What to say.....?

I don't know what to say, so I'll just blurt out what's on my mind....

On Sunday night, I started this rosy post about how lucky I am to have a wonderful Husband who provides for us so well, for having a smart Son who usually makes good decisions, for my Son being able to play a Jr. football halftime scrimmage years ago on Ford Field during a Lions pre-season game, I was going to write about how we've done things we consider normal that are part of people's bucket lists.  We've seen NHL, NFL and MLB games....the tickets were either free or low in price.  I took it for granted that everyone must have been to a pro game.  We aren't even sports fans.  We enjoy a game when we go, but don't seek them out.  What brought all this on was my Husband feeling too bad to go the Lion's game someone gave him tickets for.  I told the ladies at work (I had to put in a few hours on Sunday) that he was deciding not to go and planning to give the tickets away.  All of them said that was on their bucket list.  We've been to New Zealand, most of the 50 states and to a few provinces in Canada. There are some people I know who've never even been on an airplane, or seen a metropolis. It hit me then that we are blessed.  We have lived a lot of people's dreams.   I worry and fret about money, we struggle to make ends meet and have a tad of overlap.  We are like everyone else.

On Monday I sent my Husband a text telling him I love him, thanking him for being a great provider, keeping us safe and despite our mutual mediocre parenting that he is a great Father and that our Son was lucky to have him and so am I.  Monday I nagged my son in texts but failed to say I love you in any of them because his friends read them sometimes.  Today...I don't care. I will tell him I love him in texts because of Tuesday.

On Tuesday my "Pollyanna" outlook died. My Son sent me one of the worst texts I've ever gotten.  He told me to contact my friend "Lucy"  because her son "Will" committed suicide on Monday.  I thought it was a macabre game that Will was playing with his friends, it being so close to Halloween and all.  I went to my friend's facebook page.  It was horrible and ugly because it was true.

I sent her a text, she responded with thanks.

Will is my son's age, they spent time together as three of us Mom's yapped after school when we went to pick them up.  They rough housed with each other, Will, his little brother, my Son and another friend's son.  Will and my Son were in one class together.  That was enough for the poor teachers at their middle school.  The boys moved on to HS and we Mom's didn't hang out waiting for them anymore, they had after-school activities.  In other words we drifted and I am filled with "I meant to's".

Thursday we went to his viewing.  It was gut wrenching.  To look upon the face of a young man I had known, who was friends with my son was terrible. Will was all over the room.  Photos of Will as a baby, him in his various activities, him growing up, his family, his brother, his baby book, photo albums. his baby shoes and at the foot of the coffin, his empty hunting boots.  Lucy was holding up as well as she could.  I've never seen Lucy not be Lucy, but her spark was gone.  Will's brother is filled with hate.  He blames Lucy for it all.  I know he has to blame someone.  I know in time he will blame Will and be angry with him, but it's much too soon for that.  He's lost his courage.  Will was the "devil may care...push the limits" guy and his brother is a reserved methodical person.  Will was a helium balloon whereas his brother was his tether.  They were good for each other.

Friday, we went to the funeral.  We were there in time to get seats.  It filled up two chapels, standing room only.  I heard Lucy break and I saw Will's brother break.  Neither one went to the other.  Lucy has lost both son's for all intents and purposes.  Time will heal part of this, but not all of it.  Nothing will ever heal all of it.  The ceremony honored Will's life.  My Son sat with me and let me hold his hand a lot.

I seem to be crying at the drop of a hat.  I am so sad the family is so fractured.  I know they need each other to heal but they may never truly come together to support one another.  The parents are divorced and remarried.  The divorce was over 10 years ago and remarriages happened at least 10 years ago, so it wasn't a catalyst.  No one, aside from Will, truly knows why he felt this was the best or only option.

