I returned to my office cube today, after much time "in the field"--which has nothing to do with empty lots--but lots to do with being in the "real world". The stuff was piled 2 1/2 feet high in my chair--phone message light was frantically blinking, and the email folder was brimming.....No finish line in sight here.....
Did finally get the last of all those daffodil bulbs planted last weekend. The bag said 100---I swear they multiplied in there when I walked away. Know I planted many more than 100! Can't wait to see what survives the critters--who have been known to dig up and munch them! Of course, on three acres, another 100 + daffodils will hardly be noticeable.
Not that I am at the finish line yet---as succumbed to another "impulse purchase"--of 30 bulbs ---yet to be planted. If I work fast, I might get them in before the ground freezes solid! They are great---actually repel the deer. Oh, how my gardening has changed! Now it is not about color, height, smell, or my likes. It is only about finishing with things the deer detest and will leave alone!
Will let you know if I ever catch sight of the finish line--either in my garden or at work!
Random musings of a middle aged knitter.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Mothering and tulip bulbs
So "child" 1 had some "minor" surgery on an outpatient basis (what they call almost everything these days, short of replacing all of the patients internal organs). She had to have a "responsible" companion accompany her, so I got the job. It was sort of boring sitting around the Hospital ALL DAY, but I did manage to read a whole book, knit some of a pair of socks, watch Martha Stewart make a pizza, and visit the hospital cafeteria. After several hours of waiting (stay in this room so the surgeon can talk to you were the orders), a cute young (to me) surgeon dutifully reported on her condition, then indicated that I should wait some more until she was in the appropriate stage of recovery for me to join her (vague translation--until the medical profession is done collecting money from her insurance company, and they are going to return the "in the old days would be hospitalized for days" relative to you to take home and deal with as best you can.)
Fortunately, I had four kids and two parents, and between them and their escapades, and illnesses, I got good at the blood and yetch handling. It probably also helped that I was once in a former life, and admitting clerk for an urgent care, where people would routinely bring me the body part that was detached by the hedge trimmers, and offer it up, (like the admitting clerk was prepared to do anything about it!)
So we take the woozy, bleeding patient home, and give "home nursing" our best shot. Since 1 is an adult, you can only do so much. I suggested it was time to take her antibiotic, but she insisted that she had already taken it. Choose your battles--push the pain meds....Makes them sleep more and are easier to care for. So I made sure that she did not bleed out, kept breathing, and was relatively comfortable. That leaves a lot of time to knit--cute pair of socks from Swiss yarn is almost done.
Yesterday was 70 degrees--amazing for our climate--so during a nap for 1, I tidied 1's gardens (not hard, they are smaller than my kitchen table) and planted 30 purple tulip bulbs in her newly created beds near the sidewalk. Such fun to 1) be enjoying the warm sunshine in November and 2) have some decent dirt. 1, who is still to young to appreciate the dirt in ones yard, is oblivious to my enjoyment of the process. In May, she will be thrilled with the purple display at the end of the sidewalk. Happy Birthday! (got the bulbs on end of season clearance sale--very nice collection that might just be a little up market for her neighborhood, but will look stunning I hope).
Since we were both bored, we dragged the convalescent to my house--more space, bigger screens to watch, and stashed yarn!! Things are looking up for the surged upon, and more days will make things still better. It is still not fun, even if you can convalesce in your own home--or your mothers! At least her flower beds look nice.
Fortunately, I had four kids and two parents, and between them and their escapades, and illnesses, I got good at the blood and yetch handling. It probably also helped that I was once in a former life, and admitting clerk for an urgent care, where people would routinely bring me the body part that was detached by the hedge trimmers, and offer it up, (like the admitting clerk was prepared to do anything about it!)
So we take the woozy, bleeding patient home, and give "home nursing" our best shot. Since 1 is an adult, you can only do so much. I suggested it was time to take her antibiotic, but she insisted that she had already taken it. Choose your battles--push the pain meds....Makes them sleep more and are easier to care for. So I made sure that she did not bleed out, kept breathing, and was relatively comfortable. That leaves a lot of time to knit--cute pair of socks from Swiss yarn is almost done.
Yesterday was 70 degrees--amazing for our climate--so during a nap for 1, I tidied 1's gardens (not hard, they are smaller than my kitchen table) and planted 30 purple tulip bulbs in her newly created beds near the sidewalk. Such fun to 1) be enjoying the warm sunshine in November and 2) have some decent dirt. 1, who is still to young to appreciate the dirt in ones yard, is oblivious to my enjoyment of the process. In May, she will be thrilled with the purple display at the end of the sidewalk. Happy Birthday! (got the bulbs on end of season clearance sale--very nice collection that might just be a little up market for her neighborhood, but will look stunning I hope).
