Artistic Meltdown Snit

Today is Day Five of The Project. I anticipate hitting triple digits now before I am all done. I just can't seem to spend much time on it. I got started on it this morning, and completed the floor-ripping-up. Well, except for a couple of little pieces left under the laundry tub legs. The legs are bolted to the floor. I didn't unbolt them yet, so I left a bit of lino under them. I hope they are screws. One way or another, the laws of physics say I can remove them.

Somehow I *forgot* that there is a roughly 2' x 2' laundry room closet, too. I use it every day. Of course there is a floor under all that stuff. I had to drag all the stuff out and put it in a plastic bin, then rip up that floor. However, the little piece that the bottom of the folding door fits in had to come off, so the door is now sitting on the floor in my dining room. The little piece of metal is in my purse because it's a little rusty and I sort of hoped I could get a new one. Maybe it will clean up if I work at it.

Then I started emailing with an old friend who moved to Chicago without telling me and we had some catching up to do. He upset me without meaning to, and the afternoon sort of wiled away. I was at a crossroad anyway, I had to get out and go pick out new flooring.

I put on my big girl pants and went to Benjamin Moore to look at paint. Nothing looked like what I wanted. This made no sense to me at all. I had wanted to scout colors before looking at the flooring. I left and went to Lowe's. I explained to the salesman that I am really a guy, that I don't want to pick anything out, but just want someone else to to that and hand it to me and I will install it. Mr Ponytail was the salesman today, a new unfortunate who had to deal with me. I told him I didn't like anything, either, but had to pick one.

After much discussion, I finally decided I did like one lino tile. That is the good news. The bad news is that all they had in the store was one tile. I felt a bit snitty, but didn't let him know that. I thanked him and told him I would have to think about it and return. No big deal, right? If I can pick one I don't like, then I can return and pick another.

I went to the laundry tub section. There was a choice of very cheap or very expensive. Luckily I had measured height, depth, and width. I also carry a tape measure with me, which earned me big points with that salesman. However, once I decided on very expensive since we aren't talking a basement here, we are talking about my first floor laundry room, we realized they didn't have any. I wasn't surprised.

I started to look at dimmer switches for the kitchen, and decided a meltdown was imminent so I paid and left. I rushed to Home Depot to check their stock, but nothing looked right. By then it was almost 9 pm, so I told Mike (his name was written on his apron in magic marker) I would be back tomorrow so I could drag some tiles outside to check the color in sunlight.

I still felt snitty. I couldn't figure it out for a long time. I decided that the mood I was in and the behavior I was holding back strongly resembled an artistic snit. I have no art, I reminded myself.

Then I thought about it. There are different kinds of art, right? I can design and make my own clothes, but I can't draw them on paper first. Or later, either.

Maybe, just maybe, my lack of interest in decorating has less to do with my talent and more to do with frustration. I don't watch television, I don't read house magazines, I don't go in the stores. Advertising is not telling me what I want. So any ideas I have are my own, and I have to find what I want without having any idea where it is.

It's easier to be a guy. Just let someone else pick it out and I will install it.

Plus, Mike looked disconcertingly like lotzamoe. Just much shorter.

 

Laundry room debacle, days 2, 3, 4

Just go move the washer and dryer out of the room, rip up the old floor, and put the new one in.

Of course.

After I started ripping up the floor, a friend of mine told me that it's perfectly OK to pile 3 layers of linoleum on top of each other. I am very, very glad that I didn't listen. I let my OCD kick in and continued to rip that baby up. When I got under the laundry tub and under where the washer goes, I found stuff between the layers of linoleum.

Oh, gross. I am no germophobe. But you might recall my ears plugged up when I found that black sooty stuff under the washer? Now my sinuses are all plugged up. I don't know what breathing this new discovery will do to me, but I think I am glad I am seeing my doctor in a week or two. I know that this stuff didn't get in there since I started ripping up the floor. It had very obviously been there a long, long time. I will withhold description for the faint of heart.

Just let me say that if the company hadn't gone out of business about 5 years ago their hairy butts would be here fixing this. They would also be giving me a new floor with their compliments.

Gluing just the edges and the seams down might, just might work if you actually do glue them down.

I also forgot that the one shut-off valve was still frozen open in the basement, so the washing machine is still attached. There is one hose I still need to take care of. So far I have pulled out and pushed back the washer three times. I am getting good at this. I always enjoy a new skill.

I will probably have bad dreams until I can get that entire lower layer of linoleum exposed and washed in bleach.

I am thinking about a muted teal colored floor, but the votes are not in yet. Two friends say go with neutrals colors - may I just say that I am fooking sick of neutrals? One said it sounds great. Child hasn't put in her two cents yet, probably because she is afraid I might ask her to help. Usually she gets into decorating, so she probably will have to voice her opinion.

I justnoticed that Baby is afraid of the laundry room now and just peed in the kitchen. Good thing I will be throwing that linoleum out too.

So to recap, day two I spent ripping up more floor. Day three was a day of rest, because I sure won't get the rest done by Wednesday. Today is day four, and I will finish getting the old floor out today, and if I am really lucky, get that last hose off the washer. I will also disconnect the dryer and clean under there (I am glad I passed my last stress test). The floor is all up except under the dryer. I hope to get it washed with bleach tonight because last night I slept half an hour, twice, giving me a total of an hour's sleep.

I also need to replace the laundry tub. That should be a whole separate game that I don't know how to play.

As it is, I am living on Sudafed. I went to take two earlier, and remembered what I had just read about red dyes being made from insect parts. Sudafed is a very pretty bright red.

Wiz, dx

My vet told me today that other than thyroid, Wiz's blood tests were good. I asked her how long I might expect Wiz to live, and she said she didn't know, because Wiz is already past the normal life span of a cat.

Wiz has a hyperthyroid. I asked the vet if it's contagious, and the vet got very, very quiet. I laughed, and said that I wished it could be because I could use to lose weight like Wiz has. She laughed too. She must have thought for a minute that her patient who usually understands the medical information had fallen off her nut.

Wiz has 3 choices. We can surgically remove her thyroid. We can zap her thyroid. We can take pills every day, twice a day, for the rest of her life. I doubt if Wiz can handle anesthesia at age 19, zapping would cost about $1000 and they would keep her for four days (hm, I could get a little sleep), so pills are really the only viable option on that list.

Wiz, however, does not take pills. I have tried. She spits them out, if I can get them in her mouth at all. I had to try the pink liquid antibiotic that most of us have tried to convince kids of it's yummy taste. It's amazing that such a small cat can get liquids on the ceiling.

However, there is another way. The medication can be compounded into chewable treats. The vet had given me some samples, inert tablets, to give Wiz to see if there is a flavor out of the five that she likes.

Wiz just said yes, to all of them. I doubt if I can get a less expensive human equivaent of this because most people do not want chewable tablets flavored in seafood, tuna, liver, chicken, or beef. Understandably so.

The vet also thinks that getting Wiz's thyroid back on keel might, just might, help with the night screams. I hope so. If she manages to get into the basement, there is an echo through the whole house. When she was younger, she would get one of those small superballs and stand at the top of the basement steps, and drop the ball. It sounded eerily like someone walking on the stairs. She would do this for hours. I am a light sleeper. Still, it was an improvement over the cat I had before who liked to flush the toilet for hours.

I wonder which flavor would be best?

Molly has non-functioning adrenal glands, Wiz has a mal-functioning thyroid gland, and I wonder if I should take Baby in to have her pituitary gland tested? This seems to be a glandly family. 

 

Wiz the screamer

I love my cat, and try to ignore the fact that the last time I had a good night's sleep was in Toronto in September. The cat's screaming keeps me awake off and on all night every night. It's disruptive and about to make me go psychotic. Don't worry, you won't notice any change.

