Yikes! It is true so raise the glass

I was watching some program the other day, and no, I don't remember which one. Currently, I'm watching Game of Thrones, Ballers, Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan, my daily General Hospital, Elementary, The Crown, and Call the Midwife. It's an eclectic mix and hard to keep track. But whatever show it was, one of the characters made a general comment about married folks having nonsensical arguments in a tone that sort of annoyed me. As if all of us married people behaved in the way portrayed on screen.

Too bad I don't remember which show it was because I could go back and raise a glass of wine to drink to that comment. 

Sunday, after a discussion about the ads on my blog that suddenly appeared in record numbers, I asked my computer programming guru husband to fix my said problem. I explained how blogger worked in adding the Google ads, what I had recently done and probably contributed to my issue, and I asked if he had any suggestions.

He had a few, but they weren't helpful. Now, I say that through my vast knowledge of operating my blogger account for twelve years and not from the perspective of a shrew, know-it-all wife. I mean, if I were that type of woman, I wouldn't have asked his opinion in the first place, but clearly, he thought differently. I explained why his two suggestions weren't going to work, my concern in even implementing one of them, and thanked him for his help. He continued to stand behind me, and then he zoomed in on the one thing that I knew he would bitch about if he ever discovered it--

--my cordless phone off the hook.

You know how certain things bug you?--like people not taking turns at a four-way stop? Nothing is guaranteed to set my husband off more than a phone, not on its charger. Oh, and a missing television remote.

The cordless phone sits on a charger on my desk. It is rarely used. Not because it doesn't ring but because we now have Google phone, and while it rings there, it also rings on my husband's cell phone. 

Which he answers more often than when I call his cell phone. 

He usually picks up his cell phone one second before I pick up the home phone to hear a dial tone.

That used to be a trigger for me, but I've just learned not to jump when my phone rings or if I'm in a playful mood, I try to see if I can beat him to it.

But this past week, I knocked the charger on to the floor. It dropped behind my desk--a huge problem because a back is attached to the desk, and I have to crawl under the desk to even reach the charger, and then it is impossible to feed it back up the way it fell without a second pair of hands. The desktop is too wide to use one hand to meet with the other hand threading the charger along the back of the desk.

Immediately, I thought of how annoyed my husband would be to find this charger on the floor. So, I worked very hard to try to retrieve it. I pulled at wires. I attempted to drag it against the wall with a yardstick. I tried tossing it up into the air. 

Nothing worked. 

What I needed was another set of hands, and not having any, I laid down the phone and went back to work. And promptly forgot about the charger except when I sat down at the desk.

Now let's go back to the moment above.

I finally had this man helping me with a problem that had driven me crazy for far too many days, and was pointed out to me by a reader annoyed at the excessive placing of ads. I needed to deal with it, but unfortunately, old hazel eagle eyes zoomed in to the phone NOT ON ITS CHARGER. 

I jumped up at his first comment like a child being reprimanded by his parent.

Tom: "Why is that phone not on its charger?"

Me: "Oh, it fell down behind the desk, and I couldn't reach it. Here, let me crawl down there and hand it up to you. Can you reach that?"

Tom: "How long has it been down there?"

Me: "I don't know. Four days? Three?"

Tom: "Are you kidding me? It's been off its charger for four days? It'll be dead."

Me: "Can you reach this or not?"

Tom: "Yes, I can reach it, but why is it off its charger? The phone will be dead now."

I rolled my eyes metaphorically, not daring to do it where he could see. Had I not answered that question? And yes, I am aware that when something is not on its charger CHARGING, it will eventually die. 

I finally reminded him I had some intelligence after the fourth time of his mentioning the dead phone as he tried to turn it on. He's like that when his certain bug thing is pressed. He can't just let it go. 

He Yammed on and on about the phone, standing at my desk while I went back to my blogger problem. Finally, after insulting my intelligence for the umpteenth time, I lost it too.

Me: "I know that the phone is dead. I've explained how it went down, and we have other phones we can use at this time. The damn phone doesn't even hold a charge much anymore."

Tom: "What do you mean by that? It doesn't work? Then why is it on your desk? Why don't you just unplug it and throw it away? I don't know why we even have a phone."

Me: "It works fine enough."

Tom: "It doesn't work now. It's dead. Because it wasn't on its charger. A phone dies if it isn't on its charger."

Me: "Yes, you've made that point clear if I didn't already know it before."

Tom: "It's a fire hazard."

Me: "What is? A dead phone?"

Tom: "It's not funny. Lightning hits phone lines all the time. It can cause a fire. You should be worried about that."

Me: "Okay, but we have three other phones on chargers too that we need to worry then. Should we throw those away too? I mean, this conversation has gone so far off the rails it's laughable. I just wanted to see if you had any ideas on fixing this problem I was having with my blog."

