texts with my husband

by

Wordy Wednesday Wandering

June was a whirlwind, wasn’t it? I am still trying to wrap my mind around how it can possibly be July already. The past few days alone included: picking up my child from sleepaway camp, observing a belated Father’s Day with my husband, buying a new car, getting a new air conditioner installed, and celebrating my daughter’s birthday. For those of you who have been around since I was on the fence about having kids: THE KID IS NOW THIRTEEN.

I could only find the “birthday” portion of the “happy birthday” banner, which I think it more of an indication of my current level of discombobulation than lack of delight at my kiddo becoming a teenager.

I have been doing SO MUCH laundry, and there is stuff (camp stuff, gift detritus, air conditioner replacement debris) everywhere, and I cannot stay on top of the mess.

This looks much neater and tidier than it FEELS. It FEELS like being slowly suffocated on all sides by Stuff.

(Alert, alert: Lisa and Nicole, you may want to skip the next two paragraphs and the photo between them.)

The air conditioner replacement was a fun surprise. I scheduled a simple clean-and-check with my HVAC company, and the technician discovered that all the wiring had been devastated by mice. In fact, the only thing that was preventing the wires from being exposed completely was a giant mouse nest. I think you know how I feel about this, which is burn it all down.

How can something so small and kind of cute be so destructive?!?!

We’d already spent a pretty penny to deal with previous mouse-related air conditioning carnage, back in April of 2024, and it was one of those deals where we could shell out a bunch of money to repair the old unit, which could of course die at any moment and has already proved much too welcoming to rodents… or shell out more money for a new, slightly-more-mouse-resistant unit. Considering this week is in the 90s (30s C), we went with the latter option.

The air conditioner is not doing a whole lot for the top floor yet. Carla slept with her camp fan clipped to her bedframe last night. It really does a great job of cooling. (We got it for camp because it is one of the few options that requires only batteries, and not some sort of USB charger to keep it powered on.) Several of the stores we’ve been to recently have been selling fans, which makes me feel like I need more fans. But Carla and I plan to spend as much time in or near the pool as possible, as a heat-beating measure. She has a new turtle pool float and I have pool hammocks to lounge in and copious amounts of sunscreen.

REAL FEEL ONE-OH-FIVE. No thank you.

I have been exploring all the delicious options for hot-weather meals that involve no cooking whatsoever; we had chickpea salad sandwiches last night, on homemade sourdough bread that my husband’s colleague sent home with him. I am planning on making a cold noodle salad later this week, or a Mediterranean platter, or possibly another round of sandwiches, this time with this version of chickpea salad.

Interrupting my husband’s day seeing patients with really crucial discussions.

Carla and I spent the afternoon of her birthday shopping, which was delightful and exhausting. She wanted to go into every tchotchke / novelty items boutique within a ten mile radius. Our adventure included Five Below, Home Goods, Michaels, Hobby Lobby, Target, and the Dollar Store. We also went to Pet Smart, to look at the kitties.

During our expedition, we passed a new international foods store and had to check it out. They had a variety of snacks and treats from different countries. I snagged a bag of coriander flavored Doritos which are my new favorite thing. They taste just like cilantro and are SO GOOD.

Yummmmmm.

Carla was more interested to learn that this store sold squishies and fidgets that are currently all the rage. She persuaded her father to buy her a NeeDoh Fuzz Ball, but then when we got home, she noticed that it doesn’t have the NeeDoh logo on it. We got squishy scammed, y’all. My thought is that this store had no idea they were selling counterfeit NeeDohs, and so I am hoping we can go back and inform them about the problem, maybe get our money back, and definitely get some more coriander chips.  

If you live in the U.S., are you celebrating Independence Day? I dislike this holiday because of the fireworks. They are loud and dangerous and it seems like a lot of people take the expansive view that the entire month of July is for setting off firecrackers in their yards at all hours of the day and night. I get very Grumpy Old Lady about the whole thing, and my husband and I typically prefer to spend the holiday holed up in our basement, grumbling about our neighbors (him) and fretting that a rogue firework will set our home ablaze (me). (Last year, we woke up on July 5 to find our driveway littered with spent firework shells.)