The vet said that Wiz is in remarkable shape for her age. She doesn't seem a day over 15, maybe even 12. However, she is now very underweight and has bad gum issues. Even though I didn't feed her first, the vet decided to get the blood results before schedule dental surgery. There are definite possibilities for both diabetes and thyroid issues. Neither surprise me, since Wiz still eats pretty well and drinks a lot of water sometimes. She also throws up a lot.

I will update on Wiz when I get the blood results, which should be tomorrow.

We also had a small discussion about the fact that she overdosed Molly on Percorten for her Addison's Disease. She is no longer denying that she gave Molly too much. Some dogs just need less than the recommended amount, and Molly seems to be one of them. On the bright side, I can probably go as much as 35 days before Molly needs her shot next time.

I will now return to my regularly scheduled Laundry Room Debacle. Are we taking bets regarding my ability to drag a washing machine out of the laundry room, down two stairs, and into the garage? I might even go all out and aim for down the driveway and to the street, although the guys who bring the new appliances will take the old.

Wiz has been meowing and screaming non-stop since I brought her home. Maybe I should feed her now. Oops.

Doctor update

I would almost prefer that they just sent me right into the hospital for a cyst aspiration. Nooo, I have to go back first and get an ultrasound done on my left breast. THEN they will either tell me I am fine or send me for further testing.

Well. At least someone wants to see me naked. There is always a bright side, right?

I am leaving to take Wiz the Screaming Cat to the vet as soon as I take a shower. I do not know if she will be coming home with me or not. Keep us in your thoughts. She is 19 years old and having health issues. I was told no food after midnight, but she just went on top of the refrigerator and opened a bag of milkbones and ate a little of one. She is still agile and creative!

 

Remodeling, Day 1

Dirt brown would be a good color for today. I decided that since I only have until Wednesday of next week to work on the laundry room, I needed to get my backside in gear.

Sounds good, doesn't it? So far I have spent over $1200, just on the washer and dryer. All I have to show for it is a receipt and a new dryer hose for the gas line. Oh, and I bought a new filter for the refrigerator and put that in. I guess that was the first step.

First I had to detrash the laundry room. Stuff that I had brought in the house while cleaning the garage (I haven't finished that yet either) ended up in the laundry room. The kitty litter is in there. Cleaning products, extra rugs, on and on. The room is a collection area, and not in a good way.

I set the timer for 15 minutes. I figure to work in 15 minute increments, and then rest a bit. After 10 minutes, Housework ADD set in and I was ready to do something else. This is why I use the timer - I knew I could make myself stay on task for 15 minutes at a time if I smacked myself around a little.

Once I got the trash out and spread it around the rest of my house, I figured to pull out the washer. It is the dead appliance, after all. The dryer will still work if I have a need for it. I forgot about all the hoses. I started to disconnect a hose, and water leaked out. Hm, water pooled in the washer? I grabbed a bucket and let it drain. And drain. Then it hit me - oh, I guess I need to turn off the water.

No problem, asuming that you remember to keep all the spigots or whatever they are called loose enough to be turnable. All my toilets are loose enough, that is not a mistake I plan to make twice. But the washer has been there over 15 years, and I don't think the water has been turned on and off since it was installed. My bad. Grab the sewing machine oil, squirt some on, and go read email.

Fifteen minutes later, I turned off the water, disconnected the hoses, and looked at the floor under the washer.

Ewwww. I will be considerate and not include pictures of that at this point. I found a sock I haven't seen in years, a glove of Child's, a dried up cat turd (!?!), some unidentifiable items, some dryer sheets, a few rags. I don't think I have moved the washer and dryer in many years. And let's not forget dust. Even my ears are plugged up now.

Molly was very interested in this project. She was right there with me, nose in everything, very curious. Baby hid on the sofa under a blanket. I considered joining Baby.

For once I could scrub the floor with any product I want, since I will be ripping the floor up. I got a scrub brush and some good cleanser and went at it. Three times. It's not easy to scrub a floor with a brush and sponge while standing without bending the knees, but I wasn't going to get any part of my body on that floor that I didn't have to.

Molly gave me a definite look of "Mom, you aren't supposed to do that on the floor!" when I dumped the bucket of water down the laundry room floor drain. Too bad. The laundry tub is full of well, laundry right now, so I used the drain. Sue me. It's my house.

Now my back aches, my hands hurt, and I can't hear anything. But I did start the Laundry Room Debacle.

I broke my breasts

Every time I have a mammogram I think about mashed potatoes. There is some logic there - I always feel like they are squishing out any possible lumps. The main difference of course is that they refrigerate the machine before they slap your bare skin on it.

Tuesday I had my yearly mammogram. Usually I pass. I study hard, but one time the gyn nurse called me after the exam and said, "There is nothing wrong, but we need to talk for a few minutes." I ended up in the hospital having something removed. I didn't know what it was until they removed it, and it turned out to be a benign cyst. It was scary for me. Some male doctor who is a breast specialist (he had to go to school for that?) performed the procedure. I had never seen him before. They didn't even give me any good drugs.

I thought I had been a bit sore lately, and so I was sure to get my appointment scheduled as soon as my insurance would cover it. I figure it's due to gaining a few pounds over the holidays and not buying a bigger bra. Crush anything enough, and it will get a little sore. I also figure that if they are both sore equally, nothing is wrong.

Today I took the dogs for a quick walk. I wasn't gone more than half an hour. I spent some time outside visiting with the neighbor who has retired from her job as Vice President in a bank to babysit her grandchild. She has good priorities. I then walked the dogs maybe half a mile, long enough to have Zeke the standard poodle come out of no where and scare the crap out of us as usual. Zeke is adorable. He makes my heart race, after all.

While I was gone, the gyn nurse left me a message on my answering machine.

"Nothing is wrong, but we need to talk for a few minutes."

By the time I got home, she was gone for the day.

Dirty clothes

I went back to Lowe's at a later time in the day and found Mr Albania was not there. There was another man (do women ever sell appliances? The only one I have seen owned the Maytag store I went to) who actually knew what he was talking about.

He offered to help. I asked him to show me a nice washer and dryer, and that I would then tell him which one I wanted. He smiled, and took the challenge. He showed me a nice Whirlpool, and a Frigidaire. I listened politely and then showed him the one I wanted. His whole face lit up. He said he has the same washer at home and has ordered the dryer. I bought the Fisher Paykel set that I had already decided to get and it will be delivered and hooked up on Wednesday next week. I could hook it up myself, but with what those two appliances cost another $20 to do the gas line isn't going to break me, and I am not feeling much in the mood to be playing with pipe dope while sitting behind a gas dryer with dogs licking my face.

The stove I am still wavering on. I would need a 220 line, and I am not feeling the love to put one of those in myself after dragging a top-and-bottom stove away from the wall and out of the house. I really do prefer to cook with gas, and since I will probably move....I just can't make up my mind. Cooking with electric is so - non-eventful. The most exciting thing to do is set something plastic on a burner you thought was cool. No flames, no gas leaks. Boring. I need excitement. Cooking should be fun.

I also re-wandered to the flooring department and Nice Young Man must have gone home with Mr Albania. Instead I get Mr Six Pack. Not his abs, but in his belly. He definitely had been drinking before work. For years.

Last night I stopped in Home Depot to discuss flooring. There were two guys there who had nothing to do except tell me that I do not want to install boring linoleum. I want to put in ceramic tiles by myself. We talked about expense. First they told me that the cost would be about the same. Then I asked them to walk me through the prices and work involved. I could put in a cheap linoleum floor for about $150, but it looked pretty cheap, I thought. I could put in a good linoleum floor for about $450. Peel and stick. Or, I could buy three layers of stuff, get a wet saw, and spend a week or so doing the nice ceramic tiles. That would cost at least $1000, if I do it myself. Really good tiles would be a lot more. They said I wouldn't have to worry about staying off it for any period of time, and no risk with the dogs.

