Week Four...

 My cousin and his wife had their second baby over the weekend. A healthy baby girl, with a unique traditional Irish name that will undoubtedly never be found on stationary or bicycle license plates. The trailer was moved, has been listed on marketplace, and was processed through the RMV for an easy sale. I've been fielding many online questions, but so far, no bites.

 Youngest and I made Orang-cello, which is like limoncello, but with oranges. Yummy, but time consuming. Making the limoncello has been put on hold until he gets more sugar. 

The Hubs and I sat through his retirement interview. Ideally, he should try and go three more years, but in the meantime, we've done some rerouting of his investments, cancelled some old insurance policies that are no longer viable, and looked at some other investment options. It's a lot, for sure, but it's better to know now than months from retirement when it's too late. He's now completely obsessed with figuring out how to retire by September. *sigh*

Youngest went to his surgical consult on Wednesday.  He has three options, he could do nothing and just live with his hand the way it is.  He could have the top knuckle of his ring finger fused, which is irreversible, but could relieve some pain, and has a 4-6 month recovery time. OR he could reconstruct his tendon.  This third option comes with a 60% rate of full success, 30% rate of improvement, and only a 10% chance that it could be worse.  This option also comes with removing the balled up existing tendon in the center of his palm which could give him some relief from the pain he currently has from that. It's an 8-12 month recovery time though, which means he'll be seriously limited in what he can do for work.  It was a lot to take in as you can imagine, so for now he has a splint that will help relieve the stiffness he has in the lower joint of his finger and a semipermanent cast to simulate a fusion.  With that he can see how it will be rock climbing, at the gym, writing, etc. before he has it fused if he chooses to.

He has not asked my opinion, so I haven't given it to him. He opted to go to lunch with me after, something we haven't done in years. I validated that it's a sucky situation but let him know I wasn't coming to his pity party.  He has two weeks in the "cast" to decide. 

On an unrelated note, he said he wanted to go as a family to the casinos for his 21st birthday, so I was able to book accommodations and get tickets to the headlining comedian for late March. We did this for Oldest's 21st birthday as well.  It was a really good time. 

As the week wrapped up, it became clear that fusing his finger would never work. Living with it is not ideal, so between fits of misery and wallowing in depression, he's thinking surgery to reconstruct. Lord help me, I know he's working really hard on changing his life, but I can only tell him I don't want to be invited to his pity party so many times a day before I'll lose my mind. 

And now, as I sit ready to publish this, the trailer has sold today, and if nothing else, I am going to sit in amazement that from the time he asked for my help to the time it was done, was a miraculous eleven days. 

What can I say, some weeks I amaze myself.  Others, I find my laundry in the fridge. 

Week Three... (With Pictures)

 

The Kiki curl.  When this happens, we know weather is coming. The tighter and longer the curl lasts curl, the worse it will be. Thankfully, it only lasted about 30 minutes, unlike the 18 hours of wet snow flurries we got Sunday into Monday. Hubs and I (and incidentally Youngest, shocker) hunkered down for the most part and binged watched a reality style competitive game show called The Traitors on the Peacock network, which was unexpectantly good. The dog has had a bit of a belly bug, so I cooked her more hamburger and rice for the day, and worked on laundry. While the snow didn't amount to much, the complete lack of salting/sanding by the town, made for a treacherous half mile drive to go pick up dinner on Sunday night. 

Monday, we celebrated Martin Luther King Day here in the states, and as federal employees we get the day off. I planned lunch with two friends and had therapy in the early afternoon, and Hubs  was supposed to go to lunch with our brother-in-law. Two weeks ago, when I did the bonsai class with my niece, I grabbed some custom IPAs from the distillery for him. Our BIL affectionately calls us the "Off Cape Ber Supplier, and his WIFE" for a reason. But since the weather took a crappy turn, the beer still sits in the fridge waiting for a weekend delivery. 

