3262 I am overwhelmed.

Monday, May 23, 2011

People who are easily annoyed are more annoying than the people who annoy them.

--------------------------------------------------

I am feeling very beaten down.

I spent much of Saturday on my knees with pruning shears cutting down the thicket of Japanese knotweed taking over the back yard. There was nothing there but grass when the snow melted. Now it's already four feet tall. It's next to impossible to get rid of. The websites say stuff like getting a hypodermic needle and injecting weed killer into the stems - for years! And then maybe it'll die.

Saturday night, I had a lot of blood in my urine again. Apparently any kind of physical activity causes a problem. Sunday morning the first urine was dark brownish, but it quickly went to the usual pale yellow. This morning it was brownish again, and then alternated most of today between pale yellow, and the color of pink iced tea. I'm hoping it's the useless misplaced stent tearing up my bladder, not something more nasty going on.

The urologist has had my contrast x-rays and CT scan since Monday of last week, and hadn't even LOOKED at them as of Friday! I was so angry that over the weekend I researched another urologist. I figured if the current one didn't have something to say by mid-afternoon today, I was going to make an appointment with the only other in-network urologist within 15 miles who has a local hospital affiliation.

Well, I guess he looked at them this morning, because his office called just after lunch and asked if I could come in tomorrow morning. So now I'm a little worried. First there's no rush, then there's a rush?

And, the urinary urgency is getting worse. Like, oh gee, maybe my bladder is irritated. By a useless stent. Which is in the wrong place. Thank you.

In Saturday's mail I got a letter from the IRS. They think I owe more, want their money immediately, and are assessing a penalty.

In today's mail, I got a letter from the state of NY. Apparently The Angel didn't file my business sales tax return for 2010. (I've made no sales and have filed zero-dollar returns for years now.) They want their money immediately and are assessing a penalty.

Yesterday I figured it was about time to force the builder to fix the crappy stuff, like the bedroom windows that won't open. NJ has a new-construction warranty that builders have to honor. It's one year on everything, two years on structural defects, and three years on dangerous stuff. It's supposed to start from the closing date. So I dug the booklet out of the file to find out what the process is. Surprise. The starting date on the warranty is 6/30/10, which means it expires for the non-structural stuff next month! Um...I didn't close on the house until 10/13/10. I'm getting screwed out of four months of the warranty?

Uh uh. Hell no.

I fired off an email to my attorney this morning. He said to write a certified letter to the builder reminding him that he has to change the date, and listing what I want fixed. And copy my attorney on it.

Sigh.

Then I remembered that Hal needs a state inspection by the end of the month. I haven't changed registration on the three vehicles yet because two are here and one is still at the old house, and that makes things very complicated. (Also the titles are still at the old house.) I made an appointment for Friday morning with the nearest BMW dealership in NY, one hour 35 minutes up the road.

I need to pick up copies of my records and films from the White Plains hospital. I need to actually go there, because there are some things I want that I don't know what the technical words for them might be, and back and forth by phone or mail (no email) would be a pain.

And then this evening, just a half hour ago, I discovered that Fred the van has a flat tire. I know how to change a tire, but -- funniest thing -- because of the dropped floor, when a tire goes flat on Fred, you can't get a regular jack under him to lift him. I guess I'll have to call AAA tomorrow afternoon.

There's just too much pecking at me.

On top of all this, the old house is abandoned up there, probably overrun by mice digging nests in all my upholstered antiques and mattresses and closet contents, I'm losing my possible buyer, and I'M SITTING HERE ON A STOOL WITH NO REAL FURNITURE!!!
.

3206 Jousting with big rigs

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

You can keep going long after you think you can't.

-----------------------------------------------

Hmmm. Somebody from Old Bridge is reading. Hello. 'Fess up. Was it the cousin connection?

-------------------------------

I drove north Saturday afternoon. Had dinner with some Mensa folks, and then went on to the old house. Worked Sunday cleaning it out - filled more garbage bags. There was so much recycle paper I didn't want to store it there, so I brought it on south with me. I'll take it to the local recycle center.

