Hanging

As Debra aptly pointed out to me in a comment on my last post, I left you hanging on the side of a cliff. Details should be coming...

Unfortunately, there really are none that we know. I have a lifelong habit of not asking the questions that I really don't want the answers too. It seems that I have passed that on to my son. He didn't ask many questions. Jack is in deep shock and isn't really talking right now. I have ordered a large cheesecake from Walmart that should arrive in an hour and have baked a lasagna for when Jack wakes up. Apparently, we eat through our hardships.

Last night Jack went out with some friends. Tim thought that he had plans to stay over at the home of one of them. So, we weren't concerned when Jack didn't show up at curfew. 

I was up late following through with a genealogy hint I had just learned, when around 2:00 am I heard Tim in the hall on the phone with Jack. I didn't think much of it, we are all night-owls and don't sleep when others do. But then, Tim came in and told me the news: Jack had left his friends, heading home for curfew when he passed some woods that he wanted to explore. While he was exploring, he came upon a dead body. When he called Tim, his first sentence was the one that every parent dreads, "I'm okay, I'm not in trouble. I'm here with the police."

The Jeep is still in the shop. Tim had to call Uber to get to where Jack and the cops were. I baked cookies while I waited for them. And then I took a shower. And then I blogged...because what else do you do in a crisis? 

Tim didn't ask the police, or Jack any questions about the body. His focus was on Jack being safe and being supported. As I said before, Jack is in shock. He really isn't talking. This morning, after Tim got him home, he was pacing, circling the apartment from stress. He ate all the cookies in the baggie before I went to bed. When I got up around noon, I found a pan half full of canned soup, another one unopened on the counter. If you are going to eat your stress, you may as well have something decent to do it with. That is when I decided to bake the lasagna and order the cheesecake.

I know nothing about the body. From the Facebook neighborhood page, I know that there are a couple of college students that have been missing for a few days. I hope that they have just decided to take a quick trip down to Gulf Shores and will show up in a bit. hope that the body Jack found wasn't either of them. I don't know why that should be more comforting than if it was a homeless person, or a confused patient that wondered away from the nearby hospital. Someone died in the woods alone, and that is disturbing. And Jack found their body. We are in shock. The hygge has been shattered

I don't know if we will ever find out anything more about it. I don't know that we want too. Maybe it is better if we don't. 

 

Those that Roam the Night

I have complained mentioned in the past that Jack thinks he's a hobbit. And not the kind that likes to stay close to the shire and eschews adventure. He roams the local woods at night, looking for what, I could not tell you. Tonight, he found more than he'd bargained for. 

He's a good kid, mostly. The cop noted that, and that he's polite. It's a good thing that his father, being a paramedic in the town, is well known to law enforcement for the right reasons. And his mother is a senior manager at the University. And her parents are well established in the area, being alumni donors to the same university. That sort of thing helps around places like this. It especially helps because his grandfather is known for hiking and exploring, having established many of the trails around here. It does explain why a teenager might be roaming around the woods at 3:00 am on a random Tuesday in July.

My fears, being the worrying kind, were that he'd find a bobcat or a snake of some wild beast suffering from rabies. There are plenty of dangers without even considering the evil caused by humans. You wouldn't want to come up on someone's still, or anything like that. Everyone knows that nothing good can be found after midnight. 

But tonight, Jack found a dead body...

Reports From the Homeland...

The reports are beginning to come in. My friends are posting their pictures online. This photo was sent to me from an anthropologist. She is ordained as an Episcopalian minister and is working as a manager for a fortune 500 company. She is bold in her efforts. She posted her pictures online with her name attached. She is unafraid to let others know what she is doing. 

Other friends from Seattle, Portland, Flint, Austin, Charleston and many other places are also sending out their pictures. Like me, they still feel that we have the right to protest. I wonder if they too were cautioned that their photos might at some point be used as evidence against them, and they just don't care. That kind of prosecution is not supposed to happen here. But many things that we grew up believing don't happen here are happening now. 

My friends are telling stories of meeting people at the protests that less than a year ago voted for the regime in power. They say that this isn't what they were voting for. When they voted to deport the criminals, they weren't voting to deport the pastor of the Spanish speaking church or the coach of their kid's baseball team. Now they realize that the criminal with 34 felonies, the adjudicated rapist, is actually running the country. It would be all to easy to just say, "FAFO, I guess you didn't see the leopard coming for your face." I wonder how many more of them will

be at the next protest when they realize that the disabled child they know was kicked off of Medicaid; that they got no warning of an impending storm because the program was cut; that the roadway project to fix the potholes in their streets and the projects to fix the bridges and dams where they live have been gutted. The money was all diverted to give tax breaks to the already very wealthy. 

