Rest

If you think you've seen this meme before, you have probably been over at She Who Seeks blog. Debra graciously gave me permission to use it. And I am ecstatic about that as it so succinctly expresses a theme that has been roaming around in my head. 

When I was in college, it was not enough to take a full course load. We were expected to be actively involved in, if not running a full-time ministry as well supporting ourselves with a job. And just to make sure we were well rounded individuals, we needed to have extracurricular hobbies and pursuits.

This preference for over-extendedness carried on into our lives well after we left and seemed to permeate every environment I was in. In my early twenties, I lived in a Mennonite community where women were expected to be seen fully dressed and made up by 7:00 am every morning. We would all meet at the bus stop where we accompanied our children on their way to school, our coffee and tea mugs in hand. Housework was done on a schedule, that did not vary from household to household. To which I thought, "You people are nuts, and seriously need to get a life." I don't think that I ever said that out loud to them. But I had two hyper-active boys to raise, and I cleaned as needed. I never felt the need to be able to eat off my floors. If all this wasn't enough for these women, they were also expected to be active and involved in the community. They must not only be involved in the women's groups from their church but have some sort of community outreach as well. Their children had to be well behaved as they were dragged from activity to activity.

It took me four years to escape from Stepfordville. But my escape landed me in the lap of corporate America, where the real fun began. I have been blessed to work with some amazing people. They were good people. People who wanted to do their best job, no matter if it was at work or parenting their child, but the culture tended toward over extension. Everyone had to be in back-to-back meetings and constantly working on overlapping deadlines. And if you ever had room to breathe, someone would put another project on your desk. If that wasn't enough, there was a committee or two and a community action program to be involved in. And of course, all of this was to be managed with a work-life balance that included raising your otherwise latch-key kids and running them from soccer to ballet to piano practice, and chaperoning school fieldtrips on the side.

And then my kids all graduated from high school, the moved out and went on with their lives. And I looked around and thought, "What good did all of that do any of us?" Who actually benefited from all the pressure to overperform? And one day in a meeting with an overbearing supervisor, a door in my head slammed shut, and I just quit. I had had enough of it. 

In my mind, my retirement years were my chance to re-introduce myself to that happy creative child that I was forced to abandon when I picked up my pencil box and headed off to school so many years ago. I thought that she would finally be allowed to thrive in the world of needles and yarn and color that I wished to knit. I have my small pension, my social security. I can pay rent and my bills. So I wanted to get out my yarn, and my paints and create a world of color. I wanted to get on a train and travel to see the things I was always too busy to see. I wanted to take up an easy instrument and learn to play it, even though I knew I would never be any good at it. 

What I have learned is that my lack of ambition to "be a productive member of society" has put me at crosshairs with people who can't yet, or maybe, never will be able to do that. I have been told outright that I am lazy. I have been made to feel guilty for taking an afternoon nap, even when there is nothing else pressing that I need to do. I have had many awkward moments when people ask, "So what do you do with your time?" and the answer is, "Whatever I want to do." And the assumption is always; you must be as productive in your retirement as you were in your work life. After all, didn't Ada Lovelace create computer programs in her 80's and Joe Biden lead the country out of a pandemic in his 70's? Shouldn't you be at work?

I have to ask, when is enough, enough? Why is clean enough not good enough. or busy not busy enough? Why, when there really is no benefit, must everyone over-extend themselves into exhaustion? 

So, my inner child is here to play with color, and music, and travel and the written word. And nothing will come of it. But I will live out the few years that I have remaining happily and radically resting in the activities that I choose. And I will die having lived a life that someone else will consider a waste. But the truth is that it is the exceptional person that makes a difference, and most of them chose to do what they made a difference at. 

Find yourself and be at peace with that.

Rainy Day

Another rainy day here. I chuckle to myself, Seattle had nothing on this. It rains all the time here, at least two or three days a week. The picture doesn't show it much, but it is the steady downpour kind of rain. And it has been going on for the better part of two hours. 

I am sitting on the veranda enjoying the day. I like it out here. I was afraid the summer heat would exclude me from my favorite perch. But the temperatures so far haven't been all that bad. It is usually in the low to mid 80's and there is always a nice breeze. The worst is that I sometimes have to move back near the building because the rain blows in from the sides. If I didn't have my electronics out here, I wouldn't mind. 

This is a good place to be out in nature. I have been enjoying the companionship of a host of birds. There are whippoorwills, cardinals, sparrows, robins, and finches that I see regularly. I know there is a mockingbird somewhere, because I hear him all the time. We are near a state park and a wildlife sanctuary. I see the great raptors circling in the evening. I am told that there are eagles there, but I don't think I'd be able to identify them in flight. I think the ones I see are hawks. This guy, who I think is one of the whippoorwills, regularly hangs out with me. When I am sitting on my veranda perch, he is perched in the tree across the parking lot. I wonder if he thinks I am as strange as I think he is awesome. I wonder if he is watching me. Maybe he is just looking for an afternoon snack.

But alas, the rain has stopped, and the breeze is gone. It is now too hot and muggy to continue enjoying my sanctuary. I will end this for now and go inside. I have chores that need to be done, dishes to wash and floors to sweep. Maybe I will reward myself with a bowl of ice cream and a cookie or two when I am done.

Not a bad day for a Thursday.

 

A "Regular" Day

Tim and Jack were supposed to go see "The Ritual" at the movies late last night. But Jack had spent the day swimming at a friend's pool and was too tired to go. It wasn't a movie that I really wanted to watch, but Tim had already bought the tickets, and who wants to go to the movies alone. I went with him. We were the only two people in the theater. And the movie was intense. I could have screamed if I had been so inclined.

The movie is about the most well documented exorcism in America, and was the basis for many horror stories, including the 70's movie, "The Exorcist". Without spinning heads and projectile vomiting, I didn't find it as disturbing as The Exorcist, but it had its moments. I spent a lot of time looking into the tub of popcorn. The things we do for our children...

It was nearing one in the morning when we got home. Jack had gotten up while we were gone and finished the pan of lasagna and the loaf of bread that I had made the day before. Just as well on the bread, because it was going stale. But it meant that if I didn't set a new batch to rising. Bread is a lot of time letting it rise and bake, but very little actual work. I spent about 20 minutes mixing the dough. I blame forgetting to put salt in the mix on it being past 1:00 am when I mixed it. It rose while I slept, and I woke the house up with the aroma of fresh baked bread this morning. Unfortunately, it smelled better than it tastes. Tim and Jack have dutifully eaten a few slices just to make me feel better about my mistake. This loaf may just become bread pudding.

