The Sleep Factor

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Janice

The cogs are slipping.

I read that expression in a Stephen King book once before, about how somebody was starting to lose his or her mind, and King said that the cogs of reality were wearing down and starting to slip. It was a neat expression (and visual image) that stuck with me. I always sort of thought it was cool.

Until now.

Now that my own cogs are starting to slip, it’s not so cool anymore. See, I’m not sleeping very well. This happens to me sometimes. It seems like every couple of years my internal clock starts slipping its cogs (See? Neat expression!) and I start having insomnia.

I read once that some enormous percentage of the population suffers from insomnia. So, in reality, it isn’t that big of a deal.

Unless it’s me.

Or you live with me.

See, not sleeping starts to do things to me after a while. My usually sunshine-y personality dims. (Hey, it’s my blog, okay? I can make any claim I want.) I start to have a rather dark view of life in general. I grouch, even though I know I’m doing it and I hate it and I try not to do it. In short, I start to feel a little crazy.

Not this kind of crazy,

but more like this kind of crazy:

While people are talking to me, I’m having uncharitable thoughts toward them. I’m not even going to talk about the people I have to encounter out in public.

I also start to lose my motivation. House needs dusting? Who cares. Laundry piling up? Oh well. Dinner needs cooked? Big deal. I guess my give-a-damn runs on sleep, and it’s all out. People seem especially whiny to me. (How ironic, since this whole entire post is basically one, big, protracted whine-fest.) I have to squash the voice in my head that is screaming “I don’t care!” when people are telling me terrible things about their lives.

I also think my decision-making is hampered. My son could come in and ask for my permission to take the van out the road for a spin, and I’d be like, “Sure, that seems like a good idea.” Or it might be the opposite, like he might ask for my permission to, oh, I don’t know, eat, and I’d be like “Why? Why do you need to that? Do you need to do it right now?”

So you see.

So, if I grouch at you (worse than usual) or seem unresponsive, I’m sorry. Right now I need to go.

I’m craving fava beans.

Dog Days

Posted on December 31, 2012 by Janice

First of all, allow me to warn you that this is not so much a blog post as a public service announcement. What can I say? I live to help others.

I got a new puppy a couple of months back. Living with The Grandparents as I did for almost ten years, it wasn’t really appropriate for me to get a larger dog and bring into their house. I already had (and still have) a small, old dog. So I didn’t want to push my luck. Anyway, my point was, as soon as we moved into our own place, I got a puppy. His name is Jack.

This post isn’t about him, though. It’s about dogs in general.

I love dogs. I am a dog person, for sure. Always have been. I’m not an overly demonstrative person, but I get very attached to my canine companions. Also, I try to do what’s right for them. I always try to make sure they have the proper activities and vet care and such. Following this same train of thought (if you can) I take Jack for a walk every day around the neighborhood. We do a couple of miles every day.

Allow me a brief digression. We are Cesar Millan disciples around here. We believe and practice his methods to the very best of our ability. I walk Jack because he needs daily exercise to keep him calm and easy going. He hasn’t chewed up the first thing in my house, he is housebroken, and although we are still working on properly greeting people at the door, he is overall fairly relaxed. Hail Cesar!

Back to my original point (which I hadn’t made yet). When I walk Jack, I carry a stick, pepper spray, and a pellet pistol. Why?

Because of the dogs.

At The Grandmother’s house, there were almost never any loose dogs. I think the main reason was that the main highway went right in front of the house, and that’s not the best environment for a wandering dog.

Here, though, is a one lane country road, and there are lots of dogs. Loose dogs.

We can’t really walk in one direction of our loop road, because there’s about ten dogs running around up there. The other direction of the loop goes just a few dozen yards then runs into the main highway, so forget that. So, naturally, we walk out the one lane road that follows the creek up the hollow for a couple of miles. It’s a lovely walk.

Except for the dogs.

