Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Oh, whar is my fainting couch?

We are supposed to get more snow here tonight.  Third time in a WEEK.  OH, sure, it snows one day and is melted the next, but OH!  Dreadful.
I only half overstate, as it snowed all day yesterday, started really piling up to a massive 2 inches or so.  Funny, but the flakes kept coming but the totals never went as high as it looked like it was supposed to be.  No matter, as the runoff from the roof this morning when temps got back above freezing was pretty impressive.  When I went out for supplies this afternoon it was a chilly 43F, so keep us in your prayers.
It's supposed to snow again tonight.  Between 4 and a million inches.  Forecasts vary, as do enthusiasms.  Kids were out of school nearly all last week, have been out this week, and will likely not return until April, when all threat of snow in the Rockies (the lower elevations) has passed.
We entertain ourselves here as best we can, between storms.  Life can throw some curveballs, but if we can get to the McDonald's for Mint Mocha Chip Frappes at least once a week then everything is OK in our book.
Boy, sure hope this winter is over soon.  I almost had to wear gloves today.

Tiff out.


PS - This was originally (2 minutes ago) sent to my family as an overall update of what's going on around the NC regions, and I liked it enough to share with you, mostly people to whom I an NOT, in fact, related.

Everything about this post except the MMCF's at McD's is true.

Friday, February 20, 2015

It's always something


If it's not one thing, it's another.

If it's not needing a new water heater, it's having to re-side the house.

If it's not being snowed in, it's needing to prop up the entire house's foundation.

If it's not chocolate, it's pralines and cream.

You heard me!

We need a new water heater, a sump system to ensure the crawlspace doesn't flood (AGAIN!  WHO KNEW?!?), new pilings to shore up the 'overspanned' floor joists, and, well, pretty much an entire new sill girder thing that apparently holds up the entire house.

Oh, it's just that thet house might fall in, someday, is all.  No bigs.

Silly me for being concerned about that bouncy floor.  It made all those contractors poke around in our crawlspace and find things they should have just not looked at.  I mean, I KNEW the floors weren't level, but the house is 114 years old, so some amount of sagging was expected.

Our house is super-good at sagging, it appears.

SoooOOOooo, sometime in the not-too-distant future we shall be purchasing a firm set of undergarments for the Tiny House, and she shall be perky as a moderately middle aged lady once more.

All it's going to take is time, and multiple thousands of dollars.

Good thing we have the time.  Have to work on the money angle.

Send help.

Tiff out.

Monday, February 16, 2015

'Stash it!

To-day, because there was a Big Storm headed our way and I was working at home (WAH!), I took my usual lunch break to go run a few errands before all Hades broke loose and we were covered in 10 feet of snow up to our necks and armpits.

Or, the 2 inches of predicted snow fell, along with a nice coating of freezing rain and sleet.

It's the South, y'all.  We can get worked up over much MUCH less winter weather.

So, I toodled up to the gas station to get myself some gas, but instead of just pumping at the pump like one does in this day and age,  I wanted to get maybe a little cash so went indoors to use the debit portion of my card, thinking that 20 bucks in hand for a meteorological Armageddon would be a good idea.

No, I don't know why.


I swiped my card, clicked in my PIN, realized that the gas station don't give OUT no cash back y'all, stashed my card, signed the pad, and went to pump my gas.

And realized that on the 30-foot walk from the register to my car, I'd lost the card.

The card I pay for EVERYTHING with.  The card for which I'd just punched in the PIN, in full view of more than one person because I just wasn't being that careful about the full body shield and such.

That card was GONE.  Not in the regular par of my wallet, not in the other parts of my wallet, not in the OTHER parts of my purse, not in my jacket pockets, not in the car.  It. Was. GONE.

I walked the route twice, hoping to see it, very gratified when a lovely woman in a sharp blue SUV asked me with great concern in her voice if I needed help looking for something.  No, I needed no help, it would be tough to miss a card the color of mine in the short distance from pump to front door.

I figure I was in for a call to the bank.  Report in a possibly stolen card.  Bonus points: the bank is closed for President's Day.  So, yeah, whoever now has my card might have an extra day to purchase things from my account.  I could see the dollars flying past, me grabbing futilely at them while some dark menace sucked them away into its gawping greedy maw.  MY MONEY!

Well, I had one more stop to make, and another way to pay for that purchase, and determined that the first order of business once I got home would be to call the bank's service line and hope they could help me.  As I sat down in Carl (our new van!), something poked my hip.  It made an owie, and I hoped for a moment it wasn't a scorpion or assassin's poison dart.  Knowing, of course, that that owie was more likely something more mundane, I reached to my hip and discovered that....

My pants have pockets and this is where I put the card.

Pants have pockets!  The pants I am wearing today have pockets!  In which I had put my card!

Happy days are here again!!

I, therefore, could stop being suspicious of the guy behind me in line who I was working up to being SURE was a pro pickpocket, could stop fussing mentally about the hassle of having to procure another card and in the meantime having to deal with the bank and alternate methods of payments, could rest easy knowing that full of the fact that I am a dumbass and forgot my pants have pockets, sometimes.

Just another day in the life...

Tiff out.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Small blessings, a passing thought.

One day, not but a few years ago, when we were members of the local YMCA, the boys are I were swimming during 'free swim' time.

No big, we were horsing around, me swirling them around, racing them in the shallow water, tossing them and joking around.

It was lovely.

We had fun.

Sometime during that time, a woman came up to me, goggles on and breathless, and said: I love how you play with your kids.  That made me happy.

And I thought - OK.  Are we that special?

Well, maybe we are, and have been.  Special, lucky, tactile, loving, it doesn't matter.  What matters is that when my boys were beyond little children age, they played with me and I with them, as we had always done.

Maybe this is all hand's-on needs to be.  Just playing around.

Take time to play with your kids.  Treat them like you would want to be treated.  Live with them, and their bodies and their spectacular brains, for as long as you can.

Because romps in the pool with your kids come with an expiration date.

And then?  More fun, if you shift the rear-view mirror and adjust your shades.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

But of course, don't you?

Thing 1 is into the cosplay thing.

I wholeheartedly support this course of action.  It's a creative use of time that involves planning, execution of an idea, effort, and creativity.

To that end, I encased his face in plaster of Paris tonight, and made him lie still for 20 minutes, on order to cast his gorgeous face for a mask.

If only I could make Wern do the same!

As it was our inaugural outing with such shenanigans, I had no high hopes for the final outcome, but let me say: those three instructional sites I read and the research, however penurious, that we did, resulted in a semi-successful outcome.

To wit: there is now a likeness of his face resting on our mantel, drying.

A Mother's love, right there.

The mask will, in time, be turned into (I think) a skull mask, but that is up to himself.  I just know I had fun plastering plaster-of-paris-infused webbing all over his face and watching him have to sit still for 20 minutes.

Oh, if only this had worked when he was a toddler.

-Tiff out.