TIME TO GO HOME

 I need a reprieve . . .  it's time to go home and stop living like a pioneer in the 1800's.  

I want to go home to my nice condo in Florida where I have central AC, a dish washer, ( a REAL dish washer that washes the dishes FOR ME !), a refrigerator that I can fit a gallon of milk on the top shelf withoutt moving twenty other things around like a master chess player,  I want to go home to MY house where I know where everything is in the kitchen, where I can take out anything I want and put it anywhere I want.  I want to return to MY HOUSE where I do not have to ask permission to use the washer and dryer so that I can do three hundred and forty seven loads of wash a day if I choose.  I want togo home where I  am able to scrape a dirty plate into the sink and have the waste disposal chew up the scraps for me instead of having to walk out of the house and into the field to toss food out for the "critters" because if I put it in the garbage it will smell.   I want my own kitchen garbage bag instead of the big waste bin in The Man's kitchen that I am not allowed to use because he doesn't want it to get smelly. Instead we have a plastic bag hanging off of a drawer in the kitchen so that every time you walk past it falls onto the floor.  Then when it is full, (like every other hour) it has to be carried all the way down the driveway to the garbage can out by the road.   I want garbage pick up TWO times a WEEK instead of 2 times a month.  

I want my own master bathroom where I can take a three hour shower if I want because I don't have to worry about filling up the septic tank.  I want water that isn't slimy. (If you have never experienced "soft" water you don't know what you are not missing. It is water that leaves you feeling like the soap is not washed off.  It is weird!) I want MY bedroom where I have an actual end table, not a cooler chest, standing next to my side of the bed so that when I wake up in the middle of the night I can find my glasses or whatever I may want or need.  I want to be able to wake up at three AM and not have to wander through the entire house to go to pee. I want my recliner in the living room at MY house so that if I wake up in the middle of the night I have a place to go to sit and be comfortable when I can't sleep.   I want INTERNET that is fast and unlimited instead of having to keep track of how long I am on my computer so we don't run out of internet hours.  I want to be able to watch TV while sitting on a couch instead of a hard kitchen chair.  I want a BIG TV !!!  I want a SMART TV !!!!  I want MY TV's where I can watch Netflix, HBO Max or another streaming channel instead of having to watch things on my computer.  I want a CLICKER to change channels. 

Will I miss Michigan ?    Sure.    Will I be ready to return here in the spring ?     Probably.     But right now I am done done done with living in the Middle Ages where the finest cuisine is found at Burger King or Mac Donalds.  I am SO ready to go out to a restaurant and eat like a civilized person. To eat a meal that is not delivered by an acne ridden teenager.  To eat a meal that is not a burger or fried chicken.  

I have made a vow to myself that when I return to Florida next week I am going out to lunch at least once a week with friends.  I can't wait to have intelligent conversations with my female friends.  I am looking forward to dressing up in nice clothes and even putting on make-up!  I am leaving behind the flannel shirts and jeans along with my sloppy sweat pants and sneakers.  

Civilization here I come !!!!

CRANKY PANTS

 Today I have on my Cranky Pants.  They are not literal pants but rather a miserable mood that comes over me more often than I care to admit.  I wish they were real pants because then I could pull them off and burn them instead of having them dictate my mood for the day.

When I was married to Husband he would constantly tell me to "Just Get Over It" which sounds like such a simple solution . . . if only it were possible.  Sadly that is not the case so that on the days that I wake up wanting to kill anyone within ten feet of me or just pull the covers up and over my head for the next 24/48 hours instead I have to force myself to be PLEASANT and NICE.  Just like a good person should.

Well in the words of Ebenezer Scrooge . . .BAH HUMBUG on that.  I really do think I would be much more satisfied if I had a baseball bat in my hand right about now and could go on a rampage of smashing everything and everyone in sight.

Instead I am holed up in the guest bedroom with my "go to" mental health outlet . . . my computer.   

I AM TIRED !!!!!  Can I list some of the things I am tired of ?  I am tired of living someone else's life.  I am tired of having an old body. I am tired of doing all the thinking. I am tired of not being able to eat what and when I want. I am tired of not being able to watch what I want when I want.  I am tired.  I am tired of NOT being single.  Stupid stupid me.   

