Category: Family

…and no pictures!

That’s how I like to write post titles now, as if the reader has caught me at the end of a sentence. …start talking that way too? ANYhow, we’re back, the man and moi, from Texas. Where I took only one photograph, of the United terminal at IAH. I not only forgot my camera, we were in such a hurry for those four days that there wasn’t much on my mind other than our objectives.

The day before we left Badger was carted to the “Spa” while Bree and Daisy went to the Vet to stay in a “luxury suite”. Too bad for them; we saw it. Mike said it reminded him of a prison cell. Daisy had just undergone oral surgery and since both she and Bree are elderly, the vet seemed the logical, if costly choice. (No worries; everyone has been fetched and at last the pack is complete.)

‘Oh, it’s a big pretty white plane with red stripes, curtains at the windows, wheels, and it just looks like a big Tylenol.’

We flew First class. Yep, Florida crackers go big! When booking I saw that the prices for the First class seats were only $200 different from Business class and of course Mike suggested we go for it. Bucket List item achieved. The differences: We didn’t have to wait a half hour in line with the masses to check our suitcase, just rolled right up to a kiosk and someone helped us immediately. This is where I started to become impressed. Our checked bag was first on and first off and sported a pepper red label marked “Priority”. Nice, right? Also, the walking nightmare (TSA) was a dream, as we again skirted the quivering mob of commoners and walked right through. If you think I’m exaggerating, you haven’t traveled lately. The seats were slightly larger, but my butt still ached thirty minutes in. The food was lovely, though I didn’t eat. I actually didn’t eat while there except for two Kind bars and a small mahi mahi.

The first day we hung with Mike’s sister Deb (one of my best friends). The next morning we rose semi-early for the drive to Galveston to meet my biological father. The man – at 86 – is busier than a centipede at a toe counting contest! Among his numerous other endeavors, he is in charge of the crews who work on the restoration of the vessels at Seawolf Park. The USS Cavalla, an old diesel sub, and an Edsall class Destroyer Escort, the USS Stewart. An all volunteer force, they meet twice a year. He’s not the only Master Chief in attendance, but everyone defers to Mac, in pretty much everything.

We went to dinner at Gaido’s that evening and spent the night at Harbor House, where the myopic managers are apparently too busy to check and see if the rooms are being cleaned – thoroughly. Yeah, I’ve got this thing about mold… and dust. A little dust is understandable, but if it looks as though something hasn’t been touched since the hotel was constructed… no. I wanted to start cleaning, but was exhausted from both meeting my dad and crawling all over the ship.

The next day we went back to the Stewart to visit with Mac, but left in time to return to Houston so I could surprise Anthony (another best friend) on his birthday. One of my favorite moments from the trip!

On the way in – actually, running north on 610 Loop in pouring rain – the driver’s side window wiper blade flew off. Such fun! If I hadn’t had Mike with me to provide some guidance? Whew. At one point I’d made it off onto the feeder and Mike wanted me to get back on 249… I said “Honey, there are just a few times when Texans need to use the feeder road. One is if you’re drunk. Another is if you have a flat. And one is if your damned wiper blade just blew off in the pouring rain!”. We stayed on the feeder.

The next morning we boarded the plane for home. It was a short visit, but memorable… and overwhelming… and an entire dictionary full of adjectives, sorry. The thing was so quick I almost haven’t processed the fact that I sat talking in a room with my DAD!

Wow.

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The Little One is Going

Up, up and away!

It’s been a day.

Well, I’ll start at the beginning. Himself and I are flying to Houston next month to (finally) meet my father. Yes, when I drag something out it gets drug to the limit. Our meeting simply cannot wait any longer, so the plane tickets are booked.

Since we’re unaccustomed to being gone, a trip means about 5,000 different little things need to happen before we leave… among them dog boarding. I figured the best place for boarding my three angels (I’ll let you stop laughing before I go on) would be in someone’s home instead of a kennel, so I set up a Meet n Greet with my selected dog sitters from ROVER dot com for today.

My chosen sitters were two ladies with a great reputation who seemed very nice. Bonus: they only live a few miles away! So, we loaded the girls up, Bree riding with Mike in the Mini and the littles with me in the truck.

When we arrived one of the ladies met us outside and showed us back to the back yard… where there is a pool. To be fair, I knew they had a pool, but assumed (don’t say it!) they’d have a safety fence around it. They did not.

I declined to have the six large barking dogs in the house come out to meet us (!) because for one I don’t know them and two, my dogs were stressed just leaving the house. They never get to go anywhere, poor things.

Would you like to know who fell in the pool first? Yes, it was my elderly Collie, replete with cataracts. She hobbled around and there was no way she wasn’t falling in… fortunately it was near the steps so we got her out without incident. That was followed by Daisy, who couldn’t swim if the debbil himself was chasing her! I let out a high pitched squeal and went in to get her.

Then Bree fell into the deep end and Mike had to dive in to save her! To her credit she can swim, but her limbs aren’t strong enough to extricate that body anymore. That’s when I started cursing. Stress does that to me, like some people come out in hives.

Badger was surprisingly smart enough to stay clear of the water. She was too busy marking all the other dog’s pee spots.

