WINDING DOWN

 How is it possible that October first is at the end of this week ???   Didn't we just arrive at "The Farm" to spend our summer here ?   Where did the past 5 months go ????????

I have had such an amazingly wonderful summer here in the UP.  The weather was perfect, the days were filled with such peace and beauty that I really don't know if I am ready to head south.  I love my family that I left in Florida and Georgia but honestly, this self inflicted isolation up here in with wilds of Michigan is really quite nice.  I haven't had to babysit anyone, (other than The Man),  I haven't had to deal with neighbors or anyone else demanding my time or attention.   

The only "down side" to living up here for several months at a time is I miss having MY doctors so close at hand.  Being the hypochondriac that I am I miss being able to pick up the phone and know that if I need to see someone I can probably get an appointment within days, if not hours.  And all those appointments are no further than ten minutes away.  

But it is now the last week in September, leaves are turning color and starting to fall from the trees.  The temperatures have cooled down to the mid 40's at night and most days don't warm up any higher than the mid 60's.  My bones are starting to ache and my joints are beginning to freeze up and scream for warmer temperatures.  (It is amazing how a persons body reacts to weather changes. I always thought the old folks were crazy when they said they could tell when the weather was getting ready to change but they actually know what they're talking about.)

And so this week is "Pack It Up" week.  The tractor has been put to sleep in the lean-to, the ride-on lawn mower is in the garage, the patio furniture has been put away in the shed, thanks to Tanner and his brother Trevor, and the apples are ready to be picked.  The trunk of the car is 3/4's packed only waiting for the last minute clothes and whatevers that will get thrown in there just before we leave.  

I am hoping to bring some of the 12 Gazillion apples down south with me.  This year the apple trees have exploded and the deer and I are enjoying their bounty. (I was very careful NOT to eat green apples this year !)  I don't want to pick them today and have them sitting around for another 3 days so I'm hoping that Wednesday will be a nice enough day to go out around the yard and pick a couple of dozen to take with us.  Because I want only the BEST apples to take home I have been walking around the yard today picking one apple from each tree to see which ones are the tastiest.  The majority of them will get made into apple sauce but I want some nice ones to munch on during the trip and to give to my friends back home.  The biggest problem in picking the apples is that the deer have eaten all the ones on the lowest branches so I need someone to get up on a ladder to pick the good ones that are high in the trees.  I think one of the neighbor boys is coming over Wednesday afternoon to give me a hand as long as it's not snowing.  

As I walked around the yard today checking on the apples I found myself in tears at the thought of leaving here.  I was taken totally by surprise by this reaction.  I guess that just proves what a wonderful summer it was.  

WHO IS SHE ??????

 Today I had my picture taken for my church directory.  At least I thought I had MY picture taken but when the lady showed me the 3 different shots I had no idea who the woman in the pictures was.  She looked a lot like my mother but my mom's hair was not that white. And my mom surely was not that large or old.  

So who can that person be ???????

Each morning when I get up and look in the mirror I see me.  Some days I look better than others but the me that I see is a much younger version of the woman in the church photo.  I DON'T have all those wrinkles.  I DON'T have a quadruple chin, (DOUBLE chin would be a blessing compared to the saggy, baggy flesh hanging around that strange woman's neck. ) And I am certainly NOT THAT OLD !!!!!

SO . . . who is she ?

I HATE having my picture taken.  I NEVER look good in photographs no matter what I wear or how I smile.  I know so many people who can roll out of bed with no make-up on and no preparation and still look fabulous.   I am NOT one of those folks.   Today I spent a half hour putting on make-up and fixing my hair.  (The make-up takes much much longer than the hair but you would never know it.). I had chosen my wardrobe for the photo, going with the basic black top that BFF Jeanne says you can never go wrong with.  I even put on a small gold necklace and gold earrings. I left the house thinking I was looking pretty good.

And then they showed me the photos they had taken.   Who is that woman in the photo ????

I love this parish here in Gladstone, MI.  I have been going to mass at All Saints church for the past 4 summers when ever I am in town.  Last year when I spent the whole summer up here I really got to feel like I was a member of this wonderful group of people.  This year I made it official and added my name to the parish register.  (I still have my Florida church which I love but Father Jamie and his parish are my favorites.) So a couple of months ago when Father Jamie announced they would be taking pictures of all the parish members for a church directory I felt that I wanted to be part of it.  I signed up knowing I would look horrid but at least with the picture they could now put a face and a name to the signature on the checks. 

Little did I realize the photographer would take pictures of some old lady who I don't know.  It's a puzzle to me how I know in my head just how good I look yet when my picture is taken this God awful ugly old hag shows up.  It must be a trick camera.

Naturally the photographer tries to sell each person a package of photos for you to give to your family as gifts. I can not imagine why my family would ever want a picture of this strange old woman so I refused any and all offers that were made.  I will get one FREE photo that I will probably hang on the refrigerator just to dissuade me from eating that extra piece of cake or dish of ice cream.  

I just hope I don't get too depressed looking at that strange old woman and thinking that some day I may actually start to look like her.  

SMELLS LIKE DOG FOOD

 Growing up in the late 40's and early 50's life was pretty basic and simple.  I was born at the end of WWII and my parents survived The Great Depression.  We didn't have a lot but we lived a great life.  My parents bought a tiny little house in the "country".  The part of Queens that we moved to was on the very edge of the "city line". Two blocks away was the end of New York City and the beginning of Nassau County. (Nassau County was beyond the country, it was practically the wilderness.I think there may even have been sightings of Big Foot in Nassau County back in the 50's.)  My dad owned a car and we even owned a TV set.  We were living like kings !

