Regulations

I deal with regulations. Policy. Legislation. Guidelines. In my job.

No one uses everyday language in those types of things...That is why the average person does not do this....It makes your brain hurt if you do enough of it.

Today I spend the entire day with standards--policy derived from legislation. It was tedious. Hopefully it will ultimately make my job easier. I definitely increased my stash of unusual information that perhaps will pay out if I get the right trivial pursuit question.

Unfortunately, this knowledge, although extensive, is not the kind of thing that makes you a good social conversationalist...Think maybe the physical therapy was worth it for the ongoing supply of People magazine. I'd subscribe, but somehow it doesn't seem right to pay real dollars for gossip! Of course, I might be more fun at a party....But then I rarely get invited to parties--probably because I have nothing much that is exciting to talk about socially!

More socks

I finished some socks, and started some more. Littler ones--to use up the yarn. They brought forth Ohh's and Awes at the knitting group. Fun.

They should let me knit socks in meetings. I have to go to a lot of meetings. I multi-task all the time--even when there are not multiple tasks to do, like in most meetings I have to attend. I can only pretend to be interested for just so long. It is not that I am not paying attention--but I can pay attention to many things at once--just like I can read things that are upside down--and I have only recently realized that not everyone can do either of these things. Nor does everyone appreciate these things in another person!

So if I multitask only in my head--it does get loud in there. Better to DO something. Knitting is like white noise. Calming--purposeful- productive, with a definite outcome.

Come to think of it, knitting has absolutely nothing in common with most of the meetings I have to attend!

You never know who is listening...

Today M1 and E were here. We did a great day of shopping at the mall, and returned to have dinner with S. We decided to go to a restaurant/bar "in town" that had outside seating. (We cannot normally go there, as the place is so smoky you feel like you have instant lung cancer to walk inside).

When we got there, there was only one outside table left--next to a group of 30- somethings women who had pulled two tables together. They were nibbling their Quesadillas, drinking their long necks. We took the table and ordered. There was no way not to overhear their conversation.....

"And his mother gave him a beer can candle--can you believe it? What am I supposed to do with that junk? It smelled awful, and I threw it away as sooon as he brought it into the house."

"And so, they gave us all this stuff. It cost a lot, and for the same amount they could have gotten us something nice from our registry"...

"So, during the concert, all the smoke from the fireworks was blowing right on us and we couldn't see. I couldn't believe that our seats were so awful"...(note--as she blew smoke at our table!)

"I just can't stand her....blah, blah, blah"

Now, as though the constant digs and Bit..ing wasn't enough, the closest one, who had complained about the fireworks smoke, lights up another cigarette, and not only is downwind from our dinners (which have now arrived), but proceeds to blow her smoke over our dinners!

...But then we already knew how rude they were!!!

Crazy socks

I knit socks. Not particularly for any reason. I certainly do not need any socks, but they are challenging, and look pretty, and the yarns are soft and colorful. I have progressed from 4-needle socks, to knitting socks one at a time on 2 circular needles, to knitting 2 socks at a time on 2 circular needles. It is the challenge.

This is not difficult once you figure it out--but it does amaze those who have not done it. I attend with some frequency a "knitting group" that meets at a local coffee shop. They are in awe of the multiple sock knitting (and probably wonder what I am going to do with all these socks!)

An interesting group. A collection of women (a guy came once..Hasn't been back) who have very little in common except their interest in creating something with yarn and needles. There is never a dull moment however, as while the needles click and the knitted fabrics grow, the problems of the (locals, state, nation, world) are discussed, evaluated, dissected, argued, and "solved". I enjoy this group of people I have very little in common with other than the needles and yarn.

The coffee shop is a gracious host. They obviously know absolutely nothing about knitters. It is impossible to eat the pastries they sell while knitting. knitters would have to set down their knitting to actually drink coffee, which is quite unlikely in a group dedicated enough to knitting to actually go somewhere to sit around and knit with other knitters! As a group, we don't spend much at the coffee house but our time. They are nice though, and haven't asked us to stop coming. Maybe it looks better to people driving by--the coffee house is full of people--being friendly!

