St. Louis Architecture: Union Trust

I see the Union Trust or 705 Olive building just about every day. I catch the bus home very near it each day.
I’m still not tired of it.

Granted, its groundview storefronts are funky looking.

They are in serious need of an update.



They are, unfortunately, a shadow of the beautiful building that was completed in November 1893.

At 15 stories, it was the tallest building in St. Louis at the time. The building originally had a roof top observatory which was later used as a beer garden. (You can sort of see that on the left tower roof in the old photo, circa 1900.)

So we've established that the building has, in fact, seen better days. But look upward toward the topmost floors and you will see some of the most beautifully ornate features found in St. Louis architecture today. (That’s my opinion anyway.) Luckily, several of its best features were left in tact.

The building’s two towers have a gorgeous row of bay windows between them.

And, of course, if I am so fascinated by it, you know that it must have a gorgeous cornice to top things off!

This building definitely does not disappoint in that respect. It even throws some columns in for good measure.

These griffins, or “bearcats” as architect/designer Louis Sullivan supposedly called them, are all over the place.

In the photo above, you can see that there is one between every set of columns. But it's only when you zoom in that you really get an idea of just how fabulous they are.

Don't you almost feel like they could take a bite out of you?! Grrrrrr!

Made you jump, didn't I?

They’re scary, but beautiful.

You can see a rendering of the original face of the building here. You can see the decorative detail that surrounded the round windows. Yes, I said round. Please make a note of that because you aren't going to see round windows on the front of the building now.

Those windows – and the two-story arch entryway – were casualties of a complete remodel in the 1920s. Can you believe some idiot covered those up?!

However, if you sneak along the side of the building, in an alley between Union Trust and another building I hope to feature soon, you get an idea of what they were like but without the fancy adornment surrounding them.

I still can't believe someone covered those up! At the very least, they should face a firing squad.

OK. Maybe that's a little too harsh, but not that far off of being exactly what they deserve in my book.

At least for now, it doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger of having anyone else tinker with what first made it so great more than 115 years ago.

I'll be the first one in line to protest if they do.

Sun Alert!

Attention ladies and gentleman: Do not be alarmed. That strange cast of light is none other than the sun! YAY!

And we need every ray of it that we can get this morning – it’s only 36. BRRRR. I actually had to put a coat on again. Luckily, I don’t think I’ll need it this afternoon as we’re allegedly headed for the 60s. Here’s hoping.

Last night, the mother had cooked a roast. I could smell it before I even opened the door. But I had to bypass it to run across town and pick up a few things, chiefly my allergy meds. I was hurrying because Gone With the Wind was on at 7. Well, I’ve seen this movie plenty of times, so I knew I had at least 10 minutes past start time before the actual movie got rolling. (It was on TCM and they show it complete with entry music and all the opening credits. Love it!)

This is among my favorite movies. And it’s my favorite Clark Gable movie.

Love that guy. He was a nice looking guy but his appeal wasn’t just that.

To me anyway, he had a presence that not a lot of actors before or since have ever had. (Am also particularly fond of It Happened One Night, and Mutiny on the Bounty, versus a particularly wicked Charles Laughton as Capt. Bligh, A really young Gable, sans mustache, is particularly hot as Mr. Christian.)

Except for getting stuck in line in my hurry to get home, it was a good night all around. Smells of good food wafting through the house, enjoying a good meal and goofily offering up our favorite lines from the movie.

It was the perfect way to end what had been quite the gray day.

11 Tasks for April

IF the sun ever decides to show its cowardly face again, and IF Spring will sprout some cajones and FINALLY kick Ole Man Winter to the curb, maybe, just maybe I can say the word vacation in a serious tone of voice.

Remember that stroke of genius I had alluded to yesterday, the one that would immediately resolve my footwear dilemma? Well, be careful what you wish for.

I thought that since I wasn’t doing a lot of profitable projects at work, that this might be a good time to schedule a few days off. (Especially since I just discovered yesterday that I now qualify for FOUR FULL WEEKS! I didn’t think that happened until next year.) And I thought that being at home, the flipflop would be great. AND it’s supposed to be beautiful the next few days, disappearing just in time for the weekend to roll around again. So I thought I could work as much or as little as my toe will allow.

And maybe I could even finish the shed. Wouldn’t that be grand?!

But a project fell from the sky and landed squarely in my lap. It’s not something I would have hoped for, but work is work. (I guess, moving forward, I need to be more specific when wishing.) Between that work, and some live wires on another project I really do enjoy, things picked up. So, vacation time is postponed. That’s definitely not a bad thing; it’s just that I kind of had myself set in vacation mode. (Except for a couple sick days back in January, I’ve not taken any time off this year yet.) I looked at the rising unemployment numbers though and quickly got over it.

While checking the 10-day forecast at Weather.com to see if waiting until next week made sense, I happened upon this home maintenance checklist of tasks for April. I thought about half of them made good sense. I wasn’t sure why exactly April was the best month for others.

But, you can judge for yourself.

Tax Trauma

It’s April 14. Do you know where your W-2s are? No? Me neither.

It occurred to me Sunday night that I still hadn’t done my state taxes. Federal and the work state were filed months ago. I’ve already gotten refunds back more than two months ago. But Illinois? No.

So last night, I got my tax booklet out and thought: Maybe the state has progressed enough that I can efile on my own? I found at at the IDOR site that no. We’re still in the Neolithic age. I still can’t file online because I get credit for taxes paid to another state. Well, OK. We’ll do it the hard way.

There was just one problem with that: I STILL couldn’t find my W-2s. I looked everywhere they should have been. Even a few other likely spots, but no dice. I found a lot of the mother’s Medicare paperwork and reams of info on her supplemental insurance. And I did manage to easily locate W-2s from years 2003 through 2007. Go figure.

By this time, I’m starting to panic just a little. If I couldn’t get this done tonight, that left me just one more night to work it out. Then, it occurred to me, that at least once, in addition to figuring my state tax (to make sure my numbers were good), I actually had my online service file them. Not last year, but a year or two before. Since it costs more, I usually just have them do the math, make notes of what boxes and stuff to look for and then use a paper form. (I already pay them to do federal and one state.)

But my home state is the bear. They have a schedule and a worksheet and you have to send both the other state and your federal forms to them, too. So, going online would simplify the process dramatically.

Happily, I discovered that if I paid my online preparer, they could file my state tax online. WTF? Why if I pay someone to do it, can it be done? So not getting that.

I did, however, cheerfully approve the transaction – especially once I discovered that the preparer automatically filled in 90 percent of the information. I had only to provide a few numbers that I didn’t need W-2s for. Whew. Got that done and with little time to spare!

I know that one of these days, when I’m not even thinking about them, I’ll find those W-2s. Such is life at This D*mn House. Now, here's hoping that sometime very soon -- if not already -- I find an email telling me that my tax form has been accepted!

Home Is a Refuge

There’s a lot of crap out in the world today. It’s nice to be able to come home, close the door behind me and – if I truly want to block all of it out – turn off the television. There. All gone.

I’m lucky that way. For me, home is a refuge from the ravages of the outside world – but it wasn’t always. And for so many others, it’s still not.

Even if you have escaped domestic violence, survived sexual abuse or another violent crime, those experiences never really leave you. If you’re lucky – like I think I am – you come to terms with them. You, ideally anyway, reach a point where you can leave them lay (maybe pausing to stomp on them a time or two) and then move on stronger for having vanquished them.

And if you’re really lucky – again, I’m in this category – you might even find a way to put that emotional garbage to good use. That’s why I feel privileged to have a guest post today on Maggie’s (she of Okay. Fine. Dammit.) other site, ViolenceUnSilenced.

Domestic violence may be a hard thing to comprehend, particularly if you’ve been spared. But don’t for one second think it has never touched your life. You just may not know. It could be happening right now to your co-worker, friend, neighbor, aunt, sister or daughter.

The statistics are that one in four women (and one in nine men) will experience it during her lifetime. You and three friends or you and three sisters. Chances are, one of you knows domestic violence intimately.

That’s just one of the more insidious characteristics of this epidemic. No one wants to talk about it. Whether it’s fear or shame or whatever it may be, these victims are silenced by it – when speaking out is what very well may save them. And God bless Maggie for providing a forum!

