Serpent! Serrrr...pent!*

One of the surprising parts of putting in a pool, is the need for said pool to need "watering" for like 28 days while the gunnite cures. There's science behind it, which is actually kind of cool to read about it, but it's a whole "who knew?" situation for me.

Regardless, we've been dutifully watering the pool as recommended by our pool installer.

So, this morning, in my jammies and without my glasses, I shuffled down the deck stairs to the spigot to turn on the water to the sprinkler that sits in the bottom of said pool, and as I reached for the knob, something poked it's head up and then back down behind the wall that separates the space under the deck from our patio.

It's a little knee-height wall.

And...I might have freaked out a little.

But I hurried back upstairs, telling myself, "Maybe it was a rat."

Now, I'll be honest. A rat isn't better. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that. But I did not want it to be a snake.

When hubs came down, I said, "Can you go down and look and see what poked its head up when I turned the water on?"

And he's all, "We get a lot of skinks."

Friends, I can tell the difference between a skink and...well, anything. Skinks are tiny. They are not scary.

So he's gesturing to me through the window and finally, I go out on the deck as he's going down the stairs and, having woken up a bit more I am now wearing my glasses, so I lean over and look down and before I can point the damn black snake is already in the process of crawling over the wall.

So I shriek, "Snake!" Because terror. Even as I'm trying to tell myself that it's a good kind of snake to have. They're good. They're not dangerous. They're not scary. It's not even that big. 

And I run back inside. Where I proceed to not-quite-panic.

Hubs comes back in while I'm trying to not curl up in a ball on the floor saying, "It's okay." over and over and he asks, "Do you want me to move it?"

"No. He's good. He's fine."

And ...yeah. All true. But also? Whyyyyyy?

Why do snakes exist? Surely there are other choices God could have made?

Anyway. It's about time to go turn the water on for the next round of pool watering and...I don't want to.

*spot the quote

(It's from the Disney Alice in Wonderland. No one was going to spot that.)

Back in my day...

We're at the 54 day mark before eldest heads off to college and, as it's also Prime days at Amazon, Big Brother seems to know that they should inundate me with all the ads for college dorm necessities.

Boy, it's a lot.

And also...I'm so confused.

Back in my day (and yeah yeah, I'm old), I packed up my clothes, bedding, my shelf stereo with CD player AND cassette capability, my state of the art desktop computer running Windows 3.1 and I was good to go. Oh, and an answering machine. I really think that's all I took. There might have been a framed photo or two.

Now?

Everyone apparently neeeeeds a mattress topper. And the numbers and varieties that are available are mind numbing. Memory foam. Gel. Cooling. Cooper infused. Set up like a bottom sheet to elastic all the way around. Just a rectangle that sits on top. Down filled. Two inches. Four inches. 

Just...it's baffling.

Also suggested are rolling carts. Skinny drawer collections (some with casters, some without). All manner of over-the-door hanging organizing things. "Safes" that are lockable boxes, basically, that hook to your bed to also be a desk type thing. Fans. (Oh my word, the fans.) And Fan stands that hook to the bed. Charging stations. Rugs. Removable wallpaper.

Honestly, if you can think of something that could possibly go into a college dorm room, I guarantee there are at least sixteen people selling them as "essentials that you'll regret not having."

I've asked eldest which, if any, of these things he needs and/or wants and he just shrugs. Which...maybe that's good? But I suspect what will really happen is we'll get ready to pack the car and he'll realize that he doesn't have anything he actually needs and so we'll be trying to navigate WalMart or Target (or both) when we get down to school. (And I mean, fine. If that's what we gotta do, that's what we gotta do.) Of course, this is the same kid who, when I was reminding him to go in and reserve his move in time and talking about logistics, looked at me completely confused and said, "Wait. Why are you going to be there?"

So there's that.

(*To be fair, hubby's parents put him on a plane and said bon chance. So I know there are families that do that. But...I am not that mom. At least not for freshman year.)

Diving In

The newest adventure here in the Sleepy Demesne is the addition of a swimming pool.

It's been on the list since we moved here but what with one thing and another, we didn't get serious about it until we'd finalized all the plans for Dad's addition. In fact, originally, we'd planned that Dad's place would be done by Christmas and then the pool last spring. 

But the county bureaucracy had other plans. Dad's place took a full year beyond what we'd imagined, necessitating the pool getting bumped. Then the pool hit permit issues (because the county is stupid) and so they only just started on it.