Art by Sina Simburger, @sin.xline

My in laws sent my whole family holiday apparel. This was a very kind gesture, and 250 years is a momentous anniversary. For all its flaws, I love my country. We have freedoms and opportunities here that I try not to take for granted. It is exciting and remarkable that we have reached this semiquincentennial milestone. And… I kind of feel that expressing any kind of patriotism gives an inaccurate impression of my beliefs and politics. I’ve driven past a lot of houses over the past month or so that have cheerful American flag bunting on their fences, or little American flags planted in their yards, or patriotic signs trumpeting their enthusiasm for the anniversary, and part of me feels a little lift of festive joy… and another part of me feels like I have an immediate – and quite possibly biased and wrong! – insight into what kind of people they might be and what kind of beliefs they may hold. UGH. By the way: I am not saying that people more conservative than I am are “bad;” I know many people across the political spectrum who are good, kind, loving people… who simply have different views on some topics than I do. I don’t know. It’s kind of unfair, is what I’m saying, that a symbol of unity should instead carry with it the weight of judgment. As usual, I am not the first or the most articulate person to note this; but it’s particularly noteworthy to me as we inch closer to the Fourth of July.

Let’s turn to a less controversial topic, which is my cat. Poor Lenny was shut away in my room for SIX HOURS while the new air conditioner was being installed, because the HVAC people kept going in and out of the house. He bore the injustice of his imprisonment with dignity. But he did develop a winky eye, which of course made me worry that he had something seriously wrong with him. Carla and I took multiple videos and photos of him, and examined his winky eye in various lights from various angles. I envisioned eye drop prescriptions and Rachel Green-style interactions and surgical intervention and loss of the eye. I called the vet and asked their opinion; their opinion is always “bring him in.” I scheduled the first available appointment, forgetting that there were five (5) strangers meandering in and out of my house for the foreseeable future. I called the vet back and got a later appointment. I fretted as the appointment approached because the HVAC people were STILL THERE. Finally, with about forty minutes to spare, the HVAC people left. I released the cat from my room so he could use the litter box. When he reappeared, his winky eye had resolved completely.

I had texted my husband earlier in the day to alert him to the cat’s almost certain blindness. His response was “Maybe an eggshell.” This requires some backstory, which is that my husband’s colleague sent him home with some fresh eggs the other day, from her chickens. She’d packaged the eggs in a little clear egg carton and had included some instructions with them that said they should be stored on the counter. Well. Lenny was obsessed with the eggs. He must have been able to smell chicken on them? He didn’t bother them until there were only two left. At which point, I came home from Carla’s birthday shopping extravaganza to find the carton overturned on the floor, one egg completely unharmed, and the other broken. I cleaned everything up, returned the surviving egg to the carton, and put a package of insect repellent refills on top of it to make it more difficult to bat off the counter. Not difficult enough, it turns out. The next morning, we came into the kitchen to find the eggshell I’d rinsed and left on the counter to dry once again on the floor, the makeshift carton weight on the counter, and the egg carton on the floor. The remaining egg was still intact. Hence my husband’s assumption that eggshell was the source of Lenny’s winky eye.

Screenshot

I made crème brûlée for Carla’s birthday dessert, per her request. The recipe called for five egg yolks, and I saved the shells because I read that they can deter slugs. Which I think are destroying both my coleus plants and one of my hydrangea trees. I love how pretty the eggshells are, or were before I baked them and crushed them. I hope they help my coleus plants! This is the third year I’ve planted coleus in the same location, and the first time that I’ve had an issue.

