I don't know who reads my blog, aside from my sister, but I'm relatively certain that some people can relate to today's topic: getting organized. I'm 67 years old. It's about time I did that, isn't it? Get organized, I mean? I am one of those happy little procrastinators who sets things aside to deal with later, then days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months....then years...and so it goes. Then, seemingly all of a sudden, the enormity of what I have let go hits me. Do I want to leave this mess for my daughter to deal with after I croak?
When I was still teaching and taking care of my daughter and grandchildren who lived with me, I promised myself that I would take care of the organization stuff when I retired and had more time. Then I did retire--and the bottom fell out of my world. (Awful memories that I do not care to revisit now.) But now, here it is five years later, and I have a whole bunch of loose ends to tie up. In fact, there are so very many loose ends that you can just call me Loose-End Lucy!
For example, I have let junk mail pile up in the house. The last batch--a month's worth while I was up at Megan's--was quite big. Rarely is there anything in it but junk; however, when I started to sort through it last night (finally) I found some important things mixed in. Of course, I can't just throw away the junk. My church gets money from recycled paper, so I bag it all up to take to the church...but then I have to step over the bags until I get it to the car to take there. Right now, there are three bags... Then, too, gals at the church crochet waterproof mats out of plastic grocery bags, so I hang onto those to recycle at church, too. I swear those things breed while they are in my pantry! I have MANY of them in need of a trip to the church, if for no other reason than for me to be rid of them. Until that it sone, it becomes a loose end to deal with.
What to do with the things that aren't junk mail? I set them aside to deal with later...but it's already "later"...so you see what I'm getting at: loose ends. I'm in the process of trying to make files for everything, but my mind wanders. I keep so much stuff for sentimental reasons--or because maybe somebody else can use it--when it really just needs to be pitched. Efficiency experts say "Just touch it once to determine its fate--donate, discard, or save". Easy for them to say!
Here is an example of a loose end thing that drives me crazy. My brother died on the last day of 2005. He was never married and had cut ties with his sisters years before; nevertheless, when he suddenly passed, his sisters were his next of kin. It was up to us to provide a funeral for him, which with did with as much dignity and respect that a brother and military veteran deserved. We had him cremated, as was his wish, and spread his ashes over our family's chosen cemetery (also his wish). But that was nine years ago, as time flies, and now it is time to provide a marker for him. The military provides one, if applied for. Sounds simple enough. Ha! First of all, in order to apply for Doug's marker, we have to have his discharge papers from the Navy...his DD214. Lost to us! Thus, here is the chain of events that I have gone through or will go through just to get the marker:
1. Apply for a copy of the lost DD214. (Done, as of early April. It takes 6-8 weeks to process.)
2. Call the cemetery board to get permission to place a marker on a grave site owned by my family. We need permission because no one in the family seems to have the deeds to the graves, nor does the Recorder of Deeds in Livingston County, IL. (Done back in January or February. The man that I talked to said that he would get back to me in a couple of days. I'm still waiting.)
3. Call the funeral home that did the services for my bro to make sure we haven't forgotten anything. (Done back in January or February, and was assured that I was on the right track.)
4. Once the DD214 is received, apply for the marker from Veterans Affairs. (See #1.)
5. Call the monument company in IL to alert them to receive the marker and have it set, once permission is received (See #2) and the marker has been approved and/or sent (See #1 and 4).
6. Hope for the best!
Having these loose ends hanging over my head drives me insane. I like things tied up in neat little packages, but life just isn't like that. The problem is that there are so many other little processes in the works in my existence that I am begging God not to take me home until I can tie some of those loose ends up! I'm working on it, God. Really, I am!
If this post seems disjointed, it's because it is! I actually have had recurring dreams about just this sort of thing for forty years or more--dreams in which I am sorting through messes to bring order to a new place with beautiful potential. The dream frustration is, however, that I never totally succeed. I don't think we need Sigmund Freud to figure this one out. Loose End Lucy has too much chaos in her life for someone who lives alone and has no one else to blame for it!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Peggy De-Bunker
Television was in its infancy when I was a kid (50s). Homes that had televisions had ONE--black and white--and the technology was rudimentary. Families frequently watched evening and weekend programming together, as did we. Variety shows were all the rage back then. The Ed Sullivan Show comes to mind. Ol' Ed had singers and other musicians, acrobats, jugglers, magic acts--even Elvis Presley. (Oh my!) We all sat in front of the tube, enraptured with the entertainment of it all. Except me. I spent a lot of time saying things like, "I can do THAT." "That's easy." "What's the big deal about that? I can do it, too."
