Hampam Trip - Day three - on the road

We hit the nine o'clock mark fairly well. Between waiting for our valet with Yukon XL (Jay: "Good look finding a place to park this baby in San Fran!") and Maya's visit to the corner of Happy and Healthy for a medication retrieval we probably hit the road out of town thirty minutes over give or take several minutes.

Jay drove. Darcy rode shotgun. She gets car sick on long trips thus she slid into that spot after hearing of the winding, twisting roads we would be driving. Maya, Ewan and I took the middle bench and Maddy and Anya rode in the very back. Between us and the trunk full of luggage, those two were pretty much trapped in their row.

Hyampom, or as Anya and Ewan refer to it Hampam, was about a six-hour drive north from San Francisco. The trip was filled with good conversation, several rotations of Apple music playlists, a game of crazy songs, a few naps, various stories, and a host of other nonsense of which I've now forgotten. It was nice to catch up with the cousins and their lives and I liked that we had that opportunity on the front and back end of the trip.

The first leg of the trip was uneventful on a major interstate with some nice views. I felt like I was back in the car on my Ireland trip just soaking in the vast difference of our country and resorted to snapping pictures out of the window. Jay was very much like Tom in that he didn't give a fig about stopping at viewpoints and acting like a tourist. He's done this drive every other year so his mindset was all about reaching the destination. Since he was doing all of the work, much like Tom in Ireland, I only made a few comments here and there. I was very grateful that I was a rider and thus not in charge. I'm content in the role of a follower. Especially when it comes to road trips.

The biggest city near Hyampom is Redding. When people ask me where my aunt lives in Northern California I always give that city as a point of reference even though in my head the city of Redding was rural with about 1,000 people. Turns out I was way off base which explains why those people always nod their heads in the understanding of the direction of Hyampom. Redding is a huge city on the Sacramento River south of California's northern border. It reminded me of our overpopulated county full of people and stores and restaurants. 

Jay stopped at an In and Out Burger joint for Darcy who didn't feel her first meal from there counted. 

The place was packed and we had to stand over people until they finished before we could snag two tables and then we waited hours for our food. A nice In and Out Burger lady trolled the restaurant offering sticker games for entertainment and hats for the kids. I took both. I then sent her in the direction of our kids at their table and told her to make them wear the hats.

Back in the Yukon XL, we did not stop for groceries as was the plan. Jay, via texts with Auntie Marilyn, decided we needed nothing from Redding and so we headed on for the second leg of the trip. The next stop was the town of Hayfork. This was exactly what I had pictured in my head and we stopped at the grocery store for $150 worth of chips and bottles of liquor. The grocery was smaller than the one in the town next to where our farm lies but the similarities were numerous. 

We drove past the clinic where Maya was born and past the school where the children of Hyampom are bused now each morning. There were several businesses and the main center wasn't as spread out as Sullivan, Indiana. More contained into one major thoroughfare. 

From here, the road was everything Jay had described. I bitched a lot about driving the mountains in North Carolina on the winding, twisting roads, but this route gave that route a run for its money. It was paved for a great portion of it but unlike North Carolina with its forests full of lush trees that gave you the sense of security on either side, the fires that have plagued California in the last ten years have left the trees stripped and bare so that we could see down, down, down to where we'd end up if our trip master fell asleep at the wheel.

The devastation that these fires have left is horrendous. Everywhere we traveled we saw it. Forests destroyed. Trees and vegetation gone. Trees standing naked in all their charred glory. Seeing it in person was worse than what we've seen in the media. Much like our own hurricane destruction, the real thing makes you sit back and think. Nature is powerful. I couldn't get over it the entire time I was there. Bless those who fight those fires and protect peoples' homes. Wow.

Because of my bitching interest in photographing some of our drive-by scenery, Jay pulled off the road for me to snap a few pics. He also decided it was a great pit stop for a bathroom break and he disappeared.

Only to reappear in my camera where he scared the shit out of me. The trip master in charge once again!

The pavement eventually turned into a dirt, gravel road. Since I was comparing the "roughing it" side of Hyampom with our farm this was much the same. Then it wasn't. This dirt, gravel road went on and on and on for miles. One side was protected by the mountains and the other, well, suffice it to say that it was smarter to drive in the middle of the road and pray you didn't meet a car coming in the opposite direction. I was told that the county still maintains the roads into and out of Hyampom but I'm not sure how much longer the road will survive as the side heading off the mountain seemed to be wasting away as we drove.