People often turn to God only in times of need or despair.  I pray when I think of a person.  I thank him when I look around at my life and the people I know.  We don't go to church but we do believe, we are saved, our Son is dedicated and is currently questioning and searching like most teens.  I keep hearing God heals all wounds.  I believe that he does, but only if the people are willing to accept that guidance and help.  When deep wounds heal the scar tissue is always tender for a very long time and can easily tear.  When people are trying to heal it seems they tend to tear at the scab or the new skin to rehash and open healing wounds.  I've seen it and I've lived it.  Very few people can seek and accept that healing guidance and move forward with a small scar, I failed that test.  There won't be any small scar with this wound, this is a gaping hole.

I am thankful for so much, my Husband, my life, our pets, but most of all my Son.  I just want to hold him and never let him go.

If anyone reading this has a teenager in their lives, make time for them.  Even when they are behaving like idiots, driving you to drink, causing you worry and fear, make time for them and think of how much you love about them.  Tell them.  If, by chance, a teenager is reading this.  Know that no matter how insignificant and unloved you feel, you aren't.  I don't care who you are, or what you've done.  Someone cares very deeply for you.  You've sent out ripples that will impact people you don't even know.  When people tease you, make fun of you, tear you down and try to ruin your reputation, remember, it's only a few years.  You just have to make it to college, you just have to hold on until then.

Get help.  I know teens won't rat on each other, I know that parents can't fight those battles like we did in elementary school.  It kills us to watch you hurting inside.  We, as parents and former teens, want to help.  If you can't turn to your parents, go to a teacher you like and just talk.  Let it out.  Don't hold on to the crap people say and do.  Know that they have more serious problems than you do.  They hurt people because they are mean, spiteful, rude kids who never learned a lesson on life.  Trust in fate and know that what they dish out will come back on them, it may take years, but they will get exactly what they've dished out somehow.

 If your parents or a person in charge (teacher, principal) is hurting you emotionally or physically, call a teen helpline, go to a shelter, turn to a friend's parents or a trusted Teacher or Preacher.  Help yourself with their guidance.  Live for yourself.  Live to spite them if that's what motivates you.  There are better ways to get revenge on a person (even a parent who's hurt you), revenge is moving on, not having them in your life by your choice then living the best life you can, the life that makes you happy, the life that allows you to reach your dreams.

High school is hard!  The idiot who said "these are the best years of your life" was a delusional maniac.  They are only good because you have no bills to pay and you don't have to support yourself financially.  These are some of the worst years you will ever have.  Years sound like forever to teenagers, take it hour by hour, day by day. All you have to do is take it one step at a time, one day at a time.  I have felt unloved, I've been the joke at school, I've been the weirdo.  I chose to act and dress the way I did because that way I controlled what they made fun of.  I never let them in far enough to find out what my real problems were.  Put up a mask if you have to, in order to protect yourself.  If you have one good friend who knows you, the real you, then you are truly blessed.  Very few people keep in touch after high school.  When high school is over your real life starts.  There is a light at the end of the dark tunnel and it won't always be a train.  Sometimes it's just the end of the tunnel where the world opens up. You just have to get through that tunnel.

If you made it to the end of this entry....kudos because it was long and very personal.

Ditzy Friends are the Best!

Ditz-as defined by Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary is a silly person who often forgets things.

Ditz – as defined by the Urban Dictionary equates us with Valley Girls…I’m like so totally cool with that!  Like ya know??

Ditz- as defined by The Free Dictionary is a scatterbrained eccentric person

I agree for the most part with these definitions.  Airhead also comes to mind as does distracted from trying to train a husband and teenager to act as mature as the cat.  I come by my ditzy moments honestly.  I was often a ditz as a teenager out of necessity.  There were people I didn’t really want to hang out with, who would be joining our group on an excursion or to a party.  “I like totally forgot!!” about the party or excursion so many times when an annoying person was to be joining us.  I also acted scatterbrained to get out of certain chores or to avoid other unpleasantries.   Being a semi-ditz at times was detrimental because there were some fun things that I genuinely forgot about because my mind was all over the place. 

Having a ditz as a friend is an excellent friend indeed.  We can be your excuse for not wanting to go places too.  Blame it on the ditz!  Chances are we won’t care, won’t get wind of it or will totally forget it in a few minutes. 