Mr Six Pack said he has dogs too, and that I would pretty much have to build a platform to keep the dogs off for most of a week, not really allowing for the fact that I couldn't spend 8 hours a day on the job. He encouraged me to do the linoleum tiles, saying he has used some in his home and they look nice, are easy enough to do, and can be replaced easily enough if I sell the house to someone who doesn't like what I put down. No issue with the dogs on the linoleum, plus it can accommodate the laundry room floor that dips down to a drain.

What's with the employees at Lowe's telling me they already have the products in their own homes? I hope I never need to buy a toilet there, because I think I would get TMI from the sales person.

To add to my confusion, on the way to Lowe's (come on people, it's not really even 5 miles from here, how did I not see this before?) I passed a new condo complex going in, with the sign "luxury condominiums" out front. I stopped back at 4:55 pm, and they closed at 5 pm. The saleslady gave me a few minutes to peek around. The nice thing in that complex is that they actually have a third bedroom, or a study. No upstairs to deal with, no lofts. However, the kitchen in the other condos is absolutely to die for, and this one isn't. It's nice, but no where near as impressive. The bedroom is set up nicer and is bigger. However, no appliances besides the dishwasher are included. No heated bathroom floors, no trash compactor. There was a lady in there who had already purchased a condo in the new place, and she was familiar with the other ones I was looking into. We discussed the merits of each.

So if I get Condo 1, then I wouldn't need to consider taking any appliances with me, because the condo furnishes all. If I got Condo 2, I need everything new myself. Even the garage door opener is included in 1, and not in 2. Either way, I plan to keep my new washer and dryer with me.

Condo 1 and 2 are both set up for electric stoves. If I buy a very nice new stove and then move, I would want to take it with me. I could buy something less expensive for this house, if necessary. I am so confused.

Also, Condo 1 people are not really happy about the dogs, and Condo 2 doesn't come with a patio or deck, so I could pretty much design my own and add it. As long as it's tasteful, I think I would be able to get one in that has a fence adequate to hold the dogs. I am trying to figure out if I could swing a hot tub out there too.

Will someone come here, sell my house, pick a condo, and when I get back home from a cruise, just pick me up from the airport, hand me the keys, and tell me the address where all my things have been moved to? I am not scheduled for a cruise, but I could be. Any time!

Let's look at appliances

Let me first add a side note that due to my lifelong battle with insomnia, I was forced years ago to give up caffeine. I dropped my diet Coke and switched to caffeine free sodas. I had headaches for two months, but my sleep pattern did not vary at all. I avoided caffeine after that anyway, unless I am in a restaurant and the only diet they have has caffeine. Honestly, I never really noticed much of a difference, until recently.

Today a former co-worker and I had lunch, like we do just about every week. We ended up at Fuddrucker's, which is a favorite of mine that I don't get to go to very often. Their soda glasses are about the same size as my toilet. I had a full one of diet Coke, and then realized it had caffeine. After that, I went to Lowe's to look at appliances. I had a little bit of trouble concentrating, not that it mattered any.

I started with the stoves. I was advised by the man who always knows the answers to my questions that if I want a glass topped electric stove to get one with adjustable burners. I never heard of such a thing before, but then I hadn't looked at another stove since I bought mine in 1985. I do not browse appliances or furniture unless I have to.

The salesman in the department didn't seem to know his head from a microwave. Honestly. I got the impression he was perhaps not in his regular department, although he never said so. At least I don't think he did. I belive he was from Albania, and spoke English very, very fast. It was like shopping in a 7-11 store. I couldn't understand him, and I used to work with the refugee program with the state. I had to personally interview every refugee that came into Michigan during those years. The only one they didn't give me was Sergei Federov. They told me he had a job offer so I didn't need to interview him. I didn't think that was fair. Anyway, the appliance sales guy didn't know anything. I asked him if there was a light on the stoves, and he had to get the manuals out. Mostly I asked questions, then found the answers myself while he stood there, trying to look important and helpful. He gets points for trying.

I told him I also needed a front-loading washing machine and was interested in checking out the Fisher Paykel brand. He said oh yez, the berry bess, made in Swisselan. I said, oh, I thought it was made in New Zealand. He said yez, Nuseelan. He took me over and showed them to me. I said this is a top loader. He looked at it again, and said it was a front loader. OK, it's hard to be confused about that.

I opened the top, said see, it's a top loader, and look, there is an agitator in there, which is what I wanted to avoid. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I took him over to the Maytags, opened up a front loader, and explained it to him. Oh! Well. The Fissie Pakkel is niz. Top of the line. Or maybe he said bet on the lime. I didn't even bother with the microwaves.

Instead, I wandered over to flooring. I really do want to put in a new floor myself, but I need instructions and a lot of information. A nice young man offered to give me both, but said he had to finish a phone call first. Sure, I said, I will just look at the stock. I looked at the same aisle for 15 minutes. Then he came running over to some laminate next to me, dragging along Mr Appliance. They were arguing over a price. Nice Young Man said he would be with me in a minute, that he was still dealing with the Phone Call From Heck. Yes, he said heck.

So I paced the floor another 20 minutes. I wandered off far enough to see The Phone Call. There were four people dealing with The Phone Call, while I paced the floor for more than half an hour. I decided they didn't need my business today and left quietly, right in front of them. Had I been thinking, I would have thought about how I had seen Nice Young Man answer the phone several times. I should have taken out my cell phone and called, but I didn't think of it until later.

I still hate shopping for appliances. I still want to do the flooring myself. I also really, really want that window replaced in my kitchen. I bet I could learn to do it. I bet Child and I could replace that window. Ideally I would knock out part of the wall and the brick and put in a sliding glass door there, but maybe that would be beyond my abilities.

I can swing a sledge hammer. I know I can. Just give me another diet Coke and stand back.

Jobs

I don't have a job, so nothing is expected of me, right? If I want to sit around eating chocolate and reading books, I can do that.

My washing machine does have a job, however, and it is expected to do certain things, such as execute a spin cycle. Draining is not adequate. Spinning is needed as part of the cycle. While I believe in keeping employees as long as they are viable, this machine from 1992 must go. It seems really young, but you just never know when laziness will set in.

The dryer will go by default. It really is not it's fault, but since it's from 1983 I figure it won't last long anyway. The timer is bad, and sometimes it will run for hours if I don't manually advance the timer. Child almost started a fire here that way. I just happened to come home earlier than expected, and it had been running a very long time. The smell was close to fire alert time. That reminds me, I need to put up my smoke alarms. They aren't much good in the package.

The stove decided at Christmas it didn't want to bake cookies. I don't understand that, because we have baked cookies together since 1985. That was a gross neglect of duty. I installed the gas stove myself (the gas dryer, too). It's a top and bottom kind, with the microwave on top. That means a new microwave is in order, also, by default. I can't feel too guilty about replacing appliances that are 21 years old. It did attempt to bake some dinner rolls last night, but it was half-hearted. And I thought I was lazy.

I intend to get a 220 line and change my ways. I want a glass-topped electric stove this time. I am a bit leery, since I have been cooking with gas since 1971. My mom had electric, and I did find I prefer gas. But there are no glass topped, easy cleaning gas stoves that I am aware of. Convenience is more important to me at this stage of my life. I don't cook big meals for a large family on a daily basis. I want an easy to clean stove. I need to decide if I want the microwave up that high again or on the counter top. I am short, so a high microwave can be a problem for me if I have a container full of liquid. Boiling liquids can burn when they spill.