Commercials in those days were all about jingles and happy little sayings...and comparisons. Compare OUR product with the "other" leading brand...but for some reason, the "other leading brand" was never named--as if some law forbade it. That drove my little brain nuts! I sat in front of the television picking apart the commercials for how they could have been faked. It got so bad that my mother started calling me Peggy De-Bunker.
Interestingly, I'm still doing it! People post things on Facebook as if it were truth--things that they've seen or heard but not checked out for validity. Nine times out of ten, checking them out determines that they are either not true or that the whole truth hasn't been told...and that bugs me. Every chance I get, I end up trying to set the record straight. It hasn't endeared me to everyone, but I'm all for "truth, justice, and the American way". (Just call me Superwoman.)
As an example, there is a commercial on local TV for a mattress company that alleges that, if your mattress is over eight years old, it could have gained ten pounds due to sweat, skin cells, and dust mites.
What a load of nonsense! First of all, sweat--which is mostly water and a little salt--evaporates. When the water is gone, all that is left is the salt. If you could collect 100% of your sweat in a jar for your entire lifetime and evaporate all of the water, the remaining salt would be in ounces, not pounds. Skin cells? Hey...I'm an expert skin cell shedder, and I can tell you that each flake of dry skin weighs next to nothing. How many flakes to make a single pound? You probably can't produce that much skin in your lifetime! As for dust mites, those little buggers are microscopic. That means they are too small to be seen with the naked eye. I'm not sure how many microscopic organisms it takes to raise the weight of something, but I'm pretty sure they aren't a factor in the health of your mattress!
But here's the real kicker: I don't know about you, but I have covers on my mattresses and sheets on top of those. I wash those in hot water and bleach regularly. Bye-bye sweat salt, skin cells, and dust mites. Of course, I haven't weighed my mattresses lately. If they've gained weight then they need to go on a diet!
Peggy De-Bunker still exists!
Commercials in those days were all about jingles and happy little sayings...and comparisons. Compare OUR product with the "other" leading brand...but for some reason, the "other leading brand" was never named--as if some law forbade it. That drove my little brain nuts! I sat in front of the television picking apart the commercials for how they could have been faked. It got so bad that my mother started calling me Peggy De-Bunker.
Interestingly, I'm still doing it! People post things on Facebook as if it were truth--things that they've seen or heard but not checked out for validity. Nine times out of ten, checking them out determines that they are either not true or that the whole truth hasn't been told...and that bugs me. Every chance I get, I end up trying to set the record straight. It hasn't endeared me to everyone, but I'm all for "truth, justice, and the American way". (Just call me Superwoman.)
As an example, there is a commercial on local TV for a mattress company that alleges that, if your mattress is over eight years old, it could have gained ten pounds due to sweat, skin cells, and dust mites.
What a load of nonsense! First of all, sweat--which is mostly water and a little salt--evaporates. When the water is gone, all that is left is the salt. If you could collect 100% of your sweat in a jar for your entire lifetime and evaporate all of the water, the remaining salt would be in ounces, not pounds. Skin cells? Hey...I'm an expert skin cell shedder, and I can tell you that each flake of dry skin weighs next to nothing. How many flakes to make a single pound? You probably can't produce that much skin in your lifetime! As for dust mites, those little buggers are microscopic. That means they are too small to be seen with the naked eye. I'm not sure how many microscopic organisms it takes to raise the weight of something, but I'm pretty sure they aren't a factor in the health of your mattress!
But here's the real kicker: I don't know about you, but I have covers on my mattresses and sheets on top of those. I wash those in hot water and bleach regularly. Bye-bye sweat salt, skin cells, and dust mites. Of course, I haven't weighed my mattresses lately. If they've gained weight then they need to go on a diet!
Peggy De-Bunker still exists!
Friday, April 25, 2014
I Don't Make This Stuff Up
One of the local TV channels--Channel 6--has a website that I check every day. They posted a story today about teenagers putting lip balm on their eyelids to help them get high, or stay high, from drugs. According to the story, the kids call it "beezin". At the end of the story is the obligatory warning from health officials that, although lip balm on eyelids might feel good, it can cause eye inflammation and swelling. I suppose laws will now be legislated to regulate the sale of Chapstick.
I read that story and laughed and laughed. Putting lip balm on one's eyelids will only give one greasy eyelids! It's the same story with people who claim that putting Vick's Vaporub on the bottom of one's feet and wearing socks over that at night will stop a cough. Yeah, right. But the funniest part, to me anyway, is the fact that the medical police felt that they needed to weigh in on the topic. Do we really need doctors to tell us things that are common sense issues? How stupid can things get??
When I had a ruptured brain aneurysm, my sister asked the doctors what could have caused it. Instead of answering the obvious (that no one really knows), they asked her if I drank. She said yes, that I drink white wine. Well, then...white wine causes brain aneurysms! This is in the same way that smoking causes ingrown toenails and skin tags. Get it??