It’s very frustrating. None of my family will walk with me because of the loose dogs that stalk you as you walk. My husband will, but he doesn’t get in until almost dark, and if you’ve read my posts in the past, you know I don’t do dark. So anyway, I’m on my own. My son will go sometimes, and he tries not to be nervous about it, but I know he is. There is one dog in particular who is very aggressive, and my son and Jack sort of cower behind me while I stand her down. Everyone tells me she is just a “teddy bear,” and I’ve seen her being friendly with her owners and with one of her neighbors, and I’ve even tried talking to her and getting her to calm down and come on over and have a sniff, but she’s not having it. Some days she just stands on the porch and barks, but she has actually charged us across the road, and once I even had to poke her with my stick because she got too close. I’m not afraid of dogs, but she is a very big dog, and I sure as hell don’t want to have to get into it with her.

Luckily, I’m a bigger bitch even than she. (I thought I’d say it before you did.)

There are other dogs on our walk, but mostly they just bark. Barking doesn’t bother me. I think most people out in the country have their dogs because they want to be alerted when things are amiss. Fine. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for your pet. I know of local neighborhoods where people have actually been bitten, and kids had to stop riding their bikes on certain public roads because of loose dogs.

Then here’s when it gets ugly–something bad happens, and a dog turns up missing or gets shot. I can’t stand that. I’m not sure under what circumstances I could ever shoot a dog. I love dogs, remember? But then I start thinking. My daughter has this really cool tricycle that she absolutely loves to ride, and I’ve been so excited for her to ride it this summer. The walk out our creek here is reasonably flat, and she could go pretty well.

But what if my nemesis charges my little disabled daughter on her little bike as she rides by? Evelyn is afraid of strange big dogs, and I don’t know how she would react if one came snarling and barking at her. I don’t know how I would react.

I know how my husband says he’s going to react.

Then there’s trouble. You put up with crap and put up with it, then when you finally do something, you’re the dirty dog (pun absolutely intended.) As an example, The Grandparents have these neighbors who used to keep three Siberian Huskies in an eight by ten cage. They never took them out, ever. They dumped the food and water over the top of the cage. The water bowl looked like a frog pond. The mountain of dog shit was literally three feet high, and that is not an exaggeration. The smell was horrific. On humid evenings, you couldn’t even tolerate sitting on the back porch at The Grandparent’s because of the stench. So, finally, The Grandmother called the humane society, and they came and took the one remaining dog (the other two had died.)

Can you guess what happened? The neighbors told everyone what awful people The Grandparents were, and how they had picked on them, blah blah blah. The worst part was that everyone in the neighborhood had complained about it for years, but no one would dare do anything. Then, to top it off, the owners just knocked down Mount Turdious, paid a fine, and then brought the dog right back and put him right back in there again!

The point of my story is that, no matter what, I’m going to end up as the bad guy here. There is no happy ending. Something bad will have to happen, then more bad things will happen. Just a cycle of badness. I want to be friends with all of my neighbors. I don’t even care if their dog come around here. A neighbor up on the hill has an extremely fat yellow lab that waddles around sometimes and says hello. She’s a panting, whole-butt-wagging type of dog. But I also had to chase away two black dogs the other day, because one of them charged at my dad while he was here visiting. What do you do? What’s the answer?

There is no answer. Just the cycle of badness.

Social Isolation

Posted on December 29, 2012 by Janice

A terrible thing is happening.

I’m falling out of love with Facebook.

I think this must be how a heroin addict feels. You hate heroin, but you love it. You never want to see it again, but you can’t live without it.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I couldn’t live without social media, or, more specifically, Facebook. And yet, it holds me.

It holds me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about social media in general lately, and it’s really sort of a sad testament to our culture that our main form of communication occurs without ever having to actually see or talk to anyone. Even family. I’m just as guilty. In all seriousness, probably 90% of my contact with friends and family that I stay in touch with is via social media. So, here’s the question: is that a bad thing?

Maybe it is.

I wonder if we are becoming a people who has zero social interaction skills. How ironic that Facebook (and Twitter, and whatever) is called “social” media. Maybe it should be called anti-social media. We can allegedly fulfill our familial and friendship obligations without ever leaving our reclining chairs (which is, incidentally, where I am sitting right now.) We don’t ever have to send a thank you note, write a letter, or, God forbid, talk to someone.

