Whirr

Inspirational song: Be Good Johnny (Men at Work)

I'm really getting the hang of this online shopping thing. I had an emotional block to it for years, preferring to shop in person by a country mile. I like to see and touch things before I buy. I also hate the idea of sending things back. But now that there is a way to return Amazon things by just handing them to a human at Kohls, there is less reason to resist anymore. 

The order for the kids arrived just after sundown today. I peeked in the box, and I'm so excited about the gifts. I'm pretty sure I still intend to give the kids the ones I selected for each, but I might swap them. There is a big difference in the tool sets--one is more hand tools, the other is more power tools. I think Valerie is more of a "chainsaw like grandpa" kind of girl, and Dmitri needs his own power drill like the one he keeps trying to steal from grandpa. I think I have enough AA batteries to fill both kits. (Side note: I found the first thing I am super disappointed in from Costco: Kirkland batteries suck.)

The chainsaw brings up strong memories. When we last lived in California, there was a Halloween to remember. Older daughter's high school boyfriend wore a costume based on Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He had a bloody apron, a full-face mask, and a toy chainsaw that made noise. He was wearing the whole getup, and came around the corner in the house, holding the whirring chainsaw. My sweet calico Cricket saw him appear, and when I say she lost her shit, I mean that literally. There is nothing that can match the scent of fear poop. Poor cat. It took her the rest of the night to calm down, and it took a week for the kitchen to stop stinking. I will be conscious of this when the children play power tools in this house.

Say Nothing

Inspirational song: Henry Kissinger (Monty Python)

For no particular reason, I was thinking about how most of our mothers told us if you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all.

Anyway.

Game night was a little different tonight. We had a bunch of dropouts, so we three hardest of hard-core group members met up at a restaurant to play games and imbibe beverages and snacks. It was my favorite Mexican restaurant, but we just had chips and queso and guac, rather than actual meals. We played a new game called Cascadia that our old college roommate has been suggesting for the last few game sessions. He taught it to us, and we had so much fun playing that I forgot to take a picture for tonight. Maybe I'll do a selfie again, or get a cat picture. We will see. 

I haven't indulged in alcohol during game night in a while, so I had a couple of offerings from the bar. It was kind of fun to relax myself out for the first time in a while. When the waitress was refilling the guys' beers, she recognized what we were playing and said she really likes that game. So did we. We will play this one again.

Time

Inspirational song: Play the Game (Queen)

How often am I ahead of the game with Christmas shopping? Granted, this year is easier because we are all burned out on stuff, and not even the kids are going to get bombarded with gifts. But they did need something special from their grandparents, so I got toy tool sets for each of them. They are different collections, so there will be the opportunity for sharing, trading, and probably a little jealous fighting. All the things siblings learn at this age. From here, I don't need to do much. I will look for small stocking gifts, and there is plenty of time to do that.

I tried a few weeks ago to request an appointment with my oncologist online, and expected someone from the cancer center to call me to follow up. It never happened, and I would only remember that I should try to call them on weekends or late at night. For once my brain synced up on a weekday afternoon, and I called them. I knew I was months overdue, because last spring and summer were overwhelming and I blew it off. I told the scheduler I thought it had been since January, and I was super embarrassed to admit it. She looked at my chart, and said no, we haven't seen you since November of last year. Oh, crap. I'm really on the bad kid list. Santa will skip my house, won't he? It was bad enough that they told me to come in next week. You know you messed up when they don't even try to push you off with a "she's booked out through spring..."

I can hear a cat snoring heavily. I am the last one up tonight. Saoirse keeps flinching on the floor, making her tags jingle, like she is subtly hinting how much more comfortable we could both be if I would move to the bed. Not sure if I should be flattered by her devotion that she is waiting for me, or shamed that I'm making her wait to go to bed. Either way, it's time to go.

What Are You Looking At

Inspirational song: Paranoid (Black Sabbath)

I did exactly what I needed to today--nearly nothing. I rested. I sipped coffee. I made a delicious bread pudding from leftover Thanksgiving rolls. This was the only kind of day I could tolerate after going too hard all last week. I probably shouldn't have allowed myself a late nap after sunset, but I really didn't have that much choice in the matter. I might be up watching videos too late while I wait to power down.

