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Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2018 1:43 am
by shireling
Okay. I called the cemetery, twice.

There's one person who knows the status of the grave markers, and they're out sick. But they might stop in for a couple of hours, and they might call me, if they do. Now I'm sorry they're ill, but how come there is only one person that can tell me whether or not Phil's headstone is in place? It either is or isn't. It doesn't sound like a legitimate way to run a business, even if all your clients are dead. Anyway, I'm not calling again. Michael will be here to visit in two weeks; we'll go out there to visit then, and see for ourselves.

Ancestry got in touch with me to let me know there's been an upgrade. I have gone from 46% Western European, 39% Eastern European, 6% Southern European, 4% Great Britain, and 3% Ashkenazi Jew, to 58% Eastern European & Russian plus 42% Germanic European. Which means that I lose that last 13% - I'm none of those. So, I called them because I'm trying to figure out how I could lose that last batch of folks. I thought I understood, but tonight, I'm realizing that I can't explain it well enough to myself to explain it to anybody else, so I called them back.

Unfortunately, the site is having issues - it froze when I tried going there - so I'll will try again tomorrow.

In the morning the furniture repair guy is coming to assess our stuff. I'm really in favor of the entertainment center being built anew. I don't know where I'd put all the stuff in the meantime, if he were to carry it out and repair it. So, that's the goal, and that's the most affordable. Otherwise, I just don't see how to do it right now.

I just wanted to stop by and tell you what's happening. I wish I knew more.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2018 3:06 am
by shireling
I tried calling Ancestry again, but they still seem to be having issues.

The furniture repair guy came by. He's quoting us 789.60 for all three living room pieces, which includes the lead for the job and transportation to the shop. Makes sense to me, after all the couch itself was 1,200.00, and this will get us our stuff back in condition that will last the rest of our lives. So, I'm content. Btw, I've decided to leave two dinning room chairs for later, if ever.

I've been having a bit of a problem sticking to the plan. The whole SCOTUS/BS and the very moving 2 hour American Experience about Bobby Kennedy have combined to just wack me right, left and center. Kavanaugh aside, I have never stopped mourning Bobby. I was 14, and 9 when Jack was killed. We were a Catholic family - I remember bringing my rosary to school and praying for him during study hall. I brought my transistor radio with me so that I could listen to updates on his condition. Barack Obama is as close as I've ever come to finding somebody that I could, I don't know. I had such hopes, such hopes. I feel like I'm fourteen again, at the mercy of older class men, and weeping for Bobby. It's the perfect storm. God, I hated my life then.

It's so selfish, I know. He wasn't family, or friend. He left a wife and eleven children, one of them unborn. But everyday, I'm reminded by this lout in the White House just what we'd lost. Of course, Bobby would have been deceased by now; it would have been years ago. But I can't help it. He had grown so much, so very very much, and was poised on the cusp of what I think was greatness. The quote by Aeschylus is one that he learned by heart, and is engraved near his tomb. When he was struggling with President Kennedy's death, his sister-in-law, Jackie, suggested that he read the Greek tragedies. Maybe that's what I ought to do. Truly, nobody else - not any actor, or singer, novelist or poet, had ever captured my heart as he did. It's one coal that keeps its heat; let his name be mentioned, and it kindles to a blaze. I've been to his grave. We went to Washington the following year, and all I remember from that whole trip was Arlington.

Row upon row upon row of marble crosses, standing like bone-white soldiers over the land that had once belonged to Robert E. Lee. I remember when I went to Israel, Jerusalem, Nazareth and Haifa. Again, tombs. Graves. Markers in the shape of chapels and cathedrals cover the places of Christ off the dry, narrow streets. Unlike The Shrine of The Bab on Mount Carmel, and the Tomb of Baha'u'llah in Akka, which are surrounded by gardens of incredible beauty, those are covered by dust. But even these Beauties are graves. I was 22 when I went there, and until I arrived, I could pretend that these Twin Messengers were still walking the earth.

I'm sorry I'm such a bummer. I'll be better tomorrow. Duane is still feeling abandoned by God, and it is unbearable at times to hear him say it. It. makes. no. sense. He's asked me to pray for him, and I'm sorry to say I resent it. I didn't say that to him, but to do this on top of everything else that's required of me, makes me angry. Sure, take care of him, the cat, the home and all of that, besides the car and whatever I can spare for myself, and just add a prayer for him besides my others. It sounds, again, selfish, but it's as if I'm to take care of his spiritual well-being, too, and it's not fair.

