Another Day

Yup, this is me. At 62. The year’s not been good to me and 63 swiftly approaches… probably on the wings of a big, fat tree roach.

Right after a haircut… and red spot above left eye is where the dermatologist burned something off.

Yes, kids, something else to look forward to as you age, apart from mottled, wrinkly skin and ever-growing ears… people cutting and burning parts of you off… roughly twice a year.

I took this because my dad wanted to see my haircut, which is the same as the prior 2, 479 haircuts. Still.

But another day above ground, as they say, is a good day.

My Poor Mother

Look at those feet!

Though she wasn’t my biological mother, I still want my mommy when sick or hurt. She passed in 2005, but the child inside me never gives up the need for her mama. Much like saying a Hail Mary and asking the holy mother for help… but I mainly call on my mom for… food. Do you think she spoiled me a bit?

I slipped a disc early Monday morning. What did I desire more than anything (other than a new spine)? When the man asked what I needed -he is incredible- my answer stunned: “My mother to rise from her grave and make me a pot of chicken and dumplings”.

Rose could make ambrosia out of dirt. She never taught me how to cook; don’t know why, but at least I’ve picked up a few things. One of them is her recipe (not really; she never needed one) for Custard Pie. Simple, with few ingredients, I crave it sometimes. Today is one of those days.

3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1 pint milk
nutmeg

Mix together and pour into an unbaked pie shell. Bake in 300° oven for 1 hour, or until crust is set.

Guess I don’t have to ask her to rise from the dead today. (That feels blasphemous) But tomorrow I might have a hankering for her Liver and Onions…

The Refrigerator Scandal

A cautionary tale.

On July 8th of this year I ordered a new refrigerator from Home Depot to be delivered and installed in my home.  

As was appropriate, a date was set for delivery. I kept checking the web site and saw that the date changed. This happened TWO more times. I was not called or emailed anything; I had to haunt the site to keep apprised of my numerous delivery dates.  

Finally, I called Tuesday, July 23rd and a woman told me that this time it was really happening! “It was back ordered, but they have yours” she said. Saturday, July 27th my fridge would be delivered!   The appointment slot was between 2:30 and 6:30.

Saturday the old fridge was emptied (again) and everything chucked into coolers. I checked the website with a doggedness born of disappointment – but fearful of it being changed again as the day wore on I called once again… and was told that it was back ordered.   The fourth time was not the charm. As a matter of fact, one person I spoke with reported that the delivery guys wouldn’t even answer their phone. Nice.

HD lost a customer because of either their ineptitude or that of their contracted delivery company.

We heard good things about Brandsmart, so I ordered the same fridge from them and it was installed two days later. How hard was that, really?

This is the fridge we bought.

I love it!! Thank you Brandsmart!

I received nothing for this post; just the pleasure of calling HD out.

What Ifs

…or Nature vs Nurture vs the insanity in our own heads.

I’ve no grand revelations. Not even inspirations. But my brain is full of What Ifs. Those lead to more What Ifs and triggered nightmares. Last night I was in high school and missed one class. Okay, I skipped. Then I found out that my father had come to that class, in full uniform. I had missed him.

And that’s what I did. Missed the auld man… for 61 years.

While we -the husband and I- were there, talking to Dad… still surreal… Mike kept remarking how we are so alike, father and daughter. In some very basic ways, we are. I understand and appreciate nature.

Here’s where the nurture comes in… I’m so different than my half siblings… in so many ways. That has more to do with different mothers; it’s also nurture. What if I’d grown up in his house, with my siblings? Instead of socially awkward I might be adept at interacting with others. Like them, I might have had a wonderful career instead of jobs.

My folks lived through the depression and not in a graceful, Waltons sort of way. Needless to say, it had a profound effect on them and I think they were just happy to keep me fed. College was not mentioned. What I would do after high school? Must have been my responsibility, but I had no idea.

Perhaps I would have turned out the same person if he had raised me, but I keep asking myself “What If?”

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.

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. 😉

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…

 

In Hiding

childSo, here’s a thing.

My biological siblings (paternal) found me. (I was adopted at birth, which isn’t a thing.)

After getting the cold shoulder from my maternal half-sister, this was good news. I was excited. They were excited. We exchanged some info and I’ve spoken to the oldest sister on the phone twice.  After that I wanted to fade into the wallpaper.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re very nice, open people who could have just ignored the DNA results. Instead, they said “Hey, we have a new sister!”

I’m sandwiched in between two brothers. One born barely a year before me, one a year after. Logically, I knew it had nothing to do with me, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed.  That bastard! I know he was in the Navy, but damn.

Add to that all the siblings are highly educated with great careers. Accomplished people. And I’m… well, I’ve done nothing, I’ve made nothing and I am nothing. That’s what keeps cycling through my head, over and over….

Just to add… Oldest sister asked what I do all day and I was stumped. I fritter. Laze. Loll. I am one of life’s lollopers.

So I would like to hide, yes and thank you very much to you. All in all, it’s been a gigantic mindbender.

Yes, I need a Miranda fix.

 

 

 

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