Are you tired of listening to this crap???  Or do you sometimes feel the same way.  Am I alone in this ?  

I think I have a very strong faith and I wholly and completely believe that The Lord has put me where He wants me to be. I DO believe that.  I don't think our lives are random.  I believe that we are guided by God to do His will.  IF we choose to do so is our choice.  I talk about this to God A LOT !!  He pats me on the head, gives me enough strength to get through that moment and we move on.  

I'm not sure a pat on the head is enough today.   I may have to enlist the help of God's second's in command    . . .  JIM BEAM or JACK DANIELS .     I'll let you know how that works out.  

WIND AND WAVES

 It was a wonderful day today.  Well, about a half hour of is was wonderful.  The rest of the day was just so-so.  It is Tuesday and Tuesday means we drive out to Manistique so The Man can do is hour of physical therapy. While he is huffing and puffing away on a treadmill I am walking on the beach at the northern end of Lake Michigan.  The lake is so large I can imagine it to be the ocean and some days the waves on the lake really make it seem like an ocean rather than a lake.  

Today the waves were small in comparison to Florida but large enough to have white caps as they rolled onto the shore.  The "beach" is a mixture of sand and dirt which makes for very easy walking so I take full advantage of that. I have the timing for my hour of freedom down to a science.  I leave The Man at PT and make the short drive down the road to a small parking lot on the beach.  I must say the state of Michigan does an A +++ job at keeping up their rest areas and road side stops.  This particular spot has a large covered cement area that houses about ten picnic tables, a soda machine and very clean bathrooms for men and women.  (There are no gender issues here)  

By the time I park and pee I have about 40 minutes to walk.  Last year when I discovered this parking spot I would walk the parking lot and on down to the river where there is a boat launch, a snack bar and a souvenir shop.  There is also a camp ground that I have walked through admiring the huge motor homes that are parked there.  (Those things must cost a small fortune!). But this year I decided to check out the beach to see how difficult it would be walking on the sand.   I know in Florida it kills my back to walk any distance on the beach but up here I discovered that once I got around the small inlet the sand was hard packed and super easy and pleasant to walk on.  It is WONDERFUL !!  I am alone with the occasional sea gull and the sound of the waves and the wind.  

I HAVE FOUND A HAPPY PLACE !!!

I take tons of pictures because with the camera on my phone I can take tons and tons of photos and then later sit and edit and delete.  (Love these phones) I turn off the ringer on my phone so no one will disturb me and I am off and walking looking for treasures.  Unlike Florida beaches the treasures on a lake beach usually come in the form of driftwood or rocks.  Lake Superior has wonderful rocks, Lake Michigan seems to have mostly driftwood.  There are large skeletons of trees all along the beach and I look with envy thinking how wonderful they would look in my garden in Florida. (Silly me). But there are also bunches of small odd shaped pieces of wood that have found their way to this place.  Today I found 3 pieces that called to me so they are now out on our picnic table drying in the sun.  Haven't decided yet what I will do with them. Good possibility they will end up as fire wood in our fire pit but that won't happen any time this year.  

I will only have one more day to walk on this beach before we return to Florida but I have lots of pictures to look at until we return next spring.  

HOW MANY . . . . . . .

 I remember an old joke from when I was a kid back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.  It went something like, "How many . . .  (insert your ethnic group of choice here) . . . does it take to screw in a light bulb?" There were various answers to this and as I recall each answer was funnier than the last.  

I AM NOT LAUGHING . . .  

This past week was rough.  Trying to recover, clean and restore the house and my life to "normal" after our weeks worth of house guests wore me down.  The Man was cranky, I was cranky and the world decided to play games with our heads.  It was one of those weeks where NOTHING went right. Probably because we were tired things that normally might not have bothered us got to be major issues.  It was a terrible battle for me to keep from slapping someone up-side his head.  I did a LOT of talking to God this past week and thankfully God was listening because He always directed my attention to something soothing. Like right now . . .  I'm sitting outside under the big maple tree enjoying a cool breeze that is helping me to cool down in more ways than one. 

But back to our riddle/joke.  This weeks version of the joke is, "How many times does it take The Man to check a fuse before he admits there is a problem?"  

