As a nation we have come to accept that any kind of work done in our homes will require a good amount of waiting. Lots of looking out the window for work trucks and lots of listening for vehicle doors slamming just outside the house.
Have you noticed that nobody sets appointments for an actual time? Work is scheduled within windows of opportunity. Between the time the sun comes up and when it goes down. Still, we have no choice. If we want cable TV, we wait. If we want utilities or phone service, we wait. If we want a new bathtub, a little tiny and not that terribly awesome stinking bathtub.... I wait.
I am in day two of waiting. Yesterday I waited for the demolition crew to arrive, which they did. Then it was another couple hour wait for the plumber. He came too! Yay! My tub should be in and working, right? Naw. It sits in my garage because today I wait for a city inspector to look at what the plumber did.
Did I mention this is ONLY a bathtub? OK. The walls around the tub were taken down too. But I feel as though I could now complete the job. It could/should have been done in a couple of hours once the plumber left. Everything is pre-fab. But alas, there's the inspector's role. For a crummy little bathtub.
So I wait for the inspector today, then IF he or she is here before noon, I can call the remodel crew who MAY come this afternoon and complete the job OR they may come tomorrow. What time tomorrow? Some time after the sun rises and before it sets. If I am lucky. Today is the Friday before a long weekend. Not a good day for work orders.
Deep breaths.
Have a wonderful and safe Memorial Day weekend.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Class of 2012
Imagine the perfect day: gorgeous weather, happy people (mostly), celebration, good food and drink, interesting speech (liberal), AND bag pipes leading the way to the outdoor venue. That's New England. And that also was graduation day 2012 at Roger Williams University School of Law in Bristol, RI. John walked. I was choked up most of the time. My actual view of the graduation was slightly obstructed. No worries. The audio worked. It's over and done.
Onward to the next challenge: bar exam in July!
Below: the kids find a tree branch along cliff walk in New Port, RI. You might see this again on the Christmas card.... And Jenny stands next to Texas flag. All nations and state flags were lined up around the RWU campus.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Cloak of invisibility
I got confirmation yesterday that I am invisible. Again. It's the middle-aged-woman syndrome. We are the Unseen, blended into the cityscape.
I was waiting to be waited on at a tiny and crowded alteration shop. The place always makes me think this is what a sweatshop must look like. Behind the counter you can view the female staff working, about a half dozen, each seated at a sewing machine. Long racks stuffed with clothing divide the backroom.
The space for customers is divided into the tiny counter area and fitting room area. I walked in and did the customary survey: who is ahead of me and who is being fitted, where is the line, is there a line? No one is at the counter.
I deduce that I am to stand at the counter and wait for help. I've been to this mom and pop place multiple times and know they are kind and also busy. I make faces at a little baby, who makes faces back. Dogs and kids like me. I don't know why.
A few minutes into my waiting, this tall 30-something male comes in and walks right past me, throwing his suit jacket onto the top of the counter. Out of nowhere, the shop owner appears at the other side of the counter and they conduct their business!!
What the F**%!!
I am invisible. There's no other explanation. Well, rudeness. There's that.
While I am used to this cloak of invisibility that comes with age, it still got my blood boiling. I was mad at Mr. Jerk who didn't even ASK if I was waiting. That's a law, right? Any person standing between door and counter must be considered AHEAD of any other person coming into establishment AFTER said person who was there FIRST. If it's not the law, then common sense.
I was mad at Mr. Business Owner. Where were you when I was standing there politely exchanging funny faces with the baby? Clothes in hand, I obviously was waiting to be served.
Last, I was disappointed in me. I have been working hard all these years to wash off the nice. Not all of it, but a lot of it. Got it from growing up in South Dakota. We're too polite. We don't like to confront others. No spotlight for me, thanks.
Of course, after Mr. Jerk leaves, I belly up to the counter, tossing my clothing at Mr. Store Owner. Do I let him have it? You decide:
Mr. Store Owner: You can pick up Wednesday after 4.
Me: I need them Tuesday. He writes Tuesday on my ticket. Ha! And, I got the last word.
Me: Thank you very much.
That'll teach him.
I was waiting to be waited on at a tiny and crowded alteration shop. The place always makes me think this is what a sweatshop must look like. Behind the counter you can view the female staff working, about a half dozen, each seated at a sewing machine. Long racks stuffed with clothing divide the backroom.
The space for customers is divided into the tiny counter area and fitting room area. I walked in and did the customary survey: who is ahead of me and who is being fitted, where is the line, is there a line? No one is at the counter.
I deduce that I am to stand at the counter and wait for help. I've been to this mom and pop place multiple times and know they are kind and also busy. I make faces at a little baby, who makes faces back. Dogs and kids like me. I don't know why.
