To The Keeper Of The Applications....

 Of all the applcations, these are my least favorite. The answers aren't always easy, some needing further explanations,  others just simply not what you want to hear. But I'm nothing if not honest, so here goes.

When I was all of 18 I wandered into a pet store while visiting my parents and there was a box of kittens. Now I had no buisness adopting a cat, having never owned one ever, let alone adopting two. But, it was the 90's, and $50 later, there I was heading back to my one bedroom apartment with absolutely no clue what I had just done. Kittens are A LOT. My boyfriend was less than amused. Six months later when it was all over, I moved them back to my parents house, with all of my belongings, who were also less than amused. When I moved across the country a few short months later, their two carriers accompanied my three suit cases as I started completely over 1200 miles from home.

I got married a year later. One day my husband came home with a dog. She had been dumped in the middle of I95, and was scared out of her mind. We had no plans or a dog, and an apartment is no place for a husky. While she loved the cats, she terrorized them. She ate everything in our place and was unruley to walk. We both had to work two jobs to keep a roof over our heads, let alone theirs, so we made the painful desision to rehome them all. Our husky went to a literal farm. She spent her days hearding horses with two cattle dogs and never had another discipline problem again. She needed much more than we could give her, and clearly we made the right choice. The cats went to a well funded shelter, devastated, I cried the whole time. I secretly went back a week later to get them back but they had already found a home. I voulenteered there weekly for over a year, trying to give back for the home they gave them. It's one of my biggest regrets. I still have their hand engraved name tags and collars. It's been 30 years.

Many years later, divorced, with two children in tow, I had closed on my first home, and while our lives were full, there was something missing. There was a nagging I couldn't ignore, and it was clear my youngest son needed an emotional support animal. We went to the local MSPCA and met three cats that met our requirements. Two of them were beautiful, well mannered, snugggly cats. And then there was HIM. Six years old, he had been retuned for behavior issues twice. Missing half his fur from stress, ears gooey with antibiotics, he was hissing and hiding from us the whole time. Undeterred, my youngest son insisted he was the one for us. 

And that he was. He lived until 17. His hair grew back. He was the untimate snuggler. The boys put him in laundry baskets and pillowcases,  and he joined them on all indoor adventures, saving the world with his ninja cat skills. He was the legendary Mr. Chewey and the hole he left in our souls is still as big as the day he left.

Two years later I was overwhelmed with the need for a dog. My current husband had never had a dog, didn't want a dog, and thought I had lost my mind. The boys were now a junior and senior in High School, and we were so close to freedom. Yet, I was obsessed. I looked at so many doggos even as far away as Gorigia, but nothing was working out. I had resigned myself to stepping back when a dog popped up in my facebook feed for the third time. She was two hours away, was just through her treatment for hearworm, and had been returned to the shelter for aggression, so she had to be the only dog in the home. My husband and I decided to take the drive out and it changed us forever. While I was getting the specifics on her needs,  my husband bonded instantly. He can still remember the look in her eyes when he said he'd be back to get her next week. 

The bond was instantaneous. She needed him as much as he needed her. For the next six years she was as much a child in our home as the two legged ones were, if not more. She went to day care to socialize and work through her dog anxiety. We learned how to train her, she could walk without pullig and be off leash without issue. She is in my yongest's senor pictures. Her pawprint is tattooed on mine and my son's skin.

Three years later, I had the "calling" as we've come to be known, and needed to get another cat. Agian, nothing was quite working out, many shelters not even entertaining it becasue of our girl's German Shepard/Husky mix. Undeterred we presisted, all of us, including the dog, visiting Petsmart one day and having our cat choose us. She was gooey from stress, and blind in one eye but it didn't matter, becasue as youngest said, "all of us are a little broken". She was ours now. And while she and the dog took heir time, they eventually bonded. As the dog aged, I often found the cat sniffing the dog's fur and grooming her face as she slept.

When the dog was disnosed with Cushings disease I changed jobs to afford her treatments. My husband sold off collections he'd had for 20 years to make sure she had every test and medication necessary. We stopped traveling together in 2021 so that she wouldn't have to be away from my husband. Our world revolved around her, particuarly in the last year. The last few months of 2024 my husband did hospice care for her, getting up at all hours of the night, carrying her down the stairs when necessary, making her food from scratch, and doing daily laser therapy for her stiffening joints.

