Listen to the Little Man

I have a little man inside my head. He always has good advice. I don't always listen. I am trying to learn from this. For example: The other day I had our addition plans on the kitchen table. I was looking over them with Judith. When I saw them next they were under a pile of newspapers. The little man said I should move the plans otherwise they would be recycled with the papers. Really, as soon as I looked at them he said it: "you are going to recycle those by accident and you won't have them anymore so move them." So, I moved them, but not too far I guess. And I knew that too. I knew I should have put them somewhere not in the kitchen where the mail and the newspapers get recycled every day.They must have gotten mixed up in the papers the next morning because they are now gone.

The trash guys picked up paper recycling early this morning. I slept in. When I came downstairs I didn't think anything unusual was going on. Then the man started speaking to me again. And I immediately knew the plans were gone. "The addition plans got recycled today. I told you so," he taunted. We frantically searched every where possible. I called Judith to see if she recalled seeing them anywhere other than on the kitchen table. "No," she said. I called Clay Stanbaugh to see what the reality of recovering something mistakenly thrown in the recycling. The guy almost laughed at me. "No, sorry, that would be impossible, mumble the dump mumble, have a nice day," he said.

Frank and I couldn't remember the name of the architect although we're pretty sure we saw him walking on York Road in Towson soon after we realized the plans were missing. It's been five years since we saw the guy, so maybe it wasn't him. But we did both think it was him. I remembered then that there was some info in the file cabinet about the renovation plans and lo and behold, there is a preliminary plan and a phone number of the guy. Hopefully he still has copies. I tried calling the office but was hung up on each time. Not because of anything I said but the phone would ring and the answer would be the click of the callee hanging up.

The situation is not dire, it's only ink and paper after all. But damn it, what a hassle. So, the moral of the story is: Listen to the little man. He is there for a reason. He is there to keep your life running smooth. The only problem I find is that I never know if he's really right or not unless I d0n't listen to him. Then, things always go just like he said they would. And it's usually an unfavorable outcome. And whenever I don't listen, I can't help but to feel like George Costanza. And that's never a good feeling.

There's nothing on

Sometimes I fantasize about having nothing to do. I dream of being able to watch television all day without interruption (or without having to watch Sponge Bob).  I dream of being lost in a book for hours. And then, one day I get operated on. My kids go off in search of more fun than I can offer. Bella goes to the pool with the girls. Colson goes to the Jahries. Even Judith (my amazing mother-in-law who has come to take care of me) is busy with laundry and sheets (I know, your thinking how dare I even think about complaining). 

And so I sit on the couch to watch a little TV. I flip from channel to channel watching bits and pieces of DIY shows, nanny shows, etc. I pick up a magazine and flip through. I pick up a book and read a few pages. Nothing really seems to hold my interest though. 

What I'd really like to be doing is packing for the beach or cooking an awesome veggie burger. Or maybe even sitting pool side with the kids. Or going for a hike. Or walking without limping. But instead, I'm sitting with my leg up. I spend a few listless moments on the computer. I read a few pages. I stare blankly at the TV.

I guess forced relaxation really isn't relaxing at all. I just keep thinking of other things I could be doing. I've never really been good at relaxing anyway. Ask anyone who has ever been on vacation with me. I usually cook something then clean up then pack up something then move onto the next thing. I don't often just sit. Unless it's in a nice warm tub (which I can't do until the stitches come out) and then I can sit and read all night. I don't think it's an ADD thing. I can usually give a project my full attention. But when it comes to doing nothing - forget it. I'm like a 5 year old who just ate a Fun Dip. Now I know why my sister Sue was painting her basement after shoulder surgery. Because she needed to. I can't imagine where I'd be going all day if only I could drive. Well, that's not entirely true. I would have gone to Atwater's for lunch. I would go to Home Depot Expo and start picking out bathroom accessories. I would be looking at glass tile at a tile store. 

I guess I just not the kind of person who is meant to relax. I've been doing nothing for the last few days and it's getting a little depressing. Anyone want take me to Lowes? 

Why does it still hurt?

I guess I have pretty high expectations when it comes to healing. Either that or no patience at all. I am only 48 hours post-op and already I feel as though I should be up and walking around without pain. My knee hurts and I'm still taking pain meds. Getting around the house still requires both crutches. Why am I surprised. The last time I was operated on I was healing for at least a week on the crutches. I guess the doc had me thinking that since the operation was quicker and less invasive that my recovery was going to be so much easier. And really, it's not so bad. I just am not a very good patient. I don't like not being able to do for myself. I also don't like being quite so foggy all the time. The percs help relax me, but my sleep is not sound. I wake up very itchy too. 

