Well, things happen. I guess.

Well.  We bought a dryer.  We basically designated our old one for assignment (We bought it and its washing machine soul mate with my first full-time teaching paycheck; in hindsight knowing how much I used to get paid, I'm amazed that we pulled that heist off.  I feel good about the 11 1/2 years we spent together.  But when I spent 6 hours, routinely, trying to get a load of sheets dry, we decided to let it test the free agent market and sign with whomever it wanted.  Fortunately, that transaction worked well.), and the new model sings a little song to me whenever its done with a load. 

I wish I knew that it in the store.

I want to take a baseball bat to it already.

Just shut up already and stop gloating that you did what I told you to do, i.e. dry the clothes.

In hindsight, I seem to recall hearing whisperings of others with musical dryers as well, though this "upgrade" boggles my mind.  What function does this serve?  Are we trying to calm the masses who may be otherwise upset with their laundry chores by tricking them into thinking that the ice cream truck is coming instead?  DOES IT HAVE TO CHIME A LITTLE TOODLEY-TOOT AT ME FOR 10 SOLID SECONDS?!? 

You know what would be a valuable upgrade?  Drying my sheets better.  Let's stick with our intended task, here, Bertha. 

It turns out that no easy task is ever easy in this house.  Dryers are purty easy to install...in other words, an easy in-and-out task.  But when the dryer is wedged into a tight spot behind the washer, things gotta move.  Maybe the washing machine was feeling like her time is coming (calm down, Betty Lou...we're keeping you since you do your job).  Maybe the installers (both of whom I am monetarily invested in...i.e. the boy and my dad) did us a service in finding a weak spot that could very well have burst at an inopportune time.  Whatever the case may be, we have a new set of hoses all ready to be installed on Betty Lou.  But she's been rooted to her spot for a decade, and her old hoses not only broke but badliy, and a plumber has been called in the hopes of mitigating the potential damage.

Yes, that's exactly it, you smart person.  We need a plumber because we bought a dryer.

Fortunately, we have some highly acommodating

  

in-laws across town who are more than willing to provide a washing machine for us to use for the coupe of loads that I was saving for the new dryer.  So as to stem the spread of grodiness among dirty clothing and towels, we've taken a couple of loads across town.  The second load involved a tight schedule and a hail storm.

Again, you hit the nail on the head, wonderful reader of mine.  I was caught in a monsoon with half of an umbrella (truly, I tell you...my umbrella situation is pitiful) and a load of wet towels (two of which I promptly dropped back down on the dirty, dirty ground while trying to shove the aforementioned load of wet towels back into my trunk while holding the half of an umbrella in between my chin/cheek and shoulder while the torrents challenged my fortitude and thankfulness) all because we bought a dryer. 

At this rate, I may drop a freshly baked pan of gooey chocolate chip cookies in a mud puddle because we bought a dryer.  I might have to take out a second mortgage because we bought a dryer.  I might accidentally get arrested BECAUSE WE BOUGHT A DRYER. 

In the dictionary of my life, should you choose to look up the definition for "adult," it will simply relate this story.  Adulting is some weird stuff, people.

Brownie duds

A year ago, we replaced our kitchen range when our old one incinerated itself while I was baking some chocolate chip cookies for the boy. 

(Let's take a moment to remember that sheet pan full of cookie dough.  Gone too soon.  Unable to reach their full potential.

Let's also rejoice that I didn't have a pricey and time consuming pan of something roasting away in there.  I would have been more along the lines of livid.)

Now, our house is what I affectionately refer to as "always for sale," which means that we're loathe to throw down some serious coin for an appliance that we're not going to take with us when we con someone strike a bargain of a deal to take over the mortgage for this joint.  (Poor sap.  You're out there somewhere.  I'm just waiting on you to introduce yourself to us.)  So, we invested in a "functional" brand new range.  It has no bells, but it does have a whistle that I still can't figure out and therefore never use the timer on the oven.  On the plus side, all four of my burners are reliable unlike the previous 10 years of my life with Ol' Bessie.  On the negative side, I CAN'T BAKE A DECENT BATCH OF BROWNIES TO SAVE MY COCOA-DEPENDENT LIFE. 

