Greetings!
First, I bring glad tidings of great joy - Big Brother and Didi recently gave birth to a healthy baby boy! Little Pumpkin weighed in at 8 pounds, 8 ounces, and measured 21 and a half inches. We are tickled pink to be grandparents, and look forward to watching him grow. Congratulations to the happy little family!
Well, Christmas is upon us, and in true Stress Pool style, we've decorated in the usual fashion. DH brought the tree up from the garage/attic (we don't have an attic, and since the cars are too tall for the garage - well, there you go!), which sat in the living room for a week and a few days. Then, last week we put the tree together. It's a nice, new one from Balsam Hill - we got it on sale this past summer at 50% off. Pre-lit, it made a huge difference in the amount of time setting it up (and a lot less cursing!) than in years past! So, if you drove past the house, you'd see it in the window. Not decorated, but at least it was put together! Then, one holly topiary made it up. The other goes in the entry way - along with a garland with the Christmas Mice. (They are gold in color, and illustrate "The Night Before Christmas". Then, a few other things made their way in. We still haven't found the tree skirt or stockings, but there is time. But, with only a week before Christmas, I decided it was time to at least get ornaments on the tree.
After I slept through the evening news and most of Jeopardy!, I rolled up my sleeves and dug into the box of ornaments we brought up yesterday. We decided on the Santas. Yes, there are the 'meaningful' ornaments - the ones with the kids names, and some they made, and some that were given as gifts, and they're wonderful memories. But Christmas is still hard, and it can be a bit much at times. Somewhere along the line I lost the last 10 years. It isn't that I don't like Christmas, I do - but there is still a gaping hole in my heart that will probably never fill in. It is mostly covered over with a filmy layer of silk, and I've learned to put a smile on my face - even the occasional laugh. But Christmas music often makes me cry...enough maudlin. Down to business. (Wipe the eyes, continue with life.)
The box is marked 'Santas' in DH's handwriting. At one point I must have added 'Angels', 'Eskimos', 'Penguins', and 'Wendel August Forge' ornaments. The new tree is a little smaller than the old one, so I had to be choosy. There were the ceramic angels DH made in ceramics class - one dozen, cream and gold. I always chuckle getting them out of the box, because they're hollow at the bottom, and sometimes the packing peanuts get stuck inside. Yeah, I know it's a bit juvenile, but you gotta get the laughs where you can! There is a clear, acrylic angel with Eggbert's name, given to us by the funeral home the year he died. There is a Befana (which DH said was hard to come by - they were popular that year!) Santa Lucia, and many other gift-givers from around the world, including a few of Saint Nicholas. There is a Miss Piggy angel given to me by my Aunt Peg somewhere around 1980, and an angel my friend, Sister Donna, brought from Peru. Angels made from shells. There is even a buck-naked elf made out of old nylon stockings, given to me by a student my first year of teaching (back in the old days, when we had to wash the floors and stoke the fire in the stove!) Eskimos are the Hallmark 'Frosty Friends' series - we missed a few years, but there are still a lot of them, as well as the penguins, which I believe were mostly bought for Moink. I don't remember where all the Santas came from, part of the lost years, but we've picked some up on vacations to Virginia, and possibly when we went to Tennessee. All in all, a lot of nice collection of ornaments.
My favorite one, though, is the kneeling Santa. It's small, and shows Santa kneeling before the Christ child in the manger, hat off, humbled, for without Jesus, there would be no Santa, and that is a plain and simple fact. I seem to recall that Big Brother and Didi aren't going to 'do the Santa thing' with their kids. I can't wait until Little Pumpkin is older, because I hope his parents don't mind him becoming a Santa for others - something I so enjoy doing! Helping others in need is such a necessary thing, and we have so much, we are so fortunate - we need to share that with others.
So, I sit and sip a bit of pumpkin spice Bailey's, look at the lights on the tree, and remember Christmases past. Times when children decorated as high as they could reach, clamoring over who would put up which ornament. Remembering times when at last, the house was quiet, and DH and I could share a moment in the silence, admiring the gleaming lights in the comfort of each other's company. I wonder what your favorite ornament is, and why it holds a special meaning in your heart?
I'd like to take this opportunity to wish all of you and yours a Happy Christmas. My wish is for you to enjoy the magic of this joyous season. Don't stress (easy for me to say, right?!) because there's no reason to - if it gets done, it gets done. If the tree was still in the box in the middle of the living room, I might have been tempted to string lights around it and call it a day! Just enjoy the time you have with each other - after all, time is short. Children grow up too fast. People fade from our lives, either because they move on to other things, or just plain move on.
And, please come back to visit at the pool, where the water is usually warm, and where friends are always welcome. Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 17, 2018
Monday, December 10, 2018
A Mima Moment
Welcome to the Stress Pool, where everyday is sunny and the water temperature is just right!
I haven't mentioned Mima in quite awhile, mostly because she's in Senior Prison, and truthfully, not much happens there. Well, that's not really true. Apparently, a lot goes on there, and I, for one, am glad to miss most of it! Whenever anyone asks me how she's doing, my standard answer is, "She's full of piss and vinegar."
Mima had a knee replaced two years ago - almost three now. It went badly. She was inhabited by a deep wound infection that ate - yes, ate - the plastic, the tissue, the bone, and the titanium. We were fortunate that she lived. After months of IV drugs and numerous visits to doctors, all was well enough that she could have had it done again, or leave it alone. The orthopedist asked what she'd like to do. She looked at me. I looked at him. "If she was your grandmother, what would you suggest?"
Dr. Eye Candy (yeah, he's all that) patted her hand and said, "If you were my nana, I would tell you to leave it alone." He felt that it was just opening it all to another infection, and secretly, I agreed. So, we went back to Senior Prison, and Mima went to physical therapy.
But, when you're in your early eighties, sometimes you want sympathy more than anything else. "You'll be so proud of me. I stood up for two minutes today."
"That's great, mom, but you've got to work a little harder than that."
Eventually, insurance took her off the physical therapy. If you're not making progress, you don't get to keep going.
"But, I was standing."
