malinaldarose: (Default)
Changing medical providers is a pain in the butt. I have spent a good chunk of the last couple of weeks on switching from a place in Rochester to a place in Buffalo(ish), and I still haven't finished the process as I have to get the records transferred and when I called the Rochester place, I had to leave a message instead of actually speaking to someone.

At least I'm not working today, although this is not how I planned to spend the day.

I went to my GYN's office this morning for my annual exam (and as part of this process), and was in and out of there in under an hour. I don't think I've ever been out of there in such a short time, but I guess that's the difference between seeing the doctor and seeing the PA. I miss seeing the doc; we always chat a bit, and while the PA is very nice, she's pretty much all business.

Ah, well.

Next month is going to be busy.... I have to train the new girl (on nursing home cases this time) the first week, then I'm on vacation the second week, then I have to go to Buffalo for my appointment the third week, then the fourth week is that wretched training for three days. I thought about scheduling my mammo appointment for that week, but unless they had evening appointments, it wouldn't work out.

Bother.

The mini-heat wave broke last evening, and it is supposed to be only in the mid-70s today. It was pretty dreary this morning and there was still rain, but in the last twenty minutes or so, the sky has cleared and it's sunny out now. I may have to go out and sit on the patio in the sun. (Let's be honest: I may have to drag my chair onto the patio and take a [short] nap in the sun.)

My parents' stuff is still in my garage. I have contemplated going out there and packing it up for them, but I'm certain that my mother has a system. Though it would serve her right if I had things all every which way since it has now -- if memory serves -- been a month since the second garage sale, and they have made no attempt to come clean things up. I don't use my garage for much, but I do need to have it cleaned up in order to finish cleaning the breezeway out, if only because I need to swap space, and to be able to get at the lumber racks in the back of the garage to stuff the bits and pieces of trim from the house that are currently stacked in a corner of the breezeway. I packed up most of my own stuff already, so it's almost entirely her stuff out there, and there isn't even enough space to collapse the tables that have been cleared off.

Blah.

Chair. Patio. Blessed, blessed sunlight.

Um...What?

Mar. 31st, 2017 05:52 pm
malinaldarose: (Default)
I decided that since this morning was Friday, and since I needed to break a twenty-dollar bill, I'd stop at Dunkin' Donuts this morning and get a muffin for breakfast. So I pulled in and parked -- I never go through the drive-thru because I always want to see what they actually have -- and found that the shop was full of teenagers. I didn't have time to wade through them and I didn't have time to back track and go to either Tim Horton's or the grocery store, so I just went to work. I keep a box of Pop-Tarts in my cubicle for a reason. (Tangent: There's a fine line between done and scorched. If you can smell the rich smell of chocolate fudge, pop the toaster. Otherwise....)

A little later, I'm having an email conversation with my mother, in which I mention that I had to have a make-do breakfast of scorched Pop-Tarts. And she says to me, "Why didn't you call us? We'd've brought you something."

Really? Really?! RLY?!?

Why would she even think that I'd even think to call my mommy to bring me breakfast at work? When, in the history of ever have I asked my parents to bring me anything to my place of employment? Never, that's when, not even when I was briefly living with them after I separated from my first husband. I'm nearly fifty years old ferchrissakes; I think I can manage a morning without breakfast.

But I'm also smart, which is why I have Pop-Tarts (non-perishable nuclear disaster "food") in my cubicle to begin with -- so I don't have to manage a morning without breakfast.

This definitely falls under the category of "I can't even."

In other news...I've completely forgotten what else I was going to write about.
malinaldarose: (Default)
I just found out that LJ is apparently refusing to talk to DW and cross-posting is not happening. On the other hand, the last post I made does appear to have properly cross-posted, so we'll see.

I tried to watch Arrival last night, but I couldn't. I don't know whether it's my copy of the movie, whether it's my Blu-Ray player, or whether it was just the horrible racket that the furnace fan was making, but I could barely hear the thing, even with the volume turned way up. I may try it again this afternoon, as I suspect my mood had something to do with it, too -- I was a little blue, and the movie does not start out well for someone who is already a bit down. Anyway, I ended up watching Emergency! episodes again. Yes. I am rewatching the entire series from beginning to end again. I do that with books sometimes (usually just Guy Gavriel Kay, though) -- finish something and turn right around and re-read it. This is the first time I've done it with a TV series, though. I will skip the movies, though (the seventh season) because they mostly suck, and are actually mostly about other people than Johnny and Roy.

The temperature fell as promised, and there is a tiny bit of snow this morning. It probably won't last, though, as today's high is still supposed to be 35°, and it's supposed to be in the mid-40s tomorrow. Last time I looked out the window, there was a bit of sun, so....

The robins are back. My mother announced it to me the other day in her usual fashion: "The robins are back. I can feel them." (She says this every spring.) Yeah, well, I saw them. My mother has this thing about being semi-psychic and terribly empathic. I can't roll my eyes hard enough when it comes to some of the things she insists on. I do refrain from saying, "No, Mom, you don't feel them. You're just hearing birdsong you haven't heard since October."

Mom and Dad stopped down last Sunday and brought me a length of lovely paisley fabric. Mom couldn't figure out what it was; she thought maybe it was a tablecloth or a long valance because it has one section that has what I'm guessing is a reinforcing strip, which is not a rod pocket, and it's too narrow and too long for a table cloth. I think it might be a sari. Not exactly sure what I'm going to do with it.

I have just come up with a new group noun: Ulcer of things which one refrains from saying to one's parents. Or possibly a Therapy of things which one refrains from saying to one's parents.

