One Down....5 More To Go!

Yesterday this semester ended and I actually made it! I had my doubts about getting the last of the assignments in, but I persevered and sure enough..they got in. So it's one semester down and 5 more to go to a Bachelor's Degree. And..maybe not even 5, maybe only four, it depends on rescuing 3 lousy little credits from another school. But I'll do it, even if they are holding them hostage for $50. Which I might add is a rip-off from them, but that's another story I'm not getting into here. At least, not right now. I don't want to spoil my mood, which is good. And, trust me, we want to keep those good moods going in me.

Maybe I'll just update from other posts here since I'm not feeling anything witty or biting to write about. The nursing home saga I started here at the beginning of March is coming to a close, well at least the first chapter of it. Harold's been in a skilled facility having physical therapy every day to help him learn to walk with a walker. And he's a tough old bird. He continually proves me wrong. When he ended up in ER after falling down steps and lying there for 27 hours I thought he'd die in the hospital. He was the closest thing to death imaginable. Everything was giving out and he had that bone cancer to boot. So a couple of doses of chemo and dear old Humana made him leave the hospital because he was 'improving'. Off he went to the only nursing home they'd pay for, which was a hole and within three days they managed to tear down two weeks worth of fixing. Back to the hospital. Then to a skilled nursing facility which is where he's been for awhile now. I never thought he'd ever walk again.

I'll be damned! Then one day he was up walking with the assistance of a walker. Weeks worth of physical therapy actually paid off. The verdict came down: he's getting better so let's kick him out. So, now the assisted living facility. That would be up here where we live. Which is good, not so much city running. But, that means moving some of his home furniture to a small apartment here in a nursing home. April 13th has been deemed the day he must leave. Hmm....Jeez what a day to be doing something like that!

Last week the doctors discovered my mom has lung cancer. That was a diagnosis out of nowhere I didn't think would happen. Sort of like getting slapped with a giant invisible hand across the face when you least expected it. I have no idea where that will go, but I had two sisters die from lung cancer. It was awful to watch. I'm not looking forward to that again. But....that was 14 years ago I think they've improved treatments. And since I always see the glass half empty I'm expecting the worst.

Uhmm....Oh! I am so vindicated on this mouse saga! Again we smelled rotting little bodies only this time they were in the basement. Dear hubby goes down to search for them, only to find a nest of mom and her babies all curled up dead. In a way it was kind of sad, in another I'm friggin' happy about it because of all their mess they left behind. Little shits! So guess what he found in the nest with them? The DCon sacks! Remember I told you he laughed at me when I thought they took the bag too? Uhuh....well....they DID take the bags!! Two of them to be exact, right there in mom's little mouse home. I wanted to be all smug. I wanted to strut around the house with my chest puffed out. Men...they think they know EVERYTHING! But did I point that out to him?? No I kept my mouth shut and was all smug inside my brain. Damnit!

Maggie has been sick lately. I was relieved when the announcement of the tainted pet foods didn't include hers. Then they came out with the brand I was feeding her, Alpo. But..it was the food in gravy, which isn't what they get fed. That's when the puking started. I immediately threw it all away. Why take chances? Hell, that could be tainted too they just don't know it yet. I started cooking for them instead. She was still a little Puke Monster for a week. Finally I went to our vet and was telling him about it. He asked, "Well did you change foods?"

"Well yes, I started cooking for her but she's still sick."

He looks thoughtful, "What are you cooking for her?"

"Well, ground beef, peas, diced potatoes in mushroom sauce."

He's nodding his head and says, "How much did you make?"

"Oh I made a whole pot full to last, why?"

"Sounds delicious, do you have any left?"

I laughed at him. I told him I did but yesterday they got some of the Easter dinner.

He perks up, 'What was that?"

"Spiral cut ham with honey spiced glaze, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, rolls, sweet potatoes, why?"

Shakes his head practically in tears...."Damn, I wish I ate that good!"

What a funny man. I did ask him what dog food I would be safe giving and he told me he wouldn't use any of them right now. The lists change so fast he can't even keep up with them. "Keep cooking for them, it's safer." Isn't that a helluva note? You can't trust anybody anymore. Today it's dogs and cats with tainted food. How long before it's our food? What is the PROBLEM people??? At this rate my dogs will NEVER go back to dog food even if it's good in the future. Why should they? I'm cooking them homemade meals!

Make God Laugh....Tell Him Your Plans...

This picture was taken almost 18 years ago when we made a move to our location now. And it was one of the happiest days of my life. It was on November 4, 1989 and fortunately for us the weather cooperated. This is our whole family posing by the real estate sign that said sold. We were first time homeowners and extremely excited about it too. I have this photo framed at my desk as a reminder of happier times in my life. I was sailing on cloud nine that day, sore from moving, by high none the less.