I did go out briefly, as we were nearly out of milk. I chose Walmart, hoping to find more of the kind of hair clips I've been wearing lately (close but not exactly). I was surprised to see that Walmart was out of stick cinnamon completely, four days after Thanksgiving. Maybe it had just been moved to a display somewhere. I put the twinkle lights I had wanted in my bedroom up over my plants instead, so I needed a replacement set. I found some with faceted glass globes, so that the light they cast looks like astigmatism rings. I might want these up all year.

And I don't know what was so different about me today. I showered. I dressed in decent but basic clothes. I styled my hair and did a light dusting of makeup. I got looked at and talked to more than I was comfortable with while wandering around the store. Once or twice I could have written off to people just being friendly or having holiday spirit. It happened enough that I was extremely ill at ease. I started wondering if I had a smear on my face or my zipper undone or what. On the way home, I sent a selfie to my daughter and asked if I looked weird or something. She said I looked like a Target shopper, and all those Walmart people knew it. Whatever it was, I think I would have preferred to be invisible over this.

Decking

Inspirational song: Cult of Personality (Living Colour)

All the itchy parts of my goblin brain demanded I start putting up the twinkle lights right away. I obeyed, and got started. I needed the Mr to pull the tree down from the upper reaches of the garage, but the rest I did mostly on my own.

We needed to run some errands this morning before kid time. Costco, Michael's, and Lowe's are all kind of in a row, so we hit them in order. My primary destination was Michael's, so that I could update my side table display. I wanted more glittery, icy looking things this year. I got some new ribbon and a garland with tiny disco balls on it. I also grabbed some sprigs of artificial berries and one giant green disco ball. We split up on that part of the run, and while the Mr was in Lowe's (getting rubber feet to quiet that metal chair noise), he saw a good deal on natural wreaths. Now the tree is up (no ornaments), the spare table is sparkly, there are two wreaths, and I loosely draped some colored lights along my plant bar in the front window. We are a long way from done, but it's scratching that itch. I'm waiting for the timer lights to flick off, so that I can sit in the glow of the fairy lights.

Four days in a row with the kids into everything here was a lot. By the time they went home, I was more than ready for a little time off. I didn't get as far as I wanted in educating Valerie about Santa lore, but we did watch an old Disney short about Rudolph. This one had a burly Santa who was very understanding about Rudolph's nose, as opposed to the Rankin-Bass version where he was complicit in the bullying of the oddball until he could use him for his own purposes. Not sure how deeply to discuss that with Val at this early stage. Probably not much.

Higher and Higher

Inspirational song: Climb Every Mountain (Sound of Music)

You just can't keep a good man down. Especially when that man is almost a year and a half old, and is perfecting his climbing skills. Even in man-to-man coverage, we couldn't keep Dmitri off of high perches. When one of us needed to handle a task, throwing us into zone defense, all hope was lost. Professor Grabbyhands is quick, and he is agile. Places he particularly liked today were the stepladder up to the counter where the cats eat, the short glass table between my chair and the piano, and naturally the antique bench by my fabric dresser, above which I store the TV remotes. When he was placed on his metal chair, he kept spinning around backwards, hanging his legs off the back, and throttling the chair like it was a bucking bronc that he barely had control of. When he was only next to same chair, we were treated to a reprise of the metal-scraping-tile song.

We were tentatively planning to go play Mario Kart this evening, but we were so wiped out at the end of the day, I raced off to put on old, loose jammies before the kids were fully buckled into their car seats. The Mr made noises about how he ought to go to the climbing gym, as he often does in the evenings, but while I was still sprawled out waiting for my nerves to stop vibrating, he turned up in his jammies as well. 

I tried multiple times to get Christmas decorations from the garage. I even pulled three tubs off the shelf, but I never could make it back out there with a wet wash cloth to get dust off them so they could come in the house. The kids were just too into everything. I was needed too much. I have goals of bringing in equipment tomorrow morning, before they arrive, so maybe we can set up the tree and some lights with them. I promise this now: all ornaments will be made of plastic, wood, or plush this year. Breakables stay in the garage. Most people worry about cats climbing Christmas trees. I have a boy.