I’ve always known that I’m luckier than most and some of the stories shared on this site have shown me just how lucky. But I understand their stories and feel them more than I like to admit. That is, however, what the Violence UnSilenced site is all about. It’s about exorcising those inner demons and either finding the strength to escape an abusive situation or sharing insight on how you have gotten past it to hopefully empower others who are still trapped.

I hope you’ll check it out and support the other contributors. And, if you can relate to these stories, consider sharing yours, too. If you’re still in an abusive relationship or know someone who is, it may be just the message you or they need to hear.

Mushy Monday

My thoughts this morning are like an audio collage of all things rain.

In one part of my head, Supertramp is singing “It’s Raining Again” (and I hate that song) while in another Emma Thompson is repeatedly saying: “Stupid, stupid rain!” (From the movie “Impromptu.”) And God help me, but in still another part, the Carpenters are chiming in with "Rainy Days and Mondays." That's something I definitely don't want stuck in my head. AAAAAAARRRGGHHH!

And my Nano – ever the correct weather forecaster – has played in succession: “Here Comes the Rain Again” by the Eurythmics, “Rain King” by Counting Crows, and Peter Gabriel’s “Red Rain.” I ought to see if I can sell its services to The Weather Channel as I think it's right more than they are.

It’s all very appropriate. It rained on and off all night last night and has been continuing again since early this morning. In my mind, that brings out just one adjective to describe it: mushy.

The yard let out an audible “splurgh” sound as I walked across it earlier.

OK. Enough with the rain already. What I really want? A flip-flop. The buddy-taped toe is not going to last in this shoe. Somehow, I don’t think the flip-flop would be considered work appropriate. Even so, I still want it. It worked quite well at home.

Not sure how I’m going to make it through today, much less the rest of this week. I’ve got an idea though. We’ll see today if it’s a viable one. Stay tuned.

Hot and Cold

I got up this morning with the intention of getting an early start (10-ish) and whacking out as much of the shed job as I could.

But it was not to be.

First, it wasn't nearly as warm today as yesterday. This was compounded by an occasional tornadic like wind and an ever-growing gray sky. (It only just started raining though in the past hour or two.)

Second, my toe was swollen to about twice its size. And third, because I had been putting my weight onto my right side most of yesterday, that seemed to have irritated that leg again and, in turn, my back.

So, I spent much of the day with ice on my toe and heat on my back. I even took a nap!

I felt like a slacker, but at least I did get something done this weekend. And hey, I tried, right?

Hoppy Easter!

I had some company during my work day yesterday ... this little guy.

He started out in the yard a few yards away from me but ran for cover when the power tools started in. He remained under the neighbors' pine tree the rest of the afternoon. (This has been a favorite site of rabbits who love to burrow in the dirt beneath it to escape the scorching sun of summer.)

I couldn't help but think The Easter Bunny has arrived!

Happy Easter everyone. Have a joyous and safe day.

Wimp!

Yup. I'm a wimp.

By the time I got the shed cleared out to get to my tools and got my work area set up, my toe was throbbing. After padding and taping it, I had jammed it into a shoe. After an hour of hobbling around, it made itself known that it was very unhappy indeed.

I hadn't gone to the trouble though of spending all that time clearing things out and then setting up for nothing. So I soldiered on.

I no sooner laid the sawhorses in the yard than I saw my neighbor turning the corner on his lawnmower. Since he is good enough to cut it, I moved them out of the way.

I took a needed break after which it became clear that I could NOT put that shoe back on. Once out of the shoe, it actually did feel better. So, I walked on the back of the shoe the rest of the day. It was slower and required a little more caution, but it worked!

The mother was lecturing me the entire time but it was such a lovely day! How could I possibly not try to accomplish something? The weather is so fickle, I thought it best to get somewhere rather than nowhere. And, so here is where I got.

I finally gave in and called it quits. I swept the driveway (where the neighbor had thrown grass all over the place), cleaned up my mess, put everything away and then came in and ate. The mother made a pot of stew that was twice as good as it looked and it looked great!

Not exactly a stellar opening to this new season of "Pimp My Shed" but I guess it's better than nothing. We'll see if I can resume tomorrow!

Primin’ for Pimpin’

It's going to be a beautiful day (sunny, dry, 60-ish) and I'm going to get something done. Or at least started.

It’s still a little too cool outside so I’m bidin’ my time before I go out and start on the shed. It’s about time I stopped plannin’ and talkin’ and started doin’ some real bonafide DIY again.

I’m a little slow today, thanks not only to my still wayward back, but to a toe that’s likely broken. It crashed into a furniture leg late last night while trying to dodge creatures. (Yeah, I really needed that right now.)

I guess I’ll buddy tape it once I get dressed. Unfortunately, that’s about the only thing you can do for it and all they would do at the ER. (I’ve been down this path a time or two.) But, it’s nothing you can die from so I’ll pop some ibuprofen and get myself moving.

There’s pimpin’ to be done! I’m back. And I’m baaaaaad.

Soaked

I guess it must rain a lot on this date every year.

I took S to the grocery store with me last night and I got pretty soaked in between stores. As the wind picked up, my hood wouldn't stay up and my umbrella did less and less good. It took at least an hour or two last night for my clothes to dry out. I was beginning to think I'd have to work out the cubit measurements!

All I know is that it's supposed to be sunny and in the 60s through Sunday afternoon. They'd better be right about this!

So much for the Farmer's Almanac saying it would be a drier April and May this year ...

Beer o'clock?

I probably had more fun on Twitter this morning than I’ve had the whole time I’ve been using it combined.

Ty’smommy and I were commiserating on the fact that while we were physically present today(in two different locations), mentally – not so much. She said she was right there with me and I said I was glad to be in such good company – wherever in the hell that was. To which she said: “If only there were a bar here.”

That made me laugh and she and I exchanged virtual bar orders. No matter that this was well before 9 a.m. (I did say it was virtual.) But that Margarita I ordered, it sounded soooo unbelievably good. I really did have to talk myself down.

Then, I remembered that I’d made a playlist for the Nano sometime back and called it “Pour Me a Drink.” I tweeted this, pointing out that AC/DC’s “Have a Drink on Me” was starting things off.
If you had this playlist, you’d then be treated to:

Margaritaville – Jimmy Buffett
Tequila – The Champs (Who could forget the awesome PeeWee Herman dance number?!)
If the Blues Was Whiskey – Luther “Guitar Junior” Johnson
Red, Red Wine – UB40
Scenes from an Italian Restaurant – Billy Joel
One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer – John Lee Hooker
I Drink Alone – George Thorogood
Message in a Bottle – The Police
Shake It Up – The Cars
Escape (Pina Colada song) – Rupert Holmes (Not one of my favorites but it was the base for this year’s Crop Camp parody.)
Big Yellow Taxi – Counting Crows (Someone asked why this song applied. Um … best way to get home, right?)
867-5309/Jenny –T ommy Tutone (It might fit your list if your good friend “B”, with the most serious of expressions, casually wrote down this number in a matchbook for a guy in a bar. And THEN, equally casually scrawled the name “Jenny” underneath it. AND THEN, the guy took it with a “hey, thanks” never getting the joke.)
Smooth – Santana and Rob Thomas
If You Could See – Tonic
The Remedy – Jason Mraz (Remember on The Waltons how the Baldwin sisters had “the remedy” or codeword for moonshine.)

Looking at my playlist and at Ty’smommy’s suggestions (which included A Tear in My Beer, Whiskey in the Jar, Alcohol, and Alcoholin' Ass by Hell Yeah) I decided to see what other suggestions were out there. I was pleased to find that many of my choices were on other peoples’ lists, too.

That’s when I also discovered that World Cocktail Week starts May 6. (I’m not creative enough to make this stuff up, folks. Here’s lookin’ at you, CD.)

So get ready folks. You already have a good start on a soundtrack …

Super Soaker

It rained hard yesterday, last night, and overnight. Walking across the yard is like stepping on marshmallows – muddy ones, too. Both my umbrella and jacket are still wet from last night!