Tuesday, being the day after the holiday, was quite busy at work.  Despite working a much longer day, I still came home and cleaned up the house, threw some laundry in, ran the dishwasher, and walked the dog. One of the projects Youngest wanted help with was storing and selling an 18-foot trailer, so I spent some time working on FB inquiries and searching down a tow. It's going well in that I have found a person to tow it and store it for free while it gets titled. I may not say I love you as much as I should, or give hugs and snuggles like most moms do, but there are always clean clothes and dishes, help with life's conundrums, and general order at home when the outside world gets too chaotic. It's my love language. Which is good, since Bonus Son also dropped off laundry this week, all four loads of it. 

Wednesday was a beautiful 55 degrees. I was happy.  The dog was happy. It was as good day.

Thursday my blog book arrived.  It may be dorky, but I like having the blog in book form.  No website to visit, no spam comments to weed through, you just walk across the living room and volia! there it is. Most of the time they collect dust, but the other night I found Youngest going through his childhood scrapbooks of our adventures.  So maybe, maybe, all my effort was not lost. 

The Hubs had several pre-op appointments for his upcoming surgery. Turns out, he's a candidate for a different surgery, one with a recovery time of 2-5 days as opposed to the original one he was having with a recovery time of 3-5 weeks. Needless to say, he's being referred over to the doctor who specializes in this new procedure, and hopefully things will go smoothly from there.   

Youngest has his MRI tonight, Friday, and his follow up on Thursday of next week.  From there we will decide the best course of action to reattach the severed tendon in his hand.  He also got his inspection sticker done for his car, his taillight fixed, did his own laundry without prompting, brought it all downstairs, and offered to wash the pans from dinner.  

After his offer to wash the pans, I thought I might have died right there and then, but no. Turns out I was still alive the next day when we had a real back and forth conversation about difficult things and an hour later, I got a text of I Love You. 

I have no idea what's happening with him, but I'm riding this train for as long as it lasts. 

Week Two...

 I'm trying a new format here, we'll see if it lasts. My hope is that by chronicling the weeks I can get back into the routine of writing, as well as remember to appreciate the more mundane weeks of the year. 

The weekend was uneventful, the birthday party for my cousin's two-year-old at the brewery was nice.  Kids everywhere, a private bar tender, and catered food from a local favorite. Being Oldest's last weekend at home, we have spent a bit of quality time getting him ready to leave, dotted with an occasional meal out, and binge-watching Netflix's Wednesday.  I'm not an Adams Family fan, but I must say it was quite good. Youngest spent some time just sitting with us in the living room, something he has not done in, well, years. Most notably, the vet prescribed a trial dose of arthritic medicine for Miss Alaska. Being a Husky Shepard Mix she has a predisposition to serious hip and back leg issues. We noticed a difference in 24 hours.  The old girl's running up and down the back stairs now like a spry 4-year-old. 

Monday went as quick as it came.  Oldest was dropped back at the dorm in all of 22 minutes.  Seriously, we have it down to a science now.  Plus, there's no mushy goodbye or unpacking for him since, well, he's 22 years old and can hang his own clothes. I had a preop appointment shortly after drop off.  I was mid EKG when they called me to let me know my surgery had been delayed again until mid-February. This provokes a whole host of issues as we had timed Hubs surgery to fall in line with mine without unnecessarily using up sick time. So that's out the window.  When I finally got out to the car I cried. I'm moving on now, pushing through, but it's insane frustrating to put myself off for year and when I finally decide to do something it gets delayed because of hospital logistics. 

Youngest has been showing some effort to change. Tuesday and Wednesday were successful days for him. He was able to schedule his car in for repairs and an inspection sticker which is due at the end of the month. He saw his orthopedic for his foot (from the long boarding incident in July) and his hand (knife injury in May).  His ortho called in an emergent appointment with a hand specialist, which miraculously was the same day, and he has a scheduled MRI and consult scheduled within the next 2 weeks.  We have been trying to get this set up for 6 months and it literally happened in one day. Odds are he'll need surgery for a severed tendon, but we shall wait and see.  

Thursday and Friday proved less productive for him, but I'm letting him work through it on his own for now. I'm trying to set hard boundaries, as in I'm happy to help you, but you'll have to give me some time and do it on my schedule, kind of stuff. There's no money left to dig him out of these manic based decisions so ultimately, he'll have to find a way with, or without, my help. *sigh* The polar coaster is exhausting. He did manage to have dinner with his mentor though, so that's always a positive. Youngest has avoided him for most of the last year.