I also loaded some stuff to move down here, but not a lot. I think my concentration should be on throwing crap out right now.

I drove back late, got home a bit after 11 pm.

It was a good fast drive. There are few cars on the NYS Thruway or the Garden State Parkway late at night. It's mostly just big trucks.

The truckers and I did have one spot of excitement. It was somewhere just north of Newburgh (around mile marker 71), in the 2-lanes-south section. I was in the left lane coming up on a line of four semis in the right lane going up a slight hill, and was passing the hind-most truck when suddenly the three trucks ahead of him started swerving and whipping back and forth. There was something big and dark in the road ahead.

It was a little to the right of the center line, and the trucks were swerving right and left to miss it. The truck I was passing couldn't swerve left - I was there! I was afraid to slow down, because if he whipped, I'd be right by the tail of his trailer, so I slid further left and hit the gas and almost climbed the bumper of the truck ahead of him, which was now in my lane. The guy I'd been passing swung right, off the road, then back on. He's darn lucky it didn't cause him to jackknife, hitting the shoulder at that speed.

It was a big overstuffed upholstered chair! Windsor, from the look of it. Must have fallen off the back of a truck. It was tipped forward on its top and seat with its legs pointed toward us, like it was offering a jousting challenge.

Everybody slowed down to below the speed limit until we got to the rest area five miles later. Nobody wanted to be the first to find the matching sofa. All the truckers pulled into the rest area. To change their underwear, I guess.
.

3179 Best Laid Plans, blah blah

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Pardoning the bad is injuring the good.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Remember I said we nonprofessionals can be forgiven errors, but professionals must be held to a higher standard? This is from www.fox40.com/news a few days ago, about a herd of goats that got loose on a highway: "After nearly 20 hours of wandering, and wrecking havoc, around 60 nannies and billies are back under control."

Listen my children, and learn. "Havoc" is a state of chaos. It IS a wreck. So it doesn't make any sense to "wreck" havoc. The word the writer was looking for was "wreak". You wreak havoc. The two words are even pronounced differently. Another case of someone having heard and then used an expression without thinking about, let alone understanding, it.

--------------------------------

Tuesday I headed north to the old house with the newly patched up Fred. His pink leak was transmission fluid, seals now fixed. I filled some more garbage bags, and packed up more stuff to bring south. I was very tired by 8 pm, went to bed with some crossword puzzles, and was asleep within minutes.

I had brought some things for Wednesday's breakfast and mid-morning snack, but needed to go out for lunch, so when I went into the village, I stopped in at Piper's office. Piper wasn't there, but his daughter was, and she said he'd gone to the Italian restaurant for takeout for their lunch. She called him, and he said he'd bring back her sandwich, and then he'd go to lunch with me.

Fine. But.

It took him a half hour to return, and then there were "a few things to be done" before we could go to the diner, and my one hour allotted for lunch (including the drive) turned into two and a half. Or more. I wanted to leave to head back south by 5 pm, and didn't get back to the house to load the van until 3.

When I arrived back at the old house after lunch with Piper, The Hairless Hunk followed me up the driveway. I would have liked to talk more with him, but I really needed to load the van and get moving, so I'm afraid I gave him short shrift.

I got back to the new house about 7 pm last night, parked Fred and turned him off, and ... his tail lights stayed on. His lights stay on for a while when you turn him off, so I didn't notice at first, until I went out for a cigarette about an hour later and wondered what the red glow on the driveway behind him was.

I tried everything I could think of - turned headlights on and off, tried the emergency brake on an off, started him and tried turn signals and then turned him off, but the tail lights stayed on.

Ack! Battery! Death of!

I went into the house to get his book (still in the house from when I was looking up his pink fluids), and when I came back out, the lights were off.

I had a slew of things to do today, like take a load of fabric to the storage facility, pick up a 4' stepladder at Home Depot, deposit some checks, grocery shop, pick up a "raincheck" order at the CVS, and so on. Most of it didn't get done because I had to go to the dealership and get Fred's lights fixed. And yup, again they stayed on when I turned him off.