Since we were both bored, we dragged the convalescent to my house--more space, bigger screens to watch, and stashed yarn!! Things are looking up for the surged upon, and more days will make things still better. It is still not fun, even if you can convalesce in your own home--or your mothers! At least her flower beds look nice.
Is your refrigerator running?
When we moved in, the refrigerator that was in the house had 1) not been cleaned when the prior owner moved out 2) been turned off from September to January and 3) was, as a result, unusable.
The husband declared with glee that we should buy all new appliances, which was where I was going anyway. He had the hots for a Ice/water dispenser in the door (which my genetic link to my father told me was a useless gadget that would just be something else to break--except in my case, I substituted "clean" for "break"). He carefully researched, compared, shopped, and selected his fridge--my only stipulation was that it be white (I have done the other than white appliance game, and refuse to pay again).
When the enormous fridge was delivered, it would not fit into the space.(I could point out that I did ask if he had measured the space prior to the purchase, and he assured me that they were "standard", but that would be one of those things that annoys husbands). The fridge was parked near the opening, and more power tools were purchased to take down the edge of the cabinet. Lots of muttering, whirring, and expletives later, and with great effort, the frige was jammed into the space.
When it runs, which is often, everything vibrates--the floor, the cabinets, everything in the cabinets, and I suspect everything in the walls connected to the cabinets. People often ask (in a frightened manner)--WHAT IS THAT?!?--It is just the refrigerator running (or rather the "symphony" of my kitchen). It sounds like an earthquake is beginning and we are at ground zero! You get used to it after awhile--just like people who live at the end of an airport runway or next to the railroad tracks do!
In defense of the husband, the floor is too high, which we did not discover until quite some time after moving in. He has removed the floor to make the stove and the dishwasher "fit". Turn out that appliances are "standard" (sort of), but our kitchen is not.
I am not excited about the floor removal under the fridge....So live with the noise--and know that the next time, I will measure the openings before he selects a model! Once they push the fridge into that opening, they are not going to take it out to further reduce the cabinet--no matter how awful it sounds!
The husband declared with glee that we should buy all new appliances, which was where I was going anyway. He had the hots for a Ice/water dispenser in the door (which my genetic link to my father told me was a useless gadget that would just be something else to break--except in my case, I substituted "clean" for "break"). He carefully researched, compared, shopped, and selected his fridge--my only stipulation was that it be white (I have done the other than white appliance game, and refuse to pay again).
When the enormous fridge was delivered, it would not fit into the space.(I could point out that I did ask if he had measured the space prior to the purchase, and he assured me that they were "standard", but that would be one of those things that annoys husbands). The fridge was parked near the opening, and more power tools were purchased to take down the edge of the cabinet. Lots of muttering, whirring, and expletives later, and with great effort, the frige was jammed into the space.
When it runs, which is often, everything vibrates--the floor, the cabinets, everything in the cabinets, and I suspect everything in the walls connected to the cabinets. People often ask (in a frightened manner)--WHAT IS THAT?!?--It is just the refrigerator running (or rather the "symphony" of my kitchen). It sounds like an earthquake is beginning and we are at ground zero! You get used to it after awhile--just like people who live at the end of an airport runway or next to the railroad tracks do!
In defense of the husband, the floor is too high, which we did not discover until quite some time after moving in. He has removed the floor to make the stove and the dishwasher "fit". Turn out that appliances are "standard" (sort of), but our kitchen is not.
I am not excited about the floor removal under the fridge....So live with the noise--and know that the next time, I will measure the openings before he selects a model! Once they push the fridge into that opening, they are not going to take it out to further reduce the cabinet--no matter how awful it sounds!
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Trick or Treat!
Tonight is the "officially declared by the neighborhood association" time for Trick or Treat. An hour into the "designated time', I had 7 tricksters demanding treats at the door.
Now, I am not complaining. We live in a subdivision, however the smallest lot is 3 acres--so it is not only a long walk between houses, but also a long walk up (and down) each driveway. The first year we lived here, people brought their children and grandchildren to trick or treat on their lawn tractors, golf carts, ATV's etc.
Silly to us at first, but I suppose it is really the only practical way to supervise the children without collapsing in exhaustion. I am amazed that any kid would make the effort to walk for some candy these days!
We have had a butterfly and (I think) Marilyn Monroe--both about 13. The butterfly lives across the street. They were followed (45 minutes later) by a group of early adolescent boys--a banana, a hobo, and what looked like a teen age kid holding a pillow case..wonder whose idea the banana was?. One of them is the brother of Marilyn Monroe I think--but don't ask me which one... They were appreciative of the sugary goodies I doled out--being grateful I suppose that I gave each a handful, not just one thing.
Next a mini van drove up the driveway. Elvis and his sister, the princess, were about 4th grade and 1st grade respectively. The princess had difficulty with the dress and the mini van door--causing shreeks! Elvis was wearing his white suit, and exclaimed how much he liked animal crackers....I also gave Dad a Kit-Kat--knew it was going to be a long night for him!