I drove to the depot this morning as I will be on a “fish quest” later. Good Friday observance. No other Friday during Lent seems to bother the mother, but this one throws her headlong into religious tradition.

(No irreverence to the solemnity of the day, this is just a custom I don't get. Me? I figure if I’m going to Hell, it’s going to be for something a lot more significant than eating meat on an odd day of the calendar. Why not jut not eat?) But I’ll play along anyway. I’ll probably just eat some of the albacore tuna I bought at the store last night as part of the cholesterol craziness.

The sky continues to be gray this morning, but at least for now, it's not raining. I didn’t catch any weather as the mother was watching “Fried Green Tomatoes” and it was all I could do to not plop down beside her and watch, too. (We’ve both seen it a ba-million times but aren’t averse to adding another viewing to the count.)

I sure hope the dry and in the 60s forecast I’ve been seeing for the weekend holds out …

Spring Flings with DIY

I ran across a lot of home improvement news while doing some online searches for other things today. And the news isn’t even all bad. Here’s a few things that might be worth a look.

Looking for an ultra “cool” spring project to enjoy all summer? Build a pool – or so says this article on outdoor spring projects.

Not swimming in cash to make it happen? Never fear. You can always do some budget-friendly spring touches on the inside.

And we all know how I love to give nods to our housebloggin’ brethren. Well, the Manila Standard, a newspaper in the Philippines, is giving some link love to 10 housebloggers. I know you’ll recognize some of these home and DIY enthusiasts including Apartment Therapy, Homeowner’s Blog, and the Handyguys Podcast.

Sun Before Rain

The sun is viciously bright this morning, but considering that I’d rather have it than not, I’ll deal with it. We’re supposedly in for rain later today and most of tomorrow. Fun times.

The good news is that the weekend is supposed to be dry and in the 60s. Sounds like I’ll be mowing the lawn and ideally starting on the shed. I think it’s a job I can finish – except for the painting – in two days. I think.

For the record, I did measure the columns on the porch last night and I hope to be ordering some PVC bases today. We’ll see if I get to that or not.

Later in the evening, I also watched Renovation Realities on HGTV again. While this episode wasn’t nearly as funny as last week’s, it was amusing. And there did seem to be a common theme: blowing the house. While our DIY guy this week didn’t take a saw to the gas line, he just unhooked a stove and let gas flow freely through the house.

That show really does make me feel loads better about the time, effort, and end results at This D*mn House!

Wee Bits Wednesday

My brain has been all over the place today. As a result, I started about 100 things but finished very little. So, why shouldn’t tonight’s blog post be like everything else today, and like my attention span in particular – short, disjointed, and maybe even pointless?
*******
While I’m getting what equates to extreme amounts of sleep for me, I have been like the living dead the past few mornings. Mind you, I almost never bound out of bed, gleefully ready to face the day and bouncing around like a junior high cheerleader. That’s just not going to happen. I'm a night person, always have been. Alarms that go off between 5:30 and 5:45 are just not that appealing to me.

Still, I’ve been getting up and then ever so sloooooooowly going through my routine, taking about twice as long as usual. Could it be the anti-inflammatory med? I’d understand if I were taking the muscle relaxer, but I have avoided it thus far.
*******
Phone rings at the office, a local number I don’t recognize.
NV: Good afternoon. This is Nicole.
Caller: Hi. I’m trying to reach (name withheld).
NV: Sorry. No one here by that name. Thank you.

I hang up. This has happened a few times during the 8.5 years I’ve worked there, clearly from a collection agency. The phone rings again. I see it’s the same number as before. No pleasant greeting this time. I cut to the chase.

NV: I’m sorry. Was I not clear?
Caller: Clear? I’m trying to reach …
NV: Right. And I think I already told you there’s no one here by that name. If there ever was, she hasn’t been at this number since late 2000. Either you’ve transposed digits and have a wrong number or else you really need to update your records. In either case, I can’t help you. Bye bye.

I hang up and I’ll be d*mned if the phone doesn’t ring AGAIN. Same freakin’ number. I let it go to voice mail. Voicemail that clearly identifies ME as me – and gives you my assistant’s number if you need to reach me right away. My message light doesn’t come on. Ten seconds later, I hear her phone ringing. I can’t help myself. I have to see. And sure enough, it’s the same number AGAIN. My assistant is out sick. I answer it.

NV: (Name withheld’s) office. Oh, I mean, NV’s office.
Click.

Yep. I can be evil when provoked. The joy of it is, my assistant was out sick. She couldn't have taken that call. (Pausing to snort laugh.) I can’t wait to see what happens now!
*******
It’s turned out to be a beautiful day outside (sunny and 60ish). So, when I get home tonight – now that I have roughly an hour before it gets dark – I’m going to measure the columns and order those bases! If I’m ever going to get anything done, I’ve got to stop talking about it and start doing it.
*******
Congratulations to Barbara of Furlong, PA for winning the $200 gift certificate towards a Home Depot tool rental from Charles and Hudson. I was going to enter, but wasn’t sure what I’d rent if I won. (You know my tool obsession. I’m not sure I’d want to give anything back!)

Besides, I’m saving my contest luck for One Project Closer’s annual “Before and After” series. It starts May 21. Me and my brick porch and walkway, we are SO there!

Me vs. Cholesterol

When I got in Monday night, the mother says: “There’s a message for you on the answering machine from the doctor’s office.”

I listened. It was one of the nurses telling me that my LDL cholesterol (the bad sh*t) was 148. It needs to be much closer to 100 ideally, or, at the very least, below 130. What she didn’t tell me were two other numbers: my HDL (good cholesterol) and triglyceride levels. That’s stupid. That’s only giving me part of the picture! (And, I was under the assumption you needed to fast before getting an accurate LDL reading. Nevermind that I'd eaten just a few hours before my appointment.)

And already, they’re talking about putting me on drugs for it. Um … no. I’m not doing that. You can write out any prescription you want. I ain’t fillin’ it because if the condition doesn’t kill you, the drugs just might. Have you listened to the commercials advertising that sh*t? I have. I will not permit these people to kill me, thank you very much.

Suffice it to say there are going to be some changes around this D*mn House.

I know it’s a necessity. I also know I’m capable of it. Not that long ago, most of my clothes were hanging on me. Other items that hadn’t been worn in a good long while –because they were waaaay too tight -- had been welcomed back into the closet rotation. Why? Not only was I super-busy at TDH, I was also very conscious of everything I ate. And it showed.

But then 2009 continued the nervous, edgy ride that all of Q4 2008 had been and I wasn’t so good about what I was eating anymore. That changes today. Actually, I already kind of started yesterday. I gagged down plain oatmeal (because there wasn’t any apples and cinnamon)and tried to do trail mix as a snack (which turns out to have more crap in it than a candy bar. Go figure.)

Last night, I bought an assortment of things to help: fruit, granola bars, yogurt. And tomorrow night, when it’s grocery store night, I’ll get even more of a variety. Because the good news is that if I have all of these things handy, I will eat them.

I may want something else, but I’ll eat these.

Brush Up on Painting

Once the weather does officially turn warm – and stay that way – paint will be back in the plans. When I finally get the boards on the shed, either the mother or I will have to paint them. (This may or may not wait until the annual Memorial Day sale on Behr paint which gets you back $5 on a gallon. I’m betting it does.)

Paint really should be a four-letter word. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating: It’s not a coincidence that the first four letters of paint spell “pain.”

The mother also has a boatload of gingerbread to paint and I’ll have to remember to put wood screws on a pending hardware shopping list so that I’ll be ready to put those bad boys up!

That’s probably why this item over at UniqueDaily.Com, and featured by Charles & Hudson, caught my eye a few days ago. It made me feel a little closer to normal. Not much, but a little. Of course, this is the same site that offers up a recipe for Vodka gummi bears.

Frankly though, I prefer to have my paint meltdowns at The Home Depot as we saw last fall. And it’s not because I can’t choose a color – more because they can’t correctly make the color I chose.

Tuesday ToolTalk: The Lawnmower

When the time change took effect last month, it was still pitch black when I left for work in the morning. I’m happy to report today, within minutes of boarding the bus, the sun is rising in the sky. That’s a very welcome change.