Bleah.

There are a brazillion things I should be doing today, but...I haven't any more ambition than I usually do on a Sunday, so I probably won't do them. Except for the laundry. I already have the first load in. I am debating whether or not to toss some potato soup into the crock pot, but...I'm thinking that since it's already nearly midmorning, that's probably not going to happen -- especially as I don't have any onions. Though I'm sure I could use cream of onion soup; I'm sure I have a can of that, at least.
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Yesterday's armed standoff ended around 5:00 p.m.; according to a Buffalo TV station, the police eventually ran out of patience with the guy and went in and got him. The guy who was shot (not a deputy, after all) is apparently going to be all right; he was flown to a Buffalo hospital. I am sad because someone's dog got lost in the whole thing; the dog got across the police line and the owner couldn't go after it.

I am displeased with some of my coworkers, though. One of them was going around bitching loudly about how we weren't on lockdown. Well, for one thing, the guy was contained, and for another, to get to us, he'd've had to run a several blocks and go through a single door. But she actually tried to contact the county administrator (currently on vacation) to demand that he pay more attention to our safety.

It got to the point where I mentioned to Co-Conspirator P that someone ought to duct tape the woman's mouth...which, now that I think on it, should just be done as soon as she clocks in in the morning because she's just obnoxious, period.

My parents dropped by last night because a) I am the keeper of my grandmother's purse strings and Mom has bought her some things lately and wanted a check for reimbursement, and b) to let me know that Easter dinner will be at the banquet center (ugh, gak, their food is awful) around mid-afternoon. Or so she plans, anyway; she hasn't actually made the reservations yet.

And then she made me quite a handsome offer. She hadn't realized, until lately, that I had considered buying my grandmother's house. Her offer was that if I wait until the house comes to her and MyAuntie, then I will only have to pay Auntie's share of the sale price. She will sign the rest over to me. This is...staggering, and unexpected, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. I do like my grandmother's house, and it has many features that I have always wanted (a dishwasher, a fireplace, a proper fence, a nice view, access to the dikes for walkies), but it is also quite a lot smaller than my house, much farther from work and I'd have to fight my way along the busiest streets in town (no mean feat, and it would increase my commute from six minutes to at least twenty -- I know some folks will be saying, "Aw, poor you!", but I don't live in a Big City, and so that is actually a Big Deal), and I said I'd never live inside the city limits again. On the other hand, I could probably afford to continue to pay this mortgage, if necessary, and pay MyAuntie.

I dunno. I will have to think very hard about this. As much as I loathe some parts of this house, it is my home.....
malinaldarose: (Default)
The cortisone shot definitely did not sort things in my foot. I peeled off the tape this morning (to find a lovely rash under it, yay!) and took Jack for a walk and, well, not a great deal of difference was felt by the time I got home, and now, an hour later. Still, I think maybe the custom orthotics are worth looking into.

I was in the kitchen waiting for an English muffin to pop up, and heard, over the sound of the stereo, mewing. A quick check revealed no cats nearby, so I looked out the back door to find one of the black cats plunked on the patio, looking at the breezeway door (or in that general direction, anyway). When I tapped on the glass, s/he look up at me; when I opened the door, s/he fled. Ye gods and little fishhooks, I hope I don't end up with little black kittens under the ramp. My mother suggested dropping mothballs under there; she said it would keep them out. What if there are already kittens under there, though? Would it make the mother move them?

I am annoyed with my mother this morning. I'm usually annoyed with my mother, but there's a certain level of background annoyance, and then there are little spikes, like this morning, when she informed me that she was planning to have a three-day garage sale at my house in mid-May during the citywide garage sale day weekend. "I know you were planning one, and I forgot to ask," she said, clearly expecting me to just say yes to whatever she wants.

Here's the thing: I was planning to have a garage sale on Garage Sale Day, yes. But I was planning to have it for about six hours, from first thing in the morning until about 2:00 in the afternoon. Then I was going to close up shop and go enjoy the rest of the weekend (or possibly do my Saturday chores). I was not planning to have my parents take over my house/lawn/garage for an entire weekend. And even if I said I was going to be away that weekend, or I was busy, my mother would still expect that I would open my house to them.

Here's the other thing: I will say yes, of course. It's the path of least resistance and least confrontation...and fewest guilt trips.

Merlin seems to be full of piss and vinegar this morning, but it's probably mostly because I'm sitting at my desk and he wants my chair.

I went shopping yesterday, sort of by accident. I only intended to go buy a pair of sneakers because they were on sale, but I ran into BFT, and when the two of us go through a store, devastation follows. I ended up with a different pair of shoes (not on sale), and a boatload of shirts and sweaters, some identical to pieces that BFT was also buying, which is amusing. I don't foresee us walking through Paris in identical outfits, though, as the stuff we purchased is easily rumpled and so I won't pack it, even if she does. Since I didn't try stuff on (other than the shoes), a bunch of it is going back, and I ended up ordering the sneakers I wanted from the store website (and, therefore, paying shipping, dammit). And we're still going shopping next weekend for BFT's birthday trip (well, okay, and we're starting to look at shoes and outfits for The Trip).

Right. Time to get on that RW project since it is now too late to back out....
malinaldarose: (Default)
According to the weather forecast, it's supposed to be only 74° with showers today. So I have decided to put my laundry off until tomorrow (80° and partly cloudy). Besides, with the current humidity, the laundry wouldn't dry, anyway. It's humid enough that it feels like it's already in the 80s at 8:30 a.m.