Turns out it was some of his handicap wiring had rubbed some regular wiring, and caused a short in the switch. $208.33 and a few hours later, the switch was replaced.

In the service department waiting room, I was reading a Time magazine, and another woman about my age was reading a book. A man came in, also about our age, sat between us, and made a cell phone call. A very LOUD chatty call. It was impossible to read. Hey, he's our age! He should know better! When he finished that call, and then dialed another, I slapped the magazine on my thigh, and the other woman slammed her book closed and slapped the cover, we glanced at each other, and glared at him. I said to her, very loudly, (I had to be loud to be heard over him), "Well, maybe we could read aloud." It didn't seem to faze him, but maybe, because he talked only a few more minutes before saying, "I'll call you later" and hanging up.

He has to be the most dense man ever, because even though I had gone back to my magazine and was engrossed, he then proceeded to "chat me up." He got one-word responses. He finally took the hint and moved to the sales area.

Too bad. He was actually kind of good looking.

I never did make it to the grocery store or the CVS. Ice cream for dinner!
.

3168 Life is what happens when you're not looking

Saturday, February 19, 2011

The philosophy of the school room in one generation
will be the philosophy of government in the next.
-- Abraham Lincoln --

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Got this one from my sister - Homemade Implants:


--------------------------------

I haven't been here in a few days. Haven't really been keeping up with others' blogs, either. I guess I've been busy.

Thursday evening I drove northwest to have dinner with the Southern Orange Mensa sub-group. It was supposed to be a 1.5 hour drive, but it took two because I followed the GPS, and he took me down tiny roads, through areas with traffic lights every quarter mile, during rush hour, finishing up with a narrow winding road through the mountains, in the dark. It took two harrowing hours, which, given the route and time of day, was pretty good time. I don't think I'll use the GPS for that trip any more. I'll go north on the highways, then ask his opinion just for the cut over to the west.

After leaving there, I drove northeast another 1.25 hours to the old house.

On Friday I filled more bags and boxes to throw out, recycle, sell, and bring back here. It's still pretty overwhelming. I visited Piper and his daughter at their office before heading back here. Piper was pretty low. His favorite sister had gone into the hospital for surgery in early January, and picked up a MRSA infection that rapidly shut down organs, starting with her kidneys. It's been touch and go since then.

He'd gotten the call Thursday afternoon that she had maybe 48 hours, so he and his niece were wait-listed on a flight to Florida early Saturday morning. Holiday weekend. Bad for travel. Piper's elderly mother is in poor health, and the family had not told her that her daughter was so ill, hoping for a miracle to make it unnecessary, so now Piper is worried about what this will do to his mother.

And, as if all that isn't enough, it looks like his housemate may be having a recurrence of breast cancer.

Not a good week for Piper.

We went to the diner for coffee, and ended up eating an early dinner.

--------------------------------

Just before meeting with Piper, as I was putting the last things into the car, The Hunk came barreling up the driveway. (It's funny, but whenever I see him driving up, he looks like a Mountie.) We talked for a while. It might have been longer, but I had to head down to Peter's office.

Anyway, the Suzy the Suzuki is still there, and he suggested that I start her. I haven't started her on the last few visits because she's been pretty much buried in snow. So, we stomped down the snow on the passenger side so we could get the door open, and I crawled across and started her. Good Girl! She started right up!

Then she started blowing smoke into the passenger cabin. Nothing coming out from under the hood, but definite smoke inside. Turned her off, checked under the hood, nothing burning. Gave it up for now. Next trip north we'll have to figure it out. Maybe a mouse nest in the heater? A belt rubbing? Whatever....

--------------------------------

Today I've been sorting and laundering and distributing what I brought back last night. Went out for lunch with Daughter. Trying to catch up with email, news, and blogs. The online Mensa groups have been buzzing all week with the Watson/Jeopardy thing. And having missed the first of this season's Survivor I had to watch it online.