But food was a different story.  Because we had my 2 grandfathers living with us my mom had to stretch her food budget to accommodate four adults and one child.  She was a master at creating wonderful meals from practically nothing.  Back in those days she would buy chicken wings, ox tails and tongue because they were all cheap cuts of meat that no one else wanted.  (Remember that the next time you are paying a $1.25 for one chicken wing.). She made the best ox tail stew that I absolutely loved.  (I wish I had her recipe although I doubt I could afford to buy ox tails these days. ). My dad would go fishing in the summer so we always had fresh fish to supplement what my mom could buy at the store.  

Every Sunday we would have a "fancy" dinner with some sort of roast or "good" meat and potatoes and vegetables that we had grown in our tiny garden during the summer.  Because meat was so expensive we often had stews, soups and the most horrid meal of all . . .  HASH !!!   

I HATE HASH !!!!  Say the word "hash" and I break out into a cold sweat and run to my room screaming, "I'm NOT hungry!!!!!"   

Hash was one of those things that I could count on my mother making at least once every two weeks.  I would see her take out the old meat grinder that clamped on the edge of the kitchen table and I knew what was coming.  All of the left overs from the previous week would get mashed into the meat grinder and get ground up into a most disgusting mess that my mom would then fry up with some potatoes and present it to us for dinner.  My dad and grand fathers LOVED hash.  I would gag and slide under the table with hopes of escape before I was forced to put any of that nasty mess into my mouth.  To me hash smells and looks like dog food.  You can put gobs of catchup on it, mix it up with eggs and serve it on a silver platter but I still will NOT eat it.  

Enter into my adult life these two men . . .  Husband and The Man.  Guess what their favorite food is ???  YUP!  Both these guys love hash.  (Gag me with a spoon!).  Husband would always get hash and eggs when ever we went out for breakfast.  The Man does the exact same thing.  

When hash is served in a restaurant it ALMOST smells and looks like something eatable but when I buy a can of it for The Man . . .  THAT is a whole other ball game.  Being the good person that I am I DO purchase small cans of the nasty stuff as a special treat for the poor guy but as soon as I open that can and I get a look at the clotted mess of stuff in the can and smell that God awful smell all I can think of is,              "DOG FOOD".  (Along that same line I will not eat "chunk light tuna" because THAT looks and smells like cat food. My BFF Jeanne will back me up on that one. It's solid white Albacore tuna or nothing for us!)

Call me a snob or what ever but I stand firm on these two food items.  I will eat just about anything including octopus, squid, moose and venison but if you hack up any one of those things and grind it up with what ever else goes into the making of hash I will not go anywhere near it. 

The strange thing is I LOVE corned beef, which most canned hash is made from. The Man HATES corned beef but loves hash.  Go figure !

WHY BUY IT ???????

 I have often wondered why people buy certain things.  Like when you are sitting in a parking lot watching some poor fool trying to park their big car or pick up truck and they can't get the damn thing into the parking space.  I usually ask myself why the dope bought such a huge vehicle if they can't drive it. If you know you are a lousy driver get yourself something small that you can handle without looking like a complete idiot when you try to` drive it or park it.  

Likewise,  why do people buy HUGE houses and then complain constantly about how hard it is to keep up with the cleaning and maintenance of it?  Unless you can afford a full time house keeper why do you need such a big house? 

 If you need the big house because you have so much stuff then maybe you should question why you bought so much stuff.  Along those lines I have to question why people rent storage units.  This is a burning question up here this summer because storage buildings are popping up on every road.  This is a "farm" community but for what ever reason the people of the UP seem to need space to store who knows what.  Just this summer there were three (3) new multi unit storage buildings built in a 5 mile radius of where we are.  Why?   What are people storing in these places ?  Maybe I don't want to know.

But I digress from my original question of  "Why buy it?"  This is a direct question I would like to ask The Man each and every day. Why is there SO much stuff here ?   I know we have discussed this before but today when The Man got himself all wound up over my doing a load of laundry I just had to ask myself yet again "WTF ?"  Or "WBI ?"

I average 3 loads of laundry a week.  One day a week I wash sheets and towels.  The other two days I am washing clothes.  I do not think this is an excessive amount of laundry for two people but apparently The Man does not agree.  Thus his comment today,  "This new washer is going to die if  "WE"  keep doing so much wash !"  (I would like to have asked him when was the last time HE did a load of wash but I kept that one to myself.). 

Firstly I would like to point out that the washer and dryer are a small stackable unit.  Neither is full size because . . .  we needed to save space?  Or because . . . that is what he had before.  The room that houses the washer and dryer is a large room that contains a butcher block, a drain sink and a set of metal shelves .  There is so much wasted space in this room but that is a battle I am not willing to fight or even discuss.  Could the room hold a full size washer and dryer?  Of course . . . but WE bought the small stackable unit.  So given that I can only do mid size loads of laundry it stands to reason that I need to do MORE loads.  Also the fact that there are 2 people living in this house and not just one MAN there is double the wash that needs to be done.  Factor in that we had two weeks of house guests and multiple bed sheets and towels to launder the number of loads of wash tripled over the past month. 