"Yes, but you weren't walking."
"I can't. I don't have the strength. How can they expect me to do that if they don't help me get my strength up?"
"Sigh."
She is now eighty-four, and though she cannot walk (or stand), she wields power from that bed. Aides fear her. Nurses question their career paths. Directors steer clear. And, Dietary - well, let's keep that for another day! She never leaves the room, doesn't let them keep the door open, yet she knows pretty much everything that goes on. She can tell me the names of residents who scooch by on their wheel chairs. and the scrapes they get into. She can tell me about the family who visits their person down the hall. It's amazing the information she's able to get. Seriously, if the FBI ever wanted to investigate the place, she's their best bet for a plant.
As I left one evening, I mentioned to the nurse on duty that I heard of the passing of one of the residents, a lovely woman who had once been mom's room mate. "Oh, yeah, she died the other night." Then, she stopped. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Mom told me."
This sweet little woman slapped her hand to her head. "How does she know all this? She never leaves that room, but she knows everything that goes on here!"
Of course, I take my share of abuse. Every Sunday I make my way there, and the visit goes pretty much the same way each time. "Did you bring me clean pajamas?"
"Yes. I just put them in your drawer."
"Did you bring me coffee creamer? And biscuits?"
"Yes. I'm marking dates on them now." I tear off paper tape from the roll and write her name and dates on everything, then go in search of someone to put them in the refrigerator.
Back in the room. "Did you water my plants?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you."
"I watered the plants."
Once all the business is taken care of, we can sit and talk. I usually stay a couple hours, tell her crazy things that happen at school or at home. She offers opinions, and then tells me things the aides tell her. "Don't repeat those things."
"Why?"
I frown at her. "That's gossip. Don't repeat stuff. Behave yourself."
"Hmmph."
Yup. That's my mom. It's got to be hard on her, and it's no wonder she's not accepted her station with grace. Or, maybe she has, but it just doesn't seem that way.
Whenever I get there, she's either playing on her tablet (Christmas gift last year), or listening to books on tape. Sometimes she crochets granny square afghans, but with macular degeneration, that's getting harder for her to do, too. It takes a great amount of courage to accept what she's endured. She's suffered her fair amount of hardships. She misses seeing the family during events, and in general. She often laments the kids don't come around, and I have to remind her that I don't see the older ones much, either, but I see them more than she does. In the end, it's difficult watching someone you love deteriorate and you can't do anything about it. DH's mom had Altzheimer's, but her body was fine. It seems you either get to keep one or the other. I don't know which I'd rather - some days it already feels as if my mind has gone. I swear I meet new people every day, starting with the nice people who walk around my house!
So, in this season of Advent, as we approach the bright days of Christmas, maybe take a few minutes and visit someone who might be lonely, or do something nice for an elder in your life. We all have our own little Stress Pools, even if they're only as big as wading pools. And, if you'd like, weigh in with how good it felt to brighten someone's day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pajamas to fold. Thanks for dipping your toe in the Pool, and come back soon - I'm trying to get better at posting!
I haven't mentioned Mima in quite awhile, mostly because she's in Senior Prison, and truthfully, not much happens there. Well, that's not really true. Apparently, a lot goes on there, and I, for one, am glad to miss most of it! Whenever anyone asks me how she's doing, my standard answer is, "She's full of piss and vinegar."
Mima had a knee replaced two years ago - almost three now. It went badly. She was inhabited by a deep wound infection that ate - yes, ate - the plastic, the tissue, the bone, and the titanium. We were fortunate that she lived. After months of IV drugs and numerous visits to doctors, all was well enough that she could have had it done again, or leave it alone. The orthopedist asked what she'd like to do. She looked at me. I looked at him. "If she was your grandmother, what would you suggest?"
Dr. Eye Candy (yeah, he's all that) patted her hand and said, "If you were my nana, I would tell you to leave it alone." He felt that it was just opening it all to another infection, and secretly, I agreed. So, we went back to Senior Prison, and Mima went to physical therapy.
But, when you're in your early eighties, sometimes you want sympathy more than anything else. "You'll be so proud of me. I stood up for two minutes today."
"That's great, mom, but you've got to work a little harder than that."
Eventually, insurance took her off the physical therapy. If you're not making progress, you don't get to keep going.
"But, I was standing."
"Yes, but you weren't walking."
"I can't. I don't have the strength. How can they expect me to do that if they don't help me get my strength up?"
"Sigh."
She is now eighty-four, and though she cannot walk (or stand), she wields power from that bed. Aides fear her. Nurses question their career paths. Directors steer clear. And, Dietary - well, let's keep that for another day! She never leaves the room, doesn't let them keep the door open, yet she knows pretty much everything that goes on. She can tell me the names of residents who scooch by on their wheel chairs. and the scrapes they get into. She can tell me about the family who visits their person down the hall. It's amazing the information she's able to get. Seriously, if the FBI ever wanted to investigate the place, she's their best bet for a plant.
As I left one evening, I mentioned to the nurse on duty that I heard of the passing of one of the residents, a lovely woman who had once been mom's room mate. "Oh, yeah, she died the other night." Then, she stopped. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Mom told me."
This sweet little woman slapped her hand to her head. "How does she know all this? She never leaves that room, but she knows everything that goes on here!"
Of course, I take my share of abuse. Every Sunday I make my way there, and the visit goes pretty much the same way each time. "Did you bring me clean pajamas?"
"Yes. I just put them in your drawer."
"Did you bring me coffee creamer? And biscuits?"
"Yes. I'm marking dates on them now." I tear off paper tape from the roll and write her name and dates on everything, then go in search of someone to put them in the refrigerator.
Back in the room. "Did you water my plants?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you."
"I watered the plants."
Once all the business is taken care of, we can sit and talk. I usually stay a couple hours, tell her crazy things that happen at school or at home. She offers opinions, and then tells me things the aides tell her. "Don't repeat those things."
"Why?"
I frown at her. "That's gossip. Don't repeat stuff. Behave yourself."
"Hmmph."