I'm tired, and crabby, and sad. I need to brush my teeth, take my meds, say my prayers, :roll: , and go to sleep...'night, joons.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Sep 28, 2018 10:40 am
by shireling
We've accepted the quote and are getting the three living room pieces repaired; I'm not including the dining room chairs. They're going to come and take everything in one go. My only worry is emptying the entertainment center of the TV. I'm scared it might get dropped, but if I remove everything else and just leave that, I might be able to slide the E.C. forward, and take it from the back. We're going to move my bedside table, and put the set there. The turntable could sit on the floor, and the DVR could be put on top of that.

He's going to break the whole unit down when he comes and take it out in pieces. We're talking probably 1,200 bucks at the end (800 the estimate with a bit of padding), but I'm sure that will be the closer to the truth. If it's not, I'll be pleasantly surprised :) . Ben Franklin is quoted as being a pessimist. "Should things turn out for the better," he said - heavy on the paraphrase here - "then, cool!" God, I miss the Founding Fathers.

Anyway, since our box TV is the one and only concern, I'm okay with it.

Today is Dottie's mom's furneral. I need to find out her name. I can't look her up in the obits, unless I'm willing to read all of them to see who had a daughter named Dorothy. That's the problem with women taking the husband's name - you can't find them. It makes sense for the guy's last name to go to the kids, but in future, I think it'll be optional. Well, it might be so now, come to think of it. I may as well admit that I wanted to marry a man who had a better, more pronounceable surname than my maiden, and then I moved to a place where everybody thinks I'm saying 'Dod...' and not 'Daw...' You're digressing again :roll: .

As you can probably tell, I'm better now :) . I followed the whole congressional thing yesterday, and it was better than therapy. I hope Dr. Ford is okay; I could have hugged her. And my heart goes out to the judge's wife and girls. I could have hugged them, too. There aren't any winners in this. But it's quite cautionary, isn't it? You never know when your stupid, sloppy youth will come back to haunt you. When I left school, and hung out with freaks, I never worried about being treated badly and I wasn't.

There's something about dope that made us all equals. I'd be offered, I said no thanks, and they said, okay. It meant more for them. The stuff was, and still is, illegal in most of the country. Why waste it on somebody who doesn't want it? My father was so upset, "They're going to turn you into an addict!" he thundered. Nope. It was to no one's advantage to do that, but I did like weed. The trouble was that it would make me sleepy, and when I woke up, I would devour anything that couldn't defend itself. The horrible, unforgivable munchies. I'm sure I'm still touting a couple of pounds gained at the light of the Garns' fridge; if food was money then, I'd never have gone broke.

But alcohol was different. Alcohol was there to get you drunk, not high. Alcohol could kill you, just from drinking it, while weed could incapacitate you, and the worst that I found, was it would make some folks wax philosophical. I can still hear Tim saying,"Oh God, make it stop," whenever Steve started on his tutorial of Superman to the Flash. Drink could do that, too, but not if you swilled it like water. I went to one party, New Year's of 1973, made myself Tequila and Cokes when the bartender disappeared, and woke up in Marsha mother's bed. I remember her tucking me in, and I know nothing happened; she looked out for me. That was the last time I ever drank. And I'm praying for Duane, like he asked me to. It's not a burden; I'm sorry I thought it was.

That's all, my joons. Have a wonderful weekend.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sat Sep 29, 2018 8:10 am
by shireling
It's 3:45 in the morning...

I'm finally doing the wash. Two days ago the Honey remarked on the fewness of drawers in the drawers and how the hamper wouldn't close. I growled the once, and he backed off. I was bummed, viciously so all this past week, and he should just be thankful for what is still clean. Just three loads; that way I won't be cutting into anybody else's time. Tomorrow I'll finish up with my sheets and the all the towels.

The mass for Mary Lou, Dottie's mom, was beautiful. We were asked three times, which is average, if we wanted communion brought back to us. I think I might have to get a brooch made of the Eucharist, floating above the chalice, and that universal red circle/slash that you see for everything from cell phones to food to guns. That's why I don't go to church anymore, and I would, but for that. I explained to Duane that's why you're supposed to go, the one and only reason for your presence (besides the collection plate) is for that quarter-sized disc that could use a splash of Tabasco, at the very least.

Oh! and speaking of that yummy red bottle of pepper sauce, I made tettrazini for Feast. I asked Rose, our resident vegetarian, if it was okay to use cream of chicken soup and not mushroom in the recipe, and she was okay with it. Rose isn't insane - apologies to those of you who are. She will eat vegetable soup in beef broth, and beans cooked with ham hocks. We had an argument once ages ago, about how she wouldn't eat anything with a face. I insisted that snails should be perfect for her, and she pointed out that having a mouth was consistent with having a face, even if you kept it on your foot. Who can argue with that?