I finished some cotton/lycra socks that I made to match my sandals--funky, fun--intrigued by the elastic yarn. Bought enough for a little pair(actually, I bought extra, as I did not know how much yarn it would take, and have more than I thought left over)--so have started those. Fun stuff, knitting socks. Will have to decide which feet will get all of them later--but now the obsession is to see the patterns unfold--socks are intoxicating, I tell you, and some fine, challenging knitting!

The Sheenny Man Commeth

All the fan installations left me with a fan and several light fixtures--only slightly used--still in attractive operable condition. Actually, one was already in "the garage" awaiting---what?--some trip to somewhere to donate them. Thought of habitat for humanity, but I am not sure where they are, and if they would take my gently used (actually, they came with the house) light fixtures. I did not need to add anymore stuff to the stuff already in the garage, so I promised myself that these would not settle there.

Early on Sunday morning--I toted the fan boxes to the curb. Then the fan, with a nicely printed note--"works, help yourself" which I arranged attractively next to the boxes--note toward the incoming traffic. Then I started to take down the light fixtures--two were all I could carry at once.--They were added to the attractive display, canted to catch the sun, and the attention of anyone shopping our trash.

This is where the sheenny man part comes in. My parents were adults in the depression. They never threw away anything!--really. We had 40 year old balls of rubber bands. A whole drawer full of washed and dried bread bags. We saved the news papers for paper drives, and my dad sold the scrap metal at the scrap yard. If there was something that was beyond our recyclability--it went out for the sheenny man---real people who drove through our neighborhood the late afternoon/evening before trash day every week. Anything useful as set aside so as not to be confused with the trash---and sure enough, lots of stuff found a home in the back of the sheenny man's truck. Waste not want not.

Anyway, between lights one and two, and light three, I got distracted. When I did get light three down to the curb--lights one and two had been "adopted" (WOW--in an 1/2 hour!). Interestingly, the sheenny person (more politically correct for the 2005"s) had left behind a somewhat thirsty plant. Now I had a dilemma. I left light three in hopes that they were local, and would realize that they are a set--and assessed the pathetic plant. I am after all, a gardener. Could it be that sheenny person knew this, and left it for salvation? Did they just need room in their truck? Was someone just walking along the road, carrying a hanging plant looking for water when they happened upon my sheenny pile? (remember that I could not carry more than two!) The plant was a mystery--and it was all I could do to turn my back on it and walk back up to the house...But I did not need another plant--especially one that needed tlc! I hadn't asked for a trade. The lights were free. Maybe someone else would sheenny the plant!

Later, I dragged the waste wheeler down to the curb. Light three was gone. Fan was still there, note fluttering in the breeze. Plant had been moved (?).

Next morning, as I pulled out in the semi-dawn, I forgot to look at the trash pile to see if anymore shopping had occurred. That night, the note was taped to the waste wheeler---so, either someone wanted the fan, and took off the note, or the garbage men have a sick sense of humor---taping the note that says "works, help yourself" to my garbage bin---that by the way, I had to pay $100.00 for that garbage bin, which showed up not only used, but broken--but they probably knew this--which is why they were laughing-----or, someone else is not as hot because the sheenny person has installed the fan by now!

Rent-a-witness

Today I got up before 6 a.m. to "attend" a web cast wedding. Someone S. knows at work send out an email last week--with the invitation and a URL--tune in at 6 a.m.---So I get my robe, slippers, and breakfast, and S. and I huddle in front of the CRT at this ungodly hour for nuptials! It was "interesting".

There were many minutes of a rug, several chairs, a desk (obviously for the officiant), some flowers and a mirror. People occasionally wandered in front of the web cam. There was classical music. Above the web cast box were the names of the bride and groom, the date, and a statement about it being their wedding ceremony in what ever language they speak in Venice (not Venice Indiana--Venice, the country).