Everyone should have at least one ditz as a friend, unless of course you are a ditz, then you want to cut that right the heck out!  One can’t have two ditzes in the same social group.  The meeting would possibly trigger a blackhole or some other unimaginable physical horror.  When ditz’s collide nothing good can come of it.    

Ditziness is also great for gift giving.  I can go Christmas shopping with my husband in July or August.  Pick out a few things, watch him buy them, then he hides them and I totally forget about them until Christmas morning!  We did that one year with purses.  I vaguely recalled from time to time looking at purses but couldn’t remember if I’d purchased one or not.  Turns out it was two of them.  I used to have a thing for shoes, now I have a thing for purses.  I tend to stick to the same few pairs of shoes because I need more sole stability now.  I do miss high heels but will survive. 

I’m not a ditz all the time.  Just when I’m tired of thinking, tired of being a grown up or just plain tired in general.  Not to brag, but I’m actually fairly intelligent.  I just choose to allocate that intelligence as needed then hide behind masks such as sarcasm, ditziness (It can be hard work to act vacuous or vapid) or churlishness.  I’ve been taken advantage of many times it’s easier when people think I’m far too dim witted to do something to be of use to them.  I don’t want people in my life who want to use me and abuse me.   I want people in my life who value me, who can put up with all my masks and allow me to drop the masks at times.  I like being able to be counted on by friends with whom I share a mutual respect.  I don’t act ditzy at work either.  I have done this in the past to avoid crappy shifts at a crappy job when I was a teenager. 

The song Because I’m a Blonde could, at times, be my anthem (aside from the fact that I’m not blonde). A certain level of ditziness can help mask pain too; both emotional and physical.  When I’m spending time with certain people I hide behind a wall of stupidity.  It’s easier to have them become angry because they think I’m an idiot, than it is to allow them to take out their usual hateful aggression on me simply because I’m around.  I can hear the clucking now.  I have indeed told these people I don’t like being treated the way they treat me.  I have stood up for myself a countless number of times, all to no avail.  I choose my battles and battling once again for mutual respect isn’t worth it to me.  I’d rather just cower for a few days in abject stupidity pondering when the next basket weaving class might form up.  There is no escaping spending some amount of time with these people, otherwise I’d be all over it!  The  people who mistake me for stupid often show how ignorant they truly are, thus leading to a lot of hilarity when their own idiocy trips them up in public.  Every so often I enjoy popping off with a level of knowledge they don’t think I possess.  The look on their faces is priceless. 

Having a ditz or a pseudo-ditz in your life is a must.  I have had ditzes in my life and I’ve been the ditz.  I am of course totally stupid, and an absolute ditz and quite possibly the worst parent on the planet at the moment, for I have a teenaged child.  I have been assured by other people who seem reasonably smart and fairly reliable that by the time he’s 25 or so, I will become less stupid and he will actually ask my advice.  I am hoping this is true and not a fairy tale told to give me a false sense of hope.  If it’s true then I am gonna be pretty darn ditzy for a really long time then! 

Let them eat cake

Or pie...pie is good too...oh but so are cookies and some ice-cream and other frozen desserts....

Well, it’s finally happened.  My son is 17.  I am 25 again.  We’ve survived another year of birthdays, anniversaries, and all those celebrations involving cake as we head into the holidays.  Everyone loves Christmas or Easter, a lot of people love Thanksgiving or the 4^th of July.  Memorial day and labor day picnics are a must for most people.  We are not most people.  I am not most people.  I prefer a nice shady dark cool corner somewhere.  I must have been a spider or other cool, dark corner dweller.  Perhaps I was a resident of the desert with no rain and approximately 20 hours of sunlight with temps in the low 200’s.  At any rate, in our household cake season is on hold from June to Oct.  Thusly I have decided to relocate my birthday to a more acceptable month in order to spread out cakery. 

I am thinking August. 