I keep shaking my head. As Dr. Phil says, common sense just isn't that common anymore!
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Estimated Bill, Revisited
If you've been reading this blog over the last month or so, you know that my gas bill for February's usage came in at $12-and some odd cents, with a note that bills might be "estimated" due to inclement weather. I decided to outsmart the system and send what I thought would be close to the actual bill in order to avoid a double bill amount for March's usage. You will also recall that February was a bitter-cold month, so I thought I was being wise. (My furnace is gas, as is the water heater and stove. The clothes dryer is electric, so no problem there.) Thus, I awaited March's bill to see what I really owed when it all evened out.
When the March bill came in, it showed that I had used slightly over $100 in "therms", but it showed a credit from the previous month. Thus, I didn't owe anything, according to the bill, but it didn't account for what really HAD been used in Feb. The bar graph showed February usage as ZERO. Still! I called Vectren. They sent out a technician to check on my meter--which was working fine--but he had instructions to give me a new one...which he did. His comment was that he didn't think there was anything wrong with the old meter. That the fault lay with the "contract meter readers" that the company employs. Not my job to monitor their readers, but now I'm curious how they will bill me next month. We'll see, won't we??
When the March bill came in, it showed that I had used slightly over $100 in "therms", but it showed a credit from the previous month. Thus, I didn't owe anything, according to the bill, but it didn't account for what really HAD been used in Feb. The bar graph showed February usage as ZERO. Still! I called Vectren. They sent out a technician to check on my meter--which was working fine--but he had instructions to give me a new one...which he did. His comment was that he didn't think there was anything wrong with the old meter. That the fault lay with the "contract meter readers" that the company employs. Not my job to monitor their readers, but now I'm curious how they will bill me next month. We'll see, won't we??
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Prejudice, and My Shame
I was raised in mostly white communities. Never had much contact with people of color, except for Asians when I lived in Japan (and that did change me). And because I didn't know much about African-American culture, I had no prejudices. Or so I thought.
When I was teaching in a community in the south suburbs of Chicago (1970s), a several-day workshop was sponsored by a Title-Something federal grant about racism. I was about as naive as they come, expecting that everyone could see that I wasn't prejudiced, but I soon learned that, just by nature of the definition of racism, I was automatically labelled "racist" because of my status as a white person in a majority white culture. The whole societal system is based on white mores which makes the likes of me automatically a beneficiary of a racist society...which makes me racist. I rankled a bit about that but eventually came to understand that it didn't have anything to do with my behavior--more about my privileges and the way society looks at me vs. a person of color. I got it.
These days, African-Americans seem to be more accepted while Hispanics are all considered "illegals", whether they are or not, and OMG gays and lesbians will be the death of the US because their "lifestyles" go against the Bible. Huh?? It gets weirder and weirder! Christians and politicians are falling all over themselves trying to figure out what to do about the Gay Factor in our midst. It would be laughable if I didn't catch myself thinking things that just aren't right.
In all my 40 years of teaching, I've had thousands of children in my classroom, and I have done everything in my power to protect them from the ugliness of the world. I can say, mostly, that I could pick out those kids who were gay--mostly guys--with 90% accuracy--who was gay and who wasn't. It was never revealed at the time. Coming out of the closet while in middle school or high school was an invitation to disaster. Fortunately, most waited until they moved on to reveal their sexual identity. I've only been surprised by two...and one of them is recent.
As far as I can tell, only three of my students are lesbians. There are probably more but I'm not sure. The most recent revelation didn't come from a declaration but rather from little clues and things she has posted on Facebook. She was one of my favorites in class--particularly intelligent, particularly creative, and now in college studying in a field close to my heart. It doesn't bother me at all that she's a lesbian, but I wonder why I even mention it.
And that's part of my shame. When I see posts from my students who have been in mixed-race relationships and have bi-racial children, that's the first thing I think of. When I see posts from my gay/lesbian students, that's the first thing I think of. WHY??? Posts from white, straight people do not trigger my thinking about their race or sexual preference, so why should it happen with the others? The old cliche' is proven, I guess, when those of us trying to defend ourselves say, "I'm not prejudiced. Some of my best friends are black (or gay, or fill in the blank)". If race or sexuality were not an issue, we wouldn't even think of it when "those people" pop up in our brains. I treat everyone the same, no matter what, but perhaps because the original definition of racism exists, it must be true--that just being a member of a majority makes me automatically bigoted? Dear, God...I hope not.