While I am out, I might as well check out new flooring, too. I really want to do the flooring myself, but who knows. I really have never done it, and hearing how long Remo has been at his makes me nervous. I have never replaced moldings, so I would have to learn that too.

Hey, I didn't know how to tie my shoes until someone taught me, either. If I stop learning, I might as well roll over and give up.

Read my sign

The Child was laughing at me when we spent all those evenings together last week. Three of them! She finally found out what I am talking about when I say that I have signs on me.

One of them is on my car. It says, "Cut in front of me. Right now." She was amazed to see a car cut across three lanes, almost hit me, and then turn right. There was no one behind me for half a mile. She yelled at me for not hitting my horn. I said why bother? It happens all day long. Usually they are on the phone, have a coffee cup in their hands, are doing their hair, and checking their mascara at the same time they are aiming for me.

Did I forget this sign? My car also has one that says, "Aim for me." I assume all cars intend to hit me. From behind, broadside, or out of the blue. (Perhaps one day a car will fall out of the sky and land on me.) So far, they have all missed. I am pretty alert. Please put the phone down, stop yelling at your kids, eat later on, you don't need that extra order of fries, take the earphone out of your other ear, take of your sunglasses, it's dark out, and do your makeup at home. Shave at home too, OK? I don't want to see that. Get dressed on some other road. I don't want to see that, either. And if you are a guy and I do want to see it - I might accidentally aim at someone else.

I am not really sure if it's, "Aim for me" or if it's, "I am invisible and you can also occupy this space at the same time I do."

When I am shopping, I am still short. People will charge at full speed out of stores and bash into me as I walk by. I don't get that. If you are merging into traffic, shouldn't you look first? If you are really, really tall, you should be used to looking down a bit for us littler people. I guess this sign just reads, "Smash into me." Hey, I am a little harder to push than you expected, aren't I? Practice. I have had a lot of practice. Sorry you bounced off, but I don't want to fall down. It's too messy.

A side note here. I was walking in the mall this morning as usual for a Sunday, and my friend who walks with me wasn't there yet. I passed a man, maybe 5'6" tall, who was probably younger than I am. He was testosteronely challenged by the fact that I passed him. He said, "For as short as you are, I should be able to outwalk you." I bit my tongue, hard, then smiled at him and said, "I walk a lot." I figured that was better than what I was thinking. No sense in both of us being rude.

Children read signs on me, too. One of those says, "Wipe your hands on my clothes." No explanation needed on that one. "I will find you help." This isn't just for children. There is something about me that makes people think, This lady knows what time the mall opens, where streets are, where stores are, where my mom went, what size I wear, what color looks good on me, and what classes I should take next term. Plus, this lady will make my boyfriend stop beating on me. Yeah, that was fun. I had to do that in front of my child on our way into a restaurant once. Was I supposed to just let him do it to her, even if I never saw either of them before?

Luckily I managed to drop the sign that dogs read called, "Pee on my legs." Instead, they read the one that says, "No, of course I don't mind if you wipe your muddy feet and slobber on me. Go for it!"

Should I even get into what men read on me?

How I spent my evenings

This has been One of Those Weeks. Monday night Child and I tried again, I think it was the fifth time, to return or exchange the blouse she gave me for my birthday. She again looked at me and said, "Do you have the receipt?" Uhm, no. I didn't buy it.

So we went out to dinner for her birthday, as planned. Well, we had planned lunch, and lunch to me pretty much ends around 3 pm. We went about 5 pm. That is lunch to Child. She works a late shift. She wanted prime rib. We went to a nice place and she ordered hers medium rare. I ordered mine rare. Generally I have noticed that people who order it medium rare, medium, medium well - they are more flexible. Anyone who orders it rare or well done mean it. I want mine barely warmed up. Someone who wants it well done does not want to see any pink at all. I don't want to see any brown.

Child's came perfectly medium rare. I wasn't paying too much attention to mine as we were chatting and catching up on stuff. When I cut into my meat, however, I realized something was Wrong. Yeah, it was brown. Inside and out. The texture was wrong, cooked way too much. The waitress came back and I reminded her that I had ordered it rare, and that my meat was definitely medium, if not medium well. She agreed. (SO - why did she give it to me, was my thought?)

The manager came out and gave me the rare steak speech, which I have heard before. Yeah, he prefers his that way too, but gee, they didn't have any left. I politely asked why I wasn't given that information when I ordered it. He offered me another cut. Then he said he would 'try' to get me a rare piece. What, he was going to another restaurant? I wanted my potato back. I was hungry, very hungry, and had spent a couple of minutes getting my baked potato just the way I wanted it. I just smiled politely and said, "Thank you." I didn't want anyone to pee on my dinner.

Sigh. I not only got another prime rib, but a new potato. I had to start all over. The meat was medium rare, but I ate it. I didn't want to make an issue during Child's birthday lunch. I just wanted what I had ordered, but it was pretty good anyway. We had fun, talked about silly things and made our plans for the rest of the evening. We did some shopping around in the area and bemoanedthe fact that again, we didn't have time for me to show her the condo I am considering having built.

It doesn't end yet. Wednesday night we got together again when she called me about 5 pm and said, "Where is the nearest hospital to where I am and I want you to meet me there." "OK, where are you?" We ascertained the nearest hospital, I offered to go get her, and we met at emergency.

Child would not want me to write about her personal medical issues, but she has a recurring Thing that she has never had tested. The Thing was bothering her more than normal and she feared passing out. This is the Child who had "a stomach ache" once at work, worked her whole waitress shift, went to emergency to get her stomach pumped (amazing that she even considered that), and had her appendix out within a few hours. Stomach ache, indeed. Worked on her feet for 8 hours with a hot appendix without concern.

Anyway, we met at emergency and I forgot to take any toys with me. Yes, Child just turned 26. You think I spoil my dogs? They are just like the Child. She needs to be entertained all the time. She decided she felt better and wanted to go home. She was going to withhold information from the doctor. She didn't want any IVs. She didn't want any shots. She wanted to go home. She hadn't eaten all day, and she is hypoglycemic (not why she felt dizzy). She got crabby. I hadn't eaten dinner, either. I was getting an urge to leave. A friend of hers was called, and he came too. Child was told she was getting an IV, a blood test, and a breathing treatment. I considered going home and hoping the hospital had good damage coverage.

She was told by the doctor to quit smoking or she will have chronic bronchitis and also asthma in the winters. She told me it's "not a good time to quit." Of course it isn't. Who has heard a smoker say, "gee, this is a good time for me to quit." She reminds me that I smoked 20 years ago. But I quit, didn't I? I know it's not easy. I also know that if you say it's not a good time now, that it never will be, until you get that lung cancer diagnosis. Then it's really still not a good time, because it's too late.

After 5 hours, we left. Child and friend went to dinner. I went home hungry. Child has been referred to a specialist, and she probably won't go. She can't plan past dark, and having something checked out when it isn't bothering her seems a waste of time to her. Yes, I will remind her more than once.

The next day she called me and wanted to take care of the blouse and see the condo. See, she is growing up. She felt fine, of course. We went to the condo and she loves it. She wants me to upgrade everything and completely finish the full basement and give it to her. She wants the basement all to herself for free. Well, her and her cat that I am allergic to. While I realize that I may end up with her living with me again at any time, I am hardly going to encourage this arrangement. So now I have made my decision regarding getting the finished basement upgrade. I knew I didn't need it. I really don't. It comes with a family room area with a projection TV, a complete bar with a dishwasher and small refrigerator, a very large bedroom, and a full bathroom. This would all be on a floor I would not go to except maybe every three months or so to get something I had placed in the storage area. I don't need that.

