Oh, we also got a new thermostat. If I work out how to use it, we should be able to control our house temperature FROM OUR PHONES. What an age we live in.
Saturday, September 29, 2018
The Perfect Kitchen!
We've been thinking about this for years: making more kitchen surface space available by removing the fridge from the kitchen and getting under-counter units installed. Well, we did the first part a few weeks ago and have been trecking up and down the basement stairs to the fridge in the basement every time we wanted something to eat. (It's been quite slimming both from the exercise and the fact that it discouraged us from wanting to eat, given the fuss involved.) But the day finally came (yesterday) when we got the under-counter units delivered and our invaluable handywoman Connie installed them today!
Shame there's no person who's super-keen on cooking and likes plenty of workspace coming to visit us this year...
Oh, we also got a new thermostat. If I work out how to use it, we should be able to control our house temperature FROM OUR PHONES. What an age we live in.
Oh, we also got a new thermostat. If I work out how to use it, we should be able to control our house temperature FROM OUR PHONES. What an age we live in.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Our street is getting dug up
Friday, September 14, 2018
Back to the Eye place
So this is the third time I've visited the eye clinic in Jackson (hour and twenty minutes away), and I only had to do it this time because it's been six months since the last visit and that's long enough that I needed a checkup before I could schedule the surgery that scoops out all my floaters. The appointment was at 10:35, I arrived at 10:15, I actually got seen by the doctor at 12:15, and she was done by 12:25. Ho hum. She did tell me that I had a progressing cataract, so there's that. Also I got my pupils dilated, so I had to wear two pairs of sunglasses at once on the way home. The surgery's scheduled for December so that Thomas can drive me home (provided we manage not to hit a deer this time.)
Sunday, September 2, 2018
The real drive to Chicago
Various readers have complained that my description of the drive to Chicago was far too one-sided, with Thomas coming off as churlish at best. So here is Thomas's version of events:
"First of all, the driving was terrible: she creaked down the driveway like a tortoise. Then, she almost killed us three times within a mile of our house. She clearly had no idea how to work the car. (I thought of offering to drive but didn't because I didn't want to. Besides, she needed to figure it out for herself. But I did give her suggestions loudly, which she didn't listen to.) Second, she kept pulling food and drinks out of thin air, food and drinks she clearly had no intention of sharing with me. (I knew this because she was trying to sneak eat and drink them. But I knew what she was doing.) The tea was disgusting ("unsweetened"*,) but I drank it. And the apple was a misshapen monstrosity. I ate it. Noisily, so that she'd know what I knew she had saved the inferior one for me. Third, she asked to stop every five minutes! If she had her way, we'd still be driving to Chicago. At one point, for no reason, she did pull over without consulting with me first (I would have reminded her there was no reason at all to stop) and disappeared into a gas station for half an hour (she said there was a line for the women's bathroom--a likely story!--and came back loaded down with food that I TOLD her we didn't need (We had JUST eaten lunch three hours earlier. I had eaten all I could possibly eat then and I am sure, though I wasn't paying attention at the time, that she had as well). She had purchased two doughnuts (really small, and one was covered with pink frosting--ridiculous! I ate them both), a bag of nuts and dried fruit (there was no way I was going to eat that--later, I did sample it and it was just as I thought it would be, complete crap. And although I ate plenty more during the remained of the trip, each time I took a bit I pointed out again that it really was awful. She also had gotten me a bottled cold coffee drink of some sort. It was pretty good. I don't think I mentioned that I like it, but I didn't complain. Of course she missed the correct turnoff once we got into Chicago. (This has happened before when we've been out driving this summer. Clearly she's becoming demented. Knowing that she needed to know, I told her she was showing her age. Sadly, it is common for the elderly to resist accepting evidence of their own decrepitude, and she was no different, taking great umbrage when I pointed out how incompetent she was being.) Also, lest I forget, she sighed a lot--a LOT--during the drive. I pointed this out but it didn't stop her from doing it.
We got to the hotel before dark which seemed to give her an unseemly degree of happiness. Fearing that she would simply spin in confused circles once we got off the freeway, I gave clear and repeated (and loud, I know old people lose their hearing) instructions to guide her to the hotel. A wise decision on my part, as she therefore managed it without mishap. Once in the parking lot, she again showed her age by dithering about picking a parking spot. First this one, then (worried it was too narrow for this behemoth Simon purchased for no obvious reason) she slowly crept on to another space but then, no, that wasn't (she imagined) good enough either. After trying on every empty space in the lot (and, thank God, there weren't many by this time of night on a Saturday) she picked one identical to the rest. She started to unstrap the bike to take it to the hotel but I, fearing their objections, gently suggested that I stay with the bike while she check it in. I pointed out that, given that she had 4 (!!) totes (what's with the totes? why must everything go into little totes when you could, as I do, simply use one large backpack?) This fairly straightforward suggesting obviously confused her. So I laid it out in terms a child could understand: go to the hotel, check in, ask if they allow bikes in, find the room, DROP OFF YOUR THINGS, and come back and we will manage the bike. When thusly laid out, she understood and happily went on her way. Finally, after doddering about doing who knows what, she came back and brought the bike in. And, I'd like to point out, when properly informed, the doorman held open the door for us. I can only hope she learned from my reason.
