I can be pretty stupid for a smart person

I have never claimed to be a whiz when it comes to household finances. I generally get bills, put them in a stack on a flat surface, and hope that said flat surface doesn't get completely covered up before I remember to pay the bill. With the occasional exceptions, my failure to pay a bill has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with how much money I have available. I admit that my process has flaws.

The ability to see and pay bills online, over the telephone, auto pay, etc. has been helpful. However, I hit a stretch where I had to turn off the auto pay because the timing just wasn't working for me.

My furnace died the coldest week of the admittedly mild winter. It took several days for the repair folks to identify and attempt to repair the problem. Then they figured out that a new furnace was needed. The crawl space in my home is so small, that they actually had to dig out a larger area to squeeze the new furnace through to the very small area that opens up. My sister called me a lamer for not going down to look and see if it was just the pilot light, but the guy who came to work on it said it was about the worse crawl space he had ever seen.

Fast forward to Spring and the first warmish weather we have had. Of course, the A/C goes out. I also get an extremely high gas bill and decide it is time to finally tell my landlord that the water heater also needs work due to a leak. I noticed the leak about the same time as the furnace, and just didn't have the heart to tell her. She doesn't do rental property for a living, but used to live in this house and is hoping to get a better return on her investment than she would have when she got married and moved out.

The next night I prepare for my nightly bath ritual. Take meds, warm bath, read in bed, hopefully fall asleep at a reasonable time. This has been my routine for longer than I can remember. I'm letting the water run to warm while I brush my teeth...and....nothing remotely warmish is coming out of the tap. I start an email to my landlord to tel her that the water heater is now a higher priority than the A/C.

Thankfully, before I hit "send," I have a thought. My extremely high gas bill. I go find it in my stack of papers and while I had been correct about the due date of April 4th, I had failed to notice that it was a bill for 2 months...with a notice that my gas *could* be shut off as of That.very.day. Crap! I know it is my fault, but I curse the gas company for writing the note about potential cutoff in the corner with type the same size as everything else. I wonder why I didn't get one of those brightly colored postcards telling me to get my shit together. (I know they used to send them, I have gotten more than 3 in my life.) I curse the fact that my abysmal credit rating (which may or may not be related to my marriage or divorce) forced me to be on a pre-pay plan that does not cut me very much slack.

I am then grateful that I have the money to pay the bill. I jump online and do this immediately. I am grateful that I have a sister 0.5 miles away who will let me use her facilities and not mock me for my stupidity. I call the Customer Service department with my payment confirmation number in hand...only to jump through the series of "press this for that" and end up being told that they aren't open that late. I wash my face and go to bed.

So, the A/C is fixed...and it didn't cost my landlord anything...that's a good thing. They came out and turned on the gas today, so I only had to bathe at my sister's house for 2 days. Also, I should have a higher functioning or new water heater by tomorrow when someone comes to look at it...and if I'm lucky, that will leave me able to take a bath as hot as I wish, rather than really, really close to how hot I want it.

So, how have your appliances been treating you?

My teenage daughter ran away, my fine young son has turned out gay*

So, my morning was less than stellar. Actually, let's back up to last night, which was the third night in a row that my daughter did not sleep. As in, she said she didn't sleep all night long, and I have no evidence to contradict and plenty to support. Since no sleep means that she will be slightly more fragile (see yesterday's meltdown during the game of SmartAss), I kept her home from school today, which means some strategic planning. Fortunately, I still have a wife around the corner from me, since Margaret is kind enough to function in that role until she gets a better paying gig. There was always the chance that she would slam the door in my face, though. Unlikely, but possible.

And this morning didn't improve when I woke up 5 minutes after Dude was supposed to be at school. Eight minutes before the tardy, but no way were we getting there on time. As I was rousting the troops, I managed to drop a glass in Dude's room; shards of cobalt blue across his wood floor. Cleaning up, I cut my foot.

I won't mention that I did have to take several potty trips as this was going on, because that might be TMI.

I couldn't find my phone OR my car keys, so I took the second spare set. My co-blogger has the first spare set, but I might have to rethink this. We got halfway to school when The Dude speaks up.

"Mom? You didn't give me any breakfast this morning!"

And while I know that it is the most important meal of the day, I was going to make him suck it up and deal with the gnawing hunger, until I remembered that when I give him his food, I also give him his Adderall. It's just not fair to him or the school to send him without it. I pulled a 180. . .well, a 47-point turn; remember, I drive a minivan. Back home to get breakfast and medicine.

Once at home, I realize that the housekeys on that second set do not fit my door. I yank Dude out of the van and make him climb in the window to his room, which is about 5 feet off the ground, both inside and out. He unlocked the door and found my keys. Why he couldn't have done that before we left the first time, I do not know. Worthless kid.