I personally believe that one's sexuality--gay or straight--is determined by heredity. (Science is looking into that.) I don't think it is a matter of choice, and I also don't believe that we, as a free society, can legally rob those who want to engage in same-sex marriage just because it isn't the Christian norm. But I am bothered by the fact that my brain has the labels in place. It's not right and it's not fair.
My hairstylist is gay. I've talked to him at length about his sexuality. I still have so many questions! When did you first know you were gay? How has your family received your news? How are you getting along in the world? Who do I need to beat up in order to make your life better???
Can't we all just get along? I am probably the least bigoted of anyone you care to meet, but I'm still guilty of hidden prejudice. "Hello. I'm Peggy, and I'm straight." Really? Do we need these labels to define us????
When I was teaching in a community in the south suburbs of Chicago (1970s), a several-day workshop was sponsored by a Title-Something federal grant about racism. I was about as naive as they come, expecting that everyone could see that I wasn't prejudiced, but I soon learned that, just by nature of the definition of racism, I was automatically labelled "racist" because of my status as a white person in a majority white culture. The whole societal system is based on white mores which makes the likes of me automatically a beneficiary of a racist society...which makes me racist. I rankled a bit about that but eventually came to understand that it didn't have anything to do with my behavior--more about my privileges and the way society looks at me vs. a person of color. I got it.
These days, African-Americans seem to be more accepted while Hispanics are all considered "illegals", whether they are or not, and OMG gays and lesbians will be the death of the US because their "lifestyles" go against the Bible. Huh?? It gets weirder and weirder! Christians and politicians are falling all over themselves trying to figure out what to do about the Gay Factor in our midst. It would be laughable if I didn't catch myself thinking things that just aren't right.
In all my 40 years of teaching, I've had thousands of children in my classroom, and I have done everything in my power to protect them from the ugliness of the world. I can say, mostly, that I could pick out those kids who were gay--mostly guys--with 90% accuracy--who was gay and who wasn't. It was never revealed at the time. Coming out of the closet while in middle school or high school was an invitation to disaster. Fortunately, most waited until they moved on to reveal their sexual identity. I've only been surprised by two...and one of them is recent.
As far as I can tell, only three of my students are lesbians. There are probably more but I'm not sure. The most recent revelation didn't come from a declaration but rather from little clues and things she has posted on Facebook. She was one of my favorites in class--particularly intelligent, particularly creative, and now in college studying in a field close to my heart. It doesn't bother me at all that she's a lesbian, but I wonder why I even mention it.
And that's part of my shame. When I see posts from my students who have been in mixed-race relationships and have bi-racial children, that's the first thing I think of. When I see posts from my gay/lesbian students, that's the first thing I think of. WHY??? Posts from white, straight people do not trigger my thinking about their race or sexual preference, so why should it happen with the others? The old cliche' is proven, I guess, when those of us trying to defend ourselves say, "I'm not prejudiced. Some of my best friends are black (or gay, or fill in the blank)". If race or sexuality were not an issue, we wouldn't even think of it when "those people" pop up in our brains. I treat everyone the same, no matter what, but perhaps because the original definition of racism exists, it must be true--that just being a member of a majority makes me automatically bigoted? Dear, God...I hope not.
I personally believe that one's sexuality--gay or straight--is determined by heredity. (Science is looking into that.) I don't think it is a matter of choice, and I also don't believe that we, as a free society, can legally rob those who want to engage in same-sex marriage just because it isn't the Christian norm. But I am bothered by the fact that my brain has the labels in place. It's not right and it's not fair.
My hairstylist is gay. I've talked to him at length about his sexuality. I still have so many questions! When did you first know you were gay? How has your family received your news? How are you getting along in the world? Who do I need to beat up in order to make your life better???
Can't we all just get along? I am probably the least bigoted of anyone you care to meet, but I'm still guilty of hidden prejudice. "Hello. I'm Peggy, and I'm straight." Really? Do we need these labels to define us????
Alma Mater
Last Saturday, I traveled with my family to Normal, Illinois, to Illinois State University for my granddaughter's Destination Imagination State Competition. I earned my Bachelor's Degree from there in 1969, and my parents both attended, although only Dad graduated. (Mom dropped out to marry him and become our mother!) In fact, Floyd Covill is in the Redbird Hall of Fame for football there!
I went to college for four years at ISU, then lived in Normal for two years after that as my then-husband went on to get his Master's Degree while I supported us with my very first teaching job. We left Normal for the south suburbs of Chicago in 1971. Guess what? ISU and Normal have changed a lot since then!