My aunt has lived in a one-room cabin with a loft for most of her life. Maya was raised in that cabin. It was where I visited in 1972 but several years ago she built a big, beautiful house on her property and as we drove the winding, twisty road we got a neat glimpse of it through the burned trees. Everyone told me how you once couldn't even see her house through the forest, but the fires made it possible now to spot the house, her cabin, and the other buildings she has on her property.

I got teary when I saw the house. All my life I've heard the stories of Hyampom. I've gotten the gist of how important this place, this property, is to my aunt and the fact that I was finally going to experience it and see it for myself had me teary. As did the thought of how much sharing this with us must mean to my aunt. I know how much sharing his farm with those he loved meant to my father. I think I know my aunt and her feelings fairly well in regards to family and her property and all of that bunched together with my own feelings just had me very emotional.

There was not the opportunity to discuss this with my aunt. She had a houseful of people upon our arrival and more came after us and if there was anything that I missed in the entire trip it was not having a least a day where I could have just enjoyed my aunt alone. I was able to enjoy the peace and the sanctuary. There were ample opportunities to escape the people and the bustle and energy, but no time really to sit and communicate one on one without interruption. Oh well, just an excuse to visit again!

The rest of the evening was spent with people, liquor, and food. Tons of food. Hordes of people. Plenty of alcohol. Maya's childhood friend and her family come every other year too and they arrived after us with loads and loads of coolers, food, drink, and an endless supply of items that I seemed to need. Neighbors arrived. Oldtimers appeared. We ate and drank and talked and talked and talked. By the time the sun set and people wandered off to their various sleeping arrangments, it was 10:00 p.m. Just on principal I sat alone until eleven writing but then I just couldn't keep my eyes open. It was in the 40's at night so I went to bed in my Steelers sweatpants, pajamas, and both sweater and pullover eagerly awaiting tomorrow's activities.

Hampam Trip - Day 2 - Meet up

Prior to the trip, there were several texts regarding concerns on the rental car and whether or not we had a big enough vehicle to carry seven people plus luggage. Apparently, upon hearing the tale and viewing some of the luggage, the rental agent agreed to the needing of a bigger vehicle. That's how we came to renting the Yukon XL. Cue the music...

Us: (to the tune of YMCA) "It's fun to ride in the YUKON XL. We love to drive in the YUKON XL."

We had a lot of fun with the Yukon XL. More fun than I could possibly portray or give justice to by writing about on this blog. Just know that it came up in daily conversation, that it had a force shield around it, that the amount of room and comfort was off the charts, and that no other vehicle will ever match our experience. Seriously, GMC should snap up our family for a commercial. We could sell the shit out of this vehicle!

We met up with our cousins, Maya, Jay, Anya and Ewan, at the Wyndham. From there, we walked the city. These are people who exercise in some capacity daily. They are city people hailing from Boston and I don't believe that they ever sit or when they do it is very rare. Having said that, I did not reach 10,000 steps. I've never reached 10,000 steps since I've strapped that Apple watch to my wrist and not even the walking cousins could help with that goal. I blame the Wyndham breakfast spiel.

This weekend in San Fransisco was Pride weekend so the city was alive with visitors. We ran various errands and finally hiked to the wharf so that the cousins could meet up with friends of theirs from Boston who moved to this area.

The weather was beautiful. Sunny and in the 70's. For us Floridians, it was perfection. Since we'd all been to the city and done most of the activities we just roamed and eventually split into two different groups for dinner. We left the cousins and their friends and hiked to a restaurant near the Wyndham for dinner. None of us were very hungry but we knew we needed something in our bellies so we ate and then hiked back to run a load of laundry.

Our packing was minimal due to the uncertainty of the rental car so we wanted to make sure we traveled to Hyampom with a suitcase full of clean clothes as my aunt's place is run on solar and a water tank. Jay, our trip master, designated a 9:00 a.m. time to hit the road and since they had traveled all day and gotten up early they hit the sack. We retired to our rooms, packed what we could, and ended the night with excitement for what would come next.

Wyndham Canterbury ownership spiel - my experience and opinion

The next morning Darcy and I made our way down to the $75 breakfast-will-be-great spiel. Points for the flavored creamer. We filled out a made to order omelet paper and when our salesgirl arrived she directed us through the food line which did consist of more delicious food items than other Wyndham spiels. Unfortunately, none of it was hot. Or even warm.

