Karma Near-Miss

Some of my favorite memes are Karma related, I especially like a tee shirt I saw which read “Dear Karma, I have a list of people you missed.”  There’s another that says “I saw that,” signed Karma.  I still like Karma memes, even though JD had a near-miss with Karma this past weekend.

A couple of weeks ago my SIL moved into her half of the duplex she bought after her husband decided he didn’t want to be married any longer.  She actually hired movers to help with most of the stuff but prior to that there was a LOT of family assistance in moving out Mom’s belongings from the basement apartment.  Mom will not be going home from the facility where she’s currently residing.  She’s not worse (though she has slid backwards a bit with her speech) but she will never be able to care for herself well enough to be on her own and the facility is more affordable than in-home care.

We took a U-haul up two different weekends to collect stuff.  After delivering a variety of things to our daughter’s place for storage until the duplex was ready we unloaded the rest at our house.  Imagine if you will two bookshelves, a china hutch, a glass knick knack thingy, plus a couple dozen boxes all arranged in your living room around your existing furniture.  We had just gotten the last batch of family hand-me-downs cleared out for heaven’s sake!

SIL is all moved in; JD went down the morning she was moving in and hooked up her computer so she’d be able to work – did I mention the bitch gets to work from home?  I say “bitch” with all the love and snark in my heart.  I am truly fortunate in the in-law department.

Okay, okay let’s get back to Karma – with SIL moved in JD was asked last week by his daughter to help move SIL’s old couch to her mother’s apartment.  Yes, that mother – THE EX.  While JD puts up with a lot on that front (sharing all holidays with her, watching his family welcome her as though she’s a prodigal daughter, putting up with her claim that she has no memory of how she behaved during their divorce) I don’t blame him for not wanting to move furniture for her.  There’s an argument to be made that it was really for his sister and/or daughter, but he puts up with all that other stuff for them, not for himself.  On this point I have to agree with him; he had no obligation to help in this way just because we own a truck and his daughter asked nicely.

So JD lied.  Well okay, he didn’t lie about the truck, it really wouldn’t start.  But privately, he figured that was probably just a low battery.  His explanation to SIL and our daughter however implied there was more wrong and that the Chevy dealer couldn’t look at it right away, plus there was the diagnostic fee which we wouldn’t have till pay day.  The furniture moving request went away; not sure how they managed it and personally, I don’t care.  I love that JD tolerates (barely) having The Ex around, how else would I get to see my grandkids?  But I hate how it makes him feel and I’m just fine with not helping her out.  I know, not very Christian of me.  Sue me.

JD dug out the battery charger (after 2 days of looking) and hooked it up.  We let it charge most of Saturday.  The next afternoon we loaded the dogs in the backseat of the crew cab and he tried to start it for a visit to his mother.  No such luck.  It just clicked.  My heart sank and I could feel Karma breathing down our necks.  JD had implied there was something more dire wrong with the truck and now of course, Karma was going to make that happen.

To wind this up let me say to Karma, “THANK YOU for not kicking our butts over JD’s lie!”  Yesterday JD called AAA and they sent a battery truck out to take a look.  The culprit wasn’t a bad battery!  Or a bad anything else!  The cables had worked loose and while it wasn’t apparent, JD still couldn’t understand why he’d missed that when he was charging it.  I think it was Karma, giving him a little slap/scare that there really was something wrong.  That’ll teach him!  Or not.

Now I’m off to shop for a Karma tee shirt!

 

 

 

Detente Anyone?

She sits there above it all, her expression clearly reflecting her displeasure.  The interlopers have ruined everything!  Accustomed to running about the kingdom as she saw fit, Her Royal Highness is now forced to remain on her throne or come nose-to-nose with the hairy, four-legged beasts who have invaded her domain.  Forget that she too is hairy and four-legged; “They’re monsters!” she hisses.

At least that’s how it looks to me as I observe the interactions between our ancient cat and our new additions. Twig, alone for months now after our beloved Beagle passed, had grown comfortable with her solo role.  She slept wherever and whenever she wanted, moseyed to her litter box if so inclined and drank her fill at the never-ending water bowl (no, NOT the toilet, merely a Sparklett’s-style water dispenser which, for a single cat is the same as never-ending).

Four days ago her self-centered routine was upended when Bear and Kohl arrived to join our family.  At eleven and seven these Black Lab-mixes are as different as night and day.  Bear is eager and enthusiastic, ready for a new adventure, and he easily settled into our household.  His brother Kohl is a bit more skittish and has some separation anxiety, jumping at every unexpected noise.  I feel his eyes on me constantly when I’m moving about the house, as though he needs to keep tabs on me for some reason.