What’s worse, when you actually do talk to someone, I think the lack of social interaction is showing. No one looks anyone in the eye anymore. Usually that’s because they are busy checking Facebook on their smart phones. Texting also fits into this category–again, you don’t actually have to talk to anyone. I guess if it wasn’t for politicians and Baptist ministers, talking would go out of fashion altogether.

Even though I just made a lot of compelling points about why social media is going to be the downfall of modern society (I didn’t really make any compelling points, but who cares), the real reason I am falling out of love with Facebook is because it is making me hate people again.

I hated people before, you know. Long ago. I was a bitter, hateful youth. Then I sort of mellowed out. Well, a little, anyway. I can usually ignore people who really annoy me. But with Facebook, I can’t ignore them. It’s like I’m drawn to the annoying-ness, then I get some sort of pleasure complaining about it. How sick is that?! No–how sad is that?

So now I’m starting to hate people again, and I’m afraid I’m not alone. So you see, this is yet another way our social media is isolating us from each other. Not only is it making me indifferent, it’s making me want to actively hurt people in the face.

I mean, seriously. Don’t you get that? Don’t you read some of the statuses and just want to die? Or kill someone? You know what I mean–the ones that go on about how wonderful their lives are. “I woke up in my satin sheets this morning in my mansion and went for a walk around our private island, and some sand got in my nose, and when I sneezed, dimes flew out! How wonderful! Then the kids went and built houses for poor people and then we went and all bought complete new wardrobes for the week! We are so blessed!”

Yeah.

Or it’s the opposite–you know, the ones who are always on the verge of death. But still, they are blessed.

And then there are the ones who feel compelled to share every single detail of their personal lives. Take my word for this, folks–no one cares about the color of your BM. Really. And some of the stuff you are sharing shouldn’t be shared. In the old days, if you wanted to find out about people’s dirty laundry, you had to rely on gossiping, or Jerry Springer. Now, just turn on the computer.

I’m starting to think maybe I’m the problem. Maybe someone with my personality defects shouldn’t be exposed to others. Maybe it’s better if I just sit in the house and avoid social interaction of any kind.

Except Facebook, of course.

I can’t give that up.

Little Things

Posted on December 23, 2012 by Janice

I listen to talk radio occasionally, and recently I heard a neat little segment. The name of the bit was called “Random Thankfulness,” and people called in and told about the little things in their lives that they were thankful for.

Now, we hear lots and lots about thankfulness, especially around this time of year. We are all thankful for our families and our friends and our homes and all of the things we are blessed to have.

But what about the little things?

These are the things that might sound a little odd in an expression of thankfulness, but are important just the same. So, in the spirit of the holidays, I thought I would provide you with a few of my favorites.

Waterproof mattress pads. Oh yes. Anyone who ever raised a child should be thankful for these.
My dishwasher: I’ve never had one before, and I am already deeply attached to it. Deeply.
Visine Allergy eye drops. My life would be hell without these. Hell.
Swiffers. This particular product just generally makes me happy. They actually do what they claim to do.
My Kindle. This revolutionized my reading life. Really. I know some people who say they prefer to hold a book in their hand, but frankly, I think these people are full of crap. I can carry my whole library with me. I love it.
Rocking chairs. When I sit down, I want to be sitting in a rocking chair. I love to rock. I rocked my babies, before and after they were born. I rock when I read. I rock when I watch TV. You get it. I like to rock.
A new mattress. This is one thing we splurged on when we moved, and it is awesome.
Bird feeders. I love watching the birds on the feeders outside my kitchen window. Their little lives are so fascinating.
The sound of a little creek in our yard. Just that little trickling sound makes my day every morning when I take the dogs out.
Which leads me to…..my dogs. You always feel funny about saying you are thankful for your dogs, but I am! I love those guys. They love me unconditionally, trust me completely, and they are always happy to see me, even if I only left to go to the bathroom.

It’s a silly list, I know, but fun, and in all seriousness, these things make my life a little better and a little brighter.

So, fill in the comments–what little things are you thankful for?

****To my readers: I am thankful for all of you, too! Thanks for reading and sharing. I hope you can find tons of things in your life to be thankful for. Merry Christmas, happy Holidays, and happy New Year to you all!