Tim and I spent the afternoon taking the things I brought from Tuscumbia to storage. Then we visited a clearance store. It is the kind of store that if I hadn't just dropped off clutter in a storage unit, I would be inclined to purchase a lot more clutter at very good prices. As it was, I only purchased a birthday present for my soon to be new grandson. He will be turning 15 in a few weeks. After that we went to the farmers market where I bought some pickled cucumbers, okra and asparagus and some pecans. I will go back soon to get some fruit to make jams and jellies to give away for Christmas gifts. Then we went to a comic book store where Tim bought gifts for the same kid, his soon to be stepson. The store is owned by a woman that he used to work with. 

I was tired when we got home, so I used my retired person prerogative and took a long nap. When I woke up, the bread failure from the night before was disturbing my hygge. I made up for it by baking a batch of cookies. Neither Tim or Jack have touched the cookies, I guess they are wary of it after the bread fiasco. You know, "Nana's not quite as sharp as she used to be..."

Family Update

We made the trek back up to Tuscumbia yesterday. When I was digging through my boxes to find some of the things I need, I found that I had inadvertently taken the box that had my sister's stereo and some of her albums in it. It was kind of an "Oh isht" moment for me as she has been throwing such a fit over artwork that she cares little about. I immediately contacted my brother and made arrangements to return it. The upside was that she had a few things to return to me, my tool kit being among them. I was surprised that she also gave me things that I considered hers. We purchased a strawberry cookie jar that was a replica of one that we grew up with in my grandmother's house. She included that in the boxes, and also, a very nice hand thrown bowl that we had used for baking. But the most surprising thing to me was she gave me her sewing machine. She doesn't sew, and I used to quite a lot. I had even been thinking about purchasing a machine for myself. But here, we don't really have room for it. That will be changing in a year, so the machine feels like a real boon for me. I hope it is an olive branch.

The trip was good, though we started out in some heavy rain. Tim talked with me about some changes he wants to make in his job situation, and they seem good to me. He wants to work a 7 days on/7 days off schedule at the job he holds in Atlanta and quit the job he has been doing locally. He hates the local job but was keeping it because it had him closer to home most of the time. He says now that I am here if something goes wrong at home, he feels the freedom to move forward with it. The change will have him working about 15 less hours a week and gaining a respectable amount in income. Jack is self-sufficient. He is old enough and can handle most things by himself. But there is a taboo about leaving your kid home alone. Being a divorced single father, Tim doesn't want to give any rocks for anyone to throw at his glass house. I suppose that makes me the token adult. But really, I don't mind if it helps. This new schedule will also be more amenable to the continuing ed courses he wants to take in the fall. Those classes will allow him to advance into the career path he hopes to follow. I asked him what the cons were to quit the local job. He said there were none. I say it is time to go for it.

While we were traveling Mollie texted the family chat. She was offered an opportunity to interview for the job she has been filling in her clinical practices. She wanted our support; of course she had it. The interview was this morning, and she got the job. There really was no doubt that she would. In that situation, they already know her and her work. If they weren't going to offer her the job, they wouldn't have asked her to interview. She will be working an extra eight hours a week until she finishes her program and passes the boards. But rather than it being an unpaid internship, she will draw a salary that she is very pleased with. This will allow her to stop her waitressing job that she took after the economy opened back up post-covid. But she says that she will continue with it through their busy summer season. I am proud of her for that. The owners of the restaurant have been nothing but good to her. They even supplied the rehearsal meal for her wedding. I'm glad she has people like that in her life.

To round up the comforting conversations with my children, Matt joined in and told us of his plans to spend some time in Arizona this summer going to festivals with his new companion. He speaks in code a lot, but I'm hoping this was his way of telling the family that he isn't involved in any of the garbage the 🟠💩 has going on in Los Angeles, or anywhere else for that matter. He spent last summer in the middle east, and he seemed fed up with it all when he got home. Maybe it was just a segway to introducing us to his new companion. He hasn't told us much about her. I can only hope that she will be good for him. I don't want to be THAT mother, but I would really like to see him in a committed relationship. I remind myself often that it does no good to meddle or nag. But I really do want him to be happy. So, God, if you are listening...

The Hygge of Doing

When I think of Hygge, I often picture winter-cuddling up in a warm blanket by the fireplace sipping a cup of hot chocolate. But as the seasons shift, so does the way we seek comfort. Hygge doesn't disappear with the warmth: it simply takes a different form.

I started my day as usual, baking a fresh loaf of bread. I had hoped to bake muffins the night before to have ready for breakfast. But alas, the half gallon of milk we had in the refrigerator had been there far too long. It had spoiled far beyond usage. Jack, in his typical teenaged mentality dealt with it by placing it beside the rather full trash bin. It was the early morning hours, so I didn't fret much over it. But night turned into morning, and then afternoon and then evening, With the milk long past its usefulness and the trash bin refusing to empty itself, my sense of cozy order began to itch. A short trip outside was exactly what I needed to reset the space, clear the air and bring back my sense of comfort.  And besides all that, I needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and walk around a bit. 

The day was a warm one, we were still out of milk and popcorn. Tomorrow is Father's Day, I hadn't gotten anything for my son, and wouldn't it be nice to have some ice cream? I told Tim that I was going to make a trip to the Dollar General to get the milk. He must have been reading my mind, because his response was "can you pick up some ice cream?" 

Summer's version of hygge isn't about candles and blankets; it's found in the crisp relief of cold treats, the quiet satisfaction of a stocked pantry, and small moments of synchronicity-like Tim and I, perfectly aligned in our craving for ice cream. 

And the fresh bread barely got touched today. Summers in the south are just too warm to desire heavy foods. Maybe it's time for the sourdough starter to find its hygge in the refrigerator.

Hygge

I've been thinking about the idea of hygge a lot lately. A few years ago, there was a YouTube influencer who lived in Sweden who dedicated her entire channel to the idea. Mostly she talked of lighting candles and cutting fresh flowers or having homemade treats on hand to make her home more inviting to others. But I have been thinking of it in terms of the people who live here.