A few minutes into my waiting, this tall 30-something male comes in and walks right past me, throwing his suit jacket onto the top of the counter. Out of nowhere, the shop owner appears at the other side of the counter and they conduct their business!!
What the F**%!!
I am invisible. There's no other explanation. Well, rudeness. There's that.
While I am used to this cloak of invisibility that comes with age, it still got my blood boiling. I was mad at Mr. Jerk who didn't even ASK if I was waiting. That's a law, right? Any person standing between door and counter must be considered AHEAD of any other person coming into establishment AFTER said person who was there FIRST. If it's not the law, then common sense.
I was mad at Mr. Business Owner. Where were you when I was standing there politely exchanging funny faces with the baby? Clothes in hand, I obviously was waiting to be served.
Last, I was disappointed in me. I have been working hard all these years to wash off the nice. Not all of it, but a lot of it. Got it from growing up in South Dakota. We're too polite. We don't like to confront others. No spotlight for me, thanks.
Of course, after Mr. Jerk leaves, I belly up to the counter, tossing my clothing at Mr. Store Owner. Do I let him have it? You decide:
Mr. Store Owner: You can pick up Wednesday after 4.
Me: I need them Tuesday. He writes Tuesday on my ticket. Ha! And, I got the last word.
Me: Thank you very much.
That'll teach him.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Drug dealings
So last night we got out EXPENSIVE heart worm and flea and tick meds to give to our three dogs. These meds are supposed to be given monthly. I say supposed to because we aren't always on it every month. Last night, we were on it. We had just enough supplies to cover our darling doggies.
Recap: We have a 9 year old beagle named Baxter, an 8 year old beagle named Tex, and an 8 year old border collie named Mika. Understand this is not our first rodeo dispensing 2 different meds to 3 dogs. Plus, Tex gets thyroid pills twice a day. We've walked this path. Or so you'd think.
Paul and I gather the 3 dogs in the area of the kitchen where meds disguised as treats are dispensed. There is, as you could imagine, building anticipation. Tails wagging, little bottoms unable to stay seated from sheer excitement.
I commence to deliver meds to Tex. She takes both heart worm and the smelly flea and tick easily. Tex is, well, the greedy one. There's no struggle with the disgusting flea and tick pill. It smells horrible. No matter to Tex. It was covered in bread. Heart worm pills are yummy, no bread needed.
So I say to Paul Tex is done, or something like that and the next thing I see is Paul handing Tex a second dosage of heart worm! Too late, Tex is not gonna turn that down. Did I mention she is quick?
Paul! I gave her one already.
I thought you gave her flea and tick?
Yes, heart worm too. Both pills.
I thought ... now we don't have enough heart worm pills.
We are left with Sophie's Choice: which of our beloveds gets the protection? Which one doesn't? Bax or Mika? Before I can offer a suggestion, such as halving the pill, Paul has tossed the pill to .... you guessed it, Mika. Mika the Wonder Dog. Mika the subject of Paul's artwork. I wonder: if it were between ME and Mika? I can't go there.
The damage is done. We now turn our attention to the lone stinky flea and tick pill left to dispense to Baxter. Now, Baxter has discriminating tastes. She is no Tex. She is gonna detect the stink under the bread and no way is she going to eat it. Going in, I know this. Paul should know this. All we have to do is coax and outsmart a tiny beagle.
Of course my darling and brilliant Paul covers the disgusting thing with soft bread and then with carefree abandon, TOSSES it to Bax who is standing next to ... you guessed it, Tex. We can't even get out a "NO Tex!" before she has it swallowed!! Within a nanosecond of Baxter rejecting the gift, Tex swoops in to accept it for her. Gone. Another double dose.
A little stunned, Paul and I look at each other. What just happened? What do we do now? We look at Bax. We look at Tex. Did I mention these are expensive pills? Will Tex OD? Will Bax get fleas? I can't stop laughing.
Twelve hours later Tex shows no signs of distress. Maybe she spent one of her nine lives (see previous posts about Tex really being a cat... Hermaphrocat). Bax will get her meds today AFTER Paul and I communicate. First course of action: Put Tex in bedroom lockdown until mission accomplished!
Recap: We have a 9 year old beagle named Baxter, an 8 year old beagle named Tex, and an 8 year old border collie named Mika. Understand this is not our first rodeo dispensing 2 different meds to 3 dogs. Plus, Tex gets thyroid pills twice a day. We've walked this path. Or so you'd think.
Paul and I gather the 3 dogs in the area of the kitchen where meds disguised as treats are dispensed. There is, as you could imagine, building anticipation. Tails wagging, little bottoms unable to stay seated from sheer excitement.