What hasn’t changed from about a month ago is the temperature. It’s in the 30s this morning, quite cold indeed. I’m beginning to think that winter is never going to end.

The grass is green and growing at an alarming rate, so much so that I know the lawnmower is going to come out very soon. Maybe even this weekend. I was going to buy a new mower this year, but I’m going to see if I can’t limp this one along ‘til next spring. Next spring when, ideally, things like raises and bonuses are back.

That means I’ll need to do a few things to get the mower running:
1. Replace the oil. I usually drain the engine every season. This is something Young Tom did religiously and he would haunt me if I didn’t.
2. Check the filter. I’m usually pretty good about cleaning the filter before I put ‘er away in the fall, but frankly, with everything that was going on last year, I’m not sure if I did. It’s really not a big deal though. Rinse it off with a little soapy water, coat it with a thin layer of engine oil, and put it back in place.
3. Buy some gas. The good news is that gas is cheap, so I’ll probably top out my 2-gallon container. I’m usually pretty careful though about not buying too much, regardless of price, because “old” gas can make a mower run badly. I usually don’t keep gas more than 30 days, though I think you’re safe up to right around 60 days.

At this point, the forecast is calling for dry weather and highs in the 60s for the weekend, so maybe I can not only give the lawn its first cut, but also get back to work on the shed and get it finished. That would get those boards out of the family room and I could begin to think about how to make sense of the mess that’s down there.

You’ve got to start someplace, right?

Death and Taxes

“In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." – Benjamin Franklin

As for death, we’ve seen quite enough of it around here. And taxes? Well, those were filed months ago with refunds long since received. Or, more correctly, the ones where refunds were coming were filed. Now there's a deadline fast-approaching next week. Ugh.

Living in one state and working in another is a hassle that materializes only at tax time. Otherwise, those twice-daily trips across the river are the only evidence that I don’t live and work in the same state.

As a result, I have not yet filed my Illinois taxes. I’m not getting anything back from them, which more or less make the federal and Missouri forms more of a priority. Based on this news story, it’s probably a really good thing that I did Missouri in a hurry, too.

In Illinois, I have to not only fill out the state 1040 form, I have to fill out a CR form to get credit for what I pay to Missouri. Then, I have to send them copies of both my Missouri and federal tax forms. It has gotten a little easier with the advent of online returns.

That’s another reason why Missouri and federal tax forms get done first. I just key in the information and go. For Illinois, it’s not as simple. There’s a whole set of paperwork to make sure I include.

The kicker is not only am I not getting money back from Illinois, I don’t owe them anything either. At least not ‘til next year when our new governor jacks up the income tax by 5o percent!

Kind of seems like a waste of time, effort, paper, and postage doesn’t it? Especially when you consider how many government officials don’t bother to pay their taxes.

At least I paid mine. I’m just saying I should skip the filing part!

The Wrath of Ole Man Winter

That wicked Ole Man – he just couldn’t go quietly. It’s in the 30s this morning with wind chills in the 20s. While they said snow was possible, there hasn’t been any yet. Just cold rain and a light drizzle.

This isn’t exactly the weather that one would expect for Opening Day of the baseball season. No, not at all.

I have colleagues who are planning to go today and on Friday, they were already planning to wear long underwear! There were people on the news last night who had made themselves a “tent condo” inf front of the stadium in hopes of getting tickets to the sold-out game. I like baseball and I’ll root for the Cards as hard as anybody, but there’s only one word for people like that: crazy.

The game is supposed to start at 3:15 so getting out of downtown at rush hour tonight should be complete and total chaos. I just can’t wait. *rolls eyes*

I actually do feel a little better today. I’m just very tired. It would have been a good day to stay in bed. If I could get about five or six more hours of sleep, I’m sure I’d feel like a new person.

I should have been able to get some extra sleep yesterday, but Toby was a complete and total menace. As a result, I didn’t get to sleep in like I normally do, so I’m paying for it today. And I spent a good chunk of the day just catching up on those routine things that I can normally divide between Saturday and Sunday.

In spite of the weather, which casts a gloomy shadow on everything at the moment, here’s hoping for a much improved week.

AWOL, Part 2

There were a few key ingredients that made Saturday morning an overly painful time for me.

First, I was attending a funeral. They're just not fun. Second, my aching back found the wooden church pew to be nothing less than a form of medieval torture. (Add this to what I call Catholic calisthenics -- sit, stand, kneel, reverse!) And third, the priest performing the service.

I always HATE when someone who has never met the deceased tries to talk about them on a personal level. Some men and women of the cloth can pull this off quite well. This priest? Not so much. He would start a sentence well and then trail off into something pointless. He opened by talking about the scene played out on the roof of the church (outside, which confused those in the audience who were unfamiliar with the church) and going on to talk about the importance of the Virgin Mary. This then snowballed into him pointing out the beautiful statues around the church.

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. What the hell is this guy talking about? Is he drunk?

"Bill appreciated nature. He liked to hunt and fish." Cool, I thought. This is going better.

"The fish has long been a sign of Christianity, the way Christians would identify with one another." I thought some parallel would then be drawn. But it was not to be.

He went off on a tangent about "the good news" and how the word gospel literally translates to good news. And he kept interspersing the family's last name -- except 90 percent of the time, it wasn't even their name. Most times, it wasn't even close. I bit my tongue a lot before finally leaning over to the mother and whispering: The good news would be if he could get the deceased's last name right, just once.

The priest wasn't the only one guilty of a faux pas. The Knights of Columbus made what would have been a very nice presentation by presenting a gold chalice that would be sent to some church around the world in Uncle Bill's name. It would have been awesome, had before he explained about the chalice, he hadn't said: "unlike an inscription on a pagan plaque ..." to which I immediately noticed the VFW post representative seated across the aisle from me squirm in his seat -- clutching a memorial plaque that he was next up to present.

And then the priest spent between 5 and 10 minutes talking about who could and couldn't take Communion later in the service. During this, he directly addressed the non-Catholics by saying "We love you anyway -- but you can't take Communion. as communion means community and unity and if you're not part of the community ..."

A lovely bit of talking down to that group. Never mind that at least 98 percent of those present were either Catholic or at least raised that way, so we knew the rules already.

The bright spot in the service were eulogies from a nephew and niece. These went a long way to make up for all the foibles. The best part: seeing three of my two baby cousins' (who are now in their 30s) children deliver the gifts during offertory. They're 9, 7, and 6 and too cute for words.

But the day only got better.

The MonkeyGirl picked me up later in the afternoon and I got to salvage most of my planned scrapbooking event. Laughing with good friends, and playing with my pictures is always fun. And she and I finally got to catch up after not seeing each other for months.

It was a great way to end what had been a really distressing week.

AWOL

I don't do these extended silences for very long, but the past few days have been awash with emotion and activity, making it hard to find both the time and the mental capacity to try to string words together in a coherent way.

Friday
I worked until noon and then went to spend 2.5 hours in the doctor's office. Within the first 2o minutes I found out that: I don't have diabetes (blood sugar after eating 2 hours earlier was 107). Both my red and white blood cell counts appeared healthy. (No appearance of sinister disease at work.) And no sign of a urinary tract infection, so it would also appear no kidney or related issues were involved. All good news.

Then, I spent about 25 minutes in various and very uncomfortable positions getting xrayed. By the time I got up, my back hurt 10 times worse than it did when I got there. The fancy photos showed no broken bones in my back -- more good news. Xrays don't however shed much light on thinks like nerve and disc problems. So, the diagnosis for now is sciatica (just like suspected) due to a compressed nerve in or near my tailbone. This is possibly an after effect from the bookcase incident way back in January. The doctor said it can take some time for these kinds of injuries to make themselves known and the fact that my current pain started about 4-6 weeks after the fact seems to fit in with his diagnosis.

So, for now, I've got anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxers. Applying heat and avoiding lifting more than 20-25 pounds during the next few weeks is also part of the regimen. (Thankfully, this is not during a project like the walkway where lifting 40-60 pound bags of materials was normal.) When I go back later this month, if it's not much better, the next step is an MRI.