Scrape

Inspirational song: Hurt (Johnny Cash)

The last week or so was absolutely too much. No two ways about it. I've been feeling like there are holes rubbed into my whole support structure, and I may need another day or more to patch them up enough to keep moving forward.

I started this morning spending hours cleaning out the bowl where I drop my earrings and necklaces. I keep it on the bathroom counter, right next to the cats water glass. Yesterday morning, someone (not saying who, but his name rhymes with Alfred) drank a whole bunch of water and then puked his entire breakfast into that jewelry bowl and the surrounding area. I didn't have enough RAM to process what it would take to clean it up, and after wiping up the part that was on the counter, I covered the bowl and whispered, "tomorrow." So this morning I settled down with disposable gloves, a selection of cleaners, and a roll of paper towels. I discovered that watery cat vomit will take the tarnish off of silver, but that doesn't mean I was willing to leave it there. It took hours to get it all clean, but eventually I finished, just in time to put all my jewelry up and out of Dmitri's reach.

We had the kids today, on a day not normally scheduled. They were wild things most of the time they were here, and I was more glad than ever that we had done so much to clean and thin how much was available for grabbing. They play with each other very well, and they practically have that secret twin language together. They can make each other howl with laughter, and that's what they did for the last half hour before pickup, pushing Dmitri's metal chair around, making the most horrendous noise. Good thing this tile floor is both tough and ugly. I figure if they actually do end up chipping or scratching it beyond repair, then I'll be that much closer to being allowed to rip it up and put down a wood floor. Have fun, kids. Make all the noises. Let's see what happens.

A Surplus of Everything

Inspirational song: Reasons to Be Cheerful, Part 3 (Ian Dury)

If I thought I was tired last night, that was nothing compared to right now. I'm finally getting my younger daughter (et al) to watch my favorite movie, Raising Arizona, and I can barely keep my eyes open. My bonus daughter recognized how much pain I was in too, and a couple of hours ago she fetched a tramadol for me while I sat in a recliner in the middle of the living room. If cooking and cleaning and hosting a big dinner didn't put me to sleep, tramadol and a comfort movie in a dimly lit room could achieve it.

We had as fantastic a feast as could be had. I hope all of you did the same. I still had to finish up dishes before bed, but there are enough able-bodied adults here to make it a quick task.

With enough attempts, we got a really good family photo. I was quite glad to get that accomplished, so I could change into jammies for the night. Yes, I'm covered in Santas now. Thanksgiving is over, kids. It's now officially Christmas time. It's snowing and everything.

No Effort November

Inspirational song: Iron Man (Black Sabbath)

There is a channel on YouTube I really like (well, there are bunches, but this one is relevant) called Technology Connections. I first watched him years ago, explaining the complete functionality of dishwashers. Since then, I've learned a ton about electronics, heat pumps, electric cars, and much more. He has a thing he does called No-Effort November, where his videos are on way simpler topics, with less elaborate demonstrations, and many of the bloopers left in the videos. When our friend asked what games to bring for board game night, I told him easy stuff that would fit this theme. I'm already putting in way too much effort elsewhere. Thus I got to play two rounds of Cosmic Wimpout (winning the first one by a lot) before I had to get back up and go back to the kitchen. If you don't recognize it from the attached photo, we used mini figurines from Encanto as our game tokens. I was Julieta, the mom of the main character Mirabel, the one who heals people with food as her magical gift.

The same friend who went with us on the eclipse trip has come down to join us for Thanksgiving, and is staying here for a couple nights. Just as she was our miracle who helped us and the kids make it through that difficult camping trip, she has been amazing here. With her help, we have gotten the place almost completely cleared out and cleaned for tomorrow's dinner. We've moved the toy tower (and thinned out what the kids have access to), leaving a space where the Christmas tree will go this weekend. The tables are moved and expanded, the chairs have 90% less cat hair embedded on them, the floors are almost entirely clean, and clutter corners are surprisingly empty. We are going to make it.