That just made him crazier. He ranted and raved about how he'd offered up TEN suggestions on how to fix my problem, and I refused to listen. I tried to remain calm, but I may have raised my own voice until finally, he left--after putting the phone on its charger.

By the time he returned from swimming laps, I had solved my blogger problem, and the phone was charged. He came into the office looking a bit contrite and asked if I had solved my problem. It was all thumbs up at hearing I had done so.

Tom: "What are you doing now?"

Me: "Writing about our nonsensical marital argument on my fixed blog."

Tom: "Oh, boy, I'm not going to come out the nice guy, am I?"

I wisely remained silent.

Out of the mouth of someone else's babe

I played cards with my SIL, MIL, and niece when a text message dinged.

Brea: "Daddy said he just got a telescope."

SIL: "Yes, the neighbors were getting rid of theirs, and so we got it."

Me: "Why do you need a telescope?"

SIL: "To see the STARS!"

My SIL said this with the enthusiasm of a young child. I must have eyeballed her because she repeated it again as if I hadn't heard it the first time.

I read the repeat as an inflection that adults do to get a child to love something. "It's BROCOLLI!"

But again, I must have had an odd look on my face. My brain worked overtime to understand my SIL's excitement over a possible viewing of stars in her suburban golf course backyard. Or to know why she wanted her daughter to be thrilled about the acquiring of a telescope. She's never showed an inclination or joy regarding star viewing, and so I honestly was perplexed.

Me: "You can see the stars with your eyes."

Brea: "Let's call Daddy."

Mike: "Hey."

Brea: "What's with the telescope?"

Mike: "The neighbors were getting rid of it, and so I said we'd take it."

Brea: "For what?"

Mike: "To look at stars. It's really nice and expensive."

SIL: "And it was free!"

Brea: "Really? Can we sell it on eBay then and get a bunch of money?"

Hardware Women

My friend SueG is revamping her life. A fresh beginning. Starting over. Part of that required the tossing out of old to allow the bringing in of new. She rented a dumpster, and the four of us, including her teenagers, went to work clearing out tons and tons of the old.

First up was clearing out the drawers and shelves of furniture. We threw away tons and donated bags of items. We took sledgehammers to furniture so it would all fit into the dumpster. I thought this would be a great way to take out some frustration, but alas, my arms were too weak to wield a sledgehammer. I was relegated to picking up the pieces and tossing them into the dumpster. It was great exercise, and my Apple rings were closed daily.

Eventually, little by little, we got rid of the old and concentrated on the new. SueG had a painter colorize the inside of her home. She put in new flooring and bought new furniture, including beds, a kitchen table, a living room set, rugs, and desks. The desks were ordered online, and when they arrived, they needed to be assembled. SueG groaned. I rolled my eyes.

Me: "We got this. Don't you remember our last project?"

SueG: "That's why I'm groaning."

Me: "Oh, please. We made one mistake. We fixed it. This will be a breeze."

Her son Alex and I decided we'd give it a go one afternoon after our homework tutor session. His ability to use a sledgehammer and haul heavy furniture made me decide to use him instead of the groaner. 

We opened the boxes, took out the parts, and I read the instructions while Alex got his toolbox. Most of it required putting dowels into holes, screwing in screws, and punching in cam locks. We rolled right through numbers one and two in the instruction booklet. At number three, we hit a snag. 

It called for us to align the cam locks into corresponding holes on panel B and assemble panel C and E to panel B. We turned the parts the way they were shown in the picture, but we had trouble getting panel B into panel C. 

I suggested we put C on the floor to shove B into place. It worked like a charm, and we tilted the parts back up to match the drawing before moving on to do the same with panel E. 

It didn't work.

It wouldn't go into the cam locks, no matter how hard we pressed. I suggested we turn it over as we had done with C. Before I could get up from my position on the floor to assist, Alex turned it over himself and promptly broke panel C at the two screws.

Alex: "I'm done. You broke the desk."

Me: "I'm not sure how you figure I broke it."

Alex: "You were the one who said, put it down."

Me: "I refuse to take the blame."

Alex: "We need some Gorilla Glue. We don't have any. I say we stop now until we get some."

He was right. We tabled the project for another day. 

The day arrived, and I chose it when the destructive kid was in school. Which left me with the groaner as my assistant. 

We started with panel C from the second desk kit. I figured why not use it to finish at least one desk. We completed the mission, moved on to number four, where I explained the dilemma. Sure enough, SueG and I ran into the same problem. 

At some point, and it could have been hours or just a few minutes, it dawned on me that the cam lock was the issue. These small circular items are about the size of a nickel and are open on one side only, so to get the screw to fit the cam lock, the open side has to be turned for this to happen. 

OH! No wonder our screws didn't fit the first time. 

Who came up with the bright idea to use cam locks? Those things are stupid.