Saturday
Saturday began very early. I was up nearly as early as on a weekday even though I hadn't gone to bed until almost 2. The mother and I were dressed and out the door shortly after 8.

We were supposed to meet our family at 8:30 at the church. We were there a few minutes early, giving me plenty of time to marvel at the empty lot where one of my gradeschools (I went to two different ones in three total buildings) once stood. I knew it had been torn down years ago (one of my first jobs at the newspaper was to cover the Archdiocesan hearings that would ultimately close the school) but this was my first time seeing it. It was very strange indeed. It was a neat old building with lots of beautiful wood accents, including its original floors in each classroom, and a huge marble entryway that carried through the steps to the second floor.

The church across the street, site of the funeral, appeared to still be in good shape. It has a huge dome and I can remember being a kid and marveling at its size. The interior was equally large, about 3 to 4 times the size of the church for the other half of the merged parish, the tiny church where my grandparents were married and both buried from, where I was baptized, took First Communion, made my confession, and was confirmed. (And the same tiny place where Uncle Bill and his late wife, my grandmother's baby sister, were too.)

Oddly, when we walked inside, I was immediately taken by how small the church seemed. I said this to the mother. Oh, it's plenty big. I just recalled it being so much bigger. Later, when a small crowd gathered for the visitation, I couldn't help but laugh when a fire captain in his late 40s, someone who was several grades ahead of me in school but who took great joy in regularly knocking me down after school, said to his mother: I remember this place being so much bigger.

It's the first time I'd ever been to a visitation inside a Catholic church. Granted, I haven't been a practicing Catholic for more than 20 years, but I've still been to at least a dozen funerals during that time. It's not done regularly that I know of. I have to say, after a lifetime of seeing this process done one way, it was awkward and I didn't like it. It was particularly awkward and heart-wrenching when, just before Mass was to begin, the funeral directors came in, carefully removed the floral drape and closed the coffin -- with about 75 people watching. Then, they rolled the coffin out to the vestibule so it could be draped and blessed before returning for the funeral mass.

I'll continue in another post. This one is getting out of hand!

Can't We Get It Right?

Both the viewing and the funeral are on Saturday.

There’s a point in all this that’s bothersome to me. OK, truthfully, there’s many points in all this that’s bothersome to me, but only one that has nothing to do with last wishes, family issues, or my previously made weekend plans.

And that’s time of death. They have his death date listed as yesterday. He most assuredly did not die on April 2. Granted, he died in the final hour of April 1, but, since he was not on Eastern Time, he technically died April 1. Apparently, they go by when the official from Hospice arrived on the scene. This must be part of procedure for an at-home death.

I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much. It probably just gives me something to focus my attention on while avoiding the obvious. But still, shouldn’t your death date be accurate if someone actually knows when you died?

I know there are cases where no one knows for sure and all a coroner can do is guess. I sat through years of inquests and there were at least one or two of those annually, including murder cases where someone was found days or even weeks later. Those bothered me, too.

I guess it’s no different really than births in the old days. I seem to recall there was some dispute about which side of midnight my grandmother – who was born at home in 1910 – arrived on. She used the “official” record, Feb.8, though I think her mother always contended that the actual date was Feb. 7.

I guess it must be both the reporter (I was one for several years) and the genealogist in me. I like to be as accurate as I can, in part, because telling that story is really the only thing I can do for my ancestors. And I feel like I owe it to them to get it right.

Apparently, more "official" channels don't agree.

Renovation Realities

Oh. My. God. The mother and I laughed for almost a half-hour solid. Last night (several hours ahead of the phone call), there was this crazy guy named Shae on HGTV on a show called “Renovation Realities.”

Within a few minutes:
· Without knowing where the shut-off valve was, he took a saw to a gas line. Then he casually says: “I guess the worst thing is that the house could blow up.” Duh!
· After removing a beam from the kitchen, he wiped out the glass in a French door while carrying it into the back yard.
· He wanted his wife to buy 10 tape measures because he keeps misplacing his. (She only bought eight, but he’d lost most of those by the end of the show.)
· Thought 45 minutes would be enough time to install cabinets.

And that’s just some of the foibles. Maybe it’s wrong to enjoy the misfortunes of others this much. (No, it’s not. This guy’s an idiot.) I have to say, if you’re feeling bad about your own projects, or even if you just need a good laugh, definitely check this show out.

“I haven’t laughed this much in weeks,” quoth the mother. (And she hasn’t.) I was laughing pretty hysterically, too. I may even have to try and watch it again!

A Long Night

My grandmother was about 10 years older than her younger sister. So, the mother served as a surrogate child of sorts for her aunt and uncle until my godmother – their own child – arrived. I’m not sure how or why, and I’m not sure Uncle Bill himself could have told you, but he started calling the mother “Stinky Sue.”

It was a title that transferred to his own daughter (my godmother). From her, it came to me. And when he got his own real granddaughter, my baby cousin, it went from me to her. (I had the joy of being their surrogate grandchild for the first seven years of my life, much the way the mother had been their surrogate child.)

I used to stay all night at their house – just across town, a 10-minute walk – from my childhood home. And, along with my grandmother, I was a regular “anytime” guest. We would walk over to visit her sister quite a bit. As a kid, I was always fascinated by my aunt's microwave (it was the early '70s and not everybody had one) and the play-by-number organ in their livingroom. They were among the first people I ever knew with a "finished" basement and they spent most of their time down there.

Back then, Uncle Bill was the city’s fire chief. When I was little, I can remember marveling at his firefighter boots which were nearly as tall as I was. They sat at the end of the hallway, next to the cove in the wall where the main upstairs telephone was.

An even greater sight to marvel at was of Uncle Bill, charging toward and jumping into those boots when the fire whistle went off. (At about 6’4 or 6’5, this was not a small man.) The grace with which he landed inside his targets could rival Fred Astaire.

Sadly, Uncle Bill will call none of us Stinky Sue, or any other name, ever again. He died late last night. The phone call came, oddly enough, while I was texting the MonkeyGirl about Saturday. Talk about timing. Those plans may have to change now. Proof positive that I can never plan anything.

The mother went over to the house, where luckily, my godmother hadn't been alone. I waited up for her. She came back about 1:30 a.m. A nearby funeral home had just left the scene as well. I had no idea that there was so much bureaucracy tied to dying, even if you were in a hospice program. (That meant that more than 2.5 hours passed between the time he died and the time the funeral home showed up.)

I wasn't surprised by his death -- I've known it was coming. I guess I thought it would be longer. I'm glad for his sake -- and for my godmother's -- it wasn't. Consider it a sick April Fool's joke. I'm still sticking by my theory that death is a design flaw. It should be easier.

Death has darkened my doorway quite a lot lately. Please go away now.

Loose Ends

One of the loose ends I need to clear up is finishing the columns on the front porch. When I put the brick down, I just worked around the base of each column. I didn’t attempt to raise it up.

All that did was create something of a basin for rainwater around each column. I actually found somewhere I could buy just a PVC base almost five months ago. Do you think I’ve done anything about it? Um, no.

I need to remeasure, see which ones I need, add two more for the carport for when I get to fixing it and the driveway, and get them already!

I need to get started on the shed, too, and Saturday would be a perfect day to do it, but … I’m going to a marathon crop with the MonkeyGirl. (It’s at her work and for a good cause. AND … I haven’t seen her since bleepin’ JANUARY!) You might recall that she kidnapped me the last time they had one of these. This time, she didn’t need to twist my arm.

I refuse to feel guilty, even though I did do a marathon last month – but it wasn’t 12 hours like this one. It was only 9. (Justification mode has kicked in.) Between work, Tigger, and Uncle Bill, I can really use the break.

The Farmer’s Almanac is predicting a warmer and drier April and May. Here’s hoping. I’d like to get a much earlier start than last year!

Midweek Musings

I called the transit office on the way home last night and I asked the driver this morning – no sign of my work badge. Here’s hoping that the cleaners found it on the bus last night. If not, I’ll have to get a new one.