Pretty soon we saw the bride and groom (you could tell by the bouquet and the suit) walk past--there was talking in the background, and then everyone took their places in front of the web cam (and the world). The groom grinned at the camera, and made a joke-waving--to acknowledge the "guests"--and probably to help him get over the nervousness of getting married. They appeared fuzzy and jumpy, but I think it was the streaming video and not their reality.

There was talking by the officiant--in melodic tones, with the translator repeating things in English(well, sort of English). There were two witnesses--which S. informed me they had to hire--and a photographer. The ceremony was "nice", the translator talked much longer than the officiant. The couple kissed, exchanged rings, signed the papers. They were married.

It wasn't the same as being there, but then, Venice is sort of a long way and a huge expense to attend the wedding of some people you don't really know--just have casually met a few times. It was "digital"--sometimes becoming little boxes, not a picture, and a whole lot of "buffering" had to go on periodically--but we got the idea. Then the screen went blank. No rice or rose petals or bird seed to throw, no receiving line, no reception. No dancing, no inebriated relatives, no sugary cake. It was just "done"--and we all went on with our day...some might say it is better this way. I love the party part--the celebration of the union! It felt more like being a peeping tom than a wedding guest!

The most intriguing thing about it to me were the rented witnesses--dressed(he) in a white suit with a pony tail, and she in a sundress. I wonder how much a rent-a- witness gets paid? I wonder how often they work? I wonder if in our country this would be considered "casual labor", or if withholding taxes would result in lowering the take home pay to less than the cost of dry cleaning the outfit?

I am going to have to remember this "career" option for my retirement--I may need to supplement my nest egg--how hard can being a rent-a-witness be? They just stood there. Then they signed something. They have no continuing obligation to the couple like most witnesses do. I think I would actually be overqualified, but I could always downplay my degrees and experience, and I have some suitable "hand washable" dresses!

Hot, Hot, Hot!

I am always too hot! Much of this comes from being my age and female, but I have been too hot now for over a decade. I keep the fan running in my office at work even in the middle of winter--and of course at home the thermostat must be set on the same temperature as the meat locker at the local butcher shop for me to be happy!

I have mentioned that we moved--and left our multiple "famous brand name" ceiling fans behind. The first summer, we were busy with other things. That fall we bought three fans "on clearance"--S. so loves a clearance...and will only use the "famous brand name" ceiling fan--there is a difference! Last summer S. Installed one in my home office, probably after one of my major melt downs--which kept me happy for the summer! Then, last fall (again on clearance) we bought the "mother" of all "famous brand name" ceiling fans--a 62" number that was installed by D. and friend with S's supervision--to suck the air conditioning up into the upstairs (heat rises, and we have an "unbalanced" system!) It has not stopped lazily twirling in our 2 story foyer since!

The fan in our bedroom (installed by the former owner) was small, and somewhat noisy. The moment was right, and we brought home another 62" "famous brand name" fan to install in the cathedral ceiling (which poses it own set of problems). It was a "one more trip to the home improvement store" experience that took twice as long as anticipated. It has been silently spinning around ever since--keeping air moving to take the heat away from my sleeping body. On "lo" it moves more air than the prior model on HI! Ahhhhhh

Since this was such a success (in relative terms), S. decreed that the weekend fun would be to install the other two ceiling fans that I have been dusting the boxes of for over a year now. The rational was that it is easier when the directions (and our lame mistakes) are fresh in our minds.

We started mid-morning. S. had trouble getting the new electrical box up into the attic--there was much expletiving--and whacking away at the drywall with a utility knife. When S. reaches maximum frustration he does this little venting scenario where he shakes and his eyes roll back in his head while he recites every expletive and expletive derivative he has ever herd. We were there! I suggested a break. He said as soon as I get this !@#$%^& box installed.