My hygge likes clean cotton sheets to sleep on. That is why getting the courage to buy new sheets to replace the polyester ones my son had on my bed made me so happy. It likes fresh homemade bread and cookies. And of course, a nice cup of tea sweetened with honey and some fresh cut flowers do not hurt. But fresh cut flowers don't really go with the Lord of the Rings bachelor's pad feel of this place. My hygge will just have to make do with the tea and fresh bread.

My grandson's hygge likes to have the freedom to choose what he wants to eat, and when he wants to sleep. It's summer, and he doesn't have a job until the camp he will be counseling at opens in a few weeks. He might as well enjoy it while he can. School starts back in early August. The freedom will be gone before he can blink an eye.

My son's hygge likes a clean enough house and inhabitants who get along with each other. He says that a spotless home makes him feel like he's in a museum and he can't relax. But nobody likes dishes in the sink and an icky bathroom. Clean enough is good enough.

All of our hygges are technology hounds, Tim and Jack more than me. But I want electronics that do what I want to do without frustrating me. Tim has enlightened me to the uses of ChatGPT, but I couldn't load it onto my tablet. It is too old for the technology. And forget putting it on the old laptop. That thing couldn't handle Paint. But I got my new laptop today and it comes loaded with Copilot. And I have spent the whole evening playing around with it. I think it's going to be an interesting tool to learn.

Finally

My good computer succumbed to the blue screen of death about three years ago. Since then, I have been trying to limp by with this pathetic Acer Chromebook that barely has enough memory to load the start menu and an aging iPad. The Acer won't load Windows 11, and the iPad won't load IOS 16. I am at the point of no return with both of them. And both devices are geriatric, being around nine or ten years old.

Not that I really need much from a tablet or a computer. But I would like something that I could continue to blog on and will load YouTube, or Netflix. More and more I try to load a program or download an app, and I'm hit with a message that the platform isn't supported. 

Today I finally jumped. I bought myself an inexpensive HP with 16gb of ram and 256gb of memory, and comes loaded with Windows 11. I also get a free year of Office 365 and Aa 64gb SD card with it. I won't be doing any gaming on this thing, but I wouldn't be on a better computer either. I've given up on the lofty aspiration of becoming a YouTube influencer, so I won't be needing a high-powered editing suite. My goals are much simpler than all that. I just want something where I don't spend hours waiting for a program to open. I want the time I spend writing a blog post, or a grocery list to be measured in minutes and hours, not days. 

And yet even as I write this is the fear that I am expecting way too much of this humble machine and am setting myself up for disappointment. Time will tell, It arrives on Saturday. I have the week to dream of frustration free computing. Hopefully for a few years, until the computing gods decide I must once again upgrade my devices.

 

A Whole Lot of Baking Going On

I spent the week baking. It gives me a happy place to work out my raw emotions. Kneading bread can be very therapeutic, and it makes my son and grandson happy too.

I was able to get most of my things out of the pod. It seems that the only things my brother and sister were able to unload before I got there were a couple things my sister thinks will bother me.

I think I was right about my suspicion that Karen wanted us to unpack the pod for her. But even if I, or my son were inclined to be so generous, we really didn't have the time. 

I rented a van for a full day but needed to have it back at the facility by 7:00 pm.  Jack wanted to go with us and tried to force it by ignoring the time and missing the school bus. We had to take him to school before we picked up the van. Still, we were there before 8:00 am and were on the road before 8:30. The trip to Tuscumbia takes ~4 hours. We spent a little more than two hours unloading my things into the van and then had another 4+ hour trip home in building rush hour traffic through Birmingham and Montgomery. We arrived with just enough time to unpack everything into my storage unit and turn the van back in. We finished at 7:02 pm. 

I texted my brother when were about an hour out away from Tuscumbia and he was there waiting for us when we arrived. The house is on a large property and the driveway is very long. U-Haul in their lack of customer service had placed the pod a long way from the house. It was at least a full city block away, if not more. I do feel for my brother and sister, but you know...Karma is a cruel bitch. They had chided me for my efforts to try to convince the U-Haul driver to place the pod in a more convenient manner in Washington. They claimed that it was my fault the driver wasn't more accommodating. Now they were living with their inability to get them to behave in a more customer centric way. Still, it was April 28, and the pod had to be unpacked by May 1st, and none of it was done. I had to move their things before we could get to mine. We in the least, placed their things in a way to make it easier for them to move, if they did that. I am not sure, and I don't want to ask. I gave my brother the keys and a few other things I felt were best suited to staying with them. But I did not look for the artwork. I would probably have had to open every box to find it. I told Ken that I would send it when I unpacked it, and he seemed grateful for that. It made me wonder if Karen has been turning her abuse toward him. He asked us to come into the house, but I refused. I told him it was because of the time crunch we were under, but in reality it had more to do with wanting to avoid contact with Karen. He looked frail and depressed, and I was sad to leave him. But...there are too many reasons. I can only shake my head and fight off the guilt that I feel.

So now I am baking away my sadness, and my misplaced guilt. My grandson is happy to have the fruits of my labor. And my son's happiest childhood memories are around me baking. Neither of them is complaining about how I choose to cope, so I will continue as long as it makes me feel better.

I have also begun to knit again. I came up with an idea tonight to create a Blue Dot hat for all the blue dots around the country. I will write up the pattern and offer it for free on Ravelry. It won't catch on like the 🟠💩's red cap of shame, or the pussy hats of 2016, but wouldn't it be something if people really started wearing it. I'm thinking a blue stocking hat with the words "Liberty or Death" on it. or maybe "No Kings!" or "Hands Off". It will give me something to think about. I have already ordered the yarn to work on it. What do you think?

The Pod Arrived

 My brother messaged me on Thursday that the pod has arrived. I'm sure they are very pleased to see it. I know that I am. I will be able to get my things and put this chapter behind me. I thanked him and spoke to my son about when we can pick them up. He said Monday, so I asked Ken if the day would work for him and Karen and he agreed and even said that it will be good to see me. Hoping for a good outcome, I reserved a UHaul van.

I had been hoping for a good outcome to a bad beginning, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Yesterday, out of the blue I got a text from my sister... Now I feel disheartened. Once again, my stomach is in a acidy knot. Every time I texted or talked with Ken, I mentioned the key that I needed to return to Karen. The text is nothing more than a cheap shot. And the artwork, it was in my room after she dumped it all on my desk while I was travelling. I honestly only have a sorta, kinda idea about which box it is in and now I'm not sticking around to unpack my boxes to look for it while I'm there. I will be grabbing my things as quickly as I can from the pod and leaving as fast as I can. 

