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Hm.

I had a pretty nice dream about a certain someone. Too bad it was interrupted. Ha.

Scavenger Hunt

They're flipping a house down the street from us and simply tossing everything in it out onto the curb. Today I decided to pull off to the side on the way home and see what they've got in there. Lots of junk, of course, and lots of debris from inside and out, but they certainly had some treasures. For one I found a huge trunk, with only the leather handles and key missing, as well as an adorable chair I absolutely must paint and reupholster. I also found this gorgeous large glass candy dish with a sterling silver base that I've already cleaned and polished to a high shine. But the pièce de résistance? An intact 1953 Singer sewing desk complete with retro black machine, electric pedal, and three drawers stuffed with accessories and attachments. It even has the original manual. I'm going to strip that puppy down, replace the veneer, and give it a glamourous new life as an antique.

Edit: This is the Singer sewing machine I salvaged last night. I'm still trying to figure out the desk, since I haven't found anything like it online, but I promise I'll post pictures of it soon.

I'm taking this well, considering.

I had a nice day planned of housecleaning and yard work, but that all came to a screeching halt when my cousin called and asked if I wanted to go down with he and his girlfriend to see our grandmother. I'm not sure if they noticed, but I think we'll be lucky if my grandfather makes it to Christmas. He looks like he's going into organ failure and he has the distinctive grey pallour of death. I don't see any lengthy hospitalization of any kind; we'll either get a call from my grandmother saying he died in his sleep or he'll be rushed to the ER only to die a few days later.

While I was down there, my grandmother gave me a pair of postcards from around the early 1920's, from my great-great-grandmother to my great-grandmother. The cards themselves are beautiful and fairly well preserved. I put them in a pair of art deco with an acid-free paper backing to enhance how beautiful they are. Of all the things my grandmother has given me, I like these the most. They're genuine, dated antiques from my family when they'd just come to this country. To New Jersey of all places. Well, back then it was one of the places to be. Even presidents had summer houses there.

When I got back, my dad and I had a little chat about my mother. He quietly told me that he may be separating from her for a while after all this is over. My mother has been positively monstrous, but I had to point out to him that her behaviour may be caused by brain damage from the neurological disorder and/or the probes implanted in her brain, exposing it to constant electrical stimulation. Not that it makes her constant berating or harping any easier for him. In the end I told him I'm surprised he's lasted as long as he has and that I'm okay with them splitting up. I'm just too old to decide which parent I'm going to live with if they decide it's better if they divorce.

I burst into the room and said:

"I should have been born a boy!"
"Why, so you'd be taller?"
"Piss off."
"So you could pee standing up?"
"That would be a bonus."
"So you could have sex with other boys?"
"I won't answer that to spare you the trauma."
"...I really didn't need to know that"
"So as I was saying, I should have been born a boy!"
"...Alright, fine. Why?"
"My greatest joy right now is that my new laptop has a remote control!!!"

Oh, and it has an extra-wide screen perfect for watching movies. I'm in love.

The Force is strong within me.

There is a particular supervisor at work that's a total bitch. Even her own people can't stand her. She kept berating us because her log sheet wasn't completed, despite the fact that it's attached to a new system we've only been working with for two months, and that "nursing better get off their asses and fix this." Uh, we're not the ones who broke it! Monday she came for her daily tirade and commented on how another supervisor's log is always done, but not hers. Why couldn't we just merge the two of them together?

Just to pacify her, I tested the new form out for her and actually think it makes our job much, much easier. So my unit's going to put a positive spin on it and lead by example. Since we're trying to boost morale anyway by showing the employees how much we appreciate what they're doing, we pitched in to buy her a red velvet cake and I made her a thank you card. I miniaturized her form and put a gold star on it, then mounted it on a card and made it all fancy. Tomorrow we'll all sign it and take it to her office. Maybe we'll stun her into shutting the hell up for once.

Patience is a virtue.

Last night my basil tree's pot broke, forcing me to carry through my weekend plans of getting some new pots and upgrading all my babies so they can stretch their roots. So off to Home Depot I went, in search of decorative stuff that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg. I found one of those three-foot resin urns on the 50% clearance cart, complete with faux cracks and crumbling stone facade, but someone had peeled half the price sticker off. After waiting half an hour for the manager to arrive (mostly because he was hijacked by some cranky old Jamaican lady), he told me the original price had been $59.99 and asked if $12 seemed fair enough to me. Sold!

While he helped me load it into my cart he asked what I planned on doing. I told him my baby ficus, Rebecca, would go into the new urn while a new bella neanthe palm I brought home last week would go into the old on, which would then be placed on the tv stand. I needed a huge new pot for my olive tree to grow into, the bay tree would go into the olive tree's pot, and the pomegranate was supposed to go into the olive's pot, but it broke. Hence my purchasing a new Mexican clay pot. After looking at my cart for a moment, he told me to wait right there, then returned a short while later with an oversized tulip-shaped clay pot with handles. They'd just gotten the shipment in and hadn't even had a chance to put it into the computer system yet. How about $20? Sold!

All my reduced price purchases allowed me to get a small pallet of decorative stone tiles to mark the pet cemetery with, starting with Freaky Deke's grave. Maybe one day I'll figure out how to make memorial plaques out of them.

Freaky Deke

I woke up at six this morning to find Deke the Geek had died in his sleep. I knew it was going to happen. There wasn't anything I could pinpoint, but last night I just knew I'd wake up and he'd be gone. I sat there for a while and just petted him, telling him he was a good boy and mommy's little ugly man. I don't think he was in any pain -- he was all curled up in his bed as usual. I carried him outside and buried him in a new addition of the pet cemetary, right by the angel statue. I think I'm done adopting dogs for right now. Brandy needs to be an only child for a while. I'll wait until I make the move to Chicago to start looking for a new fur-baby.

Comfort Food

I'm living in a house with two diabetics and a temporary cripple, and no one could make up their minds what to have for dinner. So I cleaned out the fridge and served grilled Polish sausages, parsley potatoes, green beans and garlic bread with Guiness cake for dessert. Soon I'm going to make myself a pot of tea for one, cut a slice of cake, and settle down to watch my Netflix movies so I can turn send them back in the morning.

Thank you.

I just want to thank everyone who's posted comments of sympathy and support over the last two weeks. I haven't been ignoring you, I just don't know what to say. "Thank you" and "It'll be okay" over and over again just seem horribly lame. Unfortunately, despite my ability to speak on the fly, sometimes my social distance makes it difficult for me to think of something to say at the appropriate moment. So, thanks everyone.

Vroomvroom.

My dad loves to mow the grass. It's the one truly physical thing he's always been able to do, no matter how much pain he's in. Which means I've never learned how to use a lawn mower. I can use a hedge trimmer, weed wacker, chain saw, tiller, etc., but not a lawn mower. Even when I've lived elsewhere, by myself, I never had a lawn. I always had little teeny plots of land perfect for gardening. However, with the surgery and the (dog) collar he's wearing, he won't be able to do much of anything for the next three months. So thanks to our guest showing me how to prime the mower and start it up, I'm now taking a break after finishing off the back yard under my dad's supervision.