Folks.  It's turning into a catastrophe around here.  I've been hankering for days upon weeks for a gooey/fudgy batch of dark, dark brownies (preferably "studded with nuts," which is always my choice).  My range is unable to apparently regulate heat.  This results in dark, dark brownies that are too, too dry. 

We ALL know that an excellent brownie requires two things: chocolately-ness and the right texture.  I can like with all of you "cakey brownie" people, but I'd prefer that you wipe your feet before you enter my house and also not talk to me.  Just keep your (wrong) opinions to yourself.  You fudgy brownie people - you're my favorite people in the whole widey world.  Let's debate pecans v. walnuts someday. 

My range is quite obviously in the how-can-ruin-the-texture-of-every-baked-product category.  I've learned to adapt for cookies.  Other goodies are more malleable.  But brownies just require a certain knack for toothsomeness that I just can't reconcile with Omar the Angry Oven. 

I know (I know...) about an oven thermometer, which I used to have with Ol' Bessie and found to be not that helpful.  I haven't gone this route again with Omar since I've been able to basically make things work with variable cooking times.  But right now, if we have to suffer through another pan of mediocrely textured dry-ies, I'm gonna get weepy. 

Lesson learned, Omar.  Sometimes cheap is as cheap does.  Now to just find that poor sap to offload you...

(In other news, I signed a contract a few days ago to have our house re-roofed.  And we bought a whole new furnace/AC system 6 months ago.  There's broke.  And then there's b-r-o-k-e.  I'm over this shanty.)

SBII

Folks.  For kicky giggles, I've been weighing myself at the end of the weeks, often, just to see if this "running thing" is actually all that and (enough calories to afford eating) a bag of chips.  I've slid back into the previous decade on the scale, so I guess I'll keep on keepin' on.  That's not actually why I've been running, or at least it's about at the pinky on my hand 'cause I'm a believer in things are what they are, amen.  But at the same time, if the numbers go down a snitch, how 'bout that?!  Who knew that logging the miles meant the cinnamon rolls still taste delicious and don't sit so heavy on the hips?    Pretty much everyone.

We're squeezing out all of the goodness that is Spring Break part II (SBII), which has had some glorious moments.  Allow me to gush. 
1.  The boy took over half of the dropping off & picking up of children duties.  He missed a turn the second morning & apparently heard about it from the Younger 'cause "that's not the right way to school." 
2.  I had a coffee date on Wednesday, whereupon the boy across from me spent time looking up information on a house for sale that he drove by.  He overlooked the fact that I drive by these houses every day.  I already know the knows about these things.
3.  My mom called in the middle of our date, and when I called her back, I coyly intimated that "I was on a date with my boyfriend."  Now I'm covered.  No one will question me in the future should I ever want to take another boy out on the town.
4.  Baseball started this week!  It's been a lousy week in the records column, but for the first week of the season, it's still pretty great!!!
5.  Not only have I skitched my driving duties, but I've largely ignored the Younger on at least 2 occasions when I pretty much forgot that I had children at all.  This introvert needs some chunks of time like that once upon a season.
6.  The boy had minimal track stuff this week.  It's been a nice week of farewell before we'll see him again at the end of May.  Maybe June, depending.

In the meanwhile, I've been making a more concerted effort to read, starting with The Word Detective by John Simpson.  If you're into WORDS and all things OED (Oxford English Dictionary) - because who isn't? - then this is an enjoyable read.  And the dude is all together willing to make fun of himself in an entirely British sort of way.  And I like that. 