I didn't get as much cooking done today as I should have, because the counters were covered during key cooking times, and I had to dedicate too much of my energy to cleaning before help arrived. But I got a lot of my baking done in advance. Rolls, pumpkin pies, and the cornbread croutons for dressing are all baked. For the hundredth time, I had to write my mother and ask for a photo of the pecan pie recipe. I can't keep track of it to save my life. I ask for it almost every major holiday. I didn't get it until almost midnight, so that pie will be baked tomorrow.

I honestly didn't expect to be able to blog once I limped into the bedroom. I'm surprised I got this far. I'm sore, I had too much coffee late in the day, and I can only think of what's left on my to-do list. I see the end, though, kind of like a trail horse who has sighted the barn. I just have to keep trotting along on my sore hooves until I get there.

To Do, But How?

Inspirational song: The Impossible Dream (Man of LaMancha)

I don't think it can be done. I lost too much time Sunday and Monday, and now I don't know how to get it all done on Wednesday. I made a list, and somehow, that made it worse.

The carpet is just now mostly dry, at almost 10 pm. The living room is not entirely reassembled. There is still clutter on the piano and side table. But I did completely dust the liquor cabinet, so maybe the living room can be called half done.

The bathroom is as done as it can be. We will still be using it between now and Thanksgiving, so I'll give it a cursory wipe-down with Clorox wipes and be okay with it. While I was mopping that floor, I did the hallway too, so that's done.

The tables we will be eating around are still piled high with junk, both of them. Well, the extra table is worse, because most of its excess baggage is in storage tubs stashed underneath from last Christmas. I may be making snap judgements about how much of that stuff can just be tossed in the trash, if we didn't need it in a year.

I only baked one thing, and that was herded cornbread. I'll be cutting it into cubes tomorrow and toasting it as croutons. Then Thursday, that will become dressing or stuffing or whatever your region calls it. I have my quarterly botox appointment in the morning, and I guess the afternoon will be all baking: four pies and a boatload of gluten-free dinner rolls. 

I'm still on target to need an entire bottle of wine to myself during Thanksgiving dinner.

Suction

Inspirational song: Boney Fingers (Hoyt Axton)

There is a tangent coming off of the Great Appliance Massacre of 2023. A spur, if you will. A painful bone spur. The first thing I wanted to do today was shampoo the rug in the living room, so it would be completely dry by Wednesday. It took me some shuffling around to get to the point of being able to start that. I had to argue with my cordless vacuum to get it to suck in the right way. It kept clogging up on dog hair and crunchy leaf droppings. By the time it had to go back on the charger, the rug was close enough to done to shampoo. I futzed around a little more, and then filled up the tank on the shampooer. I started in the back corner, under Mr S-P's chair, and right away noticed that the machine wasn't drawing up water. Thus began an eight-hour (so far) saga of tearing the shampooer apart, reassembling, and failing to suck or soak. We tried everything. I dug out one of those gallon sprayers, and used that to saturate the rug, and it still didn't pull up water.

I only disassembled as much of the machine as I was comfortable with. Just the regular stuff I do to clean it. I tried pouring a little vinegar in the part where the tank mates to the sprayer, thinking maybe it was just a little clog. When all my cleaning measures failed, the Mr got out the tools. He pulled it partway apart, cleaned the deeper reaches, and tried it again. I noticed a scent, and told him it smelled like he lit a match. On the next tear-down, he found the burned-out hole in a plastic part that I smelled. It still didn't fix it. He went at it again, stripping it down to the motor and wires, significantly farther than most laypeople know how to handle. (Did I mention he used to repair and maintain airplanes in his youth?) The last time through left black powdered plastic and rubber bits on the rug, but gained nothing in suction.

Before the last assembly was completed, I started poking around on Amazon. I could get a basic model delivered between 4 and 8 am tomorrow. I told him that. He had to go buy cat food anyway, so he is currently on an epic quest to find a deal remotely close to the Amazon one that he could get tonight. I told my daughter about this, and she chastised me for wanting to make an underpaid and overworked Amazon driver bring it to me. I finally found the right words to express that now that my disability has advanced such that housework is this painful and difficult (a whole other blog post's worth of aches and pains), I can no longer maintain an ethical dislike of Amazon. As I told her, righteousness is a privilege of the abled. I'm ready to have things delivered to me.