When you only have three days left, you spend it all with her. You eat all her favorite foods and get ice cream in the middle of January. You go to all the dog parks, walk downtown and pick out gourmet treats, and eat salmon for dinner. You make footprints in the first snow of the season, and sleep next to her on the floor.  You hit her with all the pain meds, and when the time finally comes, you grieve the unimagineable loss of your best friend. 

It's been almost five months and some days the pain is still as palpable as the first few days.  I'm not sure the timing will ever be right, but I know when the calling happens I want to be ready. My youngest isn't ready for another fur baby. My oldest son wants another cat. My husband wants to wait the 13 months until he's retired. I want to wait until we are fully financially recovered, and make sure the fur baby we still have is fully cared for. 

But the calling is coming. 

And so is our our newest family member.

It will not be on a whim, or an especially perfect photo on petfinder.

It will be a perfectly timed hapenstance, 

orchestrated by those we've let go, 

who know the exact size of the cracks in our hearts that need to be filled. 

Puzzling Times...

 The Hubs and I dabble in puzzle making. 

Alaska never really messed with eating the pieces, but the Keekers is an entirely different story. So our puzzling took a back seat about two years ago when she joined the family. That was until the Hubs found a competitive puzzle night once a month and we became the other half of a foursome on the last Friday of every month. I have no idea what you get when you win, because we haven't, but it is fun. 

It should be said, I hate puzzles. 

They make me feel stupid.

And yet, I can not leave one undone.

So, I bought Hubs a puzzleboard for Christmas.

I made a cover for it so Keeks couldn't get at the pieces. 

It fits nicely under the couch when we don't have one going, which is not often. 

It still does not deter the cat.

 "1000 pieces? Not on my watch!"

This was our first attempt....

Georgia O'Keefe's "Petunias". Easily the hardest puzzle we've ever done, made even more aggravating that Keekers managed to steal a piece, making it unframeworthy.

 Keekers, 1 Hoomans, 0.

Next up were two borrowed puzzles, the Boston landmarks and a scene of Venice. It poured the weekend we did these. Boston was pretty easy to do despite the small details. Venice was a bit harder as the pieces often needed to fit four or five together before they'd fall into place. Since we actively worked these over two days, Keeks was not successful in her swiping. 

Then there was a Beers Of New England that Hubs did on his own while I was at work.

 

Not a challenge.

Keeks stepped up her game for seashells, flipping the entire board about half way through. Needless to say, she successfully absconded with exactly one piece.

Then there was this one....

It should have been easy, being only 500 pieces. It. Was. Not.

The current puzzle is "Melons on the Vine", another hand me down, I'm not really a fan of the design so it's a slower go. 

But regardless of the subject matter, or how aggravating it is, it's better than watching the news.

The First Fifty Years Are The Hardest....

 Him: "You're not going to work next week?"

Me: "No. I took so time off."

Him: "Nice. How much?"

Me: "Seventeen days."

Him: *shocked* "You're gonna lose your mind."

I did not in fact lose my mind. 

I made long over due doctors appointments happen. 

I saw the dentist for the first time in 10 years. No cavities, thank you very much.

I expanded Youngest's bedroom to over twice its size. I built walls, painted, drywalled, and ran carpet without having to put it all away every night. He's got a proper closet, another window, a place for his art. He loves it. He loves being home now. And it only cost around $400. Honestly, that's the best money I had spent in a long time. 

Truth is I took that much time off to guarentee getting one specific day off. My birthday fell on a Saturday in October, and since I spent my 30th, and 40th birthdays in the hospital, there was no way I'd be spending my 50th at work. 

What I discovered, is that I'd been vacationing all wrong.

In the past I'd crammed as much into time off that I never relaxed. And while I was quite busy over those 17 days, I felt accomplished. I had some down time, lazy days, and time to think. And while the first week was spent doing much needed projects, the second was spent having adventures. 

Hubs and I took in the O'Keefe and Moore exhibit at the MFA and finally made it to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. 

The OG 3 (Myself, Oldest and Youngest) went to the Azores for 4 days. 