Seeing my old haunts was a bit of a blast for me. It was a beautiful-but-windy day, but we weren't on a sightseeing mission, so we didn't spend any time going places that used to be... Didn't even walk to the center of the quadrangle; but Robin's first competition was in a building just across the street from my first dormitory experience, and it was kind of neat just to be there. Back in those days, I was a student on foot. (Students were not allowed to have cars on campus, which was okay because I didn't even have a driver's license until I was 21!) It's harder to see things in a car than on foot because of street changes, one-ways, etc. And, of course, there is my inability to walk much that kept us on the straight-and-narrow. I kept pointing out things that I'm sure bored the daylights out of my car mates, but it was all a bit notalgic for me! As the day went on, I saw old places and new places, and sat in Horton Fieldhouse where I once sat watching Robert Goulet in concert so many years ago...
It was a long and interesting day.
I went to college for four years at ISU, then lived in Normal for two years after that as my then-husband went on to get his Master's Degree while I supported us with my very first teaching job. We left Normal for the south suburbs of Chicago in 1971. Guess what? ISU and Normal have changed a lot since then!
Seeing my old haunts was a bit of a blast for me. It was a beautiful-but-windy day, but we weren't on a sightseeing mission, so we didn't spend any time going places that used to be... Didn't even walk to the center of the quadrangle; but Robin's first competition was in a building just across the street from my first dormitory experience, and it was kind of neat just to be there. Back in those days, I was a student on foot. (Students were not allowed to have cars on campus, which was okay because I didn't even have a driver's license until I was 21!) It's harder to see things in a car than on foot because of street changes, one-ways, etc. And, of course, there is my inability to walk much that kept us on the straight-and-narrow. I kept pointing out things that I'm sure bored the daylights out of my car mates, but it was all a bit notalgic for me! As the day went on, I saw old places and new places, and sat in Horton Fieldhouse where I once sat watching Robert Goulet in concert so many years ago...
It was a long and interesting day.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Ryan
Our trip to ISU in Normal, IL (my old Alma Mater, for Robin's Destination Imagination State competition this past weekend) was not devoid of problems. Robin's group left from school on Friday to head down and stay at a motel. The rest of us didn't leave until Saturday morning because Ryan had participated in a lock-in at school and needed to be picked up at 7:00 AM.
Ry and his buddy Isaiah had a pact to see who could stay up the longest. Ryan won, having slept not at all. He was totally pooped when his mommy picked him up. Then we stopped at an IHOP for breakfast. Ryan confessed that he wasn't hungry and would probably only have a drink, but when he got to the table, he ordered a fairly big breakfast: the Rootie-Tootie Fresh and Fruity meal option, with scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, two sausage links, and three pancakes topped with apples, all of which he washed down with a glass of Sierra Mist. He ate most of it. I was amazed.
We all expected Ryan to nod off in the car for the three-hour trip south. He didn't. He was too busy working games on the electronic device that he had in hand. After we arrived in Normal and saw Robin's first competition, we sought lunch. It was probably 1:30 or 2:00 by this time, and we were ready. We ate at Steak 'n Shake. Ryan ordered a foot-long chili cheese dog with cheese fries and a milk shake, and even though I had my doubts that he could/would eat all of that, he did!
After lunch, we had some time to kill before going back to ISU for Robin's next public appearance. It was a beautiful (but windy) day, so we headed for Miller Park where Ryan let off a little steam on the playground equipment--although he seemed too tired to have much steam to let off!
When we got back to the next venue--Horton Fieldhouse on campus--we were probably an hour too early for the awards ceremony but needed to be there for parking purposes. Ryan was good, bless him, even though the adults were getting impatient. (Me!!) After the awards, we left there in order to gather Robin's stuff from the school bus because she was riding home with us. There was some consternation about that because the teacher in charge had said that the bus was going to the mall, but Robin had texted Megan that they weren't. After some backtracking and sending Denis to try to figure things out, we determined that the bus had gone to Jimmy John's for sandwiches before heading north. We found Jimmy John's, the bus, and Robin!
At JJ's, Ryan ate a slim beef sandwich, most of a chocolate chip cookie, and a diet drink. This exhausted 10-year-old had done a stellar job of being patient and well-behaved, and ate most of what he ordered (which is rare). And so we gathered up Robin and headed northward to Chicago after a long day. Robin was still geared up after her excitement. I thought Ryan might sleep...but he didn't.
Robin and I were sitting behind the driver and front-seat passenger, and Ryan was in the bench seat behind us, when Mt. Vesuvius erupted. I heard a cough, then another cough and a large splash. Unmistakable! Everything that Ryan had eaten all day came up all over him and the car! I asked Denis to give me one of the big foam cups that had held their drinks earlier in order to provide a receptacle for anything else that would come out of Ryan's mouth. By this time, Robin had figured things out. She had her hand over her nose and her window rolled down...but the fact is that Ryan was covered in vomitus from the waist down, and the car was blotto! We were probably only 45 minutes from home. There had been no warning from Ry. He's usually pretty good about warnings--even as a very young child--but not this time. All he was saying was, "I'm sorry, Mommy!" We all felt so bad for him!