To make things worse, she texted the date the pod will be picked up, knowing that we plan to be there on Monday. I was left with the impression that she expects us to empty the pod for her. I really don't want to spend that much time there. If that is the case, my peace-maker son will probably want to oblige, and I'm not feeling that charitable. I want to have a talk with him about it before hand, but I don't want to be the problem here.

I'm glad my son will be there. 

Insomnia

It is 3:19 AM and I am awake. My insomnia is full force lately. I went to bed tired, but my Fitbit tells me that I have only gotten three hours and ten minutes of sleep: none of it deep, none of it REM. It is too warm in my bedroom and my arthritis pain is fairly moderate. I can take ibuprofen, but do I dare take more melatonin? Will that have me sleeping until noon?

I have been here for a full month. While I am no longer in the fight or flight mode, (I think I did both) I still feel adrift. This does not feel like my home. I have the urge to ask permission before I make the slightest change. But I don't dare ask permission because it is making my son crazy. He wants me to feel at home, for this to be my home too. So, I make the changes that I must have and hope that I am not stepping on toes. But this does not feel like my home.

Yesterday morning I woke up at nine. I showered and decided that I really needed to have a place for my puff to hang. So, I found a hook in my knitting supplies and hung it from the rack that hangs from the shower head. There were only two hooks built into it: one for Tim, one for Jack. My puff is teal and the colors in the bathroom are navy and grey. I will find a new puff in the proper colors the next time I go to a store. 

After the changes I made in the bathroom, I stripped the beds and washed the bed covers. They have not been washed since I got here. This is a bachelor's pad: men do not seem to care about those things. But, you know, bacteria and smells...When I remade the beds, I used my travel blanket on my bed. The coverlet that was there is a winter blanket and is too warm. Maybe it was one of the things that have been disturbing my sleep. The room is decorated in black and grey, as is the rest of the house. My travel blanket is a cotton summer quilt and is white with grey roses, not too much of a disruption...I hope. Tim calls it my room. I hope it won't upset him. He doesn't seem to get upset over much. While making the bed, I noticed that the sheets are polyester. I'm kind of a sheet snob. Polyester does not wick moisture, and the bed is too warm. I wake up in a pool of sweat every morning. I ordered new cotton percale sheets. I got them in grey, but it's another change I worry will step on toes. Guests do not wash the bedding or buy new sheets, and I still feel like a guest here. This is not how Tim wants me to feel, so I do what I need and hope it will be fine.

I cleaned the kitchen and living room and noticed that the AC blows hard from the vents in both rooms. That led me to check out the vent in my room. It was closed; I assume it is the same in the other bedrooms. I took the broom and opened mine with the handle, only a little. Somehow, I doubt that Tim ever even looks at them. But I can't sleep when I am too warm, and my bedroom has been too warm, even with the fan running. Those toes again...

Tim found an advanced emergency medicine course for paramedics that he'd like to take. It will have him spending three days a week in Florida through Christmas. He asked me if I would mind being left here with Jack while he does it. Jack is fairly self-sufficient, and of the age that leaving him alone would not be a problem legally. But he is a teen, and it is a better idea for an adult to be present. The opportunity is the sort of thing that his ex-wife would freak out over. He has walked away from a lot of career development to appease her. I have nowhere else to be so, I will be here at least through Christmas. I guess he's worried about stepping on toes too. 

I'm getting tired again now. Maybe I can get back to sleep. Hopefully I won't sleep until noon. I should get the broom and open that vent a little more.

Twenty-One Years and Counting

 My survivorship is now a legal adult. Wow. I kind of never thought this day would come. 

I did nothing to celebrate. What could I have done, gone out for pink iced cup-cakes and pink champaign? I had a quiet day at home, did a couple of loads of clothes. 

But 21 years, DAMN!

If I survive the 🟠💩, I will do something to celebrate in four more years. Maybe a cruise or something big like that.

There Was Some Splanin' to Do

Apparently one very sound reason for a single parent to give their teen an iPhone is that Apple allows that parent to track said teen. Tim knew where Jack was on the night of the storm and the next day when he decided to not show up for school. He and Jack went out to have a man-to-man over some bubble tea and pepper poppers. I'm not sure how that went down, but Jack has not left the apartment since Tim brought him home. I assume that it has been handled. It would have been of great value to me if that technology was available when I was a single mom of teenage boys. I'm very happy that it is available to Tim.

Speaking of useful technology, I am on the patio awaiting a grocery order to arrive. I know this is a luxury, but it beats having to lug groceries up two flights of stairs. I try not to feel spoiled and entitled by reminding myself that my grandmother had her groceries delivered on a regular basis. The downside is that the avocados I ordered came green and hard as a rock, and they keep substituting my lemon seltzer water for strange flavors like strawberry lime. But overall, I am pleased with the service and don't mind paying a small fee to enjoy it. Besides, it keeps me from having to drive here, and these folks are some crazy drivers. 

UPDATE:

My groceries came, but I also got someone else's groceries to boot. I called the store to report the mistake, but they told me that they couldn't retrieve them after they'd been delivered. So, we have been blessed with someone's dinner: steak and hamburgers and salad...What a boon.

Storms

The apartment office asked everyone in our building to prepare for the exterminators to visit yesterday. Apparently, there was an infestation of bugs in some of the apartments. It involved taking everything out of the cupboards in both the kitchen and bathrooms. It was a major lot of work. It felt like moving again. But we did it. It was rather fascinating to watch the exterminators work. They came in with spray and foam and a contraption that looked like a small vacuum cleaner which they vacuumed up any vermin they saw trying to escape. I had to force myself to not laugh and break out in a chorus of the Ghost Busters theme song the entire time they were in our apartment. 

The exterminators were only in our apartment for 20 minutes or so, but it was a long day of work the day before for us. After they left, I began the rather frustrating task of trying to replace everything back into the cabinets it all came out of. Tim went off to work. When Jack came home from school, like the teenager he is, he went right to bed and slept until late in the evening and then on arising, immediately started playing video games with his friends. Around 11:30, I was exhausted, achy, and smelled a bit like a goat.  I made myself a smoothie and went to the bedroom to get ready for a shower and bedtime. 