I saw a FB meme the other day in which an old farmer was asked to say grace.  Loosely, it went something like, "Lord, I hate buttermilk.  Lord, I hate lard. And you know, I've never been very found on white flour. But when you mix those terrible things together, well, there's not much more I love than biscuits.  So, the next time I'm not happy about what's going on, remind me that while I may not like what I've got now, it's because you're cooking up something so much better for later."  

I'm not a super religious person, but man, that's going to be one damn good home cooked meal.

Week 1....

 New Year's was celebrated by waving Youngest's camper goodbye for good. While I didn't have the extra cash to make it happen, it was worth every penny to have it hauled away. Youngest is now tasked with resolving the other poor choices he's made over the last few months, which, while difficult, do not involve a full toilet holding tank or toxic mold within the walls.

Tuesday was an unexpected day off. The Hubs lost a good friend shortly after Christmas and I had the nagging feeling that I should take the day to see his widow at the wake. Work called at 6 am to let me know my shift was covered and at 730 the phone rang again for my pre-op anesthesia phone call.  Turns out, I needed blood work, an EKG, and a clearance note from my doctor before I head into surgery on the 23rd. After some hectic scrambling, I managed to get some appointments scheduled to ensure I will be in compliance within the week. Later that night my niece and I headed to a brewery nearly two hours away to learn how to shape, plant, and grow bonsai trees. And you know what? As tired as I was, it was totally worth it.

Our New Year's Resolution is to keep them alive.  I ordered a grow light, planted the left-over cuttings, and scheduled myself for another class, much closer to home with my work peeps. Accountability friends. Accountability is key. 

Wednesday I was back to work. They restructured our pay nationwide, and most of the routes gained 2-3 hours of pay per week. I did not.  I understand the reasoning, but it's frustrating. The hope is that since I didn't get the increase, when they restructure again in March, I will not feel the loss as hard. Fingers crossed.

Thursday the electrician, that we have been trying to get to the house for 15 months now, finally came to wire the generator plug to the panel. Mind you, it only took her 3 weeks to come, but we have waited 15 months with 3 other electricians and finally, finally, it is done. So now, in the event we lose power, we will still have heat, the fridge and deep freezer, and the all-important ability to charge phones and watch, albeit antenna, television. 

Friday so far has been uneventful, aside from a text in the wee hours of the morning from Youngest; Thanks for being nice to me today.  

The sun is supposed to return sometime this weekend, ending the 4-day run of rain and drizzle.  Still better than snow, and way better than 20-degree temps. We've got a birthday party for my second cousin this weekend. He's two. It's at a brewery. Should be fun. 

Not a bad first week of 2023.  We're moving slow, not making any loud noises, and (hopefully) quietly rolling into week two. Stay tuned...

A Day Of Rest...

 Christmas for us, looks a bit different.  With the kids grown, and working straight up to the minute, it often resembles a day of rest than a celebration of life and family. This year was no different, other than it fell on a Sunday, giving the Hubs Christmas Eve off. This allowed him to do a much-needed grocery shopping trip while I toiled away in the mail truck, so we'd have food for our annual Christmas morning breakfast and less fancy food for the rest of the day. 

Remarkably, I got home from work about 130pm, was able to catch up on much needed bills, cleaning, and gave the dog a good, albeit freezing, walk through the neighborhood while Hubs was still out running errands. Bonus son would arrive around 8pm as he was working until 730. Oldest was home around 5pm, and Youngest curved all his plans to be in for the night by 6pm. I actually snapped a picture of them all in the living room, at the same time, a true Christmas miracle. Our Christmas happens on Christmas Eve, a tradition we started years ago, opening all our gifts at midnight. 

As the years have gone by, our midnight has become 10pm, because well, we are tired. This year was no different.  We opened gifts, the boys played video games. The gifts were not as plentiful, but meaningful none the less. Oldest got plane tickets for his yet to be determined spring break trip.  Bonus son got a roomba. Youngest got a sweatshirt, multiple gift cards (portability and practical for the uncertainty of his future) and a small hand pour of silver, something he has collected and loved since his early teen years. Youngest fell asleep on the couch shortly after opening his gifts. Being a pot head, when he slows down, he sleeps. 

