things that are going on in my life that aren't of great importance but still, it's life.

So I thought I'd tell you about our shopping trip to Costco this morning.
It's about 12 minutes from here to Costco.
It's close, but I hate going.
Busy parking lot, busy inside the store, busy trying to leave.

Pro tip to the little elderly lady who stepped behind me as I was backing out (!!) A CAR THAT WAS MANUFACTURED IN 2012 DOES NOT HAVE A BACKUP CAMERA AND YOU'RE LUCKY I PAY ATTENTION!!

They open at 10. If you're crazy enough to get there at 9:45 or so (I'm not quite that crazy) the people lined up at the door look like the line at the gates to get into Disneyland.

Ha, back in the 80s we lived about an hour away.
I was nutty enough to line up early at the gates down there in Anaheim on I think four occasions. One of them was Labor Day weekend 1986.

Which, if you care sufficiently to do the math, was the day of Matt's essential beginning. Guess we weren't too tired after a day of Disney to do more adult things. Haha.

When we took both kids in 1996 we were there at opening, too.

I have now been there enough times to be perfectly fine never going again.
Besides, I don't want to get pregnant.

So I got out of bed at 8:30. It was a struggle, I was awake from 4:30 to a little after six this morning. I stayed up until almost midnight last night. Between the two, I felt like crap when the alarm went off.

But it's easier to go and be done before people get out of church and the place fills up with even more people in search of cheap toilet paper, hallway rugs, laundry soap and big jars of chopped garlic, which we refer to in our house as Jarlic.

I think it was Chef Ramsay who said that if you use garlic from a jar you don't deserve to eat.
Haha.

It's okay, though. I doubt he'll be coming over for dinner any time soon.
I'll update you if he does.

So we were in Costco and foraging... gathering stuff, you know, Costco shit.
Aluminum foil, laundry soap. The big plastic shelving units that are designed for plastic totes or other large unwieldy items.

When Lyssa and Mason moved out, they left a bit of stuff they don't have room for. A big assed floor jack, bunch of tools. Not sure what all. It's not an issue, but I wanted those things up off the floor. I have a lot of things for work, too. I have said before that I could open my own after school program with the stuff I have on hand. Not joking. In the spare room I have a big pile of stuff that I saved for work but don't exactly have room for at my site. I try to rotate things in and out. It's a little extra work, but I am glad to have the stuff I need, too.

Also in that room are paper towels and toilet paper, aluminum foil, big assed packs of water. Things like the vacuum cleaner, miscellaneous crap that we don't have a place for somewhere else. So we already had two shelf units in there, but today we added a third.

Okay, so back to the crowded aisles at Costco and the fact that one cart wasn't enough. So we decided I would wait next to the big display of wine which was on the edge of one of the really wide aisles and a straight shot to the checkout counters. Most likely place to snag an empty cart without having to go back to the entrance.

I stood there for about five minutes, watching for him to come back. I finally saw him heading my way. He looked my direction, but I'm short and a tall couple had paused where he couldn't see me. I watched him turn down an aisle about four aisles away. I guess he didn't remember where he left me.

Okay, no problem. I rummaged in my purse for my phone and called him.

It rang five times, then went to voice mail.

::sigh::

So I dialed it again.
This time it rang six times.
And went to voice mail.

It did that the other four times I called in the next three minutes.

I saw a lady look at my cart from about 15 feet away, do a double take, and then head toward me in a purposeful way.

"Could you please, please tell me where you found the napkins?" she asked. "I have looked all over the damn store!"

"Oh, they're over there in the section with the aluminum foil and restaurant stuff." I pointed.

"THANK YOU!" She started to walk away, then stopped. "You'd think they'd have it over here by the paper towels and toilet paper. Hmph."

I agreed, and added that I was charging 20 bucks for locator service today, but if she could tell me where to find my husband, I would waive the fee. She laughed. "You're funny!" she said. Huh.

I tried calling Eric again.
Voicemail.

Finally started walking toward the last place I'd seen him, not made easier by the armada of shopping carts piloted by a thundering herd of idiots with zero spatial awareness and shitty manners.

I guess I wasn't there to see a display of manners.
Or at least not good ones.

I finally caught up with the man, he had one package of paper towels and one package of toilet paper in his cart. Oh come on. No point in going to Costco if you don't stock up! So we maneuvered our way back to the pallets of paper stuff and grabbed one more of each.

We bought two big packs of toilet paper and two paper towels. Napkins and laundry soap and a big rug for the entryway.

I asked him why he didn't answer his phone.
He checked it.
"It's on vibrate," he told me.
In imitation of what he always says to me because mine is always either set to vibrate or is silenced.  I said, "You need to answer your fucking phone."