Our salesgirl, and I've already forgotten her name, kept appearing to let us know that she would be right with us in fifteen minutes or so. I'd decided that I wasn't going to be the sweet, let everyone take advantage of me for three hours girl that I normally am in these Wyndham spiels. I had read the email that told me I was only committed to an hour and so I began the countdown upon shaking her hand. Oh, how naive I was.

Fifteen minutes came and went and so I got up and threw out my trash, filled my creamer cup with coffee, and made an exaggerated point of looking at my watch when I knew Salesgirl was watching. She hopped to it. I felt incredibly in charge. She took us away from the fray of salesman chatting at the tables with owners into a private office where she explained she was a bigwig. We learned her background, exchanged pleasantries, and then she went into educating me with information that I already knew writing down bullet points on 8x14 pieces of paper with swirly penmanship and lots of jabs with the pen point. Finally, she devised a quiz and told me not to feel ashamed if I didn't know the answers or got them wrong. This was said somewhat condescending and so I took great pleasure in shutting her down by answering both questions correctly.

Salesgirl: "How did you know that?"

Me: "I learned all of this in my various spiels over the years."

Then I proceeded to turn the tables with some questions of my own, none of which she could answer.

This is part of the frustration of these spiels. I'm told at check-in that I will learn new things and get answers to any questions I might have. Neither of that happens. If it does, it's rare. I get that Wyndham needs to keep selling, but I think unless you are interested in buying more points, etc. there isn't much point in giving people money to waste two hours of a salesperson's time. There has to be a better way. I put some time into thinking of ways while Salesgirl kept talking and decided if I win the lottery, I might buy out Wyndham and revise the whole timeshare market.

I do like Club Wyndham and their resorts and the experience. I do not, however, enjoy this part of things. And even crazier, is that I'd love to speak with someone regarding my ownership but I can't do that unless I'm vacationing at a resort. Right there, is problem number one. They need a headquarters where we can make appointments and get in to discuss our ownership with someone who knows the answers to our questions. Problem number two? I can't purchase a property other than the one that I'm currently vacationing in.

Darcy said I did not behave nicely. She didn't like that after I declined to spend $10,000 to switch my deed to lower my maintenance fee and the lady had left the office to get some paperwork that I opened the door and exclaimed my annoyance to her where others could hear. First of all, the room was deliberately hot and opening the door allowed some circulation. Secondly, the office was in the corner and from where I stood in the doorway no one could hear my mutterings. Lastly, I muttered so that the hidden microphone could pick up my annoyance at having spent longer than an hour with Salesgirl. Who then returned to TRY TO CONTINUE SELLING ME.

Darcy: "At that point, I thought to myself, 'Lady, you deserve the wrath of what this woman is about to lay down on you.'"

But I was conscious of Darcy's lecture and politely declined yet again. I mean, I own the property with my brother. I can't just make decisions without his input so what's the point? I'm upfront with people about this right off. I don't want to waste salespeople's time. I don't. My father was a salesman. I lived that life. Wasting time with someone who can't do anything without the other owner is a complete waste of time and loss of income for the salesperson. Arg. It makes me crazy.

Salesgirl left us for several more minutes at which I stood in the doorway once again and muttered. Finally, I received my $75 visa card from another woman. Most times when I receive my payment, I feel like shit because I the salesperson hasn't earned a damn thing. Plus, I figure I've annoyed them for that very reason and that makes me feel yucky. Truly, there has to be a better way.

Yes, I would like to lower my maintenance fee. Yes, I would like to change my deed so that I can make that happen. No, I won't spend $10,000 to do that. That would be absolutely insane considering all of the money that my mother shelled out for this timeshare back when it was owned by Fairfield. Salesgirl actually spent time teaching me how to make this a profitable business by selling points and putting up my units on vacation sites. Somewhere someone is dropping the ball.

Any takers in buying me lottery tickets? I promise to change this system if I win.

Hampam Trip - Travel Day 1

Jet lag is real.

Traveling to Ireland was terrible, but this flight to California ranks second. It might have to do with my late nights with Madison, but the five a.m. wake-up call and the airport run definitely added to it. Our flight from Florida to Arizona seemed to last forever. I had an aisle seat and took advantage of it more often than I've ever done visiting the bathroom three times just for something to do.