The Hubs got a book series he wanted, a leaf blower, and some T-shirts. I got all the boys under one roof, if not for a brief few hours, the brad nailer I wanted, some new jammies, a neat little sign and charm from Oldest. It says I love you to the moon and back, something I have said to both of them since they were born. 

And then there was Youngest's gift. It's hard loving someone who has a mental unbalance and chemical addition. Like with Oldest's gift, he thoughtfully bought it for him months ago, but they got into a fight, so he was going to keep it for himself.  Oldest saw it in the garage, so when he opened it, he assumed it was a regift.  Which it wasn't, but there was no convincing him of that.  It soured the night for him. While he's okay now, it's hard when the lines of brother and addict get blurred. Youngest fell asleep before he could give my my gift, which was okay with me, as having him home sleeping soundly was gift enough.

Christmas morning, he was so excited to give me my gift.  He said he saw it at the mall and knew it was just right for me.

Thing is, it was just right for me. Hubs and I had seen them at the mall, loved them, but determined they were way too pricey for the splurge. Somehow, youngest just knew. He knew the colors, the design, he just knew. 

I think that's the hardest part about all of this.  That my son is still in there somewhere, struggling to get out, struggling to be seen and heard. Struggling to make sense of everything. 

We all had Monday off as well, since the holiday fell on a Sunday. Oldest and I ran errands exchanging a few things that weren't quite right. Youngest was gone most of the day, his heartache today brought on by his father and that side of the family, his anger coming through initially on me, and then later towards his uncle. They were supposed to do a paper lantern lighting in honor of his 51st birthday tonight, neither one of the boys wanted to go, and they didn't.

One good thing of note, the camper *should* be heading to the scrap yard tomorrow or Wednesday, which would mean one less thing following him into the new year. I happen to have Thursday off as well, as the cat has a vet follow up for her pneumonia, and it looks as though I may not have to work overtime on Saturday. Ensuring I have one final day of rest, before we head straight into all that 2023 will bring. 

It's Been A Bit...

 Actually, it's been so long, I have no idea where to start.

Youngest moved out around Halloween. And when I say moved out, he acquired a camper, and started to renovate it. Until he found it was full of mold. And then he became homeless, living in his car. And then, the winter came. Nights got cold. And things spiraled out of control.

Now he's back, and while he's more or less following our rules, his mental health is not good. He went to a new therapist, once. I'm unsure if he'll go again.  He needs medication, he refuses.  His plan is to move across the country where he has no support. I suspect he'll be back as he's taking his unhappiness with him. In the meantime he must tie up loose ends here, which sadly has left me in the midst of camper removal and unraveling his financial messes so when he does return it's not a nightmare. I'm not sure how fruitful running away will be for more than a few weeks, as his fragile state is such that he can't even handle changing a windshield wiper.

It would devastate me if I wasn't so tired from working nineteen days straight. I am lucky as the end of my stretch came this past Sunday when I finally said I'd had enough, and by some miracle, got Monday off as well. Sure, I'm back to the grind now, but the end is in sight and the massive snow-ma-geddon that is reportedly heading our way is currently arriving as rain. 

Oldest is home for three more weeks before heading back to the city for his last two semesters. He's been exceptionally helpful, taking care of small things without my even to ask. I've come to the realization that I don't need more time or less to do, I just need an assistant. 

The Hubs has been that special kind of cranky that only comes from dealing with the public for 10 hours a day without end. Throw in a supervisor that, when the line is out the door, is playing on her phone with her feet literally up on the desk, it's no wonder his mood at the end of the day is not one for making friends. 

Bonus son is sick, not with COVID, but some other upper respiratory thing that's had him down for days. It's unlikely we'll see him for Christmas Day.

The cat seems to be on the mend since switching from pill to liquid antibiotics.  She had/has pneumonia and bronchitis.

The dog is blowing her summer coat in preparation for her new heavy winter coat to come in. It goes without saying that husky hair doesn't care... and it is everywhere.

And that's about it.