I have already been out to get groceries and have changed the kitty litter (I did that first, this morning, which meant I could relax and have breakfast when I got back from the store). I have to drive out to the vet's office and get more antibiotics for Sheila. (They open in half an hour.) After I get back, I plan to work at gathering garage sale stuff together. That will probably mean collapsing a few more boxes in the garage and seeing if I can gain a little more space in there. There are two loaded tables in there, but that's because after the last sale, my parents, rather than packing things away for me (or just taking things away to auction, which is what they do with their own stuff) dragged the fully-laden tables into the garage and left them there. I must confess that I made no attempt to empty them over the winter, so their presence there now is entirely my fault. But still.

My mother asked me the other night when the neighborhood garage sale was going to be. Since it should have been last month, it's clearly not happening this summer. (She wants to bring stuff down here because people recognize her address and don't buy things at her sales. Of course it couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that she pulls stuff from her shops, but leaves the shop prices on stuff. People don't want to pay shop prices at garage sales.) I have chosen 9 September for a sale. Mom told me that they are going to have a sale the following weekend. I am not volunteering the information on my own sale because I don't want them here taking over my house. And they will.

Anyway. I still hope to reclaim the attic room before the end of the year. Or was it last year that I was hoping to reclaim it? Who can keep track? In the closet in there, there are three or four boxes of D&D stuff being stored for Skeeter who moved to LA. Those boxes have been there for years because it was actually HTWIWM who agreed to store them. I keep looking at that stuff. It's good stuff. It'd make a mint on eBay. It seems clear to me that Skeeter doesn't want or need it -- or he'd have it. Ah, well. It's a tiny amount of space compared to the space that HTWIWM's stuff is still taking up, and when I get around to it, I'll ask Skeeter what he wants me to do with it.

*sigh* I am missing HTWIWM today. Hell, I am missing a lot of people today. I really want to have a Doctor Who viewing party, or attend one, or something. J1 and BFT and I had planned to go to the movie theater screening until we realized that it wasn't tonight. It's Monday and the nearest screenings are in Buffalo. We can't do that on a school night.

Today is my first husband's 65th birthday. I wonder where he ended up. I wonder if he remarried. I wonder if he is now retired and collecting Social Security. I wonder if he ever stopped being angry and bitter and drinking too much. I wonder if he ever decided that it was rude to go to bed without brushing his teeth after drinking port and eating Doritos.
malinaldarose: (Default)
Tomorrow is BFT's birthday, so I am taking today off and we going on one of our semi-annual shopping trips (the other one will be on my birthday in November). We're going to Erie today, which makes me slightly uncomfortable because it's not somewhere I am particularly familiar with. I may buy a map book while we're in Barnes & Noble. (What? I don't have a smart phone, and I know how to read a map.) We probably won't actually go any farther into Erie that B&N, which is across from the mall, though we may go as far down Peach Street (the shopping area near the thruway) as the Pier 1. Loves me some Pier 1.

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to go to the super-bargain matinee showing of CAtWS. Yes, a fifth viewing, even though the new Spider-Man was beginning at roughly the same time. I don't like crowds, so Cap seemed a better choice in that regard than Spidey. I'll catch Spidey next weekend.

When I came out of the theater yesterday afternoon, the horrible peely-whatever on the hood of the van had progressed to about 75% of the surface. Since I usually approach the drivers side from the rear when I leave the house, I hadn't noticed it had gotten that bad. Probably the rain we've had the last few days. There are curls of top coat or whatever lying in my yard. I am not impressed. (Or happy. Because of course I bought it at a dealership an hour away, and I'm certain it's no longer under warranty, even if this were a covered thing.)

Grama is home from the hospital, which really surprised me since when Mom emailed yesterday morning, she was moaning about how Gram was all helpless and not doing well, and EH wouldn't take her back if she couldn't do things for herself, and I was starting to mentally gear up to argue with the local nursing home about how they're not getting her money directly, I will pay the bill myself, thank you very much. And I cannot get my family to stop referring to EH as a nursing home and its residents as "patients." EH is an assisted living facility; there's a huge difference (about $4,000 a month, and, boy, did my aunt's eyes bug out when she found that out). (Trust me, I know the difference after three years in a related field.)

Gram's ER doc was interesting. When he came in the first time after I got there, I had pulled a chair away from the wall and into Gram's line of vision, so she'd know I was there. He bustled in and I asked if I was in his way. "Yes," he said. No quibbling about it. I was surprised, but kind of pleased. He was very efficient, but nice to Gram, and we later found out he'd been a flight medic, because Mom was talking about having seen a helicopter doing funny things on the way in (not the hospital's helicopter), and he was describing how they practice certain maneuvers. I'll find out his name when I get the bill. It was kind of busy there on Saturday afternoon, but was probably busier Saturday evening.

I was less pleased with my mother; I know she's trying to be helpful when she spouts medical jargon, but she sounds pretentious, and I have to wonder how much the docs actually listen. I think if I were a doctor and this batty old woman were telling me about pitting and edema and emesis basins and sputum cultures (rather than swelling, cup-thingies, and spitting therein), I'd be disinclined to accept it. But maybe that's just me.

Bleah. Gotta go find something to wear today that is not totally schlubby, yet also warm and comfortable for driving. According to the weather wiseacres, it's supposed to be 50° in Erie today and raining. Which is, I think, about what the weather was last year on BFT's birthday.
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It amuses me that my mother assumes I accepted her friend request on FB (or thinks that making the request is sufficient). I did not. She also assumes that we have the same friends. (Why on earth would we? We have very little in common.) It's relatively easy to deflect her, though; whenever she asks if I saw such-and-blah, I just shrug and blame FB's newsfeed(s).