Thus the question, "WHY BUY IT" if you are going to complain every time I do the laundry ???   

It is just The Man being a man and I know that but it doesn't keep me from wanting to hit him with the bottle of detergent.  

PERPLEXING PILLS

As part of the aging process we get to experience all sorts of interesting ailments.  If you go to see a doctor about these ailments I can almost guarantee you will be prescribed some sort of medication.  (I do know some Senior Citizens who manage to avoid all medications but those folks are few and far between.)  Most of us old folks have a list of medications as long as the Gettysburg Address.  

This is true of both The Man and myself.  And because we are both going to doctors on a regular basis,(usually two or three times a month), we need to have that list of medications with us at all times. Being the Type "A" personality that I am I have put these lists into my computer where I can up-date them regularly. I carry with me a print out of both his and my medication list so that any time we see a doctor I can just hand them the list and they can make a copy.  So much easier than trying to remember them all.  

My list of medications has five (5) items on it.  I consider that a lot but hey, if they keep me alive and relatively healthy I'll take what ever the doctor tells me.  (Except for Statins for cholesterol medication.  I REFUSE to take that because of all the side effects.)  

The Man's list of medications is considerably longer . . . Because he has heart and lung issues he takes many pills and has many inhalers.  

And here lies the problem.  The Man gets all his medications from the Veterans Administration. (VA) When he starts running low he makes a call and within days pills show up in the mail box.  But because he has VA doctors in both Michigan AND Florida there are pills crossing back and forth in the mail when ever we change location.  Then there are the times when The Man forgets to call when he is running low so he has to make a "panic" phone call to have pills Fed-Ex over night.  With all these pill bottles coming and going he has a difficult time keeping track of his medicine. 

Now, I have mentioned, on occasion, that The Man has problems getting rid of things he no longer needs. Not only does this apply to furniture and stuff but it also goes for his medications.  He may have not fewer than twenty-seven bottles of the same pill stashed throughout the house.  (Well, maybe 3)  Open any cabinet in the kitchen or any drawer in the 2 dressers in the bedroom and you will find bottles of pills. They could be pills that he was prescribed forty-seven years ago or they could be pills that were his wife's. (She died 10 years ago). As far as I can tell there is no rhyme or reason for any given pill to be located where it is.  He just seems to stuff the pill bottles in the nearest open space and then panics when he can't find them.  I have tried to get him to organize the pills but that is a loosing battle. The Man insists that he knows EXACTLY what pill is where.  I have my doubts.

Anyway . . .  today we sat at the kitchen table because it is Tuesday and Tuesday for The Man is pill day.  I DID get him to start using one of those pill organizers that have a compartment for each day of the week.  Once a week he sits down and sets up his daily pill intake for the coming week. This way he only has to search for the pill bottles once a week rather than daily.  As he started his filling of the holder he decided to count pills to make sure he would have enough of all of them until we got back to Florida. All was going well until he realized he had THREE bottles of the same medication and each bottle contained a different dosage pill. One was for 40 MG pills, one was for 20 MG pills and one was for 10 MG pills. This totally threw the poor guy into a panic. "Which bottle has he been taking pills from?"  "What dose should he be taking each day?"  It was a major crisis !!!

Thankfully we had his medication list stating that he should be taking 20 MG each day. BUT . . . he had cut some of the pills from each bottle in half.  Why ? Because they are large pills and hard to swallow.  Just to make sure we had this dosage right I got out THE BOOK which I take to all his appointments so I can take notes.  I learned early on that twenty minutes after seeing a doctor The Man will not remember a single thing he was told. This way we have it in writing as proof that I am not making up anything.  Upon checking THE BOOK I found where it said, (I had highlighted this),   "take 20 MG DAILY AT BEDTIME!!!"   You would think that would be the end of it but NO . . .   The Man then decided he could combine all the pills.  NOOOOOOO !!!!!!!!   I "gently" explained that because they were different amounts he had to keep them all separate.  I took a black magic marker and wrote across the front of each bottle exactly how many pills to take each day. Then to be sure he didn't "F" it up I put the two bottles that were 40 and 10 MG doses away in a bag in a drawer in the dresser. I went so far as to write on the bag, "DO NOT TAKE !"  

Would it have been easier to throw out the 2 bottles . . . of course . . .  BUT . . .   Well you know we can't throw anything away.  

When The Man kicks the bucket who ever moves into this house better have it zoned for "business" because there will be enough pills here to open a pharmacy.

Move over CVS and Walgreens !!

" LEFT BRAIN"

Have you ever heard of Jeanne Robertson ?   She is a motivational speaker and humorist.   She is a VERY funny lady . . .  funny as in "HA HA", not funny as in " peculiar".  I love watching her on Youtube, you really must check her out if you don't know who she is. 

Ms Robertson is married. She refers to her husband as, "Left Brain".  No need on my part to ask why she does this. I personally think she is being very kind when she calls her husband by this name because you all know I think the male species have NO brains. Ms Robertson at least gives her man credit for having a brain.  I can identify with this very funny lady on so many levels. I mention all this to set the foundation for today's exchange with The Man.

My latest encounter with my dear, sweet but often confused man occurred yesterday as we were driving our biweekly trip to pulmonary therapy in Manistique.  When you make a round trip twice a week for five months each year for five years you can pretty much memorize each and every landmark. For instance I know that once we drive through Rapid river we don't pass another town until we get to Manistique.  Thankfully there are two rest areas between these two little towns so if we need a potty stop we are literally, "good to go".  