Anyway, it was extremely cheesy - which was commented on between bites, and second helpings - and the small corner that we brought home went to the Honey for his 9 PM repast. You couldn't even taste what little chicken there was for all the Romano/Parmesan, and saute'd mushrooms. The original recipe for two called for turkey, broccoli and 'shrooms, but as long as we're feeding Rose, any recognizable bits of fowl or beast, of any kind, is verboten.

I was never called back about Phil's headstone, but that's all right. We'll be out there a week from tomorrow and see for ourselves. And I sent an email to the furniture repair folk - have yet to hear from them. The timer just chimed. I'd best get to the dryer.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2018 3:46 pm
by shireling
Last night was Trancitus, the eve of the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi.

It was the best one I'd ever attended, and I heard that a lot from people who had been to more of them than I have. There was choir, Father Quigley gave a brief talk about the life of St. Francis. He had been to the church around the corner and spent a whole day on the topic. I was glad for the refresher. There wasn't any communion, so that was easy. But they did pass out 3 x 5 cards with tiny pencils in order to write down what you would like to ask of Francis on his feast day. You fold it in half, put it in the collection basket, and then complete - or incomplete - strangers, pull one out and they pray on behalf of your request.

There's always a few who don't follow directions. They don't fill out the card, or they do and fold it twice, or they tear the card in half so that they get two requests for the price of one, or they aren't specific. I got somebody that did those last two.

Now I asked for prayers for acceptance, recognition and something else - I can't remember now - for the glory of God, because I believe that it is the only thing that will save mankind, and I said all that. I knew what I grabbed was a half a card, I could see that it was, and it said, "Family Issues."

Okay. Family issues. Like marriage difficulties, single parentage, incorrigible children or in-laws or neighbors, dying loved ones, money problems, abuse, addictions, sick pets, battles with insurance companies, cars with ghosts in the engines, houses with poltergeists, jobs that are simply insane - either yours or the peoples close to you. I'm assuming here, it's too broad - family issues. What. thee. hell? Come on, really? And then you had the nerve to make two of these? I can bet that I don't know you. Anyway, I used my Anglican prayer beads, for The Bab's best known and loved prayers. I hope it helps you, F.I. - whoever you are.

But it was an awesome event, nonetheless. Except for the food. Lots of cookies - lots of diversity of cookies. I have never seen so many cookies, and bags of chips. All store-bought, so none of those delightful num-nums of Brother Jacobi's with the almonds. I did manage to grab a bottle of water and two bags of veggie chips. But this was hosted by the guys of the Seraph Friary, so one must make exceptions. I was close to tears a couple times. I know, it was the 1200s and he's just a pile of crumbly bones in the Assisi Basilica, but I like him. I really do like Francis, even love him. And I told Joan that I wanted (B)iscotto (D)e (J)acoba after my name, but she said no - which was what I figured. So, I'm going with (A)mico (S)an (F)rancesco. At least that's how I see me.

Oh Signore, dear Signore, I get you, I really do. I have never felt so close to anybody so far away as you are. *teary* It must have been hell for you. Don't you hate it when nobody listens? When you're dismissed out of hand? I'm sorry, but Innocent was too soft in the cranium, and Cardinal Pelagius was ridiculous. I know nobody does that to you anymore, at least I hope not. But I'm still on this plain, and, boy, I could just punch out the lights of a couple - or several - of those guys.

I wouldn't, of course. I know you would not approve, but I'm sure you understand how frustrated I am for the both of us...Anyway, Happy Feast Day, Signore! Say hi to Clare, Jacoba, Dominic, Leo and Juniper for me.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2018 1:06 am
by shireling
We're getting our new bathroom starting Monday...

I'm looking at what I just wrote. I know the contractor called me today, he's bringing the crew over between 8 and 9 o'clock that morning, and I still don't believe it. It's Michael's room, the one he heads off to whenever he arrives and has to go, so we can't take the stuff out until he leaves Sunday afternoon. They're coming Monday. Next Monday. Not next month, or year - Monday. The 8th of October, 2018. Next week, first weekday of the week. So we've got to get everything we've put in the room out, and someplace else.

I'm stunned. I just am. And I'm happy. I'm just not sure about Amy.

Duane's aboard, so that's 2/3rds of the household, but the cat. She knows absolutely nothing about anything concerning this. The work is going to cut the bedrooms off from the rest of the place, which means her litter box might as well be on the other side of the world. I can move the food dishes into the bedroom, along with her Hello Kitty place mat (it's okay, you can laugh.) I don't think I need to block the cat pass. It's a 7" x 11" hole that I cut into master bedroom door in the summer of 1997, for Tasha. Just used a serrated kitchen knife, easy peasy. I'm certain that all the guys and chaos will make her stay put. Monday *squee*! I can hardly believe it!