We walked, talked, ate amazing food, saw tons of happy cows, ate traditional stews cooked in volcanic springs, swam in geothermal pools and hot springs, and repelled, ziplined, and jumped off waterfalls. It was a much needed reset for the three of us, somehow repairing the emotional damage that happened over the last few years. The trip made us whole somehow, fixing damage that had been unspoken for far too long. The distance was good for Hubs and I as well, the whole absence making the heart grow fonder thing and all.

At the end of the vacation, there was cake. Really good cake. And a tirara. 

Every year I've learned something new about myself. And this year I learned that slowing down, taking time for myself, appreciating the small and big things, is now more important than ever. Work will survive without me. The husband can hold it all together without me being here. The boys are going to be okay. 

I just needed to close my eyes, and blindly jump off a 30 foot cliff, and get ready to take in the next 50 years. 

60 Days....

 The summers seem to go by faster and faster as the years go by. I wish I could say that July and August were spent beachside with minimal work and lots of snacking, but that would be a lie.

A great big stinking lie. 

July started with a cough.

Oldest, continuing to decline into a bronchial state, finally went to the doctor, where they found a touch of pneumonia.  Antibiotics were secured, and after a few weeks he rebounded.

Youngest also got the cough, but prefers herbal remedies, so he ended up only needing antibiotics for the double ear infections that resulted.

When I started to feel yucky, I went to the doctor and since I had no cough, it was deemed just a virus and was sent on my way. This spiraled into a 5 day 102 degree fever, which ineveitably landed me in the hospital, with double lung pneumonia. I honestly can't even tell you what happened those five days I was rendered unconscious on the couch. The boys and Hubs stepped up, handling everything around the house, and I just laid there, sleeping, hallucinating, and occasionaly getting up to pee.

I attempted to go back to work once I was feeling better, but the extreme heat and unstable blood sugar levels, left me standing at a mail unit losing my sight in one eye. After a bit of sugar, I regained my sight, finished my workday, and returned to the hospital where I was admitted to check for signs of stroke.

Thankfully it was just low oxygen and blood sugar levels, I was discharged, and was given a few more days at home to recoup. I was finally feeling better by the end of the month, just in time for the Hubs to have his surgery, and then I was back home taking care of him for four days. 

With all the chaos in the house we assumed that the dog was just out of routine. The Hubs is her person and for the first week he couldn't do much for her. So when she stared having accidents we assumed it was just stress and a UTI, and got her on antibiotics pronto.  But when she wasn't getting better we knew it was something much bigger. That's when we discovered the bladder stones on the pee pads. 

So, two days after Hubs returned to work from his 3 week recovery, she went in for surgery. Her bladder was full of sand like gravel, topped off with 6 quarter sized calcium stones that pushed out her bladder walls. The inflamation after the surgery pushed on her spine, rendering her unable to walk, lay down, or do anything really for two days. Given that I am currently going through a two week pay re-evaluation, Hubs stayed home with her until she was back on her feet. Literally. 

She's doing well now. No more accidents, walking better,  and much more agile. Hubs had his post surgery check up and his prognosis is good. The boys and I are feeling much better despite the seasonal allergy congestion. 

Fall clean up around the yard is in full swing. I have moved nearly all the bulbs and rock from the side yard so when our retaining wall is rebuilt in the spring,  yet another large project I must find the money for, we won't lose them. 

And that brings us to today and the first week of September. 

My favorite time of year.

Much better than the sweltering, antibiotic, comatosed, surgery state of summer.

Back soon, God willing, with better stuff.

Soundtrack Of My Mind....

 "For a while there it was rough

But lately I've been doin' better

Than the last four cold Decembers,

I recall..."

Youngest: You want some pizza?

He sits and waits for my reaction as I eat his newest creation.  Being gluten free, we often make a lot of things at home. He's back in the kitchen, getting creative with seasoning, vegetables, meats, and cooking styles. He used to cook all the time.  It's been years since he's been excited about it.

Y: Is the pizza good?

Me: It's actually the best I've had in a long time.

Y: That's becasue I added extra seasoning and pepper into the sauce.