2023 better have better stuff.

2022 feels a bit like 2020 take two.

When Work Comes Home....

 Hubs and I both work for the Post Office. It has its ups and downs, for sure.  And it has changed dramatically over the years. Back in May we took some time off together to go to the Brimfield Antique Fair, an enormous nationally known flea market, that has been the backdrop for several shows on HGTV. I went with a few things in mind. Quirky things.  I wasn't looking for a deal per say, but definitely for a few affordable items that I could craft into something else.

Hubs found some unique birdhouses made of old license plates and another chainsaw carved one made of cedar. I found an old glass 5-gallon water bottle, now turned "swear jar" that sits full of change in our living room. And this...

An old bank of PO boxes, that my husband, God love him, carried a quarter mile back to the truck for me. Shortly after we returned home, the shed project took over everything and alas, the boxes sat in the garage for months. I'm pretty sure the husband thought it was going to sit there forever. Until one day when I had a few moments of time, some spray paint, and sheet of maple plywood...

(Please ignore the dirty siding on the garage.  We just haven't precured the pressure washer from my Dad yet.) And then the box sat for some more time, until I figured out what exactly it wanted to be and could afford the maple to do it.

Hubs thought the top looked like butcher block cutting board. While I agreed, I wanted it to have that older rustic look, so I completely ignored him and moved on. It definitely needed a more chunky look..

See.  It needed to be chunky. It also helped that I had it on a creeper board that I could roll around when no one was home to help me pick it up. Then it was time for stain....

I have no idea what color I ended up with.  I was all over the place with it.  But it was coming together. The legs I bought for it are 6-inch brass legs. They overhang the sides for an art deco look.  Most important, they can hold 500 pounds.  Because when this sucker was done, it was HEAVY. Thankfully, they arrived from China a month earlier than expected.  Note:  I specifically bought them from Etsy, as I am anti-amazon, and yet, they shipped from China, not the US, and arrived via Amazon.  *sigh*

Anyhoo...

After the stain and poly was fume free, it made its way into the house, where I redid the numbers with my Cricut machine. I had keys to only two of the boxes, so two locks are still intact.  Rekeying them all is far too costly, so I am getting magnetic closures for the rest of the doors, mainly so the cat doesn't take up residence in one of the boxes, as they are the perfect hidey holes. I'll keep a bottle or two of wine in there, but as I'm not much of a drinker, the rest will house cords for the TV, and other miscellaneous stuff that kicks around the living room. 

It's one of my new favorite things.

Can't wait until next May when we return to Brimfield... imagine the possibilities.

Building Walls Of Cardboard Boxes...

 Youngest's house hunt is not going so well.  Truth be told, I'm not really sure how hard he's trying.  He's out in the garage with friends, clearly getting ready to do... something. He rushes in, asking for something that he can't find.

He proceeds with more attitude as I'm putting on my shoes to go find it for him, rambling on about how I shouldn't be moving his stuff. The same stuff I moved THREE months ago, after giving him 4 days notice that his grandfather was coming, and the entire garage needed to be cleaned up, and accessible so we could get in there for tools and not break or damage any of his stuff. He did not in fact, do any cleaning, so I moved all his stuff into boxes and stacked them neatly in the back of the garage, three months ago.

I find the item in less than a minute. It's in the same box he left it in, along with some of my higher end kitchen stuff, now destroyed, that he has commandeered without permission, for his many projects. Irritated, I return to my Hallmark movies inside when the flurry of texts come in.

Now furious and frustrated, I go outside and tell him to be an adult and talk to my face instead of passive aggressively sending texts. The yelling starts.  He heads into the kitchen to clean something and drops it in the sink.  Before he breaks the other dishes in the sink, I tell him to get out.

He starts packing up the garage. He thought I meant to move out, not get out of the kitchen before he broke something. Voices are high.  We are both exhausted and frustrated with each other. Now he's packing to move out, with no place to go, but can't save face and settle back into staying, even though he's been told that that was not what I meant.

It takes him hours for pack it up and stuff it in his car.  One friend has to walk home. 