Tomorrow is an exciting shopping day, I'm going to go pick up my daughter and do some thrift store shopping.

I'm hoping for people who have a little more spatial awareness.

I have to go back to work on Thursday. No school, just full day sessions at the office on Thursday and Friday. In order to keep our license up to date, we are required a certain number of training hours yearly. We get paid to be there. They feed us lunch (I pack my own, thanks) and I usually manage to learn something although there's always one of those people at every session, you know the kind I mean.

Someone who needs to tell you an anecdote about every single point brought up. Needs to prove she (it's almost always a girl person) knows what she's doing and probably does it better than you.

So I bring art supplies and materials for weaving/knotting and try to ignore the stupid.

What are you up to?

So this happened...

On Halloween, the company my hubby worked for (23 years, I think...) closed its doors. Bankrupt.

The married couple who owned the business has finished their partnership, too.
I'm not surprised by that, either.
But it's not my story to tell.

There are always signs that a business is having trouble, and we'd seen them.

I didn't like his employer.
There were salary cuts, they took away his vacation pay, and for every good thing about the job, there were six things that pissed me off.
But it wasn't my job and I'm not the one who had to show up every day. Which he did... sick, feeling good, after a fall that broke ribs and he didn't go to the damn doctor... I could go on for hours and hours about all the bullshit my amazingly reliable and dedicated husband put up with, but that's not my story to tell either.

But the arrogant ass he had worked for invited him to meet last week for a possible 'partnership' opportunity.

The guy has already accepted a regular job and signed a two year contract, by the way.

All my husband needed to do to join the "partnership" was to use OUR good credit and run things for two years. Oh,  and put up 10 grand to 'get things started'.

So after watching the guy make terrible business decisions for more than 20 years, seeing him run the whole thing into the ground and the implosion of the guy's marriage as well, he thought maybe Eric would like to continue that great relationship.

Huh.

So I know it's not appropriate, but I'd really like to get a look at this guy's balls. They must be as big as an elephant's.

Anniversary

It's not that it wasn't on my mind.

Another year has passed, and as of November 1st, it's officially 38 years since Eric and I got married. When we got married, I didn't consider the future much. I knew I loved the guy. That's it.

That hasn't changed. He's still my favorite person. I have no regret about marrying so young or about the person I chose to spend my life with.

But I didn't consider what that life sentence actually meant. :)

I was considering the passage of time as I always do. Being astounded about the amount of time that has passed.  Similar to my thoughts about having babies before we actually did.

When we wanted to have a baby, we thought about a sweet little creature that snuggles up by your neck and makes squeaking noises. A little cherub with soft baby hair and chubby tiny fists. Itty bitty feet. Cute little voice and nothing but love.

And yes, we got that. But we didn't consider vaccinations. Introduction to solid food. Toilet training. School and dating and braces and kids learning to drive... well, I pretty much didn't think of any of that. And that they grow up and they go away. They get married, they fall in love (I guess in reverse order... haha) and BAM! They're gone. Having lives somewhere else not with us.

Oops. Digression. Something I do very well. Hey, everyone has a talent.

When we considered getting married, I didn't get much further in my thinking than being able to be with Eric all the time instead of having to say goodbye to him every evening.

I didn't approach marriage OR parenthood with deep thought, although I've put a whole lot of it in since then.

We have been fortunate in our relationship, we grew up together instead of growing apart. My initial liking for him has never faded. Instead, it's grown stronger and the realization that he's one of the best people I've ever known has grown, too. I'm so glad that we found each other. That we balance each other and that we're willing to be what the other person needs, regardless of how much it changes from day to day.

He's a great friend, a wonderful partner. Dad and friend to his children, a person of integrity and depth and heart.

So 38 years ago, even though I wasn't actually thinking clearly, I did the smartest thing I've ever done.

Just a little baby

While we were getting ready for bed on Wednesday night, I heard a little squeaky, raspy sound out front.

I told Eric, "It sounds like a kitten." He agreed.

He went outside with a flashlight, wandered around the front yard for about 10 minutes and found nothing.

We heard the little thing all night long. And he went outside at least four or five more times, looking for it.

As soon as he got to the end of the yard, the noise would stop. Every time.

While we were in the house getting ready for work, we could hear it. It was sounding pretty hoarse. We could tell that whatever it was had no reserves left. It sounded so weak. And helpless. So after it got light out and it was time to go to work, we both went out again, seeing if we could see anything.

Nothing. As soon as we got to the end of the yard, the noises stopped.

Nothing else we could do. Neither one of us slept worth a damn during the night and we'd tried. Got into our respective vehicles and drove off in the usual opposite directions.