Yup. That's my mom. It's got to be hard on her, and it's no wonder she's not accepted her station with grace. Or, maybe she has, but it just doesn't seem that way.
Whenever I get there, she's either playing on her tablet (Christmas gift last year), or listening to books on tape. Sometimes she crochets granny square afghans, but with macular degeneration, that's getting harder for her to do, too. It takes a great amount of courage to accept what she's endured. She's suffered her fair amount of hardships. She misses seeing the family during events, and in general. She often laments the kids don't come around, and I have to remind her that I don't see the older ones much, either, but I see them more than she does. In the end, it's difficult watching someone you love deteriorate and you can't do anything about it. DH's mom had Altzheimer's, but her body was fine. It seems you either get to keep one or the other. I don't know which I'd rather - some days it already feels as if my mind has gone. I swear I meet new people every day, starting with the nice people who walk around my house!
So, in this season of Advent, as we approach the bright days of Christmas, maybe take a few minutes and visit someone who might be lonely, or do something nice for an elder in your life. We all have our own little Stress Pools, even if they're only as big as wading pools. And, if you'd like, weigh in with how good it felt to brighten someone's day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pajamas to fold. Thanks for dipping your toe in the Pool, and come back soon - I'm trying to get better at posting!
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
A State of Mind
The home front isn't the only pool I manage. There is also the school pool, where I spend the majority of my waking hours during the year. And, the motto for this school year is, "I shall not be miserable today."
That sounds utterly ridiculous, awful - and maybe even a little negative. It isn't meant to be, in fact, it's quite the opposite. The past couple of years have been hard, but I realize it was I who made it that way. Approximately 175 children cross my path on a daily basis, all who ask, "What do I do next?", "What are we doing? I was in the Bahamas." Or, my favorite, "Like this?" It can drive one absolutely bonkers.
I repeat myself, at minimum, one hundred times. I repeat myself, at minimum...wait, I think I already said that! I write the directions on the board, and include them in the rubrics they put into their portfolio envelopes, just to conveniently lose them. I would no sooner get a stack of artwork assessed when another stack grew behind my back as I passed back the first stack. I sort of began feeling like a lab rat in an endless maze. By the time the third show came around where I was to send artwork to the High School art teacher, I couldn't keep track of name tags, artwork, supplies...total nightmare. I would come home exhausted, cranky, and downright miserable.
Not this year.
There are still several years to go before retirement can occur, and I woke up one morning this past summer determined to change my attitude. It was necessary for survival. "I shall not be miserable today."
Even when someone cuts through an entire ball of yarn trying to cut one piece.
Even when they don't follow the directions, no matter how many times I've explained it.
Even when I have to cover someone else's class because of the substitute shortage. (My apologies to colleagues who teach math - you don't even want me to talk to them about math! I don't math - I art.)
Even when someone 'borrows' my supplies and doesn't return them - especially the ones I've supplied myself!
Even when it's cold, and I'm tired, and want nothing more to be in my slippers and sweats.
It's all a state of mind. One of my dear colleagues also has a motto this year. It's " F@%$# it."
Also a state of mind, and not necessarily negative. Survival, people, it's all about survival.
"He who retires with sanity intact, wins."
And now, it's December. Christmas music rings in the air, and they're still eating Halloween candy - or have started on the candy canes. There is nothing like talking to a room full of nearly teens in December and May - it equals about the same result. Blank stares, or they look at me as if I've got three heads with tentacles sprouting from my shoulders. You would think that would garner interest - nope.
"I shall not be miserable today."
In this season of Advent, may we all find that inner peace that takes away the miserableness that is sometimes thrown in our way, and turn it into something joyous.
Thanks for stopping by the Stress Pool, where things are always interesting!
That sounds utterly ridiculous, awful - and maybe even a little negative. It isn't meant to be, in fact, it's quite the opposite. The past couple of years have been hard, but I realize it was I who made it that way. Approximately 175 children cross my path on a daily basis, all who ask, "What do I do next?", "What are we doing? I was in the Bahamas." Or, my favorite, "Like this?" It can drive one absolutely bonkers.
I repeat myself, at minimum, one hundred times. I repeat myself, at minimum...wait, I think I already said that! I write the directions on the board, and include them in the rubrics they put into their portfolio envelopes, just to conveniently lose them. I would no sooner get a stack of artwork assessed when another stack grew behind my back as I passed back the first stack. I sort of began feeling like a lab rat in an endless maze. By the time the third show came around where I was to send artwork to the High School art teacher, I couldn't keep track of name tags, artwork, supplies...total nightmare. I would come home exhausted, cranky, and downright miserable.
Not this year.
There are still several years to go before retirement can occur, and I woke up one morning this past summer determined to change my attitude. It was necessary for survival. "I shall not be miserable today."
Even when someone cuts through an entire ball of yarn trying to cut one piece.
Even when they don't follow the directions, no matter how many times I've explained it.
Even when I have to cover someone else's class because of the substitute shortage. (My apologies to colleagues who teach math - you don't even want me to talk to them about math! I don't math - I art.)
Even when someone 'borrows' my supplies and doesn't return them - especially the ones I've supplied myself!
Even when it's cold, and I'm tired, and want nothing more to be in my slippers and sweats.
It's all a state of mind. One of my dear colleagues also has a motto this year. It's " F@%$# it."
Also a state of mind, and not necessarily negative. Survival, people, it's all about survival.
"He who retires with sanity intact, wins."
And now, it's December. Christmas music rings in the air, and they're still eating Halloween candy - or have started on the candy canes. There is nothing like talking to a room full of nearly teens in December and May - it equals about the same result. Blank stares, or they look at me as if I've got three heads with tentacles sprouting from my shoulders. You would think that would garner interest - nope.
"I shall not be miserable today."
In this season of Advent, may we all find that inner peace that takes away the miserableness that is sometimes thrown in our way, and turn it into something joyous.
Thanks for stopping by the Stress Pool, where things are always interesting!
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Taking Stock of the Concession Stand at the Pool
Greetings, friends!
It's a rainy day at the pool - literally, it's raining outside. Perfect time to come inside and assess the day-to-day workings, starting with the concession stand, AKA the Kitchen.