But it was what we had to work with, and so after much turning and turning, we got panel C and panel E on to panel B. Then we breezed through numbers five, six, and seven. Number eight involved attaching the top of the desk to the structure. SueG did this standing while I sat on the floor working the tools.

Again screws had to fit into cam locks--seven screws to be exact, and we only had six cam locks. 

SueG: "Did we put the damn thing on backward? Like we did the TV stand?"

Me: "Do you see a cam lock on your side?"

SueG: "God, dammit! God, dammit! We did it again. I don't care. Take the damn screw out. We aren't starting over."

It made sense, and we finished the desk with one screw left over. 

That reminds me of a joke. Ask me to tell it sometime if you see me. 

We dusted off the desk, put it into its place in the new office area, and left to buy some Gorilla Glue to finish the other desk. We were on a roll.

Me: "Before we buy the Gorilla Glue, let's ask the hardware man what he suggests."

SueG: "There's nothing to ask. We need Wood Glue or Gorilla Glue or something to hold those screws into place."

Me: "But let's ask an expert. There's no harm in asking a hardware man. My dad went to the hardware store every Sunday and trusted everything those men had to say."

Only the person behind the counter of the hardware store was a woman. I'm not going to lie. I had a moment of discontent about that, which was quickly overtaken with disgust at myself. 

I mean, did I really believe a woman couldn't help me? Ugh. Sexism at its worse. 

Quickly recovering, I explained our situation to our hardware woman, who suggested adding toothpicks to our shopping list.

Her: "Dab in the glue with a Q-tip and then add the screw and a toothpick. That will help fill in the now larger hole."

Me: "I'll be damned. What a great idea."

SueG: "You were right. Good thing we asked for help."

Me: "Say that first part one more time."

SueG: "Should I wait for you to record it?"

We bought toothpicks and Gorilla Glue and went home, where I followed the directions of our new hardware heroine, with some trepidation about the glue holding in the screws. 

I've never used Wood Glue or Gorilla Glue, and it seemed too Elmers Glue for me to believe these screws would hold. (Aside: We chose the Gorilla Glue because we liked the company's commercials) After I had completed the task, I realized that I would have to cut down the toothpicks. 

Because it had to hold for twenty-four hours, I put the piece aside and built the drawers. Then I started in on attaching the metal sliders. I was on panel D, when the screw, the tiniest screw every made, fell right into the hole--without me screwing it.

Me: "Are you kidding me?"

SueG: "What? What now?"

Me: "The hole is too big for the screw. God, dammit!"

SueG: "That's it. I'm taking all of this back to Walmart and dumping it on the floor at the entrance."

We discovered the same thing on sister panel E. Two sliders fit. The other hole ate the screw.

I refused to allow her to drive to Walmart with our partially built parts. Instead, I got on my phone and looked up the company. Years ago, when Tom and I built our entertainment center, we had a warped piece, and Sauder nicely mailed us another.

While this company was not Sauder (although our last project, the tv stand, was Sauder), I followed the directions and filled out the form regarding the two pieces. Then, because her teen had discovered a scratch on panel C that very first day, and because I didn't have faith in Gorilla Glue, I went ahead and included it, bringing our replacement count to three.

I took and uploaded pictures to their website, and within five days, we had our replacement panels. 

We began again. I was feeling high. I mean, I had conquered the problem. I had gotten us not only replacement parts for the defective part but also for the panel we had to rig with Gorilla Glue. It took me exactly two minutes before reality set in, and I realized I needed those two screws out of that very panel.

And of course, you know from the foreshadowing that the damn Gorilla Glue said, Not today!  

I couldn't get those screws, or the toothpicks, out. I'm not even sure a sledgehammer would've removed them, and since I couldn't wield one, I didn't attempt it. 

Instead, we left out screw #7 on the top panel like we did on the first desk, and the extra screw from our earlier little debacle was all we needed for job number two.

SueG: "You could get a job as a HARDWARE WOMAN!"

Me: "And I seriously think I just might."

We finished building the damn desk. The cam locks drew the project out for more hours than I cared to spend, having more than enough work still left to do on the house, but by golly, when the kids got home from school, they had desks.

SueG: "Now I'm thinking I should return those lamps."

Me: "Why?"

SueG: "Because we have to put them together."

Me: "Oh, stop whining. It will be a breeze. Look how good we did with these desks!"

Sidebar: We had to return the lamps due to a stripping of the cord during construction. Not admitting defeat, however. We shall try again. We are HARDWARE WOMEN!

Life Scan - part IV - exam and results

I didn't wait long before another stranger called my name. She mispronounced the last word but did get the Cara part right.  I didn't catch it hers if she even gave it. Turns out, she was the Life Scan Advanced Registered Nurse Practioner, but I only know that from the initials after her name on my result sheet. At the time, I had no idea who she was.