"Markers" along the way to let us know where we are in the ride include the storage units, the falling down barn, the "nesting pole" with or without what we think are falcons, the old winery that is now being converted into a mini brewery, the "doggy resort", (which is an old motel converted into a kennel), several small motels and the "junk pile". (There is a billboard a few hundred feet before the "junk pile" that advertises another "antique" sale place in Manistique called Christophers so we have named this junk spot the same name. I have no idea if it has a name of it's own because there are no signs anywhere so for us it is" Christophers".)  

This road that we drive twice a week runs along the northern shore of Lake Michigan so it is a main thoroughfare for getting from one side of the lake to the other.  In most places it is only 2 lanes but there  are occasionally areas that widen out to 4 lanes to allow the trucks and tourists who are in a hurry to pass the slower moving locals. It's a very pretty drive that really doesn't get boring because there are always some small changes to the scenery each time we pass.  Sometimes these changes are a subtle as a deer standing in a field or as bothersome as road construction. Which ever it is it keeps the ride interesting. 

About ten miles before we arrive at Manistique and shortly after the turn off for "Big Springs" there is a very old, what used to be, motel.  I use the term "motel" very loosely because it looks more like the movie set for the Bates Motel, aka a dump.  It's a one story building with about eight units that have seen MUCH better days.  The parking lot is all torn up and the building itself looks as if it may collapse any day if it doesn't burn down first.  There are three or four OLD and rusted pick-up trucks and cars scattered in front of the building which makes us think that maybe there are some less than reputable characters inhabiting the building but we have yet to EVER see a live human being any where on the property.  There are two signs, one at either end of the parking lot that state, "NO TURN AROUND".  I personally would drive the extra twenty miles to find a better/safer spot to turn around in but I guess it must be a problem for the inhabitants of the motel.

Adjacent to this motel there is a small run down little house which may or may not have been the residence for the original motel owner. The parking lots are connected and up until this past year there has been a HUGE amount of "junk" (aka "antiques"?) scattered across about thirty feet in front of the little house and overflowing into the "motel" parking lot.  It appears that someone has taken it upon themselves to organize and contain the mess in order to turn the "junk" into a business.  (Think Flea Market that has been sitting out in the weather for several years and actually has FLEAS. It looks as if someone went to the dump, collected trash and set it out in the parking lot for sale. "One mans garbage is another mans treasure" ?) This is what we call "Christophers". 

Anyway . . .  each time we pass this mess we laugh and make comments about the crap that is "For Sale". I imagine you could pretty much find anything here if you wanted to take the time to search. The inventory runs the gamut from kitchen appliances to bicycles to baby seats to clothes.  (Ewwwwwww!)   One of our jokes is about who would EVER stop there to look at this stuff. We have only seen people "shopping" there once or twice so I don't think it is a booming business.

And now to the point of this long story . . .   Yesterday as we drove past Christophers The Man said, " I wonder where all that stuff comes from." I asked what he meant so he went on to ponder further.  The Man couldn't imagine where this "crap", (my word not his) came from. "Who keeps all that stuff around? Where does the owner of "Christophers" get all that 'JUNK' ?" (HIS word not mine.). As I sat there wondering if he was actually being serious in not knowing where "crap" comes from I realized he was indeed puzzled. The Man who has three garages, a cellar and an attic FILLED with stuff couldn't understand where "Christopher" found his treasures to sell. There was ZERO realization that he himself was a major potential supplier to the Christopher's of the world. 

As I sat there in the car next to The Man I tried to think of a nice way of telling him that he had as much, if not more, inventory than Christopher.  I realized there was no point in even trying to approach that topic.  The Man would not and could not ever imagine in his "Left Brain" that he was the U.P "Antique" dealer equivalent of a Mexican Cartel .  

THE FIFTH SEASON

 The big issue these days about Climate Change seems quite silly to me.  I agree our planet needs some nurturing but if you go back a couple of hundred years you will see that the climate was just about a wacky back in the 1400's as it is today.  

Basically it is cold in the winter and hot in the summer. Leaves fall off the trees in Autumn and plants pop up out of the ground in the Spring.   All the other stuff in between is just hit or miss depending on the whim of the God's and good old Mother Nature. One year you can have thirty feet of snow in the winter and the next year there is none.  It's just the way the world works. It is pretty standard that there are four seasons each year and each season has its own unique events that occur.  

UNLESS YOU LIVE IN THE U.P. 

Up here in God's country we have FIVE seasons.  I came to this realization today as I drove into town. 

Our first season is Autumn which usually arrives around October first and lasts until October second.  Some years it may last an entire week but that doesn't happen often.          

 The next season to arrive is Winter.  This is the primary season of the U.P. because it lasts the longest. Winter begins somewhere around the second week in October and lasts until the first week in June.  I kid you not !!!  There may be tons of snow or there may be only a few feet but what ever the snow accumulation is I can guarantee you it is COLD !!!!!!!  When folks up here tell you it was a "MILD" winter that means that the temperatures only dipped slightly below zero.  A "COLD" winter means temperatures went down well below minus 20.