For those who know me well, they will tell you I don't do too badly as the chief cook and bottle washer, probably from all the practice through the years! DH doesn't complain much, except the poor man has been subjected to all sorts of experimental meals this summer. We have a LOAD of recipes that have been collected through the last 34 years, many of which have lovely pictures, but have never been taste-tested in our kitchen. Some of the experiments were real hits; some not so much, and those were appropriately filed in the waste bin. However, there is still a stack to go through. (Picture me hunched over, wringing my hands, laughing maniacally)
Turning the kitchen into an evil doctor's laboratory aside, we have dinners under control. I know I've mentioned in the past that we make a Monthly Menu for dinner. My friend Donna thinks I should publish that and an accompanying shopping list. Maybe someday. The trick is to look at the season (mostly winter or summer), and adjust accordingly. It's hard to make a dish using butternut squash if it isn't in season! Salads are more fun in the summer, while soup makes it onto the menu at least once a week in the winter. Then, add in chicken one night, beef another, and the occasional pork dish. Vegetarian? Sorry - I raised a bunch of carnivores. If I omitted meat, the word mutiny comes to mind.
My downfall is lunch and, yes, breakfast.
Breakfast is actually my favorite meal - I could eat eggs, sausage, and bacon every day, (throw some fresh fruit in there during the summer), but health issues tell me I shouldn't do that on a daily basis. So does the scale. (My least favorite device in the house).
Recently, my aforementioned friend Donna and I went out for a bite, and we covered a wide gamut of topics, one being meals and the need to eat healthier. (Yes, all the world's problems have now been solved. You're welcome.) That's when she mentioned something that made me go, "huh." She LOVES oatmeal. I do not. In fact, cereal is my least favorite food, but I understand the importance of it in one's diet. The only trouble is that I require a fair amount of sugar to make it remotely palatable, enough so that it would make Doctor Barry frown very hard. Then, Donna told me about Refrigerator Oatmeal.
"What's that?" you ask? Well, I looked it up this morning and found a few recipes for experimentation. (again, maniacal laughter rings through the house) I mean, who couldn't resist something called 'Blueberry Cheesecake', or 'Apple, Inc.', and don't forget 'Chocolate Banana Bonkers' and 'Peachy Blinder'. Instead of sugar, use fruit, and yogurt, and maybe a teaspoon of maple syrup! Brilliant! And, the best part? You make it the night before in a mason jar, stick it in the fridge, and voila! You have breakfast! You can take it on the go - maybe heat it in the microwave when you get to work on days you're running a little late. In the meantime, you've got a healthy breakfast that might not taste so bad. Here's the link I found for recipe ideas. https://hurrythefoodup.com/how-to-make-overnight-oats-in-a-jar
Some of the recipes suggested chia seeds - no. Sorry, but there are just some things I can't fathom, like something one would rub on a terracotta figure, add water, and watch grass grow on Shreck's head. Yeah....no. I ordered a few mason jars from our favorite online ordering spot - everything from A to Z, you know. (Sorry, DH, but I didn't want to hog up all the jars we already own!). You can make enough of these oatmeal concoctions to last a few days, so I can still have eggs once in a while. Just not every day. I can live with that.
Lunches - well, we're working on that, too. DH bought a bunch of containers so that we can make up meals over the weekend, pack them in these containers, and lunches are healthy and ready to go. Sounds like a lot of work, but if we're doing this together, then no big deal, right? It might at least be diverting for awhile!
So, if you're in the neighborhood, stop by the Pool - and please, don't be put off by the woman with crazy hair, covered in flour, running around the kitchen and laughing like she's lost her last marble. I'll always hold onto a few for my friends! Maybe there will even be a piece of pie and a hot cup of coffee to share.
It's a rainy day at the pool - literally, it's raining outside. Perfect time to come inside and assess the day-to-day workings, starting with the concession stand, AKA the Kitchen.
For those who know me well, they will tell you I don't do too badly as the chief cook and bottle washer, probably from all the practice through the years! DH doesn't complain much, except the poor man has been subjected to all sorts of experimental meals this summer. We have a LOAD of recipes that have been collected through the last 34 years, many of which have lovely pictures, but have never been taste-tested in our kitchen. Some of the experiments were real hits; some not so much, and those were appropriately filed in the waste bin. However, there is still a stack to go through. (Picture me hunched over, wringing my hands, laughing maniacally)
Turning the kitchen into an evil doctor's laboratory aside, we have dinners under control. I know I've mentioned in the past that we make a Monthly Menu for dinner. My friend Donna thinks I should publish that and an accompanying shopping list. Maybe someday. The trick is to look at the season (mostly winter or summer), and adjust accordingly. It's hard to make a dish using butternut squash if it isn't in season! Salads are more fun in the summer, while soup makes it onto the menu at least once a week in the winter. Then, add in chicken one night, beef another, and the occasional pork dish. Vegetarian? Sorry - I raised a bunch of carnivores. If I omitted meat, the word mutiny comes to mind.
My downfall is lunch and, yes, breakfast.
Breakfast is actually my favorite meal - I could eat eggs, sausage, and bacon every day, (throw some fresh fruit in there during the summer), but health issues tell me I shouldn't do that on a daily basis. So does the scale. (My least favorite device in the house).
Recently, my aforementioned friend Donna and I went out for a bite, and we covered a wide gamut of topics, one being meals and the need to eat healthier. (Yes, all the world's problems have now been solved. You're welcome.) That's when she mentioned something that made me go, "huh." She LOVES oatmeal. I do not. In fact, cereal is my least favorite food, but I understand the importance of it in one's diet. The only trouble is that I require a fair amount of sugar to make it remotely palatable, enough so that it would make Doctor Barry frown very hard. Then, Donna told me about Refrigerator Oatmeal.