If all of her stuff is in the master - along with her litter box, which has always been in that bath - we should be okay. God, Monday...
It's been since 2003; that's when the damage occurred. And I could not get it repaired, especially after the guy upstairs shot his head off with a Ruger American Rifle Compact, .30-06 Winchester. I remember a police woman carrying it downstairs, balancing it on her finger by the strap. He never left a note - that's what his girlfriend said - so I don't know if it was because of the damage done; I did mention it to him the once.

God Almighty.

It's supposed to be accomplished in 10 days, the whole deal. I'll have it in time for my birthday :D. Oh, that's another thing. I called Social Security today. I was on hold for 1 hour and 15 minutes. On November 29th, I will have a appointment over the phone at 10 AM to apply. The first check will arrive in February, if that's what is meant by three months before I want the benefits to begin. Now I just have to figure out what to do about this final year before Medicare. Do I get insurance or not? It will mean self-pay until next October when I turn 65. I will be off my Glipizide by next month; Metformin is another thing, though, as the weight comes off.

Speaking of which, things are moving around. I've needed the clip again for the seat belt, but my chins are down to two. I can't make my bras any smaller though; they're already on the most inside hooks. Undies need taken down a size, too. That's the worst thing about this - clothes. I hate shopping for clothes. Should have been a boy. All of those advantages, like belts for slimming waistlines, and peeing outside - hell, just plain peeing without having to drop the drawers. But I hate beards, and I'd be shaving twice a day. Aw it's just as well, I guess. Anyway, it's coming off and at a reasonable rate.

Well, it's just after 9 PM, and Rachel Maddow's on the tube. Later, joons.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Sun Oct 07, 2018 9:41 pm
by shireling
Michael was here, and we went off to the cemetery first thing.

Well, first thing after two grilled cheese sandwiches for him. It's so warm and muggy - this is October? Anyway, we bought a bouquet of fall flowers - Mike picked it out - and saw that Phil's stone is in place. It's the same size as Lloyd's, but it's black and the lettering covers the entire thing. There's no apostrophe in BAHAI, which we had told them about - it should be between the last A and the I (Baha'i) - but it's beautiful, and the star has nine points (at least I think so - I didn't count, but the graphic did.) We said prayers, and sang, "Allah'u'Abha"; Duane and Renee put the flowers into the vase, which appears to be cracking at the base :( . But it'll do for the current bunch.

I don't know why I decided to drive us down to the Farmer's Market. It was taken over last year by a new family, and we were able to grab a gallon of cider. It was wonderful to find it so busy, and I told the cashier so. I'd been bringing Mike out there since he was small, and now they have U Pick, a petting zoo (mostly goats, who doesn't love goats?), some playground equipment for the little bitty ones, and, where there used to be a section for craft items and souvenirs, there's a proper number of tables and chairs for eats. The bakery was amazing. Pies from apple to rhubarb, cookie sandwiches (dark chocolate and toll house biggies stuffed with cream), cream horns, apple fritters. Bushels of apples, caramel apples (plain and rolled in peanuts), fancy-coated apples drizzled with chocolate and decked with sprinkles or M&Ms...what I wanted was coffee. You could smell it from the car, but I can wait.

We went to Wendy's for lunch and I bought a bacon/cheese/barbecue-ranch classic burger with fries. *sigh* It was very good, but messy - got sauce all over the digits. Kissed my kid goodbye, and we've been home ever since.

Yesterday the TV remote lost its programming again, and I was expecting a tech this afternoon, but Renee - who says she's forever fixing hers on her own - did the repair before we left home. I offered to pay her, and she just laughed. So, I cancelled the cable guy.

Come Tuesday, a bust is arriving from ebay. Image

She is 8 1/2" tall, and since she's wearing murrey and blue (the colors of House Plantagenet), I was thinking that she might pass for 16th great-grandma Margaret Pole. I'm displaying her with the portrait of 13th great-grandpa Philip Howard. The listing was under the Virgin Mary, but I can't imagine Herself ever being done up as such. I mean, really? - gold ornaments, on her skin and hair, and a doily on her head? I don't think so. But, for a 15th century English princess, sure - why not?

Getting it was so cool, because I didn't have the credit card yet. Remember that pop-up that ensnared the Honey, and how I had to get rid of that perfectly good piece of plastic, so that Walter/Lee of the "We Are Stealing Your Money You Dopes, INC." didn't abuse it? Well, I threw myself on the mercy of this seller, and they pulled it from the site until I had the mastercard in my hot, wee hands :D .
Hence, it is slated to arrive Tuesday. *squee* I'm so happy!!!!!!