Meg took the first exit--Touhy Avenue in Des Plaines, IL, and pulled into a gas station. We probably spent at least 45 minutes there, trying to clean up the mess. Stripped Ryan down to his unders and wrapped him in a blanket. Put everything contaminated into a garbage bag. Cleaned up stuff as best we could. (I say "we" but it was Megan and Denis that did the honors.) We finally arrived home at 11:30 PM. Put Ryan to bed on the couch and headed off to bed ourselves.... When Ryan finally went home the next afternoon, his stepmother said, "You threw up after the LAST lock-in!" I suspect that junk food and lack of sleep contributed to the situation and that his lock-in days may be over. We'll see!
Meanwhile, M and D spent the better part of the next day trying to get the vomit smell out of the car.
Ain't life with kids fun??
Ry and his buddy Isaiah had a pact to see who could stay up the longest. Ryan won, having slept not at all. He was totally pooped when his mommy picked him up. Then we stopped at an IHOP for breakfast. Ryan confessed that he wasn't hungry and would probably only have a drink, but when he got to the table, he ordered a fairly big breakfast: the Rootie-Tootie Fresh and Fruity meal option, with scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, two sausage links, and three pancakes topped with apples, all of which he washed down with a glass of Sierra Mist. He ate most of it. I was amazed.
We all expected Ryan to nod off in the car for the three-hour trip south. He didn't. He was too busy working games on the electronic device that he had in hand. After we arrived in Normal and saw Robin's first competition, we sought lunch. It was probably 1:30 or 2:00 by this time, and we were ready. We ate at Steak 'n Shake. Ryan ordered a foot-long chili cheese dog with cheese fries and a milk shake, and even though I had my doubts that he could/would eat all of that, he did!
After lunch, we had some time to kill before going back to ISU for Robin's next public appearance. It was a beautiful (but windy) day, so we headed for Miller Park where Ryan let off a little steam on the playground equipment--although he seemed too tired to have much steam to let off!
When we got back to the next venue--Horton Fieldhouse on campus--we were probably an hour too early for the awards ceremony but needed to be there for parking purposes. Ryan was good, bless him, even though the adults were getting impatient. (Me!!) After the awards, we left there in order to gather Robin's stuff from the school bus because she was riding home with us. There was some consternation about that because the teacher in charge had said that the bus was going to the mall, but Robin had texted Megan that they weren't. After some backtracking and sending Denis to try to figure things out, we determined that the bus had gone to Jimmy John's for sandwiches before heading north. We found Jimmy John's, the bus, and Robin!
At JJ's, Ryan ate a slim beef sandwich, most of a chocolate chip cookie, and a diet drink. This exhausted 10-year-old had done a stellar job of being patient and well-behaved, and ate most of what he ordered (which is rare). And so we gathered up Robin and headed northward to Chicago after a long day. Robin was still geared up after her excitement. I thought Ryan might sleep...but he didn't.
Robin and I were sitting behind the driver and front-seat passenger, and Ryan was in the bench seat behind us, when Mt. Vesuvius erupted. I heard a cough, then another cough and a large splash. Unmistakable! Everything that Ryan had eaten all day came up all over him and the car! I asked Denis to give me one of the big foam cups that had held their drinks earlier in order to provide a receptacle for anything else that would come out of Ryan's mouth. By this time, Robin had figured things out. She had her hand over her nose and her window rolled down...but the fact is that Ryan was covered in vomitus from the waist down, and the car was blotto! We were probably only 45 minutes from home. There had been no warning from Ry. He's usually pretty good about warnings--even as a very young child--but not this time. All he was saying was, "I'm sorry, Mommy!" We all felt so bad for him!
Meg took the first exit--Touhy Avenue in Des Plaines, IL, and pulled into a gas station. We probably spent at least 45 minutes there, trying to clean up the mess. Stripped Ryan down to his unders and wrapped him in a blanket. Put everything contaminated into a garbage bag. Cleaned up stuff as best we could. (I say "we" but it was Megan and Denis that did the honors.) We finally arrived home at 11:30 PM. Put Ryan to bed on the couch and headed off to bed ourselves.... When Ryan finally went home the next afternoon, his stepmother said, "You threw up after the LAST lock-in!" I suspect that junk food and lack of sleep contributed to the situation and that his lock-in days may be over. We'll see!
Meanwhile, M and D spent the better part of the next day trying to get the vomit smell out of the car.
Ain't life with kids fun??
