The power of words

I overheard a discussion this morning which made me so angry I could have screamed.  Two guys were talking and one of them was explaining to the other that his "woman" was ugly, fat and "old" but she had money and she was so grateful to have him that she paid for everything.

At that point, my day was already a Monday--we got a lot of snow last night and the roads were only semi-cleared, I had a headache ibuprofen wasn't helping, a co-worker putting on her martyr suit and close to 300 approvals and publications to do plus my usual work.  I really really wanted to take a minute to tell this jerk he was no prize himself and if he was lucky, the woman in question would kick him to the curb while he was still young enough to change, but I refrained.

The rest of my day was similar, but it was saved in the last ten minutes.  An attorney I like and admire came in, and while we were talking, he asked if I parked at Morley Health Center.  When I said yes, he said "Then you know it's such a mess that someone posted a sign saying Welcome to Lake Morley."  I said, "Oh my gosh, that was ME!" and the attorney laughed his big, infectious laugh and we talked about it for a bit.  I was excited at the time when other people contributed to the sign, but to find out that someone remembered it nine months later was such a rush that my day really ended on a high note.

I love making people laugh, and I love being appreciated. :-)

It's all about the details

I don't have the budget or the spoons to do a whole steampunk room, but I've decided I want my kitchen to have some copper touches that could lend themselves to steampunkery if I ever have the funds.  I ordered light oak outlet covers for the lower outlets which are located in the wainscoting and copper switch plates and outlet covers for the higher outlets and switches.  I think they look lovely against the green walls!

And Sherri probably doesn't recognize the microwave cart any more, it was such a mess when she was here!

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K Casa de Jammies

Monday through Thursday of last week, painters came to Casa de Jammies, and Little Miss Piggie Pie day boarded at a local vet hospital/kennel.  The staff there said "She's really a sweet girl" and I didn't get a bill because she ate someone's Bichon, so she must have behaved.

The kitchen and back hallway have had the 1970s wallpaper removed (hears distant cheers from South Carolina) and painted, the kitchen in what was supposed to be sage green but is in fact more mint green and the back hallway in a barely-tinted cream.

The painters were good painters, but lousy guests.  One of them kept leaving the toilet seat up, they used up all of my good hand soap, half a roll of paper towels and two rolls of toilet paper and left me with a nearly full gallon bucket of mint-not-sage paint.

This past Thursday night, Mom and Dad came over and helped me pull up the carpet in the eating area, revealing some awful linoleum.  It looks like raw meat.

When I brought out the shop vac to clean up the dust left behind, Dad said, "Oh, that's where it is.  I needed it last week."  I didn't remind him he had left it unused in his garage so long a mouse built a nest in it, just told him that if he wanted, I'd bring it back, but I'd cry real tears.

For the first time ever, I had professional cleaners come to the house.  A team of sisters Mom knows from her law practice worked from ten until two cleaning the kitchen and bathroom while I removed the staples and the tack strips from the NY strip floor.  Both women were friendly as well as being very good at cleaning, and I enjoyed having them here as much as I enjoyed the clean house they left behind.

While I was pulling up staples and tack strips, I came to the very sad conclusion that the hardwood floor in the eating area was pulled up to make room for the Porterhouse lino.  I've already picked a pretty brown carpet for the living room and now I need to consult with the guy at the carpet store about what kind of floor is best for homes with dogs.

Speaking of dogs, LMPP was excitable but not bite-y with Mom and Dad, but growly and snarly with the cleaning team, so she spent five hours outside, allowed in to warm up whenever I took a smoke break.

Today I get to rest from yesterday.

The schedule for the coming week is Sunday, grocery shopping and laundry, Monday work with Mom, lunch with Mom, shopping with Mom, and Tuesday through Friday, bring one piece of kitchen furniture out of the living room, clean it and put it back.

In the Living Years

I've been thinking about my dad a lot this week.

He taught me to use the internet, which I used to look up the correct tire pressure for my car.