When I walked into work, my business phone was ringing.

Eric.

"Mental Daycare Inc."

"Well, I found it."

"You did?? What? Where?"

"It's a kitten. It was in the engine of my truck."

"Oh no. Oh my god, is it dead?"

"Nope. Just has a little oil on it. I got out of my truck to get coffee and could hear it under the hood."

So we figured that he'd take the baby back home and hand it off to our daughter to take care of until the animal shelter opened.

I came home after my shift and checked up on it. Tiny little thing, about the size of a beanie baby.

After Lyssa looked it up on the internet we figured it was about three weeks old.

Lyssa said it had hissed and scratched and been fearful when she first tried to handle it, but that it had calmed down.

This is what the little thing looked like.

When Eric handed it off to her, it was lethargic and not doing very well, I'm sure that had something to do with the stress of losing its mom (we don't know what happened to the mother or how the little one was abandoned) and then crying all night long and getting no response. Oh, and taking a ten minute ride inside the engine compartment of a Ford F-150 after all of that.

One more little stress factor... Eric had put it in the cab of the truck to bring it back home, it was freaked out and hid up behind the glove box. It crawled into some sort of hole back there and Eric had to tear off some of the stuff inside the truck to get to it.

So it was panicky and shaking and at the end of its endurance when he brought it home.

It wasn't even weaned yet, had no idea what to do with food or milk until Lyssa got a dropper to feed it. Then it knew what to do.

Here's the thing. Sometimes, particularly when he's running a little late like he was on Thursday morning, he doesn't stop for coffee. If he hadn't, he would have driven the 30+ minutes to work and that little baby would have died from the heat in the engine compartment. Either that or it would have fallen out and been crushed on the highway.

So we couldn't keep it.
We don't want a cat, there are allergies in the family, and having no pets is working very well for us right now.

I called the animal shelter from the parking lot OF the animal shelter about 8 on Thursday. It's on my way home from work. But I got their answering service, because get this... they don't even open until noon! There were cars all over the parking lot, animal control trucks leaving the lot, dogs barking. But the person on the other end of the phone said that unless it was an emergency, they don't open until noon.

What the hell are my tax dollars being spent on? They charge a ridiculous amount just for the privilege of owning a pet in this county, too. Gah.

So after stopping here at home for a few minutes to check in with Lyssa and the baby,  I went to the monthly site director meeting on the other damn side of town.

When I came home, Lyssa had zipped the little critter into her sweatshirt and they were both napping.

It stayed in her sweatshirt while we drove to the animal shelter and snuggled up with her until she handed it off to the person there.

We learned while waiting that it will be fostered until it's ready to be adopted. There was a lady there with a pet carrier full of kittens. She's a kitty foster parent. The kittens she had looked very much like the one we brought in, only quite a bit bigger and more mature. She said they were about ready to be adopted.

I know that kittens are easy to find homes for. And one advantage of getting a cat from a shelter, you're required to have it spayed/neutered. So you don't end up with abandoned babies in truck engines.

So I am pretty sure the story will have a happy ending. I'm glad the little thing wasn't eaten by a raccoon or some other animal while it cried outside our house all night, and glad Lyssa was home to try to take care of it. Although if she hadn't been home, I would have had to miss the site director meeting to take care of things, so there's that.

I didn't understand when I was younger why it was important to spay and neuter pets.

I posted a photo of the little thing on FB with a small amount of the story and a hope that people will take care of that little operation with their adopted critters.

I'm not a cat person.
But it was awfully hard to see Lyssa hand that baby off to the lady at the shelter.

Childish Capers

Eric makes me laugh all the time.
We work to make each other laugh, actually.

Our latest silly thing is making everything on the grocery list start with a C.

It originally started because I had a few things to get at the store on my way home from work and forgot to bring the list. So while the stuff was still fresh in my mind, I made a C list.

The items were
pizza crust
eyedrops
milk
quik
money


So, crust, clear eyes, cow juice, chocolate and cash.

Today I needed to stop and get gas (we use the Fred Meyer gas station 'cause we get anywhere from 10 to 100 cents off per gallon, depending on how much we spend. We spend a lot, I should just have my paycheck deposited at Freddy's.

celery, bread, milk, bandages, heartburn stuff, peanut butter, orange juice...

Obviously the celery can't just be called celery, am I right? So it's Crunchy Green Stalk. The bread is Crusty Goodness, bandages are Cut Repair, heartburn stuff is Cimetidine, peanut butter is Creamy spread, orange juice is Citrus Cocktail.

The gas? Car Go.

Thankfully, cookies start with C already.

It's growing on me...