In the "good old days", when our kids were little, we lived in a subdivision where you could practically touch the house next door. We had 13 five year olds at our kindergarten bus stop the first year we lived there. The next year brought a new baby in almost every house. We got hundreds of trick or treaters per hour in those days.....Thousands all together! Little ones, big ones, clutching plastic pumpkins or pillowcases. We went for quantity, not quality in those days--buying huge bags of whatever Meijers had on sale!
Our kids would make several trips--do a street, dump the bag. Do another block, dump the bag again. Sometimes, then even took the time to sort it, and dump what they didn't like back into the trick or treat bowl, to be "recycled". Dad and I took turns going out with them, or in the years that he was traveling, another work widow mom and I would tag team them. We had Halloween candy through valentines day! When the kids were young adolescents and big enough to "do" trick or treat without mon/dad, they would see how many subs they could "do" with their friends--starting with the home sub of each. We had Halloween candy past Easter.
I have a soft spot for the cute little ones. Little pumpkins, rabbits, and witches who can barely pronounce trick or treat. I used to give out spider rings, spooky erasers, fake plastic teeth, etc. from the novelty store in keeping with my "nutrition" background. Over the years, it became easier to go to the fast food coupons, and now that I have some left over every year, we have gone to the candy bars. I try not to buy any that I like--but then no one else likes Clark Bars much either in my estimation. This year, we have smarties, nerds, Kit-Kats, and for the little ones cute little bags of animal crackers. For myself, I bought a bag of Pay-Days.
90 minutes into this and kids number 8-11 arrived. The fat lady at the circus, a hockey player, a boy in a black hooded thing (more like the gouhl without the mask) and a girl in an old navy shirt, who looked amazingly like Marilyn Monroe without the wig --and who offered a little too hastily that she really had not already been here.....they arrived via lawn tractor pulling a cart, which I suppose might make it worthwhile to come back if you had the chance to ride.
No blood, guts, or particularly clever outfits. Of course the average age of the trick or treaters so far has been 12.
I suppose it is different these days. My kids predated the X-raying of Halloween candy. Parents knew everyone on the block, and in neighborhoods, somebody always knew the other residents. Today people come and go, and I never even notice. I have met the neighbors twice at a homeowners meeting. I know a few by sight, a couple by name. I am more likely to be able to come up with what they do for a living than their name. Society is definitely different. The news had a featurette on how to look up who the sexual predators were in your neighborhood before you went out for trick or treat.
Like I said, I am amazed that the kids even bother.....
Now, I am not complaining. We live in a subdivision, however the smallest lot is 3 acres--so it is not only a long walk between houses, but also a long walk up (and down) each driveway. The first year we lived here, people brought their children and grandchildren to trick or treat on their lawn tractors, golf carts, ATV's etc.
Silly to us at first, but I suppose it is really the only practical way to supervise the children without collapsing in exhaustion. I am amazed that any kid would make the effort to walk for some candy these days!
We have had a butterfly and (I think) Marilyn Monroe--both about 13. The butterfly lives across the street. They were followed (45 minutes later) by a group of early adolescent boys--a banana, a hobo, and what looked like a teen age kid holding a pillow case..wonder whose idea the banana was?. One of them is the brother of Marilyn Monroe I think--but don't ask me which one... They were appreciative of the sugary goodies I doled out--being grateful I suppose that I gave each a handful, not just one thing.
Next a mini van drove up the driveway. Elvis and his sister, the princess, were about 4th grade and 1st grade respectively. The princess had difficulty with the dress and the mini van door--causing shreeks! Elvis was wearing his white suit, and exclaimed how much he liked animal crackers....I also gave Dad a Kit-Kat--knew it was going to be a long night for him!
In the "good old days", when our kids were little, we lived in a subdivision where you could practically touch the house next door. We had 13 five year olds at our kindergarten bus stop the first year we lived there. The next year brought a new baby in almost every house. We got hundreds of trick or treaters per hour in those days.....Thousands all together! Little ones, big ones, clutching plastic pumpkins or pillowcases. We went for quantity, not quality in those days--buying huge bags of whatever Meijers had on sale!
Our kids would make several trips--do a street, dump the bag. Do another block, dump the bag again. Sometimes, then even took the time to sort it, and dump what they didn't like back into the trick or treat bowl, to be "recycled". Dad and I took turns going out with them, or in the years that he was traveling, another work widow mom and I would tag team them. We had Halloween candy through valentines day! When the kids were young adolescents and big enough to "do" trick or treat without mon/dad, they would see how many subs they could "do" with their friends--starting with the home sub of each. We had Halloween candy past Easter.
