College End 2019 - Daughter #2

My kids are coming home for the summer. 

Yep, once again, I'm going to be employed. Back to the SAHM moniker. At least, for three months. I don't remember doing so, but my friend Jim told me I danced around the breakfast restaurant when I announced that a few months ago. Since then, I've not slept. Seriously.

Parenting never ends. My mother told me this, but as I usually did when she offered up tidbits of advice, I listened and discarded or rolled my eyes or did whatever it was I did that WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION FOR MY FUTURE. My girls left the nest, and nothing changed. I still sent money, offered advice, and often said no, or yes, and I always worried. It was just done differently. 

Plus, there was the whole out-of-sight, far-away, can't-control-it-as-easily thing. 

Just thinking about their return gave me sleepless nights. First, I feel for them. Especially the college graduate. Coming back to the nest when you've been out on your own isn't easy. I didn't experience that until way after college, but I remember. 

Secondly, my house isn't large. To use my hall bathroom, you have to bypass one kid's room. I expect that place to have a made bed. How hard is that? Make your bed! Oh, believe me, she will. That's the first rule I'm enforcing. 

Lastly, there is that hall bathroom. It's their shared bathroom, and it's our guest bathroom. IT HAS TO BE CLEAN. That will be rule number two of my enforcement.

Daughter number two is finished, and we moved her out of her dorm last Sunday. It went quite smoothly. Darcy packed, Tom stacked, and the two of them carried while I packed and cleaned. Tom and I headed home alone as she had to finish work and take a final on Tuesday. Tom unloaded the car, and I frantically searched for places in my home to put her crap. Her bedroom was a mess.

She arrived home at 11:32 p.m. The next day she subbed as a PE teacher, and I didn't see her until 8:30 when she joined us at her grandmother's for dinner. Thursday, she was gone all day running errands because she left that night for New York City, where she will catch a plane on Sunday for a study abroad trip to Italy. 

In the day and a half that she slept in our house, it was like a mini Tazmania Devil blew through. I mean, I found dish soap in my library on my bookshelves! What the what?

Her flight to NYC was delayed due to weather. She didn't get into the Big Apple until midnight. Of course, I stayed up until she arrived safely to the NYU dorm, where she was staying with a friend for three nights. That was at 1:30 a.m. Hubby had long gone to bed, knowing I had the parent worry thing under control. 

By the time I climbed into bed, it was after two o'clock, and don't even get me started on the flight to Italy. She landed at two o'clock our time. I had just fallen asleep, so I didn't get that information until I awoke the next day to 20 text messages that, in essence, were about how she was vomiting in the airport and that her professor and the rest of the students were delayed due to more crappy local weather. Daughter #1 was, of course, awake at two o'clock in the morning and so she conversed with her. 

People, I HAVE NOT SLEPT. 

Until last night. Last night I slept fairly decently. Amazing what a great night of sleep will do. Look at me! Blogging! But you know why I slept? Because Daughter #2 is off the grid. I can't reach her unless I pay a fortune in overseas charges, and so until she's somewhere that has wifi, I'm back to the out-of-sight, far-away, can't-control lifestyle. Until she returns. At which time I'll have the first one too. 

I was getting used to retirement, and while I'm thrilled to have my girls home, we are in readjustment mode. It's time to establish rules, stick to my guns, relax, and get some sleep. Simple, right?

Thieves

I have an ant problem, and it's driving me batty. 

The first indication occurred when construction began on the patio, and I found teeny tiny ants walking across my desk--right in front of me, casually waving as they strolled. I killed them. (Sorry, Madison, but they were so minuscule that there was no way I could've trapped them quickly--and I say quickly because of course, I could've set out some trap but then I would've been further distracted from my writing--and released them back into the wild or wherever it is that ants reside.) 

So, I killed them.

With the Clorox wipes that I keep on my desk. 

For four days, I went through a container of those wipes ridding my desk of ants. It drove me insane because I couldn't figure out where they were coming from as both windows were void of the small creatures. I concluded the digging outside both windows had uprooted these critters' nests, and they, in turn, blamed me. Because I didn't see them on Darcy's desk. Or Madison's desk. Or anywhere else in the playroom/office/Steelers Room. 