I had just used the last of my smoothie to swallow some Benadryl and Ibuprofen, when I heard Jack go into the bathroom. I thought I might be in trouble when I heard the shower running. The kid takes marathon showers, so I knew that I was in trouble. I'd be fighting sleep before he was finished. While all of this was going on, a storm had started. and it was a doozy. I went out to the breezeway to find that it had blown the patio furniture up against another apartment and the rain was blowing sideways, as were the trees. Not long after that, the power began to blink on and off. That must have rushed Jack out of the shower, because a few minutes later when the power went out, he came out of the bathroom fully dressed. We used the flashlights on our phones to find a few candles. But the Benadryl had done it's magic on me and I was fighting sleep. With no power, I was in a bind because my CPAP doesn't work when the power is out. It impressed on me the need to get a power station. As much as I know that I must reign in my retail therapy, I will be purchasing one as soon as I get paid again in a week. 

Just short of 1:00 am, I finally had to give in. I tried sleeping in a mostly sitting up position, and it must have been effective. When the power came back on at 4:30 I didn't have the expected sore throat from having snored like a foghorn all night. And the sleep report generated by my Fitbit showed that I had not woken up the umpteen dozen times that I would have expected. Still, sleep apnea is a dangerous condition that I will continue to treat with my CPAP. 

I found an even more dangerous thing when the power coming back on woke me. I went around the apartment turning off all the lights that were left on, and I did not see Jack anywhere. It's a small apartment, there aren't that many places he could be. I checked on the patio, and the furniture had been placed back where it goes, but there was no Jack to be found. I thought about calling Tim but decided that I will give Jack a chance to come clean himself. When he gets home from school, I will confront him and let him know that wandering around after curfew isn't wise. Mostly he is a good kid. But he is a teenager. Nothing he has done so far comes anywhere near what his father did as a teen, and especially nowhere near the shenanigans that I pulled. But I do wonder about all the nights his father was working, and I was sleeping. 

Business

I finally got through the Social Security website to tell the government that I have moved. My banks have been informed. I let Washington state know to stop sending me ballots. The post office has been informed to forward my mail. The retirement company that UPS uses is being difficult, but they don’t send physical mail anyway. I guess it’s official. I moved. 

This morning SSA gave me a wake-up panic attack. I had a message on my phone that there was a message on my account. I was afraid that I was going to be required to visit an office to prove that I exist. They only wanted to tell me that I changed my address. 

I miss the mountain. I miss going around a bend in the road and being hit with the National Geographic level raw beauty of nature. There is beauty here, but it is not on the same level. I was looking for a particular photo last night and it hit me that I've seen some incredible sights. I’m thinking about buying another rail pass in the fall and taking another cross-country trip. The trip from Seattle a few weeks ago exhausted me, but if I plan rest stops on the trip, maybe it won’t be too bad. Maybe this time I will start in Miami and take the train north into Maine. I’d like to see the autumn leaves when they turn. 

I'll have to stop spending so much if I really want to do that. My rent is much cheaper here, but I have been on a spending binge for the past few weeks. I bought new hearing aids and new prescription sunglasses, but I really needed both of those. Then I decided that this last trip that I took has left my shoes looking disreputable. Since every other pair I have is living it's best life packed away on the pod, I ordered a new pair. And I have been planning on replacing my summer wardrobe anyway, so I ordered some new capris and blouses. And since I have been informed that it isn't cool to walk along the golf course paths, I will need a bathing suit. So, I ordered a swim dress...this body has long since seen the day to show off in a bikini. And then, you know that I absolutely need a smoothie blender. I've really been on a binge. I justify it all as actual needs and tell myself to quit feeling guilty because I have already paid my son back the money that he loaned me. But really, this has gotten out of hand. I think that a lot of it has been retail therapy to soothe the uncertainty that I was thrown into. It has got to stop, or at least slow down. My plastic needs a break.

Hands Off

Americans everywhere are beginning to fight back. This is a picture of my hometown. It was uploaded by the guy I used to carpool to work with. When I saw it I began to look through the crowd to see if I could find anyone I knew, and lo and behold it didn't take very long at all. The uplifting thing to me is that some of the people I found I knew to be (former?) Trump supporters. I'm heartened to see that they may have changed their minds. Unfortunately, I did not hear of the protests until after they had occurred, but if I had, I would have been at Toomer's corner with a sign. I am hoping that this is not a one off. It won't work if it is. The George Floyd protests were so very effective simply because they didn't stop. If we hope to make an impression, we are going to have to make a nuisance of ourselves. That is the only way we will get any real attention and be taken seriously.

I was supposed to be going to Tuscumbia today to pick up my things from the pod. This is the second time that I have reserved a truck rental, only to have to cancel because the pod has not arrived. I had texted Ken the morning before to let him know when to expect me. I had just assumed that it had arrived because until that point, I had not heard anything differently. Ken told me then that it still had not arrived. I pressed him for information on when it was expected, and he told me that they were visiting my aunt and Karen would give me a call after they left. She didn't, and as much as it annoyed me, I was somewhat relieved to not have a conversation with her. So, yesterday after I had waited around all day, I finally got a text from Ken. I hope that he is not having to bear the brunt of her anger, but from the tone of his text, I think he is. I can even understand her anger over it. April 24 ia a full month from the time it should have arrived. I can only hope that they are giving her a discount on the service. Not that I expect to see any of it. I'm afraid that the money that I put down on it and the downpayment of house is just lost to me. In the very least I am not there to have to listen to Karen rage about it. My plan now is to make no plan until I hear that the pod has arrived. Then I will work out how I will retrieve my belongings. I do hope that they will arrive at some point and that Ken will let me know to go get them.

It's just as well that I wasn't able to pick up my things today. A tornado touched down in a town near where I am was going to be. The reports so far are that 8 people may have died in the storm. It's really awful.

While the tornado wasn't near the house, it was close enough that the I would have been loading a truck in some pretty nasty weather and the weather here isn't much better. It has thunder stormed all day. I keep getting notices on my phone that the roads around me are closed due to flooding. I'm not that worried for myself. We are on the third floor. The flood would have to be epic to reach where we are. But I do hope that my neighbors are staying dry. 

I do hope the weather will be better when I can finally pick my things up, and maybe not so hot.