I have a soft spot for the cute little ones. Little pumpkins, rabbits, and witches who can barely pronounce trick or treat. I used to give out spider rings, spooky erasers, fake plastic teeth, etc. from the novelty store in keeping with my "nutrition" background. Over the years, it became easier to go to the fast food coupons, and now that I have some left over every year, we have gone to the candy bars. I try not to buy any that I like--but then no one else likes Clark Bars much either in my estimation. This year, we have smarties, nerds, Kit-Kats, and for the little ones cute little bags of animal crackers. For myself, I bought a bag of Pay-Days.
90 minutes into this and kids number 8-11 arrived. The fat lady at the circus, a hockey player, a boy in a black hooded thing (more like the gouhl without the mask) and a girl in an old navy shirt, who looked amazingly like Marilyn Monroe without the wig --and who offered a little too hastily that she really had not already been here.....they arrived via lawn tractor pulling a cart, which I suppose might make it worthwhile to come back if you had the chance to ride.
No blood, guts, or particularly clever outfits. Of course the average age of the trick or treaters so far has been 12.
I suppose it is different these days. My kids predated the X-raying of Halloween candy. Parents knew everyone on the block, and in neighborhoods, somebody always knew the other residents. Today people come and go, and I never even notice. I have met the neighbors twice at a homeowners meeting. I know a few by sight, a couple by name. I am more likely to be able to come up with what they do for a living than their name. Society is definitely different. The news had a featurette on how to look up who the sexual predators were in your neighborhood before you went out for trick or treat.
Like I said, I am amazed that the kids even bother.....
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
On boys, bathrooms, and other b words
I am in the "why is it that" stage of my life--akin to the 3-6 year olds who always ask "why"? I don't really ask why, but I do ponder the "why's" for many things. Guess when you get to a certain age, the experiences you have had give you a large database from which to draw some conclusions.
For one thing, why is it that male restrooms are ALWAYS more dirty, smelly, and "trashed" than women's? Now, some would wonder how I became an expert on male bathrooms (I am myself female) and it has a lot to do with my job---which I have vowed not to talk about in my blog---so lets just say that I have the opportunity to legitimately visit multiple male (and female) restrooms all over my state in the course of my work....And universally, the male facility is not as clean as the (usually paired) women's restroom.
Males seem to be flush adverse--regardless of where I am. It is some primal, "hunter" man thing? It is a marking thing? Are they just lazy? Do they need to leave evidence behind--threatening to the next competitive male toilet/urinal user? Are they just gross? Haven't answered the "why" on this one, but I can assure you that I occasionally find a lack of flushing in the women's room, but I routinely find a lack of flushing in the men's room. If a women created those auto flusher things (don't know who did, but my guess is that women are more likely than men to care about such things!)my guess is that she had a job like mine!
Which explains (I guess) the smell--sort of.
I also suspect that regardless of the flushing habits of natives in a particular location, the odor is also "enhanced" by the attitude(s) of the persons who have responsibility for cleaning the bathrooms. I suspect that there is a direct correlation between the adversion to flushing and the attitude of the person cleaning the facility. Less flushing = less enthusiasm for cleaning---or maybe the smells just hurry them along. Regardless, my "research" so far is that even if there is no immediate evidence of flushing adversion, the male bathroom will be less "clean" and smell worse than the female facility in the same location.
That being said, sometimes women can be messy. Especially if appropriately sized containers are not provided for the things they wish to dispose of...Or if those containers are full. Paper products will end up on the floor in those cases--in the vicinity of the containers...... Not so in the men's room. Their disposed of "stuff"--which often is much more than hand towels, is likely to be any and everywhere--newspaper, toilet paper, even food wrappers (I wonder why--ick!) and today, I actually happened upon a discarded 1/2 sandwich (so gross) in the middle of the bathroom floor. What is it that those men are doing in those smelly, dirty bathrooms? Surely one cannot want to spend time in there reading stuff (ohhhhhh, the smell) or (here is where I gag...) eat food in there. I guess maybe women have a purse to stuff all that into---but men just drop it wherever they are done with it???? Better explanation than actually contemplating the alternatives.
Now, most men and boys I know share a home with someone (or more than one) female. I am not sure of the exact ratio of people to bathrooms in the average household, but again based on my experience, if there are both genders in a household, I am pretty sure that at times they use the same bathroom...None of my friends have bathrooms in their homes designated "male" "female". Also, none of my friends or even acquaintances have bathrooms that approach the conditions (even on their worst day) of most "public" restrooms.
