And Papa Makes Five

Today marks the end of the "make it so Dad can live here" extravaganza. He is O-fficially moved in. (Well, there's a bit more stuff to bring from his other house tomorrow, but he's staying here tonight and his bedroom and living area are set up, so even he considers that he lives here now.)

And now, we begin the joy of getting the house prepped for sale and then, please Jesus, selling it quickly. (Not that we're in a rush, mind you, but selling a house has never been a fun or easy process in our family so I approach it with great gobs of dread. And also strange optimism that maybe this time it won't be worse than ...whatever the most horrible thing you can imagine is.)

In the last week, we have have filled 3 30-yard dumpsters with various and sundry crap from the basement. Donated at least 3, probably 4, minivan (with no middle row seats in) stuffed to the gunnels, and still the basement of the addition is going to be basically full. The long-term project will be to whittle that down to less overwhelming, but at least he fits in the space we built for him, which he obviously would not have if we hadn't done the winnowing.

Stress is the name of the game right now.

So tomorrow is the last bit of movers moving things.

Thursday we meet with the realtor in the morning and the flooring guy in the afternoon.

Friday the cleaners come to do the move out deep clean.

I have a call in with a handyman company that does painting as well as deck repairs (both needed), we need to schedule a power wash of the outside, get new faux shutters for the outside, get the gutters cleaned...all that jazz.

Good times. Good times.

I am, however, glad that at I am not the one moving this time. And honestly, Dad's rolling with it pretty well. So good on him. The boys are elated to have him here, as are the dogs. So all's well that ends.

Sometimes I'm am certain I have lost my mind.

We have our two sleepy pups, both miniature schnauzers, which is in my opinion about the perfect size of dog.

Of course, youngest boy is...exuberant. So occasionally the pups are not as thrilled with him because he has big love for small dogs and they want none of it. So occasionally, hubby and I discuss the idea of a slightly larger dog more specifically for younger boy - possibly even having one trained to be an autism support dog, because he definitely could benefit from such a thing.

But it was always one of those, "Maybe we should consider" conversations. It wasn't something either of us had the cycles to really sit down and evaluate because our lives are insane enough right now. (Too insane, honestly. I'm ready for something to give and hopeful that it won't be my complete nervous system.)

Enter my father-in-law who, for no discernable reason, got himself a standard poodle puppy 14 months ago.

You see where this is going, right?

In a shocking turn of events to no one, he and his new wife are just not equipped to handle the exuberance and exercise needs of a poodle puppy.

And hubby, bless him, suggested that this was perfect for youngest.

I'm not saying he's wrong. I'm not saying that this isn't exactly who and what we need.

I am saying that while we're in the throes of finishing up the addition for my dad to move into and then working to move Dad from his basically 5000 square foot home into 1000 square feet (we have an additional 1000 square feet in the basement for storage but I'd really like to not have alllllll of the crap coming) and juggling a senior in high school who, oh yes, has realized that he really does need his meds because he spiraled into OCD madness for two weeks and so I'm working to get that all back on board and new therapy and who ends up doing all the heavy lifting for these things?

Me.

But hey. Let's throw in a 14 month old enormous dog (because I swear he's larger than standard poodles are supposed to be, because why wouldn't he be?) for me to train, more correctly housebreak, and find and arrange an evaluation for service dog training. Sure. I can handle that.

No worries.

(Narrator: There are plenty of worries. So, so many worries.)

It's fine. 

I'm fine.

Various Sundries

I see the SAVE Act is out there in the news again (or so it seems from the ranting I was assaulted with when, against my better judgement, I opened up Faceplant to try to check a group.) I am pro-voter id - seems like a non-brainer to me. I'm also pro-people having a passport. Which would solve the problem. And our passports are not really any more (or less) expensive than the other countries in the world. (A quick google says there is basically nowhere that you can get a passport for free.) (And honestly I spent very little time on this because I just don't think my opinions on things in politics matter anymore. I live where the elected people of any ilk are all fundamentally on the other side to a huge extreme, so even calling/writing them is pissing in the wind. I do it. But that's more out of obstinacy than thinking it actually matters.)

I recall in one of my books, the heroine commented that she didn't even have a passport and my Kiwi editor remarked in the margin "How very American."

If the majority of the world requires its citizens to have a passport, why is that considered an undue requirement here?

Anyway, moving on.

We're in the throes of college registration details for the eldest and it causes a rather significant, and somewhat painful, clutch just under my heart. How did we get here?

I'm excited for him to spread those wings and fly, but I think it's not untoward that I'm also worried and nervous and just...a little melancholy. I'm gonna miss him. Even though I know he won't miss us - and he shouldn't. Just the times they are a-changin'.

Speaking of changin' - the extension for Dad is basically finished (final inspection done, tweaks thereafter have been made (still to code, just avoiding bureaucracy b/c changing midstream is hard)) and we're meeting with a moving company on Monday for an estimate to get him over here. It's getting real.

Betwixt the two, is it any wonder that the school days nightmares have started up again? No. No it is not.

Yay, stress. Or something.

Anyway, twill all be good in the end and I'm focusing on that rather than on the impending 2 year anniversary of losing my sister. I don't want to be that person who, in a very maudlin fashion, memorializes the death of her loved ones. But the fact is, two seems harder than one (I feel like maybe that was true with Mom, too) and I hate it. 