On the Up and Up

Inspirational song: Love's Great Adventure (Ultravox)

A few days ago, Mr S-P picked up some kid-sized climbing shoes for Valerie. She has been bouncing off the walls ever since, wanting to go to the climbing gym to try them out. Today, as soon as Dmitri drifted off for his nap, they took off to do just that. Judging from the videos that were sent home, that girl is really getting the hang of it. Later, when she was home, I showed her some of those videos. On the first one, it showed her from behind, blonde hair streaming down her back. I asked, "Who is that?" She answered, "Mommy." Surprised, I looked at the big kid climbing the wall, and saw what she saw. Once video-Val got to the top of the wall section and turned around, and in-person Val realized it was her, I said, "You really do look like your mommy," and I meant it to be the highest compliment I could pay her.

A short way into Dmitri's nap, I think he half-woke, and then rolled himself off the bed. He started out whimpering, and ended up howling, walking down the hallway. I picked him up, hugged him a little, and then we rocked in my chair until he settled back down. He ended up sleeping on me for over an hour, canceling my plans to deep clean the kitchen ahead of Thanksgiving meal prep. I got very little done today, thanks to those goofy kids. I told myself I'd work after they went home, but instead, I took a hot shower, put on fuzzy jammies, and fell asleep in my chair until after 10. 

I did get one important task accomplished. While the kids were here, we video called their auntie to wish her a happy birthday. I'm seriously in denial that she is so deeply into adulthood. In my head, she is still a wild child exactly like Valerie is right now. There is a good chance she will remain that kid forever for me.

Precocious Child

Inspirational song: Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) (John Lennon)

I could not have anticipated Dmitri hitting peak little brother this early in his life. But when we got home from Costco, and he started bonking duplo blocks into stuff, he naturally poked at his sister with them. She said ow. And in a perfect imitation of her tone and pitch, he mocked back, "ow." As a little sister myself (and grandpa is the youngest of five), I can only be impressed with his precociousness. Well done, lad.

Grandpa took them down to Boulder to watch planes fly in patterns at the airport that he flies from. They have a better (safer) viewing area than the airport here, where the parking area is right off a busy road. They got chicken nuggets and sat and watched air traffic. Dmitri spent quite a bit of his time climbing onto the top of the picnic table, while Valerie called out encouragement to the planes. Not the pilots, the planes. "Good landing, airplane!"

They picked me up on the way back to town, and we went straight to Costco. Valerie was snoring hard in the back seat, having worn herself out from so much entertainment. We made sure we passed by the Christmas decoration section twice, once on the way in, once as we left. We stopped to smell candles, and look at lights. If you look at the photos, you might see more "little brother" in action.

After nuggets and then Costco ice cream, those kids were filthy. We already had a suggestion from their mother that giving them a bath before they were sent home would be helpful to her. I had to take care of a couple of strenuous cleaning tasks before drawing the bath, and once I got Valerie in the tub, I didn't have enough energy to strip Dmitri and plop him in the water. I stumbled out into the living room and asked the Mr to do it. Dmitri saw me come out of the bathroom, and while I was asking, he ran in there behind me. I said, "please help me with him. He's going to jump in the bath by himself." Mr S-P finished whatever social media thing he was looking at, and sauntered into the bathroom. He then had the gall to act surprised at what he found. Yes, the boy was in the tub, fully clothed, shoes and all. Good thing toddlers are too young to carry electronic devices in their pockets. A phone or a watch would have been destroyed.

Meal Prep

Inspirational song: Life of the Party (Charlie Robison)

There is a non-zero chance that once we all finally sit down for Thanksgiving dinner, grandma is going to knock back too many glasses of wine. My holiday prep so far has been hard labor, and I'm going to want some grape-flavored pain relief right about then. I doubt I will allow myself a drop between now and then. I can't take that much of a break. Periodic rests, yes. Rests with a sedative effect, no. (Editing Anne breaking in to say now is a good time to listen to the inspirational song, at least through the first verse.)