Eventually, however, my diligence paid off, or they got tired of losing their relatives, and they disappeared from my desk.

Apparently, to move into my kitchen.

I spotted them in the kitchen after, let me say that again, AFTER I devoured a large bite of Easter cake. I was going for a second when I realized the cake was crawling with ants. I gagged for fifteen minutes. Now, if food is left on our counter, we have ants. If food is not out, we have ants. Except in the window or window sill. There are no ants there.

I'm Clorox's biggest fan, but that stuff ain't working.

Today, I turned to the Internet. The ants are either thief ants or pharaoh ants. According to the worldwide web, I'd need to view them under a magnifying glass to determine which one, and while I'd most anything for a blog post, I'm TRYING TO FINISH MY BOOK. 

I don't have time for blogging, let alone an infestation of ants. I have no clue whether they are yellow (pharaoh) or brownish (thief), but I'm leaning more toward the thief ants because one, I think the name fits as they are stealing hours in my day, and two, I dislike what I'm reading pharaoh ants. 

Those suckers have multiple nests, exceeding a quarter million ants, numerous queens, and are hard to control. If I can't get rid of them, they will be with me forever. 

I'm sure these are thief ants.

I read through the multitude of ways to be free of them. I went with a suggestion of sprinkling cinnamon in the area. I'm not sure if these suckers like sweets or how the spice will repeal them, but I've sprinkled cinnamon along the seam in my kitchen counter from where I've concluded they are living.

 This makes me think my kitchen renovation is going to happen sooner rather than later because maybe these countertops are infested. Hey, this could be the upside! 

I'm leaving the cinnamon for an hour to see what happens. It does smell better than the bleach solution, so at least there's that. 

Also, my bug man is scheduled to appear tomorrow. Between him and the Internet, someone should be able to figure this out. Because seriously, I've had ENOUGH. 

Four month 2019 resolution check

Let's see how I'm doing four months in on the resolutions. I rate myself with a scale of 1-10. I work toward a total of 50-50 by the end of the year. While it hasn't happened yet, one never knows...

• Tackle a project once a month - I had a project in March, which of course, carried into April along with January's project. Neither are finished. I did better the first three months than I did in April. I don't think I even looked at either that month. Wait. Let me work some now, and then I can at least give myself something.  Score - 3

• Finish my book, begin editing it, and start writing book #2 - I feel like I always have excuses for why this damn book isn't done, but people, I AM SO CLOSE! I hit a wall in March, and after a two-hour plotting session with my writing guru Madison, I am so near! Getting over the hurdle was huge, and now I know where it is going. I have maybe two more chapters, maybe three left to write. I have had six people read Chapter 1. I write daily now from 10-5; those are my hours. I've turned down lunches and fun activities, and I'm obsessed. I even stayed up until 4:00 a.m. this week because I was on a roll. Plus, I've already started editing due to an editor and an agent visiting our writer's group these past two months. So that counts. And book two is being written in my head. Along with books 3 and 4. Score: 6

• Learn the next step in the writing career (i.e., writing a synopsis, querying an agent, etc.). - Yes! Yes, I have been doing this. Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I hadn't made any of these damn resolutions. But not only have I been working on a synopsis of my book, but our writer's group also discussed querying an agent and working with an editor. So BAM! Score: 9

• Adopt a healthier lifestyle (including eating, exercising, sleeping, and vitamins) - Kept this one going on the eating. I spent most of March walking at least 20 - 30 minutes, but April I didn't do as well. I blame the book. It's consuming me. Score: 5

• Use more Wyndham points this year than last year - Okay, so I've book two Wyndham vacations for May and June! AND, I sold points to my SIL's for May and July. BAM! Score: 9

Total: 32 out of 50. After worrying that I hadn't scored well, I managed to outdo the last check-in, so that's good. Here's to an even better halfway mark!