Life goes on. I play catch up.
.

3254 Short trip north

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

We kill people who kill people to show that killing people is wrong.

------------------------------------------

I used to watch Antiques Roadshow a lot. Now I catch it occasionally, accidentally. I think the British version is more interesting. I noticed a telling difference between the "tone" of the American and the British versions: the American appraisers tell the people what they could get for the item if they sold it; the British appraisers tell the people what they'd have to pay to buy a replacement, therefore what they should insure it for.

Actually, that's a cultural difference. It's a subtle difference in the way we define value.

--------------------------------

The only prescription I take is Synthroid, 50 MCG. Under my prescription plan, I have to get them through the mail. I get a three-month prescription with three refills. When I get down to the last 10 pills, I go online and tell MedCo to send the next three-month batch.

Early last month, I went to the website to order more, and discovered there were no more refills. I need a new prescription.

I don't have a doctor here yet.

So I called my old doctor and asked if they could please send me one month's prescription, and that would give me time to find a doctor here.

No go.

She said I hadn't had a physical exam in two years, and I'd have to come in. Period.

I was a little confused, because I remember a LOT of blood drawn last year about this time, lots of visits, but she said yes, but that didn't include a physical. The next appointment I could get was February 7th. That meant no Synthroid for at least three to four weeks. My other choice would be to attempt to find a doctor here who is not only taking new patients, but would accept a new Medicare patient, and then I'd still have to get a physical and wait for the TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) blood level results, blah blah.

So, yesterday I drove the 2.5 hours north for a physical.

My appointment was at 1 PM. I got to the village at 12:25, so I stopped in to see Piper and his daughter. I figured I'd get to the doctor's office at 12:50, since I wouldn't have to fill out any papers or anything.

Surprise. Sometime in the past several months, my doctor's group merged with another group, and they have a new computer system. I had to fill out the 10 pages of "past surgeries, dates, all vitamins and supplements you take, insurance numbers, emergency family members, family medical history" - all that crap detail that I don't carry around in my head and hadn't brought with me.

Hey, folks. All that stuff is in your old database, AND in that paper folder you keep looking in. Couldn't you find some nerd to write a simple program to transfer data from the old to the new database? Couldn't youse guys input from the paper folder when you knew I was coming? At the very least, will you let me look at the paper folder, and just copy the crap onto this new form, instead of wracking my brain trying to remember?

No, no, and no.

I've got strong pulses in my hands and feet, good reflexes, nothing weird about my skin (except that it doesn't fit very well any more), no chest noise, no lumpiness anywhere, etc., got a PAP, and paper to take somewhere (where?) for a bone density scan and a mammogram. Blood was taken for I don't know what besides the TSH level, and they gave me a prescription for another year's Synthroid. I mentioned that my morning urine has been smelling very bad, so they're going to culture it. Pending the blood, urine, PAP, bone density, and mammogram results, I was declared in marvelous condition for such a decrepit old bat.

Then I went to the old house. I had the little BMW, not the van, because freezing rain was predicted for overnight, so I couldn't bring much back, but I picked up a few things I had been missing, like more dishes, my moisturizer which I haven't been able to find around here, measuring cups, some books, etc. I turned the well pump off, just in case. And I set some mouse traps. That may have been a mistake. If I don't get back there soon, everything might smell of dead mouse. Well, that's not an odor I haven't dealt with before.

Then I went back to Piper's office to finish the earlier conversations. They had a meeting at 4:30, so I left at 4:15, and that's when I realized that if I headed south then, I'd be getting to The Oranges at about 5:45 - a very bad time, traffic-wise. So I decided to go to the diner for something to eat.

I hadn't ordered yet when my phone rang. It was The Hairless Hunk. He said he'd seen a little black convertible go by, and figured it had to be me. "Who else but you would drive a beautiful little car like that on this sloppy salty road?" The phone conversation was getting long, and I was uncomfortable talking in the diner, so I invited him to the diner for coffee.