Once in the room (Aside: I realize that my plan outlined above had her going to the room first but I was shocked to discover that she had not simply dropped off her things, but had obviously set up camp for herself and, like a greedy 19th century homesteader, had staked claim to all the ripe property within the room: the optimal bed, and best outlets, the choice bathroom sink space...it was ridiculous. And I believe I had every right to say so.) she immediately suggested going out. Honestly, I worry about her. I gently suggested that she rest for a few minutes (immediately she demanded to know 'how many minutes', as if such things can be coldly calculated) before we go flying out the door. Every five minutes she demanded that we go. Not wanting the discussion to escalate, I finally conceded (after the 30 minutes I had first suggested, I'd like to point out) and we went to the Thai restaurant near by. I really was not hungry--and told her so in no uncertain terms--but she ordered 3 (!!) appetizers in addition to the two full meals we ordered.** When the food came, my heart sank: the portions were enormous and there was simply no way I would be able to eat all that food. Yet, I knew from years of experience, that she would push the food on to me, expecting me to engulf it like a boa constrictor. It was delicious, and I did eat everything, which seemed to make her happy--yet, like a drunken gambler who keeps going back to the slot machine, the minute we finished the meal she asked if I wanted to go across the street to Dunkin' Donuts to buy an ice cream dessert. So ridiculous a suggestion I could hardly contain my astonishment.
After finished our meal, we went to the car so I could get a shirt for tomorrow and then we went to the hotel. After that, the evening was quite peaceful. I spent my time productively on my phone, and she watched a movie and knit. Her last words before falling to sleep were, "You had better not snore." I hardly need mention that it was SHE who is far more likely to snore. And with that, I close my account of the TRUE events of yesterday."
*I confronted her on this obvious contradiction. She claimed that she put sugar in her tea (!) when she had purchased the sugar herself and so knew what it was (!!) whereas with store bought tea she didn't trust (!!!) them to use real sugar and so went without (!!!!). I mean, honestly, how ridiculous a tissue of lies can there be? Either that or further signs of senility.
**The subtext of this whole experience should make one thing clear: she is riddled with contradictory views about money. On the one hand, wasting piles of money on gas station doughnuts, coffee, and Thai appetizers all the while complaining about how much they cost (the gas station "goodies" cost over $13, she felt the need to say to me--twice!--and, one the other when I express genuine concern for the costs of tuition, she waves my worries away and says, "Don't worry about it. We make shitloads of money for the little work we do. We're fine!" Never an honest and clear discussion, just teeter tottering from one extreme to the other. But, such inconsistency and insincerity has been my tragic foundation of my entire childhood experience.
"First of all, the driving was terrible: she creaked down the driveway like a tortoise. Then, she almost killed us three times within a mile of our house. She clearly had no idea how to work the car. (I thought of offering to drive but didn't because I didn't want to. Besides, she needed to figure it out for herself. But I did give her suggestions loudly, which she didn't listen to.) Second, she kept pulling food and drinks out of thin air, food and drinks she clearly had no intention of sharing with me. (I knew this because she was trying to sneak eat and drink them. But I knew what she was doing.) The tea was disgusting ("unsweetened"*,) but I drank it. And the apple was a misshapen monstrosity. I ate it. Noisily, so that she'd know what I knew she had saved the inferior one for me. Third, she asked to stop every five minutes! If she had her way, we'd still be driving to Chicago. At one point, for no reason, she did pull over without consulting with me first (I would have reminded her there was no reason at all to stop) and disappeared into a gas station for half an hour (she said there was a line for the women's bathroom--a likely story!--and came back loaded down with food that I TOLD her we didn't need (We had JUST eaten lunch three hours earlier. I had eaten all I could possibly eat then and I am sure, though I wasn't paying attention at the time, that she had as well). She had purchased two doughnuts (really small, and one was covered with pink frosting--ridiculous! I ate them both), a bag of nuts and dried fruit (there was no way I was going to eat that--later, I did sample it and it was just as I thought it would be, complete crap. And although I ate plenty more during the remained of the trip, each time I took a bit I pointed out again that it really was awful. She also had gotten me a bottled cold coffee drink of some sort. It was pretty good. I don't think I mentioned that I like it, but I didn't complain. Of course she missed the correct turnoff once we got into Chicago. (This has happened before when we've been out driving this summer. Clearly she's becoming demented. Knowing that she needed to know, I told her she was showing her age. Sadly, it is common for the elderly to resist accepting evidence of their own decrepitude, and she was no different, taking great umbrage when I pointed out how incompetent she was being.) Also, lest I forget, she sighed a lot--a LOT--during the drive. I pointed this out but it didn't stop her from doing it.