Then we took care of the blouse. She still hadn't found the receipt, but the blouse was not on sale, so I figured we were good. We were good, since she bought it at Nordstrom and the tag serves as a gift receipt. I found a pretty blouse in the petite department and got that. We wandered around the mall and Child got her duvet cover from Restoration Hardware that she has been wanting. It's very pretty, but mostly white. I didn't recommend that color for her, OK? But it is washable.

Last night I spent dealing with the eating, peeing, pooping, wobbly beagle, Molly, who didn't have a seizure yesterday for her shot. She went to the servant bell every 90 seconds or so to demand food all night long. The servant bell is a bell I put on the door to the dog run because both beagles will just stand at the door and wait for it to magically open for them. They learned immediately to bang on the bell, and the servant bell was born. If they want anything, they bang on the bell. I took the bell away last night. I couldn't take it any more. The servant was tired of working overtime. I was up until about 1 am.

Molly got me up at 3 am to pee last night. She got me up at 7 am to eat. Baby got me up at 8 am to pee. I kept going back to bed. I was tired, I was so tired. All I want is one night of sleep without having to get up due to screaming cats, peeing dogs, puking animals or hungry beasts. How did I do this when I worked? Child trained me for years. I am good at it.

No, I don't have the tiny blind, deaf poodle after all. I felt guilty saying I would do it if she can't get someone else, but Molly and little Rosie don't get along very well. Rosie is afraid of Molly and Molly was at risk last night. Rosie's mommy found someone and I told her to leave my number available in case of issues. So I could still get Rosie, but I don't think so. It's not that I mind - I know what it's like not to be able to find someone to watch pets. But Rosie is special needs and even more spoiled than my girls, and I am afraid of sleeping with her on my bed. She is incontinent, for one thing, but I would end up sleeping on the couch with her in my lap, and that means no sleep at all. I can do that for one night, but three might be hard. But I would do it if needed. I wouldn't want to terrify a 3 lb fluff that can't see or hear.

But Wiz the screaming cat would.

My dog is on drugs

Molly was due for her shot for her Addison's disease on Tuesday. I didn't think she needed it yet, so I waited a few days. The seizures she has had for every shot and vet visit since she became ill early in October makes me think more than twice before I take her to the vet any more.

After her sixth seizure last month, the vet finally decided to prescribe Valium for Molly to take before her shot this month. I had to hand over my driver's license to be copied before I was handed a bottle of Valium. It's a controlled substance. I brought home Molly and her drugs after her last seizure and had hopes for this month's visit.

I had to double her prednisone today so that left me with an eating, peeing, pooping machine. Then I needed to give her the Valium 2 hours before the appointment. I went to get the Valium and then take her for a little walk. No Valium.

I looked every place that I put medications. I looked places where I don't keep medications. I finally decided that I put it some place very "safe." It had to be some place even safe from me. I had to call the vet and tell them I lost a controlled substance and I need more.

Expecting a bad response, I called and was surprised to find that they believed me and would give me more if I wanted to pick it up. I said yes. I got ready to leave the house and thought about it some more, trying to trace back my process of bringing the medication home. I finally checked the jacket pockets of the "vet jacket" I wear. I have an old jacket I mostly wear only to the vet. Sure enough, I found the drugs. I gave Molly her dose after calling the vet again and took the beagles for a walk.

Amazingly, the walk was uneventful. They smelled stuff, and I watched Molly for unsteady gait. She didn't get stoned, but her nose went into overdrive. I didn't think it was possible. A beagle nose is very impressive. Try hiding one peanut any place in the house from a beagle. You can't do it. We came home, and Molly tried to tear up my leather sofa looking for, I assume, a lost piece of popcorn. Then she tried to get down to the floor where my family room is, or the floor below that where the basement is, where the dogs aren't allowed. She drove me nuts with her nose. She became unsteady and wobbly.

I finally put her leash back on (I had left her collar on, since she fights me to put it on anyway), filled my pocket with dog treats, threw a milk bone at Baby to get her away from the door, and ushered Molly into the garage, then the car. Molly hates the car. I had to throw a treat on the seat to get her to jump in. I fed her treats for 2.5 miles. It's amazing how many treats a hungry dog will eat in 2.5 miles. (I had fed them dinner before leaving.) I had the radio on, and I talked loudly to her all the way there. She seems to like noise when she is stressed.

We got to the vet's office, and I parked in the lot next door. It was solid mud. We have had somewhat warmer weather than usual, in the 40s the last two days, and the entire lot was mud. My car is a light cream color cloth inside. I got her out of the car, and thought about my seats. Lost cause.

I called the vet's office and told them we were outside. Molly and I walked on the sidewalk, on the grass, and around the building. She smelled stuff and demanded treats. I talked to her, and kept her calm. The vet and a tech came outside and they gave her the shot. No seizure. Not a peep out of her. They handed me the bill, which I had taken care of over the phone when I called about the Valium. I rushed Molly back to the car (out of treats by then), and talked to her with the radio on. She likes Eminem's new song. Me too.

We got in the house and Baby was more than delighted to see us. Molly has been wobbly and demanding food, but who cares. She didn't have a seizure. We made it! We finally did it! Molly will be fine after all. I don't care if keeping her seizure-free means I have to get her shot while I stand on my head in the parking lot at the vet's office.

Now what do I do with this eating, peeing, wobbly, pooping machine for the rest of the evening? I was supposed to go out. I guess I will read a book instead. I don't want her falling down the stairs. I can also clean the mud off both front seats. She really got them good.

What was downstairs? She smelled some cat puke that was old and dried up that was down the stairs, down a hall, in a spare bedroom, in the closet. She tried to eat it. I was faster and got her out of there. Ewww.

Full circles

Life is full of circles, isn't it? Things can just come back around and bite you in the butt when you aren't looking.

When I was a teenager, my periods were always late. I had so little body fat that going 100 days between was not unusual. This sounds good, doesn't it? But I still had to keep watch from day 28 on. Every day. Eventually at 17 I went on the Pill to regulate them, and it worked, but the pain was barely worth it. My body did not want to risk reproduction at a time when it could barely support me, I guess.

Yes, this story is going some place besides my insides, so please bear with me. At 45 I had some medical issues and had a complete hysterectomy a few months after my mom died. It was a miracle!

I no longer had to count out 28 days and mark my calendars. I handed over all the required supplies to my daughter and tried not to worry about her schedule. It was easy to tell, anyway, due to the way she turned into an alien every four weeks or so.

Being able to leave behind that monthly count was very freeing. Once the child graduated school, I was even able to start thinking of January as the beginning of a year, rather than September. I could actually think of time like other people do.

When Molly got sick in early October, she was one sick beagle. Once she was diagnosed with Addison's disease, we have found that other than the seizures she has when she has to go to the vet to get her shots, her disease is pretty much controllable most of the time. I give her a prednisone tablet with breakfast every day, and drag her to the vet's once every 28 days for a shot.

I find myself, once again, keeping track of days in 4 week cycles. The difference is this time, if I forget, Molly dies. Maybe all those years of practice were for a good reason. Molly is due next week.

*I know I have some new names showing up in my comments and I just want to say that I welcome everyone who is new, and once I get my computer back from the shop I can do some surfing and check out your journals, too. Also my apologies to anyone whom I usually read and make comments to who hasn't heard from me in a while. The alerts dropped some journals, and I will be making a check on that too, when I get my computer back. I am hoping to have it soon, because this dial up stuff on an older laptop (LMAO, it's from 2001!) is so slow and trying my patience.