 Moving along after the   LLLLL  OOOOOOOO NNNNNNNNNN GGGGGGGGGGGG winter months and months we finally arrive at Spring.  Spring may show up around the middle of June and last a full two weeks until the beginning of July. It is often hard to distinguish between winter and spring because the temperatures only warm up slightly.  The one sure sign that it is actually spring and not winter is the fact that when you step out of your house you are probably standing in mud up to your hips.  When the winter temperatures melt into spring the ground also melts and the resulting quagmire of wet ground is your sign that Spring has arrived. 

 After the two or three weeks of Spring it is finally Summer !!!!  You will know when summer arrives by the amount of RV's and tourists driving through town.  The temperatures may still be in the 60's but once the tourists arrive it is officially summer.  That and the fact that the Dairy Flo ice cream store on Main Street in town finally opens up for its very short season.   If you are lucky you may actually get to enjoy warm temperatures for a full SIX weeks. That is not guaranteed but usually summer makes it to at least the middle of August.  

Which now brings us to our fifth and last season of the year . . .  FLANNEL SEASON !!

As I drove into town today I noted not less than ten of the fifteen people that I passed, men and women AND children, all wearing some sort of flannel attire.  Shirts were the most common but there were a few flannel jackets and even one flannel hat.  Flannel seems to be the official "go to" article of clothing as soon as the temperature dips below 65 degrees. Today we woke up to 53 degrees with the high only being 65. Thus the huge display of flannel on the citizens of Gladstone.  

I believe Flannel season lasts until all the leaves on the trees have fully changed color.   This color change begins some time in mid August, (This is a true fact. I have my colorful collection for this year already started.) and continues for about two months until mid October when the trees are pretty close to being naked.  By mid October the world has turned grey, the hummingbirds and many other species of animal and snow birds have left town or settled in for the long winter season. The flannel has been replaced with muckalucks, parkas and snow shoes.   

IT'S WHERE ????????

 Once again I need to talk about "D Speak".  I have often written about how I have difficulty understanding The Man but today I was not alone. It made my heart lighter just knowing that I am not the only one who can't understand what The Man is talking about.  

Around one o'clock The Man had just gone into the bedroom to take a nap after an exhausting morning of sitting on his lawn mower while I followed him around on foot doing all the physical labor.  First we put 3 LARGE black garbage bags FULL of "stuff" that we had cleaned out of the garage weeks ago.  I had stacked all the trash on to one large pile in the center of the garage.  The Man had been witness to each and every item that was placed in the trash bags so it was all good to be thrown out.  Supposedly it was all going to be taken to the dump but it just never made it there. (Big surprise!). This morning The Man decided WE would put some of the trash into his little trailer in back of his lawnmower and WE would take it out to the road where the trash can sits.  I lifted, hauled and dumped the 3 bags and then he drove back up to the garage to see what else was still there.  WE then took 3 boxes over to the fire pit where he supervised the burning of each and every item.  Questioning each and every thing as I pulled it out of the boxes.  (I kept reminding him that WE had gone through all this stuff weeks ago and he had given me the "OK" to get rid of it but that was weeks ago and this was today.)

After the burning, which The Man observed from the comfort of his lawnmower WE decided to go look around the house to see what else needed to be done.  WE needed to find the 2 large pieces of styrofoam that he uses to cover a basement window for the winter.  WE couldn't find them so The Man had to drive all the way over to the garage, (all fifty feet) so that he could tell me where to look next.  WE finally found the stuff and got to carry it over to the house where it was placed next to the window in anticipation of our 2 neighbor boys, Tanner and Trevor, who would come over one day this week to mow the lawn.  

WE then were exhausted so WE went to sit in the garage on the lawn mower while one of us got to look through some more boxes that WE were curious about.  That lasted about a half hour until The Man decided he needed a nap.  As he went into the house he told me I COULD, (as if I needed permission) cut back 3 small bushes that were growing around the house.  

The Man wasn't asleep more than a half hour when I heard the 2 boys outside on their mowers cutting the lawn.  Sure enough the next thing I knew The Man was back out of the bedroom asking what was going on.     HUM ??????  2 boys and a lawn mower . . . .  what do you THINK is going on ??????      Well, that was it for my quiet time while The Man napped.  

But like all things "Man" it was not that simple.  If WE have 2 boys here with a lawn mower you would think there would be nothing for us to do.  NOT !!!  The Man HAD to come outside to supervise because these boys have never mowed a lawn before . . . or so you would think.  As the boys were racing around on their mower The Man decided I needed to stop them and have them do some other chores for him. You know those 2 pieces of styrofoam I had moved over to the house?  Well The Man needed to supervise the placing of said foam over the window opening.  God love those kids, they didn't even blink.  Then it was on to the mattress spring.  

Yes, I did say mattress spring . . . It seems that The Man likes to get a mattress spring every couple of years so that he can hook it to the back of his tractor.  Once attached The Man drives the tractor up and down the gravel and dirt driveway to "smooth" it out.  This is a fairly large waste of time because the dirt is so packed down that no amount of mattress dragging is going to make a difference, but what the Hell, it makes him happy.   Problem being that The Man can not attach this mattress spring to the tractor by himself and there is no freaking way I am lifting a mattress spring. So this is where the boys come in.  