We got to the hotel before dark which seemed to give her an unseemly degree of happiness. Fearing that she would simply spin in confused circles once we got off the freeway, I gave clear and repeated (and loud, I know old people lose their hearing) instructions to guide her to the hotel. A wise decision on my part, as she therefore managed it without mishap. Once in the parking lot, she again showed her age by dithering about picking a parking spot. First this one, then (worried it was too narrow for this behemoth Simon purchased for no obvious reason) she slowly crept on to another space but then, no, that wasn't (she imagined) good enough either. After trying on every empty space in the lot (and, thank God, there weren't many by this time of night on a Saturday) she picked one identical to the rest. She started to unstrap the bike to take it to the hotel but I, fearing their objections, gently suggested that I stay with the bike while she check it in. I pointed out that, given that she had 4 (!!) totes (what's with the totes? why must everything go into little totes when you could, as I do, simply use one large backpack?) This fairly straightforward suggesting obviously confused her. So I laid it out in terms a child could understand: go to the hotel, check in, ask if they allow bikes in, find the room, DROP OFF YOUR THINGS, and come back and we will manage the bike. When thusly laid out, she understood and happily went on her way. Finally, after doddering about doing who knows what, she came back and brought the bike in. And, I'd like to point out, when properly informed, the doorman held open the door for us. I can only hope she learned from my reason.
Once in the room (Aside: I realize that my plan outlined above had her going to the room first but I was shocked to discover that she had not simply dropped off her things, but had obviously set up camp for herself and, like a greedy 19th century homesteader, had staked claim to all the ripe property within the room: the optimal bed, and best outlets, the choice bathroom sink space...it was ridiculous. And I believe I had every right to say so.) she immediately suggested going out. Honestly, I worry about her. I gently suggested that she rest for a few minutes (immediately she demanded to know 'how many minutes', as if such things can be coldly calculated) before we go flying out the door. Every five minutes she demanded that we go. Not wanting the discussion to escalate, I finally conceded (after the 30 minutes I had first suggested, I'd like to point out) and we went to the Thai restaurant near by. I really was not hungry--and told her so in no uncertain terms--but she ordered 3 (!!) appetizers in addition to the two full meals we ordered.** When the food came, my heart sank: the portions were enormous and there was simply no way I would be able to eat all that food. Yet, I knew from years of experience, that she would push the food on to me, expecting me to engulf it like a boa constrictor. It was delicious, and I did eat everything, which seemed to make her happy--yet, like a drunken gambler who keeps going back to the slot machine, the minute we finished the meal she asked if I wanted to go across the street to Dunkin' Donuts to buy an ice cream dessert. So ridiculous a suggestion I could hardly contain my astonishment.
After finished our meal, we went to the car so I could get a shirt for tomorrow and then we went to the hotel. After that, the evening was quite peaceful. I spent my time productively on my phone, and she watched a movie and knit. Her last words before falling to sleep were, "You had better not snore." I hardly need mention that it was SHE who is far more likely to snore. And with that, I close my account of the TRUE events of yesterday."
*I confronted her on this obvious contradiction. She claimed that she put sugar in her tea (!) when she had purchased the sugar herself and so knew what it was (!!) whereas with store bought tea she didn't trust (!!!) them to use real sugar and so went without (!!!!). I mean, honestly, how ridiculous a tissue of lies can there be? Either that or further signs of senility.
**The subtext of this whole experience should make one thing clear: she is riddled with contradictory views about money. On the one hand, wasting piles of money on gas station doughnuts, coffee, and Thai appetizers all the while complaining about how much they cost (the gas station "goodies" cost over $13, she felt the need to say to me--twice!--and, one the other when I express genuine concern for the costs of tuition, she waves my worries away and says, "Don't worry about it. We make shitloads of money for the little work we do. We're fine!" Never an honest and clear discussion, just teeter tottering from one extreme to the other. But, such inconsistency and insincerity has been my tragic foundation of my entire childhood experience.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
A room with not much of a view
Once again Thomas and I set out for Chicago. We used Simon's new SAAB and, given its history of going into "limp mode", I was more than a little anxious about making the drive. Plus, we had strapped Thomas's bike on the back and, because the seals on the car doors are so damn well made, the bike rack hooks prevented the hatch door from closing completely, which made alarming alarm bells and flashing dashboard lights go off at random moments during the drive. (Not completely random--only when I was having to make a snap decision, like swerving out of the way of a semi truck, or trying to navigate downtown Chicago's 10 loop freeway exchange system. But I digress...) As has been mentioned before, Thomas is a harsh task master: no permission granted to fill up the gas tank ("Gas costs too much in Michigan--wait until we get to Indiana where it is cheaper." (How, our readers may ask themselves, could Thomas possibly know regional gas prices? Good question.) Then, when we got to Indiana and Thomas begrudgingly allowed me to stop to use a bathroom, he again refused to tolerate time to be taken to put gas in the car. ("Are you crazy? The tank is half full! Keep going!") First thing I am doing once I ditch him tomorrow is fill up the damn gas tank.