We flew American. I'm a Southwest Airlines woman, but I think the grounding of the Max 73 in March increased the prices on flying west via Southwest for those of us on the opposite coast. But don't quote me on that. I couldn't afford the Southwest flights to CA and American offered the cheapest although not the best schedule thus the early 7:00 a.m. flight.

This aircraft did not offer complimentary beverages but we did get Biscotti which we agreed earned them a thumbs up. We love Biscotti in place of the standard peanuts. Darcy had a little run-in with the stewardess when she attempted a bathroom run. As she stood in the line the seat belt sign went off and the stewardess made Darcy and another woman sit down in some vacant seats and then proceeded to make snide comments when two men then came by and used the now vacant bathrooms.

Her: "See that? Men. They ignore the signs. Typical. Oh well, the world needs less of that sex anyway."

It wasn't a full plane and we had an empty seat between us but I couldn't sleep. Restless. That's all I can say. When we landed we had only a small amount of time before we boarded the second leg from Phoenix to San Francisco. This plane was HUGE. Like international travel size. I felt like I'd walk two city blocks by the time I got to my seat which this time was the middle. Ugh. Darcy had the window and a very nice man from Greece had the aisle. We chatted some and played you take it, no you take it, with the armrest until he gave it up to me like a gentleman. The pilot played tour guide telling us periodically to look outside either to the right side or to the left side at points of interest. No Biscotti on this flight, but we were offered complimentary beverages.

San Francisco was nippy. Having not packed my trusty black sweater on previous vacations, it was the first item to be packed in my travel bag. I also purchased on clearance another wrap with a hood that I also brought with me. Good thing I did this.

Our Uber driver wasn't chatty or particularly friendly especially since Darcy had added a stop to an In and Out Burger drive-thru on the route. It was packed since it was lunchtime and we sat forever before Darcy got her food which she couldn't eat in the car. She ended up eating it cold in the lobby of the Wyndham Canterbury since our room was not ready upon check-in despite the fact that it was 2:00 p.m. and I'm a Presidential owner.

I declined the sales pitch. I was not traveling with my husband. I was not with either of the other two owners. Why would a salesperson even want me? I truly don't get it. But Henrietta worked her magic and convinced Darcy that the breakfast would be topnotch the next morning and so I gave in to the $75 promised and signed up.

Darcy: "This way we avoid having to get groceries we won't even finish by the time we leave."

I blame the jet lag. All I wanted was to lie horizontally on a bed. Instead, we hiked the city in search of a Starbucks. The first one was--are you ready--out of coffee. Not really, but their grinder was broken and thus no coffee. What? That was a first and since there was another on the GPS not far, we hiked to it, caffeinated, and hiked back where we were able to get into our room, the same one that we stayed in last time, and Maddy and I collapsed on the couch while Darcy changed clothes and went to the fitness gym for her daily exercise.

Dinner was takeout that Madison walked to get and we were in bed quite early eager to meet up with the family the next day.

Ratbusters

My MIL called our house on Saturday. Not because she'd fallen and couldn't get up but because she was positive she heard a rat in her house. Screaming. Shrieking. In her attic.

MIL: "It was LOUD!"

She kept emulating the scream every time she gave new information. She even Googled it to make sure it wasn't something else shrieking in her attic...like a ghost. Google told her it was a rat. As did the chewed ceiling tile covering the opening to her attic.

On Sunday, Madison, Tom, and I headed over in our Ratbuster outfits to locate the shrieker and put him out of his misery. Well, to be honest, that wasn't my intention. Madison and I came for the breakfast Tom promised us first and then we came along to motivate him so that he'd continue on the drive to help his mother.

MIL: "I looked all around while the rat made that noise and then I saw the chewed tile in the bathroom so I closed the bathroom door. Then, because I couldn't hear it screaming from my bedroom, I closed that door and slept just fine last night."

I wasn't so sure that the tile had been chewed but I also wasn't one to take a chance that I knew what the hell I was talking about. Tom, on the other hand, didn't even hesitate.

Which sent the MIL off again on the shrieking. With the addition of crazy, waving hands as an accompaniment.

Me: "OMG! What are you doing? You haven't even assessed the situation! Close the bathroom door in case the rat falls out of the ceiling!"

Him: "If it falls, the toilet is right there and he'll drown. You two are funny."

He saw no signs of rats. No droppings. No chewed wires. But because his mother insisted she'd heard what she'd heard...yep, she gave us another rendition...we went to Home Depot for some traps. I made him close the bathroom door before he left. He humored me and did so.