Settling In

I've come to accept that at least for the time being I am going to be here. And I have begun to settle in. I'm not so sure that it is the best thing to do, but as I see no other option it will have to do for now. 

I paid my son back the money he sent me to get here, and the small amount that he will accept for rent. He has some financial things that he is trying to accomplish, so I hope that it helps. I certainly don't want to put an obstacle in his way.

The biggest challenge for me right now is keeping busy so my mind doesn't squirrel cage on negative things. I have taken up baking again. I've made a few attempts at getting a sour dough starter to take. So far, I haven't been successful at it, but I can get store bought yeast to take hold and rise. Today I made some shortbread cookies. It's been years since I made cookies for my son and grandson. They aren't as excited about them as they were when they were four years old. But it gave me something to do. And the cookies aren't that bad. 

I have started walking again. But I'm afraid that very soon the southern summer will put a quick end to the habit. I guess I will have to take up swimming when that happens, though I'm not too keen to wear a bathing suit in public. I might have to be one of those early morning swimmers.

On my walk today, I was followed for quite a while by a butterfly. It flew around me while I stopped and pulled out my phone to snap a picture. Then it flew off on it's own after I thanked it for the snapshot. There are lots of birds here, and while I enjoy listening to music while I walk, I often go without it to hear them sing instead. Most of the birds that I saw in Washington were either crows or Steller's Jay. They caw, but I never heard them sing. I have missed the morning and evening symphonies that we get in the south. It's nice to hear them again.

We are living in a golf course community. The course is beautiful and well kept. It has paths for the carts, which I suppose all courses do. This morning I decided that it would be nice to see where the paths ended up. While the course was empty when I started out, I did encounter a few golfers along the way. They seemed surprised to see someone walking there. I do not play golf and thus have never been one to frequent the courses. I do not know the etiquette, other than you do not walk on the greens, which is common sense. So I don't know if I was breaking any social rules. I really hope that they were simply surprised because no one else does it. It would be a great place to walk, and there aren't many other great places here. As for learning the game...It's an expensive hobby and I am left-handed. I'm sure they make clubs for left-handed people, but it was an issue when I was in gym class in high school. And I have had no desire to pursue it since. If you know, please feel free to enlighten me. I really don't want to go around pissing people off just to take a walk.

And Then...

It has been hard. I tried to write this post while I was on the train...but it was all too fresh. I was a total mess. I could barely speak in whole sentences. 

What happened, why I was on the train rather than enjoying a road trip across the country...I still find it hard to speak in complete sentences about. 

We were going to leave on Tuesday morning. I found this out when Karen decided that we would go spend our last night in Washington with our friend Julie. I heard Karen on the phone telling Julie. She would never give me a date. The dates I had were all about when they would deliver and pick up the pod. I wrote about my frustration surrounding the pod in several posts here.

They came to pick up the pod bright and early on Monday, the 17th. Karen was awake to great them. Not everything that she wanted in the pod got packed and placed there. But Karen had a beloved angel trumpet tree that the guy who picked up the pod helped her move in. When she told me this, she was happy. But immediately after, she turned sour and got violent. It happened so fast that it rattled me..

I woke up around 8:30 to help with whatever needed to happen. I knew that Karen had Carley coming over to do more cleaning. Karen told me about the angel trumpet and then started yelling at me that I was the reason her things remained unpacked. After throwing parties, going out with friends and having the girls spend 3 nights with us, she felt she bore no responsibility to see that her things were packed by an extended deadline. I was shocked. And I angrily told her that packing her things was her responsibility. She claimed that after I had packed as much of her things as I could, securing her televisions and carrying a majority of it out to the pod myself, that I had sat on my ass. I was reminding her of all that I had done, and she yelled at me to shut up, but I was not going to be silenced. Then she yelled at me to get out and threw a chair at me. When I looked up from where the chair had landed, I saw her coming at me, fists raised. I picked up the chair she had just thrown at me and chased her into the hall with it. That rattled her and she left for about an hour. 

In the hour that she was gone I reached out to my children. I had no one else to turn too. My son Venmoed  me money and told me to come stay with him. I booked a train and an Uber to take me to the station and was walking out the door when Karen came back with Carley to finish cleaning. 

The look on her face was utter shock when she saw me leaving. She has not reached out to me at all since I left. Ken and I have texted a few times. 

This is not the first time that Karen has gotten abusive to me. I haven't written about them, mostly out of shame. It is part of the reason that I have had trouble writing for the past few years. Nobody wants to be the victim. There is a lot to it, and I am not in a place where I can talk about it. I don't know if that would be a good idea even if I were in a better place for it. I need to talk to a therapist before I can decide that.

The train across the country was long and hard. My mind squirrel caged on what had transpired. I could not stop thinking about it. I arrived at my son's a week ago.  He says that I can stay as long as I need. But this is not an ideal situation. I am crowding them. My son talks of wanting me to stay. I don't yet know what to do. I am still raw and broken. In the course of a few minutes, my home was snatched from me. I don't know how this will work. For now, all I can do is exist. 

There is more I should say. I just can't right now.

Postponed!

Everything hurts. So much so that I don't want to move. And my soul is heavy. I want to weep tears that I am too exhausted to shed. And I am genuinely angry.

Karen and Nora carried on last night as if they were the only two people here, every light on, calling out loudly to each other from different rooms until 3:30 am. And while they were at it, they scattered the items from Karen's bedroom throughout the house. Every couch, every chair, every countertop, every shelf, a majority of the floor space, everything is covered in the debris from her packing. Then Nora went home, and Karen went to bed, leaving the mess behind her. It was evident in the chaos that she was nowhere near done packing. Apparently, this is some sort of dysfunctional tradition with them on the night before a move.

I tried to go to bed around 1:00 am. but that was impossible with the clamor going on. I did finally manage to get to sleep sometime after Nora left. But I was angry, and the workload of the last week had my back cramping in massive Charlie horses. Around 4:00 am, I finally got up to dig the potassium and magnesium out of the bag I'd packed them in and down a couple with a glass of hot salt water.

I set my alarm for 7:30 am, and did actually drag myself out of the bed when it went off. That was the highlight of my day. Ken was awake and watching YouTube when I got up. I went into his room and told him that I really needed to get him packed or all of his things would be left behind, and I didn't want that. I asked him to pick out a few outfits to take on the plane with him and I would pack the rest. I also asked him to show me where all his tools were stored. To my utter shock, he got up and started packing his things.