Burrs under my saddle

I have been tagged to write down things that annoy me. How many things? Was it five? I am supposed to narrow this list down to FIVE? Can I start with the fact that I don't like to be told what to do?

1. People who eat with their mouths open. Corollary: wide open yawns in public without covering the mouth with a hand. I do not want to hear people eat or see what is inside their mouths. They can save that view for their dentist.

2. Drivers who have to get there first. Corollary: drivers who see there is one car on the road besides them, and they have to cut in front of that car. They can cut in behind, but have to risk killing everyone for a two-mile radius to get there first. They must have self-esteem issues or small equipment.

3. Pets left to run loose because their owners either don't care or believe their dogs won't go off their property. Come on, I get chased when I walk my dogs at least once a week by another dog. Some threaten us, some are friendly. I have scooped up smaller dogs and returned them home, I have had to kick dogs (which I really, really hate to do) who try to bite me or my dogs. Corollary: people who get mad at me because I am walking my dogs on leashes on the sidewalk and their dog charges us. It's my fault their dog was loose?

4. Morning people. OK, they only bother me if they are in bed with me, and they only bother me from the time they wake up until I want to wake up. I have enough trouble sleeping. Anything will wake me up, but I go to bed late. Give me a break. Corollary: neighbors who work late hours and come home and argue in their driveways. Loudly. Thanks for sharing your personal business in detail at 3 am.

5. People who are chronically late. Do they really think their time is more valuable? Corollary: people who make excuses once they show up, but continue to be late and not ever call to say they are running behind. I could have started and finished a few chores too, but I agreed to be some place, so I go.

6. Woodpeckers. The top floor of my house is wood. They get up early. I don't. My bedroom is sided on 3 sides with wood. I designed it, so it's my own fault.

 

 

 

The adipose-challenged lady sang

I did it. I really did do it. I had my hair cut and styled, and it is now about an inch below my chin. I had 4 inches cut off in November and 4 more inches today. It looks so dark to me - the ends were several shades lighter than the crown. The stylist was very good and dealt with my fears and indecision. I am probably the only customer she ever had who showed up with pictures of what she DIDN'T want. I showed one, and said if I went home looking like that again I would cry all the way home.

My intention was to show her what I didn't want, make a few suggestions, and let her pick the style from there. I was very pleased with her work. Due to my hair being heavy and thick, it tends to fall fast after being fluffed up. I wanted Child to see my new style, so I immediately went to where she works to show her. It was about a half hour drive, so it fell down, but she got the concept and was delighted also. zlong bangs. It is basically a modernized classic cut, about an inch below my chin. Scary, but a definite improvement, assuming I can style it myself.

I would have taken a side trip for a second peek at the condo complex I am interested in, but I missed the turn and decided to go another day. Instead, I snagged the Birkenstock clogs in the car, took off my Mephisto lace up low boots, and walked. First, of course, I stopped in the restaurant where Child works, had some soup, and waited for the friend I called to show up and walk with me. Child pushed a beer on me. Maybe that wasn't a good idea, since I am a cheap drunk (Remo and Anne can verify that). After that I had two glasses of diet Pepsi, so I had alcohol and caffeine. Yikes!

Alcohol, diet Pepsi, and soup. We walked from ladies' room to ladies' room for a while, but managed to get in some mileage anyway. I made a stop or two to quickly search for a petite sized dark red blouse, which I have been trying to find for almost 6 months now. As usual, no joy, but I don't mind. It's really not the best color for my red hair anyway.

The roads were purported to be bad, but I didn't see anything other than ice bouncing off the hood to my car. The roads themselves were fine. I didn't spill my soup on Christine. Child told me she will come and get some more of her stuff from my house next week. I walked 5 miles, same as yesterday, and felt fine. Nothing hurt or complained. I didn't even dribble anything on my shirt.

Wiz the cat woke up yesterday, started eating, and has been her usual wise-bum annoying, screaming self. A trip to the vet no longer is planned for her. Molly is on a diet, but is taking it like a woman. Baby is consoling herself with her teddy bear, which is the funniest thing in the world to see.

She has to have a certain sized teddy bear. They must have fairly long fur. She ignores the short-haired ones. She flips them over on their stomachs, head forward. She bites the back of the neck on the right side, and then slides her front feet under the upper legs (arms?) of the teddy and kneads her toes like a cat. Her eyes close within 10 seconds and she looks like the happiest dog in the world. Then she falls asleep. She has been doing this since she was a little pup.

In other words, nothing went wrong today.

It didn't end yet

When you are on a roll, you are on a roll, right? It didn't end yet. Unfortunately my memory will probably skip over the best parts, but I shall try to catch up on further luck.

Wednesday was the day I met Cindy for lunch and my tights went south. Thursday I met a former co-worker, and again I had to drive about 15 miles. I took the freeway because I was running almost late. I like to be early, especially if I am meeting someone who is taking time from her work day to meet me.

About half way there I had this sudden urge to exit at a different place. As it was I was reminding myself that the exit was in two parts, a north and a south, and to be sure to take the first one or I would end up in my old office and deal with mall traffic. I actually was getting stressed, so I got off early, re-working the route in my mind. The drive turned out uneventful,  but when my brain says "change the route" I do it. I didn't once, and I have learned since to listen. It's not like it said, "go by way of Toledo." I don't hear voices, I just get an urge to change the route. It's weird, but it's part of who I am, I suppose.

So I was about 15 minutes early. I read over the menu, got comfortable as I could. The restaurant might as well have been outdoors, because it was freezing in there. My former co-worker and I decided to go to Costco after lunch. She had a few minutes and I had a few items I needed to get. Ladies do not like to run low on toilet paper, after all. We ran to our cars and hurried into them, and I whacked my head on the top of the car getting in. Ouch. I hoped it wouldn't bruise, since I don't wear bangs any more.

Costco is only maybe a mile from the restaurant, but it was raining. It was the kind of icky, cold, persistent, nasty rain that can only fall on a damp, dank winter day in the north. It was a bit foggy. We drove through the parking lot in our respective vehicles. It seemed the entire county suddenly needed something from Costco. I snagged a good spot, friend found a decent one in another section. One thing I do have good luck on is parking spots. Someone will be backing out just as I get near the door.

Luckily when deciding on which item to pull out of my overfull jacket/coat closet, I thought "rain" and grabbed my raincoat with a hood. We got in the store, shook off like dogs, and proceeded to grab a cart.

Ever notice how carts have evolved in stores? You know those smaller ones that pharmacies have? That used to be the only size available any place. That is what people used to use to buy groceries once a week for a family of 6. Everything fit fine, because people ate less when I was younger. The Costco carts are closer to the size of the cars I grew up with. The back seats of those cars were big enough to start a family in. Cars are like that again, but in between cars were much smaller. But I digress, as is normal for me.

My friend wasn't able to stay long. She completed her purchases quickly and I stayed for my shopping. I do not go to Costco often. It's too easy to buy things that make sense while you are there but no sense once you get home. I also have to walk every aisle at least once. It's exercise, too. If I have the time I can walk 2-3 miles there.

I started noticing that anyone alone, besides me, was on the phone. I could hear the conversations much better than I wanted to. Why do people talk so loudly these days? Do they really think I care to hear about their child's disease they had on their private area three months ago? Or what their stupid boyfriend did last month? Hello, you are in a store, supposedly shopping. Can't you bear to be alone for 20 minutes?

One purchase I needed was meat. I only go every few months for meat, and try to get enough to last.  I remembered that child had asked me to get her a large pack of chicken breasts next time I went, so I almost called her to see if she still wanted them, and decided I could manage without using my phone in the store, even if it would be a quick call. If she wanted some of mine, fine. While picking up a package of chicken, I realized one package in the pile had leaked. I spent the rest of my shopping time with dead chicken blood on my hands. Yuck.

