The Night Before

Sept 30th, 2015, was the last full day of my Mother's life. She died October 30th right around dinner time. A year has slipped by and I cannot believe Mom has left the Planet. As fragile as she was, I always expected her to live longer than she did. Though I can't imagine making it to 88 myself.

Chicken!

Visited my Mom in Oberlin last week, and I have finally mastered cooking chicken. My problem has really been lack of a roaster that isn't the size of the Capitol Dome, but I figured out that I can use my cast iron dutch oven if the chicken isn't too big. So last night I invited Gonzo over for dinner, and for once I was satisfied with the chicken. Gravy, not so much.

Summer Receding

The first sign that the end is near is Johnny commenting that the sunlight has turned from yellow to silver. The next is when the sound of cicadas bursts from underlying consciousness into full throat ("notice us, notice us! we will soon be dead and gone, notice us!!) And the third is the morning that I am sitting in the bathtub shaving my legs and there are suddenly goosebumps meeting with the slim blade sliding over my leg.

That goosebump thing happened this morning and put me on notice that Miss Summer is sidling toward the door. It's been a summer to remember. A Canadian beach vacation that ranks as one of the best of my life. Grandchildren on the beach, Dark & Stormy rum drinks, food shared around a dining room table with a genuine crystal chandelier overhead. After that there was Dad's Funeral Gathering/Stewart Bash at the family farm involving ginger molasses ice cream! river trips! ashes to beech! (we buried Dad's ashes under a beech tree dug from the surrounding woods). Followed by a week of the Harvey Family at our house ~ I was in heaven to wake up to Osh every morning. Bike rides, horsie rides, cardboard castles, backyard pool parties, thunder storms, party barge on the Ohio River, and last but not least, Red Buoy!

Heather Harvey, here is the link to The Jim Bowie Song, which John and I attempt to sing every time Oscar starts talking about the red buoy in the Ohio River. Every single boy or girl who was between the ages of 6-12 in the 1950's knows this song. (Seriously, try it on a few in my generation.) Even if you sing 'Red Buoy' instead of 'Jim Bowie', said old person will know exactly what you're talking about and start singing along. They might not get far beyond "a bold adventurous man", but one never knows. When I am old and you are visiting me in the nursing home, you must come swinging gaily down the hall singing this song and all us old folks will be lifted up as you tap into the only memories we probably have left. OK, is that morbid?

Crackers

Can I just say here how much I love crackers? I'm plumb in the middle of emptying a box of ak-maks, probably my favorite cracker in the world. Especially when they're overdone like this box.

And speaking of things I love, I received a message on the phone this morning from Oscar. It was left entirely by him (OK, Papa was coaching a bit in the background.) "Whis. BB. I want to chat. I love you." Talk about having a hand reach in and rip your heart right out of you. How I am missing my boi, seems so long since I have seen him. The Bash can't come soon enough. He'll be 2 years old on June 23rd.

Happy New Year

Summer Waning

Savoring. Like the last few cookies in the tin. Or the last meal shared when you're visiting people you love. Miss Summer's clothing is looking a bit dried out and yellowed. Ms. Fall is gearing up for the sleek spare look of bare branches and revealing outlines.

But there are still tomatoes ripening on the vine, plenty of pungent marigold blossoms and warm days. The difference is that just like the final day that your child ever fell asleep in your lap, you never know which warm day will be the last.

A grand visit with my 83-year-old Mom to places southward was had last week, and I'm savoring that too. Grandson (Great Grandson to Mom) was his very sweet self, signing and eating and making every sound you can imagine. Mom and I got to babysit while parents were at a movie. Big fun. The Grannies got plenty silly when the parents drove off!

I feel so grateful for my life. Poised in the middle between generations is a great place to be. I'm not the matriarch yet, and my daughter is full of piss and vinegar, up to every task. So this place I now inhabit feels like a bit of a breather. I know I was once a young powerhouse, but the memory of that is fading fast.

A great day off today, but time to get to bed. Tomorrow is the start of a 4-day work stint.

Spring Ruminations

My husband is off on a family rescue mission, so I've a few days alone. It's not wise to leave me alone for long, but a few days does allow me to feel more fully myself in terms of the daily rhythms of life.

Max is hiding under the bed this month, as he does every May. The good news is that four years into it, I've given up the Chicken Little routine and just accepted that April and May will do their damndest to convince us that we're going out of business. But seriously, who would go buy a mattress when they could walk along the river, dig in their garden and just get out of the house any way possible.