And I have just finished pulling everything not nailed down, out of the hallway bath. Amy's food, dishes, and comfy bed are in the master. Right now, she's sleeping on my bed. Tomorrow's the day; I've had to lock the Honey out of it for the time being. Oh, and I had the nicest thing happen last week.

I was trying on the new sheets, and had inadvertently hauled my mattress off of my box springs. I couldn't budge the thing (it's a queen; it could have been worse, it could have been a king), so I called the upstairs neighbors who took Duane and me to the football game. They both said they'd be right down, they were, they picked up the mattress, and plopped it back where it belonged. But that's not all. THEY MADE MY BED!!!! They did - from sheets to spread to all eight pillows!!!! So, I bought them a loaf of pumpkin bread :) (I don't bake any more; I just can't. I used to, but I'm afraid of dropping the mixing bowl.) They said I didn't have to do that, but they didn't have to make the bed either. Turn about, you know - I'm not sure that applies, but you know what I mean.

Just such nice people I live with. See, how can I move and start all over again? Jean always calls on me to bash the washer when it won't take quarters, and Linda called last night because her sister and she were stuck inside (their deadbolt was kaput; Linda's son fixed it.) If I need an onion, or an egg - two things that I am usually out of - my neighbors will offer me several of each. Nope, this is home until they carry me away.

Well, that's all for now. I'll let you know how the bath destruction progresses :) .


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2018 10:33 pm
by shireling
The terminators showed up at 8:15 this morning, and the room is gone. All of the studs are exposed, the floor has been ripped out, the tub has been smashed to smithereens, and there's not a shred of drywall anywhere. They won't be here tomorrow, so we'll be able to go out on Tuesday.

I'm pleased, but miserable. I have got a sore throat, a stuffy nose, and that extends up behind my eyes. I apologized to the guys who were working; I just crawled into bed and fell asleep to the melodious lay of sledge hammers. There was one point where the hammer came through the wall of my vanity, and I was worried that my box of cat litter, within, might get demolished. So, it's sitting atop the counter, and long after they left, I swept the space out. But I'm not putting the box back in there until the deed is done.

Amy's okay. She didn't like her red mattress tucked inside of that big velvety throw I've got. I thought it would feel good on her old bones - probably mine is what I was really considering. Anyway, she kept staring at me, sitting beside the makeshift bed, until I went over and took it out (she had pulled a corner across, uncovering it, which was good because I'm not that psychic.) Anyway, she has figured out why I've put her up in my room.

That room, that hall bath, was the prettiest room, the day we bought the place. There was this violet/orange/pink wall paper, done up as flowers with lovely green stems, and the previous owner had covered the floor with wall to wall pink carpet. Both tubs had these sliding glass doors, which I hated, because you try giving a toddler a bath with these huge breakable sheets of previously unheated sand. I don't remember getting rid of them, but they've been gone a long time. The woman we bought the place from - obviously not a vampire - had mirrors everywhere. The one that was on the back of the master door was given away to a friend of ours, and the reflective closet doors were dumped soon after; I replaced them with drapes. The only thing I liked about them, was that I could see the bed in them, and that made it easier to get the covers and pillows even.

We took out the metal closet doors in Mike's room because that provided more play space for him. A lot of the two bedroom units, like ours, had the second room turned into a glorified storage closet, and I couldn't wait to rip those doors out. But the hall bath gradually succumbed to water falling through the ceiling fan, and pooling above the commode. The carpet was soaked through, and the 2x2 white tiles began to float off of the sub-floor. Lord...

Leaning against the bedroom wall is our metal medicine cabinet. The glass shelves are safely stowed under the bed, and I've tucked the light bulbs into my batteries drawer. We've got a new light fixture coming, one that'll be easier to change the bulbs on, and they think they can remove the old part with a screwdriver.

Wish I felt better. It could be worse, I could be holed up in the master with a roll of Charmin. Right now, we are a single loo family - something we have not been since before the tumble of the Berlin Wall. What I really hate about this is how easily it feels like I could just stick a crochet hook in my nose, and pull this packing out. Of course, I cannot, it is not like that, but I feel it nonetheless.

I'm off to take more cold stuff, and crawl back under the covers. Until next time.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Oct 10, 2018 1:44 am
by shireling
Still coldish...

But we went out today. I had a bill and profession cards to mail, Duane wanted to go to the library and a walk in the mall. Prescriptions to pick up, and the first of our two favorite lunch dates. I didn't have enough change, and I was told just bring it next week. We've been eating there since 1982, at least weekly, and we buy the same meals each time. It's so nice to have people in your life who can help with the slack. I don't know how I'd manage without each and every one of them.