Karen got up a few minutes later and started her morning blaring Marvin Gaye music and dancing around kitchen where I was making myself a cup of tea. She said that I should sit down for a while and enjoy it before we got started. I told her that we didn't really have time for that and got to work carrying out the boxes and bags that she and Nora had managed to pack up the night before. 

By 11:30 Ken had most of his things packed and in the pod. He was helping me pack the large TV when Karen started losing it. She was yelling and cursing because she couldn't find any of the dozen or so rolls of packing tape that she had scattered among her chaos. I had enough of it. I told her that all my things were in the pod, and it was no skin off my nose if hers weren't. That because of her I was exhausted, and every muscle in my body was aching. I would still help her, but not if she chose to be abusive. She could just as well row her boat alone. About that time the lady from the pod company called to tell us that she was about 20 minutes away. Karen asked her if there was any way that we could have another hour or so. The lady said no, but that we could reschedule for the next available day, which is Monday. We were both relieved to hear this and agreed quickly. I went out to the pod and found Ken tying everything down so that it won't slip and slide around on its adventure across the country. I gave him the news. He seemed happier about it than either Karen or me. 

When I went back inside, I decided that she had invited everyone over for a party and then made the mess the house was in. I was exhausted and just over it. After taking a few more items to the pod and then closing and locking it, I went in and took a nap.

I woke up two and a half hours later to find Karen gone. She and Sandy had gone out to lunch. They hadn't cleaned a thing. The entire house was a disaster. The only clear place to sit was the toilet. I went to the grocery store to get things to make sandwiches for Ken and I and a few snacks for the party. 

After Karen and Sandy got back, Nora came over. But they made no real move to clear away any of the mess until after the girls and Carley got there. Then it was apparent that the mess was a problem. Karen stacked a pile of items to go to the pod in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, the main traffic area of the house. I started taking them out to the pod. I wanted everything that was going out to the pod to be there before dark. The latch on the pod is difficult, and I didn't want to be messing with it at night. That was when Karen decided that she should start organizing her mess. It was a good time to start too, because the "guests" realizing that Karen didn't have dinner for them had gone out to eat. 

I really think this party tonight is a mistake. I can't wait for it to be over. I can't wait until they do come and get the pod, even though I am grateful for the extension. Even tonight, I have been spotting things here and there that I'd like to get into the pod before it leaves.

   

Then all we have to worry about is getting Nora, Ken and a dog and two cats to the airport. Of course, there will be the seven-day road trip that Karen and I will take to deal with. But having grown up as Army brats, we travel well together.

Still, I never want to move with these two again, ever!

11th Hour

 The 11th hour is upon us. In less than 12 hours they will be here to pick up the pod and take it across the country. With the exceptions of the items and clothing I plan to take in the car and a few odds and end items that I missed while packing, everything of mine is bubble wrapped, boxed and packed in the pod. I woke in the morning with the goal of working to help Karen and Ken get to that point also. But it was a bit like dragging a large dog into the exam room at the vet. It didn't help at all that the weather was like whiplash. In the course of an hour, it went from bright sunshine to snowing hail, then back to sunshine and then overcast and rain. Absolutely crazy weather to be trying to move in.

My plan really was to pack up Ken's room while he was at work. But he didn't go to work today. There was no explanation why. He also didn't pack anything in his room. He isn't feeling well, I know this. He is still recovering from the flu. It took me more than a month to get back to normal from it. But he wouldn't let me pack his things either. He was even more a bit short tempered about it when he told me he'd pack everything this coming weekend, and I replied that they will be here tomorrow morning to pick up the pod.

Karen slept in really late. After she got up, we both worked very hard to get what we could in the pod. We have the things we want from both sheds. All that I'm leaving behind in them for the junkers are two cheap suitcases that I hate. I'm not even going to glance at what Karen and Ken are leaving. I was totally appalled to find out that Karen was keeping an picture of our grandmother out in the shed. The picture was taken about 1911 or 12. My grandmother who was around 2 at the time was stylishly dressed, standing in front of a period toy and wearing pearls and a gold locket. It is in a very ornate, gold leaf frame that was damaged by the neglect of being left in the shed. Besides being an amazing family heirloom, it is probably worth a fortune. And she put it in the shed to keep the bats company...

Then tonight...As we were just heading out to buy more tape and boxes, Karen's daughter showed up. I love Nora, and it is great to see her home from Hawaii. But she is a major distraction. Every item to be packed is passed back and forth. The memories of it are discussed and the gossip about anyone else who is associated with the item is shared. This would have been fabulous a few weeks ago, but c'mon! We are at the "Throw it in a box and get it out the door" stage of this move. 

Not only is Nora here, but I have learned that our friend, Sandy will be here to help us. Karen told me this a few days ago. At first she told me that Sandy was coming on Friday afternoon to help us get everything packed. My reply was a deadpan, as emotionless as I could make it, "They are coming to pick up the pod on Friday morning." And Karen replied, "She will help us clean." Then later that same day I was looking into the pantry and asked if we should take the can goods over to the homeless shelter. She said no, that Carley and the girls would be coming over on Friday afternoon to pick up art supplies and my bike and a scooter. She could go the cans to see what she wanted and then we could pack the rest of it up to take to Alabama. As deadpan and emotionless as I could make it, I reiterated for about the millionth time that they would be picking up the pod on Friday morning. We have decided to take the cans that are left to the shelter after ...who knows after what. Because Carley is going to leave the girls with us and they will have a sleep over here with Nora. Sandy will be staying the night too.......I. Have. No. Words. So, in our 860 sqft house, that is torn apart, everything sitting on the floor because we are moving, we will have five adults and three children having a sleep over. What could possibly go wrong? 

And we have a dog and two cats who are freaking out because of the chaos. 

Did you see the moon tonight? There was a total eclipse.

Count Down

 

The pod arrived on Friday, but not until after 4:30 pm. By then Ken was home and as I suspected he rushed out and was doing his "man of the house" routine. The woman who delivered the pod told me that the door to the pod could be placed to face either direction. But Ken jumped in with "put it here", mainly because he didn't want to have to move his van. As a result, the door to the pod is facing away from the gate and we have to walk up a small incline. Even though I spoke up and requested the door face the gate, no, she listened to Mr. Bossman. I have to work harder to keep from emasculating a guy. I remember it with every heavy box I have been carrying up that incline. I was so furious with my brother, and I let him know it. Then I went to my room, smoked almost a whole joint by myself and went to sleep without making him dinner. Having gone to bed at 5:30 pm, I woke up at 2:00 am. The headache that I had brewed the day before was still with me and I was grumpy with the frustration that I have been feeling.