Several people were in the rodent aisle. Many were eyeing a sticky trap which looked to me to be a large piece of sticky paper like a gigantic piece of tape where the rat walked across it and then BAM all four paws were stuck. Like quicksand without the sinking into a hole.

Me: "Yeah, what? Who wants to trap a live rat on a piece of sticky paper? Because it's more humane? How? Are you going to pull the rat off of the sticky mess? Rip it's paws off when you do so? Who's going to handle a rat? That makes absolutely no sense to me. Are you just supposed to throw the entire thing, rat and all, in the trash? How is that humane?"

I said all of this aloud hoping that those who contemplated this trap would fill me in. Instead, no one spoke or looked at me. Two people reached forward and removed the trap to add to their basket. We did not. We got the type of trap where there was no mistaking our intentions.

Rats carry diseases that I'd rather not catch. I'm good with animals out in their own domain which is outside my domain. When they cross over into my domain, I feel it's fair game. Just as they do when I venture into their territory. Hello, silkworms, mosquitoes, lovebugs, and ginormous grasshoppers I'm talking to you. So, Tom went with the trap that carried his name which he has used with success several times.

Me: "I feel like the shrieking rat (cue the MIL) is a rat that wasn't healthy. This is way more humane."

So, up went the hubby and the traps. Up I went. For blogging purposes. I only went as far to stick my head into the hole. I did not see signs of rats. Nor did I hear them.

My MIL has two attics so Tom set traps in both. The other is in the garage and several days prior my MIL had found a baby rat in one of her plastic containers sitting in the garage.

MIL: "I picked it up and threw it outside and then ran inside and shut the garage door."

Tom: "And the rat probably rolled its eyes and went around the side of the house and back into  wherever it is that the rats are using as an entry point into your garage and/or attic."

MIL:

Stay tuned. At some point, someone has to go up there to check the traps. I, for one, will be in CA.

California here we come

The girls and I butted in on our cousin's family trip to visit her mother, my aunt, in California. I haven't been there since I was seven years old. My memories of that trip, a summer car adventure out West, are minimal, and the pictures, which usually jog a few hidden memories, are few because my father the photographer was not with us. All I know is that we are not to expect five-star accommodations. As if I even know what that is... Oh, wait, I am a Club Wyndham owner so I'll take that to mean I'm not getting a deluxe unit.

Cousin Maya: (sighing) "No."

My aunt texted me on Friday.

Marilyn: "I'm freaking that the girls are not going to like roughing it. Not to mention you on the floor on an air mattress. I'm trying like mad to get new water tank filled."

My first thought was that she obviously does not read my blog. Especially the entries where I have slept on an air mattress with a huge bubble in the middle and more recent on the miserable futon. My second thought then was, oh, maybe she has read my blog and then my third thought was, we really should've taken her to the farm.

So, I called her and learned that she and my cousin were stressing out over our lack of knowledge of this place and our apparent high society, snotty, gold-plated expectations of the castles and palaces they seem to believe we are used to. Which led me to rethink all of my first, second, and third thoughts from above.

Madison: "All I require is a toilet."

Marilyn: "We have that."

Me: "All I require is somewhere to clean my body and do my OCD nightly shaving of my legs."

Marilyn: "You shave your legs every night?"

Yep. First thought was correct.

At this point, we learned that my aunt had communicated with Darcy who, upon learning she would be sleeping in a tent, politely requested an upgrade of her accommodations. Madison and I were perplexed that one, my aunt texted Darcy, and two, that Darcy didn't want to sleep in a tent. The whole thing was a tad odd but we said enough that my aunt was more relaxed and reassured of our arrival by the end of the phone call.

Later that night, Madison and I mentioned the phone call and asked what the hell Darcy's problem was in sleeping in a tent.

Darcy: "Okay, well, first of all, Aunt Marilyn's message came on my watch while I was sitting on the lifeguard stand working. And all it said was, can I sleep in a tent? So, I responded with, can I? Yes. And Aunt Marilyn apparently thought that meant I wasn't up to sleeping in a tent because my watch dinged again and she then told me people would be inside on air mattresses but I would be outside in a tent. As if no one else was going to be sleeping outside. Then she said well she supposed I could stay in the cottage down the road with Maddy. So, I'm thinking why am I being shoved out of where ever it is everyone else is sleeping while Madison is partying it up down the road in a fully functioning indoor cottage? Like what did I do to warrant this seclusion? I mean, seriously, let me read you the rest of what she said and you'll see what I'm talking about."