I started early this morning, going to King Soopers to act as toddler-wrangler. It was a harder job than usual, because halfway through, Dmitri had a total meltdown. It was his naptime, and he was so tired of being forced to sit in a cart, facing his grandmother. Valerie got very upset every time she was asked to ride in the other cart (yes, we travel with two, so my daughter can load up on chunky things like paper towels and cat litter). I was very glad to have done most of my Thanksgiving shopping a week ago. I did forget a couple things, and will have to brave the madhouse sometime this weekend. 

As many of you will recall, I needed to replace my oven, the one that had forgotten how to heat up in a timely manner. We removed the old one last week, and it has been hauled off to metal recycling already. The replacement, which has been sitting in the garage waiting for mountain build season to conclude, is now in the kitchen. It isn't all the way in the wall yet. We had to modify the cabinets, since it we are going from single to double ovens. We bought this one from the Habitat Restore (or maybe it was Boulder Resource--impossible for me to remember now), and it needed some serious cleaning. The upper oven, the one with the convection option, was filthy. I don't think the previous owner ever used the lower. I have scrubbed and scrubbed, and it's usable now. We had to take apart the doors, after I caused a little Barkeepers Friend to drip between the glass on the upper one. And if we were tearing apart one to clean all the way through, we might as well do both. Because we can't ever do things the quick and easy way.

After all these months without a functional oven, and all the effort to put this one in operation, I plan on baking every single meal for the next month. I will go out of my way to modify a recipe to change it from stovetop to oven, if I have to. It's the principle of the thing.

Have a Seat

Inspirational song: Sit Down, John (1776)

Furniture restoration looks so much cooler when it's edited down to a 20 minute video with voice over narration to drown out tool sounds. In person, it's slow, messy, and loud.

I finished spray painting most of the yellow parts today. I cleaned the rest of the adhesive goop off of the last step, scraped off the rust and crud by alternating between aluminum foil and steel wool, and got the first coat of fresh lemongrass yellow paint. The last uncleaned painted part is the bar that wraps around the base of the legs, and I didn't even gain access to it until late this afternoon. It was still attached to the final leg by a completely rusted bolt, and the Mr had to get a special blade for his oscillating saw to cut through it. That was the worst sound imaginable, and I was unprepared when it started.

I also buffed out all the corrosion off that last leg with aluminum foil. It was worse than all the others, so it will be far from perfect when done. But I'm not looking for this to be restored to factory conditions. I just want it to be sturdy, reasonably attractive, and cleanable. It should meet or exceed all my expectations.

Sweet Stuff

Inspirational song: Take It Easy (The Eagles)

I did more work on restoring that old metal kitchen chair. I sanded the rust off of the seat and back, and straightened out a few of the dents along the edges. Then I put a few coats of spray paint on them. The convex surface of the back coated like a dream. When I flipped it over to do the concave side, things went a little wrong. I saw a dog hair stuck in the first coat, and made a mess when I picked it out. I tried to recoat right away in that spot, and ended up making it too thick and it ran pretty badly. I had to wait until it dried to re-sand it and try again. I got one coat reapplied before the sun was down and it was too cold and dark to do more. So instead I worked on using Goo Gone to remove the glue from on of the stair treads. I hope I can get this done by the time Dmitri has to eat here again. Or at the very latest, Thanksgiving.

Game night was a success. We traveled over to the home of the two who are frequently playing remote, and for the first time in a couple months, the whole gang was present in person. The kids were entertained watching Frozen and they really liked having some access to leftover Halloween candy. I can't express how cute it was seeing Dmitri grab a little pack of Twizzlers and shake his wrist with them in a little gesture that said, "Grandmother, I require package opening immediately." Did I open them for the kids? Yes. Was it stupid of me because Twizzlers are not gluten-free? Probably. Did I care, because hopping the kids up on sugar amused me in the moment? Definitely. 

Magic and Lore

Inspirational song: Here Comes Santa Claus (Gene Autry)

There I was, minding my own business, lumbering through Walmart with no real plan. I was doing okay ignoring the Christmas versions of bagged chocolate candies that replaced the Halloween versions two weeks ago. Instead of looking at them on my right, I was looking left. That's when I saw a couple of goofy t-shirts, and I sent up a prayer for help. Well, actually, I sent a picture of them to my daughter, and said, talk me out of these, knowing full well she couldn't. Needless to say, I am wearing the one on the right (of the photo below), with a pair of Santa jammie pants now. 