He has nowhere to go. he's undoubtedly going to couch surf with far from reliable friends.  The entire encounter was somehow different than others. Our heated exchange never got out of control, perhaps because we are just too tired for real emotion. We have done that too many times now. Just two hours before we had a productive conversation about his next steps. Now, my stomach feels as if someone has ripped half of it out.

He returns later, says nothing, drops off a backpack, picks up another box. 

He doesn't return.

We leave for work this morning, my stomach still in knots. It hurts to breathe.

I check the cameras, he's returned to get another box from the garage, which is still full of his stuff, and grabs the backpack.

The entire thing is heartbreaking. My brain says it's time, my heart is broken. Perhaps if he had an actual place to go, I would be better, maybe even helped him pack. Because in all the back and forth, he has not taken any clothes.

None.

Not even his toothbrush.

I'm not sure how one moves out without their underwear.

But if there's anything I know for sure, it's that if anyone can do it, it's my son.

*sigh*

If he doesn't return before the weekend, I will clean up the mess, boxing up all the rest of his stuff and putting it aside, so undoubtedly, he won't be able to find anything. 

Irony at its finest, I guess.

The He Shed...

 What feels like a gazillion years ago, I posted specs, a plan if you will, of a shed to be built in the backyard.  Ever obsessed with living in a castle, I had dreams of building a turret shed off the side of the garage.  Oldest had dreams of putting a sprinkler on the top that would rotate and cover the entire lawn to keep everything fresh and green all spring long.

Alas, it was not to be.  Hubs squashed the plan quickly, as we broke ground for a boring old square shed, back in June. So as not to take up any extra space in our tiny yard, the digging began behind the garage in otherwise unused space.

That fence runs along the property line.  Thankfully Oldest did land surveying all last semester for his co-op and knew all the laws for our town regarding easements and such. So we started the build...

This part took forever.  Leveling. Digging. Checking twice. Swearing. Repeat. My dad came over a few weeks later and got us started on the framing...

It was going great until we realized that the original lean-to roof wasn't going to work.  Enter why construction costs are more than expected, even when using a contractor, albeit, a retired one. *sigh*  So our plans took a turn, resulting in 30% more space, and about 30% more cost. The walls went up, as well as the roof, and tar paper to keep the rain out. To save costs I found four cords of shingles on FB marketplace for a quarter of the cost.  As a bonus, they are the exact same shingles we have on the garage and house.

At this point the heat really moved in and all plans for the outside came to a screeching halt.  No need to be on a roof in 100-degree heat if we don't have to. So, I began working on the inside, getting a plan together. Last month my dad came by and we knocked out the shingles. The following week, he and I put in an upcycled door (free!) and replaced all the siding. Hubs supervised this endeavor as he had hurt his back earlier in the week.

Behold!  The He Shed.... 

My in case of zombies wall is coming along. We've added more weapons/tools since this pic was taken...

And finally, the back side of the shed.  Originally, I had requested a door on this side as well.  Again, I was quickly voted down.  While we were landscaping this back section when all was said and done, the Hubs had the nerve to say to me, you know what would be nice?  If we had put a door on this side too... Of course, if there had been a door there, I'd likely have hit him with an easily accessible shovel.

And there you have it folks.  It took 5 months, and a whole lot of overtime to pay for it all. But all our gardening stuff, or rather the Hubs gardening stuff, has an organized home now. And even though it's not a castle turret, it does look pretty good and maximizes the space in our yard. 

Not to worry though, I still have big plans to get a turret in here somewhere.

And it will be magical.

The First Kid, Vs The Second Kid....

The months have gotten away from me as they usually do.  

I wish I could say it was all good and peaceful, but no. 

That is not how the bipolar rollercoaster rolls, or how it derails. 

Sparing the horrific and painful details, it's become apparent that Youngest is determined to do things his own way, disregarding the effects on others, or potential consequences.  He's looking for a place to stay, as he knows his time here is limited. He will always have a bed here, but it's time he learns that the toilet doesn't magically clean itself, nor does food just appear in the fridge. 

The irony of calling him out on everything, with nothing left to hide, has left him pleasant actually. It's an odd kind of calm. He's connected with someone in the area who has several Air bnb's that need occupancy for the winter. While most of his stuff will stay here, the chaos will go with him, along with his never-ending laundry. While he's not ready, it's a necessary step if we are to salvage any of our relationship.