What’s up with you this Wednesday? How hot is it where you are? What are you making to eat when you don’t want to turn on the oven?

by

Pandemic Randomosity: More of Narrative Than a Bulleted List But Still Pretty Random

I had to double check that it truly is SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH SOMEHOW. This has long been a refrain of my life, the “where has time gone?!?!?!” theme, and yet it never ceases to astound me because WHERE has the time GONE?

Time has taken on even new depths of slippery-ness now that Carla is back in school. (She is SO HAPPY, internet. I know it could go remote at any moment, but for now she is SO HAPPY.) I keep jolting out of whatever I’m doing and thinking, “Where’s Carla?!” as though she’s still in the house somewhere and I’ve forgotten about her. Or I will look at the clock and think, “Oh my god! I need to go get Carla!” even though I may, in fact, have four hours yet before I need to pick her up. 

We have all these new things to do each day – make sure she doesn’t have a fever, answer some “do you have Covid or Covid symptoms?”-style questions via an app before 7:30, make sure she has a selection of masks to take to school with her – and it’s making me jumpy. I will be prepping her breakfast and think, “Oh no! I didn’t take her temperature yet!” Or we’ll be in the car line and I’ll yelp, “Shoot! I didn’t fill out the online form!” Or we’ll be just ready to step out the door and I’ll feel that sick sensation of having forgotten to wash her masks. When, in fact, I have plenty of time to take her temperature and I already filled out the form and she has plenty of clean masks.

And then there’s the new pickup time. The kids all have staggered arrival and departure times, and I need to pick Carla up at 2:45. Which is exactly the time I used to leave the house to pick her up. You are seeing the issue, right? Even though I have set my alarm for 2:30, so that I can leave the house right then to go get her, my brain is always going, “Pshaw, you have plenty of time!” because it still thinks I don’t need to LEAVE until 2:45. And then I’ll be puttering around doing lord knows what until I see that the clock says 2:37 and then I FLIP OUT. I have even included a little note that shows up when the alarm goes off, that says “PICKUP AT 2:45.” Still, my brain is convinced I have more time than I do. We live very close to Carla’s school, so I haven’t been late yet. But it’s been very very close. (I don’t know what would happen if I were late. Nothing, probably. But I like to FOLLOW the RULES.)

This is all part of adjusting to a new routine. I have set myself all sorts of alarms and reminders on my phone so I won’t forget any of the steps. Plus, we have purchased new whiteboards and listed out all the things Carla needs to remember each day (she can’t bring a backpack, but she does need masks and a water bottle) (she also has to take a shower immediately upon arriving home; I don’t know if this will help at all with germ containment, but it definitely helps move bedtime along more smoothly). We don’t have any after-school activities; our only commitment is one day a week, every other week, which helps significantly.  I think we have some good systems in place to help keep us on track. But it’s still early days, so I am feeling off-balance and afraid of making a mistake. 

When I was writing this post, I could not for the life of me remember the word for “commitment.” I was WRACKING my brain and coming up with nothing. Well, not NOTHING. The brain is very helpful, and was serving up all manner of wrong and not-even-remotely correct words. I am going to hope this isn’t a sign of aging but rather a keto-related brain fog, yes I have just started keto again and I don’t want to talk about it. Because I was in the car and unable to Google, I texted my husband. I am sure he lives for these urgent interruptions in helping seriously ill people. Obviously he knew the exact word I needed. He is a brilliant, wonderful man. This is the kind of thing that keeps a marriage fresh.

To change topics rather abruptly, Carla is very into LEGO right now. She’s always liked LEGO; she and her dad love to build scenes from Frozen and the like from sets. A few years ago, her grandmother even made her a big table-top sheet of LEGO that she can build on; it lives in our living room as a permanent part of our décor. But this summer, she’s gotten really into it. She used her allowance to buy a big tub of LEGO, rather than one of the build-something-specific kits, and she’s been busy building things and breaking things down and incorporating her creations into her imaginative play. I love that she finds it so absorbing. The other day, my husband and I watched football and Carla just… played with LEGO. The entire time. 