In June we have Annibirfather’s day  (anniversary, Husband’s birthday (yes someone was crazy enough to marry me) and Father’s day)  One year I forgot what day it was and failed to wish my husband a happy birthday upon first sight.  He looked crushed and said “Well??”  I was all like “What?”  Then he told me it was his birthday.  I proudly announced No, your birthday is tomorrow.  He asked me the date of his birthday (yep I knew it) I told him and he said “that’s today” again in airhead mode I was all like “Omg it’s so totally not!”  I’ll check my phone.  That damn backstabbing piece of technology agreed with him about the date!  That jerky phone!  Warranty my butt.  I turned on the news, looked at a paper…I pulled out all the stops.  Everything  in the world had banded together with him in some wicked “fool the wife” prank leaving me totally confused.  I meekly wished him a happy birthday and scuttled off to make or procure a cake.  Since June is very cake heavy with Anniversary, followed one week later by birthday, then Father’s day about a week after that.  I get one cake for the target birthdate, unless we are jonesing for frosting, then I use the earlier date.  If other desserts have entered our lives I may go all wild and post pone it until Father’s day.  

Then boom…….dearth of cake.

July is a berryish month with cookies and halva or something else kind of light and or frozen

August is frozen confections, sherbet, ice cream, fruit bars, fresh fruit, cookies 

September is back to school drown your teenage tears in this lovely cake, but don’t cry on my side of the frosting.

October my son and I have birthdates one day apart.  His is literally the next day.  He likes one kind of frosting, I like another.

November is pieish

December is every dessert not nailed down

January, still mopping up desserts from December

February is Valentine’s day cake

March or April is Easter cake, the other is whatever cake I end up making

May is Mother’s day cake and Kitty’s birthday.  Pao doesn’t really eat cake, but he does like real whipped cream and likes cakes made of his favorite food with a pup-peroni  stuck in the top.

That eventually returns us to the fact that there is a stretch from July through August seriously devoid of cake.  I must sacrifice my birthday for the greater good of cake-kind..  There will be frosting roses in August and they will be mine, mine, all mine!!  Until I cut the first slice then share it around.  I’m not a total cake hog! 

Well, I’m another year older, I’d like to say wiser but I’m not sure.  According to recent research conducted by my son on a bad day I am “senseless and irresponsible” because I did something to upset young master tyrant.  I have also been told just how often I’m ruining his life…which seems to be whenever I utter the word “No”.  I have learned a few new things this year, such as temping is a lot of fun in the right environment.  I think I prefer temping to actual full time employment status.  Temping allows me to say no if I’m having a bad run of things.  I’m also learning new things at everyplace and refreshing my skills.  I have learned that cat bites don’t infect if properly bled and then licked by said biter.  In his defense he was chewing his own nails and mine got in the way.  He decided it was high time I learn to chew my nails like a proper cat.  I’ve totally digressed….

So my new birthday is in August.  I am not yet sure of the day but I may float the day based on what desserts we have on hand.  I must plan ahead!  Cake is serious business and not to be purchased or made frivolously! 

Rage Against the Machine(s)

There are some days I just know, without a doubt, that if I touch something things will go horribly awry.  My powers of fuckupitedness can also rub off on others should they touch any machine after I’ve used it on one of “those” days.  I’m not sure if my hands are too cold, if my case of bitchy resting face, my lack of machine competence or my fear of the monster that lives in the printer rubs off on the machine and is picked up like a virus by others, or if I somehow place a hex on the machines after I touch one.   There are days I don’t even have to touch a machine, the mere suggestion of it is enough to make the poor thing start spewing out gibberish and die before I even send document one to a printer. 

There are times I know, without a doubt I’ve sent one copy of one document only to a printer only to have the thing give me 5 copies of a different document, one that isn’t even open.  I’ve sent one test label to the label printer only to have it print out on the normal printer.  I have no idea how that happened.  After a printer mishap I go back to my computer to look at my logical progression, of events but this answers no questions and often leads me to hold myself and say “why, why, why?”