So, she read them and we all laughed and laughed because it really did sound like Darcy was being shoved out the door. Typical Aunt Marilyn messages where you have to know her well enough to read between the lines. Obviously, my kid doesn't, although she said it was because she was busy saving lives and not really paying much attention.

Darcy: "I responded quite nicely I thought. All I said was that I'd prefer to be with everyone else on the air mattresses. I mean, I pictured me all alone in a tent outside in the wilderness just waiting to be snacked on by those foxes she keeps capturing and posting on Facebook!"

And we were off laughing again. Because...well, those messages did sort of sound like that. We caught Darcy up on the true meaning of the messages and that she would be in a tent with the rest of the teens. Which she was more than fine with.

Me: "And she and Maya were worried about the water situation since a water shortage is in CA. She is putting in a large water tank for us."

Darcy: "Yes, I saw the pictures on Facebook."

Me: "Which is apparently why she messaged you. Since you're the only one that uses Facebook. Maddy told her she just needed a toilet and I told her I needed to clean my body daily and shave which I can do just fine in the river. She's still concerned we aren't going to like roughing it and Maya seems to think we aren't going to enjoy not doing anything. She just kept saying that there wasn't much to do there."

Darcy: "Good Lord! Seriously? Have these people seen the farm? Aunt Lorene's house? At least Aunt Marilyn has wifi! I'm not even sure these people know what roughing it really is!"

I'm not sure either, but we're about to find out. And maybe next summer we'll host them at the Mason Farm in Dugger, Indiana.

Swaddling our baby

Elliot is suddenly terrified of storms. It began when our neighbors lit off fireworks a couple of years ago in front of our house. Since then it has escalated with each storm and now that we are in the stormy season in Florida, yikes. Last week particularly was stressful. For him and for us.

The chances of storms were 70% or greater each day. Nothing ever lasts long in Florida, but those minutes or hours? They are heartbreaking to watch. Elliot becomes someone we don't recognize. He whines. Pitiful little noises that come from deep within and he just wants to be near someone. Usually me. One night it was Madison. She was up for several hours with him stroking his fur and whispering assurances. It got so bad that we'd have to drop what we were doing just to comfort him. I began researching comfort vests on Amazon.

SueG: "My friend finally put one of her shirts on her dog when she left the house because he got so anxious when she would leave. Maybe you should try that."

So we did. On a day where the storms came on and off all day. He'd cry at heavy showers. Whine at any thunder. Poke, poke, poke. I couldn't get a thing done. Finally, Madison and I put one of Tom's shirts on him and tied it around his waist. He didn't know what to do. He stood and looked at us pitifully, and then he lay beside where I worked at my desk.

We watched him for a few minutes. No whining. I went back to work. A few minutes later, after another clap of thunder, I turned to see how he'd handled it.

We kept checking on him periodically to make sure he was still breathing and we hadn't killed him. When the storm passed, we took it off of him. The next day we put it back on when it stormed. Immediately, the whining ceased.

My research on this stated that it's like swaddling a baby. Some vets believe that the Thundervest, the first of its kind to be marketed and sold for this issue, hit certain pressure points that released a soothing chemical in the dog's body. The same principals can be used with an ace bandage as well. I haven't put the shirt on properly to accentuate those pressure points, but I've read how to do it so that next time I'm better prepared. Not that the shirt itself hasn't worked thus far.

Eventually, just like the first time we used the shirt, Elliot relaxed enough to sleep. Weird. I can't believe it works but so far so good.

SueG (text): "How did it work?"

I sent her the picture of him keeled over.

Me: "He either is dead or he's relaxed enough to sleep."

SueG: "You're welcome."

Happy Birthday Darcy 2019

My baby turned 20 on the first of the month. As she always does, she planned herself a party that she and her dad executed. We had dinner out with the family on the big day. Her bae spent the weekend. There was a lot of laughter.

This kid. So very proud of the woman she's becoming. Fearless yet fearful and annoyed by it. Strong inside and out. Independent yet comfortable that she's dependent on her family. Respectful and kind to everyone no matter. I love that she's still willing to crawl into my lap for "some loving" like she did when she sucked a pacifier and carried Molly 24/7. 

Two. Zero.

Still my baby though. 