She was describing to me yesterday how she has managed to get herself banned for thirty days. She can log in to her account, but she cannot post, nor use the private message function. It all sounded a little hinky to me, and I have to wonder if she managed to get herself hijacked, but whatever. These days, she's pretty insistent that she knows what she's doing, which is a vast improvement for me, in that she no longer calls (or, more accurately, has Dad call) when she can't print. (That was the most memorable of my Adventures In Tech-Sitting My Mother because the printer? Was out of ink and just needed a cartridge change. Even over the phone I could hear Dad turning red in embarrassment.)

Spring has apparently -- finally! -- sprung. Now instead of shoveling my driveway, I need to fret about mowing my lawn. Which means getting the mower looked at. I wonder if I could bat my eyelashes at Helpful Neighbor Across The Street and get him to look at it for me. I should probably just do it myself; I think all it really needs is a new filter and a new sparkplug. Though I'd hate to blow myself up or burn down my house or something over a damned lawnmower.

Speaking of houses, one of my photography class classmates is selling her house, and I covet it. It's gorgeous: Ranch style, with a decently-sized yard with a stockade fence, in a nice neighborhood (not Capital-N-Nice, just nice, like this one), that is still close enough to my office building that as long as I could make the required left-hand turns out of the parking lot in a timely manner, I could still go home for lunch. Three bedrooms; master bedroom with bath; finished basement that is gloriously free of hoarded shit (and in which all of my books would fit with plenty of room for more). All it needs is a tower, but you tend not to get those with ranch-style houses. They're asking $109,000 for it, which is...reasonable, I suppose. But I'm rather stuck here. I was promised that the house would be in saleable condition before he walked away completely, and it is not. Well, I suppose if I wanted to take a huge loss on it, it is, but if I were going to sell, I'd rather have enough left over to make a decent down payment on another. I can't fix it, and I can't sell it. Yay?

I need to give some thought to this week's Idol piece; all I'm coming up with is dinosaurs and spaceships and Doctor Who already did that. Which is probably why I'm thinking of it in the first place, because that episode certainly has a great deal of "Yes, and..." about it. What if the Doctor ended up with Cleopatra aboard the TARDIS? Yes, and? And what if he collected a big game hunter played by that guy that plays Lestrade in Sherlock? Okay, and? And what if he accidentally materialized the TARDIS around Rory's dad? Yes? And? And what if they went to this spaceship that was approaching Earth, but was going to get the bejesus blown out of it because it looked like it was going to crash right into the planet? Great! And? And what if it was really an ark used by the Silurians to rescue Earth's own life forms ahead of an approaching asteroid? Yes? And? And what if there were dinosaurs on the spaceship?!? Great! And, then what? And...what if Rory's dad Brian carries a collapsible trowel? Er...you're new, here, aren't you? Go sit in that corner and keep quiet.

Oh, and those Coke commercials from last summer or whenever it was.

Also?

May. 3rd, 2014 08:18 pm
malinaldarose: (Default)
My mother was apparently under the impression that when my grandmother gave me power of attorney, she only entrusted me with her financial stuff. Mom apparently doesn't quite understand the concept of "power of attorney," or she thought that Gram had limited it, or something. Because she was surprised that I was getting ready to sign the hospital paperwork when she showed up. (She's the healthcare proxy, but Gram gave me "all of the above," so I can sign the hospital paperwork.)

RLY?

Apr. 27th, 2014 04:58 pm
malinaldarose: (Default)
Has my mother got some sort of sixth sense for when I'm writing? I spent most of the day today engaged in other pursuits, but I sat down to write a little while ago, and just as I was getting into the groove, there came a pounding at the back door followed by, "Helloooo, anyone home?"

Really? RLY?

I mean, I wasn't writing War & Peace or anything, but that's three weekends in a row.
malinaldarose: (Default)
There is snow on the ground again. Little more than a dusting, but still. Snow. It's April, now, thank you very much. According to the weather wiseacres, it's supposed to be in the high 30s today. It is very blustery. I won't be going out to take pictures of the pinwheels today; they'd just be mad blue blurs...although snow covering the winter-dead grass would definitely be an improvement.

On the other hand, it's supposed to be almost 60° tomorrow.

It is just after 9:30, but I have already accomplished several of my usual Saturday chores. I do still have to do the dishes and start the laundry. I get less and less comfortable with doing the laundry because the washer and dryer are edging closer and closer to needing to be replaced. If I were smart, I'd just commit fukkitry and at least get a new washer before it breaks down while full of sudsy water. If I were even smarter, I'd manage to get the laundry room painted and the trim fixed at the same time. (HTWIWM took down one piece of crown molding to check for insulation; it leans against the wall behind the washer; and the last time I went to an event out of town (a collegium in the upper portion of the Hael some four years ago), a piece of the trim around the door fell down and splintered. I eventually put it back up, but it looks like hell.) I want to paint the laundry room tomato-red with white trim. It's the only suggestion of my mother's which I feel has merit. It'll look great with the white coat rack and white appliances. I'll have to replace the wire shelving unit with something else, but still....

Yeah, never mind. It's never gonna happen, just like I'm never gonna have a bathroom upstairs again.

Went out to see Captain America last evening with friends (separate post forthcoming). The movie started at 6:15, so I left the house around 5:50. The theater was about two-thirds full by the time we got there, so our regular seats were taken. (BFT gets claustrophobic, so she has to sit on an aisle.) We still ended up with an entire side-row to ourselves. (The middle rows were pretty well filled.) At one point in the movie, the Winter Soldier's mask comes off; a guy in the back yelled out the character's identity in the split second before his face is revealed on screen. While it's not actually a spoiler for anyone who has been paying attention, it was still kind of rude. The movie clips right along, so I was sort of surprised to realize when it ended that it was a) dark out, and b) quarter to nine.