Twenty-five years

Tom and I just celebrated our 25th anniversary. Twenty-five. Years. Whoa. It doesn't seem that long but when you think that you've been with the same person, outside your parents, for that amount of time it is long. And mind-blowing. Twenty-five years!

I'm terrible at gift-giving. It's probably one of the reasons why I'm late with birthday wishes. I never know what to get people. Sometimes I do. Sometimes it is so easy that I don't have to think about it at all, but that's rare. Now, especially as everyone ages, I rarely don't have any good ideas. I'm to the point that when I see something that someone would like, I grab it now or write it down in my notes app in my phone under gift ideas for people.

When we were first married, and even before, when we dated, Tom was the best gift giver. He always did creative things and came up with fun and romantic ideas. He was big with going the traditional route like the first anniversary is paper, and the twenty-fifth year is silver. I just thought the whole notion of exchanging gifts silly. I mean, we spend each day together. How is a present going to celebrate what we really do every day?

But this year, I was all over it. I figured twenty-five years is a big deal. Look how far we've come! I was determined to get something perfect, and so I started early. I researched ideas. Silver. One year I had a keychain made and engraved, so while that would have maybe worked for twenty-five years, I'd already shot my wad. I didn't really want any other silver in my house. I barely know what to do with the stuff I inherited from my mother. So, eventually lacking creativity, I turned to Amazon. And I found it!

An artist on Amazon paints a tree made of hearts, silver hearts, and perched in the tree are two red birds lovingly staring at one another. In the bark of the tree, she paints either your names or your initials. Sort of like a lovers' carving in a favorite tree with the date. 

Bingo! It was the type of thing that Tom would get me when stopping by an art festival, and so after much discussion with friends and my daughter, I ordered the picture and went with the initials, starting with mine on top. C.M. heart T.B. I was tickled pink. Not only was I ahead of schedule, but I also had picked a winner.

The package arrived in two days. It was a nondescript, slightly larger than 8x10 box and I opened it and danced around the house with joy. I had gotten the ultimate, rare, silver gift without bowing down to a silver engraved item. Now the only question I had was where to put it?

Three days later, my doorbell rang, my dog barked frantically, and I went to the door to find a replica of the package that had been delivered already. It lay on the ground where the Amazon Prime driver had placed it, and the following ran through my head at lightning speed:

• I had not done an excellent job of proofing the tree, but the artist had discovered the mistake and fixed it.
• Amazon messed up my order and somehow sent me another of the same print.

                                    

AND, FINALLY

• Holy shit, Tom ordered the same damn gift!

I checked the recipient's name--Tom. 

I checked the sender's name--same artist. 

I started laughing. 

I laughed until I cried. 

I couldn't help it. That's the story of my life, people. 

It's rare for me to pull off a great one, and just when I thought I'd actually done it, Lucy pulled the football out from under Charlie Brown!

SueG: "Maybe he put his initials first, or maybe he wrote the names instead of the initials. It could be different."

No such luck. We both did the tree the very same way. Tom didn't appreciate the humor at first, but by the time our special day arrived, he got into it. I mean...come on. 

Madison: "Well, you were right! Dad did like it, obviously."

Happy 25th to the man who makes me laugh. 

May we manage to limp along through the next twenty-five!

Easter/Passover 2019

Tom and I spent Easter/Passover at my friend SueG's house. Both girls were at school getting ready for finals and for the end of the year, so we spent Easter morning watching Elliot hunt for eggs. I attended church to celebrate Passover, Earth Day, and Easter, and then I headed over early to help with the dinner preparations.

I was in charge of appetizers and the egg hunt. I had ninety eggs filled with goodies, and each egg had an initial to eliminate one-up-manship. SueG and I hid the eggs. There were so many we quickly ran out of "hidden" hiding spots.

The food was plentiful. The company was entertaining. Even the dog enjoyed himself moving from the kitchen where the food preparations were happening to the table of appetizers in the living room.

The big reveal of the night came with the cake. SueG's SIL had ordered it and picked out a Spring pattern. Our local grocery outdid themselves with that. We spent more time sitting and inspecting the cake then we did in eating it. Very intricate.

