Okay folks you might want to pull up a chair and grab a cup of coffee. Putting up your feet might be a good idea cause it's been a while and I have a lot to say these days.
This weekend was Hubby's birthday. Don't ask him how it was. Not only did I have to work, but he was wallowing in water at my parents where they sprung a leak. You see, we had four days of warmish rain that ended in wet slushy snow. It drove the frost out of the ground so fast the earth could not absorb it. Hence the indoor wading pool in Mom and Dad's basement.
My parents are a unique team. My father is six feet' two, and Italian. His family hails from Northern Italy. My mother is five feet and two inches. She would like to tell you she is five foot three but I'm pretty sure she shrunk in the last couple of years. My mother is blond (still. and yes it ticks me off)(cause I'm gray all over) with pale exotic green eyes. Haven't a clue where it came from because one side was British and the other Canadian Prairie. (Our version of rednecks.) They still make a very striking couple when they walk into a room.
My mother can be a tad obsessive when she gets worried. My father just gets mad. Now put the two together and what do you get? Total chaos. Actually its not quite that bad but when you walk into it, your third eye begins to immediately pierce a shard of glass into your brain. Or
at least mine does. Hubby manages to keep me sane at moments like this. Its a divide and conquer kind of thing.
I get a phone call at the ungodly hour of...really really early. I think around 7 am. Now I know for you early birds like my Mom, that you will be the first to forage for the worms. But I'm up at night, and I've eaten, sooooo I don't really need that worm. Anyway, I digressed there. I get up bleary eyed and answer the phone. Mom tells me that Dad is on his way to Home Depot to get a shop vac to get rid of the water in the basement.
Now this is where things get very fuzzy as I was up late the night before visiting with Hubby (Cause we haven't seen each other with this working thing). He was working on my website (which I will rant...I mean blog about after) There was two phone calls within fifteen minutes. In one of those phone calls I had to check our basement to reassure Mom, ours was okay. The trip
down the main stairs when one is groggy is bad enough with the shoes placed as obstacles. Then there's the 90 degree angled staircase to the depth of the crawl space under the house.
I recommend for future reference that I will not attempt that feat again. I emerged from the basement for a new found respect for stuntmen. The good news is, the puddle that had formed at the beginning of the rain was still the same size.
It was the second phone call that I realized I was not getting anymore sleep as my mother then proceeded to vent about my father using her bissel cleaner to suck up the water he was pouring down the drain which turned into a whole other venue. I was making some very strong coffee at that moment knowing within the depths of my heart I am going to have to wake up Hubby and let him know that we have to go over. If only to rescue my mother.
This weekend was Hubby's birthday. Don't ask him how it was. Not only did I have to work, but he was wallowing in water at my parents where they sprung a leak. You see, we had four days of warmish rain that ended in wet slushy snow. It drove the frost out of the ground so fast the earth could not absorb it. Hence the indoor wading pool in Mom and Dad's basement.
My parents are a unique team. My father is six feet' two, and Italian. His family hails from Northern Italy. My mother is five feet and two inches. She would like to tell you she is five foot three but I'm pretty sure she shrunk in the last couple of years. My mother is blond (still. and yes it ticks me off)(cause I'm gray all over) with pale exotic green eyes. Haven't a clue where it came from because one side was British and the other Canadian Prairie. (Our version of rednecks.) They still make a very striking couple when they walk into a room.
My mother can be a tad obsessive when she gets worried. My father just gets mad. Now put the two together and what do you get? Total chaos. Actually its not quite that bad but when you walk into it, your third eye begins to immediately pierce a shard of glass into your brain. Or
at least mine does. Hubby manages to keep me sane at moments like this. Its a divide and conquer kind of thing.
I get a phone call at the ungodly hour of...really really early. I think around 7 am. Now I know for you early birds like my Mom, that you will be the first to forage for the worms. But I'm up at night, and I've eaten, sooooo I don't really need that worm. Anyway, I digressed there. I get up bleary eyed and answer the phone. Mom tells me that Dad is on his way to Home Depot to get a shop vac to get rid of the water in the basement.
Now this is where things get very fuzzy as I was up late the night before visiting with Hubby (Cause we haven't seen each other with this working thing). He was working on my website (which I will rant...I mean blog about after) There was two phone calls within fifteen minutes. In one of those phone calls I had to check our basement to reassure Mom, ours was okay. The trip
down the main stairs when one is groggy is bad enough with the shoes placed as obstacles. Then there's the 90 degree angled staircase to the depth of the crawl space under the house.
I recommend for future reference that I will not attempt that feat again. I emerged from the basement for a new found respect for stuntmen. The good news is, the puddle that had formed at the beginning of the rain was still the same size.
It was the second phone call that I realized I was not getting anymore sleep as my mother then proceeded to vent about my father using her bissel cleaner to suck up the water he was pouring down the drain which turned into a whole other venue. I was making some very strong coffee at that moment knowing within the depths of my heart I am going to have to wake up Hubby and let him know that we have to go over. If only to rescue my mother.