At some point while I was out last evening, my mother called. She did her usual "Hello-o! Hello-oo-o-o! Anyone home?" bit, which sets my teeth on edge so much that I wouldn't want to answer the phone even if I did want to talk to her. She sounded really pissy when she left the rest of her message, though, as if I was standing over the answering machine deliberately not picking up. I think we might have words later about how I do occasionally go out without asking her permission first. You know, what with being an adult and not having actually lived with her for more than twenty years. (She was calling to tell me that there's some GI bug going 'round at Gram's facility, so I might want to put off visiting for a few days.)

I didn't sleep all that well, possibly because I had too much caffeine too late in the day yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night from dreams about Natasha/Black Widow. Obvious where they came from, but my brain was trying to write fanfic while the rest of me was trying to sleep....
malinaldarose: (Default)
Remember how I said I wasn't going to buy the tools to make the screens? I might just as well have, since I'm buying different tools to make the screens with wooden frames. Which makes me think I should just go back to the original plan. I won't, of course, because now I'm actually invested in this method. But, jeez.

Yes. I need to get myself in gear and get out to get what I need before things get busy at The Store. That's why I didn't go out yesterday as soon as I realized that I needed More Stuff -- because I hatehatehate dealing with busy, crowded stores.

My mother sent me email yesterday indicating that she is somewhat bent out of shape that my entire birthday weekend is booked. I guess we won't be doing anything, she wrote. I rather rudely replied that we weren't going to be doing anything anyway.

Had a bit of a shock when I came downstairs this morning and the clock on the VCR proclaimed it to be 4:41. I had forgotten that it automatically resets itself for the end of Daylight Saving Time...which is no longer the last weekend in October. Of course, that means that on the Real End of Daylight Saving Time weekend, two weeks hence, I will have to listen to Merlin caterwauling for his breakfast starting at 4:00 a.m....
malinaldarose: (dobby)
It had been raining since I got up at 6:00 a.m., but the rain stopped while I was in the shower. Still, I think it's going to remain too wet to mow for the rest of the day (since this wasn't just a passing shower, but a full-on downpour), which means that I won't mow now until next weekend. C'est la vie.

Yesterday's attempt at mowing ended up being like a bad comedy. The mower wouldn't start. Spark plug was fine, which indicates air filter. I had hoped to get through the entire season on one air filter, since they're a pain in the ass to change (it's a sponge filter, which means it has to be soaked with oil), but it seems that the mower hates me. Which I knew. So off I went to KMart to get a filter...which they didn't have. The Garden Center has been converted to the Christmas Shoppe already, and there were no mower parts back in automotive, which is where one usually finds them in the off-season. So I stalked out of there in high dudgeon. Next stop: Home Despot...where I found them displayed on an endcap and three feet over my head. After being ignored by four guys in orange HD aprons, I picked up the tiny broom from a display of fireplace tools and hooked the damned thing down myself. I know one of the guys saw me do it, too. By the time I got home from that little adventure, though, it was starting to rain, so I ended up not mowing, anyway.

Figures, right? It rained most of the evening and overnight, as far as I can tell, and the weather map indicates that just about the time it might be getting dry enough to consider mowing, the next band of rain will arrive. Can't really say that I'm heartbroken over that.

Haven't heard from my mother in over a week, so I suppose I'll have to break down and email her. Usually, I just wait her out, but if she hears from Auntie that my surgery has been scheduled, she'll pitch a fit. She's probably already going to pitch a fit about it being right before Thanksgiving, and I'm sure that'll be my fault, since I took the first date they gave me and didn't quibble about it. I'll tell her I have to go to Buffalo four days this week; she can have vapors over the fact that I'll be driving in early morning fog, just begging for a deer to jump in front of the van.

Merlin is very demanding this morning. I suppose I need to go take up station on the couch so he can curl up in my lap. Or possibly my desk chair....
malinaldarose: (Default)
Today is not a pajama day. I'm meeting BFT for brunch (well, lunch for me) at noonish, then after that, I'll have to scurry over to the mall to look for a birthday present for my supervisor. Her birthday was actually ten days ago, but since we're doing the ridiculous one-celebration-a-month thing at work, I had a few extra days -- which is good since I forgot.

At some point, I really need to pick both apples and grapes to take in to work. Maybe this morning, although I do have to bake cookies sometime today. I was going to do it first thing this morning so I could get them in the freezer before going to lunch, but maybe I could do that later. Hm. Weather forecast is saying that it'll be cloudy today, but not rainy, so maybe I'll hold off on the apples until the dew (not frost, not yet) has dried.

Dinner out with Grama was...dinner out with Grama. We went to Ponderosa again and both had the buffet -- which is really a mistake on my part. There wasn't much on there that I wanted, so they really made money on me, and Gram kept complaining that I didn't eat much. (Gram has a thing about people getting enough to eat.) She was urging me to go up and get more when I finished my glop of mac-and-cheese, two meatballs, and roll...so I pulled my salad over and said, "Oh, look! More!"

We went over to KMart to pick up a few things. Gram got overtired, but she was trying to race in her walker, rather than just taking it at a good pace. I could tell she was getting too tired, too, by the way the walker kept getting farther and farther away from her. I finally had to put a hand on it to keep it close to her, and then I made her wait while I went to fetch the car. It is so frustrating for her, because prior to getting hit by that guy in the pickup, she walked her dogs a couple of miles a day, and now she can't walk without support.