Happy Spring Everything!

Five

Once upon a time, my mother was my best friend. After she got really sick, our relationship changed, and since her death, I've struggled with that. It wasn't a good time in my life, and I have a lot of resentment, plenty of bitterness, and so much sorrow. 

For five years, I've tried to analyze--to justify--both of our behaviors without any solution or peace, and as the anniversary of her death grew closer this April, my feelings made it difficult to be me.

There are good memories, but no amount of forcing those to the forefront has helped. The ugly always rears its head to push back against what I'd rather remember. Some days I work so hard to not be who my mother was at the end that I've lost sight of me. 

It's been a lot of floundering, with stomach-churning anxiety that has led to many off-kilter days, and last week I determined it had to end.

I'm a big believer in signs. Sunday, I got one. 

It hit me smack dab in the face when I least expected it, and the tears flowed. 

An olive branch extended if you will, and I took it. 

On Wednesday, the fifth anniversary of her death, I was alone at my MIL's house sitting at her kitchen table. I was supposed to be writing. I was trying, but I sat facing the front window, and spring was outside it, and my mind wandered--to the beauty of the morning, to my mother, and to the calm I'd been feeling since Sunday.

I was abruptly interrupted by a female cardinal on my MIL's birdfeeder. She flew in out of nowhere, while I was in the middle of conflicting thoughts.

It's said that a visit by a cardinal is a message from a lost loved one. I've seen males often outside my house at home, but never a female. This one pecked at the feed, and then her head turned, and she stared right at me in the window. No kidding.

So, I spoke to her. I didn't say aloud everything that's been in my head for five years, but I did tell her it was time to let go, how I needed to move on. 

Forgiveness is a step forward. I forgave me. I whispered what I needed to say to that bird who sat and took it all without flying away. 

And when I finished and wiped my tears, we sat in silence, staring at one another. For quite a while. Then the female was joined by a male cardinal who hopped right up to the window sill and peered inside. 

The three of us had a moment.

Then one by one, they flew away, and I returned to my writing.

Out of the mouths of my babes

Me: "I'm going to ask how much it is to add Darcy to my gym membership for the summer. Would you like to do that too? I told Darcy she needs to work me out. She's like this super gym rat with all sorts of daily workouts."

Madison: "I know."

Me: "I mean, you should see her upper body! She's buff!"

Madison: "I've seen her. Darcy has muscles in places I didn't know there were muscles. And I've taken anatomy!"

Inside/Outside projects 2019

Our Spring projects this year include some inside and outside honey-dos. First on tap indoors, is redoing our master shower. We've been collecting bids for over a year, and finally, hubby had enough. He picked a guy, made some purchases, and we are patiently waiting for the eight week back ordered products. This was done while I was not at home--as my hubby loves to do things when I'm gone--so this redo shower project will be a surprise to me.

Each time we did have a bathroom company come to give us an estimate (when I was home), they wanted to demolish and redo the entire bathroom. The space is small, more a closet than a bathroom, and there really isn't much to do in the area. But companies want to make a huge mess by chipping away and drywalling my tiled walls, and because there is nothing wrong with the tiled walls, I said, uh, no.

The designers shook their heads, and I read their minds: this poor woman doesn't understand the increase of value.

But I do. It's just that I like breathing clean air. The shower will be bad enough.

Our outside projects began first with the screen. Scroll down for those stories if you missed them. Because we did so well with that project, we kept on moving.

Our backyard once held a slab of concrete, a grapefruit tree that mass-produced delicious pink fruit during the season, and an avocado tree that produced one avocado every two years. We eventually redid the back yard, not once, but twice, and it currently houses a pool and screened porch.

Outside the screen, running alongside, we have...mulch. Not grass. Mulch. And some rocks that hubby apparently thought lovely although I've yet to see the aesthetic value. Oh, and my mother's pineapple plants with my own additions from the fruit those plants produced.

It isn't pretty.

Once upon a time, we had grass, but it eventually died in the Florida heat, and hubby refused to replace it because it meant a sprinkler system. I decided this year that I'd had enough and that was all it took for hubby to act. Obviously, it bothered him just as much.