As usual, we talked. And talked. I don't know if he's starved for conversation, or if he's always like that. It's amazing how much time we can talk, and never seem to run out of topics. We were still at the table three and a half hours later. Yeah, I kind of miss him. I don't want anything beyond a mild flirtation, but I really do like talking with him. Plus, he's pretty. Plus it's a boost to my ego to know that he finds me .... interesting. My daughter finds me boring.

It did rain on the drive back south, but it didn't freeze.

-------------------------------

When I was standing at the window in the doctor's office, a woman was talking to the other receptionist, and was annoyed to discover that her 1 o'clock appointment was at the other office, not this office. The two offices are about 5 miles apart. The receptionist said, "Well, if you just go there, you'll be only 5 minutes late. They won't mind." The woman snapped, "Oh, I don't care about their time. It's MY gas!"

I'm sorry, but I couldn't help saying to my receptionist, "I just drove 2 and a half hours for this appointment, and all I want is a refill of my prescription."

I'm unsympathetic.

Mainly because I don't believe their insistence on my coming in was for my health. I suspect they held my prescription hostage for their bottom line.
.

3244 The pitfalls of ownership

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Everyone we meet in life is meant to show us either who we are or who we are not.

---------------------------------------------------------------

I read somewhere that Mark Zuckerberg is living in a "modest house" he is renting somewhere in California. The author of the article expressed great surprise that a) the house, though large and luxurious, is not a mansion on a walled estate, and b) he's renting. Not purchasing.

In my opinion, he's smart.

(The rent, by the way, is $7,000 a month.)

No one needs more house than he needs, and Mark is smart enough to know that. And renting is sometimes preferable to buying, because if something goes wrong, you don't have to fuss over it yourself, and if fixing it is too big a problem, or you decide to go somewhere else, you can walk away.

So if you aren't thinking in terms of investment, and you have better things to do and to think about than fussing over a building, renting might be the most convenient way to go.

Mark Zuckerberg can certainly afford to opt for convenience.

--------------------------------

The last time I was at the old house, I ran in to get some avocados I had been growing. I had to come straight back, so I didn't spend any time there.

I didn't bring the avocados back.

Last time I'd seen them, they were about a foot tall, growing out of the pits half sunk in soil. This time, there was no sign of green. Nothing whatsoever. Not like they'd wilted and fallen over. Gone. And the pits had been eaten, chewed right down to the top of the soil.

Mice.

It was apparent that the mice were running rampant.

That house, being in woods near fields, always had mice in the fall. They move in looking for a warm place for the winter. In the past, they were confined pretty much to the basement with occasional short forays into the kitchen and laundry room.

With no human and no cat to frighten them, they seem to have pretty much taken over the house.

I am now worried. I'm afraid that they might build nests in the upholstered furniture and mattresses. At the rate things are going, and with the snow not cooperating, I'm afraid it will be well into spring before I get that stuff moved.

Next trip up, I'll have to set traps. Sorry poor mice. I do like and admire you, but most of my furniture has gone 100 to 150 years without musty mouse scent, and I'd like to see it last a little longer.

--------------------------------

I don't understand my electric bill from the old house. The bill includes a bar graph showing usage for the previous several billing periods, and from the same period of the previous year, for comparison. The bars are marked as to whether it's from an estimated or actual meter reading.

I'm on a budget plan, so I pay the same amount every month regardless of the usage, so I wasn't expecting the actual bill to be lower, but I was expecting to see a lower KWH usage, and eventually to start running a credit and recalculation of the budget amount.

Since the beginning of November, there has been ONE small light on. The water has not been run, so the well pump has not been running. Although the water heater is on, it has only had to maintain the constant temperature - no hot water going out, no cold coming in. The refrigerator and freezer are on, but the doors have not been opened. The oil furnace is on, but the entrance doors have not been opened, so it should be running less than when people are going in and out. I can't think of anything else that would be using electricity. (No, neighbors are too far away to be running an extension cord, and the exterior outlets are off at the box, anyway.)