One problem . . .   before we can attach the spring to the tractor we need to get the "spool of wire" from the garage.  Now I KNOW what a spool is and I know what wire is but The Man had to give a twenty minute dissertation on wire and spools. I asked him where I should begin my search and he looked at me like I was asking what size girdle the Queen of England wore. Remember we have a cellar and 3 garages plus a lean-to AND the entryway with it's gigantic cabinets.  I thought I had a valid question but I guess not.  I was directed to the work bench in the garage.  A logical choice which is probably where I would have looked first anyway.  As I skipped merrily off to the garage I knew full well there would be no spool of wire on the workbench.  (The Man's workbench looks worse than the attic, cellar and 3 garages all combined.  Put plainly, it's a MESS !! ) 

Out in the garage I looked on the work bench, in the 3 large cabinets, on the walls and floor and any other place I could think that a spool of wire would have been thrown..  NO wire.  With that the 2 boys showed up, (sent by The Man, I'm sure, to help the "stupid woman".). Now 3 of us couldn't find the wire.  Next thing we knew The Man arrived on his mower ready to help all three of us idiots.  As The Man sat in the doorway of the garage he started telling us to look "THERE".  No pointing to give us a clue, just "there!". all 3 of us tried to narrow down where we were supposed to be looking but after ten minutes we all agreed there was NO WIRE!  (Had it been discussed I think we also would have agreed that The Man was an idiot!) 

 That was when The Man decided the wire must be in the OTHER garage. WE all moved next door and continued our game of "look and seek" with no better luck of finding where "THERE" was.  Thankfully one of the boys found something that would suffice and the hunt was over.  

The mattress spring is all ready to go but I would bet my life savings that The Man will NOT get on his tractor to smooth the driveway any time before we leave here for Florida.   Anyone care to take that bet with me?

DOPEY ME !

 I spent a good portion of last night composing today's blog in my head when I couldn't sleep. I went to bed cursing the work men of the UP and the stupidity of The Man for hiring such incompetent idiots. No wonder I couldn't sleep . . . I was on a crusade to strike down all of the male population of the world.

Funny thing is  . . . it turned out I am the "stupid idiot" !  

Backing up and in my defense it has been a VERY STRESSFUL couple of days since this whole bathroom renovation began.  (To be perfectly honest the past 50 years have been pretty stressful but we won't go back THAT far. )  Remind me to tell you about my doctor appointment on Wednesday afternoon.

The fact that the shower arrived with no doors, I was without a bathroom for 12 hours and then the water temperature couldn't be adjusted to higher than tepid all set me up for yesterday's "meltdown".  By yesterday afternoon the workers were gone, the bathroom was functional, the new shower had a curtain that sort of kept the water in until the shower doors arrive and the water could be raised to a scalding temperature if need be.  On Wednesday night I had taken my lukewarm "rinse off" standing in the new shower stall, using the hand held spray, trying to keep the water from spraying all over the floor because there was no curtain yet.  Needless to say it was frustrating, cold and annoying as hell.  So last night when we had a curtain, the water was hot and the large wall mounted shower head was now functional I was ready for a nice relaxing hot shower.  

Picture my reaction when I reached in, turned on the water for the wall shower and nothing happened.  There was a very small dribble of water seeping out of the shower head and nothing more.  The little water  that was coming out was hot but there wasn't enough of it to wet a wash cloth never mind to shower in.  As I muttered and cursed and pissed and moaned I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door to call to The Man who was on the phone in the kitchen.  I didn't care if he was talking to Joe Biden, Donald Trump or the Pope . . . I was PISSED !!!!!!   

Apparently I must have been giving off thermo nuclear vibes because he immediately hung up the phone and asked what was wrong.  I told him to follow me and then proceeded to show him the non-shower shower.  His reaction was. "Well, what the Hell?" (The fact that he had "washed off" earlier using the hand held shower where he can sit on the built in seat gave him no reason to be too upset about my predicament.)  We both stood looking at the dripping water and then he wandered back to the kitchen stating that he would  call the plumber in the morning.  I went on to use "his" shower which was OK but not great. 

We went to bed around 11:00 and by 1:00 AM I was awake and blogging in my head.  I couldn't believe the sheer stupidity of these idiots who connected the shower and never tested it before they left. I mean, what sort of a moron does that ???????   STUPID PEOPLE !!!!!  My brain ranted on and on for well over two hours until I finally fell back to sleep. 

This morning I woke up around 9:30 and wandered out into the kitchen.  There sat The Man having his coffee, waiting for me to offer to cook breakfast.  When I greeted him with a grunt he must have remembered the shower because when I came out of the bathroom he was on the phone with the plumber .  The plumber was telling The Man to go into the shower and look at the shower head.  Did he see a small knob on the shower head that moved around the outer rim ?  Of course The Man was unable to do this without me so there we both stood staring up at the shower head. At first I couldn't see any such knob because this shower head is nearly as high up on the wall as the ceiling. (Placed on the wall so they didn't have to cut into the pre-fab form of the shower stall.) Upon closer scrutiny there was indeed a small silver lever that can be moved to change the flow of the water.  VOILA !!!!!  Turn it left and there is a steady stream of water, turn it right and the water slows to a trickle. 

BOY DID I FEEL STUPID !!!! 

When the plumber arrived this afternoon to do some last minute things I had to apologize to him for being an idiot.  He was very gracious.  I wonder if he would have been as nice if he had read the blog I had composed in my head at 3 in the morning ? 