I am grateful upon waking to be relieved of the grind of the furnace, to step out of the shower without goosebumps, to open the kitchen window and enjoy the hours when my neighbor is not obsessively mowing his yard. Yesterday Patrick brought over the asparagus we ordered, and I spent the evening digging a trench in the rain. Thank heavens for YouTube ~ one can find out how to do most anything, including preparing an asparagus bed. Growing stuff is exactly like painting. People think that the big deal is when you get out the brush and have at it. That's the least of the job. It's all about the prep. The actual planting of the asparagus took about five minutes. The bed prep took me three hours. But oddly enough, I had everything I needed to amend the soil. I couldn't help wondering if we will ever eat any asparagus out of that bed since it's two years before cutting.

Organic seed potatoes should be delivered today. Hope my body can hold up to another planting session!

Oscar Movies

One of my favorite things to do is iChat with Oscar. But watching Oscar videos is a close second. Check this one out:
www.flickr.com/photos/8104808@N06/5565884304/in/photostream/

The Long March Hill

Mother and I always wonder if when traversing the Long March Hill, one is traveling straight up, April 1st being the top of the hill. Or if you go up and down and on April 1st one is standing in the foothills knee deep in rich soil ready for planting seeds. We have come to no conclusion on this, but I'm starting to think it might be different every year. Two nights ago I came down at 4 in the morning to a blanket of snow, so we're definitely not anywhere near the foothills yet.

I still feel insanely miserable. Three days and counting. How will I ever muster the patience to die when I can't even be patient with being sick for a week? I've spent the last three days trying to figure out how I can kill myself when the time comes. The option currently at the top of the list is jumping off a sheer cliff onto rocks far below as that has the added bonus of flying at the end. The problem will be how to get up to the cliffs..... I'm working on that.

We're having our usual spring trials here, which seem to come in 3's. The furnace motor conked out on Sunday morning, the basement door had to be rebuilt, and I'm hoping that number three will not be the roof leaking. The last time that happened, we spent over $5000 before I got up there myself and shoved some sheet metal under five rows of tiles. It's still there.

Help me Obie-wan.

Dammit

I've got a fucking cold...... and I don't even LIKE girl scout cookies.

Sun's out, but I'm dripping snot and still having chills. WTF, over? I did go out and water the peas. I should be planting greens and onions today, but just not up to it.

Japanese Earthquake

Been glued to the computer screen as images of the destruction in Japan are everywhere. It is a disaster beyond imagining. Could not sleep last night as the images kept roving around my brain. I continue to think of all the people who are cold, thirsty and hungry and also of the pollution of our planet through this event. We are such a toxic species! The plutonium is the most concerning aspect of the nuclear meltdowns, and just like with the BP oil spill, I think officials always seek to put the best face on it. I am sure that the situation is dire.

My joy in life continues to be the Jolly Rancher in Asheville. Thank the Goddess for iChat, as I get to see his smiling face often and hear his little crow and see his darling four teeth.

Sun's out, I've got the day off and a lunch date. I'm outta here!

7 Months Gone

Holy cow, seven months since the last post. And dang, if I'm not sitting in the very same chair at work and thinking the very same thing about XM radio. Whew, need to do something about that situation!

In the meantime, winter happened. I recently thought it was spring, but came down to a kitchen window vista of pure white this morning. Mother said on the phone the other day, "We haven't even started up the long March hill." I am soaking pea seeds in anticipation of Monday, when it will be 45 degrees and I will plant them by the fence behind our new baby red maple.

Other news: I broke a blood vessel on the bottom of my foot. Very painful, now more like having a rock in my shoe. I try not to complain about it, no doubt I will soon absorb it into the large and growing stable of "crap that is happening to me as I age".

Well, back to work. It's so much more fun to read Heather's blog than to write my own.

Worker Bee

I may have to go postal if XM radio doesn't quit playing THE SAME music over and over. I mean, how much music is there out there in the world? Need we really hear the same tired awful tune more than once?

John is on vacation in Canada with his kids, says he's having a great time. So we're keeping it going here at the Max ~ me, Jess, Jordan. Yesterday was the day from hell, but I've moved on. Mancan sent another 19-year-old to help me with the yard this morning. Finally ~ someone who knew how to work! Turns out he's facing felony marijuana dealing charges in some southern state with a possible 1-10. He's terrified that he's going to jail. Here's this young man, raised on a farm, full of piss and vinegar, able (unlike most Americans) to do a full day of physical work and we're going to put him away for years on a marijuana charge. WTF?