He reaches up into the ceiling with his left hand--and I see him grab the utility knife with his right. Although when he is in this state, and experience tells me it is best not to make any noise, I could not resist warning him of the impending disaster--"Don't cut toward your"....Too late! Fortunately, during the chipmunk massacre we experimented and found a combination of cleaners that will remove blood from carpeting.

Needless to say, we were off to the emergency room. They have a 30 minute guarantee--to see the doctor, not to be in and out of the place--We return in time for dinner, with S. sporting a large white bandaged finger--determined to get the !@$#%^& fan installed. I helped (although to hear him tell it, I didn't help much), and another trip to the home improvement store was required because the !@$#%^ screws were not long enough because the !@$%#^ joist hanger didn't set right on the drywall...(note, no admission of installer error)....

Sunday went much better--S. was gone, so I took out the old fixture and box, drew the outline of the new box, cut out the drywall, and did the pre-assembly--even vacuumed up the mess. S. was home in time for the "real" action, hanging the thing up. On Sunday, we did not even have to go to the home improvement store at all!! The expletive count was very low. I attribute it to my reading the directions step by step and using logic, not blunt force...

Now we have 5 ceiling fans in our upstairs. If I turn them all on at once, I am afraid that our house might rise up off the foundation like a helicopter--but at least I am not as hot! S. on the other hand, has some healing to do.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

I can blame it on the retirement "office". As a part of this whole preparing for retirement, which still isn't even visible on my horizon, I needed to check on some things for our financial advisor. One thing led to another--and I ended up talking to the "retirement office". We don't agree on my years of "credit"--and I know they are not right! My fault for having a string of employers over my professional life (all part of the same retirement system). Anyway, they need my "documents"--from the 70's if I am to get enough money to support my habits when I stop working!

Now most people would just laugh at the idea of finding a few pieces of paper from 30 years ago(I suspect a secret scheme by the "office" people, who are surely younger than my generation, to reduce my benefits). I however have saved nearly every scrap of paper that has entered our lives since 1968--just ask my kids! Unfortunately, in the more or less organized category, most of it is "less". Thus, began my "trip".

I started with a file cabinet that we moved into the garage when we moved here. It hasn't been opened since (?)...But we both knew "important stuff" was in there--our lives from the 70's--the decade I was looking for! I borrowed the shredder from S's office, and stared with the top drawer.

As I worked my way through the drawers and folders, I was there again---a young mother buying new carpet for our home in 1973--$500.00 for the whole house--and paying for it over 12 months "same as cash". There was the first washer--bought used from a neighbor, a dear sweet lady in her 70's who was moving to an apartment, and who meticulously wrote out a receipt--I can still see her digging in the flower gardens along our adjoining driveway--although I am sure the only flowers she tends now are in the afterlife. Too bad I didn't appreciate her gardening more then.

There were the orthodontist assessments and contracts, obligating us to thousands of dollars in payments--for the promise of children with pretty teeth. There were the bills for the deliveries of "the four"--varying degrees of cost depending on the insurance coverage at the time, 4th grade assessment scores, receipts for T.V.'s , band camps, ice skating lessons, and thousands of Rx receipts. There were major medical statements, appointment letters and resignations, retirement plan statements, and roll-over papers. And Tax Returns. Decades of bank statements, credit card bills, insurance bills, papers related to various cars, homes bought and sold, the receipts for violas, drum sets, and horns, furniture delivery notices, and rent receipts. Pretty much in that order--decades mixed together as we moved (literally and figuratively) through our lives.

There were the flood of memories when I found something in my dad's handwriting, the trust account statements for the kids that noted my mothers regular and religious $5.00 deposits-- used to help finance their college experience, a note from my father-in-law about insurance to consider. Things I should have appreciated more at the time,--as would love to be able to consider their advice again. There was the occasional art work created long ago in elementary school by one or the other of "the four", and piles of paperwork related to one emergency room or another. There were research papers and my dissertation, transcripts, and lots of the kid's report cards.