Eric made this in 2009. He said it would have cost a buttload of money if we'd had to pay the company he works for to do it. But he saved all the plants from jobs for years (they tear out the old landscape before installing the new one) and we didn't have to pay for very many plants.

Things have gotten much bigger. I love the way it looks.
The man is an artist.

2009

2009

2010

2010

2017

2017

2017

2017

What have I been up to??

School being canceled for the last week meant more time to do art projects, laundry, dishes and watch stuff on Netflix.

I've been binge watching Deep Space 9. I liked it when it was on TV, but didn't watch much of it, I was really the only person who enjoyed it.

I think we just sort of lost interest. Didn't watch it anymore.
I don't remember it being canceled.

But while browsing I came across the series, thought 'why not' and started watching over the holiday break.

I notice when watching things on Netflix that I watch differently than I used to. I used to just watch. But I'm watching this on my laptop, so I watch the show, I draw, look at Facebook, read my email, chat with friends and play Rat Poker. Rat Poker is a really fun game of organizing and quick thinking. We got a copy of it with our first computer. It was designed for Windows 95. I keep putting it on all my computers. Every time I get a new one, I drive myself nuts looking for the disc so I can load it.

The other thing I do while watching Netflix on my laptop is look up who played certain characters and makeup they wore and other shows they were in. I find it fascinating.

There's a recurring character, Hupyrian manservant Maihar'du, played by an actor who calls himself Tiny Ron. He's not tiny, he's seven feet tall. He's been in a lot of different movies and television shows. He plays the guy who follows the Grand Nagus around. Grand Nagus is played by Wallace Shawn, who was in the Princess Bride. I know, I know... INCONCEIVABLE!

I knew Tiny Ron's dad and stepmother when I lived in Southern California. I sang in the same community choir and stage group with Bea for several years. She was a kind person, with a great sense of humor and a wish to do good things for people.

His dad, Bob, played Santa for many, many years. I have a photo of 6 month and 18 month old Matt sitting on his lap. We left Southern Cal when Matt was 21 months old, so there were no more photos.

It's amazing to me that we left there 28 years ago. Time flies.

So I watched a lot of Netflix. Sat here at the table and tried to keep warm. Drew a few pictures, colored some of the things I'd drawn. Bought some things on Amazon... ice cleats are here. 

Since I'm prepared by having them, I'm sure that means it's not going to snow again this winter. No more ice, no more snow, no more being cooped up in the house. That's okay with me, it's worth the ten bucks.

Went back to work today.
The kids were wired. All of them said they wished they'd been able to sleep in instead of having to get up and go to school.

Me too. Eric got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and that little bit of time was enough for him to get really cold. He's been sick. :(

So I got up and heated up one of the grain-filled hot pack things in the microwave for his front and I snuggled up to his back.

We were awake and asleep and awake and asleep half a dozen times last night. I ended up with a nasty headache that lasted until I was home from my morning shift and able to sleep a bit more.

I'll give you a play by play account of 'unappropriate' behavior tomorrow. For now, I will just remind you that kids are funny.

What are you up to?

What goes around

I've talked before about doing small things for people when I see a need. I try to do those things so that the recipient(s) don't know who did it, because after being on the receiving end more than once, I learned that it's easier when you don't know.

Sometimes, though, people know where help comes from.

Take today for example.

Eric is off work.

The equipment they would need to use is currently frozen to the ground and they're not able to work. That doesn't help with the bills, since he isn't getting paid, but it's good for him to have the time off all the same. He doesn't get a lot of time off.

He took my little car to the tire shop today to have a tire fixed. Has had a slow leak for awhile, and finally went almost flat yesterday. He used a can of fix-a-flat and put air in the tire until he could get it in to get fixed.

While he was waiting for the tire, he walked over to the 7-11 to get some orange juice. There was a guy outside, asking people for spare change. I'm not sure how Eric ended up in a conversation with him.

The guy was recently homeless, something that had never happened to him before. He explained his circumstances to Eric, and said that he has a job waiting if he can get boots. They had a long conversation, actually

Eric, who is an excellent judge of character (hey, he married me, didn't he?) said that he has heard a LOT of hard luck stories. From a lot of different people. And that most of the time, he does not believe what they tell him for various reasons.

He believed this guy. He ended up taking the guy to a store and buying him a pair of boots. He said that even if the guy was lying (and he was 99% certain that he was being truthful) that he still needed shoes.

He said the guy teared up and thanked him profusely. He wanted a post office box or something so he could repay Eric for the boots and Eric told him the same thing he's told other people. That someday he will be in a position to help someone, and that he should do that.

I don't think an act of kindness is ever wasted.
And that what really matters are your intentions.

Sure, you can give the bum on the corner five bucks and he may spend it on alcohol or other drugs. 
Or he may really need help and you just helped him.
You might never know.