It isn’t like they want to hurt Twig.  They’ve lived with a feline before and were quite friendly with him.  I’ve seen the photos of them sleeping together.  But Twig has been on her own for so long and they’re both so big — much bigger than the Beagle who was Twig’s most recent roommate.  Bear is aptly named; his head is quite bear-like.  He’s tall too; able to rest his chin on my dining room table without having to stretch at all!  Kohl isn’t so large but he’s very excitable and moves quickly.

The boys enjoy a rousing game of tug of war, with us or each other, or with us AND each other.  Three-way tug of war is fun but I’m still sore from throwing the tennis balls on Monday.  It’s been a long time since I played with dogs.  The aforementioned Beagle wasn’t much of a player; probably because she was quite old.  Her partner in crime, our original Lab-mix (who passed a few years ago) did enjoy the occasional game of fetch but he tired out pretty quickly.  These boys play as though their lives depend on it!  Bear (the 11 year old) will give Kohl a run for his money too.  But Kohl can catch balls and toys in mid-air (greatly impressing our 9 year old grandson) and being younger, he’s much faster.  I appreciate their first mama’s advice to always take two balls to the park!

The optimum though is three:  Throw the first one, both dash for it and usually Kohl is there first.  Wait for Bear to turn around, ensure he’s watching, and throw the second ball while Kohl trots back with the first.  As Bear returns with the second, throw the third.  Repeat.

I’ve been looking to adopt a dog again off and on for months.  After we tried and failed to rescue a beautiful Beagle who had been severely traumatized I gave up for a while.  A few weeks ago I started looking again.  I thought we had a Black Lab named Bella but we didn’t have the “rehoming” fee at the right time and while they agreed to hold her till I got paid, I also told them if they found her a home before then so be it.  The important thing to me is that she went to a home and not a shelter or the pound.

Then I saw K’s ad about wanting to keep her boys together.  Some folks wouldn’t give an older dog a second look; add in a brother who needs to stay with him and I think you can imagine the difficulty of finding a home for them.  Once I saw the photo of them, shoulder-to-shoulder carrying a large piece of driftwood on the beach how could I not take them both?

K and her husband are a young couple with an almost-toddler and 2 full time jobs.  Before their daughter was born they did a lot of outdoors stuff with the dogs.  After, well you know how it is.  Some things get sacrificed when you work full time and care for a baby.  Unfortunately, K felt they were neglecting the boys and she wanted them to have more attention.

During the week before they brought them to our house she took them both to the vet for boosters, picked up a joint supplement from the vet for Bear and even bathed them the morning they arrived.  It was clear when we met the family that they loved their boys and the boys clearly adored them.  Their “dad” even inquired about possibly visiting in the future.  I was glad we could put their mind at rest, that we weren’t judging them for choosing to find a new home for the dogs, and that we would give their boys a lot of love.  One of the photos I texted to K later that night showed one of the dogs stretched out on the new bed we bought.  Above him in the photo are some of the toys we picked up at the same time.  Seeing those delighted K and, I think reassured her Bear and Kohl were going to be fine.

Whether Twig will be is another story.  She may have to abdicate her throne and move to my daughter’s place if the three of them can’t get along.  I know they should get used to each other eventually but I’d like to see some sign that’s happening.  She won’t come down off her cat tree to drink or use her box unless they’re gone to the park or asleep on my bed…and I’m standing watch.  I don’t want her health to suffer before they reach détente.  I have to keep reminding myself it’s only been four days.  Sigh.

 

 

NSFW

Unless you plug in your earbuds. And I hope it’s clear that if it isn’t safe for work it isn’t appropriate for kids either. 

I know there are all sorts of benefits to be attained by meditating, but whenever I’ve tried to meditate in the past I usually wake up really groggy with a sore neck.  Not beneficial at all.

However, I may have to try again.


You’re welcome. Have a great weekend everyone. 

Sardines

I would say I know how they feel crammed wall to wall in their little cans but that would be a stretch since they’re dead. Does it count that I  wish I was dead?

It’s been a helluva week. First, I worked all day Saturday assisting in preparing exhibits (93 of them!) for a deposition. I know technically Saturday is last week according to our calendars but since last week never ended…you get the drift.  Then Sunday I was back at it because who could finish 93 exhibits in a single day? Maybe Super Secretary but not Janey. 

Monday was more of the same type of thing, but for the deposition of a different witness. Whose exhibits continued into Tuesday. 
Today started off reasonably calm. I was finally able to do some regular work. I even took half an hour for lunch! Then everything went boom and a third deposition needed exhibits prepared. In the middle of printing these ginormous spreadsheets, in color mind you, one of my team who was helping assemble everything, noticed that some of the numbers didn’t match. 