Oscar continues to be the high spot in my life. His hematoma is all gone, and damn if he doesn't look like his Mother at that age. I have GOT to find those photos for her, but there is never enough time to cover all the necessary bases here, let alone have time for mucking around in boxes in the attic. I dream about having a month off.

Oscar

OK..... All righty then. And other expressions that convey the lack of appropriate words for a life event.

My Grandson, Oscar Stewart Harvey, arrived in Asheville, NC, at 1:11 in the morning exactly 15 days ago, June 23rd. My world is forever changed as my daughter is forever changed.

Ben called me from the hospital around 8:15 to tell me that she was in full bore labor. I agonized for 45 minutes (while making two big pans of shitaki stuffed shells), before deciding to try and get some sleep. I had just worked a full day at our business, and had not slept well for two nights before. I took the last sleeping pill in my emergency stash and slept until 3am. The kitchen floor had been littered with my birth luggage for over a week, so it was a quick pack, a sweet sleepy kiss for my Johnny in the bed, and off in my husband's 18-year-old Mercedes. (We secretly pray to any God or Goddess who is listening whenever we venture on a road trip in our extremely old cars.) The longest trip to Asheville EVER ensued, something like 10 hours. Guess what? There's lots and lots of mountain fog at 4 in the morning, not to mention drenching rainstorms, stimulus construction, and a bladder that would not quit reminding me how excited I was and how much I feared for my Heather. She had been carrying Oscar just the way I had carried her, and I knew that he would be a big baby.

Sometime around 6 am, I got a call on my cell from Heater, who sounded otherworldly, telling me that I was now a Grandmother of a 10-pound baby boy and that, yes, she was all right. She had courageously labored and pushed him into this world in what has to be record time for a first BIG baby, 9 hours. She did it without drugs, without doctors, with the help of her midwives. I have honestly never felt a huge amount of pride over Heather's many accomplishments, mostly because she was in every way developmentally so far ahead of her peers in life no matter what her age. But in that moment, not far past sunrise in the mountains, I was bursting with pride for my scrappy girl.

So, Oscar. I have GOT to learn how to put up photos. Phenomenally cute with lots of black hair. When I arrived at the hospital, she was nursing, still high on the birth after 24 hours with no sleep. From that point on, things get a little fuzzy for me. Polly and Bob showed up with food at some point. I know I went to Heather and Ben's house and started cleaning as we were all hoping that they could come back home the next morning. The next morning I got a call from Heather saying that Oscar had been transferred to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for high respiration rate and high white blood cell count. 

More later...

Gosh

Well, haven't posted for three weeks, and yes, May has turned out to be one incredibly sucky month on the business front. But on the bright side, my Brother and I visited 8-month pregnant Heater 'n Ben and that was a blast. They put on an early birthday party for Ben (turning 33 on May 30th), and we got to meet some of their friends and eat a WHOLE lot of fabulous food. Their garden is a thing of beauty, there is nothing like Garden TV, just sitting on the front porch staring at things growing. Almost as good as Chicken TV in the backyard, staring at the girls pecking at whatever takes their fancy. Long drive back home, but veggies at Tamarck along the way. Our butts were so sore ~ old butts just don't hold up to that much sitting!

I've spent three days digging up one bed in the backyard. It's where the old railroad tie terrace was, so I can't grow veggies there, which would be my preference. But I put in some sunflowers for the birds and some nasturtiums for me. There are already three pretty big volunteer sunflowers in that bed and a squash right on the fence line that I decided to leave even though it's a veggie. Probably not much chance that it will produce anything, so what the hey! I have to work all day tomorrow, but I'm hoping to get up early and finish the other end of that bed. I'm so far behind with planting things this year.

Cool as a Cucumber

Today the weather cooled off a bit, thank the Goddess. Overheated springs remind me of rushed orgasms ~ it's all good, but you know it should have lasted way longer. I like to enjoy my dogwood blossoms and my new garden lettuce.