I called the cable company this morning to apologize for cancelling Sunday's appointment. Who knew Renee was so good with re-programming? Anyway, 'Treena' laughed, she was so cute, and said, "Don't worry about it, Mrs. D_."

So, the plumber will be here tomorrow to do the inspection of the pipes - that needs done before they're covered up with drywall. I locked the door to the room, because both of us have forgotten that there's nothing in there. Tomorrow's my laundry day, but I don't see myself doing that. It could be that I'll feel better in the morning, but I won't get my hopes up.

Oh, the bust arrived today! She is just as beautiful as she looks in her picture, and I wrote a very grateful review to the seller. As far as I'm concerned, she's 16 times great-grandma Pole, when she was 16-years-old, wearing the colors of her royal house. I don't want to think of her those last few years in the Tower, and then to the block. But then I remember the father of that king that condemned her, and I like to think, that he spent most of the last nights of his life, waking in a cold sweat at the sight of King Richard's last desperate charge.

Little things mean a-lot *sigh, chuckle*

Well, good night my joons. I don't know if they're coming as early tomorrow as they did Monday, but it's probably safe to assume so.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Oct 10, 2018 1:47 pm
by shireling
The cold persists...

And now there are bugs. I'm used to the occasional pill bug (aka, roly-polys), and brown recluse - which is a spider, and therefore not an insect, which gave rise to the saying all insects are bugs, but not all bugs are insects. To continue, I have squashed a couple of silverfish and millipedes since the New Year, and have gnashed gnats with gusto. But then I saw a cockroach, last night, in my kitchen.

I met my first one in Texas - along with my first scorpion and tarantula. But roaches were amazing, arranging from the common German variety to the palmetto. This was not a palmetto, thank God, but the other. And for a minute, I was surprised that it didn't flee at the sight of me. It wandered around the counter, sampling the crumbs left behind by the Honey's last supper, and didn't seem to appreciate the danger I presented until I reached for a paper towel. Then, it scampered.

I followed it under the toaster, to the wooden box where we keep our medications, to the edge of the sink. There I caught it up in the Bounty-knockoff, and made short work of it. I did want to cast it down the disposal, but since it had been converted to a greasy patch about the size of a nickle, I just molded the mass into a ball and tossed it in the bin.

Later, I mentioned it to the man in life.

Oh, I saw it.
About five nights ago.
Five nights ago? Did you see anybody with it?
Duane. Was it alone?
I don't know.
Honey, this not a perjury trap. There was either one or more.
Damn it, Duane! Why didn't you tell me?
And you didn't try to kill it? I thought it came in the box from Akron, and now you're saying it's been here all the time!
I didn't know it was the same one.
Well that's why it didn't panic when it saw me. It just thought I was a better-looking version of you. I've never had roaches here.
They don't eat much. They're very clean...
They. are. vermin. Who do you think you are? David Attenborough? You see any more, you tell me. Okay?
Duane? Are you going to tell me?

I got up three times last night to check, but there were no new faces. Still it's better than shaking out your shoes every morning, like I did in San Antonio. Scorpions came up in the drains over night, and I kept jar lids full of sugary poison all around the kitchen for both roaches and ants. There were three versions of ants - fire, sugar, and carpenter. The only good thing I could say about the scorpions was that they ate other bugs, and I think ours were better fed than most.

As for the bath, the guys are here now. They're cutting sheets of drywall to fit, and installing a ceiling lamp/fan. The plumber is due to come by sometime. And today is supposed to be the last official weather-day of summer. I am so tired of the mugginess. No doubt I will shortly become fed up with the cold, but I was made to suffer. That's my lot in life. Right now I'm considering what to have for lunch - never knowing when I will lack for stuff to prepare it, like electricity or water, should the men need to shut off one or the other or both.

Okay, joon-ams. I shall return.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Thu Oct 11, 2018 11:34 am
by shireling
Sniffling along, but I'm getting things done.

Went out this morning and bought groceries - I'm still bringing them in, I've got two bags left. The guys were here yesterday from just after 8 AM until 5:15, and it is really coming together. The shower is almost finished, and they might get the floor done today. I'm just flabbergasted at how much has been achieved in so short a time. All morning there were two guys, and after lunch there were seven.
I just wish I felt better.

So, cable person between 4 & 5, computer person between 8 & Noon, and bath people all the time. Well, back to the car to bring in the rest.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2018 4:48 am
by shireling
Just when I think I'm over this cold/flu/allergy/plague, it's back.