Mom and Dad showed up while we were chatting after I got her back to EH, and almost immediately, the two of them started sniping. Mom, of course, is looking at me, trying to get me to agree that Gram is being unreasonable, but really? It was my mother. She was being touchy and argumentative, and of course Gram took offense. They left when I did, which I'm sure Gram was grateful for.

But that wasn't the end of it; Mom called me at 9:00 p.m. to let me know that my elementary school principal had died and that I'd better get his daughter a card. I didn't come right out and say, "So?" but I did have to explain to her that I barely knew his daughter because she is a few years older than me, and even though our backyards actually touch, we were never friends. She and my first boyfriend were good friends because they were the same age, but I never hung with his crowd. "Oh, I thought you were all friends together," she said. Yeah, okay -- you would barely let me be friends with the kids who lived on our street, why would you have let me be friends with the principal's daughter, who didn't live on our street? And you never saw her at our house, so what made you think we were friends?

So, we got past that, but then she had to discuss my sister getting let go at work, and did I think they'd call her back? How the hell should I know? I'm not in charge of hiring. She got the job because I knew they were looking for someone and I suggested her, then prodded her to put in her application. She was in the right place at the right time. That's as much pull as I have. It was half an hour before she hung up. The only reason I even answered to begin with was that I expected it to be Grama.

Right...cookies....

DIY

Sep. 9th, 2013 06:40 pm
malinaldarose: (Default)
I have a new project with which to torment myself, but one which I think I could actually accomplish mostly on my own. I was thinking about the closet in the library yesterday, and how relatively easy it would be to turn it into a nice reading nook...though given that it takes up the entire western end of the room, it wouldn't be so much a nook, really. More of an alcove, I think. There isn't much stored in it that couldn't be moved elsewhere, and there are already built-in shelves across the top and one side. I'd have to get someone to help me remove the doors and the clothing rod, but all of the rest I could do myself, especially since given the size of the space, I wouldn't want to build in a bench, but to add a chair, end table and reading lamp.

My mother, mind, informed me that I should open that wall up altogether so that I can get into that room without having to pass through the kitchen. My mother has a lot of opinions about my house that I intend to completely ignore. Other than the ones she has already acted on, of course.

Speaking of my mother, she is apparently angry with me. Grama said that when she visited a week ago Friday, she was in a seriously bitchy mood, and that she was annoyed with me then for not wanting to take multiple trips to unload furniture at her garage sale. I haven't heard from her since Saturday, so I suppose she actually is angry. Not that I actually care all that much, ungrateful wretch that I am.

Anyway, back to the library. I might also, if I'm taking the time to work in there, paint the panelling. Both rooms of the addition are dreadfully dark, thanks, in part, to the panelling. (Have I ever mentioned how much I loathe panelling? I really, really loathe panelling.) The library is extra dark because it's on the north side of the house and gets direct sunlight only very early in the morning; the eastern window has no curtains (yet), and the northern window is kept covered because it's one of the windows the neighbor's dog likes to bark at.

I might actually take on this project because once finished, I'd then have two (aha! ha!) finished rooms in my house instead of just one (my office). Really all I'd need would be paint, curtains, and a tension rod for the closet doorway. And, yes, the addition is much colder than the rest of the house in the winter (I can already feel a slight temperature differential, and it's still technically summer), but I do have a nice little electric radiator which puts out quite a lot of heat.

I keep thinking about how when I cut my hair, I vowed to myself that I'd have this house finished by the time it grew back out. Well, my hair is now at mid-back, which was where it was when I cut it. It's officially grown out, and the only thing I have accomplished on the house is to get the living room walls painted. Granted, it was a lot of work getting to that stage (especially with the scraping, and the mudding, and the sanding), but the drywall was already up by that point, I believe.
malinaldarose: (Default)
So much I should be doing today, like mowing the lawn or clearing some of the clutter that is still left over from getting ready for the garage sale(s); my dining room table is still covered in bits and pieces. It's not like I use the table a lot, but I do have to look out there fairly often, so it'd be nice not to see the mess.

On the other hand, I should probably be trying to figure out once more where I've gone wrong with my grandmother's checking account. I'm down from an $80-ish mistake to a $12-ish mistake, so that's an improvement. I suppose I could run an extension cord (for my adding machine) and take all the papers out onto the patio to deal with. I don't think I have any solar calculators about the place. Then my neighbors might see that even though I'm not mowing the lawn, I'm still working.

Yes, the lawn is a disaster again. It hasn't been mown in...two weeks? Since the weekend before I went to Michigan, anyway, and I've been home a week. So, yeah. Two weeks. And it looks it. The front isn't so bad, since most of the front lawn is strawberries and ground cover weeds, rather than grass. The back...well, I don't think it's deep enough to hide velociraptors quite yet, but they're tricky buggers, so.... Before I mow, though, I'm going to have to go pick up fallen apples. Normally, I'd just chuck them into the compost, but that is definitely getting deep enough to hide velociraptors, as well as Monty Python bunny rabbits, so I think they're going into a trash bag. When I'm finally ready to pick apples, I'm going to have to take boxes of them into the office to try to get rid of them. (I don't do anything with them, but I feel guilty about just leaving them. You know, wasting food and all.)