I started shredding the 60's and 70's last night. Today, I started in on the 80's--so much paper accumulated over 36 years! It was slow going--had to sort into save and shred (took much longer than the time they allow on Clean Sweep!) Then there was the pacing the shredding, so that the shredder would not overheat!

I finished four drawers--and have filled our waste wheeler with tiny shreds of our lives--the important stuff that is left will fit into one drawer--in the house, not the garage--which has caused the start of another project--make room in the file cabinet by shredding the 90's!

And after all of this--the exact two years that I need are still MIA's--somewhere in the other drawers, tubs, and boxes holding the scraps that record our lives--I just have to wade trough them to find the specific check stubs and W-2's....And continue my long over due "purging" of our old gas, water, and electric bills. (Would you believe that once we only paid $17.95 for cable?)

The amazing thing, was that we survived the life those bits of paper represent! I looked at the amounts on the bills--yesterday's dollars--but still a lot! People used to say to me (trying to reign in four kids in public) "I don't know how you do it!" Now that I have peeked back into our financial lifetime, I have no idea how we did it either! I am just glad that I don't have to do it anymore.....

Maybe this obsession with "saving for retirement" will be much easier than paying for a life of raising four kids! It certainly requires making fewer payments! Hope the reward is as good---because even though it was incredibly expensive, our lives over the past 36 years were worth it! I would much rather have a file drawer full of orthodontist receipts, records of instrument purchases, and Rx galore, than the trade off of early retirement with a fat retirement account--and no family to enjoy it with!

And I promise myself that once I find the documents I need, I will continue the trek--to organize and purge, and then to continue to use one of those "Martha Stewart" or "Simple" feature article tips and set up an annual disposal schedule for the things that we need not keep (yeah, right)!

A more likely scenario is that I will get busy living my life, and continue to allow my scraps and statements to accumulate in the boxes, tubs, and drawers in a more or mostly less organized fashion. Maybe when I need to formally set up things with the "retirement office" I will finish the task completely and have a "system"---but that will not happen until the next decade--so I have lots of time to try! And it was fun to relive the 36 years--a page at a time!

What happens when you buy a scratch and dent house....

Two years ago we moved into our "new" house. It wasn't really new, but it was new for us--a departure from the "resalable" suburban homes we have purchased in the past--with room for the kids, a yard, close to schools, etc. Freed of all the constraints, it is finally "all about us"--what we want/need (?) , can afford, and of course, location, location, location.

It started with unusual circumstances coming together at just the right time. It was an opportunity, and we started our search. First with the internet, then, having located the "perfect house", we called the realtor and arranged to see it. The house was very nice--but not quite in the right place. But we liked the realtor, and made a new friend!

The next year (yes a whole year) involved surfing, phoning, touring, etc. with our new found friend. We finally (just like the last house, but that is another story) settled on the "pink house" in what we had determined was the perfect location. It was exactly the same length of commute for both of us, and had good expressway access. Unfortunately, the owners of the pink house (which would not have stayed pink long anyway) felt the house was worth much much more than we were willing to pay. So after numerous offers, we looked at another house in the same neighborhood--cheaper, but a scratch and dent house--more in keeping with our housing history!

We quickly calculated what repairs were going to cost and shot off an offer--which was accepted. So, thus began our journey with our "new" house. It had bats, mice, and a water heater that was leaking--if you can see the potential in that, I guess you can like just about anything. The bats are gone, the mice have been eliminated, and water heater replaced. We also have new paint everywhere (well almost), new countertops in the kitchen, all new appliances, some new furniture, and have settled into what the kids call "Stately Wayne Manor"--living in the middle of nowhere, close enough to a Costco that S. doesn't have withdrawal, and close enough to shopping to keep me happy. Our realtor calls it a "grandma's house", our friends call it a "party house". It is a great house for S. and I--we can each retreat to our own space--and have lots of room to entertain (which we should do more often).