I guess I should just enjoy the ride. I am very fortunate to have my mother-in-law here taking wonderful care of me. I don't know what I would have done without her. In fact, she's making us a lovely breakfast right now. I would also like to take a minute to thank my friends and family who have entertained my children the last few days: Jahries', Collins' and Gorman's thanks for the sleep-overs and taking the kids here and there on what sounds like awesome adventures. 

I am currently distracted by pain so I guess it's time for another pill. Oh, I really don't know what they found during surgery as I can't recall the conversation with the doctor. But, I gather that they cleaned up some cartilage. I'll know more after I see the doc this week to get the stitches taken out. Thanks for all the good wishes and offers of help.

Glad to pay those taxes

I was driving home last night from Virginia on Interstate 95. I was listening to a little country music and thinking about what to eat for dinner. I wasn't really paying too much attention the the condition of the road. I got onto 495 with no delays (imagine that!) and continued traveling homeward. Somewhere in my brain it must have registered that the roads were not in the best of shape; that the placement and number of signs was less than adequate; that the route was not as comfy as it could be. When I crossed over into Maryland I noticed a smoothness in the road. The lanes seemed wider and better lit. I felt more comfortable. Kind of like that episode of Seinfeld when Kramer paints the lane lines making the 4 lane highway a 3 laner.
The rest of the way on 495, through 95 and into 695 I noticed the roads were in great shape. How fortunate we are to have such a pleasant driving surface. Notice I didn't say pleasant driving experience because the traffic here sucks and no amount of smooth pavement makes that any more bearable. But I think I take for granted this asset and don't really give credit to our State Highway Administration. But hey, here goes, nice job SHA! (By the way, I used to think the SHA Garage signs on the side of the road had something to do with Iran - maybe where the Shah parked his car and I could never figure out why he would park here or need so many garages - but that was a long time ago).
I've always known that our roads were superior to those in PA but I'm wondering now if our roads are superior to all state's. Are we merely sandwiched between to poorly paved states. No, I don't think so. As I ponder this, I think of my trips north to New York and traveling in New Jersey. Those roads are horrible. I'm trying to remember what it's like down south and I do think we've got a leg up on North Carolina too.
So the next time you want to complain about the taxes we pay here in Maryland, take a drive in Virgina or PA and let me know how you feel.

Exciting Things are Happening

I have a feeling this week will bring lots of exciting things for me to share with you. I will be leaving home shortly to drive down to Virginia. I am working on America's Most Wanted at the FBI Training Facility at Quantico. Should be very cool.
Also, Friday I have my surgery to see what could possibly be causing all the pain in my knee. My hope is that it's an easy fix with a quick healing process. So stay tuned people.

What water?

Okay, so if you read my comments from my last post you will know that the leaky water jugs on the shelf were the cause of the garage leak. DUH!?! (Ben is not the only idiot in this family). Dave came over to investigate the interior basement wetness. He checked up in the ceiling, along the wall and thought perhaps there could be a tiny leak in the pipe to the shower. Maybe I could see how wet it is in a few days call him back if need be. Sure, then he looked at the dehumidifier. I told him the dehumidifier was in the spot where it was wet but I wasn't sure it was the culprit or not as the carpet was not wet. Also, Frank empties it a lot and would have noticed wet carpet and if it wasn't filling up he would have noticed. But, the problem did not occur in the tank of collected water. I took out the tank and still didn't see any holes or drip or wetness on the outside of any kind. The fullness monitor was working just fine. There was however a penny size spot of water under the unit. He felt under the dehumidifier and concluded that the problem was coming from the coolers. The unit was heating up way too much and the coolers were condensing rapidly causing the drip. So, two problems solved at a fraction of what I thought it would be. I'll buy a new dehumidifier this weekend and find a new place to store "survival" water.
Of course I still have very wet carpet padding to deal with. I would really like to take up all the carpet and put down tile with an area rug on top. That way, the 6th time we have water in our basement, cleanup will be easier and less expensive.