Despite the mess he leaves, and the unreasonable amount of pans he uses, I am thrilled he's cooking again. He often offers to cook dinner, pasta, pizza, shepherd's pie. Last weekend he asked if I could teach him how to use the grill. We have a blackstone flat top, so it's a bit different than your standard chargrilled grates, and he was home the day I spent three hours stripping it back to bare metal, re-seasoning it.  Even he's not brave enough to mess with it after that. This cooking, along with voulentarily ensuring he takes extra vitamins, has lead to healthy weight gain, and my boy wwhoat his worst, once resembled a skelton at 120 pounds, is now a healthy 180 pounds of muscle who long boards, bridge jumps, rock climbs, hikes, and kayaks. 

I came home the other day from work, short on time, with a to-do list a mile long.

Hi Mom, I made soft pretzels, you want one?

Hell yeah I did, I grabbed one as I headed out the door to walk the dog.

Hold on I'll go with you.

He and I walk the dog together at least three time a week now. He actually keeps pace with the dog, slowing down for her. We talk. He tells me his plans. He's still struggling to find full time work, but has enough in savings to cover his bills for a bit. For now he's gone back to an old job and is looking into the possibility of just working his way up through them for now. He went with us, all of us, when we went to a huge antique show in New Hampshire. Two and a half hours both ways in the car, no complaining.  He went with us to Rhode Isalnd to see the Danish Troll sculputes. What was supposed to be a 6 hour trip became ten, and again, no complaints.

"I've found my mind, I'm feeling sane,

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith

If everything's good and it's great,

Why do I sit and wait until it's gone?"

Truth is, I have no idea what's changed, or how long this will last. In the past he's only gone a few days or a week and then he's back in the sprial. But this, has lasted quite a while now. Two months maybe? He's met a nice girl, her parents like him, we like her. We are working together to sell through much of his old life, money he's then reinvestiing in his stock portfolio and Roth IRA to build the life he wants. There's been no talk of moving out, or how much he hates *eye roll* living with his parents, but rather a more realistic plan of paying off his car, lowering his debt ratio, and then looking into buying a condo.

He's engaging in conversation.

He's participating in the house.

He's a better brother.

He's telling me where he's going, texting when he's not coming home.

He's hugging his grandparents.

He's saying thank you.

"And I thank God everyday,

for the (boy) he sent my way,

But I know the things he gives me,

He can take away.

Please stay...

Don't take, these beautiful things that I've got"

~Benson Boone,Beautiful Things

With Distinction....

Somewhere around February Oldest had a breakdown thinking he was going to fail one class this semester, something about concrete structures?, I don't know.  Anyway, he was a mess.  This of course led him down the rabbit hole of having to spend a ton more money and time finishing up his degree. 

In March, the company he's been working for 90 minutes from the house (one way) made him a job offer to stay on after graduation. They counterered back and forth for a bit and the end number wasn't enough to allow him to move out that way and pay his student loans. So now, on top of the potential failure, he had to find a new job. 

At the start of April, overwhelmed, he took some time off to finish some assignments, work on exams and generally reclaim some mental health time. I asked him if he had seen any of his grades.  He mumbeled something and said it was "fine". He worked on his resume, interviewed with two companies close to home, and waited to hear. The first offer came in solid, benifits that rival my federal ones, and an overall good atmosphere.  Thinking he'd take it, he attended the second interview out of courtesy, expecting them to not match the other company's package. Except they matched it, and came in 18K higher. 

Having tallied his student loan debt, his car payment, and his incredibly healthy (aka expensive) eating habits, the Mom in me screamed TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN but he did not. Instead he countered the first company, who came back within 2K of the second company's offer, and offered 5K per year for the next 6 years, tax free, towards his school loans. Needless to say, his starting pay is more than what 25 years in the Federal government get you.

With a job secured, he kept plugging away, freaking out over surprise last minute papers and oral presentations. 

Last week I asked if his grades were in.  

No. They post after graduation.

Then how will you know if you're graduating?

It's fine. *eye rolls* I'm going to graduate.

Saturday we headed into the big city in the pouring rain, traversing the campus one last time, found our seats, and watched him cross the stage one last time, as he recieved his Masters in Civil Engineering,

With Distinction.

Apparently, the boy who insisted he would catastrophicly fail two months prior, graduated in the top 10% of his class.