I asked my daughter whether we were going to be allowed to wade neck-deep in Santa lore and legend, now that Valerie is of an age to really get it. I worried that she or my son-in-law would dislike the concept, in a "don't lie to children" sort of way. She said no, they both are good with childhood magic. That's all I needed to hear. This time next week, in between baking pies and gluten-free dinner rolls ahead of the holiday, I'm going to start rounding up all the Santa I can fit into a single month. It is ON.

All I went to Walmart for was a single fresh paintbrush. I came out with $78 worth of stuff, some of which I needed, some I didn't. This is proof that I don't need my shopping buddies with me to get myself in over my head (she says, reaching for her new holographic tumbler, pretending it will encourage her to drink more water). I need to find free hobbies. At least ones I've already invested in before now.

As Seen on TV

Inspirational song: Chrome (Trace Adkins)

Ow. Typing is hard. I used my hands too much. But boy, it was satisfying. I learned an incredibly cool trick from The Googles this afternoon, one that actually did a fantastic job.

Months ago, while Dmitri was still just learning to sit up under his own power, Mr S-P had one of the best scrap heap finds. He was throwing out stuff at the metal recycling center, and he saw one of those Cosco high chairs looking beat up and unloved. This one was a much older style, all metal with a swing action for the steps. It was much closer to the one I remembered from my own grandmother's kitchen, even butter yellow like I think our old one was. 

When he brought this chair home, rather than rolling my eyes and being grossed out by someone else's garbage, I was very excited to restore it. I watch a ton of those restoration videos, where they give new live to rusted out tools or worm-eaten cabinets. This was my chance to play along at home. 

It sat in the garage for months, gaining extra dust and spider egg sacs. It had tools stacked on it. But when we made lunch yesterday for the kids, I knew we had to set Dmitri up next to his sister, to eat his grilled cheese sandwich at the table. (We usually hold him, with good reason. Before I could get his sandwich set down, he had crawled up on the table.) The chair was rusty as all get-out, and had a couple of problematic bolts. I started with coarse sandpaper and immediately stopped to clean it with some Lysol. Then I tried sanding again, this time with the small orbital sander. The results were best described as "meh." I stopped to Google what to do. I scrolled through ratings of rust remover products and advice to soak in vinegar overnight, and then saw something interesting. It said to use aluminum foil to remove rust. I didn't have a lot of faith in that, but I didn't have to drive to a store for this one, so why not?

I mostly used the foil on the chrome legs. I couldn't believe my eyes. It knocked off the crud, made rust disappear, and made the remaining metal look silky smooth. How on earth? The Google says the aluminum gives up an ion to the rusted metal, making it essentially healed. I think I need to see that backed up with a little hard science, but that didn't stop me from going to town on all the chrome parts. I ended up filthy and my hands are sore, but the results are undeniable. Tomorrow I will find the can of pale yellow spray paint I bought a year ago to cover up the rest of this thing.

The Professor At Play

Inspirational song: Beggin' (Måneskin)

Today was enough better than yesterday to be functional. My head didn't hurt, but that didn't mean I had unlimited energy to keep up with toddlers. Man, that is hard work. There is no sleepin' on watching Dmitri. He is fast, clever, strong, and those grabby hands don't want to let go. The brain behind his gorgeous blue eyes seems to move faster than mine, that's for sure. 

Saoirse has discovered that I am open to the idea of taking her with me to pick up kids. I didn't do anything to alert her it was possible, but as soon as I pulled the front door open, she was right there, ready to jump in the car. I can see this becoming a regular thing. But if it keeps her from going stir-crazy, it is an easy "sacrifice" to make. As long as she remains trustworthy between the car and the door, when my hands are full managing kids, we can do this.

I've run myself out of relevant things to talk about. Chasing kids and dogs has left me loopy. I was okay to watch a little television (we finally started season two of Hunters), but neither of us had brain power to watch more than one episode. When did Valerie become easy to communicate with? Was that all the way at two years old, or sooner? I wonder how long Dmitri will require constant hovering over, rather than accepting directions like "don't pick the leaves off of grandma's plants." It will eventually get easier.