Aside from the important fact that CARLA enjoys LEGO, I like it because I feel like I can get points for playing with her while not actually playing. Listen, I love my child with the fire of all the stars in the universe, but I do not like playing with her. I do play with her. We play Barbies and we play restaurant and we play pet store and we play all sorts of things. But I do not enjoy it. I enjoy crafting and reading and going for walks with her. I enjoy doing things by myself. Playing, not so much. 

But with LEGO, I have carved out a very clear role for myself: that of Piece Finder. The way it works is that Carla will decide she wants to build something – a park or a hotel or a triceratops or whatever – and then she will tell me, “Find me all the green pieces.” Or, “I need all the 2×2 bricks.” Or, “I need this eye that looks like it’s closed so I can make my alligator wink.” And then I will sift through her giant tub of LEGO pieces and find what she needs. It is soothing and I am spending Quality Time with her and – most important of all! – she counts it as playing.

(“You never play with me!” has been a frequent tearful complaint these past six months, because creating lesson plans and taking her to the dog park and walking along as she rides her bike and watching her swing on the swingset and playing board games with her and taking her on hikes and teaching her how to bake banana bread and designing elaborate chalk obstacle courses with her and searching for bugs and watching Full House with her do not count as “playing.” Omfg.) 

We watched LEGO Masters starring Will Arnett (who normally annoys me, but whom I found rather endearing on this show??? even as he simultaneously sort of annoyed me????) together as a family. When it was airing live, earlier this year, I rolled my eyes at it. Carla kept wanting to watch the previews and I kept discouraging her from wanting to watch it. So lame, I thought. Grown ups playing with LEGOs? Ugh. But it turned out to be a really sweet, charming show featuring extraordinarily talented (and sometimes DEEPLY annoying) contestants and truly mind-blowing creations. The things these people can do with LEGO!!!! It makes me eager for Carla to pursue a LEGO-oriented career, like as a LEGO designer or builder or whatever you call them. How COOL would that be?????? (My husband and I agreed that the prize for winning LEGO Masters should be that you get to design something for LEGO. Or maybe get, like, an internship at LEGO or something. Because the contestants were SO creative and skilled with LEGO, it seems like the $100,000 prize was just not enough.) 

One thing that I found charming about LEGO Masters was that there is all this LEGO specific terminology. Like, I had no idea that LEGO is a plural noun. It’s not LEGOs, which I still have to correct myself from saying; it’s just LEGO. (I feel like kind of a dumbass saying LEGO as a plural. The same way I feel like a dumbass if I try to pronounce a foreign word correctly. Which, in both cases, is a stupid way to feel.) And the little LEGO pieces are called bricks. And they have ALL this lingo for different types of brick usage. It was super fun to learn.

One thing we did NOT learn, which would be intensely helpful: how to easily unpair bricks from one another. I spend a LOT of time breaking my thumbnails trying to get bricks apart for Carla’s various building needs. (We have a little orange thing that’s supposed purpose is for getting LEGO apart, but I do not know how to make it work. Most often, it slips and stabs me.) 

This post is not leading anywhere, so instead of leaving you in as completely abrupt a way as I switched subject matter earlier, I will say that we are now contemplating buying Carla a LEGO dragon. She requested one specifically, and I think it would be an excellent Christmas gift. She also wants 1,000 2×3 black bricks, but perhaps she will need to save up her allowance for that particular purchase.

We did get her a LEGO Advent calendar. There are several options in this category – like a Harry Potter version and a Star Wars one. We got her this one because it seemed a) the most Christmassy and b) it had the most options for actually building things; some of the others seemed to feature a lot of figures and not as many things you can put together. 

I can’t believe we’re thinking about Christmas already, but there you are. Well, I guess this post is ending where it began, with time slipping and sliding away. Before you know it, we’ll all be filling trash bags with scraps of wrapping paper and wondering how 2021 is right around the corner.