And yet, the electric bill says I've used the same monthly amount of electricity as when I was living there, and the same as last year, and claims it's from an actual reading.

Bull poopy!

Next time I visit (if we ever have a week without snow!) I intend to read the meter myself!
.

3233 Life on hold

Monday, January 17, 2011

"I am not in this world to live up to other people's expectations,
nor do I feel that the world must live up to mine."
-- Fritz Perls --

------------------------------------------------

Not much happening. Daughter drove me to the old house yesterday, where we dug the van out of the snow and I drove him south. So now both Fred the van and Hal the convertible are at the new house.

Hal has a mouse, who moved in while he was parked at the old house in November. The first clue was the chewed up roll of paper towels in the trunk, and the chewed hat. The second clue was the motion-detector alarms going off when no one was anywhere near Hal. I thought eventually the mouse would move out, but last week somebody chewed into a bag of peanuts on the front seat, and two nights ago I found a hole chewed in a bag of garbage in the garage. I give up. I'm going to have to evict him before he chews something important.

I bought some traps today, baited one (no mouse can resist peanut butter), and was taking it out to the garage. Just inside the garage, near the door to the house, is a tall plastic kitchen waste bin that I use to put out recycle stuff, and as I walked past it, I saw a motion.

The mouse is in the bin. The sides are too high and slick for him to get out.

He's the cutest little thing - bright eyes, tiny pink paws, short round body, no neck. I wish I had a cage. I'd try to keep him. But since he's caught, I'll give him a little water and walnuts tonight to feed him up a bit, and dump him outside tomorrow. Far from the house, far from Hal!

----------------------------------------

Peeved again. This was written by a professional journalist: "... declined invites from the organization ...."

Sheesh, people! At least be consistent. "... declined invitations from the organization ...." or "... declined invites from the organize ...."

Now is it apparent why I hate "invite" as a noun?
.

3169 Someday I will sleep in style

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

M R mice.
M R not.
S A R! C M ED BD paws?
L I B! M R mice!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I went to the old house Sunday afternoon, with a list of things I wanted to bring back. When I got there I was so overwhelmed by the sheer volume of STUFF that instead of picking out things to move, I grabbed a huge black garbage bag, and filled it with things I don't want to move (and that nobody else would want, either). I cleared out a significant amount of space in the kitchen and entry. I didn't want to return to the new house empty-handed, though, so I just threw loose things in Fred-the-van that would eventually end up here anyway. Mostly clothes. Some kitchen things. Drove back to NJ Monday evening.

I also made an early-morning Monday visit to the tire place to get the flat tire, which is now the spare, fixed. It was a valve stem again. The five tires belonging to Fred all have fewer than 1,500 miles on them, but they sat for the almost three years Fred was off the road, and two of the five have blown their stems in the past two months. I think I can expect three more cracked stems before this is over.

What's interesting is that the two stems that cracked were both on the same side of the vehicle - the side that got sun. I wonder if that's what did it. Maybe the shaded ones won't go bad.

--------------------------------

"My" bed is a 200+ year-old Chinese marriage bed (sort of like this one, but with foo-dogs - I have to wait for The Hunk to help me get it down here and assembled and in the meantime I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor), and the two small bedrooms will get the Jenny Linds. But I don't have a bed for the second largest bedroom. I have always wanted a sleigh bed, and I figure now's my chance. So today, Tuesday, I went shopping.

I looked at some rather expensive ones with the graceful swan-neck curves on the thick heavy head- and footboards, and yeah, they were nice but somehow didn't grab me. Then I found exactly what I want! The head and footboard are a little higher and flat, but the endcaps on the head and foot have the curves. Somehow it felt "righter" to me, more antique looking. And to top it off, it was about 1/3 the cost of the others. It and the mattress set (firm! with live recoil!) will be delivered Friday.

While I was in the furniture store, the cell rang, and it was the garage door installers. They'll be arriving on the 2nd.