But the BIGGEST project to date has been the replacement of 33 windows! After several estimates, we decided on a famous, nationally known window. We started this process in January--and now 7 months later--we may finish next week when the window parts and installers come for, hopefully, the last time.

Now don't get me wrong--I like the window guys! I spent a whole week with them in February, and another whole day in June--I am just tired of not having the windows done (especially for what they cost!). I love my new windows, but the process has not been what the smiling people in the sales brochure would lead you to believe.

So, if you buy a scratch and dent house, and plan to have "the man" put in the most expensive replacement windows on earth, bring your patience---if your experience is like ours, you will need it!

All In A Days Work

Last week I attended a conference in the northern part of my state with a group of my "professional peers". This is relevant only because I am the "Director of Homeland" security at my house--and when I am gone, I must delegate the responsibility for keeping the doors locked, windows closed, alarms on, and especially, reminding those who live here and visit to close the doors (to keep bugs, heat, vermin, etc. Out). When I leave, S. is in charge--the cause for some concern, since he is the one who is always leaving the doors (especially the garage doors) open.

We live in an area zoned "rural residential"--a minimum of 3 acres per homesite--with the accompanying wildlife--skunks, squirrels, chipmunks, deer, raccoons, possum, assorted other ex-urban wildlife, and the occasional wolf. S. Feeds the squirrels, because they are so cute, and by default, the local raccoon and a few assorted chipmunks, who chow if the squirrels don't eat it all first. Because S. Keeps the stash of corn cobs in the garage, I think it important to keep the garage doors closed to prevent the pilfering of these goodies by an unintended guest.---S. doesn't see this as a priority--but he isn't the one who ends up face to face with the wildlife in the garage (like I have)!

So, when I return--I begin to lug in all my stuff. I had stopped at the two outlet malls that were conveniently located on my route home, scooping up bargains as I made my way ! On each trip in from the car, I deposited my "stuff" (old and new) in the foyer, staged for the trip upstairs. I had just finished the fourth and last trip, when S. (who has been sitting in his office all this time, staring at the computer screen) wanders out (now that the lugging is safely done) and suddenly yells, "what the ....."??????! He demanded to know what I had dropped in the hall that he had just stepped on!---a flick of the lightswitch showed a chipmunk--or rather the front and back parts of a chipmunk, with most of the middle missing! I did not bring this in from the car!

Seems that Mr. Cat had heard my arrival, and decided to bring me the extra parts of the chipmunk that he had no further use for! A scan of the house quickly disclosed the location of the great chipmunk massacre of 2005--the exact middle of the media room! In addition to the residuals of the "take down and elimination" mission, it seems that chipmunk liver was a little rich for 14 year old Mr. Cat, and (thankfully) his stomach refused to process it--sending it back out the way it came in! Although we were not pleased with the modification of the carpeting, both S. and I were amazed and pleased that the cat was "not used up yet", and still could defend his turf!!

Shortly after moving in, we could have used Mr. Cat's assistance to take care of the mice that thought they should share our home. Apparently chipmunk is more tasty, or more annoying, than mice, as Mr. Cat ignored the mice--forcing us to resort to traps in the pump room to eradicate the unwanted rodents. He seems, however, to have been right on top of being the assistant deputy of homeland security where chipmunk invasions are concerned.

I have no idea how the chipmunk got in, but suspect that S. is somehow behind a breech of security--leaving a door open here or there long enough for a chipmunk to scurry in, either when he was bringing in or taking things out to his vehicle, or that the garage door had been open for some time, then the connecting door long enough to get some tool or other. Either way, I am pretty sure the chipmunk realized the error of his choice early on....

Mr. Cat is pretty proud of himself--and is more alert than usual. Seems that now, in addition to the napping and soaking up the heat of the sun, he has at least a passing interest in maintaining his position as the only furry thing living at our house!! It is nice to have someone to share the load!