I used the 12-volt compressor he gave me to inflate my tires to the proper pressure.

I saw someone stick an arm out of the driver's-side window and squirt their windshield with Windex, something my dad had to do a few times on his Oldsmobile.

And my friend Jay posted the two songs which make him think of his dad, who he lost 24 years ago.

My dad frequently makes me crazy, but I love him, and I listen to him and I learn from him, and I have told him so and will tell him so.

In 1989, I bought the cassette single of this song for Dad for Father's Day, and he really liked it, so here it is once more for him:

Spirit, spoons and shortness

The day after Christmas last year, I bought 150 plastic ornaments with the intention of decorating the two evergreens outside my breezeway.  This year, I dawdled and procrastinated until December 21, when I finally bought ornament hangers and got out in cold and damp and decorated.

I ran out of spoons before I ran out of ornaments, and I knew that climbing up on a ladder at that point was A Bad Idea, so I put everything away.  I took today off work, so this morning after a quick grocery run, I got the ladder out.

Guess what?  Even with a 7-foot ladder, I'm too short to reach the top of the taller tree.  I've got blisters because I'm allergic to evergreens, sore shoulders from reaching over my head, and the decorations aren't quite perfect, but I'm still pleased.

I decorated something for Christmas for probably the first time in seven or eight years!

The year is ending nicely

Well, mostly.  I think I've burned out on Bubbles & Baubles, but at lease what may be my last post there is one that makes me happy.  I enjoyed making up the polish bags, and I'm pleased to have gotten rid of a tiny portion of my ridiculous polish stash.

The probate court has adopted a family for Christmas, and I got to go shopping for a 4 year-old girl.  I found some pants, a cute sweater and a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt and pants set, and then found the winter coat I've been wanting for two years.  Instant karma!

The courthouse café sends postcard with a coupon every month to the folks on their mailing list, and for December, my coupon was buy one sandwich get one free.  Instead of tossing it, I took it down when I bought my lunch on Thursday, and told the cashier to use the free sandwich for the next person to get one.  That happened as I was waiting for my sandwich, and it turns out that I bought lunch for one of the domestic court judges. :-)  Then I went out and bought a couch from a local business. :-D

Yesterday wasn't very pleasant, because instead of doing my work, I was docketing extensions filed by idiots who didn't get their filings done in time and don't want to be cited.  But we got raises for next year, and the day eventually ended.

Today I was at Mom's, aka the second job, and in addition to my usual boring paperwork, I got to make gingerbread cookies and cut out ninja shapes for my nephew to decorate.  I even figured out how to work the convection oven by myself!

My brother, sister-in-law and nephews will be here for Christmas, I have the 23rd through the 25th off and the last of my presents are scheduled to arrive on Monday.  The house is warm, the dog is getting fat, and all is well.

Love to all of you who took the time to read this--you're what Vio calls "Friends as Family" and you're a big part of why I'm content.

Snobservations from a VERY long week

Before I start snobserving, if you don't follow me on Google Plus, you might not know that my boss was on the front page of the paper on Thursday, or that my workplace will be featured in a documentary.

That leads me to my first snobservation, that it used to be 15 minutes of fame.  Now, apparently, at least for buildings, it's only 6 minutes. :-(

It was a very long week, in part because Tuesday was Call Day, in which m colleagues and I are frantically busy but don't actually get a ton of work done, and partly because of the looming departure of one of said co-workers.

To the attorney who was upset with me for sending back an insufficiently documented Inventory, I say, "Mister, you can tell me that house is worth a cow and a sackful of magic beans, but if it's not in writing, I can't docket it."

To all of the attorneys who say that's not how they do it in [insert name of other county here], I say, "That's how we do it here, and that's why you should read the damn local rules before you try to file in a new-to-you county."

To the attorneys who ask about the rules of service and wonder when we started doing that, I say, "It's been almost a year, and you should read the damn local rules before you try to file in a court where you haven't practiced in a year."