The Blame Game

Posted on December 19, 2012 by Janice

You may or may not have noticed, but I tend to wait a little while before talking about things that happen in our society. This isn’t because I’m a procrastinator (I am) or because I don’t like writing about things like this (I don’t), but just because I like to wait awhile. It gives me time to try to think objectively about things, and digest the stories and reports that spawn out of tragedies. Mostly, it lets me write a little more calmly.

The shooting at Sandy Hook in Connecticut happened a little less than a week ago. I won’t rehash the whole thing. You know all about it.

The blame started almost immediately, and it’s still going strong.

Some of the blame is obvious. The guy who went in there and shot all those babies is to blame. That’s an easy one.

But it isn’t all so easy.

Almost as soon as the story broke, the gun debate started. My first reaction to the gun debate was disgust. If you want to know part of what’s wrong with our society, consider the fact that when a news story broke that twenty babies were laying dead in their elementary school from multiple gunshot wounds, the first response of many was to promote their political cause. It wasn’t just the gun nuts or the gun haters–it was both. It was the Christians and the non-Christians. They all sat back and looked down their noses and wagged their heads just like the guys walking past Jesus on the Cross. They gave their respective reasons as to why this happened and how if their respective ideas had been followed all along, this wouldn’t have happened.

They make it sound so easy.

Here’s the thing–it isn’t easy. How I wish that there was some sort of concrete answer as to why this happened, how it could have been prevented, and how it could be prevented from ever happening again. But the answer isn’t in black and white. Here are a few of the things I’ve heard from many sources, and my problems with them.

Ban assault weapons: Well, okay. In all honesty, I’ve never really understood why anyone needs a semi-automatic rifle. Also, I totally see the point about how quickly they can fire and how difficult and dangerous this makes the situation for law enforcement to fight back. But at the same time, if you look at it statistically, how many people own these weapons, and how many are used in mass murders? It’s a microscopic percentage. Is that really the problem?
Ban all guns: This one makes me kind of sad. People like to talk about the second amendment, which gives us the right to bear arms and form a militia to protect ourselves from an oppressive government. Like most good ideas in this culture, we take it, rape it, beat it till it’s bloody, then hang it in the town square for all to see. We stretch the boundaries until the original spirit of the idea is long gone. I feel this way about our right to bear arms. We are never satisfied. Having said that, I am also a gun owner. I have a hidden handgun, and quite frankly, I am not comfortable giving it up. I’m not sure how that fits in to everything I just said, but it’s just the truth.
Give the teachers a gun: This one bugs me. I really can’t look at this one objectively, because I think it’s ridiculous. I know a lot of teachers, and not one of them would be willing to carry a gun in their school. If nothing else, think of the liability! They aren’t cops. Someone mentioned the principal having a gun. Well, fine. But here’s a little dose of reality for you. Real life is not like in the movies, when the citizen shoots the bad guy right between the eyes on the first shot and saves the day. Can you imagine, as an ordinary, non-gun-toting citizen, being in an OK Corral style shootout in a school building?! As a parent, I just don’t know about this. It’s not that I think the teacher would do something bad, but the fact is they are teachers, not cops.
Have a cop or security person at each school: Lots of places do this already. While I think it doesn’t hurt, when a person comes to do the kind of damage this guy in Connecticut did, I’m not sure what would happen. I like to think it would have made a difference, but I don’t know.
Bullet-proof glass: I don’t mind this one so much. He shot his way in because they wouldn’t buzz him in. Bullet-proof glass would have prevented that. But I don’t know much about bullet-proof glass–can it be compromised? Could he have, say, driven his car through the wall to get through? I just don’t know.
Bring back the death penalty/hanging/torture/an eye for an eye, etc.: This one is especially sad. A man goes into a situation with the full intent of ending his rampage by blowing his own brains out–do you really think the death penalty scares him?

I guess my point is just that I don’t know what you can do if someone is determined enough to do something terrible like this. I don’t know how it can be prevented. Even with mental health care revisions, it isn’t fool-proof.