I had hopes of taking the past few days easy, once the laundry was done. Just clothes, though I might get to the rest come Thursday. But the Honey has been reading through books at such a rapid rate that I've taken him to the library four times this week to return books and get some more. I don't know how he does it; they are pretty sturdy tomes, history stuff mainly. We went out for burgers today, since the bathroom fellas will return tomorrow.

The room has all four walls, the ceiling (complete with light and fan combo), and the flooring installed. The shell of the walk-in shower is also up, and there's more mudding to do. I guess, if I remember right, it's two more muddings, sanding, priming, painting and then the rest of the porcelain and vanity. So, by this time next week, it may be done :) . We were right about wanting to keep two full baths; at least twice since this project began, one or the other of us has been left waiting to use the facilities. He has other options, but not if they involve sitting down - which they did. Anyway, I look forward to the outcome.

John B. died. Ann called and told me. I can't believe it. I can't believe he was 73. He looked to be in his fifties, and was sort of a slow, sweet soul. He always brought ice cream for refreshments, and it would melt. Made very fine coffee creamer, btw. Two cartons of Breyers, one was Fudge Swirl, can't remember the other. Whenever we did the Crown Rosary, and he had a decade to do, he would speed through it so fast. Sometimes, we got eleven Hail Mary's instead of ten, but nobody cared. Nobody embarrassed anybody ever, or was sarcastic to John. Though there was one famous blowup with Reggie, and she went home right after. Just a bad day the two of them were having, and it never happened again. Duane's coming with me to the funeral; he doesn't want to be left alone.

As we were tooling about this morning, he told me that he's angry with God for making him feel like He's abandoning him. Why tell me this? Well, I wanted you to know how things are going. Why bother when nothing changes? I reminded him of all the times he'd come home from work and say that he'd gotten nothing done. What was I supposed to do with that? He'd walk in the door with this hangdog-look on his face, and I'm thinking, he's been fired. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo....he just didn't get anything done. And just as I felt I could finally relax, he called me to say he'd been let go. See that was the thing I wasn't expecting, a phone call.

Don't ever get old, joons. Or let one miserable, rotten, nasty man in your life keep you in a state of perpetual pique, as it has with at least one of my comrades. On second thought, I don't want to go there.

Anyway, the remodel - even as quickly and smoothly as it's been going - does take its toll. The noise, the lack of privacy, does get to you. We went out on the couple of days that work was stopped, and everybody was asking if we were okay. We must have looked like hell. I just realized that I missed my morning meds when I went to get tonight's, and I put most of them back in their bottles, just taking the vitamins, aspirin and thyroid pill. Amy's doing well, thank God. I've been most concerned about her and her coping with all the battering and traffic.

My birthday is Sunday. And we're going out with Michael, out to the Market to pick up some cider. Maybe I'll get one of their pies or some other goody for my birthday. I'm also getting the annual cat calendar and The Fall of Gondolin. Next Monday is our wedding anniversary - the room should be finished this week. It's quarter to 1 and I've got no business being awake. In fact, I don't think I shortly will be. Night, sweethearts.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2018 1:32 pm
by shireling
I fell. It's so stupid - I lost my balance against the bedroom door. The medicine chest is leaning against that wall, about a foot away from the opening. It's amazing how much time I had to think as the floor approached, how deliberately I could twist to the left to avoid the thing, which is a metal box, original to the place, with glass shelves and mirrored doors. Unfortunately, I couldn't get completely clear of it, and I've got a couple of big bruises, one for that side's arm and matching knee, and what looks like a horse bite, on my right bicep. But I'll live, and, more importantly, the cabinet is undamaged.

They'll be done this week. The muddings and sanding are complete; it needs painted and the finishing. I'm so amazed :yay: . I'm thinking now that my bronchitis is from the redo. All that dust and who knows what was in the walls before they tore them down. I'm trying to get well enough to go to John's funeral. I had to miss the last two because of Duane's doctor visits, and I'm determined to make it. The Honey's staying home because the guys will be here tomorrow, and Thursday. I called the contractor this morning, to see about a backsplash, due to the hubby's coughing. I wish I had thought of it before, because now, it's not in the agreement. I hope they'll be merciful.

And next Monday, we're getting the furnace fired up. I don't have a full-time person, not since the original retired; it's just been hit and miss over the past few years. So, when I called, I asked for a contract, if he did them, and he's actually two dollars more than what I had with Mr. Mike :D. I'm going to change the filter today, before we go out.

I'm debating about getting my regular special at Chop Suey, or wonton soup with two egg rolls and hot mustard. And hot tea, of course. Well, I need to make my bed and get dressed. Take care, joons of mine. Have a safe, friendly day.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2018 9:10 pm
by shireling
The room's been painted, and the guys are shop-vaccing everything.