Life keeps rolling along in high gear. Soon Heather will deliver little Mr. Busy down in Asheville, NC. I have loved watching the two newlyweds create their space and am in awe of how very deliberate they are. Life just sort of happens to you at 20; in your early thirties it's a whole different story. I do think the 30's crowd is more cognizant of their suffering, but then again, just more conscious in general about everything.

Business sucks for the month of May, it was well be our waterloo of the year. But then again, if Wall Street computers have their way, they may crash the whole dang financial system. High-speed trading my ass. I think they should de-deregulate the whole deal and make them all go back to the trading floor ~ get their greedy little asses out from in front of their computers, those financial Masters of the Universe.

Gonzo's Birthday

Well, it's really the new year cause today's is my Brother's birthday. He turns 53 today. I came home from work yesterday and there was a voice message from him wishing us "Happy New Year". He and I have decided that 2010 is "The Year of the Monkey Smackdown", the year that we're finally going to make some forward progress on the big backlog of crap that's dropped through the cracks since Dad crashed and burned up at the farm two years ago this Feb. It was a real downhill spiral for both of us for quite some time after that event. So we're gearing up to get back on top of that wave!

Gotta Give it a Rest

The news, that is. Lately, I've realized that what I'm missing most in my life is hope..... a la Wiki: a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. The conundrum at this stage of the game is that all the major passages of life are behind you with the exception of death, and that most of what is bright and challenging and new belongs to the generation in the prime of life, aka, not you.

My time with my Dad has brought home to me the vagaries of age, how most of us don't die overnight but in small dribs and drabs every day, the same way in which we advanced to the peak of our power and wisdom. I find it difficult to have hope when what's in my sights is death and decay and the realization that the best years of my life are gone, and compliments of the daily news, the best years of Planet Earth along with them.

So my quest in 2010, Year of the Monkey Smackdown, is to figure out a way to put hope back in my life. Paul Krugman has suggested that we refer to this past decade as The Big Zero, and I'm inclined to agree. Maybe the next decade will turn out to be The One. I hope so. 

Grandgremlins

Christmas this year turned into unadulterated Baby Worship. There was Cameron in the flesh, and the promise of another sweet warm baby to come. John and I were tired by the time the 25th rolled around, having worked brutal non-stop retail right up to the last minute Christmas Eve. But what I'm finding is that Baby Worship doesn't take much energy. No doing, just a lot of being. You can't worship a baby unless your attention is completely focused on said bundle. It's all about the connection ~ through your hands, your eyes, your voice. Every time I'm with Cameron, I'm transported back to that magical world I discovered when I had Heather ~ the world where everything you're doing has meaning, feels totally natural and right, and is the culmination of all the skill sets you ever learned or knew innately.

So I'm enjoying our three grandchildren ~ two little girls from afar, and one big boy right here on the street where I live. And come the end of June, there will be another sweet bundle down in North Carolina to cuddle and get to know.

The Power of Voice

Back when I was teaching parenting classes, one of the mind-boggling facts I shared with parents is that fully 38% of communication is strictly through tone of voice. The words are totally secondary (7%), so it's all about inflection and tempo and nuance of vocal chord. And guess what? It's freaking true.

This morning I called my sister-in-law, Kelli, to ask about her holiday and plot to celebrate January birthdays. It was our usual chit chat of catch up, but her tone of voice, her musical laughter, her infectious happiness turned my "day off" of cleaning and bookwork into a little oasis of sharing and love.

Thanks for the great Christmas present Kelli!

Sun Worship

Every work day I feel gratitude for the 80 feet of glass across the front of our store, even though it looks out on the Speedway gas station across the street. I can still appreciate the sunny days, watch the snow, see the moon rise. It's total chaos out there in the rest of the world weather wise, but here in the Ohio Valley we are untouchable so far this winter! Fabulous dustings of snow, blue sunny days, enough rain to make it interesting.

Breathe deeply, let go

Today is one of those days where I must stifle myself. Though I have long criticized my husband's family in terms of not addressing emotional issues, I'm finally learning that there are times and places where it's just not productive or worth it. I used to attribute this type of silence to a lack of caring, but I now realize sometimes it's more about greasing the wheels of relationship and saving your energy for survival. Still doesn't feel right or good, but it takes time to change a perspective. The first step is to quit acting on directives from the Mother Ship.

So I'm out here in my little row boat today, exploring the islands.

Late Night at MM

One hour left to go of a 10-hour day here at the Max. Actually not true, John relieved me for an hour so I could get a massage. One hour on the table sure makes a 9-hour day bearable.