I'm perfectly fine with it, of course.

He has a young guy, really just barely out of his teens, who currently works with him who's chronically hungry. Through circumstances, some beyond the guy's control and some stupid choices, he's usually underfed. Or not fed at all.  Eric has started just packing an extra large lunch and feeding the guy. Just because he's made some dumb decisions doesn't make him any less hungry, now does it?

And Eric said he can't sit there and eat lunch in front of the guy, knowing that he hasn't eaten.

I married a good man.

Morning News

We have a routine around here in the morning.

Eric gets up at 4:45 so he can be out of the bathroom when I get up at 5. We only have one bathroom, so I think it's pretty nice of him to sacrifice that extra 15 minutes of sleep for me.

I get up at 5.

Eric is in the kitchen when I get up, we sort of growl toward each other. Too early for actual conversation. No hugs. No talking. We're both intent on doing what we need to do. He goes on making his lunch while I stagger into the bathroom, turn on hot water and lean helplessly against the wall in the shower while it pours over my head. I don't drink coffee, so the hot water serves as my wake up.

When I'm out of the shower/bathroom at 5:20, I'm awake enough to listen to his commentary as he watches the news. He talks back to the reporters who are, "LIVE!! On the scene where something happened yesterday. Or the day before. Or we aren't sure what happened but it was something!"

He calls them names, tells them they're being stupid, wonders aloud, 'what the fuck are you yammering about now, you moron?' and generally keeps me snickering while I'm in here with my computer, checking email and Facebook and making sure all the notes I texted to myself during the night when I was trying to sleep and kept waking up and obsessing are taken care of.

I laugh every morning, really. Even the most horrible stories are reported on by the local news team in a way that causes the smartass in Eric to come out and talk.

He gives many of the reporters nicknames. One of the girls on the channel he watches used to always have something to hold to illustrate the story... a jacket, shoes, an iPhone, rocks... whatever she could show to the viewers while she was talking. He called her 'Prop Girl'. Prop Girl has moved on, now. Not sure where.

Some of the names he gives them would probably be offensive to some people, you'd have to know him to really get it. I'm not offended, he cracks me up. He's very irreverent and snarky and has a skewed sense of humor. One of the reasons I love him.

So Marilyn Deutsch is 'Marilyn Douche'.

"She's the most irritating fucking person I've ever heard on the news," he says. She really is annoying, her voice is like a compilation of 20 years of her reporting, cut into bits and pasted back together. She emphasizes the wrong syllables and does this annoying head shake thing. Drives him nuts.

Andy I-can't-remember-his-last-name is 'Mincing Andy' and then there's 'Prancing Tony'.
And Shawna Parsons, whom I have met (she is a very nice person and was involved in some Girl Scout stuff), well, Eric calls her 'Man Face'.

There have been many reporters going through the station's revolving door. I know they move around a lot, we have a reporter in our family, actually.

The latest nicknamed-by-my-hubby reporter is Kandra Kent.
Doesn't that sound like a made up just for the news name?
Not that it matters, he calls her 'The Calliope'.

Her voice goes up and down and up and down and up and down. You almost expect a carousel horse to go along with it. It's pretty funny.

So this morning she was reporting on a shooting that happened down the road a bit. The camera zoomed in on some police officers who were rummaging through a dumpster right behind her.

She tunefully informed us that 'these officers are digging in the trash, but we don't know if it's related to the case'.

Both Eric and I cracked up at that one.
He said, "Not sure if it's related to the case? They're cops, not raccoons. Not digging through the trash for doughnuts, Calliope!!"

Anyway, by the time we're both up and ready for work... showered and bathroomed and fed and ready to head out, we're able to speak to each other and even hug. And kiss. And hug again. Say goodbye for the day.

I find myself recalling something he's said to one of the news stories off and on during the day and laughing at odd times.

And really, sometimes don't you just need to laugh?

It's July 4th.

It's the 4th of July.
And you know what that means.

No, not fireworks and freedom and food. Well, yes to those things, too.

But.

It means that once again, my sentimental attachment to this day needs to be remarked upon.

It was on this day in 1980 that Eric and I decided to get married. And although it hasn't been easy or simple or anything like a fairy tale, we have made a good life together and I wouldn't change any of it.

I picked a good, strong man. Muscle strong, yes, but I mean strong in ways that don't always show on the outside. He has always put me first. When we had children, he put them first. And made no complaint when I put them first, too.

He's my biggest fan. The person whose opinion I value above anyone else's. The person I know for sure will be on my side no matter what.

There was no romantic proposal. No one knelt down and held up a ring. No one even said, 'Will you marry me?'