Wet and Not So Wonderful

Water - we can't survive without it. We're made of it. We love to play in it. But damn if it just pisses me off sometimes. For example, today I finally decided to tackle the mess that is the basement. I was going along at a pretty good clip - throwing away little crappy toys and organizing the keepers. I got a little brain storm about how to make Bella's room less cluttered by bringing her play kitchen down to the basement. I went over to the space I thought appropriate to size it up. As I knelt down on the carpet to hide the Fios cable my knee and my hands felt moisture. Shit! Not again. We have replaced our basement carpeting two times already because of water. Recently an overflowing toilet upstairs sent torrents of water onto the carpet resulting in hours of wet vacuuming and steam cleaning. And now this.
So, I thought I'd try to find the source of the wetness. At first I thought perhaps the cats had reverted to their pre-litter trained days. But there was no tell-tale odor, just a musty smell. I pulled back the carpet here and there and found the wetness to be contained to a small area butting up against the laundry room and bathroom walls. Of course, it must be coming from one of those places. But the laundry room floor was dry. So was the bathroom. Even the shower which had previously been the cause of one of the floods was bone dry. Hmmm.
Well, I thought I'd better get the rest of the toys organized if I was going to have to call in an expert so I went back to straightening. I took Bella's roller skates out to the garage. My brand new iron for work was on the floor and I noticed the box was soaked. Strange! So I looked at the surrounding garage floor to see water running down toward the driveway. SHIT! This water seems to be coming from the joining of the wall and floor behind some shelving.
Because of my knee, I'm afraid to move anything heavy (especially since I hurt it this morning just bending over to pick a weed out of the garden) so I can't even move the shelves to see where it's coming from. Since this wall is the exterior of the furnace room I thought maybe there was a leak in the hot water heater. But that floor is dry too. I'm at a loss!
I'm still hoping the water inside the basement is coming from the dehumidifier. I'm conducting a little experiment with that now. But the garage one has me completely stumped.
I called my neighbor Dave for some expert advice but he's not home yet. He'll know what to do. He's fixed a few of my plumbing problems in the past and I hope he can help me with this one too.
So, if anyone has any ideas or knows a good plumber let me know. Oh, gotta go, Dave's calling. I'll let you know what happens.

The Cat Came Back

I'd be so happy if cats could talk. How amazing to be able to understand what they are thinking. And wouldn't it be nice to know where they've been? Our female cat Tiger likes to roam. Her first vacation was a week and a half. One day she left the house after breakfast and she didn't return. I didn't become concerned until after a few days. Our first cat Jerry used to disappear for days at a time. So I knew it was just in some cat's nature to go off alone.
But after a week I became very worried. I would start and end each day whistling for her from the porch and back deck. I made posters with her photo and description on them and hung them on light poles in the area. I called the shelters and was going to stop in to check and see if she was there. I had pretty much given up on her when I got a text from Frank early one morning that Tiger was back!
I was so happy I even teared up a little. I could stop having visions of her lying dead in the road or trapped in a hot garage. She seemed fine although she did have a thorn in her nose and was a little thin. The kids were overjoyed of course. So we lavished attention on her for a few days and then went back to our normal life with two cats.
Last week we noticed she wasn't showing up in the morning for breakfast. Then we went away for the weekend and there was still no sign of her when we returned. This time I didn't go into lost cast mode though. No posters, no calls to shelters. I just figured we would wait and she'd show up.
And she did. She didn't seem skinny or hurt this time. Perhaps she has found another family who takes her in. Maybe she has a male kitty stashed somewhere and they hang out in the woods together for a few days. I don't know. And that is what really drives me crazy. I ask her all the time where she's been, who she's been with and all I ever get is a little "meow".
And throughout all of this Jerry (he looks just like the first one so we just named him Jerry too) has been the loyal, trusty cat. He comes home to check-in a few times a day. He sleeps inside the house, hangs out in the yard killing things and generally seems to like it here.
Sometimes I see the two cats rub noses and I wonder what they are whispering to each other. Is she telling her brother where she's been. Or maybe she's telling him she going to head off again for a few days.
Until I become Dr. Doolittle I guess I'll just have to wonder.

Yes...I am a Redneck!