"What's that?" you ask? Well, I looked it up this morning and found a few recipes for experimentation. (again, maniacal laughter rings through the house) I mean, who couldn't resist something called 'Blueberry Cheesecake', or 'Apple, Inc.', and don't forget 'Chocolate Banana Bonkers' and 'Peachy Blinder'. Instead of sugar, use fruit, and yogurt, and maybe a teaspoon of maple syrup! Brilliant! And, the best part? You make it the night before in a mason jar, stick it in the fridge, and voila! You have breakfast! You can take it on the go - maybe heat it in the microwave when you get to work on days you're running a little late. In the meantime, you've got a healthy breakfast that might not taste so bad. Here's the link I found for recipe ideas. https://hurrythefoodup.com/how-to-make-overnight-oats-in-a-jar
Some of the recipes suggested chia seeds - no. Sorry, but there are just some things I can't fathom, like something one would rub on a terracotta figure, add water, and watch grass grow on Shreck's head. Yeah....no. I ordered a few mason jars from our favorite online ordering spot - everything from A to Z, you know. (Sorry, DH, but I didn't want to hog up all the jars we already own!). You can make enough of these oatmeal concoctions to last a few days, so I can still have eggs once in a while. Just not every day. I can live with that.
Lunches - well, we're working on that, too. DH bought a bunch of containers so that we can make up meals over the weekend, pack them in these containers, and lunches are healthy and ready to go. Sounds like a lot of work, but if we're doing this together, then no big deal, right? It might at least be diverting for awhile!
So, if you're in the neighborhood, stop by the Pool - and please, don't be put off by the woman with crazy hair, covered in flour, running around the kitchen and laughing like she's lost her last marble. I'll always hold onto a few for my friends! Maybe there will even be a piece of pie and a hot cup of coffee to share.
Saturday, August 4, 2018
A New Look for the Pool
Greetings, fellow Stress swimmers!
If you stand perfectly still and cup your hand behind your ear, you may hear angelic voices singing. Not just light, harmonious tunes, but all out blaring trumpets! Even through the rain, the sun has smiled down on the Stress Pool this week, and the angels are still hovering overhead, singing and playing trumpets and having quite a party!
It started with Brandon Hudock, a horticulturalist who lives next door to my friend, Cyndy. I met him and his lovely family at her Kentucky Derby party in May, and asked that if he ever had time, perhaps he might stop by and give me an idea of where to go with my backyard. This takes a little explaining.
I have lived in this house for 32 years this June. The backyard is a hillside, which DH terraced with a railroad tie/cement block wall. Well, over the years life happened - and ended - and happened again. In that time, Jumanji took over. Seriously. I've been waiting for the safari hunter to stride out of the woods and weeds any time. Every so often, Ms Business and I would go out and try to conquer nature, but to no avail. (Don't get too philosophical - we literally went out and pulled weeds for hours!) So, one day in June Brandon texts and says he'll be in the area. He stopped, looked, and asked, "What do you want to do here?"
I was truthful - I had no idea. I looked at the overgrown bayberry bush with a very healthy vine growing around it; weed trees; things I couldn't even identify. He pointed out some random, accidental plants that were nice, and which ones were unwanted weeds. (You didn't know that some weeds might be wanted, did you?) "Do you want an estimate?" he asked.
"Sure." What did I have to lose? It could be as little as $100 or the cost of a small house. It was more than $100, but way more affordable than I thought.
Long story short, Brandon and his crew of two took two days to transform the backyard (and the thistle garden in the front of the house) into an oasis of aesthetic pleasure. In fact, Moink looked at the backyard and asked, "Did they build that wall?"
"No," Ms Business said with a modicum of disgust, "Dad built it a long time ago."
Moink will be twenty this October. He's never seen the wall. That says something right there.
Angels broke into song.
Then, today, our friendly neighborhood plumber spent the entire afternoon at our house. We now have no more leaking sinks, a newly installed toilet (that was actually bought for the upstairs bathroom more than fifteen years ago) and new faucets in the kitchen and powder room. And, while he was here, he took a look at the dishwasher.
Another story.
Several years ago, we went to a local box store and bought an LG dishwasher. The old one wasn't doing well, and we decided it needed to be replaced. It worked for two weeks.
I went back to the store (where we'd bought a maintenance plan). I asked to see a manager."We bought an LG dishwasher here two weeks ago. It isn't working; Life is not Good."
"Ha," the manager said, "I see what you did there. That's clever." He also went on to say we had to call LG for them to come out and fix it. That's the arrangement for the first year. Which we did.
"You have too much pressure."
"You don't have enough pressure."
"Let's try a new water pump."
"Your water is too hard."
"Maybe your water is too soft."
"We'll replace the mother board."
It took a month for the LG guy to say he didn't know what was wrong with it, but it definitely wasn't their product. So, there it sat, for years. Mocking us. Taunting us as we stood at the sink washing dishes. It did give DH an me something to do in the evenings.
Until today. Andrew the Miracle Working Plumber figured out what the trouble was (a clog in the intake gizmo), and I am happy to say we did not buy paper plates at the Sam's Club tonight.
Trumpets are still blaring from the heavens.
It really doesn't take much to make us happy at the pool! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sit next to my garden gnome, sip a nice cold iced-tea, and admire the beautiful new sight while listening to the hum of celestial music - or is it the dishwasher? Til next time, and thanks for visiting!
If you stand perfectly still and cup your hand behind your ear, you may hear angelic voices singing. Not just light, harmonious tunes, but all out blaring trumpets! Even through the rain, the sun has smiled down on the Stress Pool this week, and the angels are still hovering overhead, singing and playing trumpets and having quite a party!
It started with Brandon Hudock, a horticulturalist who lives next door to my friend, Cyndy. I met him and his lovely family at her Kentucky Derby party in May, and asked that if he ever had time, perhaps he might stop by and give me an idea of where to go with my backyard. This takes a little explaining.
I have lived in this house for 32 years this June. The backyard is a hillside, which DH terraced with a railroad tie/cement block wall. Well, over the years life happened - and ended - and happened again. In that time, Jumanji took over. Seriously. I've been waiting for the safari hunter to stride out of the woods and weeds any time. Every so often, Ms Business and I would go out and try to conquer nature, but to no avail. (Don't get too philosophical - we literally went out and pulled weeds for hours!) So, one day in June Brandon texts and says he'll be in the area. He stopped, looked, and asked, "What do you want to do here?"