At that point, I called the office and told them I was going to be late. My actual words were "I don't think you would believe me if I described my morning."  If you can't be at work on time, be entertaining. That's my motto, at least.

I did have to walk Dude into school & sign him in, all the while listening to him mutter about how much trouble he is going to be in for being tardy. I'm thinking, Dude. You are in the second grade. This is maybe your 3rd tardy of the year.  No one is going to bat an eye. The wise woman said nothing, as she was happy that Dude cares if he's late or not.

I got to the Cistern's house, and threw myself on her mercy. Fortunately, she was still half asleep & didn't really understand what I was saying until after I drove away, which was too late for her to do anything about it.

I only had one near-miss MVA, which is about par for my 6 mile drive to work. But I did notice that the pants I pulled out of the dryer this morning had a grease splotch that didn't come out in the wash. That was okay, though, because I had on my scrub jacket. (That right there is called foreshadowing, for those of you playing along at home.) When I did get to work, I sat in the parking lot for a couple of minutes taking deep breaths. Work is stressful these days, and even when it is not (if there is such a time), I need to leave home stress at home and work stress at work.

I got to work and was working away, whistling like a good dwarf, finding the spoonful of sugar, blah blah blah. I was looking at someone's chart, put it back in file and left the chart room. The pocket of my scrub jacket tried to stay behind. Big gaping seam rip.

So do I safety pin the jacket and hide the grease, or do I take off the jacket and let the greasy food splotch show? (Answer: some of each.)

After that, it calmed down a bit. Until I got the phone call from Dude's school that he'd been in a small kerfluffle with another boy. Said other boy now has goose egg on back of his head. Stories vary. This is a blog post of its own, but the bottom line is that tomorrow morning, my wife gets to keep another child. The sitter is coming noonish.

The last thing that happened was that as I pulled up to the house I noticed that Dude's window was still open. That means three things: Fertile Cat has been going in and out of the window. (Don't hate. I have made two appointments to get her uterus ripped out, but she has some kind of skin disorder going on, and she never goes outside, unless Dude's window is open.) Also that I have been trying to cool the world, since I just turned the AC on. And finally, since today was the Highest Pollen Count Ever, I now have pollen in my house.

I am looking forward to bedtime. Not just the kids' bedtime. My bedtime.

*The title does not describe my life, it's a hat-tip to my 80s roots. It could describe my life in a few years. Stay tuned.

Alphabet soup

I know memes are considered lazy to some, but I actually LIKE to read them. Only tagging my co-blogger, but please tell me in the comments if you decide to do it…or just pick one or two you want to answer…pr make fun of my answers…it’s all good.

A – An advantage you have – Being white, born in USA to parents who valued education (being a sassy redhead doesn’t hurt, either)

B – Bed size-King, though my current sleep mate is a cat and I only take up a small portion of the bed. However, when (IF) I have another bed companion the King becomes imperative as I like snuggling but CANNOT stand to sleep tangled up.

C – Chore you hate – Cleaning out the litter box. I particularly hate it when that bitchy, superior feline comes to watch me do it as if to underline the fact that I am cleaning up her shit.

D – Dad’s name – Poppa/Herbie/Do you want me to call the home?

E – Essential start of your day – Wash my face and have a coca-cola.

F – Favorite color – Purple. Yes, it is the favorite of tween girls, but I still claim it…and I don’t much like tween girls.

G– Gold or Silver--I’ve turned to a Silver person the past couple of years, but was gold for most of my life

H – Habit you have – Calling my Cistern a “Bitch” whenever possible to fit it into the conversation

I – Issue you consider important—This month it would have to be my outrage over conservatives marginalizing women and wanting “smaller government” but at the same time wanting far too much say about my vagina and wanting to tell me what SHOULD and SHOULD not happen there. I use birth control, have for 20+ years. I’m a slut, fine, whatever.

J – Job title –Bitch Goddess (pay is shitty, but it’s quite entertaining)

K – Kids—none that I birthed. Nieces 11 ½ and 3, Nephews 8 and 3. The oldest belong to the cistern, the twins belong to my brother.

L – Living arrangements – Renting a house that I hope to buy. It has a red door, a million windows, is a ½ mile from Cistern’s house, and I love, love love it!

M – Mustard or ketchup—both, but if I could only have one it would be mustard. I hate mayonnaise with few exceptions. It disgusts me that my sister puts it on hot dogs.

Nicknames – bitch, cistern, Maggie Moo

O – Overnight hospital stay – neck surgery (1 night), work-up for chest pain (2 nights) Family history of people dropping dead from cardiac issues got me more attention than I wanted, but I appreciate the concern.