I tried literally 9 times to print one label a few days ago.  I could not get one scan off it.  Labels must pass with an A, B or C grade.  When I did get an accidental scan it was an F.  Another person, the printer whisperer, got my labels to print from her computer with perfect A’s?!  We both used the same settings.  I had her come over to lay hands on my computer in hopes that she could exorcise the demon that surely must be camped out inside there a long with the little guy who runs the bytes of data back and forth on slow days.   Even her powers of perfection were no match for my anti-machine powers.  I had the manager come over to complain at my computer, berate it and reset the margins.  It worked for her and for me too.  I even got one A.  Then the next batch of labels came time to be printed.  Once again the computer possession was in full force.  I’m not saying that it was speaking in demonic voices or anything but I’m certain that if there is print work to be done in hell that a manual I must have written will be there to instruct all the machines on proper etiquette.   I think I heard the scanner laugh as I approached it with the labels then utter a “None Shall Pass”. None didst pass.  I gamely followed the written margins the printer whisper gave me despite being told that we should never have to change the margins.  

It worked….then the printer ran out of labels.  I learned how to change the labels.  Later that same day, it ran out of ribbon.  Then it decided to skip a few labels.  As the day progressed the printer started taking in papers in a staggered manner printing one page over the span of two because two sheets were being sucked in with a staggered space.  I took out the drawer, reset the paper and went on.  Then it got a two tray one door paper jam.  I fixed that.  At that point I was simply daring the master of machines to strike me down with toner aplenty and douse me in shredded bits of misprinted paper.  I did not care, I had reached a document with 666 in the title and figured that was my best and only chance to zap the demons from the machines and really get them where it hurt.  I would successfully print a group of documents with the currently accepted mark of the beast and dare the printers and computer to harm me.  They printed out fine.  

“Temp”-orary Insanity

I have been a stay at home wife and Mother for the most part of 16 years now.  I did quite a bit of volunteering during the early years of my son’s illustrious school career (totally sarcastic).  I helped out where I could with some of the sports he played and did the whole family thing. 

Now I find myself so far out of the workforce that the edgier skills I had are all completely dated and outmoded.  I don’t have enough work credits to qualify for social security or medicare when my time comes.  I never thought I’d be the age I am and wonder what I want to be when I grow up.  I never realized that a person had to have a certain number of work credits to qualify for social security and medicare.  I thought they just sort of “happened” when you hit 65 or so.  I was completely wrong!

In order to get back in the working world and dip my toes in the water; I have turned to temping.  I am currently on my second assignment.  The first lasted three months and I have no idea how long this assignment will last, it’s rumored they like me.  I am fully enjoying it and do hope it lasts as long as it can before this company has to return me to the agency pool.

If you have never done temporary work before, it’s like this;

• 1.)    You are like a red shirt on Star Trek…you know you will be written out, you just don’t know that will happen
• 2.)    They really DO count on you when the chips are down and there are deadlines to meet. 
• 3.)    You have to go with the flow.  You have to learn many new skills, adapt quickly and smoothly and do it all with a smile on your face while eagerly asking for more, all while knowing that you have a much shorter shelf life than a twinkie with the company you are contracted to work for.
• 4.)    You have to be on time and work the full time, you shouldn’t milk the clock, word may spread.
• 5.)    You don’t fit in.  Do the best you can to follow along with the conversation, get to know the people you work with, but not all day.   No matter how engaging you think you are….you simply will never be “one of them”. 
• 6.)    We ALL make mistakes and you have to own up to them more so than regular employees of the company do.  Great managers will help you correct your mistakes, learn from them and move on. 
• 7.)    You really are appreciated, especially if your work is good and you take the work seriously.

I am enjoying temp work.  I’ve learned some very good new skills and dusted off some rarely used older skills.  During the first assignment I got thrown into the deep end of typing.  Since my spinal cord ding, I’ve not been the most rapid or accurate typist.  I am MUCH better now since the data entry assignment.  During this assignment I am learning all about how orders for stores get from place to place, a lot of the little things that go into you getting that shirt with your favorite team….the Missabamaflorianalinan Cthulu Chaps….logo on the front and how to help make that happen. 