Still, as it stands right now, we have a lovely big hole in the back yard full of rebar and gravel and pipes, awaiting, I believe, an inspection before the next step. (The next step, I believe, is the gunnite.)

What's been fascinating is finding out how long it takes to actually have a pool put in.

Much, much longer than I thought. In my little brain, it was dig a hole, fill with water. (basically)

As it stands right now, end of July/early August is the estimated inaugural swim. Ah well, given that it's our pool, we don't have to close it at Labor Day, so we should still have plenty of swimming this season. Although eldest is a little miffed that he'll get about two weeks with it before he leaves for college.

Speaking of eldest and the pool - we just finalized the interior coating color and tile and coping pavers etc and the boy has IDEAS. Honestly, I think he cares more about it than I do - which is relatively hilarious to me. Because of same, we actually drove out to Sterling yesterday to a showroom so we could put samples next to eachother and get a good idea of what they looked like in person vs. on a computer screen.

But now it's set, so there's that.

And some day soonish(?) I am looking forward to long, long floats in my pool.

Tales from the Mower

One of my little joys in life is mowing the lawn.

I realize this is weird and many view this as a chore, but I find it rather relaxing and enjoyable mostly. (Unless it's been raining for weeks on end and it's more knocking down a jungle than mowing. Or when it's ninety billion degrees and so humid it ought to be raining.)

Here in the demesne, most of what we have is forest (for which I am grateful. I don't think there's a person alive who would enjoy mowing 10 acres.) But we have a reasonably sized front and back yard, plus septic field that needs regular mowing. (And by regular, I mean every few weeks, not the regimented weekly demanded by an HOA. Because we have no HOA, and for that I am also grateful.)

Sometimes, I use our electric walk-behind mower. Sometimes I use the riding mower. It just depends on what I'm in the mood for. (And all the time, hubby says to me, "Why are you mowing? We have teenagers!" and I have to remind him that I enjoy it and I certainly would rather do it myself than try to coerce either of them to do it because they both hate it and it's an exercise in hard core parenting to make it happen. Just not worth it when I'm happy to do it myself.)

T'other day, after Noah finally launched his ark and the rains stopped, I decided it was beyond past time to do a run over the yard and, seeing how high it had gotten, opted for the rider. I was happily driving away, reveling in the sights and smells of fresh-cut grass and letting my mind be soothed by the steady back and forth, back and forth, when I heard a noise that seemed a little off. I stopped the mower and got off to look and...I had cut the Internet cable.

Because of course I did.

Since we moved here, it's always been an exercise in making sure we didn't cut it, because for whatever reason, it was only partially buried (or so I thought) - and it always popped up above ground near a front yard tree. I have deep thoughts about the choices made in running the cable, but we've lived her four years and never had an issue. So I thought I knew what I was about.

Turns out, all the rain and the scrabbling dogs and Murphy, I guess, all conspired to have the cable pop up a little more than usual in a different spot (or the new belt on the riding mower made better suction for the blades than I was used to) and *boom* cut cord.

Fan. Tastic.

It took very little time for the men of the house to boil out of the doors like angry ants to see what happened because they'd lost the Internet - life blood of the technology slaves.

I finished up what I was mowing and came in to call Verizon.

That went about as well as you'd imagine - calling an ISP is always such a joy - and they'd have someone right out...in two days. 

You would have thought I told the boys that we were moving to Walden Pond for the summer.

Still. We survived. And the Verizon guy came out and, looking at the cut wire, muttered "What the f* did they do." Then he turned scarlet and apologized profusely. But I was cool with it, because we've had similar thoughts about the partially buried cable.

Except it turns out it's not partially buried at all. It's completely un-buried. Just strung across the yard begging to be cut. We were all immediately amazed that we'd managed not to cut the thing in the four years we've lived here because it isn't just the tree area where it could have been accomplished. Regardless, he pulled it up, strung a new, temporary line, and we were back in business.

Cut to two weeks later, and on Saturday, they showed up to bury us a new line. This time, whoever they sent actually had a brain and, on consultation, went wide of the tree and its root system so it could be buried the whole way from street-side box to house connection. Imagine that! 

I believe, at this point, it's not actually connected as the temporary cable continues to live atop the lawn - hubby says there's a whole testing process that they'll do at some point this week to ensure that the switch over is seamless.