Seems like a rather insignificant thing right now. My godmother is having a harder and harder time with her father. It doesn’t seem like Uncle Bill has too many days left. In some ways, that’s a blessing. Watching him slowly deteriorate is cruel for both of them. Even so, it’s got to be hard knowing what’s coming. (She’s a hospice nurse by profession, on leave to care for her dad.) She’s a very empathetic person anyway and is almost always deeply touched by the death of a patient. So I can’t begin to imagine how this must be for her.

The house always seems to be full as he has a big family. She’s lucky that her aunts and uncle, her kids, and even a friend or two stand ready to help. (Some of them though are old and sick themselves so I think she probably ends up caring for them a little, too.) And, the mother and I are just minutes away which has been a blessing more than once already.

The mother has been talking to her often and helping where she can. And she’s upset, too. I can’t even temporarily distract her with talk of appliances. That’s pretty bad.

On the plus side, it’s going to be a gorgeous day. The sun is already shining brightly so I can slip on my new shades, crank up the iPod and not think about anything.

Why I Hate Doctors

Or at least why I hate calling their offices. It's bad enough that you get an answering machine, even after you push the number that the automated system told you to in order to "make an appointment or speak to a receptionist." And this wasn't during evening or early, early, hours either. This was between 9 and 10 a.m.

I finally did reach someone in the afternoon. I may have been better off with the automated system.


NV: Yes, I’m a patient of Dr. X’s and they said to call today and make an appointment this week. I can do any day except tomorrow.

Receptionist: How about 10:30 Wednesday?

NV: That’s tomorrow – the one day I can’t do.

Receptionist: 2:15?

NV: Not if it’s on Wednesday.

Receptionist: Oh. Well, that time isn’t available the rest of the week.

NV: No problem. Is there another time that is available?

Receptionist: How about 1 p.m.?

NV: What day? Thursday or Friday?

Receptionist: That was for Wednesday. Oh, wait. You can’t do Wednesday, right?

(This was starting to sound like an Abbott and Costello bit.)

Now I have a headache, too. But I did manage to get an appointment – on a day that’s NOT Wednesday. Finally. I think I might have had better luck with someone who didn’t even speak English.

Feels Like Monday

I know it’s Tuesday, but I would swear it’s Monday. The whole day has been a comedy of errors – more typical of a Monday.

It started out by raining, followed quickly by me losing my badge for work. It doesn’t have my name on it or company name on it so I don’t think any wrongful use can be gained from it. And it HAD to have slipped from my pocket on the bus. I realized I didn’t have it just as I reached the lobby this morning. And went immediately back out into the rain and retraced my steps all the way to where I exited the bus. Honestly, I can’t believe this has never happened before in nearly 8.5 years. Here’s hoping I can get it back.

I need to call them, or I might just ask my driver to radio it in tonight. (My regular evening driver should be back today.) I’ve been trying to call the doctor’s office to schedule an appointment for a workup, some of which requires fasting. Right now, it sounds like a case of sciatica, so I’m taking high doses of ibuprofen.

I feel a little better. I just have to get up a lot. Sitting for more than five minutes gets rough, unless I wiggle and squirm. (That’s going to be precious with a client in for meetings tomorrow. I’ll no doubt be the crazy woman who fidgets constantly.)

The Sistahood

I’ve been very lucky. Blogging has put me in touch with tons of awesome people. Some that I know only in Cyberspace like Vicky, Ann, and Jayne. Or it’s put me in touch on a more regular basis with people I know in real life, like KayO, MamaMartha and sewwhat.

But among my regular readers – and commenters – I’m proud to include three of the very best friends in the whole world. You know them as cd, the MonkeyGirl, and plumbelieve. Both cd and the Monkeygirls (Mr. and Mrs.) have had active roles in This D*mn House projects. But get this, that’s not even half of ‘em! That’s right. There’s more! Four more to be accurate.

These seven fine ladies and I went to high school together. Our lives have now been intertwined for more than twice as long as they weren’t. And while the gatherings have tapered off over the years (due to conspiracies involving jobs, spouses, homes, weather, family vacations, and children) the bond is not diminished. It doesn’t seem to matter whether we last spoke five months ago or five minutes ago.

But the gatherings have tapered off. So, a serious nod to plumbelieve for taking the initiative in getting everyone together. She’s put a call out to regroup one Friday night next month. All eight have responded so far. (One of whom will be there in spirit only as she lives out west. A second may or may not make it due to a previous engagement. A third will come if the eldest daughter doesn’t have a game.) Not a bad showing at all. Now if we can all just get there.

I know it will be a great time.

Waylaid

A nasty, nagging backache that has been causing me grief for a while, has me waylaid today. I'm giving in and staying home, stretching out on some heat.

It might be another round of sciatica, because my right leg and foot are involved this time. It might be my nerves. i might have pulled something out of whack. Who knows? I've been trying to call the doctor's office without success. (Answering machine is still on.)

Not sure what good he'll do. He always acts like I'm nuts. (This was the doc who let me go with a sinus infection for three months. Allergist cleared me up in a single visit.) Thinking it's time to get a new one, but it's hard to find one accepting new patients.

Love those PPOs.

Finality

I had postponed the inevitable long enough.

The ground was snow-covered part of the day, and filled with mud for the rest, coupled with vicious winds. So, I could not take the final of final steps. But today, I did everything but that.

In opening the door, the absence of light seemed out of place. But the mother had turned out the lamp days ago. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I cleared away all the bedding. (Tigger had four beds at one point.) I dismantled and pitched his well worn scratch post. I threw away his pillows. And mats. And bowls. I emptied and discarded his litterbox.

I created a bag for things that could or should be laundered. Everything else, I threw away. It seemed so wrong as I did it. It seemed surreal. It took several episodes of stop/start to complete the task.

Once I had carried everything outside (tomorrow is trash day), I started pushing things back into place. (We'd moved things to make it easier for Tigg to navigate.) I ran the sweeper and mopped the floor.

I surveyed the scene. An empty bed shell. A stack of laundry. The only evidence that a cat had once existed here: the frame of a window perch and some toys scattered on different parts of the floor.

Once outside, the darkened window caught me. (Second time in as many days.) But I did it. I trudged back into the house and breathed a sigh of relief.

A Messed-Up Calendar

Clearly, Mother Nature didn't get a calendar for Christmas. I know it happens, but it's just not supposed to look like this a full week into spring. My neighbor's just-blooming flowers look oddly out of place, don't they?

This photo was from early this morning. At least now it is already going away.

I think we got between 2 and 3 inches at most. The sun came out a little while ago and between it, and a slowly rising temperature, the snow should soon be a remnant.

Works for me.

Springtime? Really?

Yesterday, it was almost 60 degrees and sunny. It didn’t start out that way, but as the morning progressed, it turned into an awesome day. I only got to enjoy it on the way home.

So, of course, it’s raining today. And now that the grass is turning green and the trees and flowers are blooming, it’s going to snow. Yep. I said s-n-o-w. (A four-letter word with good reason.)

The rain will mix with snow later today and then change to all snow overnight. They’re saying 2-4 now, but that it could be 4-6, and if the “thundersnow” happens, well … we don’t even want to talk about it.

The last time I heard a forecast for 2-4 inches of snow and we were hit with thundersnow … it was January 1982. We ended up getting more than a foot and it shut St. Louis down for days.

The mother and I are preparing to head out in a bit and grab some stuff so that going anywhere tomorrow isn’t necessary. I imagine we’ll have lots of company in our travels.

I feel real bad for my young colleague that we had the bridal shower for earlier this month. She’s getting married this afternoon. Maybe it will hold off long enough for folks to get through dinner at her reception. I hope that everyone stays safe and that it all goes well.

That’s the thing about life in this part of the country. No matter what time of year you plan something, there is always that change for some kind of weather anomaly.

So, off we go. But the best part is that when we come back, we’ll have Chinese food!

Itchin’ for a Kitchen

The topic hasn’t been breached in a while, but, redoing the kitchen came up again last night. The mother restated her desire for new appliances, though I don’t know what we can get when she was stuck so unwaveringly on this model, an appliance that will not fit in This D*mn Kitchen.

I should have seen this coming, what, with the sighs followed by, "I wish my kitchen looked like that," whenever any HGTV show sports a nice, new kitchen, complete with stainless appliances.