I don't agree with much of what he's doing, as I would stay on the safer, more steadfast path, but I know if anyone would be successful in such endeavors, it would be him. Perhaps he actually is that one in a million who can see the path long before a clearing. Time will tell.

The weather has started to turn here, the leaves are slowly changing, rain has finally moved in. The mornings are crisp, humidity is gone, fall bulbs have been planted and flower remnants are all being cut back.  We're taking full advantage of being outside while we can, finishing up the endless outdoor projects that until about 3 weeks ago it was far too hot to complete.

The shed is nearly done.  

The garage is meticulously organized.

The last of the hazmat chemicals, left here by the previous owner 17 years ago, are on their way to disposal next week.

We reworked a long-neglected back section of the yard.  We replanted some bushes, set in some neglected cobblestone edgers, and planted shade plants for the spring. I reused a whole bunch of rocks to create levels in the shrub and flower area, because they were really GOOD rocks, and needed to be used. Hubs, of course, overdid it and has been laid out on the couch for the last two days. At some point he will need to have surgery for his lower back, but today is not that day.

Oldest is busily working at his new co-op.  He loves the company and hopes to have the opportunity to stay on.  If he does, they will pay for his masters degree. He comes home every so often to pick up his packages, get his hair cut, and run errands with me. It's hard to believe that he'll be graduated in August. I miss him, but it's nice being mostly just the Hubs and I now a days. No need to cook big dinners, no need to juggle cars in the driveway.

Four years ago, I had a longing, out of nowhere, for a dog. After exhaustive searching, and painful heartbreaks, we found Alaska, who completed our family and added a depth of comfort we had no idea we needed. Alaska is our rule follower, easy, aims to please, just wants to be loved. She's a calming force for us now, much like when Oldest lived here.

Three months ago, I had the same longing, this time for a cat. And, for the first two months, after nothing working out, I had all but given up. Over Labor Day we were in our local Petsmart where we saw a small cat melting into the plexiglass to get our attention. When we got home, the Hubs pestered me into filling out an application online.  Thinking it would go nowhere, I reluctantly did. Less than 24 hours later, we brought Kiki home.

Straight from Puerto Rico, she has flipped our world. She melted into Youngest, our resident cat whisperer, who clearly needs her most. She's wild, energetic, snuggly, and fresh. While she can see fine, her eye was damaged when she was wild, so her left gaze is black, and her right gaze is bright green. A turn off for some I'm sure, she fits right in, as we are all a little broken in this house. 

She's found every cobweb in the house.  Forced me to give away half my plants. She tosses everything off the edge, ensuring that everything gets put away. She topples the Hub's meticulously piled sports cards and hides in the sleeper recliner. Her complete absence of color makes her the queen of hide and seek. We finally had to GPS her collar to ensure she doesn't accidently get out. She squeaks when she snuggles, whistles when she breathes, and purrs louder than I've ever heard.  She demands attention, on her own terms. She'll let me clip her nails, while she's half asleep, and only growl a tiny bit to show her detest. 

She makes me question my sanity every minute.

I love her fiercely, but she makes me crazy.

And she's cute as heck.

Remind you of anyone?

Give Me A Bit Of Credit....

 There's big ta-dos with the government "forgiving" $10K worth of federal loans beginning in December of this year. The right says it's too much; the left says it's not enough.  When in reality it just stirred the pot on an already bubbling over problem of the higher education debacle. Perhaps they should have eliminated federal interest payments or offered the 10K to middle income families as a retroactive grant.  Either way, the politicians have found another way to divide the masses over it. 

College, the pursuit as well as the concept of it, has exponential flaws. Most of which I'm not going to get into. The cost of college is out of control, but so is gasoline, food, and everyday living. That's never going to change, too many hands in it and all. Most of the people yelling the loudest have never used federal aid of taken a loan for college costs. It's a trillion-dollar industry that's not going away until the little people stop playing the game.

But that's not what this post is about.