You can argue about God, and how we’ve turned out backs on him, and this is what happens. You can say evil is loose in the world. But here’s a news flash for you–evil has always been loose in the world. As humans, we are set apart from all other living things on Earth by our intellect, and our free will. This gives us the capacity for great goodness.

It also gives us the capacity for great evil.

So, whose fault is it? I would say it’s mine. And yours. And our parents. And our grandparents……..back and back and back forever. So how do we fix it? I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Mainstream Consequences

Posted on December 7, 2012 by Janice

Have a look at this recent story on Nightline. Even if you’ve already seen it, watch it again. Please.

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Since you hopefully just watched that, I won’t waste our time by going over all of it. But I will recap. Concerns are arising over some of the disciplinary measures being taken in public schools when dealing with kids who have various behavioral problems, usually kids on the Autism Spectrum. The word “barbaric” gets used a few times, as you might have noticed.

As I was watching this, I was shocked. And since I try to always be as honest with you as possible, I’ll tell you something else: nothing good could come from a teacher, or anyone else, using those methods on my daughter. If someone shocked her as a punishment, I would have no choice but to do the whole Terminator thing and drive my f****** van right through the front of the school. That’s all. Ditto on tying her to a table.

I try very, very hard to be an open minded person. I know how difficult it can be to deal with behavior problems. I know how impossible it can be to control these kids. Some of them are big kids. They try to hurt others, and they try to hurt themselves. Even Evelyn, limited though she is, can really kick up hell when she wants to. I know sometimes the only way to deal with her is just to not deal with her, if you follow. She has to just sort of let it out, and I know the more I try to intervene, the worse it makes her. You know how, when you are trying not to cry, and someone pats you or talks to you in a soothing voice, it makes you cry even more? Same thing.

Anyway, as I said, I am trying to understand the thinking behind these extreme measures, and I always treat everything reported by the media with great suspicion. I know a story can be twisted in many ways, and I know that we don’t know the back stories to these situations.

But they shocked that kid. They shocked him.

I’ll tell you another one that got me: when the man was holding the little boy, and the boy’s mother was trying to get the man to let the boy go. Ha, ha. The man would have let my child go. Oh yes. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not one of those people who think I can whip everyone’s ass. Far from it. I’m getting older and squishy and I’m getting arthritis in my fingers. If I punched someone it would probably hurt me more than them. But make no mistake–I’m not pushover, either. I would get my child out of the arms of anyone restraining her against our will, or die in the attempt.

So, what is my point? Good question. After my initial emotional response passes, I don’t think those people using those methods are intending to be barbarians. It seems to me like they are uneducated and inexperienced. They lack the knowledge, patience, and understanding required to deal with these kids. Did you see the other school? The Centennial School? The one with all the kids with behavior problems? Did you see how good the teachers were at dealing with the kids, and how caring and informed the administrator was? If you missed it, watch the video again. Pay attention.

Has anyone caught up with me yet?

Want to know how we go to this situation? Want to know how things got this far out of control?

Mainstreaming.

They even mentioned it in the video, though they never addressed it directly. But it’s there. I’ve talked about this before, but I think it bears repeating. Let me make it as clear as I can: this is the kind of shit that happens when you put special needs kids in a “regular” education environment! Regular ed teachers cannot provide the attention needed for a special ed kid and the other fifty kids they have to teach to take tests. It’s not possible, and I don’t care how fabulous the teacher is.

You know what it is? It’s babysitting. That’s all it is. Glorified, really expensive baby sitting. A bunch of politically correct bullshit that makes everyone feel “good” that these kids aren’t being segregated or made to feel different.

Here’s a frickin’ news flash, which I have flashed previously: they ARE different! All of the wishing in the world won’t change it. I can put Evelyn in the regular ed classroom until the end of time, and she still won’t be a regular ed student. What could she possibly get out of a regular ed classroom?

From what I can tell, about 60 volts. Or maybe tied to a table.

I find it amazing that my own state of West Virginia is among the seventeen that have laws in place to protect children from this type of extreme discipline. Maybe there is hope for us after all. Otherwise, there are no federal guidelines. I guess it’s a sort of “anything goes” type situation.