Yike. The whistle of the tea kettle startled me; I'd forgotten that I put it on the stove. Remember Teaventures? I'm trying it again. I found a green tea chai yesterday while grocery shopping, and I'm trying that this morning. ('Cause green tea is good for ya -- like the blueberries that I keep buying and not eating.) It smells pretty good in the bag, so here's hoping. (Hm. Smells mostly of cinnamon...because cinnamon is the first ingredient. Then ginger and a few other spices, with cardamom oil being the last ingredient. Looks pretty nasty, especially with milk added. Needs to cool down a bit before I try it, though. Aaaand...tastes like cardboard with a cinnamonny after-bite. I wonder if it would taste better without milk? Well, I can try that later.)

But despite everything I have to do, I really feel like chucking it all and heading for McKinley. The problem with that is that I'd spend money. I can scrape through the week with the gas remaining in the tank now, but going to McKinley and back takes half a tank, so I'd have to fill 'er up. Besides, if I went up there, I'd be tempted to buy furniture at Pier 1 since I wrote a check yesterday to pay off the minimal balance I had on my Pier 1 charge. Pier 1 is a dangerous, dangerous, dangerous place for me. On the other other hand, if they still had that clearance wing back chair I was admiring the last time I was there, all bets would be completely off. On the other other other hand, I do need some replacement cushions for a chair I bought several years ago at a garage sale, and Pier 1 is just the place to get them.

And this is why I have trouble paying off credit cards, because I like pretty things and want to have them. HTWIWM was perfectly happy with dorm room chic, and making do with third-hand free finds, and so I perforce had to be, too. But he's gone, now, and why shouldn't I have a pretty house (at least on the inside) after all these years?

My mother is showing her control-freak tendencies again. Gram's older dog -- the one with the torn ACL that everyone is so gosh-darned scared to have repaired -- needed some more Rimadyl, so Mom was bugging my sister to bug me to write a check so that they could go pick up the prescription. So I wrote a check and handed it to my sister, who passed it on to our father, who drove to the vet's office to get the Rimadyl to pass back to my sister to give to the dog in the house that Jack built. My mother reported the amount of the check to me yesterday via email. I asked why my sister couldn't just go pick up the prescription herself, since she's living with the dogs and taking care of them. "Oh," quoth my mother, "we know the vet's office and the girls there and they know us; it's just easier for us to do it."

Um...How about my sister goes in, says, "Hi, I'm [Gram]'s granddaughter, and I have custody of her dogs at the moment while she's in EH. I need some meds for them. If you have any questions, here's Gram's phone number."

How hard is that? And it would save an awful lot of to-and-fro-ing. But, no. Because if Mom isn't doing it, then she can't keep track of how much medicine the dog is getting (note to self: check on other dog's thyroid meds), and she can't play the martyr card because she has to do so much running about for Gram.

Oy. There are times when I'd just love to run away and go live with my aunt and uncle. The house next door to them is for sale, and sounds like quite a nice place, and it would be in my budget if I sold this place....

And speaking of my aunt and uncle, when I got my paystub the other day and totted up my remaining vacation days, I still have a week and a half. I'm seriously thinking of fitting in another trip to see my aunt and uncle since we didn't get to the beach at all and I'd like to go back to the nature center and not spend all our time in the butterfly house. Since his stroke, my uncle tires easily, so he can't do both butterfly house and nature trails (which is why when Auntie and I were strolling the length of the bluff park uptown (half a mile long), he would stroll along for a bit, then hit a bench for ten minutes or so while we strolled on without him). If I wanted decent beach time, it would have to be soon, though. On the other hand, I've never been there in October, and I'll bet the nature center is pretty then....
malinaldarose: (Default)
Well, the water meter part is replaced. Turns out I could've just taken a late lunch hour because the guy was in and out by 1:30, and that's with showing up late. (The appointment was for 1:00.) So I ran around and did errands, including stopping at Gram's insurance company to talk to them about her car insurance. We cannot change it, they say, unless we take comp and collision off, and that just seems like a Bad Plan, so we're now working at selling the car as quickly as possible. Mom insists that she and Dad will do it, because, you know, I am a Woman Living Alone, and zOMG, everyone who stops will be a weirdo -- as if I didn't have weirdos stopping by every couple of weeks to offer me $200 for the silver van before I gave it to NPR. This is mostly because my mother has extreme control issues, and you know what? I don't even care at this point. Fine. Whatever. Sell the thrice-damned car. Take that responsibility. Whatever. Did I mention whatever? So now Mom wants a check for the newspaper advertisement. "We'll be down for one," she said. "I'll bring one up after work," I said, so that I can at least have my evening to myself without them stopping in and expecting me to entertain them for however long they choose to stay.

Then I stopped to see Gram and she did nothing but bitch about how my father hadn't left her paperwork from the ophthalmologist where she told him to. Well, he didn't because he had to turn it in to the office at EH so that they could chart the upcoming appointments. So Gram was wandering around with her walker, poking into everything to find her damned papers. We finally got the aide to make a copy of them for her, but meanwhile, she's cursing Dad out something fierce and won't accept any explanations for why he didn't do as he was told. (Mom does come by her control issues naturally.)

And, unfortunately, Gram remembered that I told her I would take some time off work this week and take her out. Dammit. So now I have to put in for more time off. I told her Thursday; if I'd been thinking, I'd've told her Friday, and I'd take Friday afternoon and have a three-and-a-half day weekend. (It's easier not to change things, because she'll be obsessing on Thursday.)

But, hey, I slept last night, which is a vast improvement over the night before....
malinaldarose: (Default)
  • The sky was pink when I got up this morning. It got even pinker while I was standing outside with the dog. I thought the sun had risen straight into clouds, as the pink went away and wasn't replaced by gold, but it appears to be sunny out now. Forecast does say "sunny" today. (Actually, the forecast has a picture of a sun, because apparently "sunny" is too hard a word to read.)