It used to be those other people who protested, who got out in the streets and made the government listen. Now it must be all of us.

And Maybe It Happened...

Not saying either way, but it may have happened. So, if we were there at Toomer's Corner yesterday the feeling was to not post any pictures online that could identify anyone. The rumor being that the 🟠💩administration might at some point run out of immigrants to harass and start deporting protestors. You know, don't rat out your neighbor. Maybe I was there, or maybe I wasn't. 

And if I happened to be there, innocently holding a sign and looking around, I might have been surprised that in this very red state hundreds of people were hanging around some trees that suffer from toilet paper poisoning. Not that anyone was tossing toilet paper, the football team hadn't won a game after all. I mean if there had been anyone there at all.

It was hot, and the air was soupy. So, if I had gone, I had to leave early or get sick from the heat. And if the teenager had been with me, I would have thought he'd complain about having to leave early. But if he was there, he was more interested in going home and playing video games in the air conditioning than standing out in the heat. Priorities, after all...

I'm not saying it happened, but you know...it could have... And kudos to the people walking around handing out red, white and blue popsicles.
 

Cluttered

I keep trying to write this blog post, and when I get the words written out, I realize that I have gone too far. I will be telling a story that is not mine to tell. It will reveal things that someone else may consider private. (Nothing illegal, or immoral. Just something someone else might not want discussed in public.) A blog is gossip, after all. You get one side of any story that is told.

We live in a cluttered place. It's very small and there are three of us. We all have our things and they kind of compete for space. We see each other's things: mail, purchases, laundry, medication. And this is where it becomes not my story to tell. It frustrating, because it affects me, and my hygge. And deep down, I know that as much as it isn't my story, it isn't my responsibility either. My best bet is to let it rest. 

I'm a clean as you go type person, and a semi-un-fit housekeeper at that. The house will be clean enough to eat off the plates, but you don't want to set up your charcuterie on the floor. The floors get vacuumed. swept, and mopped every day. I keep dishes washed, surfaces wiped down, furniture dusted. It's clean enough. 

In my mind, the clutter equals depression. In reality, it is mostly caused because there are three of us in a small space and our things compete for space. There is a component of depression there. We are all three recovering from recent trauma. 

I need to do more to deal with my depression. I told myself on the train here that I'd seek counseling when I got here. Then I said I would get help when my insurance got changed over. Now I have no excuse really. So, I say as soon as I get back from Chicago. I'm putting it off. As easy as it is to overshare on social media about other people, calling it venting or telling my story, it is hard to do it when the person I'm venting about is myself, when it's me being scrutinized. I want to control my private things. 

 

Where Have All The Old Blogs Gone?

I'm becoming more undisciplined in my old age than a teenager on summer break. I sleep when I want, eat what I want, waste massive hours of time doing whatever I want. It's fine to do here (at least for now). Tim and Jack tend to keep odd schedules themselves and don't seem to mind my selfishness. 

So, in keeping with my lifestyle of time wasting, I have spent a good portion of the morning perusing my blogger reading list. I follow over 100 blogs, but most of them aren't active anymore. I kind of knew this because when I log in to read blogs, I am only seeing the same 10 or so bloggers anymore. That led me to nostalgia. Remember the good old days?  The Cheerful Oncologist...Radish King...37 Paddington...Six until Me... there were so many more. And I realize as I am typing this, that I too, am part of the problem. Like everything else in my lack of discipline, I am an undisciplined blogger. I blog when it suits me. That doesn't make me a very good friend, even if it is a virtual one. My sincerest apologies. I am trying to get better. The new computer helps.

I worry that blogging is becoming a thing of the past. You know, one of those odd things boomers did, like chat rooms and dial-up internet. It has been a decades long lifeline to me. I really don't want to see it go away.

July

It's July 2nd already. In a few days will be the 249th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I feel like I should celebrate.  It may be the last opportunity I get to do it. Who knows if we will even still have a country to celebrate for the Semiquincentennial. 

More than one of the most memorable 4ths that I've ever had were spent at a fort that is less than 40 miles from here. But Tim will be working, and I won't have transportation, let alone a pass to get in the gates. But I'd love to be there, to see the fireworks, to hear taps softly playing at the end of the night. to remember normal.

I honestly have no plans for the day, none for the evening.  Maybe I will take a trip to Toomers Corner to join the No Kings protest. That seems a better use of my time anyway. The larger protests will be in the big cities, Montgomery and Birmingham. But if we are protesting everywhere, they can't attack us all. There are more of us than there are of them. The flag is wrong. It must have been drawn by a republican. They don't seem to understand what it is, or what it means.