So, the Why is also that if these men/boys can somehow manage to share a bathroom with the females in their household without creating the same conditions that exist in "men's" rooms, is it tied to exclusivity? Just for males---smelly and gross--shared with females....Better behave...Be neat...Clean up....At least somewhat (hey, I have lived with 3 males in my house)
So that brings me to today's final why--related to all this pondering...
when we moved into our house in the woods three years ago, our cleaning person of many, many years opted not to follow us to the new abode. Although this was devastating (I have to clean???) I accepted it in stride, deciding that it was less effort to clean myself than to retrain someone to do it my way...And I am willing to allow a little more dust and a few more cobwebs. Also, with fewer people in a bigger house, the dirt spreads out into a thinner layer--less noticeable for a longer period of time. So, the cleaning lady who drank all the windex (a story for another day) abandoned us, and we were on our own. I pointed out to the spouse that it seemed a little unfair that I should take on all this responsibility alone--we both worked, commuted, etc. He agreed to have a job....A being no fool, I offered up cleaning the toilets--which he gleefully accepted.
He has a tool kit, with multiple chemicals, sprays, brushes, and devices. He also has an assortment of septic friendly stay clean additives that you place in the tank to extend the time between cleanings. The cleaning lady who drank Windex would have thought she was in cleaning Disneyland with all this stuff!! Yet, the bowls do not sparkle at my house like they do on the TV commercials. All four (yes four) get his attention only after I have proclaimed that unless he "gets around" to cleaning the toilets, I am going to ......(choose a relevant threat here)....So, despite my best efforts, the teaching of his mother (I saw her toilets, and she did have clean ones!) the executive vice president of toilet cleanliness in my household must be using the public men's room standard to prompt him for the proper time to haul out his equipment and give them a once over. If this is some type of male trait, it probably explains a lot of divorces....
For one thing, why is it that male restrooms are ALWAYS more dirty, smelly, and "trashed" than women's? Now, some would wonder how I became an expert on male bathrooms (I am myself female) and it has a lot to do with my job---which I have vowed not to talk about in my blog---so lets just say that I have the opportunity to legitimately visit multiple male (and female) restrooms all over my state in the course of my work....And universally, the male facility is not as clean as the (usually paired) women's restroom.
Males seem to be flush adverse--regardless of where I am. It is some primal, "hunter" man thing? It is a marking thing? Are they just lazy? Do they need to leave evidence behind--threatening to the next competitive male toilet/urinal user? Are they just gross? Haven't answered the "why" on this one, but I can assure you that I occasionally find a lack of flushing in the women's room, but I routinely find a lack of flushing in the men's room. If a women created those auto flusher things (don't know who did, but my guess is that women are more likely than men to care about such things!)my guess is that she had a job like mine!
Which explains (I guess) the smell--sort of.
I also suspect that regardless of the flushing habits of natives in a particular location, the odor is also "enhanced" by the attitude(s) of the persons who have responsibility for cleaning the bathrooms. I suspect that there is a direct correlation between the adversion to flushing and the attitude of the person cleaning the facility. Less flushing = less enthusiasm for cleaning---or maybe the smells just hurry them along. Regardless, my "research" so far is that even if there is no immediate evidence of flushing adversion, the male bathroom will be less "clean" and smell worse than the female facility in the same location.
That being said, sometimes women can be messy. Especially if appropriately sized containers are not provided for the things they wish to dispose of...Or if those containers are full. Paper products will end up on the floor in those cases--in the vicinity of the containers...... Not so in the men's room. Their disposed of "stuff"--which often is much more than hand towels, is likely to be any and everywhere--newspaper, toilet paper, even food wrappers (I wonder why--ick!) and today, I actually happened upon a discarded 1/2 sandwich (so gross) in the middle of the bathroom floor. What is it that those men are doing in those smelly, dirty bathrooms? Surely one cannot want to spend time in there reading stuff (ohhhhhh, the smell) or (here is where I gag...) eat food in there. I guess maybe women have a purse to stuff all that into---but men just drop it wherever they are done with it???? Better explanation than actually contemplating the alternatives.
Now, most men and boys I know share a home with someone (or more than one) female. I am not sure of the exact ratio of people to bathrooms in the average household, but again based on my experience, if there are both genders in a household, I am pretty sure that at times they use the same bathroom...None of my friends have bathrooms in their homes designated "male" "female". Also, none of my friends or even acquaintances have bathrooms that approach the conditions (even on their worst day) of most "public" restrooms.
So, the Why is also that if these men/boys can somehow manage to share a bathroom with the females in their household without creating the same conditions that exist in "men's" rooms, is it tied to exclusivity? Just for males---smelly and gross--shared with females....Better behave...Be neat...Clean up....At least somewhat (hey, I have lived with 3 males in my house)
So that brings me to today's final why--related to all this pondering...
when we moved into our house in the woods three years ago, our cleaning person of many, many years opted not to follow us to the new abode. Although this was devastating (I have to clean???) I accepted it in stride, deciding that it was less effort to clean myself than to retrain someone to do it my way...And I am willing to allow a little more dust and a few more cobwebs. Also, with fewer people in a bigger house, the dirt spreads out into a thinner layer--less noticeable for a longer period of time. So, the cleaning lady who drank all the windex (a story for another day) abandoned us, and we were on our own. I pointed out to the spouse that it seemed a little unfair that I should take on all this responsibility alone--we both worked, commuted, etc. He agreed to have a job....A being no fool, I offered up cleaning the toilets--which he gleefully accepted.