Other than the alarming car noises, the drive was relatively uneventful. The first 10 minutes were the most exciting, when I almost drove completely off the freeway on ramp (I was trying to help Thomas figure out why the cd player wasn't working) and I almost rear ended a San Franciso trolley. (Why was a SF trolley on the freeway anyway?) Then next hour was quiet and then we drove into a massive rain storm--visibility was zero, mainly because I had no idea how to work the windshield wipers. I did figure then out by the time the storm passed---they work mirror image to the way mine do in my car. After that, the drive was quiet. I had brought along some tea to drink and Thomas groused, "Where's my tea?" I had in fact bought myself two bottles of tea but gave one to him without complaint. I then started eating an apple and Thomas immediately whined, "Where's my apple?" I HAD brought along (for myself) two apples, but without hesitation, pointed to the second apple I had brought and offered it to him. He picked it up and grimaced, "You took the better one!"
Around dinner time at home, middle of the day Chicago time, we arrived at our usual hotel. I parked in the usual parking lot (which Simon has recorded in previous blogs if you are dying to remind yourself of what a parking lot in Chicago looks like). We did not get our usual 11th floor room, but a room on the 3rd floor. Here it is:
Thomas refused to enter the hotel with me when I went to check in because he was convinced they wouldn't allow bicycles in. So, he stood by the car keep watch on the bike while I got the "all clear." Not only do they tolerate bikes (I would think so, at the rate they charge per room) but the doorman held the door open for me as I wheeled the bike in.) Thomas complained that I had taken the better bed (I had taken the one farther from the bathroom, figuring he'd want to be there since he stays up many hours later than I do) and the outlet I had chosen (despite the fact that he has two outlets right near his bed). Sheesh. The manager who checked me in said that, while our room "doesn't have much of a view" it is "very quiet." He wasn't kidding about the lack of view:
So far the noise levels strike me as utterly average.
After checking in, Thomas mandated that we "rest" (which seemed to be him gaming) for 30 minutes before going out to eat. (As usual, he claimed he wasn't hungry in the least yet polished his plate.) Then we went to the car to (a) make sure I had locked it properly and (b) open it up to root out a shirt for Thomas to wear tomorrow and (c) lock it up again.
Tomorrow the plan is: get up, eat breakfast, Thomas go to his dorm and check in, he gives me the "all clear" signal and I drive over with his stuff, we load it into those giant boxes on wheels, he moves in to his room while I park the car again and check out of the hotel, and then we shop at Target to get everything we didn't bring (milk, butter, little cheeses...). Then, if weather cooperates I'll be home before Flint dinner time.
Thomas refused to enter the hotel with me when I went to check in because he was convinced they wouldn't allow bicycles in. So, he stood by the car keep watch on the bike while I got the "all clear." Not only do they tolerate bikes (I would think so, at the rate they charge per room) but the doorman held the door open for me as I wheeled the bike in.) Thomas complained that I had taken the better bed (I had taken the one farther from the bathroom, figuring he'd want to be there since he stays up many hours later than I do) and the outlet I had chosen (despite the fact that he has two outlets right near his bed). Sheesh. The manager who checked me in said that, while our room "doesn't have much of a view" it is "very quiet." He wasn't kidding about the lack of view:
After checking in, Thomas mandated that we "rest" (which seemed to be him gaming) for 30 minutes before going out to eat. (As usual, he claimed he wasn't hungry in the least yet polished his plate.) Then we went to the car to (a) make sure I had locked it properly and (b) open it up to root out a shirt for Thomas to wear tomorrow and (c) lock it up again.
Tomorrow the plan is: get up, eat breakfast, Thomas go to his dorm and check in, he gives me the "all clear" signal and I drive over with his stuff, we load it into those giant boxes on wheels, he moves in to his room while I park the car again and check out of the hotel, and then we shop at Target to get everything we didn't bring (milk, butter, little cheeses...). Then, if weather cooperates I'll be home before Flint dinner time.
Thomas sets off back to Chicago
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