It was a major move for us. In fact it was life altering for everyone in the family. It meant leaving our hometown and all our family, including our friends, great neighbors, great doctors who were family friends and a good job. To taking a plunge from the big city to a small town and a new business and try to make it work. It meant uprooting our three kids from 7-11 years old from their schools, grandparents and cousins. It was a pretty emotional time but one I was really looking forward to. For me it was a much needed adventure in my life. And even though through the years we talked many times of selling everything and going back home we never did, we stuck it out and sometimes not for the better. Maybe we should have thrown the towel in years ago. And somewhere along the way Kansas City stopped being home and Chillicothe took its place. I'm not sure when that happened. Along the way most of the extended family members died and our hometown of Parkville changed dramatically. Even after the kids grew up and moved away we still talked about moving back but this time it was a lot less serious. Usually it was a passing comment during frustrated moments. Nothing really serious. But life has a way of pulling the rug out from under your best laid plans. Sometimes I think God just likes to fuck with me for a good laugh. I must be one of his preferred individuals for entertainment purposes. He and I are really going to have to sit down and have a nice long discussion when I go back home. What's that saying, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans'? Yep, that's the one.

We told him our plans, more than once I might add and he laughed so hard he created great thunderstorms in our life.

Dwight's mom died back in 2005 after being in a nursing home with Alzheimer's for four years. His dad is 86 years old and over the years since her death he's been on a steady decline. Each time we'd see him he'd make it a point to tell us he had been to the doctor and he was healthy and there wasn't a thing wrong with him. He look like he'd died, kept losing weight and couldn't walk very well but his mind was still pretty good. "I'm the picture of health!" he'd remind us. I kept thinking, "Jeez what doctor believes that?" In retrospect we see that he was afraid, if we knew, we'd stick him in a nursing home. And the irony of the situation is that now he really is in one. If we'd of known exactly how bad he was, steps might have been taken to get him help to stay in his own home longer. But that's not going to happen.

Back in late January he fell down the steps at his home and laid there for more than a day before we found him. I wrote about it in depth here as my very first post call Nursing Home Blues. So the saga of the nursing home still goes on. My husband and I usually take turns going down to the city to see him. The last time was Dwight's turn. And when he came home after two days he had made some major decisions. Some of those life changing decisions like we had made in 1989. I didn't even see this one coming and I'm usually the one that smells them coming or at least I get an inkling. Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I was blindsided.

We had talked on several occasions about what to do with Harold's home in Liberty but it was just between us as husband and wife. A few weeks after he'd gone into the hospital the neighbors would come over wanting to know if we would be selling the house That was when Harold was so bad we didn't think he'd make it out of the hospital alive. But he's been progressing each day and getting stronger. Not strong enough he will ever be able to live in that house again, but he is progressing just the same. Still we've discussed what to do with his house. Dwight came home and I was a bit surprised at what he had pretty much decided would need to be done while he was there alone surveying the situation. In other words he spent time wondering and then spent time in each room and area of the house. Determining what needs to go and what needs to stay and the minor repairs to be able to bring market value to that house.

The original plan was he would go back and work in the city. He'd been thinking of getting out of his line of work to some extent and possibly going back to his original job as they told him they would be having some openings when cooling season picked up along about May. His plan was to live in his dad's house through the week and I'd stay here, this way we'd keep both homes. At least as long as Harold was still alive.

Apparently after his last trip and talking with his dad he has suggested that the house may have to be sold. The POTENTIAL plan is to liquidate both homes. Ours and his dad's. Plus consolidating the two houses contents as much as possible. This means deciding what to keep from both homes and possibly buying another one. If he can get work at his old job his plan is to move as close to KC as possible. You cannot begin to fathom what a HUGE job this will be. And nothing in our life ever runs smoothly. It usually just crawls along until a change comes and then it picks up speed like a locomotion. That's what happened in 1989. All of a sudden it was a done deal and time to move.

I tried to prepare but I still wasn't ready for us to begin moving when the day came to move things. As I was in the basement preparing my birds to be moved my entire living room and dining room furniture disappeared. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and the only thing left was a chest and it left as I was standing there. For some reason this unnerved me. I felt as if I had lost all control. What control I felt I needed over that situation I don't know. I called my sister crying saying, "It's all flying out of the house! If you want to see us before we leave you better hurry down!" I felt like I'd never see all of my things again that somehow it would get lost between there and here. No matter how much you prepare and how organized you try to be you still have no clue where your crap is for months.

So the possibility is very real that all of a sudden I'll be leaving Chillicothe. Maybe not for many months but no matter when it happens, or if it happens, I won't be prepared. And I'll need to figure out what must go and how to get rid of it. I know I'm too old for a move that takes one or two days. AND I'm too unorganized. Not only do I need to decide what in my house needs to go I have to decide what must go in the other house. Then how to get rid of stuff, give away, garage sale or auction? That means repairs on the homes and then real estate agents. I hate listing my house with a realtor. Of course people come in to look and since I'm a really private person I always feel violated after they're gone. We've even talked about auctioning it off and being done with it just to avoid involving a realtor.