With Distinction Indeed.

Fresh Starts...

I was given another old trunk by an old friend of my husband. It wasn't in the roughest shape, but it definitely wasn't useable. I began the stripping down process months ago in the hopes that I would be able to give it to my nephew for his High School graduation in June.  Last week I finished the cedar lining and the polyurethane on the trunk, and today I sealed the tray.  The finishing touch is the trunk lid which will be lined with his gradfather's old flannel shirts, quilted together. They are very close, and someday, when my Dad is gone, it will be nice for him to have them in his legacy trunk along with his scout gear, hockey jerseys, cap, gown, and diploma. While I have gotten rid of the musty smell from the orignial paper lining, and the deep down greasy dirt of the oil cloth exterior, many of the flaws are still visible.  The patent on the lock, which had been cut, goes back to the 1860's, and rather than replace it, I polished the brass highlighting it. The flaws give it character and tell the history of where it's been. 

About four years ago, before they were insanely popular, I bought a Blackstone flat top grill. Being cast iron it was very expensive, but came preseasoned, which was great becasue I literally knew nothing about cast iron. Fast forward four years, my inexperience and laziness has left it a mess, partially seasoned, and beginning to rust. So, in between poly coats on the trunk tray, and after a deep dive of how-to videos on Youtube, I took the grill down to bare meatal and began the painstaking process of reseasoning.  It took about an hour to strip it back, and about two hours to slowly reseason. My neglect took a lot of dirty, hard work to repair. Is it perfect? No. But the surface is slick with no sticky points, and I feel like I can maintain and build on the seasoning over the coming months. 

Last year, in a moment of utter disgust, I decided we needed a better way of keeping the spare rolls of TP in the office bathroom than a half tray on the floor, so I took an old nightstand that my Dad had made and we weren't using, and brought it in. It served it's purpose well for months until one of the maintenence people decided to move it directly under the papertowel dispenser where water dripped on it all day.  The water casued mold, and it deteriorated quickly. A few weeks ago I realized that no one had been moving it when they waxed the floor and it was now anchored to the floor. *insert a loud sigh and eye roll here* With one quick jolt I freed it from it's prison, brought it home, and started the painstaking job of stripping it down.  About an hour into sanding I could hear my dad's voice saying that's never going to come out, but I persisted nonetheless, the whole while cursing myself for bringing it in in the first place.

The day was a slow moving back and forth from project to project, just me and my thoughts, consequences and regreats.

The trunk sat negected for years before someone insisted it be appreciated.

The Blackstone laid shoved aside and uncared for months.

The nightstand was cast aside, it's value disrespected, until someone had had enough.

Kind of like me.

For years I negected myself, putting everyone else first, hiding myself away in the corner. I did not always treat myself well, ignoring small things until they became big things, finding myself in places I didn't belong, for far too long.

Until one day I had had enough. I jolted myself free from the neglect that held me in place for so long, stripping myself down to figurative bare metal, and resasoning myself at my core. No more dark corners, wrong places, or negect. And while some of the scars can never be erased, I am learning to be appreciated, cared for, and to find beauty in the scars my choices have left behind.

Dullards? Dullster? It's All Quite Mundane, Really.

 Facebook's algorithms have suggested that I might like the social groups Dull Women and Dull Men of Face Book.  Apparently you can be a member of both, regardless of gender, and it monopolizes half of my feed. While I have not committed to either of these groups, I do enjoy many of the non-introductory stories posted.  Some of which are neither dull or mundane, but just rather ordinary. They are stories from all over the world, which is kind of cool, to see how others spend their everyday. And of course, they all end with an age, a shoe size (???), and occasionally, a banana for scale.

I could get offended, but I know that I am more than just a FB algorithm, and that I am more than just the sum of my posted adventures on the book of faces.

Oh, who am I kidding?

This morning I posted two indentical bottles of Paul Mitchell's "The Conditioner" side by side, one that actually conatined the correct product, and the other containing shampoo, with the caption YOU HAD ONE JOB PAUL MITCHELL. 