We just started talking that evening about 'when we are married'.

And here we are, 36 years later.

That slender, beautiful girl from back then is no longer showing on the outside. The woman that she became is sporting some interesting scars, her always-hidden tummy looks like a contour map of the Rocky Mountains, she has some gray hair showing... but on the inside, she never got older than about 25. There aren't many things about that woman that are still exactly the same as they were then, I think she grew up. But I'm glad she picked out the guy I'm married to now.

Over the river....

And through the woods... I'm sure your mind is already singing the rest of the song. Yes?

We packed up our little car and headed for John Day, Oregon on the evening of the 23rd. Lyssa and I had dental appointments in Sandy that afternoon, although in retrospect, once we'd decided to spend our Christmas away from home, (Eric's idea a couple weeks ago) we should have canceled the appointments.

Thing was, Lyssa was gone for almost a year and did not see a dentist in that time, so I wanted to make sure we kept her appointment.

I hadn't gone, either. I kept putting off the six month checkup until a whole year had passed for me, too.

It's about a four and a half hour drive to my parent's house from Sandy when the weather is good.

However, we were required to chain up the car to go up Mt. Hood. I say 'we', but it was my husband out there kneeling in the ice and snow, putting chains on our tires next to the road while the invincible people with 4wd and a deathwish whizzed by like fucking maniacs. At least he was on the passenger side of the car when the vehicle that sprayed our entire car with slush and ice passed. Assholes.

Eric never complains about the things he's forced to do to take care of his family, either. Just thought I'd add here that I married an amazing man.

When we got to the top, traffic was at a standstill. Apparently big trucks trying to come up the OTHER side could not get up the hill and they were towing them. One. At. A. Time. While traffic just sat. And sat. And sat. We ended up on the road for 9.5 hours. Possibly we were a little tired and more than a little crabby when we arrived at our destination at about 20 minutes past midnight. It was friggin' freezing, snow and ice and clear skies.

Checked in at our motel, then took Lyssa up to my mom and dad's house. She decided to take advantage of their guest room (she and my mom are particularly close) and we decided to sleep in a big bed in a quiet place.

Matt and Amy were able to come for Christmas, too, but we did not tell my parents they'd be there. They arrived about noon on Christmas Day. I was cooking in the kitchen and saw them approaching the door. I made them stand in the kitchen for a moment so I could go around the other way and see the look on my mom's face when they walked in. Her mouth fell open and stayed open for a good 30 seconds. A nice surprise.

There's more. We had a lovely time with family, sang some songs and opened presents and ate way more sugar than we should. More of everything else, too.

But those are things that are mostly interesting to me.
However, "they" say a picture is worth, well, a lot.
So here are a few.

Me with Mom and Dad. And Daisy. Who is not a dog, but a Tasmanian Devil.
My stupid brother thought it would be a good idea to get two elderly people who don't get around very well a Jack Russell Fucking Terrier about six years ago.

Alyssa, Matt, Amy, Me, My parents. And the Devil.

My son, his lovely wife, my parents and the devil's back.

My beautiful daughter

There was some snow.

The tie dyed pajama shirt I made for Mom. You can see my dad in the background, wearing one I made for him about a hundred years ago.

 

Boo

Did I scare you?
I know it's been awhile since I checked in.

Since I last showed up here, several things have happened.

I was still not feeling well the rest of the week. In fact, I am not at 100% even now, although I'm functioning pretty well.

On Tuesday morning, Eric and Alyssa drove Bob to the airport. EARLY. His flight was at six AM, meaning he wanted to be there about five. I went back to bed after saying goodbye. I was still not feeling very good.

I went to see my doctor on Monday morning and we discussed the whole situation. Another day or so and I would have been dealing with tests and other crazy things, so I'm glad things slowed down when they did.

I had an opportunity to ask her about the instructions found on my bottle(s) of Imodium. The instructions are to take two tablets with your first, um, problem, then one each time you have the same problem. But not to exceed six in a 24 hour period.

Only problem with that is that the explosions were happening six times in twenty four minutes at their worst. Not a good experience. Ugh.

She said that the main danger from taking too many is that it can have the opposite effect. Which is also not good.
"I have geriatric patients who do this all the time," she told me. "And then because things have slowed down, they worry and take a laxative. Apparently they think they need to go every day, and if they haven't, it causes them to mess with their system in a way that's not necessarily good for their health.

So yeah. That has 'passed'. Ha.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All week last week the kids were just bouncing off the walls. And each other. One of the craziest weeks in memory at this job.

They were disrespectful to each other, weren't listening to me, and were physical, crabby and moody and loud. And physical. And mean. And pushing each other around both physically and verbally. I saw actual bullying, three boys ganging up on a fourth. A big surprise, as the boys who were being mean generally would never even consider behaving that way.