But, gentle readers.  The last time I went to the library intending to get 1 or maybe 2 books, I accidentally checked out 8.  I'm still just in #1 (though #8 is a cookbook all about cupcakes so I've tasted that a bit, too).  It's oy vey difficult to find time to chew up some reading and still see my boys. 

Life is a constant push and pull scenario.  Woe, woe, woe is me.

Coming up next includes a memoir by a woman who grew up with a thief for a dad (but she didn't know it), some fluffy fiction because I figure it's been a year and maybe it's time that I remember what a good story is, and a couple of looks at some historical moments/people of whom and about whom I know absolutely nothing.

And on that note, allow us to pause for a moment in honor of a couple of spunky gals - Sonia Sotomayor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  I read Sotomayor's memoir a few weeks back, and trust you me when I say that it's not political at all.  She makes a point to stop right where most just begin to know who she is.  Her life, like so many, is nothing short of extraordinary and que interesante - an excellent read for anyone who needs a sample of a woman in charge of her own destiny.  I just finished The Notorious RBG last week (prompting my ill-fated trip to the library), and it's. just. delightful.  There's no gloss, no veneer, no political tom foolery.  It's just about what makes RBG so notorious - another thoughtful work about a woman we should all wish to know. 

So that's what's been going down and what's coming up in real time these next few days.  Also, my cat has wretched breath and is about to get booted off my lap.  The nightly struggle...

Perfect piggy pedi palooza!

When you walk into your 10 AM pedi appointment (first time slot of the day, folks! no wait!) with BRIGHT my-7-year-old-actually-chose-these-for-me-and-I-love-them running gear and coffee in hand, think twice before offering the pedicurist your scummy feet while blithely announcing "I just ran 3 miles this morning, and I've been looking forward to this!" and no other information.  For example, a lovely (and necessary) follow-up might sound something like "Don't worry.  I definitely took a shower first."

I completely forgot that part because bliss, thy name be A Good Pedicure.

After some searching, I've found my pedicure home.  Granted, the first song that came on the radio when I started soaking my piggies was "Hit Me Baby, One More Time."  Ah, that took me back to ye good olde days of music.  Even some Britney can't ruin my mood because this was a well earned hour of warm, bubbly water and foot rubs with some plum paisley thrown in for good measure.

(I do gravitate to the dark, dark colors for the toes.  It's my (toe) jam.  One time, probably out of a nervous habit of wanting to fill the silence - slash - make awkward chitchat, I asked the pedicurist's opinion about colors and she essentially said "These are colors for summer, not what you're looking at."  I mistakenly listened to her so as not to keep on careening toward Awkwards-ville, and did. not. like. that. color. at. all.  I never went back there.)

Someone tell me why a dark shade of purple, a solid color, is called plum paisley seeing as how it's not paisley at all.  I liked the name though, and this is also a decided factor in how I choose paint colors: Sugar cookie?  Check.  Peacock fancy?  Yes, please.  Purple-icious?  No m'aam. 

All of this is by way of saying, a decided highlight of SpRiNg BrEaK '17 (part I) was my hour spent with my new BFF (whose name I don't know but who still gets paid pretty well to be my friend once every 4 months).  I love the whole experience from the delightful smells of something like heaven when I walk in to the smooth, slippery way my feet feel when I leave, from the first moment scooching my feet down into the copper tub to the way she doesn't make me talk for the entire 60 minutes, from the way it takes me an hour to read about 12 pages because I'm so distracted by foot joy to the way my coffee tastes decadent. 

I'm just a girl in need of a foot rub now and again with a little bit of polish thrown in for good measure. 

I've done the manicure thing before, and it was OKAY.  I've done the massage thing before, and it was NICE.  But the feet have it.  It took me about 10+ years of my adult life to realize this is just a part of my yearly budget.  I'll eschew all manner of things that would otherwise sap my pedicure funds in favor of this one-perfect-hour treat.  When I make my first million, yes there will be weekly pedicures in my life. I am pedi sure about that. 

Hear ye, hear ye!