To paralegals who call me asking how to do something, I say, "Ask your boss, she's the lawyer!"

And to the snooty-ass OSBA-certified paralegal who types things like, "Your welcome" I say, "My welcome says you need to brush up on your basic grammar."

Hmmm

My city has decided to go with fabric recycling.  On the one hand, I am delighted to have an outlet for the pillows which are too manky to give to Goodwill, along with single socks and bras which have quit fighting the good fight.  On the other hand, it's a for-profit company called Simple Recycling doing this, and I don't know how many of my fellow citizens will go to their website and read the details.  

I hope that some, if not all, will, and that Goodwill, the Salvation Army and other charitable organizations will not be hurt.  I know that the scam drop-boxes have cut into donations to those same organizations.  And yes, the drop-boxes for used clothing are almost completely for-profit despite the misleading labeling. 

The one that ticks me off the most, of course, is the book "recycling" boxes.  When I saw a box in the local shopping center, I almost plowed into it with the car when I recognized the name of an online "store" from which I had purchased used books.  I still have not completely discarded the idea of tacking up a sign reading "THESE PEOPLE SELL BOOKS.  YOU'RE NOT DONATING TO ANYTHING BUT THEIR BOTTOM LINE."

I guess in regard to the fabrics, I will give the city the aforementioned manky pillows and donate clothes to Goodwill, but if you're reading this, please, please investigate before you give anything to anyone.  These days, almost anything can be turned for a profit, and that's fine if you know that's what's going to happen.  If that's not what you want, find a reputable charity which will take it.

A matter of taste

So yes, after at least five years of wanting to, this was the year I did this:

When the kits to turn your car into a reindeer first came out, they were at least $30 or so, and I passed.  But last Saturday I was at a local discount store and found this particular set for $3, so of course I grabbed it!

So I posted a picture on G+, and my buddy Rob commented to the effect that he thought I had better taste than to do this.*

Guess what, Rob?  I don't have better taste, I just have iron control over my terrible taste.  The louder, flashier, shinier, gaudier and more ridiculous it is, the better I like it.  But since I'm not going to get very far at work looking like a drag queen exploded in my closet, I pull back.

Way back.

And because I don't have the budget to light up a ghastly fantasy of outdoor lighting in garish colors every year, I skip it.

But the truth is that I have terrible, terrible taste, and for now, antlers on my car.

*The sister of my heart, the lovely Vio, commented that I needed a speaker which played "Gramma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" as I drove.

A long and winding update

Life at Casa de Jammies has been interesting since the end of September.  It's election season and my boss is running this year, so there have been some volunteer things, but there has also been a slew of replacement appliances both small and large.

First up was the coffee maker.  The old one was one of my parents' old coffee makers which had been replaced when they did an upgrade.  That one died early this year, and I used a 4-cup freebie one I'd gotten years ago from Gevalia while I fiddled around and researched and generally put off buying one.  I did have fun reading online reviews which included comments about how some coffee makers "let too much sentiment into the carafe" but it wasn't until mid-September that I finally made up my mind and got a Technivorm MoccaMaster.  It is worth every single penny.  It's quiet, quick, energy-efficient, makes great coffee and I don't even care that it isn't programmable.  You also get to watch the bubbles as the water boils for the coffee!

Next up was the water heater, which was more than 15 years old, and then a new dishwasher, which was just installed today.  The dishwasher was actually delivered a week ago, but the Home Depot installers wouldn't do anything because the water shutoff was in the basement.  I hired an actual plumber and it turned out to be a bigger job than either of us anticipated.  He was here for over three hours, but it's working now and it's lovely.  As a bonus, because he had to turn off the breaker for the back half of the house, I got the guest bedroom neatened up and all the houseplants into the garage because I wasn't sitting in front of the computer.

When the plumber was done today, he asked what I wanted to do with the old dishwasher.  I asked him to take it to the curb, and he expressed a little concern about whether the city would take it.  I told him that if I had to, I'd call for a special pickup and pay for it, but I was pretty sure a picker would find it before Monday.