P.S.  Remember I mentioned a doctor appointment I had on Wednesday? I went in because my blood pressure has been all over the map and running really high at times.  The nurse practitioner and I decided it could be my home BP machine is faulty because when she took my BP in her office it was perfect ! As we were discussing other possible causes she asked if I had a lot of stress at home because all the HIGH readings are done at home.  I explained that I lived with a man and we both laughed and decided that did indeed solve the issue of my high blood pressure. 

 Two days later The Man finally asked me what the doctor had said. I told him the problem could be my machine or it could be stress.  Of course you know exactly what The Man said . .  . with a straight face and in all seriousness he said,     " What do YOU have to be stressed about ? "  

I just left the room.  And I did NOT take my blood pressure right then because you know I would have been on my way to the ER when I saw those numbers.  

A VERY SHITTY DAY !!!!!

 So. . .  remember how I yesterday I told you  about the new walk-in-shower being installed in our tiny bathroom?   Well, if I thought the day had started poorly with The Man going on and on about who knew what it only got OH SO much worse.  

Let me begin by telling you that if you are of a delicate nature and do not appreciate "Potty" humor just stop right now and read no further.  The story is just too funny not to tell but it is not something your Palm Beach Socialites would be discussing over cocktails. ( Or would they ? ) 

Our ONE and only bathroom here on "The Farm" is small.  It is about the size of my shed in Florida. Maybe 7' X 7' if that.  There was a tub, a very small sink with no vanity and a small toilet.  (The toilet is probably the smallest toilet I have ever seen but since it does the job that's just fine.  Less to clean!)  This bathroom is the one and ONLY bathroom in or out of the house.  Once upon a time there was an outhouse out by the garage but that has gone where ever old out houses go.  I REALLY do wish it was still out there for days like yesterday. 

Yesterday morning the 3 workers arrived at 8:00 AM, well before my mind or body was awake.  I was up and moving, (sort of) but my body really didn't''t wake up until about an hour later. (My brain remained sleeping for another few hours.). 

The workmen, all 3 of them, got busy immediately tearing out the tub in our little bathroom.  The Man and I had actually thought ahead and borrowed a "Porto-Potty" from The Man's brother's camp as a back up plan in case of "emergencies".  It was small but would provide a place to make bodily deposits if necessary. 

Or so I thought.

I must take a moment here to explain to you that like just about everything else in my life NOTHING is predictable or works on a schedule. With some people you can tell the time of day by their trips to the bathroom.  I don't know how they do that but I have never been that fortunate.  My life is totally "Hit or Miss" or in this case, "Poop or Pee" when ever.  (I realize this is totally TMI but it is relevant to the story.) I am as surprised as the next guy as to when my body decides to eliminate anything.  I can go days or I can go all day.  It's either feast or famine so to speak.  

I also realize that as Murphy's law states, if something can go "wrong" it will.  Following that hypothesis I knew for sure I was going to be in trouble the minute our bathroom was out of commission. (Besides having 3 strangers in my bathroom the water in the house was turned off for the entire 7 hours that they were working on the shower.) 

So as 9 AM rolled onto the clock my bowels decided to do some rolling of their own.  I was given warnings and I knew I had the little porto-potty just in case but as the clock continued ticking my "stomach" continued churning until I realized this was no small matter that a tiny porto-potty could or should be required to handle. (The realization that I would be the one having to empty and clean said porto-potty before returning made me think I had better come up with an alternate plan FAST !)

Has anyone else out there run into the problem of NOTHING public being open thanks to stupid Covid?

Now I could have driven ten miles into Escanaba to the Walmart which I knew had bathrooms that were open but I wasn't quite sure I was going to make it ten miles without Mt. Vesuvius erupting.  I needed to think of someplace a LOT closer.  There are 3 gas stations within a 5 mile radius but I have been inside all three of these charming places and I REALLY did not want to experience their bathrooms.  

Unlike all the grocery stores in Florida the tiny little grocery in town does not have a public bathroom. And then I thought of Mac Donalds . . . just down the road . . .  PERFECT !!!  Who hasn't made a run for the bathroom in Mac Donalds ?   I grabbed the car keys and told The Man, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, I was going to Macky D's to make a potty run and would be back shortly.  I'm sure you can guess what The Man said . . .   As I stood before him in the kitchen hopping from one foot to another desperately trying to keep from pooping in my pants, The Man said, "Oh Good, why don't you get us something for breakfast?"  And as is the case with all things "Man" he proceeded to go down the list of his breakfast menu options trying to decide what he would like to eat.  If I had stayed there any longer I know something would have occurred that would have taken EVERYONES appetite away for the next 12 months.   I believe I grabbed the car keys and gave The Man a "fine fine . . . " as I made a bee line for the car.  

As I drove merrily down the road at ninety miles an hour I did quite a bit of muttering to myself. "Freaking country living!", "Stupid Man can't shut up", "Holy Crap I hope I make it to Mac D's". As I came to the intersection at the bottom of the hill I realized there was road construction and one lane of the "highway" was closed. Apparently people in the UP do not know what to do when there are lane closures because there was a line of traffic all trying to decide which of the 2 lanes was the closed one and which was the lane they should drive in.  It was at this point that I started yelling at God who I KNOW was laughing His head off at my predicament. Funny Guy that God !  As the traffic finally crept down to the next light where I could turn into Mac Donalds I started thinking I was going to be good . . . All would be well with the world and there would be no need to have to sell The Man's car after I exploded in it.  I flew around the corner and pulled into the parking lot, jumped out of the car and headed for the door of Mac D. only to be stopped dead by a locked door and a sign that said, "Due to Covid our lobby is not open to the public.  Please use the drive through window."   Who are they kidding ????  I CAN'T use the drive through window for what I need !