She took me into a darkened room where I had to answer questions about my eyesight. I told her I was practically bionic and then gave my cataract sob story. She was good at remaining neutral in her facial features and excitement level. I wasn't sure if she was impressed or not.

I had to stick my eyes into a machine, much like at the DMV, only this test was quite different than any vision test I've had. There were numbers from 1-10, and next to each number was a square box with four circles. One of the rings wasn't closed, and I was told to pick out that circle. I got two attempts. If I guessed correctly, I moved on to the next number. Each square box got smaller and smaller.

Again, the competitive streak that resides in me came to life. I knocked out the right eye with better than 20/20 vision. I was not surprised. Did I not just tell her I was practically bionic? The left eye wasn't as good, but it too scored well. Then she asked about my reading vision. I explained that it depended on the lighting, and then we went back to the machine. This was harder. Those little suckers were teeny. But I scored well. By now, I could tell she was somewhat impressed. Somewhat.

Next up was the hearing test. Now, let me just tell everyone this right now. Long ago, and by that, I mean in my twenties, I was written up in a medical journal for my exceptional hearing. I tell this to my children all the time, and they now quote me when they feel I'm about to spout out this helpful, useful information. It's one of the reasons why they couldn't put anything past me. I could always hear them.

My doctor sent me to an ENT because my ears were always closing up like I was on a 747 every other hour. He did an exam and then sent me into a soundproof room where I had to listen to beeps and raise my hand when I heard the noise either on the left or right sides. I listened to all sorts of beeps at different frequencies, and I was told I had exceptional hearing--like at the level of dogs and other animals. They tested me again to make sure it wasn't a fluke--it wasn't--and then the doctor asked if he could write about me for a medical journal article. It took me longer to sign all the papers for that then it did for him to tell me to take Dimetapp and hold my nose and blow when my ears clogged. End of story.

I didn't tell this to the ARNP until after I came out of the little soundproof booth, where she tested my 53-year-old ears. She told me I scored above my age group, and there were some frequencies I heard that impressed her. See, I impressed her. She marked down normal for both my eyes and ears because there wasn't an exceptional category.

From that room, we went into an examination room where this woman examined me like much like my regular physicals--minus the pap smear--heart, lungs, nose, ears. My right ear was full of wax (good to know why it always clogged after swimming,) and she recommended an ENT or a self-removal wax kit.

I hopped off the table, and she reviewed my Life Scan results. Did I have any questions regarding the ultrasound? I asked about the HUGE cyst on the liver. Again, I got that the lab results were normal, if not perfect. Did I have any pain? A feeling of fullness?

Me: "Could this be the reason I'm fat? Because I have a HUGE cyst growing in my stomach?"
Her: "No."

She didn't find me humorous. Whatever. She told me to discuss the ultrasound results with my practitioner at my yearly physical, got me copies of my HUGE cyst, and put everything into my envelope. I need to watch my intake of fatty foods, monitor my cholesterol, take my medications, and continue exercising. Nothing I didn't already know. My lab results were the same as they had been a year ago because I have those results. I mean seriously, straight across the board. The results were still not in on my CTA, and she told me to call back next week. Then she released me.

What? That was it?

I was hoping for a nutrionalist, but apparently, that is no more? She gathered my paperwork, brought it to me in a large envelope, thanked me, and told me she'd see me again next year.

And just like that, my Life Scan Wellness check was over. I went to my car and read through the results. Mr. Buff Body wrote down in the comment section what I thought was Evil Weeval, albeit misspelled.

I have since reread those results and believe it to be Eval W/VL, which I have no idea about despite multiple Internet searches. I hope it doesn't mean I'm dying. I also discovered my EKG had come back abnormal during the stress test. Yet, no one went over that with me. Erg. I decided to wait to hear back about the CTA.

It was normal--across the board. No blocked coronaries. No stenosis. No major anything. Normal, normal, normal, although not NORMAL. Apparently, that is only used for HUGE.

I'm going to tell people I was NORMAL except for an abnormal EKG, a HUGE cyst, and an Evil W/VL. Next up on the health regime is a colonoscopy and perhaps a visit to a cardiologist. I'm ignoring the cyst until my November yearly well check because it is NORMAL in my Internet research.

After all of my health SnapChats, I heard from people concerned about all these tests. I mean, even my brother called me. That right there? That is HUGE. I obviously need to shake people up a bit to get them to check in with me. But seriously, it was nice to hear from everyone besides the NORMAL SnapChat dailies. Thanks all for loving me. I love you too.

So, now I'm going to finish up the rest of the medical and put my crazy mind to rest. Then I'm going to exercise,  cut down on fatty foods, lower my cholesterol, and get more sleep. Then next year, I'm going to SET SOME RECORDS in the Life Scan Wellness Center.