After he left, I brushed my teeth, tossed the dog in the basement and ran out to do my grocery shopping.  I was on my way in less than 10 minutes, but my driveway was blocked by a giant pickup truck whose driver had just chucked the old dishwasher in the bed.  I told him he'd never back out of my driveway, but if he pulled into the turnaround I could get past him and then he could get turned around and out.  He said thank you and "I just had to have the dishwasher" which made me grin.

So all is well and warm at Casa de Jammies, and I have had more baths in the last 10 days than I think I had in the 10 months prior!

Sometimes I forget...

that MS is a killer.  Then I go to the calling hours of a man only three years my senior, who only in the last few years has re-connected with his grown sons and met his grandchildren, and I remember.

I have been so lucky that MS has only lightly touched me, and overall has not diminished my quality of life.  But the flip side of that coin is that I have a responsibility to be mindful of my luck.  I don't always know what is right, but I know that I can always try harder.

So as I wish healing to the family of a man too young to die, I resolve once more to think about who I am and how I treat others.

SRK is not nearly as fun as MFK*

But I still need to make a dent in the drifts of paper claiming all the flat surfaces in my house, so I sit here quietly, sorting everything into piles of Shred, Recycle or Keep.

Growing up is severely over-rated.

*MFK

I am mercifully NOT currently perched on Rex's Erection with a water gun in my hand

Mercifully because after three days of "Do this.  No, we don't like this.  Do that.  Ha!  Fooled you--do that, but someplace else" from the miserable troglodytes at Express Scripts, I finally have my Lexapro refill.

Ever since Tuesday, when my nurse practitioner called in a new script to my local grocery store pharmacy, Express Shits has turned down the script twice, not told me until I called them, and then given me directions that turned out also not to work.  Everyone I had face-to-face interactions with was so very nice that I couldn't vent my rage, which just made it harder to cope.

Finally, after a second pharmacy was called and was willing to call the first pharmacy to transfer the prescription (since it had been e-mailed in, not faxed or written on paper) and I'd spent most of my breaks and lunches on hold, I got my Lexapro.  Of course, I had to wait for nearly 45 minutes at the second pharmacy because Express Shits kept asking for more info that they didn't have, but I got it.  I no longer feel like a donkey on the edge, and I am no longer tempted to climb a tower with a Super-Soaker in my hand.

Oh, and stop that, you dirty-minded people, I'm talking about a local landmark. :P

In which your humble correspondent is appalled and distressed

Dear Mr. Mann,

Whilst I understand both your modern need to be inclusive and your desire to keep your readers guessing, the inestimable Mr. S. Holmes would never so mangle the Queen's English as to use a plural pronoun with singular verbs and to do so for several paragraphs.  Frankly, I am shocked at this lapse in an otherwise excellent series.  For shame, sir, for shame.

Very Truly Yours,

Jammies

P.S.  Torturing the language to make it gender-neutral only makes it very clear to the reader that the villain is, in fact, the female character.

Yours, etc.

I'm inclined to say it was ducky.

Both of my nieces and the younger of my nephews are visiting my parents this week, and yesterday I took the day off work and Mom and the kids and I headed to Pittsburgh for the day.  Our drive was largely uneventful, barring a wee bit of a spat towards the end where Mom listened to the end of the directions rather than the whole thing and missed the middle bit, we were parked across the street from Station Square at 11:00 a.m.

We walked through the square and the kids looked at the river for a bit, then walked all the way down it, out the other side and across the street to the Monongahela Incline.  I'd ridden the Dusquene incline in my childhood, but not this one.  Mom of course, had ridden both as a Pittsburgh native.  Super Doughnut was a little nervous for some reason, but everyone enjoyed the ride to the top and the view from Mount Washington.  Then we had a discussion of which three rivers meet in Pittsburgh which ended with me asking the fare-taker if the third was the Allegheny or the Susquehanna.  For the record, the rivers are the Ohio, the Monongahela and the Allegheny.  Then we rode back down, had a nice lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe and then lined up for our tour.