Since it resulted in a properly buried cable, I'm seeing it as a win. But my men folk are all still a little salty about the whole debacle anyway. Maybe I'll make them mow once or twice just to remind them that it could have been them wreaking havoc instead of me.

But probably not. Because I really do like to mow.

And Just Like That

Eldest is a high school graduate and also in possession of an Associate's degree in Biblical Studies. He has eschewed walking (which would have been down at Liberty U today), although he has promised that he will walk in four years with his two Bachelor's degrees. I'm holding him to that.

We now enter the ticking time-bomb that is the summer between high school and college. I'm tempted to measure the space in hours, but I don't actually think that would be healthy for either of us. As it is, I'm trying to cram as much family fun as he'll allow into it (read: not all that much because he wants to hang with his friends. Totally legit. But annoying. And yet still legit.) Some of which may be season passes to the amusement park, as we can all go together and just say hi as we pass on our way to different rides. I believe some of his friends are also getting passes, so it kills all the birds with the same, not actually all that expensive, stone.

And we begin to transition the younger boy into taking on the chores that have, heretofore, fallen to the elder boy. He's not excited to have their bathroom now become his sole responsibility, but as it's for his sole use, it feels legit to do.

That tempus, it does fugit.

Well, would you look at that?

Seems the VA Supreme Court actually upheld the law.

Raise your hand if you didn't think that was actually going to happen. (Because a lot of the VA SC are there because of Democrat Governors. So I figured they'd be like, "It's fine. What chu talkin' bout Willis?")

Of course, the VA Gerrymanderers are yelling about taking it to SCOTUS, because why should laws apply to democrats, after all? And the idiots on Faceplant are whining about "They took away my vote!" Yeah, the vote you shouldn't have had b/c they didn't follow the law to give it to you? That vote? Plus the fans of "Well Republicans do it in other states."

And you know what? They shouldn't be able to. NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO GERRYMANDER.

Period.

End of sentence.

Now, I suspect everyone has different visions of what gerrymandering actually is, so it's something states need to figure out what their population feels and make some rules (no, the federal government should not do this. The federal government is too big already. They need to just get over themselves.)

While we're at it, can we go back to Senators being elected by the state legislatures? Please?

Anyway. A small win. Possibly a temporary one. But it was a teensy ray of hope.

Paging Dr. Mandering, Dr. Gerry Mandering.

Whelp. It comes as no surprise to my pessimistic little self that the People's Republic of Northern Virginia managed to browbeat the rest of the state into disenfranchising 90% of the state in the name of "fairness."

Yes, folks, that's right, going from a rough split of 6 - 5 to 10 - 1 is obviously more fair.

I guess I should choose a child and make sure they get 90% of everything and the other only 10% and just remind them that that's what fair means now.

Freaking ridiculous.

My uncle (who was staying with us until this morning) asked if he thought it would be appealed. I'm not sure that's a do-able thing since it's a vote not just a law that got passed. I suppose I could google the idea and see, but really, I don't have any faith that it would succeed if it did since prior D presidents have packed the courts with judges who don't seem to understand being unbiased, merit, or any of those "justice-based" ideas.

Besides, this was all in the name of fairness!

And it's temporary!

Because the government is totally in the habit of grabbing power temporarily and then giving it back. Yeah. That'll happen.

My hope, at this point, though it does me personally no good, is that the disenfranchised counties all along the WVa and KY border will figure out a way to go join WVa (my understanding is that for at least some of them this is a possibility, and maybe WVa would take pity on the rest. Of course, that implies that the White Witch* allows it to happen.) At least then they'd actually have a voice and, bonus, could strengthen the voice of a state that seems to be a tad more sane than whatever the hell Virginia is these days. (Insane doesn't feel strong enough.)

Freaking ridiculous.

*Props to Robbo for the nickname.

April Showers Bring...Company?

For the first time in...ever, really, we are getting an influx of visitors this month. I place the blame solely on Dad now living with us. (I kid, I kid. Except kind of not.)

Friends of ours who PCSed to Newport News had a three-weekend back-to-back need to be up in this area, and we are always happy to host them. (So they are not on my Dad's ticket. Though they enjoy him.) The wife thereof ended up staying all of last week as her son (friend of eldest) wanted to be near his girlfriend a little longer and her hubby was TDY all week. So it made sense. And as I adore spending time with her, it was no issue a'tall to have her here.