Karen is the only one of us who has actually been inside the house. Her description of the floorplan is that you walk into the house and into the main hall. on either side of the hall are two of the bedrooms, the kitchen and the living room. In the middle of the hall is a small staircase that goes up to a landing where the bathroom is, then goes to the back of the house and staircase that leads to my area upstairs. The only problem is that looking at the pictures I have, there is just no way that is a three-story house. And it isn't the style that lends itself to being a split level. Anytime I show her the pictures and ask for an explanation of what I'm seeing, she says she can't explain it, and I will just have to wait and see. That too has been a source of irritation to me. It's not just that she can't tell me anything about the floor plan, but she says she didn't pay attention to things like closets and pantries. What she saw as the porch, and that is all she apparently needed to know.

I used my early morning hours looking at the few pictures I have trying to figure out what exactly I can expect. And to my amazement I did actually come up with a reasonable deduction of what is there. The revelation started with a picture of the back of the house. I noticed that the shades are up in the upper left window. And in that window is a can of some sort. I was able to locate that window from the pictures I have of my area inside. It is the window that you face as you come up the stairs to my landing. It accounts for one the dormer windows. There is a picture of the bathroom where that window is showing in the mirror above the vanity and sinks. The other two dormer windows are in my bedroom and bonus room.

Coming up the stairs to my area, there is a rather large landing. Karen says that it is large enough for a small seating area. The window that you see is the one that I noticed the can sitting in. For the window to be in the mirror in the bathroom it has to be the door opposite it, it's kind of hard to see. The door on the left with a window showing is the larger of my two rooms. Karen can't really give me an idea of how large it is. But it has it's own mini split. There is a second one in the landing. and all of the rooms have ceiling fans. There are also closets in both of my rooms and a large linen closet in the bathroom. But the bedroom closets seem like they may be on the small side. From what I can tell from the pictures I have; the smaller closet may be close to the size of the closet that I currently use. The other room, the closet may be the size that you see in a child's bedroom. It will be more storage space than I have had for a while. I'm really kind of excited about this now.

After being up several hours figuring all this out I decided to take a nap and get up Saturday morning ready to go fresh. I woke up around 9:30 am. Karen was sitting in the living room playing games on her cell phone. Ken was in his room watching YouTube. I went out to the pod to see what we had to work with. It is 16 feet long, which is way more than I can imagine that we will use as we do not plan to take a majority of our furniture. Inside the pod are handles that can be used to tie the boxes in place so they don't slip around the unit during transit. I hadn't thought about that, so as much as I didn't want to spend money and especially at the big box store that I went too. But I needed to get things so we can get this show on the road...literally. When I got home, Karen and Ken had not moved from the locations they were in when I left. My frustrations began to flourish again. 

They are coming on Friday to pick the pod up and ship it. I am more than willing to bet that it won't be 4:30 in the afternoon. Probably more like 8:00 am. So, we need to have it packed and ready to go by Thursday night. There is nothing that I can do to motivate Karen and Ken. They are making their own decisions here. I have decided that all I can do is make sure that my things are in the pod. Karen and I already had around 30 boxes packed and stacked up in the living room. I grabbed a travel dolly that I had taking up space in my bedroom and started hauling boxes out to the pod. My plan was to take the larger and heavier boxes first. Then add a layer of larger lightweight boxes and then stacking the smaller boxes on top of them, doing one row at a time so we don't have to reach over a row of boxes to stack the pod to the ceiling. We have space, but we won't if we waste it. Karen wouldn't even stop to listen to my plan. She had three rows deep before we were even stacked halfway up. I kept having to rearrange it. 

I was exhausted to the point of physically shaking by the time we got all the boxes in the pod. When we came back into the house, Ken was pulling on his shoes and asked if he could help us load. For the three and a half hours that we were loading and arranging the pod, he sat in his bedroom watching YouTube, and as soon as we were done, he decided he should be helping.

When I got up this morning, it was Ground Hog's Day all over again. Karen was sitting on the couch playing games on her cell phone and Ken was in his bedroom watching YouTube. The only difference was that Ken had gone out and brought me home two egg McMuffins. I looked around and decided that it's time to get down to the suitcase that I will be taking with me on the trip across the country. I had told myself that it would be fine to leave my bookcases intact. At first, I wasn't going to take them. They are cheap Ikea knockoffs. But when I was in the big box store, I noticed that they are more than what I paid for them three years ago when I bought them. And with the clown we have running the country, who knows how much more they will cost next week. 

Last night I thought leaving the shelves constructed would be fine. But why? Even with plenty of space, it will fill up fast if we all do things like that. So, I deconstructed them and my desk. Then I went through my clothes and packed everything I know for sure I won't be taking in my suitcase for the trip. I need to do laundry before I can finish this task. And I couldn't, because as soon as I started taking my furniture apart, Karen got up an started doing her laundry. I will do mine tomorrow and work out just what I plan on taking with me. Everything else will be packed and taken out to the pod. My hope is to be living out of my suitcase tomorrow night, and if not, at least by Tuesday night. 

Karen's last day at work is Tuesday. I honestly do not know if Ken has even put in notice that he's leaving. It's important that he contacts Social Security. But I dare not even broach the subject with him. He knows this, but he is being a dick about it. I'm going to do my thing and let him FAFO. It would be nice if we could sit down like adults and have a constructive discussion about what the timetables are and what needs to happen. But no, that can't happen when people turn stubborn and refuse to do their part. 

Realistically, the communication has not been stellar. Karen insisted that she has the planning under control. When I'd ask for information that I needed, like "What's the target move date?" and "When is the pod coming?" or "Do we have junkers coming to take refuse away?" I was more likely to get a "Don't worry about it, everything is taken care of." Only it isn't very well planned. Nora is coming to help us pack on Thursday night. The pod will be gone the next morning. 

My frustration at this point is boundless. All I can really do is make sure that I have done what I need for myself. I know that by this time next month, I will be complaining because I won't be able to find all my stuff and I wish I'd labeled the boxes better. I hope that we will all be settling into our new home.