The worst part was that the kid they were yelling at hadn't even done anything.

Timmy had brought his book outside and left it on a bench. The wind was fierce and there were leaves and papers and other debris blowing around. When it was time to come in, he walked over to the bench to get his book and found it on the ground. Harry* was the closest person to the bench, so Timmy started yelling at him. "Why did you throw my book on the ground?!!?!"

Harry looked mystified. "Huh?" he said. "I didn't touch your book!"

And then the two Davids joined Timmy in yelling at Harry. They were about six inches from his face, shouting at him. Of course I intervened. And because it had been witnessed by every child in the group, I talked to the three boys in front of the group.

"First, Harry didn't touch your book, Timmy. If you've been paying attention, you know that it's very windy out here. Your book fell on the ground because you didn't weigh it down with anything and you walked away and left it. It's not okay for you to yell at Harry about it. And YOU two," I said, turning to the Davids, "You two have NO business joining in. It's not your book. You had nothing to do with it. All three of you are behaving in an appalling manner. What's it called when several kids gang up on someone like this? Anyone?"

A chorus of "Being a bully/bullying/being mean."

Yeah. That. "And do we do that here?"

Another chorus. Most of the kids said no, except Bill* the class clown, who yelled out an enthusiastic YES.
He thinks he's funny.
And sometimes he actually is.

But he hasn't figured out when to keep his mouth closed yet. I have high hopes that eventually, he will.

I turned to him and said, "Bill. If you don't have something to contribute to this conversation that's helpful, please keep your opinions to yourself. You're not helping with this at all. Did you not notice that Harry is feeling bad and that these three," I gestured toward them, "are causing ugliness in the middle of our group? You shouting out an inappropriate response in the middle of the mess isn't appreciated or wanted. I'm not really thrilled to hear this from you."

He knew better than to say anything else. But he'll do it again. Because he's Bill.

Timmy spent the rest of the afternoon beating himself up. Every time I looked over at him, he was looking down, looking sad. I did go talk with him about it, and told him that the incident was closed. "If you can remember not to do that to someone again, then you've learned from it, Timmy. That's all I ask."

He didn't brighten up a whole lot. One reason I try not to be too hard on him is that he is much meaner to himself than I could ever be to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


And I have more to say. Lots more. But today is our 35th wedding anniversary and we're going to go out and do anniversary-type stuff.
So you'll have to check in tomorrow for more.

35 years. Huh.

An anniversary of sorts

35 years ago today Eric and I decided to get married. There was no touching proposal, there were no flowers or sentimentality.

Instead there was a day spent in the small town of Ouray, Colorado. Festivities of a small town 4th of July coupled with an amazing display of fireworks, which we watched lying on a blanket on the hood of our car, leaned back against the windshield. And while basking in the remembered warmth of the day and the discovery of how deep our friendship had become, we realized we were going to end up married.

He bought me a little tiny ring that day. I still wear that ring on a chain around my neck.

And he's still the best person I know.

Annnnd we're back!

Since I don't know who's reading my blog I don't say I'm leaving town until I come home.

And here I am.

We left on Wednesday, April 1 for our annual coastal getaway. Drove to Depoe Bay, home of practically nothing commercial, lots of ocean views, beaches and whales and seals and sea lions.

My mom and dad have a time share, and I pay the cleaning fees and points etc every year for our anniversary trip and we stay in a condo at the beach.

Every year, we plan our trip around work. We don't want to inconvenience the people we work for/with. Both of us have a work ethic that makes it almost impossible to just take time off. Every year it's two or three days. A long weekend.

And we are so sorry to leave the beach and come back home. All that effort to pack up our stuff, plan meals, remember this and that... and come back home and put it all away. After only three days. ::sigh:::

Not this time, though.

Almost the only time I've had off over the last six years has either been to be sliced and diced due to work injuries/recovery or illness, also due to my job. I work in the middle of a germ factory, and it's always at top production.

I earn a certain amount of vacation time each year, and if I don't use it, I lose it. After what I've gone through for my job, I think that would be a crappy thing, too. To lose that vacation time.

So eleven months ago, we made this year's reservation.
No regrets about taking the time off, either.

We perched on the cliffs overlooking Depoe Bay for six nights and seven days.

I took a lot of photos, which I will bore you with a few at a time over the next few weeks or so.

We got home about 2:30 this afternoon. Plenty of time to put the bathroom supplies away, change the bed, run a load of laundry, unpack suitcases, build a nice fire in the woodstove (it was COLD in this house!!!) and do this and that.