They toddled home on Saturday afternoon.

This afternoon, my aunt and uncle (Dad's youngest brother and his wife) will arrive for a couple of nights. They've been up in PA where he had his first pulpit. It'll be fun to have them visit, not least of all because they are pretty laid back and I know I won't have to do a ton of "entertaining."

Then, next week, the next youngest of Dad's brothers and his wife will be here for a few nights (two? three? In that range.) That again should be pleasant and relatively laid back. I know they're hoping to meet up with my cousin who lives nearish - and to that I say, good luck! She's been in the area for ...many years now. I think we've managed to get together twice? Maybe three times. Some is that life is busy for both of us. And the rest is probably just that I have never been as close to my cousins as hubby is to his. (I'd say it's because I grew up far away from them, but hubby did as well and somehow they manage to keep a relationship. It's fine, honestly. I enjoy it when I get to see them, but I don't think any of us feel like we're desperately missing out when we don't.)

The guest room here is getting more use in the short years we've lived here than I think it did in the whole of the 20+ years we lived at the other house. It makes me happy. (And perhaps a little tired.)

After April, I think we'll get back to our usual lack of visitors, but it's a fun and funny little season.

Everything is Just a Little Overwhelming

Whelp. As someone who has read through the Bible more than once in her life, I feel like it's currently some very interesting times. Of course, whenever I get too wrapped up in that, I think of my mom telling me (I believe around the time the first Gulf War started and I was a senior in high school) that this happens and will keep happening. She then went on to tell me of the mania about Revelation when Israel was reestablished in the 50s.

It's a good grain of salt.

And I know, ultimately, God's in control whether or not this is the big end or just another series of steps in the gradual slide thereto.

But I can't say there haven't been some prolonged periods of reminding myself of that lately.

It doesn't help that eldest is a senior, and as we creep closer to the end of his school year (he has only 5 weeks left in his final classes) I want to pull him on my lap and pretend he's the three year old who loved to snuggle. (He is neither three (obviously) nor does he like to snuggle any more. In fact, if I can coerce him into allowing me to hug him once a week, I consider it a win.) (I don't coerce. I ask. Sometimes he says yes.) He's headed to what will be prom for him this weekend (a local Christian group that does dances) and just...all the feels. But I am excited about what lies ahead for him. So there's that, too.

Throw in that Dad is now firmly settled here and his old house is empty, buffed and polished, and officially on the market and it's all just a lot of change.

Change is fun? Or something.

But right now, I'm calling that the reason for the dearth of posts. Lots going on. Not a lot of time to ponder and process any of it, let alone blog about it. (Plus, I question if it's interesting to anyone other than me. Which, to be fair, hasn't stopped me in the past. But sometimes I think I should care more about that than I do.)

Saturday Sundries

With apologies to Robbo, because I believe he originated the title.

Today's exciting undertaking is the taxes. Whee. Mostly this involves me sitting in the same room as hubs while he swears and then occasionally giving him a number from one of my various writing income or expense sources. Then I stick around while he does the actual income and occasionally throw chocolate at him.

It's good times.

After we finish that, since it's shaping up to be a lovely day, I think we may start doing some of the landscaping that needs doing after all the construction for Dad's addon. (Right now, we have huge swaths of mud. We would like to have something other than mud there but prefer something that doesn't need mowing. So we bought some wildflower and low-grow ground cover seed and will see what we see.

Beyond that, we need to organize in the basement under the addon to find the things Dad's missing. And I'd like youngest to clean his room, which I think is actually going to need a full reset wherein we drag everything but his bed and dresser OUT of the room, go through it and get rid of probably 90% of it, and then carefully load back in only what he's actually currently interested in. ADHD man. I'm reasonably convinced that the show Hoarders is really only people with severe unmedicated ADHD who also don't have family members to help them before it's an issue.

And this is the level of fun and excitement that's usual around here, which is why the dearth of blogging.

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.

The Unmitigated Gall

Last Friday, as I was crawling into bed, I felt the stirrings of what I presumed would be another painful, but short-lived bout with my gallbladder. I think I reported here in May(ish?) when I had my first ER trip because of the dang thing.

Since then, I'd had an attack here and there - but not so many that it was impacting life overly and I learned what foods to avoid such that I was doing all right, by and large.