I’ve yet to measure using this formula I found online to get a rough estimate as to what we need for countertops and she wants to go to some shop in a nearby town and look. I have no idea if $39/sq. ft installed is cheap for granite! (Somehow, she seems to think I know all this stuff as if this information should fall as trippingly from my brain as the questions seem to from her lips.)

OK. My brain is trying to add this up as we go. New appliances. Paint or stain for the cabinets. (We already have the new hardware for the cabinets as well as the sink fixtures.) New sink and countertop. And we haven’t even discussed flooring yet. I’d love to get ceramic or marble but I worry about putting that much weight down. D*mn. This is getting expensive fast.

“But I have to get my ceiling first,” she said suddenly. Huh? The Michelangelo Project likewise has been a non-discussion topic for a while. It, too, seems to be front-burner again. Of course it is. It is the mother’s preferred approach to projects, the one whereby there is complete and total chaos.

Nevermind that the family room is now jam-packed with supplies for her bedroom and mine, and the storage shed, as well as an assortment of yet-to-be-painted gingerbread for outside.

Oh, and lest we forget TWO pieces of furniture for said familyroom that are in need of assembly as is the new mantelpiece, that also needs to be stained. And, as an extra project bonus, the downstairs ceiling needs to be patched from adventures in electricity and the closet, built more than a year ago, still needs to be trimmed out. I’ve now made myself tired, just contemplating all of it.

By all means – let’s start on the kitchen. We don’t have anything else to do.

Speaking of kitchens … If you aren’t already a follower of Jayne over at The Kelly House (formerly Dainty Digs) now is a great time to start reading her adventures. Unfortunately for Jayne, weather has sidelined her porch and kitchen projects. Unfortunately for the rest of us, it also halts the adventures of Jayne and her ex, Mare, who is helping her with these efforts.

They’re on hold ‘til late next week.

Luckily, there already are two installments in what I dubbed Kellapalooza. And therein, I feel is also the beginnings of one hysterical play, or maybe even a sitcom, as Jayne has shown that her talents are not limited to her profession and DIY.

At Long Last

Most days, I really love my job. But, just like everybody else, I still wait for Friday.

And finally, at long last, it’s here! This has been an exceptional week, so in a lot of ways, it was really good that I’ve been as busy as I have. I even have another busy day ahead today.
I was quiet last night because the Ladybird needed some love. The other night, amidst all the Tigger drama unfolding, I walked out to find that the mother had left the headlights on on the car. Luckily, only about 30-40 minutes had passed between the time she got home from Uncle Bill’s and I took off to get a few things or I might have gone out to a dead car.

The reminder bell that tells you when you’ve left your lights on was dinging to beat the band. How in God’s name had she gotten out of the car and not heard that?

In addition to noticing that the lights were on, I also noticed that only one of them was burning. Remember a few months ago when I had a fishtank for a headlight? It didn’t do that again at least, but it was burned out just the same. I was too tired Wednesday – and probably wouldn’t have made it in time anyway – to get it fixed. Since we needed an oil change anyway, the mother picked me up last night at the depot and we shot up the highway to the evil Wal-Mart’s automotive department.

We got in right away and it only took them 30 minutes or so to both change the oil and headlight. In the meantime, the mother and I did some household shopping, including picking up some items my godmother needed for Uncle Bill.

The mother has been over there every day this week; I’ve even been by once. It’s really hard to watch. I’m going to add dying to my list of what I think are human design flaws. It’s too hard. It should be much easier for not only the person who is dying, but for those who love them. (Actually, this applies to more than just humans, now that I think about it.)

What, you may ask, do I consider to be other design flaws? The first, and largest by far, is a lack of satisfaction. I don’t know anyone, myself included, no matter how good they’ve got it who wouldn’t rather have something else or something more. We don’t know when to quit, we humans. More. There always has to be more.

Case in point: The other design flaw on my list. I think that two is a grossly inadequate number of hands. (I know the moms are with me on this one.) C’mon admit it. You’ve wished you had another hand or two or six. I know I have. On the downside, manicures would be more time-consuming. And the cost of nail polish? Oy!

Unfortunately, I don’t think the extra hands would help me much today. Unless an extra pair of eyes came with them. Now there’s a thought ….

A New Routine

Twice yesterday I had to remind myself.

I need to check on … Oh, right.

Hey, I’ve got to feed … no. No, I don’t.

This morning, I got up, stumbled through the dark house, and was standing in front of the refrigerator when it hit me. Oh, yeah. I’d even forgotten to reset my alarm. I now have an extra 15-20 minutes in the morning.

Responsibility for Tigger had shifted through the years. I initially was the main caretaker. Then, I switched jobs and had to be in by 5 a.m. and the mother retired, so she took over. When she got sick a few years ago, I took that responsibility back and I just never stopped. (She has 95 percent responsibility for Toby and about 70 percent for Ozzie during the week. And she’s fanatical about their care. If everyone were cursed with this kind of care, I guarantee you that the world would be infinitely more peaceful.)

Until the past few weeks, Tigg and I had a well established system. I guess it’s time to create a new morning routine. I guess I’ll just play it by ear and see how it goes.

One big plus for me in all this has been discovering just how many people really, really love their animals. They are full-fledged family members; way beyond pet status. So it’s nice to not be thought of as totally nuts but to instead find such a well of understanding. A lot of you are responsible for that. I thank you for taking the time to share those feelings with me.

The mother was much better last night. She said that, for all the trouble he is, it made it easier having Toby. (And believe me, he’s a lot of trouble. But he’s cute.) Toby had been uncharacteristically loving yesterday, and Ozzie, who was not sure what to do with her crying was even more attentive than normal. And both were apparently on their best behavior yesterday. It’s amazing how they know.

I went to bed early (for me anyway) and, considering all the sleep I didn’t get the night before, am better for it. Good thing, too, as it’s going to be a busy day.

I Love My Nano

To say that today got off to a bad start would be sugar-coating it.

First, I couldn’t sleep. I finally gave up before 4:30. And then … well, you know the story between then and when I left for work. Our family shrank.

Second, I did not want to break down in front of the mother who was already upset enough between having spent yesterday with Uncle Bill and now, Tigger. So, though I willed them away, the tears fell on the bus. I got plenty of stares. Nice.

Third, while I could handle that, at the depot, the Brothers Weird boarded and WEIRDER SAT BEHIND ME. Directly behind me. Trying to look onto my computer, and muttering away to himself the whole time, occasionally going into that straight high-pitched Elmo voice at ear-shattering volume, mimicking everything the driver said. It was a little slice of Hell.

At one point, I almost moved even though I would have had to march to the back of the bus to get a seat. (The bus was kind of full this morning. Of course, it would be today.) I had to will myself to not spin around – Linda Blair style – and just yell, “CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE F**K UP?!” And I swear, if he had touched me, as he might have had I not been trying to type, I would have decked him. Clean-up on Aisle 5, man.

Instead, my Nano proved worth its weight in gold. Counting Crows, Sting, Chris Botti, Warren Zevon, and Paula Cole soothed my nerves the rest of the ride.

And work? Most people are nice there as a general rule, but people were SO nice and so understanding – it was a little overwhelming, but in a good way. A very good way.

The Other Side of the Window

It was a very warm Saturday in June 1992 and the mother was recuperating after being hit by a car. Trying to make sure that she was OK and work had me frazzled.

And on this particular day, I had to work, thanks to my boss at the time who had volunteered me for a several-month project that culminated with a huge event that day.

I got an early start and then dashed home to check in on the mother around mid-day. “I keep hearing a cat,” she told me. I heard it, too, but since birds often mimic cats, I didn’t think too much of it. I got the mother some lunch and prepared to leave.

As I walked toward my car, I heard a greater sense of urgency in those cries. I threw my stuff in the car and walked toward the sound.

I looked in the tree that is just beyond our property line, but because it was in full bloom, I couldn’t see much of anything, yet the cries kept getting louder. All of sudden, my eye caught something dark mid-tree. It was a tiny tail! There was a kitten in the tree! I ran back inside to tell the mother and got a ladder. I was very near the top rung when suddenly, the kitten sensed my presence and darted a few branches higher.