Bree will stay at the Vet’s, Badger at a ‘Spa’ and Daisy? She’s coming with me.

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Entry

New roof, new doors, new windows… but still so much to do inside.

I just like this picture…

…and what we see from the front door.

Could be worse. Could be much, much worse.

But here’s what I want to know… when do you put too much money into a house? There must be a tipping point, at which time you cease to get a return for your investment.

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Siblings

Lisa, Tom, *me, Pat

So, my two sisters and one of my brothers decided to come see me – they flew in Thursday and left this morning. It’s slightly surreal, to suddenly have family.. but a very, very good thing because they’re wonderful people. Warm, friendly, accepting… just the best. I love Tom’s wife as well. She feels like another sister.

There are two brothers and my father to meet, so I’ll do that… sooner rather than later.

*We were rained on while at the beach, so I’m dorky looking and my hair was weird. Add a big mole and put me in the circus!

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Just Hanging Out

‘Lazy’ has been the order of the week. Thankfully all gifts have been purchased and mailed… and the house cleaning came to an abrupt halt after I decided to not give a fig about random piles of dog hair anymore.

It’s liberating.

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Father

My father Saturday after the Veteran’s Day ceremony.

mac112018

This man kills me. I hadn’t had a father since 1978, and suddenly, I did. My emotions are all over the place. When we speak on the phone I giggle like a 5 year old with a feather to her feet. When he writes sweet things in his emails I break down and cry!! I’d like to even off soon…

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The Good and the Bad

This is going to be bad news for someone… or many someones…

badnews

And the good? I’m going to meet my father in November!! We’re both pretty excited, as is Mike. He’ll be there too. It will take place in Galveston, since he’ll be there already and who doesn’t like a road trip?

No, no more panic attacks. 😉

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Panic Attack

smtoiletI had one yesterday. My first. It was horrible and surreal.

This is what precipitated it:

I wrote about my newly acquired brothers and sisters, right? Really wonderful people. I’ve spoken to them on the phone and we’ve emailed facts and such back and forth. I’m lucky they contacted me and even luckier they want me in their lives.

So one of my younger brothers spoke to my biological father – his father – I’ve been bogged down in labels lately – about me. Such as… we not only know about her but we’ve spoken to her and what are you going to do about it?

I don’t know if he chose to blow me off a year ago from disinterest when I told him of our biological relationship or truly didn’t believe it… or… God knows… but he emailed me and wanted to know if I wanted a relationship with him.

After a year of resentment (that I truly did not know was lurking below the surface!) I flipped out. Here he was, asking. There I was, having a panic attack. I had to lie down with Badger (she’s very calming; I don’t know why) and of course fell asleep. When I awoke, it was over and I was able to write back.

He’s been great; telling me about his life and asking about mine… He signs them ‘your father’ or ‘dad’ and that gets me right in the feels. So the last time I wrote back I told him (because I use his name) that I wanted to call him Dad, but every time I think ‘Dad’ I of course think about my Dad. Adopted. See what I mean about labels?

I need some Sleepytime and Badger…

And yes, that really is me on the porcelain. 😉

7

Bed Head

We’ve been through an ordeal: mattress shopping.

I thought it would be a dandy idea to order a bed-in-a-box thing, so tré moderne! The only problem? Either it sucked or we’re too old to sleep on ‘a cloud’, a.k.a. Casper.  My back has never been so bad.

Then we slept on it the next night, just to make sure it sucked. I couldn’t even move yesterday, going from the inversion table to the very firm sofa over and over…

Ironically, we’ll have to jet over to Mattress Firm, which is in financial peril over the bed-in-a-box phenom. Oh, I get it; I’d much rather make this sort of transaction in a detached, sanitized way instead of touching mattresses that dog knows who have lain upon. I’m taking a sheet with me, screw anyone who thinks it too precious!

This is our 20 year old headboard, which I still love.. but I swear I’ll cut it up with a blowtorch should the top of my head ever touch it again.

bedhead

Bad shot, but I wasn’t going into the brush and spiders to take a better one.

Now, my original idea was to take a picture and post it for free on NextDoor… but Arthur opined that it would look good covered in ivy out back.

I think it would be sweet spray painted white(ish), suitable for a teen’s room… but since when do teenagers have king sized beds?

Sigh. I suck at the home decor thing. And now I must find a new mattress and headboard. Pray for me.

EDIT:

It’s the Simmons Beautyrest World Class Resonance Plush! Which felt wonderful in the store and hard as a brickbat last night. We’ll see. The salesman said it would take a few days to feel like it’s supposed to, but I wonder why… Anyway, new bed. I’m exhausted.

Forgot to add:

The guys who picked up the Casper (1-800-Buy-Junk) to supposedly recycle it? They were very forthcoming about how many beds, just in our area, they pick up: A hint? Between Casper, Purple and another he couldn’t remember the name of… they are very busy. LOTS. It must cost the Bed-in-a-Bag people about $100 a pop to manufacture those mattresses; they’re just foam. Then they sell them for $800 and up? Yep, they can afford to give a LOT of people their money back…

 

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