In another round of I'm-late-to-the-party-but-better-late-than-never, I have a few links to share tonight.  Good links.  Sometimes funny links.  Scratch your head or sigh in comradeship links. 

Here's the deal.  I find myself with some extra time on my ears that isn't fully taken with a form of media, and as I was typing that sentence, I realized just how many different outlets of communication I have on a daily basis in my life now.
1.  Sirius XM radio (at least for a couple of more months...thanks hubs, for the Christmas present 'cause I heart Michael Smerconish!)
2.  6 large TV screens on various channels in front of me while treadmilling (On another note where I talk about running yet again, I'd like to point out that I thought today was going to absolutely bite the biggest of the big ones cause it's been a few days since I've run.  And it didn't.  3 cheers to that.)
3.  2 different devices with a constant email update/news update/entertainment update, all day long
4.  a favorite TV show for about an hour in the afternoon and another hour at night if I'm lucky
5.  3 podcasts that I follow every week
6.  another couple of podcasts that I've dabbled with
7.  a new podcast that I tried this week
8.  MLB TV soon and very soon (like a breath of springshine, the new season is a'startin')

But let's gab about #7 for a bit.  I occasionally reach into the TED Talks vaults for a class source with a couple of the classes that I teach.  And they're always fantastic.  Always smartly delivered.  Always fascinating.  Who knew that TED Talks are available for podcasts and videocasts?  Indeedy, they are.  They're that nugget of insight, wisdom and learning for the sake of learning that's been missing from my life.  They're (generally) kid-safe (which means that I can have them on in public spaces while putzing in the kitchen), and they're delivered in snappy little 5-20 minute packages, which is perfect-o for those times when you have a few minutes but not long enough for an entire episode of whatever it is that you're involved with. 

Just while juicing a few lemons, prepping for pizza and unloading a dishwasher, I listened to a discussion on asteroids (she seems like someone that I want to drink coffee with) and some thoughts about why we should raise brave girls (YES, YES, oh my YES & color me convicted of not practicing my own bravery skills).  When I was then making the pi pizza pie (it's 3-14 & my young people are always down for a mid-week, kitschy celebration), I sighed deep sighs on the truth of women's voices (my sighs were shockingly British sounding, too).  While I folded towels tonight, I considered a different perception of indoctrination (and will promptly be integrating this into my lesson plans for next week - get read, ENGW-132!).  And, while throwing on some clothes post-shower/pre-school pick-up, I delighted in learning from obituaries (fascinating stuff & proof positive that I don't only listen to female TED Talks speakers). 

Good people.  Embrace a new possibility.  A new potential.  A new bit of knowing.  If nothing else, I find that listening to brilliant and motivated people make me cheer for humanity and strive to be more of everything in a good way, a possible way.  There's a whole bunch of hope in knowing that a whole bunch of others know a whole bunch of things that I don't and so that I don't have to. 

And if you have a bit more time in your world or want to delve into a longer conversation of happenstance and hard work combined, I encourage you to give How I Built This a go.  I've only listened to a couple so far, but they haven't failed to make me shake my head a bit and appreciate the Common Joe aspect of all the innovators and entrepreneurs among us.

With all of those listens I'm sending your way, here's a clip for you parents out there.  I envy her spunk when faced with a car trip with kids.  There's just about nothing I dread more.  I want to be at so many places, but the boy doesn't want to foot the bill for airplane tickets (begrudgingly, I'm in agreement with right now), which means that we make calculated risks using Mapquest to guide our X-hour parameters.  We're firmly in the pack-up-the-kids-and-a-puke-bucket-mode around here.  My child...she is what she is.  But I'd like to see where the adrenaline-from-another-round-of-carsickness Mommy-tude falls into the hourly breakdown.  HINT:  For us, it happens pretty fast.  (I had the girls 45 minutes away from home this past Saturday for a girl's day adventure.  We made it 15 minutes before we had windows down and the familiar look was on her face.)