But the bottom line is this: it will only get worse. The increase in behavioral disorders is astronomical. Where do we go? What do we do? I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I don’t pretend to, but I do know one thing. The answers will not be found inside a mainstream classroom.

And remember, if you hear a news story about some parent parking her van in the principle’s office, send me a prayer.

My Tongue Hurts

Posted on November 28, 2012 by Janice

You know, because I bite it a lot.

I’m a very opinionated person. This is not a shocking secret by any means. In fact, many people who know me have made the comment that I just say whatever pops into my mind.

Not true.

If I said everything that popped into my mind, I’d be a lonely gal. No friends, ostracized family–you get the picture.

When I was younger, I had the narcissistic notion that everyone needed to hear my opinion. I don’t know what it is–is it arrogance? I don’t consider myself an arrogant person, but for some reason, it seems to fit. No matter what subject came up, I had to express my opinion. Politics, religion, local issues, family problems, you name it.

Times have changed, and so have I.

Now, let’s not get carried away. I am still a very opinionated person. Like I’ve said before, I have strong opinions about almost everything. Some things I will still climb up on my soapbox for–education, for example. I use this blog to vent a lot of my opinions, so they don’t back up on me and cause some sort of emotion explosion.

But here’s the thing–even though I am entitled to my opinions, just like you are, that doesn’t give me license to dump them on any one, any time. I’m not a profound person. The most profound thought I’m likely to come up with will probably have something to do with laundry. But my son and I were having a conversation the other day, and out of the blue I made the following statement: “People are more concerned about being right than doing right.” My son said, “Wow, deep thought, Mom.”

And it was. It is.

We love to share our opinion. Our whole society is based on the freedom of speech, and I love freedom of speech. But that doesn’t give us the right to trample others. Sometimes, you sit there, and someone is talking about something, and all you can think is, “What an idiot!” Why can’t it stop there? Fine, you don’t agree with them, and you might even think they are totally ignorant for thinking the way they do, but is it worth it to argue with them? What are you going to gain? What is it worth to you just to express your opinion? If you are in front of Congress, fine, but is arguing with your mom or dad or your friends really going to make a difference?

It’s easy to get on a soap box. Trust me, I know. It’s easy to tell people your opinion. It’s not so easy to shut up and put up. If I think education needs reformed, then instead of putting it on this blog, or posting passive/aggressive Facebook rants, I should do something about it. Go to board meetings, write letters, whatever. That’s just one example. I don’t know what it is that is important to you, but why not become an activist instead of a publicist? Try living your opinions–that’s the best to show people what they are. And when you are faced with the idiot that tries to get you to argue?

Gargling with salt water will help that sore tongue.

The (not so) Remorseful Buyer

Posted on November 10, 2012 by Janice

I’ll bet you thought I might do a political post.

Guess again.

Don’t get me wrong. I have strong opinions about very important issues, but I’m not blogging about them. I’m tired of the bullshit drama and sniping back and forth about stuff that none of us can change. Furthermore, I don’t trust any politician, and I’m sure their primary goal is to get votes. I don’t think the answer lies within the government, but within us. I vote my conscience, and my faith, and that’s that. I like to make people think, but mostly I like to make people laugh, and the state of our nation is no laughing matter. That is all.

Anyway, my life has taken a drastic turn lately, as many of you already know, since we have purchased a home and moved (mostly), and I’ve had many occasions to think about buyers remorse. I am a great believer in buyers remorse. Hell, I own a boat, for crying out loud, and nothing triggers buyers remorse like a boat.

For those of you who maybe haven’t experienced the agony of buyer’s remorse, allow me to explain. Buyer’s remorse is that feeling you get when you realize that you have recently spent a LOT of money on something that maybe (probably) you didn’t need. The buying buzz wears off, and reality kicks in. A lot of people get this from home buying, and I was afraid I might.