P – Pet Peeve –people who use the last of something without replacing it or telling anyone, people who don’t follow the damned rules at a 4-way Stop—you are NOT doing me a favor if you don’t go when it is your fucking turn, typos in profiles on dating sites. Shut up! I’m single, I don’t do church or bars. Gimme a break.

Q – Quote that you like most – Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
--Emerson

R – Right or left handed – Right

S – Siblings – one sister, one brother. I’m the oldest, and managed not to kill either of them growing up. Miracle, but a good one. I love them both to pieces—but not in a leperous kind of way.

T – Time you wake up –the very last possible minute that allows me to get where I need to be. I like sleep. I lay out my clothes the night before in the precise order I will be putting them on my body. Fuck mornings.

U – Underwear—usually wear it, most of mine is cotton

V – Vegetable you dislike—I like most of them…oh yeah! Greens—mustard, collard, turnip—there have been a very few exceptions that I have found palatable.

W – What makes you run late – my love for sleep, being disorganized, getting ready too early and then checking “just one thing” online. Yeah, right.

X – X-rays you’ve had – ankle, chest, neck MRI-neck, neck, neck, CT-head (shut up again)

Y – Yummy food you make – I am an above average cook when I do it, but my best ever would likely be chocolate cake with butter cream icing. (No, I do not use a box. I’m amazed at how many people look confused when I say that.)

Z – Zoo animal—I have come to dislike seeing animals in zoos. I have a huge love for elephants and have collected them since I was a kid. Got a purple one tattooed on my ankle about a year ago. I did LOVE seeing the otters swimming, smiling, and doing laps at the aquarium in Monterey.

I love pretty things!

It's kinda pitiful that I forgot the original reference that led to Bryan and me calling each other "Cistern." I'm sure if I remembered that, I might forget something important like my own address. Just for the record..it is my baby Cistern's birthday today, so wish her a happy! I had a nearly finished post in the drafts, but then Molly tweeted this link to some brilliant artwork. My favorite of those is Red Riding Hood, but I love Alice in Wonderland and Rapunzel as well.

The artist for the above is Christian Jackson . That beautiful artwork led me to this site Which is a very, very dangerous website for me. They have a varied inventory of many artists with prints at reasonable prices. These are the other two that caught my eye...

Scarlet by Jill Denton

World Map by Michael Tompsett So, go look around and tell me...What catches your eye about a painting? Who do you love that isn't famous? Realism or Impressionism or something in between?

Competitive much?

Well, I'm glad that the cistern (singular) decided to chip in. Really. However, I didn't really know we were going to make this a She Said/She Said kinda deal. She DID give me permission to post first, and then she bitched about it. And, I called it that she was gonna complain about the "housekeeping." I would have given her "all access" if I had been given that option. Hell, I'l give her permission to edit my posts with her English Major red pen if she wishes. As soon as I figure out how to do it. I thought we were tight. I thought she could have come to me first. Oh well, I suppose airing laundry publicly is gonna be part of this whole endeavor--and now that I know, I will be ready. REAL POST It's interesting that the cistern said what she did. We come by our competitive natures honestly. Poppa instilled that in us early and often. We played board games as children. Parcheesi, checkers, backgammon, and we splurged on an Atari game system when we were able. Poppa denies it to this very day, but he bought new games, practiced them until he was proficient, and ONLY THEN did he allow the kids the opportunity to play against him. He acts as if this is blasphemy when we bring it up now, but none of us EVER saw a game wrapped in cellophane. Enough said. There was one particular evening when I was on a roll. Poppa and I were playing a game called Chase on Atari, and I was on a winning streak. It was a school night, and I was exhausted. I was BEGGING to go to bed. He was determined to keep playing until won. It didn't happen, and my step-mother finally told him to let me go to bed or she was calling Child Services (well, not that last part). I was in bed in that barely cognizant few moments just before slumber. He came into my room and kissed me on the cheek. The he whispered, "I let you win." I was jolted upright out of my near sleep, and yelled, "You did not!" He never LET us win anything in our lives, and I knew he had not started that night. One of his favorite games was "Harder or Faster." He would pin us on the ground and start softly patting our cheeks is a slow rhythm. That part was not so bad...then came the choice...we had to tell him to do it harder or speed up the pace. If we failed to choose, the result was HARDER & FASTER. This sounds far more abusive than it was, we actually asked to play on occasion...or maybe I just asked him to play the game with my little brother. PS-I realized as I typed that the graphics in video games today are better quality than what we could see on television when I was a kid. Now I am old. So, did you guys play board games as kids? Are you laid back when it comes to winning or losing, or are you out for blood?

Harrumph

Obviously, there is something terribly wrong here.