In other news, Mollie is finishing the program she's been training at to become a radiology tech. After the mid-term grades were available, the decision was made to let her take the boards early. That is almost unheard of. She will be taking them on July 10. If she passes, she's done with her training. And she already has a very good paying job. The hospital where she did her clinicals approached her and asked her to apply. For once she is quite proud of herself. She should be and I'm glad to see it. She is normally self-defacing no matter how well she has done. 

There will be a ceremony on the 24th to celebrate the achievement. She will be getting a pin? I will be flying up to be there for it. 🙁 Yes, flying. It started out as a road trip, but car issues changed those plans. No matter, I have round trip tickets and will be there. I would be happy to never have to fly again. I could take Amtrak, but it would be twice as expensive as flying. And I didn't get a deal on the airline tickets. I booked them a few weeks ago, and then, not even a week later I found out that the airlines have dropped their prices. I went back on to the site and found out that it was a substantial drop. But I booked the cheap flight that don't allow cancellations. I should just be happy that I can afford to travel. It will be nice to see Mollie again. It will be great to be celebrating with her in a city that specializes in celebrating. 

I have other travels planned for the fall. I'll be in Atlanta for my 50th high school reunion. My itinerary is already booked for that trip too. I have been approached by several of my former classmates asking if I'll be there. I really wasn't all that popular in high school, but we are all older now. We have different perspectives. 

And then the holidays...

Ring of Fire

Apparently, being on the outside edge of a heat dome is called being in the ring of fire. I'm not sure if it would be better to be in the center or in the ring. Violent storms break out in the ring and we experienced that last night. The sky above us was filled with lightning all night. The thunderstorms were intense and lasted for hours. Trees fell, tornadoes touched down and we lost a few lives to the storm.

But the heat broke. Temperatures today and forecasted for the rest of the month will not hit 90 degrees. I'm grateful for that much. 

Jack seems to think that he is a hobbit. He decided to wander out into the woods shortly before the storm started. It worried me. He stayed out through the worst of it, coming in after the rains had let up. I wonder what motivates young men to want to experience such foolishness. But he came home safe.

His father was out in it also, but for very different reasons. His ambulance was hit by a falling tree but was only slightly damaged. They were able to keep it in service.

Tonight, we are enjoying the cooler weather and a spectacular sunset. It feels like a testament to the idea that life goes on, even after the storm.

Hot!

It's hot! Hot and muggy, and it won't get any better for a few days. The last time I was sitting under a heat dome, it was 2021 in Seattle. I was living, as most people in the area, in a house that has no air conditioning. No one really needs it there most of the time. A hot summer day there is usually around 90 degrees. And if it cools off at night, you can bear that kind of heat. But then it was 116 degrees in the day and didn't get out of the 90's until well after midnight. Because everything was closed down due to Covid, there were no cooling stations like malls, libraries or movie theaters we could go to. We all got sick from the heat. The cats were kept alive because we froze towels and laid them on the counters for them to cool down on. I soaked cotton scarves and kept myself hydrated. 

I am grateful for the air-conditioning that we are enjoying here now. But I am afraid of the grid failing and the power going out. At least there are cooling stations now. I am grateful for that too. 

Alabama is on the edge of the dome. We won't see the most extreme heat. I fear for the people of New York where the dome is centered. A few more days and it will be over, but how many people will die of the heat before this thing move out into the ocean? 

It would be great if we had a real government now. One that didn't see life as expendable. But we know that is how they see it. They convinced a kid to climb on a roof and take some pot shots at the dictator, all for a publicity stunt. They picked a kid they knew was a bad shot. It was okay that he was killed, that he killed a cult member sitting in the audience. They needed the photo-op. They even faked an injury on the dictator's ear to gain a little sympathy for the fat old man. Life is expendable to them.

The mango Mussolini got laughed out of Canada, so he decided to bomb Iran. He needs another photo-op. It's okay that people will die because of it, as long as he can show that he is a tough guy. We can't afford medical care for the disabled, or to feed school children. But another republican vanity war is just the ticket that we need. Right. 

I asked Matt if he'd be deployed. His answer was surprising to me. He thinks this was a one and done operation. He seems to think that Iran blows a lot of steam, but there is no substance to what their power. I doubt the people of Tel Aviv agree. I worry that the idiot has started WW3 with a nuclear power because Mark Carney laughed at him and Emmanuel Macron hurt his feelings. But you know, it's okay with him that people will die. Nobody gets to make fun of him. 

When I was 12, I got in trouble in a history class because I said that the people who followed Hitler had to know what they were doing was wrong. Nothing anybody has ever said to me has changed my mind. That is why I am at the point of distain for anyone who follows the 🟠💩now. I think it has to be a choice to be evil. The man sows chaos wherever he goes, He never does the right thing, 

 

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.