I am amazed and appalled by some of the products at Costco. So much of it seems to be nothing but filler foods to make people gain weight. I usually end up being so grossed out that I buy very little food. I must not be in one of their target market groups. But I did need to get dog food. I found a 55 lb bag.

OK, I admit it. Partly I wanted it just to see if I could do it or not. I ended up on my hands and knees on the floor, trying to get that 55 lb bag of kibble  onto the bottom rack of the cart. Remember, the cart has wheels. I hope no one used their camera phone, but I managed. If the bag didn't sag in the middle, it would be easier to move around. I also grabbed a 15 lb box of milk bones. I ended up grabbing a lot of things, but not really anything I didn't need. My cart was FULL. Maybe I should go a little more often.

I got in line to leave. While I have good parking luck, I can always pick the worst lines. I didn't have anything frozen, so it was just a matter of being patient. As usual when I wait in a line, mother nature started screaming at me. My friend and I had two glasses of diet Coke each at lunch, and we did not go before we left. I waited in line, and waited...and waited....and surprise! Just as I was next, they opened a new lane and I got to be first. Next, first, not much different.

It was still raining, only harder. The temperature had dropped, but it still wasn't freezing. One nice thing about my Highlander is the back door opens upwards, so I can stand under it while I load it up. Getting that bag of dog food out was awkward, since I wasn't going to kneel down on the wet parking lot. I managed. I also had two packs of 30 rolls of toilet paper. They were tossed into the back seat. The drive home was surprisingly uneventful, other than a cab driver who sat and sat, then just had to suddenly dart out into traffic much too fast right in front of me, then sort of fishtailed until he got going. I noted the name of the cab company, which was written along the dented in, rusted side of the vehicle. I wanted to remember who not to call if I need a ride some time.

Coming home is always entertaining. I never know what I will walk into. Molly is creative, Baby has her issues, Wiz has a sensitive stomach. In fact, Wiz decided to return the stretchy metallic ribbon she ate the other day. On my computer, and also on the catalog that has the information I need to sign up for yoga again.

The dogs hadn't done anything unusual, although Baby had pooped and chewed on the throw rug on top of the plastic sheet on top of the carpet right outside my master bath, as usual. They went out and when they came in, I had their full attention.

Mom went hunting. Mom is a very impressive hunter.

I decided that since I had to handle raw meat and divide it into small portions to freeze, I would not clean up the poop until I was done. I had many chicken breasts and rib eye steaks to put in baggies. I also had a dozen blueberry muffins to put in baggies. I freeze them individually, then take one out the night before if I want one for breakfast. This process took a while. The dogs never left my side. They barely breathed. They sat and watched.

Meanwhile, the phone rang, and child said she wanted to stop by and pick up some of her stuff. I knew she was alone, because she called first, so I just continued what I was doing. She came in, and we got a couple boxes to her car. She wanted yet another of my make up bags (what does she do with them?), so we went upstairs to the master bath to see what I have left.

Exactly. The poop was still there.

This morning, I turned on the garbage disposal (I have ADD on topics, OK?) and there was a stone in it. Molly must have knocked one in when she dumped that pot the other day. I can't remember that there were any stones in there, or that any dirt was near the sink, but I can't imagine any other way it would get there. The only other option is that Wiz, the old cat, is starting to drop things in the sink. I sure hope not. I fished it out.

I just got up to let Molly out and found a cat turd on the floor with a handle on it. It seems that at least one piece of elastic metallic string went through the cat. This might explain why she hasn't eaten for 24 hours. I think Wiz needs to see the vet. I weighed her this morning, and she has actually gained a little, but unless she passes more stuff today, she is going to have to Go See The Vet.

Wiz does not like to go, although she does charm most vets. I am so scared that if I take her, and bring her home, the smell on us from the vet's office will cause Molly to have a seizure. Molly is also due for her shots this month, the normal maintenance ones, which can be fatal to Addison's dogs. We will need to titer for the levels first.

Tomorrow I get my hair cut. It's way, way long now, even though I had 4 inches cut off recently. I am going for a Big Girl haircut finally. I am terrified. Most of my life, I have worn my hair just long and straight. I am never happy with "real" haircuts. The woman's name I got from the girl in the store when I was with Cindy? The one who cuts hair? She isn't taking any new customers for at least 3 months because her daughter recently had major surgery.

My bad luck is entertaining. I will be keeping that lady's daughter in my thoughts as I remember how lucky my life really is.

 

Addendum

I was so tired last night that I forgot part of the joy of my day. I also miscalculated on the number of the rolls. These rolls were about the size of a Subway sandwich. They didn't eat six, they ate eight. They haven't moved much since, but they got me up twice during the night. I refused to get up more times. I really was tired. Besides, I had been dealing with dog yeast farts all night.

Wiz was also unusually vocal last night. It seems that the Christmas cards I had bought for next year had those stretchy-string-metallic ties on them. Wiz has a thing for hair bands, but her first love is those metallic stretch ties. She was up all night chewing on them and screaming for me to play fetch. I thought she was just calling as usual so I did my best to ignore her. She was in Wiz heaven all night. I took them away when I got up.

Twice during the evening Molly went to the servant bell and tried to get me to give her treats, but I waved the wrapper from the rolls at her and she dropped her head and huffed off. Hm, huffed. She probably wanted to huff the wrapper.

What I had noticed when I was cleaning up the plant dirt with the inadequately charged Dust Buster was The Smell. There I was, bent over, holding onto four books, my purse, and the messenger bag, trying to clean up the floor so I could enter the kitchen. Who knew plant dirt could spread so far?

Baby was howling, which meant she didn't poop in my bedroom. I was running the Dust Buster and telling her I didn't believe her because I could smell it, but it seemed awfully strong for being up the stairs, down the hall, and around the corner by the master bath. Once I cleaned the floor enough so I could walk through, I found The Problem.

True enough, Baby did not poop in my bedroom. Somehow, with wisdom only a dog could understand, she managed to poop on top of the kitchen heater vent. When I came home, the furnace was running.

After I cleaned that up, I decided I had earned a treat and had a scoop of Spumoni ice cream, which is my favorite. I was tired, remember? I sat down and reflected on how much I love my pets.

This morning Molly dragged me out of bed for breakfast - yes, she still wanted breakfast - and I opened the refrigerator to get out the pumpkin which is supposed to help with Baby's Problem and I found the ice cream in the refrigerator. Not the freezer.

So the cat and the dogs all got a spoon of Spumoni slop in their breakfast bowls. All I got was a good laugh.

 

Intimidate this

It's a new year. Everyone (else) is making resolutions and expecting, or at least hoping, for this year to be the best ever, and hoping for things to go well.

Then there is me. Do other people have these things happen to them? A few days ago I was catching up with a friend in chat whom I met on a cruise maybe 8 years ago, maybe a little more. Child and I went every year for almost 10 years, so I get them mixed up. She was a teenager, and the older man (I hesitate to say gentleman) argued with her over her bread plate and she wanted to use mine. She gamely tried to ignore him, but he really got nasty about it. The next day he apologized, having checked with someone, and having found that he had, indeed, taken her plate. He needed to use his other left. I made friends with his (now ex) wife. He was rather crabby for a man on his honeymoon. I think it was his eighth marriage.