There are some signs that you should break up with an employer too, as bad as that sounds. 

• 1.)    Job not as described
• 2.)    Hours not as described
• 3.)    Abusive work conditions
• 4.)    Inadequate management or no training to do the job you were contracted to do
• 5.)    Management has little to no control over employees
• 6.)    Lack of clear leadership
• 7.)    Unsafe or illegal working conditions

Those are some serious violations and put everyone at risk.  Temp jobs like that tend to sour many people on the entire temp experience.  My first temp job in data entry in Feb had some management issues, but I was fine working around those.  I had to call it quits just under three months into it (expiration date anyway) because the hours and job description totally changed.  It was no longer as described and wasn’t something I could adequately handle.  I think the best way to handle it,  is to discuss  your need to quit, in person with the company you are performing temp services for.  Let them know why you feel the need to quit, they may respond positively and keep your job as stated for the remainder of your assignment.  Thank them for giving you a chance; leave them with a good impression of you.  Immediately upon quitting contact your agency.  Tell them what happened with the job description.  Explain that you quit and you did so because the position or hours significantly changed, or the work area was unsafe…etc.  It is a violation of their contract to change a job description or hours without notifying the temporary agency of the job change. 

I feel kind of like Mary Poppins.  I never know where I will go or what I will be doing.   I go where the wind blows! 

If you are a temp, you know a temp, or you ever were one you can understand this feeling of impermanence but also some of the rewards of being part of something big in a time of need.  

Giant Toddlers

I have a toddler.  He throws tantrums when he's told "no".  He gets very cranky when he's tired and starts arguing for no reason.  He insists he isn't tired when he so clearly is that it's hilarious.  There is always some strange food concoction that he's making.  I find a trail of messes in every room he enters.  There are leftover drink containers in his room and in strange places.  I find the oddest things he's written, drawn or done.  He argues incessantly and I swear half the time he's one step away from saying "give me some choices".  He listens to the worst music and swears it's great. He has a favorite pillow and blanket.  The toddler does strange things with bed linens.  He doesn't seem to understand the concept of keeping top sheets on a bed or putting the correct size sheet on a bed.  The toddler eats breakfast, lunch, dinner one and dinner two.  He drinks about 2 gallons of milk per week.  He also dresses funny.

I remember when Elmo's world used to soothe him into a gentle nap. I'd have an hour or two of peace and quiet from noon to 1 or 2.    I kind of wish he'd take a nap at a normal bedtime...say midnight?  Gee, midnight?  Isn't that a little late for a toddler to be heading to bed?  For toddlers of a certain age, yes, it is indeed very late for a 2 or 3 year old to head to bed.  When your toddler however is 16 years old, midnight is a pretty normal bedtime.  I used to think so at least.  If I can wrangle xbox controllers, phones, and soda cans out of his hands and order him to bed at 1:30 it's a lucky night/morning.  He's taken to watching netflix as he gently falls asleep on the game room floor.  The problem is the fact that he wakes up and keeps turning on new episodes of binge watch shows.  He usually doesn't fall asleep until sometime near 3 or 4 am...then he's a surly, snarcastic brat the rest of the day.  He manages to drag his carcass out of bed about 12-1pm.  Then declares himself starving. He has second dinner about 1 or 2 in the morning.

There are nights he's hanging on by a thread of sanity.  He will get so overtired that he starts arguing for the sake of arguing.  It all reminds me of the days when he's go running away screaming at the top of his lungs that he was tired and didn't want to take a nap.  He's using the same logic he used then.  during potty training he'd have a diaper so full he was bowlegged.  He'd then go running away screaming that he hadn't gone to the bathroom in his diaper or pull up.  I'd give chase, His 2-3 year old lies were so transparent.  Much like his 16 year old lies, they are pointless, they don't do anything to further him and they are usually pretty transparent.