One of the things I cooked while we were at the beach was a big dish of lasagna. We didn't eat all of it, so I cut it into big squares and froze those squares in individual bags with the Food Saver. I will have some nice lunches.

I drink a smoothie every morning, and one of the ingredients is always a banana. There were two of them left this morning, but they didn't like the journey home very much, so I needed to whip them up this evening. They would have been banana soup if I left them out all night. :)

I put the smoothies into shaker jars, and now I have breakfast for Wednesday and Thursday already made.

It will be nice to get back to my kids, but I have to admit that we really had a wonderful time. Can't wait until next year. Because we are definitely doing this again. :)

Harbor Seals
Our little cove was full of them at low tide.

The view from the balcony across the little cove.

When I walked down to see them, they all looked at me. This little one was very interested in me and watched me the whole time.

There were Canadian Geese all over the place. And great piles of goose shit on the lawn. You must step with care while you're there.

Happy Birthday

Today is my husband's birthday.
He is 52 years old.
We have been together 35 years.

If you were to ponder it, you might say, "Hm, that's a long time for two people to be together, considering he was 16 when you two started dating."

You would be correct.

It's amazing to me that we're still together after all this time, except that very early in our relationship, we committed to each other 100%. We learned that standing together was the best thing in the universe.

That foundation we started building back when we were both teenagers and didn't know shit about the world... still there.

We don't do a lot to celebrate birthdays anymore, for either one of us.
But wow, I sure do love this guy. :)

Dating and Drawing

Doing both this evening... movie date with the hubby in the living room.

I am in the process of hauling all my drawing supplies into my little corner and getting my comfy pajammie pants out of the dryer.

We've reached geezerhood.

Funny. Spell check queried pajammie and geezerhood.

We left the house this morning about nine and didn't return until about 3. Goodwill hunting. Then I needed a couple smallish art supplies and some linen textured paper in white, so I hit Office Depot and Michael's. Eric likes to buy the cheap (from 25 cents to a buck) CDs from the cd/game exchange and listen to them. He sometimes finds some gems that way. Often, he finds nothing but crap. But even that has its good side, I can take them to work and use them for crafty things.

Life is good.
I have nothing of importance to say.
Huh. Maybe I should have put that at the top. A sort of disclaimer.
You never know what you're gonna get here. :)

Last Year

I ended up not decorating for the holidaze.
The huge tree we have out in the shed stayed in the shed.
I did pull out a tiny tree we have and set it on top of the computer hutch, but that was pretty much the extent of our decorating.

We discussed decorating, but the house needed cleaning up and no one really wanted to contribute to it. Including me. We talked about what a pain in the ass it is to get everything out for a week or two and then have to put it all away again. I usually wait until the weekend of my birthday to decorate because I always felt like my birthday got lost in the crazy as I was growing up.

So we didn't decorate the weekend of my birthday. Which is exactly two weeks before Christmas. That left one weekend before Christmas. And I weighed getting everything out, enjoying it for only a week and then putting it all away. And no, we don't leave everything out until the new year... as soon as Christmas is over, everything goes back into its boxes. I'm done looking at it.

And so we didn't decorate, or not much. I did put the Christmas tablecloth on, and pulled out the tiny pre-lit tree and little ornaments. I think I did the magnets, too.

When Christmas was over, I regretted not getting everything out.
I regret it even more this year, because of course at the time I didn't realize it would be Lyssa's last Christmas with us.

Let's pause a moment while I get a tissue.

Okay. Back.

This year, I am still dithering. It's just the two of us. And I am the only one of the two who really cares. Eric doesn't have lovely Christmas memories from childhood.

Such a good dad, though. He enjoyed our kids growing up and was much more generous buying them gifts than I would have been on my own. I remember leaving Matt with my friend Patty when he was 5 so Eric and I could go do some shopping. I thought we'd go and buy one big present and some stocking stuffers.

Eric, on the other hand, wanted to buy the entire store. We ended up spending far more money than I would have. And we continued to do that until they grew up. Spent as much as we could and still be able to feed them. I did the layaway thing more than once, sometimes scraping to come up with the payment that was always due at the worst possible time.

Many homeschooling families are the same way... always too much month at the end of the money.

One reason I have been giving away our homeschooling supplies a little bit at a time. As I find stuff, I put it out on the homeschool discussion lists and offer it on a first come first served basis.

I do attach conditions, though. I tell the recipients that I would like them to do likewise. When they're done with stuff, pass it on.

Wow, I've drifted from the topic, haven't I?

So I don't know if I will decorate this year. I'm still on the fence. What it really comes down to is 'will it make me feel better' or will it emphasize the fact that our home, for the first time in 27 years, has no children living in it? Will it make me more sad? (if that's even possible...)