Actually I never expected to go back to the city. And maybe it won't work out that we do, but it is certainly looking like it right now. And it won't be quick, it will be a long drawn out affair. There is one thing about moving, it forces you to get rid of some of your crap. And we're pack rats. Plus his parents were also pack rats AND collectors. They collected things they erroneously thought would be worth money in the future. Not true. Plus they inherited another couples home and contents nearly 20 years ago which they integrated a lot of the contents of that house into their own. You can really have too much stuff. Then it becomes shit. Makes me think of George Carlin's act about your stuff and other peoples shit.

I'm probably making a mistake writing about this stuff too soon. But it's so overwhelming that writing about it is kind of like purging a bit. This way I have more mental room to ponder about it.

These Aren't Mickey & Minnie Mouse I'm Battling!

Mice.

Usually people are battling them as it's getting cold when they come in looking for shelter and food. So why am I all of a sudden plagued by mice like it's the medieval days? Good question but I still don't know the answer. I just know that I've got a big mouse problem and it's gross. And growing.

I've been seeing their little calling cards laying around here and there throughout the winter. But living (sort of) out in the country I learned a long time ago that we would be getting visits from all kinds of unpleasant creatures. Such as those huge horrible spiders that I think they call wood spiders or tree spiders. I'm not sure about that but my grandmother told me that they come around when you live on a farm or have a lot of trees on your property. And since we live where the houses are spread far apart and there are woods surrounding us to some extent I learned quickly that we deal with spiders, snakes and mice. Not to mention the raccoons and opossums that wander onto your deck or rummage around in your trash cans looking for food. The first time I saw one of those spiders I about had heart failure at his size. His body was as big as or bigger than a quarter and that didn't include his hairy legs. My grandmother said, "Well step on him! You're bigger than he is!" My response was something like, "Are you kidding? What if he grabs my foot and twists it off?" So she goes stomping out there with her "grandmother" shoes and knocks him to the ground and plows her foot straight down on top of him with all her might. Spider innards went squirting out from each side of her foot as she gave me a disapproving look like, "You city people are such babies!"

We're not city people anymore! Now I deal with critters. So on Monday after dropping mom off at the grocery store for her 2 hour shopping trip (that is another story altogether) I came home to work on a paper for school. I opened my front door to be assaulted with Mice Smell! I wrinkled my nose and waved my hand back and forth in front of my face trying to dissipate the odor. "Oh My God! Where is that horrid smell coming from?" I call Dwight to report the offensive smell and he informs me that he smelled it too before leaving and discovered that a mouse must have crawled under the fridge and died. He further informs me that a few nights before he had heard the fan in the fridge make a clunking noise and something fell. Then Toby sat there with his head cocked staring at the refrigerator for a long while. He believes a mouse may have met his death in the fan and is now lying there bloating up and smelling like something the CSI team might investigate. Ah the smell of decomp.

Great. Just friggin' wonderful.

The night before we had bought new traps and baited them with cheese and sat them in the office, the kitchen and the living room. By morning we had emptied them and reset them again. Ah, the power of cheese! The little bastards have been on my desk rummaging around and shredding up precious pictures. I've been scanning them and have laid them aside not expecting mice to chew them up. Plus I have a room where I burn incense, light candles and just listen to music or meditate. It's got lots of pillows on the floor and some book shelves. The little shits have been on my bookshelves leaving their 'presents' for me. Wandering over my tarot bags making them smell "mousey". I feel so violated! So this is war. These aren't Mickey and Minnie Mouse. They must DIE!

I suggested Dwight bring up the older vacuum that has paper bags we can throw away afterwards. I use it downstairs to suck up bird seed and this way we can just toss it out. I heard him yell and come stumbling up the steps with it. "What in heavens name is wrong?"

"No less than 5 baby mice ran out of the vacuum just now. We're overrun with mice!" He was shocked and horrified.

Pulling out the fridge revealed an apparent mouse cemetery. Why we haven't smelled the little bastards after they died is beyond me. I don't even want to think we got used to the odor. I don't think that's it. I think the DCon we put out last year dried them up after they died before they could rot. Oh my God it was a disgusting mess. The back had to come off the refrigerator and a mouse nest removed. It took hours to clean it all up. While he did that I busied myself rearranging our bedroom. I really didn't want to participate in the mouse fiasco.

We decided we needed to pull a President Bush and order a Shock and Awe against the mouse population in our home. We set traps everywhere we could think of. Downstairs around the bird cages, traps got set. Some with cheese and some with peanut butter. They seem to like the seed the birds throw on the floor. I also set one in my "room" downstairs. It didn't take long, maybe overnight and the traps filled up. Snapping every few hours. We'd hear them snap and then laugh maniacally. The piles of DCon are rapidly disappearing. There isn't any point in going through and cleaning up after them until they're all gone. I'm amazed and disgusted at the same time at how many there are and we're still killing them.

Apparently they're coming in around the electrical feed through the conduit which seems to have separated. Then they run down through the electrical box and into the house. This particular piece of conduit cannot be gotten to without ripping off the deck. They seem to breed like rabbits. I thought it was bad last year when we seemed to be overwhelmed by ants but mice really take the cake. No pun intended.

If this doesn't get rid of them I may have to call General Norman Schwarzkopf and get some tips on winning this war. I'm just horrified.