I commence to deliver meds to Tex. She takes both heart worm and the smelly flea and tick easily. Tex is, well, the greedy one. There's no struggle with the disgusting flea and tick pill. It smells horrible. No matter to Tex. It was covered in bread. Heart worm pills are yummy, no bread needed.
So I say to Paul Tex is done, or something like that and the next thing I see is Paul handing Tex a second dosage of heart worm! Too late, Tex is not gonna turn that down. Did I mention she is quick?
Paul! I gave her one already.
I thought you gave her flea and tick?
Yes, heart worm too. Both pills.
I thought ... now we don't have enough heart worm pills.
We are left with Sophie's Choice: which of our beloveds gets the protection? Which one doesn't? Bax or Mika? Before I can offer a suggestion, such as halving the pill, Paul has tossed the pill to .... you guessed it, Mika. Mika the Wonder Dog. Mika the subject of Paul's artwork. I wonder: if it were between ME and Mika? I can't go there.
The damage is done. We now turn our attention to the lone stinky flea and tick pill left to dispense to Baxter. Now, Baxter has discriminating tastes. She is no Tex. She is gonna detect the stink under the bread and no way is she going to eat it. Going in, I know this. Paul should know this. All we have to do is coax and outsmart a tiny beagle.
Of course my darling and brilliant Paul covers the disgusting thing with soft bread and then with carefree abandon, TOSSES it to Bax who is standing next to ... you guessed it, Tex. We can't even get out a "NO Tex!" before she has it swallowed!! Within a nanosecond of Baxter rejecting the gift, Tex swoops in to accept it for her. Gone. Another double dose.
A little stunned, Paul and I look at each other. What just happened? What do we do now? We look at Bax. We look at Tex. Did I mention these are expensive pills? Will Tex OD? Will Bax get fleas? I can't stop laughing.
Twelve hours later Tex shows no signs of distress. Maybe she spent one of her nine lives (see previous posts about Tex really being a cat... Hermaphrocat). Bax will get her meds today AFTER Paul and I communicate. First course of action: Put Tex in bedroom lockdown until mission accomplished!
Monday, May 7, 2012
So busy doing Nothing
Since unemployment - end of February - I feel my time has increased in value. I am sooo busy doing Nothing. Nothing with a capital N. Sometimes I also do nothing with a lowercase n, mostly watch too much TV, YouTube, FB. But the capital N nothings are the kinds of things that give me a sense of accomplishment these days.
The capital N nothings are the things you list when asked the, "What did you do today?" question. Most days my answer: I wrote a little bit (this blog counts). I cleaned something. I exercised. I babysat a grandchild, which I do almost every day now for a couple of hours. I drove someone to the airport (did that once because I was the one available during the day). I ran errands. I had lunch with friends (that counts). One day I helped a lost and wandering elderly woman in our neighborhood find her way home (called 911 and rode in police car because she wouldn't get in unless I did).
These are things I consider capital N nothings. There are, however, other capital N nothings I have rediscovered. They are accomplishments as well, but harder to quantify. Such as thinking. Reading something and giving it more than a couple of seconds of thought. Then reading more about that something. Listening. There seems to be more listening, which kind of overlaps with thinking. More listening to music, more listening to people, more conversations with family members. Stuff like that. Capital N stuff.
I am so fortunate that I can take this time to do Nothing, most people cannot. I don't need the income to pay the mortgage or put food on the table. I have a sugar daddy for that.
Doing Nothing adds value to my life ... for now. The master plan is to be back at work by the end of this year. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep very busy doing Nothing!!!
.
The capital N nothings are the things you list when asked the, "What did you do today?" question. Most days my answer: I wrote a little bit (this blog counts). I cleaned something. I exercised. I babysat a grandchild, which I do almost every day now for a couple of hours. I drove someone to the airport (did that once because I was the one available during the day). I ran errands. I had lunch with friends (that counts). One day I helped a lost and wandering elderly woman in our neighborhood find her way home (called 911 and rode in police car because she wouldn't get in unless I did).
These are things I consider capital N nothings. There are, however, other capital N nothings I have rediscovered. They are accomplishments as well, but harder to quantify. Such as thinking. Reading something and giving it more than a couple of seconds of thought. Then reading more about that something. Listening. There seems to be more listening, which kind of overlaps with thinking. More listening to music, more listening to people, more conversations with family members. Stuff like that. Capital N stuff.
I am so fortunate that I can take this time to do Nothing, most people cannot. I don't need the income to pay the mortgage or put food on the table. I have a sugar daddy for that.
Doing Nothing adds value to my life ... for now. The master plan is to be back at work by the end of this year. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep very busy doing Nothing!!!
.
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