Back into the car with my mind racing I remembered that there were public bathrooms in the lake side park across the road.  I knew that other public restrooms in the UP were open so maybe, just maybe, this one would be open also.  As I parked at the curb in front of the potty building in the park I tried to keep my cool and look like I was just out for a stroll in the park. It took all my physical and mental effort to try to pull this off because my brain was screaming, "hurry hurry" and "What do I do if this building is locked?"  ( I honestly think I would have just kept walking down to the waters edge and into the lake until I drowned." )

Thankfully the door was open, the lights were on and there was even some, (not much but some), toilet paper in the stall.  

When I finally returned to the car, thirty pounds lighter, I had to laugh at the silliness of the entire experience.  I stopped at the drive through at Mac Donalds to get The Man his breakfast and to flip them the bird as I drove away.  

 All the way home I kept running through the events of the past hour knowing full well I just HAD to share this with you.  

FOREIGN LANGUAGES

 I was a VERY "stupid" child.  That would be a horrid thing to say in this day and age but it is the truth. I wan't "worldly" and I wasn't someone who could pick up on innuendos or hints.  I required point blank instructions given one at a time allowing me time to process and absorb.  I often wonder if I would have been labeled as having a learning disability or was I just a "slow learner".  What ever the cause I managed fairly well to over come my failings, even if it took nearly fifty years.  

In high school I was required to learn a foreign language. In my infinite ignorance I, (or the powers that were directing my life at that time), decided it would be a good idea for me to learn LATIN !  Having never known anything about different languages I went into this class like a pig to the slaughter. I was in WAY over my head and had NO idea what the hell I was doing. Two years later I managed to flunk that class and go on to an "easier" language . . . French.  It really wasn't much better but I did have those two failed years of Latin to help me. I think I passed the "French" regents and final with a 66. Language was NOT my thing !!!  

On the flip side of that I can look at a piece of furniture and tell you how to turn it in order to get it through a door way and around a corner. I guess I am better solving "spacial" problems then ones with with words.  I HATE abstract math problems or ones that involve several steps . . . as in algebra and geometry.  I also hate math problems where a train leaves a station at 12:32 and moves at 63 MPH heading east and a second train leaves a different station . . .  well you get what I'm talking about.  TMI . . .  TOO MUCH INFORMATION !!!!!!!!     I can't process all that !

And so, knowing all that, I find it extremely cruel that God, in his infinite wisdom and extraordinary sense of humor, has seen fit to have me living with a person who can NOT make a bit of sense to me when he speaks.  

The Man does not know how to USE HIS WORDS !!  

Remember when your young child wanted something and they would grunt and point at whatever? My response was always . . . "USE YOUR WORDS".  In other words, think about the message you want to convey and then using the least amount of DESCRIPTIVE words tell me what you are thinking. 

OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN . . .  I do believe I could communicate with an orangutan easier than I can talk with this man. 

Case in point . . .  Today we are having workers here to take out our bathtub and replace it with a walk-in-shower. We ordered this work last May when we first returned to Michigan. We have been waiting 4 months for the material to come in and for the work to start.  Today is the day !  This morning we were up early anticipating the arrival of the workers.  The Man was up three hours before any scheduled arrival as usual. I staggered out about ten minutes before anyone was due to arrive so I could wash my face and brush my teeth. As I wandered into the kitchen The Man spoke.  (Please remember I am still really not awake yet.)  The conversation went something like this . . .  The Man . ."IT'S been on order but it's not here."      Me . . .  "?"             The Man . . . "They couldn't get the doors"                  Me . . . "?"               The Man . . ."But they're still going to do the work."               Me . . .  "?"           (Please note that I am standing in the door way to the kitchen, I am still half asleep AND I have to pee.).         NONE of this conversation is making the least bit of sense to me.  I'm still back at what the "F" is "IT" and who the "F" is "THEY" ?        I manage to stagger to the bathroom only to be assaulted with more "outrage" on my way back to the bedroom.  

The Man was in a tizzy about something that had to do with the days work but he was making no sense to me.  He kept going on about "They", "It", "Them"  and multiple words involving dates and times and people none of which were specific or had names.   I finally gave up and just walked away shaking my head to clear it.  I proceeded to get dressed and wake up enough to return to the kitchen to try to untangle the assault of words that had just been hurled at me.  FIFTEEN minutes later I was able to put together the facts of the issue.  There are no shower doors for the new shower stall.  

I have just given you the crux of the problem in TEN words.      THERE.   ARE.    NO.    SHOWER.    DOORS.      FOR.     THE.      NEW.     SHOWER.      STALL.   

There are many days that I wonder if The Man is actually speaking English.   He has this habit of starting a sentence somewhere in the middle and giving NO clues to who or what he is talking about.  Persons are referred to as "They" or "He/She".  Places are identified as "there" or "here" and things are titled "IT".   (I think Stephen King may have gotten the idea for his famous story of Pennywise The Clown from The Man.  Everything is "IT" and that is terrifying.)

I just smile and move on but when the doctor wants to know why my blood pressure is so high I just answer,     "HE did IT" !