Error the first: my sister posted first. Which was fine, considering that she set the blog up & invited me to post and was all excited about it. Except she asked me to take a look at it when I am in the middle of finishing up my week of exhaustion, the week I have the kids. (Whatshisname has them on the other weeks, it's not like I have a deal with the goblin king or anything.)

Error the second: when Margaret invited me to post, she didn't give me any tweaking permissions. All I can do is post. So fine, I will post a rambley ramble, and then at some point over the weekend, I will force her to give me tweaking permissions so I can do things like add a blogroll, so everyone can tell that we are addicted to folks like The Bloggess and Mir. Yeah, (she said nonchalantly) we've met Mir. We went to Athens to see the play that makes my daughter Writhe! In! Horrified! Discomfort! when it is mentioned by title.

Let's see, everything else looks pretty okay. I like the background, but I agree with her, it would be better in purples or blues. She did change the name from Twisted Cisterns, after I pointed out to her that just as brethren is plural, so is cistern. She did it with pretty good grace.

We're going to have to do something about the contributors and profiles bit, too. Good thing I don't have anything else computer related going on this month. (Wait a minute. . .)

My Women

I’m not sure how I thought the introductory post to this blog might look, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. In fact, my co-author and sister just might not be thrilled that I started without her. However, she will get over it…because that is what we do. She has given me permission since I wrote that first part, but I think will now have to get over the minimal housekeeping I did before sharing.
As I looked at twitter and FB this morning, I saw multiple posts about International Day of Women. I started thinking about the women in my family.
I come from a matriarchy, in fact, my maternal Grandmother was often referred to as The Matriarch. She was a widowed mother to five daughters and one son. I remember hosting a brunch after my sister’s wedding and realizing that in a crowd of 40+ there were only 4 adult men to whom I was blood related. Of my thirteen cousins on that side—only four are male, and except for one, the males have older sisters.
All three of my Grandmothers outlived their husbands. I am told that I met my paternal Grandfather, but I don’t remember him. My parents divorced when I was 8. I was accustomed to seeing women functioning as solo heads of household.
There are certainly advantages and disadvantages to the way I grew up. However, today is about the gifts these women gave me.
Grandmother (not a single one of us ever mouthed a diminutive that stuck)--My maternal grandmother. She possessed a strong, Southern grace that I cannot begin to put into words. She was proper. She was a teacher. She also taught the grandchildren to make false teeth out of watermelon rind and told me a dirty joke even though she had to write the word “fuck” on a napkin and point to it instead of saying it.
Gammy—My “step” Grandmother She treated my siblings and me as if she had been present at our birth. She was boisterous, kind, generous, independent as hell (sometimes to the chagrin of her two sons). It is hard for me to remember her without a smile on her face.
Grandmother K—my paternal grandmother She is the source of my red hair. She was devoted to her three sons. She and her sister were the way I hope Bryan and I are when we reach that age. She played the piano beautifully, and instilled a love for music that has continued to touch even the great grandchildren she never met.
Joan—married my Poppa when I was 12 Feisty, Italian, 5’ even, but not to be messed with. Taught things about love that I didn’t comprehend until after she was gone. Somehow got stuck with teaching me to drive—and didn’t shriek once. Taught me that Poppa didn’t have to “know EVERYTHING.” Helped me to be a better step-mother to the twins during my brief marriage. Bravely battled breast cancer, even having radiation the day before (or morning of?) Bryan’s wedding. Best spaghetti with meatballs you ever would taste.
Mother—Divorced in 1973 when it really “wasn’t done.” I look like her when I am having a good day. She taught me to be responsible for my actions. She taught me that you can wear Reeboks to a formal event as long as you behave as if you meant to do it. She was creative and just by observing her, I learned things about sewing and painting and cooking that I didn’t even realize until after she was gone. She also taught me that if you are going to a pot luck and run out of time to prepare a dish—store bought potato salad can be passed off as an old family recipe as long as you put it in a nice bowl and add some paprika and parsley.
Bryan—my baby sister I don’t think I ever tried to smother her after they brought her home, but I really wanted to when I was 13 and she was 10. We have gotten over that, and she is my very best friend. When people ask me who my heroes are, she is the first to come to mind. She is strong, kind,and generous. She parents the hell out of my wonderful niece and nephew. She is funny as hell and writes like nobody’s business. Please read my posts even if hers are better. Pretty please?
These are just the bare bones of the women who had a hand in who I am today. Any strength, grace, wisdom, or wit I possess is due (at least in part) to them and many others…aunts, cousins, friends and sisters who just happened not to be blood relatives.
I’m not precisely sure what the official mission behind those who chose this to be International Day of Women was, but purposefully remembering those who have affected me and will continue to do so seemed like the right thing for me.
So, how about you? Who has had an impact on your life? What does this day mean to you?