I was truthful - I had no idea. I looked at the overgrown bayberry bush with a very healthy vine growing around it; weed trees; things I couldn't even identify. He pointed out some random, accidental plants that were nice, and which ones were unwanted weeds. (You didn't know that some weeds might be wanted, did you?) "Do you want an estimate?" he asked.
"Sure." What did I have to lose? It could be as little as $100 or the cost of a small house. It was more than $100, but way more affordable than I thought.
Long story short, Brandon and his crew of two took two days to transform the backyard (and the thistle garden in the front of the house) into an oasis of aesthetic pleasure. In fact, Moink looked at the backyard and asked, "Did they build that wall?"
"No," Ms Business said with a modicum of disgust, "Dad built it a long time ago."
Moink will be twenty this October. He's never seen the wall. That says something right there.
Angels broke into song.
Then, today, our friendly neighborhood plumber spent the entire afternoon at our house. We now have no more leaking sinks, a newly installed toilet (that was actually bought for the upstairs bathroom more than fifteen years ago) and new faucets in the kitchen and powder room. And, while he was here, he took a look at the dishwasher.
Another story.
Several years ago, we went to a local box store and bought an LG dishwasher. The old one wasn't doing well, and we decided it needed to be replaced. It worked for two weeks.
I went back to the store (where we'd bought a maintenance plan). I asked to see a manager."We bought an LG dishwasher here two weeks ago. It isn't working; Life is not Good."
"Ha," the manager said, "I see what you did there. That's clever." He also went on to say we had to call LG for them to come out and fix it. That's the arrangement for the first year. Which we did.
"You have too much pressure."
"You don't have enough pressure."
"Let's try a new water pump."
"Your water is too hard."
"Maybe your water is too soft."
"We'll replace the mother board."
It took a month for the LG guy to say he didn't know what was wrong with it, but it definitely wasn't their product. So, there it sat, for years. Mocking us. Taunting us as we stood at the sink washing dishes. It did give DH an me something to do in the evenings.
Until today. Andrew the Miracle Working Plumber figured out what the trouble was (a clog in the intake gizmo), and I am happy to say we did not buy paper plates at the Sam's Club tonight.
Trumpets are still blaring from the heavens.
It really doesn't take much to make us happy at the pool! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sit next to my garden gnome, sip a nice cold iced-tea, and admire the beautiful new sight while listening to the hum of celestial music - or is it the dishwasher? Til next time, and thanks for visiting!
Sunday, July 29, 2018
I Need a Vacation from the Vacation
Greetings from the bottom of the Stress Pool!
"You need a vacation." DH said that several times in the last couple of weeks. We were planning a trip to Wilmington, NC, to be accompanied by Moink and Ms. Business. A few days before leaving, Moink said he didn't think he wanted to go. This often happens - he gets excited for a trip, and then right before leaving, he gets anxious and doesn't want to go. It happened with the Germany trip he took in high school, and before every scout trip he went on with his troop. It happened last week. And, DH wasn't happy. He'd looked forward to our youngest two joining us on vacation, for probably one of the last times. "I don't think I want to go now, but you need a vacation." This sort of scared me. The thought of driving all that distance to an area I'm not accustomed to made the stress meter rise to the highest possible level. "Oh, you're going, no matter what," was my reply.
To our delight, Moink decided to go. All four of us departed at 0 dark-thirty on a Sunday morning, arriving at our destination in Brunswick County at 4:30 in the afternoon. After a lovely dinner next to a marina at Wrightsville Beach, we actually went to look at the ocean. Wait, it gets better.
We get back to the hotel. I say, "Tomorrow looks like our best bet for the beach."
DH: "I don't want to go the beach tomorrow." Famous last words.
We did drive around on Monday, looking at beaches we hadn't been to before. It was a beautiful day. Sunny skies, white fluffy clouds. The kids and I went to the hotel pool that evening. There was a hot tub there, too, much to my delight, and that was quite enjoyable, sitting outside, in the hot tub. Emphasis on outside.
I had no sooner gotten out of the shower when a rumble of thunder shook the walls. Yep. That was the music through the rest of the week. We soon learned what there was to do when you go on an ocean vacation, but it rains. Every day. It wasn't even like we were right next to a beach - there was driving involved. (In case you're wondering, we're scoping out Snow-bird possibilities before the day actually arrives!) Wilmington is, so far, the top runner. So, the one evening we thought it was safe to go in the water - yeah, you guessed it. We were at Carolina Beach for an hour or so when the drops started. No big deal, right? You're wet anyway. Until it begins to pour, and then your towels are soaked as well. Nothing like wet sand - everywhere! I think we brought home half the beach with us!)
It was a busy week - one day the Aquarium at Kure Beach and a ride on the ferry (a first for three of us); a tour of the Bellamy House (an Antebellum Mansion in Wilmington); the Battleship North Carolina another, where we got through the entire battleship just before the skies opened with a vengeance! And, a lot of driving around. Our last evening there, we went on a 90 minute walking Ghost Tour of Wilmington - now, that was fun! Our guide, Anthony, was a wonderful story teller. And, while it was quite humid, it didn't rain. What a beautiful sunset that night on the Cape Fear River.
So many things packed into one partial week. We drove home Friday, getting home around 9:00 that night. Almost 12 hours in the car, and I could still feel the motion as my head hit the pillow!
Two days later, and I am still exhausted.
DH had pointed out people standing on the porches of their rental houses at the beach. "What do they do when it rains, and you can't go out on the beach?"
Well, the idea of vacation isn't lost on me. I know what I would do - sit on the porch and listen to the waves hit the shore. Yeah, I think I could do that for hours, day after day after day...
It was a lot of fun, but I need a vacation from the vacation.
Thanks for stopping by. Did you get away this summer? Bring your photos and your favorite beverage, and we'll bask in the memories of relaxing (?) family vacations. Until next time, enjoy the gorgeous summer days as we move into August. This morning I noticed the sounds and smells of summer triggering those back-to -school thoughts. (Did I really just say that? I do need a vacation!)