Then I went to Bed, Bath, & Beyond, and discovered there's a cover you can put on a mattress that will "firm" it. I absolutely cannot get used to the Tempur-Pedic I've been using since I closed on the house (it may be fine if you sleep on your side or back, but for tummy-sleepers it's the pits) so I got one of them, too.

So, I hope to sleep better tonight, and even better on Friday. Things are coming along.
.

3156 Such a pretty table, but....

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

----------------------------------------

Please, World, learn the difference between "peek" and "peak". They are NOT the same word!

-------------------------------

Monday afternoon I headed north, and Monday night and Tuesday morning I loaded the van with more stuff to bring to the new house.

The first thing loaded Monday evening was the marble table. Other than the houses and vehicles, it's probably the heaviest thing I own. The top is somewhere around 42 inches in diameter, and 1.5 inches thick, and solid marble, colored marble inlay over a solid marble slab. It sits (rather frighteningly loosely) on a ceramic base. I want to use it as a breakfast table.
I suspect the base was once a plant stand, and the table once had wrought iron legs or something, and somewhere along the line they got married, as they say in the antiques game, and in the interests of liability reduction I may have to divorce them, but ... anyway ... back to the story, The Hairless Hunk wrestled it from my basement, around the corner of the house, up the hill, and to the van. Amazing.

So far, I've had three men help me move it. The first move was from the auction house to the Suzuki, where the top leaned on edge in the back seat for several weeks because I couldn't get it out of the car myself. The second move was from the car to the basement, through the basement SGD, when the auction house guy delivered a chest after the next auction, and I asked him to help me get it out of the car. It lived in my basement for a year or so. The third move was from the basement to the minivan Monday evening. The Hairless Hunk was working in his yard when I went past on my way to the old house, and I asked him if he would help me.

The flippin' thing must weigh almost 200 lbs. I can support almost 100 lbs if I can rest it on the top of my thighs, so with another person I can help to move it, and in every case I've asked these guys to help me - and in every case they've insisted on doing it themselves. Testosterone overload, I guess.

So, anyway, we laid it flat on the open center floor of the van, and then I packed everything else on top of it, and drove back to the new house last night. This afternoon Daughter helped me unload the van, but the table top is still out there.

I suggested that maybe when Hercules got home from work, the three of us could bring it into the house, but she said no way. Without having heard my experience with men "helping", she, being smarter than I, said that if we involved Hercules, he'd insist on doing it himself, and she's not too happy with that idea. He's strong and healthy, but he's a marathoner-type athlete, not a weightlifter. He sits at a desk when he's not running up and down stairs. But being idiot male, he'll try anyway.

Yeah, that's the way it seems to work.

I need to find several people, all at once, either all females or a group with a minimum of two males. At the moment, I don't have the faintest idea who or how. I think I'm going to be hauling it around in the van for a while.

Sigh.
.

2575 Photos from the past

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Old Italian saying: If you’re standing with one foot in the past, and one foot in the future, you’re pissing on today.

----------------------------------

Jay's sister sent me a large box of some of the photographs she found when cleaning out Jay's father's house. I went through them last night. A lot are from Jay's childhood. Some are of him and his ex-wife, and many are of him and me.

When I met him, in his middle thirties, he was a big man, 6'3", 240 pounds, with a very small round potbelly. Judging from these photos, he was always tall, and until his thirties, he was skinny. If it weren't for the dates on the back of the photos, I'd be unable to judge his age. There was also a boy scout uniform shirt in the box. I remember him telling me that he had been a cub scout, but was in the boy scouts for only a few years. The shirt fit me. I wear a 40" chest.

Many of the photos including me were a surprise in more ways than one. Half of them, I have no idea where they were taken. I can tell when by the date on the back, but unless they were in a known house, I have no idea where, or what the occasion was.