He has a tool kit, with multiple chemicals, sprays, brushes, and devices. He also has an assortment of septic friendly stay clean additives that you place in the tank to extend the time between cleanings. The cleaning lady who drank Windex would have thought she was in cleaning Disneyland with all this stuff!! Yet, the bowls do not sparkle at my house like they do on the TV commercials. All four (yes four) get his attention only after I have proclaimed that unless he "gets around" to cleaning the toilets, I am going to ......(choose a relevant threat here)....So, despite my best efforts, the teaching of his mother (I saw her toilets, and she did have clean ones!) the executive vice president of toilet cleanliness in my household must be using the public men's room standard to prompt him for the proper time to haul out his equipment and give them a once over. If this is some type of male trait, it probably explains a lot of divorces....
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Mold and other annoyances
Lately, I have had multiple occasions in which I stay in a hotel/motel/bed and breakfast. The bed and breakfasts are usually quaint, unique, and personal. They "air" out the rooms and purchase Tilex if they need it. I like Bed and breakfasts, although sometimes it is a little weird depending on who else is there!
My annoyance is with hotel/motels. Now I am not talking about "Dan's Paradise Palace" or other such "interesting" places. I am talking about branded chains that you see commercials for on TV and in magazines. Many are to lodging what McDonald's is to fast food--nationwide, and supposedly standardized.
Problem is that despite all their attention to wall paper and textiles--they seem to never buy any Tilex. Almost every establishment that I have stayed in in the last 2 months could have used a little help with the mold in their showers! How hard is that? Chlorine Bleach works fine--but in case that is prohibited by OSHA, there must be products that will kill the mold just like the Tilex that I keep around and actually use two or three times a year! Even with that minimal application, I have no visible black mold lurking in my shower/tub!
I don't understand it! I once had four teenagers living in my house---and often 8 to 10 showers a day! We still did not get moldy build up like most of the lodging rooms I am assigned! How many showers do the people who rent motel rooms take anyway? They aren't really big enough for more than 4 or 5 people. Each person would have to take more than two a day to approach what my kids did as teens, and yet I did not have nearly the mold/mildew problem in the bathroom that the establishments have.
I just don't get it. They have these fans that are automatic--I had kids who would "forget" to turn them on! They have cleaning crews--I had four teenagers--who would sooner die than clean anything. I attribute the difference to infrequent but effective use of Tilex.
I am going to start packing Tilex in my suitcase...Wonder if they make a travel size? I am allergic to molds--so it is not just a matter of aesthetics with the mold problem in hotels/motels for me. You would think that for what they charge, the Tilex should be included along with the little soaps and shampoos.
Could it be that the people who own and manage these guest properties never actually stay there? Or maybe they have a side line culturing black mold for some type of lucrative market???? Or am I the only person on earth who notices that they have black mold creeping around the edges of their tiles and tub? Lately, it has been obvious I am the only one who seems to care....
My annoyance is with hotel/motels. Now I am not talking about "Dan's Paradise Palace" or other such "interesting" places. I am talking about branded chains that you see commercials for on TV and in magazines. Many are to lodging what McDonald's is to fast food--nationwide, and supposedly standardized.
Problem is that despite all their attention to wall paper and textiles--they seem to never buy any Tilex. Almost every establishment that I have stayed in in the last 2 months could have used a little help with the mold in their showers! How hard is that? Chlorine Bleach works fine--but in case that is prohibited by OSHA, there must be products that will kill the mold just like the Tilex that I keep around and actually use two or three times a year! Even with that minimal application, I have no visible black mold lurking in my shower/tub!
I don't understand it! I once had four teenagers living in my house---and often 8 to 10 showers a day! We still did not get moldy build up like most of the lodging rooms I am assigned! How many showers do the people who rent motel rooms take anyway? They aren't really big enough for more than 4 or 5 people. Each person would have to take more than two a day to approach what my kids did as teens, and yet I did not have nearly the mold/mildew problem in the bathroom that the establishments have.
I just don't get it. They have these fans that are automatic--I had kids who would "forget" to turn them on! They have cleaning crews--I had four teenagers--who would sooner die than clean anything. I attribute the difference to infrequent but effective use of Tilex.
I am going to start packing Tilex in my suitcase...Wonder if they make a travel size? I am allergic to molds--so it is not just a matter of aesthetics with the mold problem in hotels/motels for me. You would think that for what they charge, the Tilex should be included along with the little soaps and shampoos.