The vanity is in, the sink's in the vanity and the medicine chest is back on the wall. They had to return the original light fixture to the top, because the one we bought won't fit. Well, it'll fit, but there's not enough space above it. The 4 lights will just shine down on the box, melting whatever's inside, and that's if we could get it up high enough change the bulbs when they burned out. So, the original has been re-screwed to the cabinet, and the new fixture is back in the box. But.....

We can, if we so desire, because we've already bought it, put the new fixture in the masterbath :D . That original is pretty messed up, unlike the hall bath's, and it sits directly above a mirror *squee*! So, we can have our electrician - who is coming out next Monday to start up the furnace - maybe take down the old and replace it with this new one, which looks like this


It's a possibility. Not on that day, probably, but I don't want the fixture where it's at - which is sitting where the medicine chest used to. Where I got clobbered falling on it.

Anyway I called Joan, and told her that I was probably not going to come to John's funeral. I still had that wheezing cough, but by 11 AM, I had conquered it enough that I could go. So, I get there, and there's an urn surrounded by fall flowers. We gathered round and prayed for him, before the funeral began. The mortician carried the ashes into the church, and put the arrangements around it. It was only about 40 minutes long, very nice, beautiful singing, and because we were in the front row, I slipped out to the rest room to avoid communion.

I don't know what Abdu'l-Baha would do. I don't know what Jesus would do - except maybe try to tell the folks that this isn't what He had in mind, at the Last Supper. I wonder sometimes if He gets annoyed with the fact that He spent all that time traveling, three years of preaching, teaching, sermonizing, with no place to lay His head (according to His own account), and what does everybody remember? His last dinner with the guys on Thursday, and the worst weekend of His life.

Mass is about that. It's not about what He taught. What He brought. What He tried to get people to embrace about His religion. It should not be about those awful hours of Roman hospitality, that horrific execution, and the burial that ultimately He didn't stick around for. In the Quran, Muhammad - may peace be upon Him - teaches Muslims about Christ, and as a result they are much more deepened and reverent about Jesus than most Christians are. People complain that the Prophet says that Jesus didn't die on the cross. But, if you believe in Him, He didn't; in fact, for some of us, Jesus didn't have to rise from the dead to prove that He had power over it. That was the whole point of the story of Lazarus. I've got a friend who is a recently-retired cardiologist; he raised people from the dead all day long. The point is, the faith of Christ lived on, and has sustained millions throughout the centuries. You wanna fight about semantics, fine - we'll fight about words, and it won't result in anything. And, here again, I digress.

How do I keep from getting communion hosts, pinched between unwashed fingers and blackened nails, in my face? Really, I'm not kidding. A basic manicure would not go amiss with some of these folks, but if you're going to handle what you regard is the actual body of your Savior, at least wash your hands. Anyway, so, who do I go to? The Pope? Maybe? I'm not on social media, but that's the best idea I've had since I first thought about this. Pope Francis would listen. He might not agree, and that's okay - I don't mind if he doesn't. I would just like a second opinion, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get it from Christ. Hmmmmmmmm....must think about this some more.

Well, it's 5 PM, and I'm hungry. The guys are gone for the day, and our home is our own for the next 14 hours.


Re: My dear Joon...

Posted: Fri Oct 19, 2018 6:33 pm
by shireling
The bath is finished.

And it's beautiful. Opening the door is like going into a holodeck. Duane is not happy about the money spent, and I was of the same mind, until I realized that I am not getting better. It's a mere three, four inches tops to step inside the shower, and there's a wee seat in the corner, not to mention two grab bars. There's a few hiccups. It's got the wrong shower head - I wanted a smaller, adjustable one that I could use on me nooks and crannies. This is the size of a mature sunflower, and when you flush, water tends to stream out of it. The toilet doesn't completely clear the bowl; the trap closes too quickly, and I was expecting a wood seat.

I called the contractor and left messages, mainly that I think it's wonderful. I think we confused them. The shower in the hall bath is mine, but the rest is Duane's. He has to have the taller vanity, backsplashes, etc., and while he likes the tub in the master, I need the lower counter space and commode. We can always pick up the seat on our own. I think that was my bad, I don't remember ever going there, but I do definitely recall conversing about the shower head. Anyway, I'm pleased as all get out with it in the main. I don't think the fiduciary was expecting the cost, but he's the one that insisted we get this.

J & F are coming downstairs Thursday evening to help us take the TV off the entertainment center; maybe they could dinner with us. I asked J if they'd like to, and she said she'd get back to me.

Gosh, I'm tired. I got up for laundry at four, and finished at eight. I'd been sleeping until just after 11, but I'm still kaput. So, later my loves.