I had gained weight after we got married in 1994. During Jay's illness, starting in 1999, I lost a lot of weight and gained a lot of muscle. I looked great, and that's an objective opinion. Then after he died at the end of 2001, I gained a lot of weight. By 2005 I was the heaviest I'd ever been. I knew I was heavy then, because I couldn't find clothes to fit. What I didn't know was how I looked back before he got sick. It was about 10 pounds less than 2005's high, and looking at those photos, I can't believe I didn't know how bad I looked, or that I ever got even bigger.

I guess have a distorted body image. When I look in the mirror, I think I look fine, in the face and figure. But when I see photographs I'm shocked. My face is older than I realize, and my body is, um, wider. My weight has fluctuated wildly over the past fifteen years, a 50 pound difference between the highs and the lows, but except for right now, I never really realized when I was heavy.

I think perhaps I tend to see myself as my romantic interest sees me. Jay thought I looked fine back then. The Man, now, would prefer me a bit heavier, I think. Me, I want my spectacular thirties back.

---------------------------

A selection from the box.

Jay's father worked for Kodak, and took a lot of pictures. He viewed the world through a lens. A good portion of the box contents is his kids, frame after frame, pose after pose. He'd set Jay up with a toy - maybe a toy truck - on a side table, and obviously said "play with it", and then took picture after picture. Those kids must have spent some miserable afternoons.

He took a lot of pictures when he visited us, but I'd never seen any of them until this box arrived.

December 1954. Jay would have been 33 months old, and look how tall he is. The older sister would have been about ten years old.
1964. Jay at about 12 years old. The shirt he's wearing, that fits me, was also in the box.August 1984. This was right about the time I first met him.
October 1985. This house under construction. That's Jay, his ex-wife, and his mother on the deck. This is the back wall of the living room. The trees have grown up since, so that view is now available only in the winter when the leaves are gone.
October 1985. Construction, this house, no fireplace mantel yet. That's the dining room around the corner to the left, and I included this photo to show that there's more glass in the dining room. Master bedroom has more.
December 1987. Three years before he left the Ex. Seven years before we married. He's 35 in this shot, and look at all the white starting in his beard already. He and the Ex had been married about four years, and he was unhappy. They had been dating in Texas when he was transferred to NY, so they got married rather quickly. Within months he was sleeping in the guest bedroom, and she had pretty much set up a life separate from him. He had always wanted children. After they were married, she said she didn't want children. She was deliriously happy in the marriage. She was supported, nice house, handsome escort whenever she wanted to go out, major travel twice a year, and she didn't have to do anything in exchange. Before he left the office every day, he'd call her and she'd tell him what takeout to pick up. We, his friends, knew he was not happy, but we didn't know why.
------------------
You'll notice that from here on down, every time you see me, my hair is a different color. It isn't really. I didn't do anything to it. I considered it a dark reddish-brown, like in the 1995 photos, but what color it looks like in photos is rather random. It seems to depend on the lighting, and whether the light shines through it or on it, natural light or flash.
------------------

September 1994. The mini-Schnauzer belonged to Jay's father. That dog hated me. Bit me seriously three times over the next few years, and yet every time his father went to Europe on his annual trip, he insisted on leaving the dog with us. The blond dog, Baby, was left with us when Daughter went to college, and promptly fell madly in love with Jay. The gray Keeshund, Ninja, had a skin problem, so we had to keep him clipped. And here's a "heavy" photo. I look like a walking cracker box.
February 1995.
February 1995.
June 1995. Ninja and me. Jay's father would find a pose he liked, and then insist that everyone do it.
June 1995. Jay, same pose, with father's dog Robin. There are versions of various combinations of animals and people, but none of me with Robin. That dog hated me.
January 1996. Yes, I'm standing.
June 1998. Daughter's cat Scruffy, who also moved in with us when she went to college. Scruffy was a huge mellow Maine 'Coon cat, a Harley biker in a cat suit. I'm sorry his tail isn't in that picture. It was a huge fluffy raccoon tail. And look how light my hair is with the sun shining through it.
Later: When I checked the posting, the song that played was "Where Have All the Flowers Gone". Sniff.
.