Apparently when the spreadsheets were formatted for printing (NOT by me) the formulae were enabled and the cells recalculated or something. All our printing wasted, and then we found out one of the associates had a “master copy” printout the whole time!

So I made copies, and folded each page of each spreadsheet so they’d fit in a binder. I finally got out of there at 6:30, only 18 minutes after the last train and having worked ten hours. Now I’m on an express bus counting my blessings that at least I have a seat! People are standing up and down the aisle. See? Sardines, sort of.

Ever notice…

…cashews seem to be the new peanuts?

Seriously, JD and I have been buying nuts a lot more often lately.  They’re full of healthy fats and taste yummy, win-win.  A while back we got this huge can of mixed nuts at our local MegaGinormusMart and before we knew it the nuts were all gone [sad face].  So occasionally JD picks up a new supply when he sees mixed nuts on sale and we dump them in that original can.

I’m sure you’ve seen mixed nuts advertised with a notation along the lines of, “less than 50% peanuts!” right?  Well, even then there always seemed to be a LOT of peanuts to me and I’d rather not have any of them in my mixed nuts.  I buy mixed because I want anything but peanuts!  Peanut butter?  Sure, especially on raisin toast.  Or with grape jelly on homemade bread.  But I’m not as fond of peanuts themselves for some reason.

Back to my original point – our latest refill has no peanuts (yay!) but tons and tons of cashews.  So, does that make cashews officially the next cheapest nut?  Why else would the Nut People replace peanuts with them?  Hmm?

Just something to ponder people.  Move along now.

I made it!

took-me-60-years

No lie – I am 60 years old today.  Can I get an OMG?  Or a holy cow?!  Maybe just a little yikes?

Meh.  I’ve been almost 60 for so long I’m nearly over the shock of it.  When I look in a mirror I can see some of the wear and tear (crow’s feet, laugh lines, sun spots) that many of us seem to experience to one degree or another.  I occasionally spy a single strand of silver here or there, but overall my natural ash blonde is still in residence, still thick and wavy.  A couple of months back I did dye it a sort of coppery shade in a “I want something different” type of experiment, which based on the reactions was a success.

Most of my life I’ve tried to ignore my birthday.  I’ve never liked being the center of attention, and birthdays shine a spotlight on you.  Granted, you’re only in that spotlight for mere moments out of the year, but I’m not a spotlight sort of person.  I give new meaning to the term “wallflower”.  Unfortunately, my boss of 18+ years doesn’t allow me to hide on my birthday, and has even baked me birthday cakes when her schedule allows.  She’s awesome like that.

I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise then that I’ve slowly grown more comfortable with my birthday.  While I can’t say I like it, I’ll tolerate being sung to in the office if absolutely necessary, blushing madly the whole time.  I even have a tiara somewhere that proudly proclaims I’m the “Birthday Babe” and includes sparkles and feathers.  One year not all that long ago, I brought it to work and positioned it at my desk for everyone to enjoy.  Yep, I’m definitely more at ease these days.

At least a couple of times this year I tried to start a post about turning sixty, hoping possibly for something deep and meaningful to share about my experiences on the planet.  I wasn’t very successful.  No surprise.  I could say I’m out of practice, but that would be a lie.  Janey doesn’t do deep and meaningful.  So because I wanted to post something here to celebrate that I survived to be 60, I turned to Uncle Google and found a few gems worth sharing.  This first one is a narrative after my own heart.

Across the Whoniverse, by Roz Warren.

I adore her second to last paragraph:

“Turning 60, many resolve to eat more healthfully, lose weight, or learn a new skill. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But I’m done improving myself.  I’m okay with the way I am. I don’t want to gobble more quinoa, learn to play a Beethoven piano sonata or finally become fluent in French.”

Personally, I like quinoa but otherwise I agree with Roz.

Next up is a lengthy list, some of which made me smile while others which made me grimace.

Sixty Thoughts About Turning Sixty, by Ian Martin.

My favorites:

  1. Grandparenthood is a beautiful revelation. You have kids, you know you will never experience that feeling of unconditional love for anyone else, ever, and then it happens all over again. A heart-stoppingly beautiful miracle.
  2. Sixty observations is suddenly feeling like quite a lot, to be honest.
  3. A stitch in time saves act three of most Star Trek episodes.
  4. You can’t judge a book by the shrill reviews on Amazon.

I had hoped to find more shareworthy wisdom about growing older, but having been ill most of this week I’m just happy to get this posted at all.  And let me tell you, there’s nothing like an energy-sapping, muscle-weakening, head-aching illness to make you grateful you actually made it to your birthday!  Thanks for counting down with me!

60-is-only-15-in-scrabble