The weather was absolutely perfect--warm and sunny but with a nice breeze.  We had an interesting and loud tour through the city, then hit the water.  Literally hit the water, because we took a Just Ducky amphibious tour!  For me, being on the water was the best part, water-loving critter that I am.  I think it was also my niece's best part, because she was one of the kids asked to steer the boat while the guide took a break and the captain talked.  Because she had purple rhinestones on her t-shirt, the captain called her "Captain Sparkle".

After the tour, we walked through the old train station which is now a fancy restaurant, and I forgot to ask Mom if it was still a station when she was a kid.  After some more not-fun with the GPS, we made it back to Mom and Dad's and then I headed home.

By some twist of luck, the first Just Ducky video I found features the same guide we had yesterday, so here's Carol:

Ahh, a nice big thunderstorm!

Nothing like one of those for scouring all the allergens out of my life!

My nose is trying to kill me, my nieces are here and my dad is giving me advice

Ah, yes, another horrible allergy attack.  AND payroll taxes.  yay.

But my brother brought the girls in to stay for a week at my parents' house before going to the lake and we had a nice lunch in Cleveland.

I've had an ungodly amount of antihistamines, but my dad told me to lay off.  Hah.  This from the man who pops ibuprofen like candy.

Hey, did you know wombats poop cubes?

Multiculturism at its best

...was what middle liddle brother said when I told him that I, an American female of mostly British descent and a German last name, was celebrating a French holiday with a day off and a Greek sandwich. :-)

Yesterday was my birthday, but since I'm *gasp* aging, I've decided to celebrate Bastille Day instead.  I did my nails up all fancy, and I got lots of neat presents from The Jay and The Sherri, and Mom and I went shopping.  I found five big grapefruit-scented candles for $1 each, plus birthday presents for my nieces, plus four new tops for me.  Then we went and had lunch at a local chain, and I had a wonderful gyro, followed by coming home to take a nap, and then getting up to feed the dog, eat dinner and make two loaves of dill bread to take to work.  Then I returned middle liddle brother's phone call and then called Mom and Dad picked up to say Happy Birthday Bastille Day.   Plus, Mira Grant's newest Rising short story was released, so I downloaded that.

Good food, presents, books, family and friends--what a perfect day!

Oh, and the dog didn't leave me any dead mice as presents, either. ;-)

Tears at 5 a.m.

Last night, I dreamt that Little Miss Piggie Pie had to go into the vet for something that would take all day and when I dropped her off, the staff asked if I wanted a loaner dog.  I said yes, and a tech came out with my beloved Bigfoot.  I spent a wonderful day with him, and when the vet hospital called to tell me LMPP was ready to be picked up, I said, "You know you're not getting Bigfoot back, right?"  The person on the phone said that was fine, it would only cost me a $45 adoption fee to keep him.

So I went and got LMPP and introduced her to Bigfoot, and had two wonderful dogs and you know how this is going to end, right?

And then I woke up.  And it SUCKED.  And I cried.

I am Jammies, hear me roar!

...or at least, hear me not whimpering like an abandoned puppy. I dealt with a hornets' nest over the back door to the breezeway all by myself last night, and today I took my shovel and flicked it off the siding in one swing.

Plus, lots of people at work loved the lemon pound cake I made for our triple baby shower yesterday.  Yup, three of my co-workers are spawning.  Thankfully, they are due in successive months and each works in a different area of the court, so the need for training and temporary replacements is not as difficult as it could have been.

My butterfly bushes are not completely lost--the branches are all dead, but new growth is sprouting at the base of several of them.  The miniature roses are goners, though. :-(

All in all, life continues at Casa de Jammies in a mostly serene fashion, except when Rooter ventures into the front yard and Little Miss Piggie Pie barks herself hoarse.