Back in November of last year The Man bought a used Honda Odyssey. It was not a good move and I had a very strong feeling that this was NOT the car to buy but having learned my lessons well I kept my mouth shut.  He is a grown man and should be capable of making his own decisions.  Usually this is the case but in this particular instance he, (we) were basically given the full on push as only a car salesman can do. The Man went through with the purchase and was basically happy with the car.  There was an issue early on where the dealership really took advantage of The Man but once that was all sorted out he was good to go.  The mini van is perfect for his needs of getting oxygen concentrators and tanks in and out of the car quite easily.  The sliding side doors make travel so much simpler for him, (us). 

Fast forward to just before we left Florida to come to MI.  I noticed the transmission was occasionally slipping. I gathered my courage to mention this to The Man and he actually said he had noticed the same thing.  OK  Did he do anything about it?  No, of course not.  But forget the transmission, we will save that problem for a day when we are 2,000 miles from home and in the middle of a monsoon or something.  Heaven forbid !    

Then somewhere in the middle of the summer we started to have a problem with the cigarette lighter in the front of the car.  Normally one would say, "who cares?" but because The Man is on oxygen we have to travel with an oxygen concentrator AND a spare concentrator AND a large oxygen tank AND a small oxygen tank.  (Breathing being a key issue here) we need power for the concentrators. The oxygen tanks are good for moving to and from the car but they only contain enough oxygen for a couple of hours at most.  Our main source of oxygen while in the car is the electric concentrator that plugs into the cigarette lighter.  So if the cigarette lighter is not working The Man is not breathing.  Minor detail !

Anyway . . .  the first time the concentrator started beeping alerting us to the fact that it was no longer receiving electricity The Man, after cursing for a few seconds, wiggled the wires and resolved the problem.  Then it happened again and again and again.  The Man cursed, wiggled wires, pulled the power cord out and pushed it back in and cursed some more.  "It must be the cord" said The Man.  Two weeks later we had a new cord and that worked fine for about a month.  Then this past week it all went of hell in a hand basket.  The cigarette lighter died completely.  The man of course blamed the wire. Tried a second wire and that didn't work either.  (The light bulb is slowly being lit in The Man's brain.). The Man reads the owners manual for the car and finds there is a second lighter outlet in the back of the car.  (Let me take a moment here to remind you that The Man does not get out to do or check any of this. I am the idiot climbing in and out of the car.). So, we plug the cord into the back lighter and it does not work.  Maybe it IS the cord.  We plug in a second cord and it DOES work.   For all of about 5 minutes and then that one dies.   

Now I am not an electrician but something tells me there IS a problem. The car is shorting out the power boxes on the cords? I don't know but I do know there is something wrong and since we  are leaving Michigan in less than TWO weeks for a 1,600 mile drive to Florida. I doubt very much The Man can hold his breath for that long. Something needs to be done.

The Man decides, (and this is where the old joke comes in) the problem is a FUSE.  A reasonable deduction. And so we begin The Great Fuse Search of 2022.  First we have to find the little buggers.  Turns out a 2019 Honda odyssey had THREE fuse boxes.  This fact was established when we made our first stop at an auto supply store.  (Did you know these stores don't just sell stuff?  They will come out to your car and run tests on the car!). I was sent into the shop to get help. A lovely young man came out, found two fuse boxes, pulled out the fuse for the cigarette lighter and said it looked fine.  End of that stop.   We return home so that The Man can have me go under the hood and check for myself.  I refused to get down on the ground to wiggle into the drivers side of the car to access fuse box # 2 but I did get to search out and find fuse box # 3 in the way back of the car.  (WE) I opened that, switched fuses and still no luck.   Does The Man accept the fact that it is NOT a fuse issue.  NO     Next day we drive to another auto supply store and after a half hour and THREE workers later we now have establishes that all the fuses are just fine !!!  And yet The Man continues to believe the problem is caused by a fuse.   Next stop is to the Toyota dealer in town, (The Honda dealer is an hour and a half away).  Toyota service department is wonderful.  They listen, look and test ALL the fuses.  They take the wires we have for the concentrator out to their own cars n the parking lot and plug them in to see if the wires are working.  THEY ARE NOT.  They test the cigarette lighters and determine that the back on is working but the front on is bad.  But since we have now blown out both of our power cords that does us no good.  