You see, reality has certainly set in. Lots of the “charming” things (and trust me, those are great, BIG sarcastic air quotes) that we liked when we bought the house have lost their charm. Those original windows that seemed so cool are huge energy suckers. The kitchen is pretty much blah, there is a shocking lack of closets, some of the floors are slanted, and my daughter’s room is approximately the size of a large shoe box. The ceiling leaked a little when we had all the snow last week. My washing machine tears my clothes, so I have to wash them in mesh bags, and I still don’t have a functioning shower for Mindy. The yard is an overgrown nightmare–I’m pretty sure there are lions and baboons living out there. One part of it is a rock bar, the other is swampy and soft. The driveway needs lots of work, as does the sidewalk.

But I love it.

You have no idea the joy I have when I wake up in the morning and know that I am home–really, truly, home. My home. If I want to hop out of bed and parade to the bathroom in my skivvies, I can. (I don’t, incidentally, and I apologize for the image.) I can turn up the television too loud or listen to obnoxious music. I can make a huge mess in the kitchen and then not clean it up for a couple of hours. I can decorate my own house with my own things, hang my own pictures and paint the walls any color I want. If I want to go squat in the yard and…….okay, okay, sorry. I was getting a little carried away there.

Now, before someone says, “Wow, The Grandparents must be really awful!” let me assure you, I could have done all of those things at their house, too. But you have to understand–I never would have, because it wasn’t my house. Nobody ever made me feel that way but me. If The Grandparents were to move to Florida tomorrow and give me that house, I still could not just walk in there and take it over. It isn’t my house.

Can you understand?

So anyway, the stress of home ownership is certainly, well, stressful (sorry, I couldn’t come up with a better adjective) but it can never detract from my happiness. That leaky ceiling is my leaky ceiling. Those lions and baboons are my lions and baboons.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my coffee is kicking in. I need to visit the yard.

The Dead Has Arisen

Posted on October 16, 2012 by Janice

I just bet you thought I forgot about you, didn’t you? I didn’t. I just didn’t have time for you.

In truth, I haven’t had much time for anything.

The move is complete. Well, sort of. We live in our house, which is a good thing, but it looks a little like a refugee camp, which is a bad thing. I’m sort of in house limbo right now, with some of my possessions here with me and some of them at The Grandparent’s house. The disorganization is starting to mess with my mind. I have things here that I didn’t know were here, and I am missing things I thought were here. If you follow.

Anyway, it’s been a great experience, although I did have to get one really bad day out of my system. Long story short, a box being carried by someone other than myself suddenly opened up on the bottom, and all three of my glass measuring cups that I’ve had most of my marriage shattered. But that wasn’t the killer. The killer was my coffee cup from Hawaii, which I have been drinking coffee out of for about ten years. It died a horrific and violent death right on the threshold of the front door. All of my uncertainty and all the pressure just sort of came to a head at that moment, and I went up to my sort of bedroom, sat in the floor, and had a good cry. It was brief but very gusty, kind of like a tornado, and I felt much better afterward.

One thing I’ve discovered about myself is that I don’t much care for change. I don’t know, maybe that’s not the right way of explaining it. I like the end result of change, but the actual process of changing is somewhat upsetting. I have always accused my daughter of being a slave to her routine, but in truth, she can’t hold a candle to me. I must be just about the most anal retentive, control freak neurotic on the face of the earth. Living out of bags and boxes literally drives me crazy.

Luckily, my family is very patient, and things are finally settling into a routine. Life is starting to have a pattern again, which is good. We are all adjusting well and catching on.

And I have stopped sneezing.

At first, I was greatly concerned, because I thought I was allergic to my house. Really. Then I thought I was just allergic to cleaning. But it was the same old thing I’m always allergic to–cats. The previous owner had some cats in here, and I found cat hair everywhere. It was on the ceiling fans for crying out loud! On the walls, in the corners, on the window sills, everywhere. It took me over a week to conquer it all and make the smell of cats be gone. Either that, or I’ve just got used to it. Whatever. As long as I’m not sneezing. Literally, my sides hurt because I sneezed so much. I’m not making that up.

Also, I sort of forgot the pressure of home ownership. It’s like you suddenly see ten thousand things that need to be done. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then……well, you get the idea. For example, I’m fairly certain the windows in this house were installed by cave men a hundred thousand years ago. When we looked at the house, I thought the wooden windows were charming. Now, if you listen closely, you can actually hear the money fluttering out of my wallet and out those windows. The are an energy nightmare. Oh, but how charming.