So, have you ever driven an ATV? I did this weekend and I had a blast. We hiked up to Smithsburg for Frank's 25th (yes, he is that old) high school reunion. Scott "Big Money" Phillips invited us to his sister's farm where they keep their cattle and donkeys. We thought it would be fun for the kids to see the cows again and to see the new animals too. The farm is located over winding roads with dips and hills that make the stomach flip. Good times.
We arrived as Julie's (Scott's sister ) husband Dale was bring the ATV's out of the barn. I'll admit it - I was a little hesitant at first. Did they really think I was going to drive one of these? He asked who didn't know how to drive stick and of course mine was the only hand to go up (can you say "loser'?). So it was decision time - was I going to wuss out or go figure out how to drive one of these things. I stepped up and said I'll take the automatic (I think it's good to know your limitations).
Dale gave me a brief (less than 30 seconds) lesson in TV operation and said,"Go on, git." Alright, he didn't really say those exact words, but something like it. Bella hopped on behind me and held on for dear life - which was a good thing. I started off down the gravel lane pretty slowly. But, I began to build confidence and before I knew it I was driving pretty fast. We went carefully down hills and over the pasture sure to avoid the cow patties.
Soon we found ourselves at an impasse. There was a tree down in front of us and no where to go but back. The path was narrow, but a 5- point-turn later and we were back on our way through the mud. We did get a little stuck, so I threw it in High gear and floored it. Bella was a little grossed out when the mud and poo started flinging up on us, but she didn't mind too much.
We drove up the hill and parked for a while near the cows and donkeys. Dale knows many of the cows by name. Scott and Karen Phillips and their kids own four of them and they were trying to figure out who was who. Dale came along and named each one. They treat them a little like pets (until the slaughter that is). I think I may be buying my beef from them from now on though.
Bella was loving farm life as she trekked along the pasture. Until she put her filp-flopped foot in a huge cow pie. Her foot came out but her shoe didn't. Thankfully there was a hose near-by and we got the poo out from between her toes and off her shoe.
We hopped back on the ATV's and headed back to the barn and chilled for a little while as the youngsters (Colson included ) took turns driving the Gator (a golf cart on steroids). He had the biggest smile on his face. Frank and I then raced around the farm without the kids. I had a ball going as fast as I could. I charged the big hill and whipped around curves. The downhills slowed me a little but I got more confident the more I did it.
Needless to say I had an awesome time. I'm ready to buy a farm, some livestock and some ATV"s so I can survey my land. Of course that's easy to say from my cozy office in my suburban house with a grocery store and Starbucks less than 5 minutes away. But it is something to think about.

Whip Kicks are Out

I met with Dr. Waldman to discuss my knee on Wednesday. Although I have regained the ability to bend it and my mobility has improved, he thinks scoping it would be beneficial. I still have a dull pain almost constantly and when I move in certain ways (Like throwing a fake punch) I get a shooting horrible pain which feels like someone is stabbing my knee with a screwdriver. Yet, I still wasn't sure that surgery was a sure thing. So I thought I'd do a little experiment. What if I were to go back to working out? I didn't think running would be good, but some sort of exercise to see what it would feel like. I have suspected all along that swimming the breaststroke was the culprit to my knee woes - what if I took a swim? Would it hurt and if so, there's my answer.
So I hopped in the pool yesterday and swam a quarter mile. I alternated between free-style and breast stroke. And don't you know it - that darned whip kick hurt, not bad enough to stop, but enough to let me know there is some sort of trouble in the joint. And today, I am constantly reminded of my experiment. I am even considering wearing my brace. I am also not looking forward to the drive to Smithsburg I will take tonight. Maybe I should leave these decisions to the experts. Who am I to question a world renowned surgeon? So, I'll take a little Advil and rest today.
I wonder if the scissors kick would be any better...?

The Trouble with Crayfish

Two weeks ago I took the kids to Valley View Farms to get tadpoles and snails for our garden pond. Colson and Bella both thought it would be a great idea to also have tadpoles and snails as pets. I couldn't have agreed more. What's better than a science lesson right in the house?
So, we brought the tadpoles home and went about setting up a nice home for them. The sole survivor of our winter hermit crab experiment was living in a spacious 10-gallon tank. Needless to say he got evicted and sent to live in a 2 and 1/2 gallon pirate-themed tank (left over from Bella's fish Shelby - God rest her soul). His view is better but he's certainly more cramped. I'll probably wind up getting him a 5-gallon one. I get a little claustrophobic just looking at him in there.

Back to the tadpoles - We lined the bottom of the tank with pebbles and filled it with treated water and released them. Then we cleared the corner of the counter and placed the tank there so as to be able to keep an eye on them and to ensure we wouldn't forget to feed them.

A few days ago Frank took the kids to the creek to go crayfishing. This is something we do quite often. They returned with two very large crayfish. (Prior to that we had put one small crayfish in the tank who seemed to get along just fine with the tadpoles). Frank and the kids thought it might be a good idea to put the new crustaceans in the tadpoles' home. I did not agree, but I let it happen.