It is here that I suggest we call Honda and make an appointment.  Grumble grumble grumble.  I also suggest that perhaps The Man needs to order a new power cord and NOT plug it into the car until we get the car looked at.  Grumble grumble grumble. 

I have no idea where this is all going.  We have a car appointment at Honda for next week.  New power cord for the concentrator is ordered and I am drinking Jack Daniels Honey by the pint.  

ONCE AGAIN . . . LET'S PLAY . . . IT'S NOT MY . . . . . . . .

 All right then everyone, it is once again time to play our favorite game of, "It's NOT my . . . ".  This is the game where you get to fill in the blank regarding what thing is NOT something you have to concern yourself with.

Unfortunately I am not very good at this game.  It seems that I constantly get myself into situations where I should have just kept my big mouth shut.  I foolishly have this stupid idea that I can possibly contribute something to what ever is happening at the moment.  How very silly of me!!  

Today's segment of the game is, "It's NOT MY party".  I swore that I was not going to get involved in any of the planning or preparing for today's gathering but some how I managed to get myself in the middle of the shit storm. The up side of all that is I get to come outside under my favorite tree and blog.  (I find blogging is better than drinking or drugs because I can find the humor in a situation when I write.)

Let's go back to the beginning of this latest upset in my life.  We, (The Man), have house guests for 10 days.   The Man's son, girlfriend and her 2 boys, (ages 7 & 9) arrived here last Saturday from Alaska.  That is GREAT !!  The man enjoys his son's visits, the son is super helpful and fixes all sorts of stuff around the place and they cook !!  BUT, it is 4 extra people in a tiny, one bathroom house. Stressful to say the least especially when you are old and cranky and never know what or when your bodily functions want to kick in. I swore to myself I would stay out of the way and under the proverbial radar.  Easy to say, not so easy to do.  And this is where our game of, "It's NOT MY . . .  " kicks in.    I have to keep reminding myself it is not my family, not my house, not my place to say or do anything.  I find this nearly impossible !!!  

Today it came to a head when I tried to help, something that I promised myself I WOULD NOT do while our guests were here.  I have managed to remember this vow for three whole days but I lost it today. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID !!!!  

Our house guests are having a family, friend gathering here at the farm today.  WONDERFUL !  I am totally on board with this.  The Son and his friend are doing all the buying, cooking and work associated with a gathering of 15 people.  Their choice of menu which they are totally handling.  I have stayed as far removed from this as possible.  All was well with the world.  

UNTIL . . .  the logistics of setting up for the party became an issue.  The IDIOT, (AKA, The Man) decides the outdoor cooking and food set up should be done on a small 36 inch camping table out on the patio.  (When I got up this morning there were numerous pans and bowls of food that will be turned into fish tacos.  There is NO chance in Hell that all the food that I saw was going to fit on a 36 INCH table.) And so, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID me said, "Why don't you get the big folding table out of the garage to set up and work on. I will give you a lot more room." It was just a thought that I stupidly put into words.  You would think I had suggested The Man rip out his eyeballs and shove them up his nose. There was much huffing and puffing on his part so I just shut up and walked inside to do some dishes.  Next thing I know The Man is in the kitchen telling me to get the extension cord and put it out the bedroom window so the cooks can plug in the deep frier.   I reply, (because I am totally pissed at The Man) "Have DJ plug it in, he is right at the bottom of the stairs where there is a plug and you can put the cord out through the window right there.

BIG MISTAKE !!!!  The Man had it set in his head that the cord should be brought into the house, into the bedroom and snaked out through the bedroom window. 

Let us pause here for a moment and contemplate what happens when you put a large industrial extension cord out a window.  You must OPEN the window, right ?  Even if you then try to shut the window as much as possible there is still a half inch wide opening where bugs can get in. Normally this would not matter except that this morning while we were sitting on the patio there were HUNDREDS of flies.  The conversation was "Where did all these flies come from?", "Why are there so many flies?" "What is going on here and how do we get rid of the flies before the party."   Would you like to guess where the bedroom window opens out onto the patio ?????  If you guessed right above where all the flies were you are    correct !!!! I would have liked to have pointed this out to The Idiot, aka The Man but there was no further discussion to be had.  He wanted the cord out the bedroom window so I put the freaking cord out the freaking window.  

I'll keep you posted on how my, "NOT MY problem" works out today.