"You need a vacation." DH said that several times in the last couple of weeks. We were planning a trip to Wilmington, NC, to be accompanied by Moink and Ms. Business. A few days before leaving, Moink said he didn't think he wanted to go. This often happens - he gets excited for a trip, and then right before leaving, he gets anxious and doesn't want to go. It happened with the Germany trip he took in high school, and before every scout trip he went on with his troop. It happened last week. And, DH wasn't happy. He'd looked forward to our youngest two joining us on vacation, for probably one of the last times. "I don't think I want to go now, but you need a vacation." This sort of scared me. The thought of driving all that distance to an area I'm not accustomed to made the stress meter rise to the highest possible level. "Oh, you're going, no matter what," was my reply.
To our delight, Moink decided to go. All four of us departed at 0 dark-thirty on a Sunday morning, arriving at our destination in Brunswick County at 4:30 in the afternoon. After a lovely dinner next to a marina at Wrightsville Beach, we actually went to look at the ocean. Wait, it gets better.
We get back to the hotel. I say, "Tomorrow looks like our best bet for the beach."
DH: "I don't want to go the beach tomorrow." Famous last words.
We did drive around on Monday, looking at beaches we hadn't been to before. It was a beautiful day. Sunny skies, white fluffy clouds. The kids and I went to the hotel pool that evening. There was a hot tub there, too, much to my delight, and that was quite enjoyable, sitting outside, in the hot tub. Emphasis on outside.
I had no sooner gotten out of the shower when a rumble of thunder shook the walls. Yep. That was the music through the rest of the week. We soon learned what there was to do when you go on an ocean vacation, but it rains. Every day. It wasn't even like we were right next to a beach - there was driving involved. (In case you're wondering, we're scoping out Snow-bird possibilities before the day actually arrives!) Wilmington is, so far, the top runner. So, the one evening we thought it was safe to go in the water - yeah, you guessed it. We were at Carolina Beach for an hour or so when the drops started. No big deal, right? You're wet anyway. Until it begins to pour, and then your towels are soaked as well. Nothing like wet sand - everywhere! I think we brought home half the beach with us!)
It was a busy week - one day the Aquarium at Kure Beach and a ride on the ferry (a first for three of us); a tour of the Bellamy House (an Antebellum Mansion in Wilmington); the Battleship North Carolina another, where we got through the entire battleship just before the skies opened with a vengeance! And, a lot of driving around. Our last evening there, we went on a 90 minute walking Ghost Tour of Wilmington - now, that was fun! Our guide, Anthony, was a wonderful story teller. And, while it was quite humid, it didn't rain. What a beautiful sunset that night on the Cape Fear River.
So many things packed into one partial week. We drove home Friday, getting home around 9:00 that night. Almost 12 hours in the car, and I could still feel the motion as my head hit the pillow!
Two days later, and I am still exhausted.
DH had pointed out people standing on the porches of their rental houses at the beach. "What do they do when it rains, and you can't go out on the beach?"
Well, the idea of vacation isn't lost on me. I know what I would do - sit on the porch and listen to the waves hit the shore. Yeah, I think I could do that for hours, day after day after day...
It was a lot of fun, but I need a vacation from the vacation.
Thanks for stopping by. Did you get away this summer? Bring your photos and your favorite beverage, and we'll bask in the memories of relaxing (?) family vacations. Until next time, enjoy the gorgeous summer days as we move into August. This morning I noticed the sounds and smells of summer triggering those back-to -school thoughts. (Did I really just say that? I do need a vacation!)
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
The Great Purge and Other News
Greetings from the bottom of the Stress Pool!
Before I begin, there is some business from Google that says I must warn you there might be cookies running this blog. Disclaimer: I did not make them, nor did I eat them. You've been warned.
School has been out for two weeks now, and my To-Do list for June has been seriously ignored, mostly by me. We did clean up the back porch and set out the chairs; I did buy and plant day lilies on the back hillside, much to the delight of the resident rabbit! (the weed garden has nicely taken over the rest of the area). But, that's not all that's growing...
DH and I are going to be first-time grandparents this December! Big Brother and DiDi are expecting their first child. There will be a gender-reveal party sometime later this summer. We did gender reveal - we just told people if we knew. Things are so different now! Congrats to the happy couple, and yes, we are excited, and glad to report it has not made me feel older. Warning: I'm going to be one cool Nana! In other news, our family is also growing. Morticia and the Doctor have made it official! We are looking at a little wedding in the future, so our little family also continues to grow by leaps and bounds.
Now, for the Great Purge, from which I am taking a small break. There is a small area in the basement which has been known to my family for years as "The Workroom". There are shelves, an old kitchen table (by old, I mean retro, like from the 50s!), and an odd assortment of junk. This is where I did all my drawing and painting while taking classes to obtain an Art Certification. Many a midnight candle was burned during that time.
The problem comes in that the spiders also like that room. Why wouldn't they? It's small, not much light (enough for when my eyes were younger. Not so much now.) So, DH said, "Why don't you just make the whole family room your studio?"
Wow. This is really what I've wanted for years!
So, I have begun The Purge, which is quite bitter-sweet. Ten years ago, when Eggbert left us for the Hereafter, part of me died along with him. Yes, many things happened in that time - graduations from high school, college; job changes; retirement (DH - not me for quite a while!). And, in those ten years, I've nicely squirreled all of those memories in that room, eventually spilling out into the unused family room. So, the goal by the end of June is to clear it all out and begin making art again.
A couple boxes, some garbage bags, and we're good to go. Easy, right?
Not so much.
Every paper, letter, program, sympathy card (yes, I have only just begun to get rid of them), brings up a forgotten memory, or the face of a person not thought of in what seems an entire lifetime ago. It has been hard (not to mention dusty!). But, since the day is dark and rainy, and it's left-overs for dinner, today is the day. I just needed to take small break, a bit of time to collect my thoughts, sort of a stocking-up on the ammunition needed to finish the job. I think I'm ready to go again.