There are also two hot water heaters, both hooked up and working and all tied together with approximately ten million miles of copper and plastic pipe. They must have hired the plumber that did the work in that crazy Winchester house. You know, the one where the lady keeps on building forever to satisfy the spirits or whatever? Well, her plumber must have come here, and just kept adding pipes until the day he died. Pipes everywhere. Two hot water tanks? I mean, it’s a biggish house, but not that big. We managed a bigger house with more people at The Grandmother’s with only one tank. My spouse just walks down in the basement and looks at those pipes and shakes his head. I said, “What do you need?” His response? “A plumber.” I started to tell him to make sure it wasn’t the Winchester one, but I wasn’t sure he’d know what I was talking about, and I was too tired to explain.

Well, I’m not going to keep you all day after staying away so long. I should let you ease back in. I have all kinds of things I could tell you, but I’ll save them for another day.

It’s good to talk to you again. I promise it won’t be so long until next time.

Unless I start sneezing again.

Two-Wheeled Menace

Posted on August 30, 2012 by Janice

I have a prejudice against motorcycles.

Normally I consider myself an open-minded person, but somehow, I have developed a true, burning dislike for two-wheeled vehicles.

The other day, I was on my way home and was passing another car. A motorcycle came up behind me, and before I could get all the way around the vehicle I was passing, he swung out and passed me on the shoulder of the road. He then took off down the road at some unknown speed. It was sort of like when the Enterprise used to take off at warp speed.

My son summed up a cleaner version of my thoughts: “What a jerk!”

Now, I’m not one to generalize (yeah, right) but it seems as though the motorcycle-riding population does seem to have more than the normal amount of jerks. Don’t start–I know there are some fine, safe-driving motorcycle people out there. They obey traffic laws and are outstanding drivers. I’ve never seen them, but I’m sure they are out there. You know like baby pigeons, or Bigfoot.

Anyway, back to the jerks.

The whole Harley Davidson culture has never interested me much. That’s not really my personality. I mean, I can certainly frown enough to fit in, but leather chaps and fringes just aren’t my thing. Also, the jerk pipes get on my nerves.

Oh, you know what jerk pipes are. Any vehicle can have them, but they are almost ubiquitous on Harleys. These are the really, really loud exhaust pipes that make your windows rattle and your ears bleed. Around here, guys like to put them on their trucks too. They roar past at all hours of the day and night. I don’t understand jerk pipes. What is their purpose? It seems as though they are little more than a plea for attention, sort of an ear-splitting cry of “look at me! Look at me!”

I guess the bottom line is that I am just not cool enough to get it.

Also, if I’m going to be honest, I’m a little afraid of motorcycles.

I trust them the way you might trust your neighbor’s aggressive dog that has bitten a lot of people, but has never actually bitten you. Also, I regard with deep suspicion anything that has to defy all the known laws of physics just to move. This also applies to snakes, airplanes, and Cher.

If a psychologist were to interview me to investigate the deep-rooted cause of my prejudice, I think he could trace it all back to Bristol, Tennessee many years ago. My husband and I were headed to a NASCAR race. The traffic was backed up literally for miles. It was hot and we had been sitting for a long, long time. Then, out of nowhere, a group of motorcycles drove by on the shoulder of the road, passing everyone else and getting ahead of all of the traffic!!!! Cheaters!

Then, to go back even further, when I was just a kid, there used to be a an unmanned toll booth on the entrance ramp of the Interstate. You had to drop a quarter in a little bucket-thing. There was a hose-like thing laying across the road that counted the cars, so if you drove over it and didn’t pay, a little alarm went off. Well, guess what? As we pulled up one day to toss in the quarter, a motorcycle zoomed by on the shoulder of the road (of course) and bypassed the counting hose and thereby the toll booth. Cheater!

Like I said before, I’m sure there are good motorcyclists out there, who ride for fun and pleasure, who drive safely, carefully, and defensively.

On the shoulder of the road.