I hate to say," I told you so." but....I noticed one of the tadpoles had a small tear in his tail. He seemed to be swimming along fine though, so I did nothing. The next morning I came to the kitchen and checked on them first thing. Alas, the other tadpole was struggling along with no tail. The damn crayfish ate the poor baby frog's tail! I don't really know what this means for his development. We will have to wait and see.

The crayfish were in big trouble. I immediately put them in time-out in a bucket on the deck out back. There was no way I was going to allow the tadpoles to endure further torture at the hands (claws?) of these beasts. After making sure the tadpoles were going to be all right, I fed them some yummy frozen brine shrimp (their favorite snack) and turned my attention to disciplining the naughty crayfish. It was back to the creek for them. The kids and I walked over to the rain-swollen creek and unceremoniously dumped them into the murky water. They didn't not quickly scurry or rejoice at being back in the creek. They lay where they landed for a moment or two. Perhaps they were regretting their recent behavior. Maybe they were even ready to repent. I'm not sure, but I do know I will ever be able to trust a crayfish again. So, quickly we turned our backs on them and returned home before we had a change of heart.

I guess the kids can learn a valuable lesson from this - leave nature in nature. No good can come from trying to tame a wild animal, or fish or crustacean. I'm happy to report the tadpoles seem to be recovering from their injuries. They were recently swimming vigorously as I feed them some blood worms. Hopefully they will still grow their back legs without defect. Only time will tell.

I Am Scared...

Sometimes when you see a movie you say to yourself, "Boy, I'm glad I didn't see that in the theater." Usually when one makes such a statement it is because the movie is pretty bad. This was not the case tonight: Frank and I watched "I Am Legend" (at home in our cozy den in our happy house in our pleasant neighborhood). The reason I am glad I did not see this movie in the theater is because I would have been embarrassed by my behavior had anyone other than Frank seen me. I was breathing heavily, my heart raced. I got up and walked out of the room. I closed my eyes. I hid behind a pillow (what am I 10 -I haven't done that since I watched "Jaws"). I had an upset stomach and I even talked to Will Smith. "Get back in the car, forget the dog!" and "Close the door...close the door...close the damn door Will."
Don't get me wrong, I loved this movie. I'd like to watch it again. But shit, I was really scared. The suspense nearly killed me. My stomach still hurts a little. When it was over we had to watch a little Mad TV to take the edge off. Then I was afraid to be downstairs by myself. How could Frank want to go to bed at a time like this? But here I sit in the basement. Alone. My cat Tiger is staring at me which is a little unsettling. Otherwise I am calming down somewhat. Breathing is returning to normal.
I can remember a time when I could watch "A Nightmare on Elm Street" without flinching. The "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" movies were a breeze to watch. What the heck happened? How did I become a Nervous Nelly. Heck, I work in the damn business and I know what goes into shooting something like that. The dark seekers had to sit through hours of makeup. Some poor wardrobe assistant had to shred and sand countless pairs of pants and shirts to age the costumes. There were probably 50 people standing around on the other side of the camera eating donuts. Some PA was getting yelled at by a producer for screwing up Will Smith's Starbucks order. And yet, with that knowledge I was still very uncomfortable. Waiting....waiting...waiting for the dark seeker to come out and show his horrible self.
What happened to me? I had a life-size cut-out of Freddie Krueger in my dorm room and posters of him on my walls- right next to my bed! I slept like a champ (through classes even). I yearn for the days when I can watch a scary movie. I recently closed my eyes and plugged my ears while watching a commercial for "The Strangers". A commercial. Hello? Why? Is it because I am a mother? Is it because I am older? Does age have an affect on your scare tolerance? Or have I just watched too many Disney and other G-rated movies and I need to build up my tolerance.
Perhaps it's like alcohol: if you drink more it takes you longer to get drunk. So, if I watch more scary movies I will better tolerate the suspense, thus enjoying the film so much more.
I think I need to go back to my old ways. I lost touch with horror around the time of the "Scream" series. I could rent a few older, milder films made before the effects were more realistic, back when the hacking scenes were kind of funny. Maybe watch one a month. Slowly build up to "Saw" or "The Ring". Maybe I could even see "The Happening" in the theater. Maybe I'll go see it tomorrow. I've always been more of a cold turkey type than one to take baby steps.
Yes, I have some catching up to do. I've been on the wagon for to damn long. I think it's time for a little horror binge.