Could it be that the people who own and manage these guest properties never actually stay there? Or maybe they have a side line culturing black mold for some type of lucrative market???? Or am I the only person on earth who notices that they have black mold creeping around the edges of their tiles and tub? Lately, it has been obvious I am the only one who seems to care....
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Where does the time go?
So it has been about a month of non-blogging now. Just got too darn busy with "stuff". Still have the 75 daffodil bulbs to plant, and baring a monsoon tomorrow, it is first on the list.
Have been traveling extensively for the job--and need a mental health day and a few nights in my own bed. Also need to spend some time getting my garden beds ready for the fall.
Did acquire an interesting totempole from a dear friend....very long story. He is on extended loan, and I will care for him until??????? Perhaps the repainting (colors and paints supplied by the dear friend) will also begin tomorrow. Think I may even figure out how to post a picture, so I can share the new "Chief Passow" with you bloggers.
Sock knitting continues...boy, it my life boring, or what?
Have been traveling extensively for the job--and need a mental health day and a few nights in my own bed. Also need to spend some time getting my garden beds ready for the fall.
Did acquire an interesting totempole from a dear friend....very long story. He is on extended loan, and I will care for him until??????? Perhaps the repainting (colors and paints supplied by the dear friend) will also begin tomorrow. Think I may even figure out how to post a picture, so I can share the new "Chief Passow" with you bloggers.
Sock knitting continues...boy, it my life boring, or what?
Friday, September 16, 2005
25 down, 75 to go
I succumbed to the bargain bag of daffodil bulbs...100 more bulbs to plant after I just finished planting all the bulbs I bought.
I have 25% planted. It wasn't that awful. It is something to look forward to next spring. I am naturalizing! Daffodils along the edge of the woods.
Usually I wait until it is cold, and threatening snow--so I guess I am ahead of the game this year! So, bring on the hot chocolate....I am 25% ready for fall!
I have 25% planted. It wasn't that awful. It is something to look forward to next spring. I am naturalizing! Daffodils along the edge of the woods.
Usually I wait until it is cold, and threatening snow--so I guess I am ahead of the game this year! So, bring on the hot chocolate....I am 25% ready for fall!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
When the house is not your home anymore
This week I had occasion to be working in the "neighborhood" of the home we sold just over two years ago. I drove past on my lunch hour. I wish now that I hadn't.
The beautiful trees that shaded our yard are gone--victims of emerald ash borers--piles of sawdust dotted the lawn from the stump grinders. The grass was completely burned out. The flowers that I had tended so lovingly were thirsty, dead, or not in evidence. Weeds popped out here and there. Obviously these buyers were not at all interested in the outside appearance of their yard.
The house itself looked pretty much the same, but what can you do to a brick home?
The houses on either side had continued to decline. There was a reason we moved--more obvious now than when I was there every day. My comments to the homeowners association have gone unheeded--the feedback from our realtors about the neighbors was not favorable while we were trying to sell.
The house was just another sadly neglected home, looking more so due to the TLC of other homes. It was not our home anymore. We are very much "at home" where we now are. I cannot imagine living there again--even if the houses on either side were being maintained to the neighbor hood standard, they are much too close. It seems small and crowed there now--not because it is, but because my definition of "space" has changed.
It was a house in which we lived. We enjoyed our time there. It met our needs. It is not ours anymore, nor is it of any interest. I sort of feel bad about that, as the house and the land were friends of mine. I felt slightly guilty about digging up starts of my perennials when we were moving--which have done well here by the way. I should have just dug the whole thing up--and not wasted time with tiny delicate starts. It is obvious that the buyers would not have noticed or cared.
Sorry house. Maybe you will have owners who love you again one day--but it was time for us to move on to another home in need of our touch. You will always have my most beautiful bathroom! (No one would be crazy enough to tear that out, and I am not sure I have the energy to invest again in that type of project!!) It will help you sell next time! Maybe the next ones will take care of you like we did! Hope so, because you were once a good friend of mine.
The beautiful trees that shaded our yard are gone--victims of emerald ash borers--piles of sawdust dotted the lawn from the stump grinders. The grass was completely burned out. The flowers that I had tended so lovingly were thirsty, dead, or not in evidence. Weeds popped out here and there. Obviously these buyers were not at all interested in the outside appearance of their yard.
The house itself looked pretty much the same, but what can you do to a brick home?
The houses on either side had continued to decline. There was a reason we moved--more obvious now than when I was there every day. My comments to the homeowners association have gone unheeded--the feedback from our realtors about the neighbors was not favorable while we were trying to sell.
The house was just another sadly neglected home, looking more so due to the TLC of other homes. It was not our home anymore. We are very much "at home" where we now are. I cannot imagine living there again--even if the houses on either side were being maintained to the neighbor hood standard, they are much too close. It seems small and crowed there now--not because it is, but because my definition of "space" has changed.