She recently had major knee issues. We were catching up on what has been going on in the last two years or so. My cat threw up so I apologized and excused myself for a minute. I returned, we chatted some more, and I had to again excuse myself. This happened four times. My friend is a nurse, and told me that I needed to get my cat to emergency. I said nah, she can puke five times first. She seemed surprised, what with Wiz now being 19 years old. Sure enough, Wiz didn't puke again, got up the next morning (after the usual screaming all night) and ate her breakfast. Demanded it, I should say. Too bad child borrowed my carpet steamer "overnight" about two months ago and hasn't returned it. She has to leave a boatload of her stuff here, but has room to store what is mine and I need to use?

The Screaming Cat continues to ride. She screams whenever she finds herself out of my view. She is just checking in, but she is also going deaf. So when I answer, she doesn't hear me. So she screams louder. This goes on all night. If I get up to see if she has a problem, she looks at me like I do, but she seems fine. I go back to bed, and within five minutes she screams again. She is 19, how much longer can this go on? I guess three years, although she is losing weight. She does it all day too, but that doesn't bother me at all. At night I say bad words.

Around November I started having computer issues. I would suddenly lose power, and if I jiggled the cord it would come back. I was advised to buy a new cord. Power cords are about $60, if you scout around. I scouted, and had the same problem with the new cord. So I was advised that I had a different problem. The power connection, the socket, whatever you want to call the spot where the power cord plugs into the computer was broken.

Gateway has a good thing going. They make a very crappy connection. The cord moves around a little, and then loosens the socket. I think the socket is soldered into the motherboard. Their method of repair? Charge for a whole new motherboard. This runs about $600. I just said no when I heard that.

So I tried to ignore it. Eventually I was getting in some very kinkly positions trying to get the power to connect, then I was unable to get it at all. I paced around having no idea if I was covered under warranty. Repair people intimidate me.

There, I admitted it. Let's be reasonable and call it fear, OK? I knew that the Geek Squad teenager would look at me, see his mother or maybe even (gasp) his grandmother and laugh. Oh boy, here is a live one. She probably uses the computer just to email her children out of state and to look up her medications and maybe some medical conditions. We can walk all over this one, charge her the $600 and laugh all the way to the bank.

So, I took my computer on New Year's Day to the family dinner and handed the computer to my nephew. He and I went into the basement while I watched him treat it like an erector set. I was fascinated. He showed me exactly where the problem was, said it was hard to get to it, and I should first try to get Gateway to cover it. Otherwise, he would look up the cost of the part and he would fix it for me. He looked up the cost of the part. $1.30. I asked if he would let me do it with him over my shoulder giving me the directions. He said sure, no problem.

Today I met a friend for lunch, and she wanted to walk afterwards. We had a high of 40 degrees, and it was wet, rainy, muddy, dark, gray, overcast, and generally damp and ugly out. I bravely put heavy tights under my slacks and went. As soon as we went outside, Cindy whined that it was too cold. I was shocked, but smiled. Still, we must have walked too far. My tights started to slip down.

Ever have that happen? It feels very strange. The tights started to slip down my hips. I started being very glad I didn't wear a skirt. I figured with slacks on, there was only so far they could slide down. We ducked into a store to look at some items on sale after the holiday.

We left the store, and I started laughing with Cindy. By that time, they were down around my thighs. There was nothing I could do, short of reach down into my pants and pull them up. No one could see, so I just dealt with it. Luckily we only walked about a mile.

I got brave and decided to finally go to Best Buy. I put on my coat, my attitude, and went to the library first. They had been closed a few days, so it was immensely crowded. There were at least 25 people in front of me in line. I figured 3 checkout people, 3 minutes a person; I was glad I went before I left. Just as I was next in line, child called. I had to cut her off because I don't talk on the phone while conducting a transaction.

Arms piled with books, I headed out the door. Now, didn't your mother teach you to let people out of a door before you charge in? A gorilla was entering the library and didn't even stick to the right side. I had to move to the side, back up, and let him charge in like he was someone very special. If my arms weren't full, I would have rearranged my space.

Child was upset because a friend was taking her not only on the east side of town, but into a J C Penney's. I asked if she had any garlic or a crucifix, but she didn't. I told her she would probably be fine. Child is a bit of a, shall we say, snob?

I bravely got in the car and drove to Best Buy. I had run out of excuses. I went in the store and got in the Geek line. Oh, no line. No geek, either. I waited at least 5 minutes for the intimidator to show up.

A very young baby-faced boy smiled at me. Kindly smiled at me, like he wanted to help me. My attitude didn't drop, even though I wasn't exuding it. I kept it like a shield. I smiled and acted like I believed he would help me. I explained thatI couldn't find my original receipt, but had my charge statement that showed my purchase. I explained my problems with the computer. The power supply problem, the dead pixels, the eyelash inside the screen, and the CD/DVD drive door that never closed properly. I used the word "lemon" fondly. I love the computer, but honestly, a drunk put it together.

He sent me to the other side of the same counter to get a copy of my receipt from someone else. That took a long time. I took the receipt back to him and he wrote up the papers after I waited for two other people who had walked in. He left off the eyelash on the report, I asked him to add it in. He said he couldn't. I just looked at him. He said he would write it on the paper, which would go with the computer.

He said he had to have my phone number. I asked why. He said they would need to call me when it came in, so I gave it to him. I don't like to give it out in stores. After he finished the paperwork, he told me that the computer would be repaired by Gateway for free under warranty and that it would then be delivered to my house directly by UPS in 3 to 10 weeks. I did not point out the obvious. He lied.

I actually left there almost believing that I will get my computer back without expense to me. Did I mention that he told me that if my warranty had expired it would cost a lot of money to get it repaired? I didn't tell him the cost of the part needed. I figured he knew, since he offered to back up my data for $89. It took me about 90 seconds to back up my data when I had 9% power left the other day.

I came home, tired, actually exhausted from all the burned adrenaline, and opened the door to two excited beagles. It sounded like one was tattling on the other. That is not a good sign. I stopped after a few steps so I wouldn't step into the pile of plant dirt. I grabbed the dust buster off the washing machine and started to vacuum up the dirt so I could get into the house. The dust buster must not have been fully charged, so I had to finish the job with the swiffer electric thing, which was charged adequately.

I got into the kitchen and finally set down all the books and my purse and the messenger bag I had carried the laptop in, and saw a plastic bag on the floor. Molly had knocked over the pot of plant dirt to get to the bag of 6 large sandwich rolls I had bought the other day and didn't eat. They seemed stale this morning, so I had them ready to go out to the garbage. I guess I set them down where she could jump and jump and jump and knock the pot out of the way and get to the rolls, rip open the bag, and eat all six large rolls. I hope they shared them, because both beagles look like sea lions right now. That can't be good with Molly's Addison's disease.

I received a reply via email today from the condo complex I am considering. They will give me a letter authorizing me to move in with two dogs, as long as I sign an agreement to not replace one that dies, so that I never have two again. Right now, this should seem like a really good offer. I did not tell them about Wiz, the Screamer. I am not stupid.

Why can't I just chat with an old friend, meet someone for lunch, go for a walk, go to the library, and stop off to get a computer repaired?

I didn't even get into the dog walk I took this afternoon. A standard poodle named Zeke came out of no where and startled us big time. Another leash scofflaw, but this dog is so cute, just very, uhm, excitable. Molly can't be stressed, but I found she sure can get muddy.

Anyone want to take bets on Gateway sending me a repaired computer with no bill? It's still under warranty, and dead pixels can spread. Eyelashes do not belong inside of screens. The power cord issue - they might fix that, they might not. I am not paying $600 for it, that I know. Then, assuming they do repair it, it will be under a 90 day warranty. The design is flawed. I really don't care about the DVD/CD drawer, as long as it works. Dell never did send me the CD writer I ordered in 2002, which is one reason why I ended up buying the Gateway in 2005.

My nephew might need to order two parts, but I guess I can afford $2.60 if necessary.