Our first cold snap and my hands suddenly look like alligator skin no matter how much lotion there is in the world. Bad bad hair day, the perm was such a misguided idea. The only thing that looks worse than straight gray hair is curly gray hair! Jesus, I feel like a geriatric Shirley Temple. So last night in the five minutes in the bathroom before jumping into bed I took the small blue scissors and went after it. Looks pretty awful but I feel better, like somehow I have had my revenge. Hey, I don't have to look at it most of the day.

My current favorite hubby quote, "Next time you feel like getting a perm........don't."

Sigh.

2:36 AM

May I just say how very tired I am of not getting eight contiguous hours of sleep every night? I wonder how many other menopausal women are sitting in front of their computers right now? or folding socks? or reading in bed? or reading downstairs where it's freezing because they don't want to wake up their partner who appears to be in stage 11 sleep?

I read a few days ago that the only real disability is a bad attitude (see paragraph one). Said by someone with a pretty sizable disability. I've been thinking about attitude a lot since then. Due to our situation here, I've been putting some pretty serious energy behind just taking things as they are, not worrying about the future, trusting that we'll figure something out no matter what happens. And I'm finding that it leaves the way open to shut off my brain which is forever trying to figure things out, running down this path and that. Staying in the moment seems to leave some space to enjoy myself more in the here and now, and to figure out my version of "a good attitude".

Ty and Kate brought exactly 3-month old Cameron over for a visit tonight. Our first "crying" visit. Note: Crying babies are cute if they are not yours. I could tell that he was majorly overdone and needed to get home and be rocked to sleep. His little body was tight, fists clenched and pulled up to his chest as he wailed out his discomfort. John and I are both hopelessly in love with the squirming bundle of life. I swear that we could both be totally happy just sitting around in rockers never getting dressed, passing him back and forth.

Gray

Bordering on balmy out there, but exceedingly gray. We do love the sun, there is nothing like those beaming rays to remind us how great it is to be alive on Planet Earth.

Lots of gray paint this morning to go with the gray sky. I'm on the second half of the porch deck and had the great idea this morning that I would sand out the bugs, twigs, leaves and tennis shoe footprints from my windy paint job the other day. Not. That industrial enamel is nothing to fool around with. If you've got a bug interred in it, might as well give it up unless you want to sand the whole mess down to the undercoat. Proving once again that if you screw something up, making it whole again is a whole lot more work than you ever thought it would be. Like teeth, for instance. Once those babies pass a certain point, it's like resurrecting the dead. I have one tooth in my mouth that probably has had close to $5000 in dental work slavered on it over the last 20 years. Totally freaking preventable. Sigh.

Pomegranate Fest

Yup. Three for $5 at Kroger's, and they are big and full of tasty jewels ~ we have eaten two already. John looked them up in Wikipedia because we didn't know anything about them. Enjoy ye East Coast fans, as they are gifts from the Magi and when we arrive at the post-oil future, you will not be able to grow these babies in your backyard.

So now my husband is an expert at how to peel a pomegranate, compliments of his research, and he's quite the manager now, which is totally funny as he's never had the slightest interest in how the seeds get from There to Here. I'm leaving the last one to him.

This week, compliments of all four of our very part-time employees falling to the flu in the past few weeks, they are all clamoring to come to work now. And since I am totally burnt out on Max due to covering their butts (or covering John's butt while he covers their butt), I'm only scheduled for three days this week. Yee-haw. Front porch project, here I come. I think anyway. I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday and it's mighty sore today!

Mostly Sunny (no quotes this time)

No waiting for Mr. Sun today, he was bustin' out as I entered the kitchen this morning where my honey had eggs and pancakes waiting. Does it get any better than that?

My little old man was back from yesterday, and I had to patiently listen to all his stories once again as he proceeded to pay for his mattress set. Note to self:  Don't get old. He also spoke poorly of his children, who were obviously trying to help him. Note to self: Appreciate your children.

So far so good on October sales ~ always a relief to have a gangbusters opening salvo on the month. That way there's hope that you could end up with a really stellar month, and if that doesn't pan out, at least you didn't spend the first two weeks agonizing that the business is going broke for sure. The rollercoaster of retail. I keep trying to process the lesson in this wild ride. Take things a day at a time. Rely on facts, not emotions. Take the long view. Enjoy the highs when they happen. See what I mean about the lesson? Very hard for me to tease out. Or how about this: you shouldn't be in retail sales. Ha ha. Can't go there right now.