When Dad gets mad at a situation he can have two reactions. The one that really terrifies us is the silent reaction with the cheek pulsating. This means he is really pissed. Then the explosion. It has only happened once or twice. I was at least once. The second reaction is to get mad at my mother. Like she had anything to do with it. And we all know including my mother that he is
mad at the situation not her. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with but at least we know where it is coming from.
mad at the situation not her. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with but at least we know where it is coming from.
At 8:30 the official call for help came in. Mom was really upset because Dad was handling the situation in his usual manner and she was getting really tired of being yelled at. This in turn has her even more stressed with the situation. I go upstairs and have to tell Hubby, who now yells at me because his pissed as having to deal with the situation. At this point, I'm wondering if
it's too early for the cherry whisky in the fridge?
it's too early for the cherry whisky in the fridge?
The bright spot was that Dad got a really skookum shop vac. (Mom gave the go ahead)
Now here's where the divide and conquer comes in. Hubby helps Dad, while Mom and I stay out of the way and drink coffee. I did say to Mom that she was pushing her practical gift idea to the extreme by throwing a practical birthday party for Hubby. The basement is still pretty wet but at least the ducks are no longer knocking at the door.
Hubby did say it made for an interesting birthday.
Hubby the other night was nagging me over some of the promotional stuff that I should have
been doing but I was in the middle of pounding out my next story. I looked up at him and said, "I don't know what I'm doing. All I want to do is write." He stood up and said, "That's it. I'm taking over." I said "Fine by me." and went back to writing.
been doing but I was in the middle of pounding out my next story. I looked up at him and said, "I don't know what I'm doing. All I want to do is write." He stood up and said, "That's it. I'm taking over." I said "Fine by me." and went back to writing.
It took me two weeks to do the temporary site and figure out how to do certain things. Hubby does two up in a matter of three days. Have you ever just wanted to reach out and smack somebody? Yeah, I had that moment for about an hour. Its now up and running. I actually feel better with Hubby taking things over. It keeps him in the loop but out of my hair at the same
time. I thinks its a win win agreement.
time. I thinks its a win win agreement.
I so can't wait until the truck is paid off and once I pick up Hubby a pond heater for the fish in the winter, I am done. I'm actually enjoying my job and I have met some really sweet people. The customer's on the whole are great. I can't take the floor. It's tile on cement. By the end
of my shift, my knees and hips are screaming at me. The till is like that inch too high and so
are the counters which is wreaking havoc on my shoulders. Its ridiculous. I'm mentally fine but my body is taking a beating. Its not like the job is overly physical but because everything is
for somebody six feet ten inches tall, it makes it hard on the body for us who are not the so called average.
of my shift, my knees and hips are screaming at me. The till is like that inch too high and so
are the counters which is wreaking havoc on my shoulders. Its ridiculous. I'm mentally fine but my body is taking a beating. Its not like the job is overly physical but because everything is
for somebody six feet ten inches tall, it makes it hard on the body for us who are not the so called average.
I set the pond up with the furniture yesterday. I can't wait until I can be out there on a full time basis. Its only a matter of days now.
3 comments:
I can fully relate to your problems with the height of worktops etc. My hubby is 6'3" and I'm 4'll". When we built this place I said I would like at least a portion of the workspace at table height to make it easy for me to work on. I was told it would look silly having one part lower so it was all made to suit his height :-)) He cooks about once in a blue moon. I also have a new wall oven which is too high for me to use safely. It's gone into the same hole that the old one came out of but the dimensions of this one are different. I can't reach across the drop-down door without burning my tits! Why they can't have doors that open sideways has me beat. I have to reach in sideways with one hand to retrieve stuff, and one of these days I'm going to drop something and burn my legs. I don't really even like wall ovens, but that decision was made for me too, because they were fashionable at the time!
They used to have doors that open sideways. My mom had one and you see them on the fancy cooking shows. Of course they will cost an arm and a leg.
Who scrubs the toilets in your house? You see in my house who ever scrubs the toilets theoreticaly makes the rules. I say theoreticaly because only the rules I nag about are listened to. And may I add, that's a lot of nagging. On second thought, put your feet up and hand Hubby the apron.
Keep smilin
He's happy to cook when asked, but has a penchant for charcoal and thinks it appeals to everyone. I have to make a point of saying I don't want MY meat burning.
See, and they also are not able to join the dots about nagging. Nagging is having to repeat yourself endlessly. They don't seem to get that when you ask them to hang the towel up it is for the rest of their lives. You have to ask every day - hence the nagging. If he asks me to do something in particular, I do it and continue to do it. He only had to ask me once to remember to lock the garage when I got my car out, and I've done it ever since. THEY require a gilt-edged invitation for every practical act of housekeeping. The nagging would be much less if they did things straight away too.
It's a man thing!! Never put off until tomorrow what you can put off indefinitely! They are hard-wired differently.
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