No longer lost

Three years ago, Madison lost her math calculator. I wrote about it HERE. It's worth reading again, and it's a two-second read. Summary...she hid the calculator when we left for vacation.

Madison: "I don't really remember why I hid that specifically. It was sort of because it was worth more than $100, and at that time, at my age, that was a lot of money, so I figured someone would steal that and sell it on the black calculator market. The sad thing is that I left clues on a piece of paper as to where I hid my things like stuff from my purse and my laptop, and I couldn't decipher any of it when I returned. Although I did find the other things, I'd hidden. Just not the calculator."

We have searched for that calculator for three years. If you're a frequent reader of this blog, you know how missing objects, those he deems essential, are a bane of my husband's (Find those entries HERE and HERE), so the missing calculator was just another to add to his list. First, he finds it absolutely ridiculous that one would lose something in the first place and two, he is not buying another. So, we began the hunt. The search, if you will. To no avail.

Thankfully, Darcy had acquired an extra calculator from her math teacher (a story in itself), and so Madison returned to college with the extra. But the missing calculator became one of those family jokes. Anytime we lost or discovered something in the house, the calculator was referred to as well.

Me: "Your dad found the missing telephone."

Darcy: "Was it with Madison's calculator?"

or

Me: "I thought for sure someone had taken my purse."

Madison: "You mean like someone took my calculator."

We've never stopped looking. When I cleaned out the house after Madison went to college, it was the first thing she asked when I told her I'd taken everything out of her closet. Had I found the calculator?

Uh, no.

Then, three years later, while going through Madison's room, closet, and boxes of crap stored in both, she hit the jackpot. I was going through boxes of old clothes from their childhood. I'd hold up an item, she'd say keep or toss, and it would go into the correct pile. She, in turn, was doing the same with her drawers. At one point, she pulled out an old nightgown she'd continuously worn in her youth. We reminisced, then she turned to what had been hidden in the nightgown. Whatever it was had fallen to the floor. 

You guessed it.

THE CALCULATOR!!

All this time, it has been wrapped up in a nightgown covered in monkeys. The scream Madison gave when finding it alerted the entire neighborhood. My answering shriek alerted the community on a block over. I think Tom and Darcy's yelling when we texted the picture probably woke their co-workers. OMG! The calculator.

Darcy: "So, there was no math stealing thief? I was right. No one wants a math calculator bad enough to steal it. Your money? Yes. A calculator for math? No."

Me: "Well, if Madison were a thief, I could see her pocketing it."

Darcy: "Sadly, that is probably the truth."

And sadly, now her days of needing a calculator have come to an end. Guess there's always the black calculator market.

Summer project #1

Madison didn't want to unload until she'd made room in her bedroom and desk for the four years of stuff she'd brought back from North Carolina. This did not get unpacked until Tom finally had enough and did the deed, putting everything into the garage until we could get to it. I only offered to assist with her project to move things along.

I was not much help when it came to hurrying because after Madison left that first year, I rearranged the crap I'd inherited from my mother, and a ton of stuff was shoved into Madison's closet. That meant we had to pull out all of that stuff first. Madison's closet is the biggest one in the house, so just that part alone took up most of one day. Going through those boxes led me to my own closet and more containers, and by the end of the first day, we had four bags of donations and several bags of trash.

Madison's room is still the same motif from when I re-decorated it when she was five. We went from Winnie-the-Pooh to Little Mermaid, and she has been adamant about not changing it. Until now. Seeing as how agreeable she was, I decided during a lull, to start removing the wallpaper border around her room. I'm a wallpaper removal expert. I've removed all the wallpaper in my own house. I removed the wallpaper in my friend's large house after she bought it. I recently removed the wallpaper in SueG's kitchen. A border would be nothing!

Except that is was.

I'm not sure what I used to stick that stuff, but it isn't coming off. NOT. AT. ALL. The backing has adhered to those walls like super glue. I've tried Internet suggestions, including Downy and hot water. I purchased a scorer and spray. I've used razor blades that only succeeded in removing parts of the wall. Nothing is working.

Madison: "This isn't what we're supposed to be doing anyhow, so let's leave that for now."

Only it taunted me. Every time I felt the need to sit and take a break from donating and tossing, I peeled wallpaper. Or tried to. I'd get the top layer off, but the bottom layer was determined not to budge. I became a woman obsessed until Tom's nightly check of our progress irritated me enough to relegate it higher on my list of projects down the road.

Now it taunts me from the list. Summer project #2.