"Mostly Sunny"

OK, weather underground, it's 10am and I'm waiting....

I am, of course, in my annual "Race for the Weather", for which there is no cure. It involves procrastinating until the last minute on crucial outdoor painting projects, which, if left undone, will leave large expanses of porch wood to rot in the winter weather to come.

Yesterday was a comedy of errors. Firstly, cute grandbaby shows up early for a session with Jampa Whis and is mesmerizing....resulting in late start on the porch enamel final coat, which is the "easy" finale to major sanding, patching, caulking and two coats of oil-based primer. Ha ha. Got to go to work, so it's a hurry up deal and the wind is blowing five miles an hour out of the NE (this house has turned me into a complete weather geek).....

I went out to peruse it this morning and it looks like a work of modern art with every colorful autumn leaf, twig and bug within miles stuck into it. It's might pretty, I've gotta admit. I can finally laugh about it, but yesterday I was pretty pissed. In fact, I had such a twist in my panties trying to pull leaves out on the backside of the job that I ended up walking through part of it, so there's the added textural interest of black running shoe imprints among the leaves and bugs. I wish I knew how to post a photo so everyone could see my masterpiece.

Next year, I am spending the entire summer painting the porch. For once, I'm going to do it right, do it on time, and welcome the Autumn with time to carve pumpkins and do fun fall stuff. I would so love to be that together.

Oh Dear!

My poor honey pulled a muscle in his back yesterday. He's gimping around and looks miserable ~ all that from bending over and cleaning a toilet. Just goes to show that we can be teetering on the edge sometimes and all it takes is a little push. I've been after him to get a massage for weeks now. In future, I will make the appointment for him!

Lady Luck

Or Sir Luck, or perhaps, just plain old Luck ~ the good or bad fortune in life caused by accident or chance which happens beyond a person's control.


One of the many things I've learned compliments of my current stint at retail is that much of what happens in the world has no rhyme or reason whatsoever. Unless you engage in something on a regular basis that points up this reality for you, one tends to assume that most risk can be managed, that cause and effect is how the world turns, that we're masters of our own destiny.


I assure you, this comforting world view is a pleasant fiction. 

Case in point: we can do the same thing here at retail month after month with dramatically differing results. Same number of TV spots, same message, same service, same hours, same everything. One month we're thinking we've got the world by the tail, the very next month we're bleeding cash.


So what's a girl to do? Quit tearing my hair out for starters. Stop pretending that every little thing I say or do has some specific karmic ripple in the universe. It's not that I intend to quit managing risk by making good decisions or that I think it's futile to live a rational life, but I do think that many of my disappointments in life would have been less galling if I'd realized earlier on that very often Lady Luck is sitting across from me and she's been dealt a full house right off the bat.


Fold it. Go home. Have a hot bath. Nuzzle your lover's neck. Give thanks for your great mattress, your cotton sheets, your new pillow and the balm of sleep.

Leaves, Glorious Leaves

What a summer it's been.

All summer long my farm childhood has been brought to the fore by the spectacular growing season we've had. Even now, the rains seem to arrive with regularity. Not driving rains, but gentle growing rains, keeping the leaves green and stuck to their branches. Our 20-year-old almost dead box elder in the back still has leaves; even in its prime it was naked by mid-August.

I'm sanding and patching and painting the front porch...... again. I love our big old mansion and the expansive wooden porch with four white columns. But it's made of.........ha ha.... wood that's 100 years old next year. And that had no maintenance for many decades. It's time for another major overhaul; I've found the man, now I need to find the money. I'd been eyeing his ad for months and months ~ one of those little one inch by one inch ads in the local service directory. The line that got me was "a master cabinet maker for your porch". So when my finger went through a board in front of the column to weather, I finally called. And he appears to be the man for the job. If only our business would cooperate on the money front.

I know. I know. It's ridiculous to spend all that money on a porch you can't even sit on and converse with another human because of the traffic noise. But one never knows. Maybe the bridge will get hit by a plane, maybe they'll build the North Muskingum Bridge one day. Maybe there will be complete economic collapse at some point and we'll all be walking and biking and hosting chickens in the backyard in violation of health ordinances.

We can only take care of what's in front of us now, and what's in front of me is my peeling rotting porch.