Of course, I had a pretty terrible attack whilst driving back from my weekend in South Carolina for a friend's daughter's wedding. Nothing quite more fun than having that occur while driving. And then, the following week another two, shorter, attacks.

But then Friday hit. And nothing worked. The meds that usually kept things at bay, did not. (Probably owing to the fact that I could keep zero things down. Within moments of anything hitting my stomach, the revolt began, and I was rushing for the nearest basin-shaped object to catch its volcanic expulsion.)

I white-knuckled it through the night, finally crawling back into bed around 5 a.m. Saturday exhausted enough to sleep despite the pain. And I tried to gut through the day when I awoke.

A three, I finally gave up and made the hubs take me to the ER.

Sweet, sweet pain relief.

And an ultrasound and some bloodwork and other tests and...oh hey, we're going to admit you for surgery tomorrow (Sunday.)

I'm sorry, what?

Yeah. Good stuff. 

At that point, I'd had enough pain meds that I seriously considered just heading home and calling it good. They did give that option, with the reminder that choosing it meant next time, I'd be starting over.

And there was no hesitation that there'd be a next time. In fact, they were reasonably confident "next time" would be on or before Thanksgiving.

So. I pondered. And they went to check on something. And it lasted long enough that the pain started to work its way back through the good drugs and I realized that the pain wasn't actually gone, it was just hidden. And I said, "Sign me up for gallbladder donation."

Hubby went home when I got to my room (shout out to the hospital for that not taking all night - honestly, I was very pleased with how fast things moved). They kept me happily drugged up and let me sleep (! I didn't know you were allowed to actually sleep more than two hours at a time in the hospital. I think they only woke me once?) And I dozed off and on most of Sunday as I waited for my sweet, sweet surgery.

And it pretty much says it all that the post-op pain is a laugh compared to the pain that sent me in in the first place.

Came home Monday mid-day. Friends showed up to take over Thanksgiving for us. So I have been parked on the couch watching everyone handle everything with aplomb and doing very little for myself. And really, I could get used to it. (No. No I could not. It's driving me mad. But I did NOT take it easy like I should have after my hysterectomy and I have learned my lesson.)

Fast-forwarding to today, I am feeling very well indeed. Down to Tylenol a couple times a day. Still resting quite a lot and listening to my body say when it's time (again, annoying, because the plan was to lay tile this weekend. But yeah, no.) And if I never have pain like the gallbladder attack again? It will be too soon.

It's beginning to look a lot like what now?

I suppose it really is a sign of age, but I can NOT grok the fact that Thanksgiving is next week and thereafter we are on the slippery slide into Christmas and 2026.

Where did 2025 go?

It is entirely possible that some of the year zooming by is brought to you by GriefFog* because that's still very much a thing. And when I sat down to write this year's Christmas letter I had to really think hard to figure out what happened from January until ...August? Because it was just kind of vaguely gone.

I'm sure I missed something monumental in the letter, but I can't as yet figure out what that might be. Hubs will be reading it over, so it's possible he'll clue me in, but let's be real. He doesn't pay attention on a good day. So unless it's truly monumental, it's gone for all time.

I suppose one could argue that means it wasn't all that monumental to begin with.

I'm working to figure out gift-buying. The kids are dang near impossible these days and I'm tempted to just throw a wad of cash at them (well, really, it'd be a visa gift card, because who even knows what cash is anymore) and be done with it. Except eldest would spend it before he'd finished unwrapping it and then start looking around for more, and youngest would lose the card and then wonder why he didn't get any gifts.

So, yeah. That won't work.

I find myself for the first time ever pondering the "something to read, something to wear, something they want and something...I forget what the fourth thing was meant to be." It was, theoretically, a useful rhyme to help you keep it straight, but I think we can all see that I've lost the plot there, as well.

I miss my brain.

Not enough to go see Wicked part 2 tho. (Follow the train of thought - it's not hard.)

Oh, hey, look. The pit of despair after all.

Whelp.

There were elections.

People are...sheep? Stupid? Horrifying? Maybe all of that.

How did Virginia elect a man who thinks killing people who believe differently than him is a good idea? How did we elect a white woman running on a platform of killing babies and crying about misogyny while running against an amazing black woman who personifies the American dream in action? 

I am trying to simply rest in the knowledge that God has this all in His hand. None of it is a surprise and, ultimately, He wins.

But still.

I weep for the future.