  • Last photography class last night. Our homework was to take a couple of photos in to discuss them. I didn't have time to take anything new this weekend (I really didn't!) so I grabbed a couple of my favorites from Italy, from Lake Michigan, and then had whatever else was on the flash drive. Teacher Number Two told me I "have a really good eye for composition" which gave me the warm fuzzies. Eye, yes. Technical skills? Not so much. But that's okay. He also told the class in general that we would shortly start looking at pictures and knowing what we could have done to make them better.

  • Honestly, my Italy photos? I was trying to take good photos as much as vacation snaps.

  • In my evaluation, I suggested that perhaps BOCES should teach some language classes. I'd like a formal opportunity to brush up on my relearn French before the Paris trip in two years. (We were told to suggest anything, not just additional photography classes. Naturally, my mind went blank, and all I could think of was Basket Weaving!)

  • Mother really is oblivious to social cues, at least those from me. She sings her hellos into my answering machine, and when I pick up and say, "What" as rudely as possible, she only says, "Ah, you are home." What she was calling about? To see if I found the paperwork that was shoved in my door and practically fell in my face the other night. You know, I have a client that does that, too. She has to submit paperwork on a monthly basis, and when she brings it in, she gets a freakin' receipt, and yet she still calls every single goddamned month to see if I got the paperwork. You got a receipt! If I didn't get the paperwork, it's my problem, not yours. As far as Mother and the papers she dropped off, I probably do not need to keep, in perpetuity, a receipt for heartworm testing and medications. Just email me the check number and amount and STOP COMING TO MY HOUSE EVERY OTHER DAY.

  • I am a bit disturbed by the other paperwork I found stuck in my door that purports to be from the town water department telling me that they need me to schedule an appointment so someone can come in and replace some parts in my water meter. Seems to me that an official document a) shouldn't be in all-caps, b) should be on letterhead, c) should have fewer spelling errors, and d) should include a telephone number for the actual department, not a cell number. Since there was a water department truck in the neighborhood the same day, I'll call the department (using the number from the phone book) and see if it's a legitimate thing, and then bitch about having to take a day off work for this. While replacing parts every twenty years whether they need it or not might be good maintenance, it's certainly a pain in the ass for residents. (Also, seriously? They expect people to be ready to have a town worker come into their houses at 7:00 a.m.?!?)

  • There was a shire meeting scheduled for last night. I can't tell from various FB posts whether or not any business was actually conducted (bylaws state that five card-holding members must actually be present for business to be conducted), but I couldn't have gone anyway due to class. I still haven't decided whether or not to continue with the shire.
malinaldarose: (bloody weather)
It's a damp, dreary, cold day here, and it's only supposed to get damper, colder, and drearier, with a helping of high winds. I can't decide whether my mother is being silly or not. She keeps detailing all the preparations she's making for the upcoming Bad Weather (Sandy). The thing is, we're all the way across the state from the coast. The area of effect in all the maps does, in fact, cover this area, but according to the latest on the Weather Channel, there's only a 36% chance of overly high winds here. I feel as if she's overreacting, but she says the whole thing reminds her of Hurricane Agnes back in the '70s, the remains of which caused massive flooding around here. (And caused our house to be full of relatives, because somehow all of our local relatives managed to have houses in flood plains.) I dunno. Maybe I'm being too cavalier, but I think that when you're this far inland, you shouldn't worry like that. Yes, we're going to get a lot of rain. Yes, we're probably going to get some wind. But that's probably the limit.

(Remind me I said all of that when the oak tree in the backyard comes crashing down onto the roof of the addition, or the maple lands on my neighbor's shed, okay?)

Sheila is chewing on a catnip toy. I should take it away from her before I'm cleaning up catnip all over the place. Aaaaand, she just went out into the other room and picked up the thing I took away from her. I suppose I should just let her have it; the cats certainly aren't interested in it.

I have been practicing calligraphy this morning, and I think one of the things I'm going to have to do on Friday (road trip for my birthday!) is stop at a craft store and see about some pens. I don't know that I have what I want for this project. Though I'll have to check in the basement office where most of my "arty" stuff has ended up.

Huh. I don't hear any more noise from Merlin. I suppose that means I should go see what he's up to....

So....

Sep. 16th, 2012 11:55 am
malinaldarose: (Default)
I dithered and dithered and dithered some more and finally went to the urgent care. Doc took one look at it and said, "You have shingles." No hesitation. (In fact, we talked longer about being in Italy, after he said that sun can sometimes be a cause and I mentioned the weather while we were there.) He says that it's a classic case.

At least something about me is classic, right?

So I have a pain medication (which, so far, I don't need; if it had been hurting, I'd've seen a doctor sooner) and an antiviral (which I have to take five times a day!), and I have to figure out how to dress for work tomorrow so that I look presentable, but don't irritate the rash, because, as I complained before, it's right under my bra band.

The funny thing, of course, is now that I know it's shingles, it's bothering me more, though that might have as much to do with having to wear something other than my pajamas out to the urgent care and pharmacy.
---
My mother's response to my response to her email was waiting for me when I got back: "We'll stop down and I'll have your dad take a look at it (i. e., the tree)." 'Cause Dad studied landscaping in school forty years ago, and while he might know what needs to be done about the tree, he doesn't have the equipment to do it any more than I have the money. I may have missed them, though, as they were going out for breakfast and I was gone for nearly two hours myself.

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