It was a house in which we lived. We enjoyed our time there. It met our needs. It is not ours anymore, nor is it of any interest. I sort of feel bad about that, as the house and the land were friends of mine. I felt slightly guilty about digging up starts of my perennials when we were moving--which have done well here by the way. I should have just dug the whole thing up--and not wasted time with tiny delicate starts. It is obvious that the buyers would not have noticed or cared.
Sorry house. Maybe you will have owners who love you again one day--but it was time for us to move on to another home in need of our touch. You will always have my most beautiful bathroom! (No one would be crazy enough to tear that out, and I am not sure I have the energy to invest again in that type of project!!) It will help you sell next time! Maybe the next ones will take care of you like we did! Hope so, because you were once a good friend of mine.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Bulbs
This week I started to create next springs garden. I got a deal on bulbs! I need to choose them carefully, as I can only plant things that the deer don't like. It is bonus if the rabbits also find the plant disgusting, but that rarely happens. Seems however that neither deer nor rabbits are fond of daffodils or grape hyacinths--so each year I have added to my collection. I also bought some more allium, as they leave those alone too--smell like onions, but look kind of neat.
Each (used) house we buy, I wait anxiously for the spring to see what is planted. Don't know why I bother. There is never anything planted! NO bulbs, no hostas, no lilies, no perennials. Just the same shrubs that needed trimming when we bought the house. I am convinced that I am either a flower nut case, or we always buy "fixer uppers"--and people who sell these types of houses are not gardening types.
I have been fighting the battle of the creepy weed(literally) most of the summer. Think it came in with the mulch. It was there last year, but I didn't have time. This spring it got completely out of hand. It is similar to an "air fern"--but has these roots that form a system--so you have to dig it out. I have been digging all summer...Could be in China by now, except that this particular bed is huge! Every week I go out and assault the ugly weed. Now it only takes an hour or so, not an entire day, so I think I maybe making progress after three months, and know that I cannot ignore the ugly weed for even one week! While I have my back turned , the weed is creating something akin to the metro system under the dirt--and pops up down the line.
The dwarfs in Snow White sang that little song "dig, dig, dig, dig, dig the whole day long. I think they must have known about the ugly weed. I just hope that it rests under the snow! I am getting tired of digging.
So about half of the bulbs are planted, and it is only early September. I am feeling smug. Not like the year I bought a hundred bulbs and it rained for months, or the year that I picked out the pretty pictures and mail ordered the collection to "arrive at the optimal time for planting"--a much bigger box than I thought that I had signed up for, requiring many more holes that I wanted to dig in the chilly fall drizzle. I have lived and learned. November is not the best time to plant your bulbs (although the package will lead you to believe that this is possible!)
Tomorrow is supposed to be beautiful too. So, I will plant more bulbs. Then maybe I will stop for the year...Unless I find a real deal on a few hundred jonquil bulbs!
Each (used) house we buy, I wait anxiously for the spring to see what is planted. Don't know why I bother. There is never anything planted! NO bulbs, no hostas, no lilies, no perennials. Just the same shrubs that needed trimming when we bought the house. I am convinced that I am either a flower nut case, or we always buy "fixer uppers"--and people who sell these types of houses are not gardening types.
I have been fighting the battle of the creepy weed(literally) most of the summer. Think it came in with the mulch. It was there last year, but I didn't have time. This spring it got completely out of hand. It is similar to an "air fern"--but has these roots that form a system--so you have to dig it out. I have been digging all summer...Could be in China by now, except that this particular bed is huge! Every week I go out and assault the ugly weed. Now it only takes an hour or so, not an entire day, so I think I maybe making progress after three months, and know that I cannot ignore the ugly weed for even one week! While I have my back turned , the weed is creating something akin to the metro system under the dirt--and pops up down the line.
The dwarfs in Snow White sang that little song "dig, dig, dig, dig, dig the whole day long. I think they must have known about the ugly weed. I just hope that it rests under the snow! I am getting tired of digging.
So about half of the bulbs are planted, and it is only early September. I am feeling smug. Not like the year I bought a hundred bulbs and it rained for months, or the year that I picked out the pretty pictures and mail ordered the collection to "arrive at the optimal time for planting"--a much bigger box than I thought that I had signed up for, requiring many more holes that I wanted to dig in the chilly fall drizzle. I have lived and learned. November is not the best time to plant your bulbs (although the package will lead you to believe that this is possible!)
Tomorrow is supposed to be beautiful too. So, I will plant more bulbs. Then maybe I will stop for the year...Unless I find a real deal on a few hundred jonquil bulbs!
Friday, August 26, 2005
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!
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!
Thursday, August 25, 2005
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!
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!
Saturday, August 20, 2005
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!!!
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
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!
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!
Saturday, August 06, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
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!
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!
Monday, August 01, 2005
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!
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!
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