Grief. She is a b*.

Let it...sleet?

We got a lot of inches of...something Saturday night and all day Sunday. I think it might have started as snow, but by the time I was up around 6:30, it was already pinging as it fell. Our little electric snowblower, that I bought on a whim for $99 back when Woot was a fun website with interesting daily deals rather than yet another entry in the Bezos-sphere, still managed to do a reasonable job of clearing the driveway.

Of course, the poor thing was much more suited to our driveway in suburbia than the tenth of a mile we now have out here in the forest. But I much prefer the living out here, so there's that.

Regardless, we were able to get it clear, ish. Of course, it then continued to sleet or freezing rain or whatever thereafter. So we woke up this morning to an additional inch or so of impenetrable coverage on the driveway. So that's fun.

The boys and I were able to dig us out up at the street (amusingly, it was easier to get rid of the part we weren't able to clear with the blower because we didn't have an extension cord long enough than the part that we cleared yesterday. That part's still got the covering. And will until it thaws, I guess, because we're not sure how to get rid of it without a chisel.) So, should we need to get out, we can.

Every time this happens, I think we need to invest in a better snow removal option than we have. Then I remember this really only happens every five or so years, so it's not as though we're seriously inconvenienced every winter. Dunno. Since the primary clearing seems to always fall on me to assist and organize, and I'm not getting younger, I might push the issue a tad harder.

And of course, they're eyeing another storm for this coming weekend and throwing around words like "blizzard."

Snowpocalypse Watch

Whelp. It looks as alllll the weather prognosticators agree that we'll be seeing 6-10 this weekend, possibly more.

Hubs is still betting on nothing. And, to be fair, he has a point. So often around here they scream that the sky is falling and then, in fact, nothing at all falls out of the sky.

Even so, I did my grocery shopping early this week (they started the doom and gloom on Tuesday, I think, so I went to the store Wednesday. Seems like it was a good plan, since I just saw photos over on Faceplant of the line to get in Costco wrapping around the building.) (I wonder if people will actually find anything on the shelves when they get to the front of the line.)

If we DO get the 6-10 (or more), then everything will be shut down for at least a week. Possibly 2. Especially as, at least right now, I'm seeing more snow predicted for the middle of next week. 

We'll see what we see.

I'd be happy with snow. I'll be less happy if it turns to sleet after the 6-10, which is what they're saying might happen. That's no fun for anyone. Except, I guess, Vanilla Ice, since he'll rake in royalties again for everyone deciding they need to play Ice, Ice, Baby like they're the only people who thought of it.

Happy New Year, etc.

Round about these parts, we jump from Christmas, to New Year's, to a birthday, to undecorating and it's all rather a lot of whirlwind that leaves me breathless. (Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the point is, it's a lot all one after the other.)

This year was particularly whatever word I'm using to describe this time of year, because eldest turned 18 and has set his toe firmly into adulthood.

Or so one imagines.

In reality, not a lot has changed (because one doesn't instantly mature, for all parents might like that) (and honestly, the young man is not immature for his age - in fact, I'd say he's more mature than many of his peers. I'm not disappointed, is the point.) 

I guess that's not entirely correct: he's flexing his muscles some and asking for things like taking off the parental supervision on his phone (which isn't a big deal because we hadn't really been using any of it for the last year or so - he's a good kid. But I did say I was fine with it provided he considered sharing his location with me. I told him I'd be happy to reciprocate. I don't stalk his location like some helicopter moms, but he's not great about texting when he gets places, and sometimes around here ...you just want to be sure he got where he was headed. He was fine with that.)

Now that that's past, we're staring down younger boy's 14th birthday in a few short weeks and...why must they grow up so quickly? (On the flip side, this one could use a little of that overnight maturation.)

The building project for bringing Dad here is nearly finished. We've hooked up most of the sinks and such - the countertop guy will be out on Monday to do a field measurement and once we get the kitchenette finished we should be good to go with the final inspection. I think (touch wood) that we should be able to get Dad in by the end of January. That gives us a solid month to get all the junk out of his other house and get it prepped to be on the market.

Doable.

Probably.

What is it they say? God willing and the creek don't rise.

And that's our new year kickoff in a nutshell. I can't complain (well, I'm me. I totally can. But it's pretty unfounded in the overall scheme.) And I'm cautiously optimistic about the year ahead. (Check back soon for when depression comes back like a thick blanket full of lead. Although the meds are, I think, finally where they need to be. So that's something. I guess we'll see how the 2 year anniversary of my sister's death goes. Because that's coming up fast as well.)

Merry Christmas

Still here, just nothing exciting to report.

The stocking are hung. There are gifts yet to be wrapped. All that.

I believe I've settled on doing filet mignon this year, with mashed potatoes, rolls, and then some kind of veggie that we'll pretend people will eat. Maybe green beans? They'll eat those. Or just a big salad. Sometimes those go over. We shall see. Point being, a stripped down meal and just a quiet day with family.

Which, honestly, the older I get, feels like a better thing anyway.

Still, sending out wishes for you to have a fabulous Christmas with you and yours.