We set about calling patio companies, and the first guy who arrived to give an estimate got the job. He worked for himself, had large muscles that I could observe for writing research, offered up useful advice, and did the job in four days. We now have a lovely outdoor patio and walkway.

I've tried to commission my SIL in Indiana to plant some flowers along the walkway and/or decorate but she has yet to jump on a plane. Apparently, the hubby is set to tackle that project this weekend. Along with changing out the toilet in our bathroom. I've arranged to be gone on Saturday. There will be no blog posts on either of those unless the project flows into Sunday...

Here's hoping that doesn't happen...

Blueberry picking 2019

The blueberry season opened in Florida a couple of weeks ago. The hubby and I got up early on a Saturday and made the hour drive to the nearest blueberry farm, where we split off on our separate way to fill our buckets. Since it was early in the season, we had to work a little harder to get the ripened fruit without destroying the green, but the day was a beautiful one with a slight cooling of temperatures that allowed us to work for over an hour.

It's peaceful out picking. Silence among nature; chirping crickets, buzzing bees, and singing birds. Then there are the parents of toddlers who awake before dawn on a Saturday. I imagine these parents want to wear these kids out with some activity and sunshine so that they'll take naps, but instead of using these little tykes to pick low on the bushes, these parents break the tranquility by shouting. 

Them: "Slow down. Stop! Janey, over here. Joey, don't touch."

One family had their kids loaded in a wagon, and to keep them entertained, just kept feeding them blueberries. I only hoped the kids didn't upchuck blueberries on the way home.

I out-picked Tom. My bucket came to 4.5 pounds while his bucket hovered around 3.9. A total of $42 for all our hard work, but I made two blueberry crumbles, and we shared with my MIL and my friend Jim.

I'll probably send Tom off one more time before the season ends to replenish our supply. The berries should be a tad sweeter by then, although the weather won't be as cool. Hence, the sending Tom part...

And the rest of the story on the screen

I have a weekly Thursday breakfast with a male friend of mine. We meet at the same restaurant at the same time each week and sit in the same booth. Around us are regulars that we've gotten to know enough to stop and chat either when coming or going. Last Thursday, as I headed to my booth, I recognized the man sitting in the booth before me in a hmm-that-guy-looks-familiar-how-do-I-know-him sort of way.

When I sat down, this guy was directly behind me, so my eyes in the back of my head could stare the back of his head. I was very aware that he would hear the story I wanted to tell regarding my screening episode, but as I'd blogged it and put it out on the wide world web, what did I care?

I began my story as only I can tell it, with many DETAILS and EMOTIONS because, hello, it's a story. My friend, who prefers talking to listening, interrupted often, and I know my voice raised several times if only to regain control of the conversation. At some point, the name of the company came up, and shrugging, I admitted I'd forgotten it in all of the brouhahas.

Me: "It begins with an R."

That's when a voice behind me said the name of the company. He was correct, and when I turned so that the eyes in front could meet the eyes in front of him, I saw a business card instead--from a screening company. The guy worked for the screening company THAT WE'D PLANNED TO GO WITH before the slashers appeared. He got out of his booth and stood next to our table, and pretty much gave me what I'd long suspected.

This is a way to get business. Screen Slashing! Who knew? I mean, I'd jokingly said that to the two razor-blade-wielding slashers after we'd all calmed down and were playing nice, and a part of me wasn't joking, but seriously? Are companies that desperate? In hindsight, I wished we'd just let them hightail it off our property. I don't think they did a bang-up job, feel they left out a few pieces of sline and certainly didn't care for their attitude.

Now my fellow Thursday breakfast eater screen guy is coming to check out what needs to be done to finish the job completely. Because boy, can we now see how rotten the old screens genuinely are, and the sheen across the surface of my pool every morning is starting to get old.

Me: "So, if you could just pop on over and slash up the rest of my screens, so we have to replace it sooner rather than later, I'd appreciate it. Mums the word, of course."

I think he thought I was joking...