I had a verbal exchange (can't even call it a conversation because there was no logic) with him a couple of days ago I could have sworn we had this same exchange when he was 3.  "Mom can I....?" ,  "No, you can't."  "But Why!?", "because I said you can't.", "BUT WHY",  "You know exactly why.  You didn't clean your room, you disobeyed, you were very argumentative.", "what if I do that now?", "No.  It's too late.  I already asked you to do it, but you refused." , "But why can't I go out?",  "I have already told you.  I am through with this discussion now.", "BUT WHY?!  It's not fair!" , "No, it isn't fair that you don't do what you are supposed to do then want favors.  I'm tired of this subject." ,  "You aren't even making any sense, me not doing my chores has no bearing on me not being able to go out.  Why can't I go?" , "Because I said no.", "But WHY?!", "because, because, because, because I said NO!", "those aren't reasons those are just words, You don't have any reasons you are just saying this because you KNEW I wanted to go out."......this just goes on.  Eventually the large toddler stomps off in a huff, begrudgingly does his chores, then shows up to apologize because, "I could hear myself being a jerk but I just couldn't stop."  Then the over tired toddler has a snack and a nap.

This is what 16 looks like in this house anyway. I don't remember being quite this irrational at 16, but I am a girl.  I remember questionable decisions at that age.  I remember that everything was "the worst thing in the world" or "the best thing in the world".  We were like  strange pendulums of emotion back then with teased hair, lots of hairspray and brightly colored hair.  I think teentoddlerism has been going on for years.  I just don't think anyone talks about it.

I may survive the terrible twos part two

It made sense at the time......

We have the worst luck when it comes to repairing housey things.  Not meaning "we" as in my husband or me, being fairly sane we'd like our home to remain standing, so we don't actually repair anything.  Changing a light bulb is challenging enough, plugging something in usually goes well also.  We're in the clear for putting up Christmas things as long as we have cup hooks, thumb tacks, command adhesive, tape and superglue.  We also need twine to tie the Christmas tree to the wall so our 13 year old Siamese doesn't knock it down in the yearly  "climb the tree to conquer the festive shiny ball"  ritual.  He has also been known to enter the twine chewing competition.  I digress...

It made sense at the time to get new shingles, the others did look like crap.  They have been trying to sell us a new roof since we moved in.  "shingles are only meant to last 20 years you know".  "really?. That's odd....this house was only built in 2005"  That response of mine has been met with blank stares since we moved in in 2008.  It's true, the shingles were a shambles and have been for years.  We bit the bullet and decided it was time to really invest in our house, thus we were lured in by a promising guarantee, bonded and licensed roofers and the assurance of a solid set of shingles to see us through the next 50 years.  We scheduled the roofing for the next available date, about 2 weeks out.

Recently we had some carpet laid.  That install went into the category of comically late.  A few years ago we had a redundant (literally 10 feet separated the sliding glass door wall and the kitchen sliding glass door, same wall) sliding glass door wall replaced with a window from Majic, they can do majic in making your money and sanity disappear.  I can't complain about the quality of the window at all.  It's great really.  I don't work for the company, are you kidding, I'm a barely passable housewife...work...hahaha.  All kidding aside about them.  They did show up on time, they did a good, clean install, the window was pricey, but worth it.  The lost sanity and lost money came from us...yes us, husband and wife, of the un-handy family, having to finish and paint the drywall under the window, and pain the siding outside under the window to match the house.  The house has an attractive white panel under the window on our otherwise blue and brick house.  I told you we were bad at home repairs.  The few home repairs we've done started with the window, next came the carpet with the epic delay.  Today......the roof.

My loving yet unhandy husband sent me a text late last week announcing the impending roofing on Monday morning.  Friday I heard hammering on the roof.  Convinced the zombie apocalypse was upon us and they were entering via the roof I hid behind the sofa waiting for it to stop.  I then mustered up the courage to go upstairs and investigate by staring out my son's window.  They were dropping off supplies in the yard for the looming roofing.  I felt relief wash over me!  I have nowhere near enough food stockpiled for the zombie apocalypse.  It rained over the weekend, the 3 sheets of particleboard or presswood, whatever handy people call it, were left lying on the grass.  This little bit of Murphy's Law did not bode well.