I also wanted to have the first draft of a current story done by the end of this week, but there is still time - after all, it's only June 27th!
So, as I say goodbye for now, stop on by, dip your foot in the pool, and share your favorite memory!
Before I begin, there is some business from Google that says I must warn you there might be cookies running this blog. Disclaimer: I did not make them, nor did I eat them. You've been warned.
School has been out for two weeks now, and my To-Do list for June has been seriously ignored, mostly by me. We did clean up the back porch and set out the chairs; I did buy and plant day lilies on the back hillside, much to the delight of the resident rabbit! (the weed garden has nicely taken over the rest of the area). But, that's not all that's growing...
DH and I are going to be first-time grandparents this December! Big Brother and DiDi are expecting their first child. There will be a gender-reveal party sometime later this summer. We did gender reveal - we just told people if we knew. Things are so different now! Congrats to the happy couple, and yes, we are excited, and glad to report it has not made me feel older. Warning: I'm going to be one cool Nana! In other news, our family is also growing. Morticia and the Doctor have made it official! We are looking at a little wedding in the future, so our little family also continues to grow by leaps and bounds.
Now, for the Great Purge, from which I am taking a small break. There is a small area in the basement which has been known to my family for years as "The Workroom". There are shelves, an old kitchen table (by old, I mean retro, like from the 50s!), and an odd assortment of junk. This is where I did all my drawing and painting while taking classes to obtain an Art Certification. Many a midnight candle was burned during that time.
The problem comes in that the spiders also like that room. Why wouldn't they? It's small, not much light (enough for when my eyes were younger. Not so much now.) So, DH said, "Why don't you just make the whole family room your studio?"
Wow. This is really what I've wanted for years!
So, I have begun The Purge, which is quite bitter-sweet. Ten years ago, when Eggbert left us for the Hereafter, part of me died along with him. Yes, many things happened in that time - graduations from high school, college; job changes; retirement (DH - not me for quite a while!). And, in those ten years, I've nicely squirreled all of those memories in that room, eventually spilling out into the unused family room. So, the goal by the end of June is to clear it all out and begin making art again.
A couple boxes, some garbage bags, and we're good to go. Easy, right?
Not so much.
Every paper, letter, program, sympathy card (yes, I have only just begun to get rid of them), brings up a forgotten memory, or the face of a person not thought of in what seems an entire lifetime ago. It has been hard (not to mention dusty!). But, since the day is dark and rainy, and it's left-overs for dinner, today is the day. I just needed to take small break, a bit of time to collect my thoughts, sort of a stocking-up on the ammunition needed to finish the job. I think I'm ready to go again.
I also wanted to have the first draft of a current story done by the end of this week, but there is still time - after all, it's only June 27th!
So, as I say goodbye for now, stop on by, dip your foot in the pool, and share your favorite memory!
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Senior Day at the Pool
My BFF took me out for a birthday dinner, and mentioned she hadn't seen a post from the Stress Pool for awhile. Hard to believe how quickly time passes. Not so, though, in Senior Prison. (That's what DH calls it). There, the time drags on and on and on....
Mima has been in a skilled nursing facility for two years now. She can no longer walk, but her mind is still quite sharp - what I always felt would be the worst way to spend one's golden years. My mother-in-law had her health, but suffered from Parkinson's Disease and Alzheimer's. If I had my druthers, if I would become infirm, I think I'd like to lose my mind. DH would say I'm already there. Ah, but I digress. While it isn't far from our house, I set Sunday afternoon aside to spend some quality time with her.
This does not come without some modicum of stress. Some people refer to this as being in the middle - elderly parents on one hand and children still living at home on the other. I call it skirting the edge, mostly because of the dance that goes along with this position.
Getting ready for the visit requires a checklist. Clean laundry; snacks; sausage biscuits (because we don't like the breakfast food they serve, except for pancake day and one other meal), and other assorted items she might call me about during the week.
There are visits that go quite well - we sit and laugh, which is the best medicine ever. I gather up the books she gets from the library through the Blind Association to mail back; water the plants (no, I forgot to bring plant food again); put away the freshly washed laundry; take the few nightshirts she's worn through the week to wash.
Then, there are the visits that don't go quite so well, depending on how her week has gone. If she's had the Agency Aides, hell might as well open the gates and swallow us whole. Those are the days where she quite adroitly points out every flaw of my pitiful existence - to the point where I wonder how I managed to get out of bed and dress myself.
But, I'm getting smarter.
A few weeks ago I brought some new night shirts with cute little sheep and other witticisms. Best thing ever. Today I forgot the puffed corn snack, but brought her some Chinese food - General Tso chicken and rice, to be exact. She even dusted off the pedestal before my climb. If I come bearing presents, life is good. It's very good.
Since I forgot the popcorn, she asked if I would go to the cafe to see if they had any. Ahead of me was an older woman in a wheelchair, headed for the doors. There was no way I would get there before her, and then - the alarm. Some of the inmates wear a bracelet that sets off the alarms if they get too close to the doors. When the alarm goes off, the doors lock. There was no getting out for anyone. The nurse came along, saying, "Sorry - she's been in a weird mood today." She took hold of the handles and pulled her back along the hallway. The older woman glared at me, and unable to actually verbalize what she wanted to say, her vocalization said it all. In a few seconds the doors unlocked, and I was able to continue on the search for popcorn. The trip was unsuccessful.
On my way back to Mima's room, I had to pass the woman in the wheelchair, who had been planted next to the nurse's station, now armed with a roll of small trash can liners. She fixed her gaze on me as I passed, and swatted at me with the roll of plastic in her hand. "I didn't do anything!" I said with a laugh, sidestepping to avoid being hit. An hour later, when I was leaving, she stopped eating long enough vocalize her displeasure at me. I'm certain if she could still speak, she would have unleashed a torrent of swear words. I couldn't help wondering if I hadn't worn the lime green t-shirt...
Guess I'll never know. Just goes to show, if one elder isn't yelling at me, there's sure to be another who will. Dancing on the edge, baby.
You're always welcome at the pool, especially if you want to join me in the dance!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)