Thursday, April 17, 2014
The Cinderella Contract
As a salaried employee when teaching, I was expected to sign a contract every year. The contract delineated my pay for my responsibilities, both in class and extra-curricularly. Somewhere, in fine print near the bottom, there would be a statement that said something like, "And any other responsibilities that are deemed necessary by the administration". I called that the Cinderella Contract line. Do this; do that; oh...and even though it isn't in your job description, if we need you to do blah-blah, you do it. (You can grieve it later, but good luck with that.)
It has been somewhat of a family joke that, when I visit my family, I become Cinderella, doing the jobs that no one else likes to do. Truly, I am never asked to do them. I just do. I do them to be helpful...to earn my keep while there...because sometimes I think I do them better than anyone else...or just to do something I can do while someone else does something that I can't. Laundry, cooking, dishes and kitchen clean-up, shopping, mending, etc. It's all part of the Cinderella thing.
Once in awhile, I feel abused. Everyone gets up from the dinner table and leaves the dishes as they are. Meg puts the food away, but the dishes sit there until Grandma feels like doing them. That's generally okay with me. The children are trained to take their plates to the sink, but I prefer to scrape them and stack them (takes up less space). I guess it's all about organization...but when we get to the "let Grandma do it" stage, I balk. Thankfully, that doesn't happen very often.
Same thing with laundry. If I mention that I'm ready to do laundry, full baskets appear. I make it easy on myself, knowing that certain things (like towels and bed linen) take up a lot of basket space, so I do them first. Then I sort in order to make the hanging/folding easier on me. In the end, the kids get better service than if they had taken everything to a professional laundry. (I'm also a pro at stain removal and mending tears, etc.) All of it is drone work, but it gives me a purpose other than just taking up space. I like that. I think my hosts do, too!
While I'm tooting my own horn here, I should probably mention that Megan (my daughter) spent the better part of an entire day working on paperwork for me--from cash distributions of retirement accounts to applying for my brother's missing DD214 (military service discharge papers) needed to order him a grave marker. What she did that day--on the phone and online--more than made up for a few cooked meals and a few loads of laundry on my part. Some of it, I had been struggling with for years, and some of it I had just given up on as something that gave me anxiety. Thank you, Meg!
Cinderella eventually won the fair prince. That ain't gonna happen to me, but at least I know that there are rewards for cleaning and cooking and sweeping the cinders off the hearth. :)
It has been somewhat of a family joke that, when I visit my family, I become Cinderella, doing the jobs that no one else likes to do. Truly, I am never asked to do them. I just do. I do them to be helpful...to earn my keep while there...because sometimes I think I do them better than anyone else...or just to do something I can do while someone else does something that I can't. Laundry, cooking, dishes and kitchen clean-up, shopping, mending, etc. It's all part of the Cinderella thing.
Once in awhile, I feel abused. Everyone gets up from the dinner table and leaves the dishes as they are. Meg puts the food away, but the dishes sit there until Grandma feels like doing them. That's generally okay with me. The children are trained to take their plates to the sink, but I prefer to scrape them and stack them (takes up less space). I guess it's all about organization...but when we get to the "let Grandma do it" stage, I balk. Thankfully, that doesn't happen very often.
Same thing with laundry. If I mention that I'm ready to do laundry, full baskets appear. I make it easy on myself, knowing that certain things (like towels and bed linen) take up a lot of basket space, so I do them first. Then I sort in order to make the hanging/folding easier on me. In the end, the kids get better service than if they had taken everything to a professional laundry. (I'm also a pro at stain removal and mending tears, etc.) All of it is drone work, but it gives me a purpose other than just taking up space. I like that. I think my hosts do, too!
While I'm tooting my own horn here, I should probably mention that Megan (my daughter) spent the better part of an entire day working on paperwork for me--from cash distributions of retirement accounts to applying for my brother's missing DD214 (military service discharge papers) needed to order him a grave marker. What she did that day--on the phone and online--more than made up for a few cooked meals and a few loads of laundry on my part. Some of it, I had been struggling with for years, and some of it I had just given up on as something that gave me anxiety. Thank you, Meg!
Cinderella eventually won the fair prince. That ain't gonna happen to me, but at least I know that there are rewards for cleaning and cooking and sweeping the cinders off the hearth. :)
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Catching Up
What started out to be a "couple of weeks" visit to my daughter's in northern Illinois turned out to be just two days shy of a month. I am home now, but I simply can't do justice to all that time away with one post, so the next several posts will have to do with my trip. Let's start with the obvious. I'll add to it as the spirit moves me.