Alas, my wanderlust has all but come to a scheeching halt, spending every remaing day with the old girl, who can barely walk most days and today is struggling with her basic bodily functions.  The Hubs is on his way home from work, searching the grocery stores for rotisserie chicken, in a last ditch attempt to get things moving for her. He even went so far as to invest in a red light laser therapy unit as a last ditch attempt to give her some relief. If her behavior was consistant, we'd be more seriously discussing options, but it's not. She'll decline for days and then suddenly act puppy like, forver keeping us guessing and in an eternal loop of unconditional love and guilt over the ineveitable. 

I have worked 6 days a week for the last six weeks.  Assuming today would be no different, I had nothing planned for my day off and awaited the phone call which thankfully did not come. I spent the day working on another 100 year old trunk for my nephew's high school graduation, doing laundry, running lunch to Youngest who woke up late and left with no lunch or snacks for his double shift today. 

But, prehaps the highlight of the day was when I dismantled our Dyson vacuum and ran it through the dishwasher, rendering most of the pieces as clean as the day it was bought, and I found replacement filters for it for only $12. They are due to arrive on Saturday, along with the replacement blubs for my patio lights (we currently have four out), and the prismatic film for my sun roof in the car.  Becasue while I do love the idea of a sunroof, the summer sun beating through it all day, every day, is just too much. I could just close the visor but then what's the point of even having it? It's quite a conundrum. 

Upon further reflection there may be something to the algorithm. 

But Dull?

I prefer dangerously unexciting.

How Do You Eat An Elephant?

 Someone asked me this once.   

I thought it was the weirdest question.

I  mean who would want to eat an elephant?

I have still yet to fix my spell checking issues with my keyboard.  Something about the tablet having capabilities, but not the keyboard? I dunno. Just work with me here, mkay?

As it stands we are 13 months into the dog's Cushing's diagnosis. Typical life expectancy is 12-24 months once diagnosed, and we suspect she's  had it for about three years or so. She's slowed down considerably.  Her 3-4 walks of 2+ miles a day now consist of maybe a quarer of a mile each. She struggles to get up and down.  Her tail, when considerably excited, wags at haft mast. She'll muster up an occasionsal "look at me I'm terrifing" jump at a neighborhood dog here and there but then it takes her twice as long to meander home. Too make matters worse, I did my annual check in of my finances and tallied what this whole thing has cost over the last year.

$12K in vet bills.

$300 monthly in medications and supplements.

$600 monthly in food.

I'd spend it all again of course, but hope I don't have to, since I didn't have it to spend in the first place. The shear amont of debt is overwhelming and while there's a plan in place it will take some time to execute it.

Youngest has returned from Arizona.  He went to visit some friends and to check out ASU. He'd toyed with going there to get a sense of the climate and people, but with no assiatance for gap year students, and FAFSA not recognizing him as an independent adult until he's 24, at 50K a year it's just too far out of reach. We've done some research into schools in Puerto Rico, and while extremely affordable, the aspect of becoming bilingual is daunting for him. He's left one of his jobs in order to persue his certified personal training career. Building clientele is tough. Doing it while suffering from debilitating seasonal depression is tougher. It's overwhelming. He will get to where he wants to be if he sticks with it, but it's a lot.

Oldest graduates with his Master's degree in 5 weeks. We've tallied his debt as well. The number is staggering. The plan has always been to live at home while he fast tracked his way through paying it off. He has been working with a company three days a week who has given him a job offer to stay on after graduation, but they are a 90 minute commute from here, one way, and the drive is mentally killing him. He can move closer, but that changes his financial plan considerably, and as we all know, once school debt takes hold, it's brutal to get out from under it. He's updating his resume tonight and will start looking again for more local opportunities. The task is daunting, depressing, but necessary.

The husband has 862 days left until he can retire. He loathes going to work every day. The atmosphere is terrible. He's wishing the days away. One day at a time.

How I wished I could return to y'all with happier, more pleasant affairs. Yet I have all these elephants in the room with me. Which brings me back to the original question, if someone wanted to, how would one eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

If you Give A Girl....

 If you give a girl a brand new trainee the week of Christmas, she'll probably think her boss was crazy. When she tells you to give her the tools to do it correctly, her bosses will object.  She will definitely give them hell, and get her way, and becasue of that her trainee will stay for the full three weeks of training. And by the end of the month, he will be ready and she can take some time off.