I have three that will benefit from this forgiveness.  One son has faithfully paid for 8 years.  In opting in, he will have the last few thousand removed from his dept load, and pay state taxes on what he's forgiven. When you consider that he paid off his principal balance 5 years ago, and all that's left for the remaining 12 years of his loan is interest payments, it doesn't really seem like too much of a free-be now does it?  But nonetheless, he will participate in the program. 

Oldest will take the money as well, because it's 10K off his six-figure debt load that will commence for payments in August of 2023. Even with paying the state taxes on 10K extra in "income" this year, it's still cheaper in the long run for him. 

Youngest is where it gets tricky.  He's stopped going to school, so his federal debt is relatively low. He had planned to begin payments last year and use the remainder of the loan as a low interest (albeit compounded interest) way of building his non-existent credit. Of course, now if he opts in, he won't be able to do that, as well as have to pay taxes on it this year.  If he opts out of the forgiveness plan, he'll pay around 3K and can claim it as a tax credit. Credit cards are not a great idea for him at this point in his life. Almost no banks offer simple interest loans anymore, and because he has no credit, if he could find one, would likely need a co-signer. If by some miraculous chance he was approved on his own, he'd be paying upwards of 18% interest. On a 5K minimum loan that would be $900 just to build his credit. This equates out to around $21 per credit point, which is crazy.

Thing is in our house, each son must have/had a plan on how to be self-sufficient by 25. 

Bonus son moved from his apartment to our basement, paid us a "mortgage" each month, that became his down payment for his condo. He signed on the dotted line at age 25 and four months, and since he'd already been paying us, his financial budget was already set to accommodate his mortgage payment. He just turned 28 and actually has money in savings after his bills are paid.

Unless some massive opportunity comes his way, Oldest already has a job offer with a company close to home after graduation.  His plan is to move home for 2 years and pay off all his debt, so he can then be free to find a place of his own without the noose of school debt around his neck.  He too will pay a "rent" in line with rents here, he and I will consult of the best ways to funnel that into the fastest payoffs for his loans, and when the time comes his budget will already be set to afford to live independently. He knows it will suck for those two years, but he also knows it's what he needs to do to be able to live the life he wants later.

Youngest, who is flying by the seat of his pants, still needs a plan. Despite his having a Roth IRA that's maxed out, substantial long- and short-term stock investments, and a hefty savings account, twenty-five will come faster than he thinks. We've begun working on his credit so that when the time comes, he can buy a car (with payments), condo, or really good tent because he can't live here. We went to the bank yesterday to discuss the credit building options. The banker, with ten years in the industry, had few options for him that weren't credit cards. All of her information, I piggy backed with my own, and catered it to his bottom line.  At one point in the conversation, when Youngest started asking about national average investment returns to offset his compounding interest rates, she blank faced looked at him and told him he was "way over her head". 

*sigh*

This is what happens when you bring a legit mathematical genius to the local bank. When we left, he looked at me and said, "She gave me a lot of good things to think about", as if I hadn't just been there when she said to him "I think your mom knows more about this than I do" and offered me a job.

So yeah, now we're looking into credit builder loans.  They offer a savings type of structured payments, so the interest is actually earned, but the payments are reported to your credit bureaus. I also added him onto the back end of my credit card as an authorized user.  Mind you the card will be cut up as soon as it arrives, but he can piggyback on my credit for a bit until he gets established.

And all this has left me kind of discouraged honestly.  The whole system is rigged against any independence for the regular 18-year-old. Their options, unless they have a VERY savvy parent, is to build credit with a credit card which has long been proven to be a bad idea, take out a compounded interest student loan with the parent as a co-singer, or succumb to the highest of interest rates for a car loan. It's crazy cakes. I spoke to my sister about it, as my nephew has no plans to go to school and thought maybe it would be something she could talk with him about. She said, no, he'd have to learn it on his own. As if she's not helping his older sister by cosigning her life away on student loans already. This, my friends, is why I make sure my nephew knows he can come to me. My sister loves my nephew but, she, like so many parents, just doesn't understand.

I think the best take away though was when I was sitting aside him at the bank, discussing credit card interest rates compounding daily, and what that actually means, and he sarcastically replied....

So glad they taught me this in school.