Yesterday the roofers were supposed to arrive at 8:30 am.  Surprisingly 8:30 comes twice in one day in the summer too.  I thought this might be the case, but was unsure.  I've been a stay at home mom so long I thought maybe that rule, policy or basic tenet might have changed too.  I set the alarm for 8:00 am, planning to have a cup of coffee, brush my teeth and take off the crazy house night gown,  (I have a nightgown I love which strongly resembles something an inmate at a mental facility would wear.  The blood stains on the shoulder result from a nasty miscommunication between my shoulder, Kung Pao and the window) and change into something more appropriate to greet humans in.  I was milling about preparing to take apart a sink, literally, when the phone rang with a particularly mocking nasty ring at 8:44am.  I perked up trying to sound chipper.  In my heart I knew what that little ugly ring meant.  That mocking ring, meant they weren't coming or were going to be 10 hours late.  The lady politely informed me that they would have to reschedule the install due to the predicted thunderstorms in the area.  That was a really reasonable excuse, aside from the fact that it was sunny in my town and there was no predicted thunderstorm until late that night.  Storms were, however, predicted in the area where the office is located, in another county about an hour away from me. They weren't to be roofing the office so I thought it might have been poor planning on the scheduler's part to not check the weather in the actual install area.  The nice lady told me they would be out today (Tuesday 7/14/15) unless rain was predicted.  I lamely said "Ok", knowing fully well that rain was predicted for Tuesday after I checked my handy weather app.  I busied myself with the sink project, pvc pipe is just easier to take apart and scrub to remove gunk than it is to use liquid plumber.  Sink went well, and I remembered to use all the parts and put them in pretty much the right places.  It doesn't link and it does drain.  The little stopper doohickey even works too!

I didn't bother setting an alarm this morning, didn't give a shit about coffee, the crazy house gown, or brushed hair.  I felt like I'd been put through a grinder, so I knew weather was approaching.  (not old, just slightly dented) For some reason known only to God (who I am now convinced only wants us to do home repairs when he's having a rough day in heaven so he gets a good laugh looking in on us) I woke up just before 8:00 am.  I roamed around downstairs, made sure the sink wasn't leaking yet, got coffee, looked out at the birds building a nest on my porch, then stopped dead in my tracks as a cold finger ran down my spine.  A van was pulling up to the house near one already out front.  I went upstairs to get dressed and glance again at the weather app, it still predicted heavy showers.  I got dressed then went to stare suspiciously out my window, wondering if Mormons had upgraded to vans, or if the Jehovah's Witnesses would be getting into a row on my front yard (we have a yard, not a lawn...something is terribly wrong with people who have no weeds).  To my horror, I discovered, roofing was about to happen.  The project started well before 8:30am.  About 9 or so the foreman introduced himself and told me they'd be done by early afternoon, providing the rain held out, otherwise they'd have to come back tomorrow.  I looked at him, looked at the sky and said lamely "Ok".  A few hours later the first wave of rain hit.  They continued roofing.  There was more rain and more roofing.  I ventured a glance out my son's window and saw the bare wood on our roof, along with the areas being covered.  About an hour after that THE RAIN came.  I watched a torrent of it pour off a hastily draped tarp along the roof valley, hopefully shielding the bare wood. All the roofers hid on the front porch out of the rain.  The rain stopped, roofing resumed.

I checked roofing sites off and on all day regarding the advisability of roofing in the rain.  It seemed a tossup.  We do have the parts and labor warranty.  We figure if the roof has some catastrophic failure or we develop leaks we can call them on it.  I plan to let the company know tomorrow the conditions under which the roofing was laid down so that's in our file.  I also took photos of the work and the sky.

Roofing has now officially stopped a mere 13 and a half hours after it started.  Early afternoon my behind.  If any work is being done on our house, no matter how long the job is supposed to take, it will take twice as long and have snafu's.  Tomorrow I will check on the lavender, the roses, the coneflowers and the Arizona suns...the only yardy things we care about were probably stomped upon during roofing.