I gingerly stepped off the ladder and into the tree. This time, he didn’t go up, he moved horizontally, out onto a skinny branch. Somehow, he clung to it and the branch didn’t break.
What I didn’t notice was that the mother had ambled outside. She had broken some ribs and messed up a knee and a shoulder, so this took some effort on her part. I returned to the ladder and she yelled, “I can reach it!”

Before I could discourage her, she thrust the cane she was using to the top of the branch, handle side up, and tugged. The kitten couldn’t hang on, and in a split second, I was holding him. He had fallen right into my arms.

When I set him down to go inside – I figured he could use a little milk after his ordeal – he walked right into the house as if he owned it. Though we tried to find him a home elsewhere, he never left.

Until this morning.

Very early this morning, in the hours before dawn, Tigger headed for the Rainbow Bridge. My distinguished old gentleman (right at age 17) who loved to lay in the window and peer out is now on the other side. And, God bless him, he didn’t make me intervene.

Enjoy your freedom, old friend. We’ll miss you.

R.I.P, TIGGER 1992-2009

Thrifty Consumerism Strikes Again

We all know my penchant for tools and for getting something to work in a way that maybe the manufacturer didn’t intend. Well, Mustang Sally over at Absurd and Askew managed to appeal to both of those character flaws of mine in a post she did on the Pledge Fabric Sweeper.

First, I like this product. I don’t, however, like not being able to empty it. It’s not very environmentally friendly to put that much plastic back into the waste stream, and it does fill up pretty fast. I can see from a manufacturer’s perspective where that would be an asset, though as a consumer buying a product that costs $5-$6, it’s anything but.

I use it about every other night on the loveseat and sofa. We have waffled slipcovers on both pieces of furniture, where both Ozzie and Toby are frequent fixtures, and it does a good job of nabbing the hairs that lodge in the crevices. I also use it religiously before tossing either these slipcovers or any one of the mongrels’ beds into the wash.

In that post, Sally links to this post which offers some instructions on modifying this otherwise disposable product (and what a waste to do that!) There are also some other good ideas in the comment section of that post.


You just know that I’m going to try one or more of them!

An Unexpected Find

My first visit to Home Depot over the weekend didn’t get all the materials I was after, but it did reveal something I’d been looking for without success: new drain extenders.

The current ones date back to 1987/88 when the carport was built and the mother had enough of the wrought iron out front and replaced it with the columns. (I wish I’d been smart enough to take pictures back then.) So you can imagine that they aren’t in great shape. They’ve seen a few too many violent storms and more than their share of snow and ice.

The hardware stores haven’t had these for years. I know, because I’ve looked. Sometime in the last several months, I found some online but then winter came and all other kinds of issues with it and I forgot about them. They were around $8 apiece.

The ones at Home Depot were under $6.50! Luckily, I did some wandering while looking for my PVC boards for the shed and there they were among the drains and downspouts. They hadn’t been there before when I was actively looking for them. And, store associate after store associate would tell me there was no such thing. Uh-huh.

I don’t have them all on yet (the mother insists that the drains be cleaned first), but I wanted to see if the plastic mounting bracket was going to slide easily over the drain. You know, like it shows on the label. If your experience is anything like mine, things rarely go like they do on the package.

But it did.

A sheet metal screw in each side and it’s firmly in place. And it also lets you flip up the drain to get it out of your way. Perfection.

Things That Make Me Smile

OK, I admit, I've been a downer lately. There's a lot going on that isn't good, but that's no reason to completely overlook the good is it? I don't think so.

So on that note, I've decided to recognize some of the things that make me smile.

Today was crazy busy at work. All day. That's a good thing. Definitely smile-worthy.

70-degree weather. With sun, (The day this can't make me smile, at least for a minute, you know it's time to just give up.)

Comments. Comments almost always make me smile. And emails from published authors? Oh yeah. You see both rows of pearly whites with those.

And these two. These two make me smile. A lot.

Doesn't Toby just look like he's thinking up some kind of mischief? Maybe 'cause he is!

The prospect of going home. (On my way now.) THAT makes me smile.

There's lot of reasons to smile. Lots and lots of 'em. Some days you just have to look a little harder than others.

My Faux Brother

This is a tough day for me. It's an extremely bittersweet one at any rate. You see, I wasn't always an only child.

The first half of my life, I had a pseudo-sibling. A brother from another mother, if you will. We weren't really siblings at all, but we always thought of one another that way. He was an only child (well, until he was 11). I was an only child. And we were born almost four months to the day apart. Our family jokingly referred to us as the twins. We lived down the street from one another for a good chunk of my life and we were inseparable.

His mother and my mother were first cousins. I would go places with him and his parents and people always assumed we were brother and sister. It was wonderful for me because I felt like a "real" family as I never had siblings and usually didn't have a father present.

His name was Steven and he was my first friend. He was the brother I didn't get from my parents. We were friends, quite literally, from Day One. Today is his birthday. And, he and I last spoke on this day in 1987.

It was a brief conversation. It was mostly chit-chat. I just wanted to make sure I called to say "happy birthday." It was particularly important because he was in the hospital and I thought it might cheer him up. What I didn't know at the time was that he was dying.

His responses to me were very slow, very unlike him. He finally said, "I'm kind of tired." I apologized and told him to go rest. Those were the last words from him I ever heard.

He slipped into a coma that night. He died a week later. He was 22.

As sad as that is, the happy part is that he lived 15 years longer than he was expected to. He suffered from chronic nephritis, an illness that had ravaged his kidneys after a strep infection had initially gone untreated.

He got sick not long after this photo was taken. There are dozens, maybe even hundreds, of pictures of the two of us together. This has always been my favorite.

He started dialysis in his teens and had a kidney transplant at age 21. It rejected less than a year later, leading to his death.

What's always been inconsolably sad to me is that if it were now, he'd likely be alive. Kidney transplants are as common as stitches. Anti-rejection medications have a great deal of success. They didn't then.

But the saddest part of all is that he was such a great person. He was funny and warm. (His impressions of cartoon character Droopy and of the Muppets' Swedish Chef were side-splitting.) He was smart, and kind, and supportive. He was everything I could ever have wanted in a brother and then some. And, sick as he was, he never complained.

Next week, it will be 22 years since he died and that wound is nearly as fresh today as it was then. I have this theory: There are certain things you never really get over. You just learn how to deal with them -- or else you go crazy. For me, Steven's death is one of a handful of life experiences that fall into that category.

I learned how to deal. I just never learned how to fill that void. I don't think I ever will.

Spring!

Another case of the weathercasters being wrong. While we were occasionally covered by clouds, it's been sunny and warm (upper 60s) most of the day.

I've been a slug. I pushed a little too much yesterday and today I made up for it by remaining in a self-induced vegetative state. I have been in pajamas all day.

The mother went to the funeral home with her friends (one of their mothers died) so I've had full custody of the creatures all day. That includes Tigger who is still eating, walking around a little more slowly, and talking less.

That's something that is going to become something of the norm in the immediate future. Our cousin is bringing my uncle home from the hospital tomorrow. She is taking a leave from our job to care for him during whatever time he has left. She's enlisted the mother to help. It's going to be a difficult time.

In the meantime, I consoled myself with how green the grass is becoming and with this gorgeous tree that is just beyond our property line.

It's so nice to be able to leave the door open and to be in need of a fan again. LOVE it. In fact, I love it so much, here's a little something I came up with.

Ode to Spring

The tree's in bloom, the grass is green

The blue sky dotted with a single cloud

Ole Man Winter has packed his bags

And Spring has shed her shroud.

The days grow longer, more filled with light

The frigid temps of winter are moving past

The birds are singing and building their nests

As Spring is settling in fast.

The vernal equinox has dawned

Soon the May flowers will get a good douse

Of the April showers that will fall at This D*mn House.

Mmm, breakfast!

That's what one of our resident squirrels appears to be saying about these Sno-balls leftover from St. Patrick's. I get the biggest kick out of these guys. I'm not sure if this is Zig or Zag getting the goods, but he sure looks happy enough about it.

Hostess bakery, even if it is a little stale, can't be too bad a way to start a new day. Especially if you're a squirrel.