   

From the riffraff to the hoi polloi

Folks - I ran for 25 minutes at 5.5 miles per hour today (40 minutes total - that was my middle jag).  That's the fastest for the longest, people.  Cheer ye all, cheer ye all, I did not so much as keel over and perish but still ran on.

Readers - I'm glad that I have girls.  I spend 40 minutes a day reading books with two best friends who help fairies capitulate against conniving goblins and a nefarious Jack Frost rather than about muddy trucks and backhoes.  This is one of those times when God was three (thousand) steps ahead of me and knew my heart.

People - It's swimming week for the Elder, which means nightly hair washings and a couple of extra loads of laundry.  Have you ever tried to comb my daughters thick, gnarly wet hair?  Oh, lovely people.  I have.  Many times.  And that's enough to sprout my first grey hair.  Detangler is something of a placebo against this gnarl, and it must be two-three times a week that I ever so gently and kindly remind her that IF YOU WOULD LET US CUT IT, THIS WOULD NOT BE OUR HAIR WASHING SITUATION.  The end.

Homies - I'm about fed up with students who don't take the time to look at my feedback before shooting off an email to me about WHY DID I GET THIS GRADE and (my favorite) YOU MUST HAVE ENTERED THE WRONG GRADE HERE.  No, good students of my class.  I didn't.  You just stunk at that assignment.  All is not peaches and As when one does not take the time to understand the assignment and abide by the parts being asked of one.  But then we get back to class and I remember that I like my students a whole bunch, and I keep on a'keepin' on.

Humans - Today's word is "protmanteau" because that's relevant.

Community - My lilacs are burgeoning with leaves and my "decorative crab apple" tree has the hazy red of springtime on its blushing branches.  Absurd.  Unreal.  It's March 8.  I'm concerned about all things springtime in this crazy season of warm-cold-warm-cold-warm.  I also read a book on urban gardening lately (really good...makes me want to plant some potatoes in the front yard, be forewarned).  Someone send me some seeds!  Or seedlings!  'Cause I don't have any place to sprout seeds!  Let's get our warm dirty dirt on.

Mortals - I'm also reading a book about sugar.  Lemmetellya.  There's some good stuff in there about things like high fructose corn syrup that I just didn't know before and some things that I glaze through for a couple of pages at a time but overall, it's a sweet read.  Sweet, I say.  And it makes me want to swear off desserts forever.  But I haven't gotten to the part where we talk about how sugar is addictive yet.  We'll see what we learn when we get there.

Plebians - I got a doughnut today.  I knew that I was going to get a doughnut today.  It helped me through the last 7 minutes of my almost-so-I'll-say-it-was 4 mile chug today.  That doughnut didn't last long enough to make up for those last 3 minutes.

Tribe - Yes, yes I am using thesaurus.com.  It's 10 o'clock, and I'm also watching TV.  Sometimes the power of words elludes me at moments such as these.

Commonality - This one's a stretch.

Mob - I like this one.  Let's be a really good mob, though.  Let's mob illicit ice cream or something.

Family - I like putting on some running leggings in the morning and putting off the morning shower for a couple of hours.  And these knees, they're fresh and ready to go seeing as how I coddled them for the first 33 years of their existence.  I think I have a couple of good years yet in them.  Maybe even a 5K.  If it's not too bright and not too humid and not too cold and no one in the crowds lining the race knows me. 

Blogees - I'm going to eat some cereal because there isn't a better pre-bedtime nibble.  So says me. 