1. First of all, it's a 4-hour trip almost any way you cut it. I do it alone. People that I've talked to say they couldn't take the trip alone. Even my "ex" said he could understand if I didn't want to make the trip by myself. Huh? He's the reason I have to! I didn't ask to be alone in retirement, but I sure wasn't going to complicate my life by taking on a relationship just to have a travel partner. And what's the alternative?? Not to visit my family? I don't think so!! Thus, to occupy my brain, I listen to Q-95 on the radio until just north of LaFayette where it runs out of string, then listen to my favorite Peter, Paul, and Mary tape (both sides, twice) for the middle of the trip, then pick up WLS Radio (same frequency as Q-95) in the Chicago area. On the way up, I always stop at the Lowell rest area to empty my bladder for the Tri-State Tollway. On the way back, I generally don't stop at all. I always keep a medium-sized Diet Coke/Pepsi in the car with me just to provide a caffeine buzz if I need one.
2. I love visiting with my family, but I also love coming home. Unfortunately, the home place is just as dirty when I get back as it was when I left it! Generally, I walk in the door, use the bathroom, set the thermostat to a warmer temp, and seek out things from the car that I will need in the next day or two. Unloading the car tends to be a several-trip job that happens over a couple of days...
3. The difference between "up there" and "down here" is huge. Up there, the grass just greened up a few days ago, just before another snow. Down here, flowers are blooming, grass is green and needs to be mowed...and although there was a snow here, too, it's all gone. (Still saw some up there.) What a difference 200 miles make!
4. My daughter and son-in-law have bought a house. I will go back up there in just over a month to help get them moved as best I can. It's a nice home. They could have bought a bigger one, but the simple fact is that the one they chose will satisfy their needs plus have room for Denis's parents when they arrive from Russia...and even me. I saw it. They will love having a place of their own. Heh heh...upon inspection when I was there, they saw piles of animal dung that was unrecognizable in their yard. A quick search on Google showed it to be deer poop. Deer in their back yard! Love that!
5. No, I won't be with my family for Easter, and I won't be with my family for Mother's Day. But I spent some quality time with them all over the last month which more than makes up for all of that. Megan spent an entire day (and then some) unraveling some of my paperwork about 403b's, VEBA accounts, tax crap, crochet patterns, and other such stuff. She gets an award!
More on my experiences later for those who care to read about them.
And by the way, it feels good to be home in my little house-on-a-slab.
1. First of all, it's a 4-hour trip almost any way you cut it. I do it alone. People that I've talked to say they couldn't take the trip alone. Even my "ex" said he could understand if I didn't want to make the trip by myself. Huh? He's the reason I have to! I didn't ask to be alone in retirement, but I sure wasn't going to complicate my life by taking on a relationship just to have a travel partner. And what's the alternative?? Not to visit my family? I don't think so!! Thus, to occupy my brain, I listen to Q-95 on the radio until just north of LaFayette where it runs out of string, then listen to my favorite Peter, Paul, and Mary tape (both sides, twice) for the middle of the trip, then pick up WLS Radio (same frequency as Q-95) in the Chicago area. On the way up, I always stop at the Lowell rest area to empty my bladder for the Tri-State Tollway. On the way back, I generally don't stop at all. I always keep a medium-sized Diet Coke/Pepsi in the car with me just to provide a caffeine buzz if I need one.
2. I love visiting with my family, but I also love coming home. Unfortunately, the home place is just as dirty when I get back as it was when I left it! Generally, I walk in the door, use the bathroom, set the thermostat to a warmer temp, and seek out things from the car that I will need in the next day or two. Unloading the car tends to be a several-trip job that happens over a couple of days...
3. The difference between "up there" and "down here" is huge. Up there, the grass just greened up a few days ago, just before another snow. Down here, flowers are blooming, grass is green and needs to be mowed...and although there was a snow here, too, it's all gone. (Still saw some up there.) What a difference 200 miles make!
4. My daughter and son-in-law have bought a house. I will go back up there in just over a month to help get them moved as best I can. It's a nice home. They could have bought a bigger one, but the simple fact is that the one they chose will satisfy their needs plus have room for Denis's parents when they arrive from Russia...and even me. I saw it. They will love having a place of their own. Heh heh...upon inspection when I was there, they saw piles of animal dung that was unrecognizable in their yard. A quick search on Google showed it to be deer poop. Deer in their back yard! Love that!
5. No, I won't be with my family for Easter, and I won't be with my family for Mother's Day. But I spent some quality time with them all over the last month which more than makes up for all of that. Megan spent an entire day (and then some) unraveling some of my paperwork about 403b's, VEBA accounts, tax crap, crochet patterns, and other such stuff. She gets an award!
More on my experiences later for those who care to read about them.
And by the way, it feels good to be home in my little house-on-a-slab.
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