If you give a girl some time off, she will proabbly find things to do, since she only had two days off the entire month of December. And since, during the month of December, Oldest totaled his car (he's fine, but the air bags went off and that deemed it totaled), and has now incurred a car payment, he's discovered he may have to live with you forever. Embracing his new fated doom, he will decide to move his room into the basement where her craft and the husband's sports card room is. 

So, since the girl has time off, she will move all of her stuff out of the space, and build out some walls and closet space. There will be drywall, and dry wall mudding, and dust, and primer, and trim work, and paint. Lots of paint. And Oldest will love it all. The husband will love his new card room upstairs. The dog, who always refused to go downstairs, will love that she can see him now while he puts together a card order to go out. And the girl will love that everyone is happy, even though all her craft stuff is still yet to be organized.

If you give the girl enough time off to build out a room, she will proabbly work on laundry while she's in the basement, and she will discover why the laundry overflow keeps randomly overflowing into the newly finished laundy/bathroom. With another day off, she'll rig something ridiculous to keep it from getting everywhere, since there's no easy way to stop it from happening. When her husband sees the trash bag, funnel and hose combination that leaves not a trace of water on the floor, he will proclaim that that is the most redneck invention he's ever seen.

He will also proclaim her a genius.

By the fifth day off, the girl will realize why it's important to wear a mask while sanding drywall and trim boards as her sinuses flare up into the worst head cold imaginable. She will of course, suck it up and go to work on the 6th and 7th day, hauling mail in the snow, sleet, and frozen tundra, thus making her sicker, which is why, she will get two more days off. 

On that day off she will realize that if she takes enough cold medicne she can conquer the world. Or at least more laundry, and a small closet space for Youngest. And by the last day off she will attempt to get spell check installed on her new tablet.

And, if she's sucessful, she'll most likely want a cookie.

Edited to add: After several attempts and a deep dive on Google, spell check is not going to happen. You'll just have to disregard my fat fingers. Also, I totally ate two cookies anyway.

Week 48...

 I think it's fair to say that the lofty goals I had of blogging every week this year prooved to ambitious.  I had a good run, but it's best that I accept the failure and move forward for those of you who are still reading.

So let's see.... I've been swamped with the new route. Yes, it's holiday, and yes, more money comes with more work, I knew all of that.  What I didn't know is that the guy that fills in for my days off would be shipped over to Martha's Vineyard for the majority of the holiday season, leaving me to work nearly all of my days off.  Or that the project I started with the auxiliary route (while I was on the smaller route) would contiue on two months later, or that another carrier would despreately need help streamlining his route for the last month.  I also didn't realize the only memeber of management that knows how to properly pay me for all of this extra work is out on medical until mid December.  To date I'm owed aproximately 14 hours of over time. It is supposed to be fixed this paycheck but I don't have high hopes. It is the federal government after all. The hardest part if I'm being truthful, is entirely mental. I'm working much longer days and just not seeing any forward movement finacialy. Quite simply, as fast as it's coming in, it's going out.  I know there will be a tipping point when I can make some progress, but that hasn't happened as of yet, and it has left me feeling very frustrated and wondering if I made the right choice.  Which I know I did, I just don't feel it right now.

My trusty laptop's power cord stopped working, rendering me with yet another very expensive boat anchor to add to the pile. And while I could easily buy a new power cord, the mere fact that it was running so slow I felt like I was back on dail up, makes me think it's not even worth it.  Thankfully, I bought a new tablet for black Friday, to give as a gift to myself after Christmas the day before the cord crapped out. Oldest is home and has help sync the necessary things to it, but finding all my passwords and reloading all my personal websites has been kind of ridiculous. Things like even finding blogger so I could type up a post are now a half hour project. Lord knows if I'll even be able to access your stories or comments. But, I will say that this new tablet is a dream to run my crafty programs on, cutting down aggrivation and time considerably. So I'm still on track for all my Christmas crafts, regardless of the fact that I have no energy to do them.

Holiday shopping is nearly done.  The bathroom downstairs is done, and worth every penny.  As soon as I figure out how to upload pictures I'll share it with you all. 

And as soon as I figure out how to get spell check on this thing, I'll be able to craft a better post, hopefully with a bit more frequency.

Until then. :)