Sleeping...kinda...sometimes

So I blissfully slept on the couch last night, curled up wearing a sweatshirt and in the middle of four blankets of various weight.  I'm a girl who likes some heat and the weight of covers when she sleeps.  There have likely been downwards of two times in my life when I haven't been able to sleep because "it was so hot."  Por ejemplo.  We went tent camping in 100-degree humid heat last year.  The heat bothered me not a jot (at night).  When I was a mid-teen, my parents gave me one two of my favorite presents ever: flannel sheets and a down comforter.  July was toasty roasty in my room.  I admit, it almost sounds disgusting to me to acknowledge that I used to sleep in flannels year round, but then I remember the glacial conditions that my dad (i.e. the one controlling the A/C) prefers.  Whenever we visit now, there's nearly always an extra blanket or two ready and waiting at the foot of the bed because it's like they know me.   

Those roasting July nights of my youth...ah...those were some of the best of times when it comes to my sleep.  As an adult, there have really been two better-than-I-could-possibly-believe of times that I now recognize in hindsight.  (If only I had appreciated the glory days when I was in them.  Nowadays is very much not the glory days.) 
#1:  When I was teaching full-time, pre-children especially, and getting up earlyearlyearly so that I could drive to work and/or when I didn't even have the longer commute but still cut myself off from work at 11 PM each night after longlonglong days.
#2:  Both times I had a newborn.  Naturally.  Those days taught me how to sleep for realsies. 

But something happened a little over 18 months ago, July 2015, actually.  That was some humdinger of a month, I tell ya.  Sleep - no more.  Hormones - not my normal.  Life - different.  I'm pretty positive that this whole thing has been a hormone issue from the get-go given that my sleep changed muy dramatically all at the same time as other not-very-exciting-nor-blogworthy things happened.  But who knew that one would need to be sleep trained mid-30s?  Not I.

Now I.


I read this article once before but came across it again today and I read this last night, so it seemed like a good time to talk about it, given my couch surfing proclivity.  (To be fair, I fully expected to sleep on the couch last night 'cause I had coffee late and was teaching late.  Even without coffee, after driving home, it takes me a while to downshift into neutral, and by that point, my normal was a while ago.) 

I desperately want my own room that we can call a "guest room" for the sake of social appearances.  I never need melatonin when I sleep by myself.  I always need it at minimum otherwise. 

I don't love all of the 10 tips, though, for re-training your sleep patterns.  I'm n-o-t a fan of less than 67 degrees in my bedroom.  We get that low in the winter, but my nose gets cold.  Blergh.  I'm not on board with getting rid of a clock, even though I'm aware of the light issue.  And it's 100% IMPOSSIBLE that I forgo my computerly devices within 2 hours of sleeping.  When would I work?  That is my prime working time; I could have a jam packed kid day and feel confident that I was going to get something accomplished once they were put away for the night.  It's a non-option.  I feel anxious-er now just thinking such a dreadful thought.

I haven't tried any of the teas yet because a) tea tastes like t-e-a (and while I've adjusted to my cuppa green each day, unsweetened, something reminiscent of hay doesn't scream sleep baby sleep to me) and b) diuretics seem to contradict my nighttime goals.  Has anyone had any success with an herbal nod? 

And how does one sleep this way when one is not in one's own meticulously curated sleeping space?  So much can go wrong.  So much does go wrong.  There's a noisy fan running somewhere.  The room is frigid.  My child is BREATHING beside me.  The windows don't have coverings (what the what here, good people of the hospitality industry?!?).  Good people that we travel with are on a different sleep/wake schedule and talk like people are wont to do.  The mattress just feels different.  Call me kooksville if you want, but why yes, I am that person bringing my own pillow to the hotel/B&B/in-laws/whatehaveyou because that's a deal breaker.  Give me my pillow or give me a night of wallowing.  (I do have the perfect pillow.)

Sleeping outside of my home is a new worry.  A worrisome worry.  It's enough to make me all a-dither before the witching hour draws nigh when staring a strange sleeping arrangement in the face.  It's gotten to the point that I mentally scout a second-option-escape-route out in advance.  Just in case.  And it's almost always needed now.

Piffle.

This sleeping thing is for the birds.  Maybe not...they were singing pretty happily at 5 AM-ish just the other day.