Don't be a burden

These pants along with a full basket of laundry

were lost to a tube of oil paint in the drier. How

the heck do you spell dryer anyway?

Now I know this column is called Musings which conjurs up thoughts or amusement and believe me I usually try to keep it light. But, there is nothing amusing about my elderly parents at the moment. Dad is ready for the home and they really can't afford it. Mom is clueless and is thinking she's going to live in a fancy, fancy world without him. Meanwhile the piles of junk mail and piles of clothes in her bedroom may swallow her up altogether. READERS: Please do not move away from your family when you are 75!

I have been praying for a solution and guidance and have only come up with one clear answer. Do nothing. Because they are virtually trapped in their existance and cannot sell the two properties they bought in NC. Perhaps my mother can get him in a nursing home down there and continue to live in the house for a couple of years . . . . Perhaps the solutions will simply unfold. Doubtful, but you never know.

Unrelated thoughts

• While watching a Raiders of the Lost Ark movie last week, Daniel said "This is my favorite singer." It was Elvis singing "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hounddog." That boy's got good taste, I must say.

• In the one in a million department, Doug accidently knocked a tube of unopened turquoise oil paint into my laundry basket of wet clothes. In the course of the drying cycle, all clothes were covered with blotches of turquoise paint. Note: some of the darker clothes are salvagable but I did lose my favorite pants etc.

• Who bathes and washes themselves clean and then puts on the same dirty clothes again? I can think of two boys I know - who are trying to break the habit with my help.

Mid-life Crisis

I believe I was having a true mid-life crisis the other day. I was worrying I might lose my job and this led to me thinking about how I haven't fulfilled my potential. In fact when you look up mid-life crisis on Wikipedia or Google it says just that - something about unfulfilled potential. Men get younger girlfriends and red sports cars. Women take yoga.

Seriously, the crisis led me to realize that I want to achieve something BIG and wish I had aimed higher - a doctor, a lawyer or that I'd developed my own business.

Now I know the trick is to be happy where you are and this is just my ego talking. And I know there is still time. And I know this empty feeling may not go away until I do something great or quiet it with extreme meditation. But I actually think I'd rather do something great. Fifteen minutes of fame is better than no fame at all. . .

Other solutions to disappointment could be: help the less fortunate, talk to friends, change the attitude . . . .

In the last couple weeks this crisis has faded somewhat - not due to anything I've done but due to the fact I have kept my job. You see even though I wish I had aimed higher - this job suits me, my talents, and my lifestyle. I don't want to lose it.

Unrelated thoughts

• This was a note posted near my mother's oven: "Turn oven off when finished cooking." There's nothing like stating the obvious.
• In the extreme patience department (when helping my father who has Parkinson's disease) my thoughts fluctuated between thinking my father has actually become kinder with a debilitating disease to 'let the asshole crumble up and die.' Note: I didn't reveal my thoughts to him.
• Read "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand. It's compelling and makes you realize how lucky we are - even someone with Parkinson's.
  

The Land of Missing Socks

My new sock hopper/garment washer!

Now I know I have written about this before but the sock problem in this house is not going away. You see with three boys and one man, the socks all seem to blend together and get lost. At one point I was going to assign everyone a different color sock but Doug thought he might like a little variety. At another point I had a eureka moment where everyone would simply do their own laundry. This was a good theory and two of the boys do indeed wash their own laundry but there was a possibility I hadn't considered.

The boys don't put their socks in their laundry baskets! They are strewn around the house and often end up in a little pile by the basement door. This doorway leads to the washing apparatus and so that theory has gone right out the window.

Now you may be asking yourself why this is any kind of problem and the answer is because I never get my socks back. I have bought nice $12 tennis socks and am left with only one of the pair. I have also bought nice $12 tennis socks and don't have either one. They are probably in someone else's drawer. And I am sure the same is true for every other household member - we are left with incomplete pairs of socks or no socks at all. It's all very sad.

During another eureka moment, I started buying socks in 'girl' colors and this method isn't half bad. But I think I might have a better solution (see photo at the top).

My mother-in-law bought me this contraption for washing delicate garments but I have decided to use it for my favorite socks. This way they cannot get lost - in the washer. (The dryer may be another matter). All I am saying is that it would be nice to keep/wear a pair of socks for more than a couple of weeks. I'll let you know how this sock washer works out.

Unrelated thoughts

• I don't appreciate it when people say "Been there. Done that." Is that dismissive or what? I vow to never say that phrase.
• At a mini-college reunion over New Years Eve one friend called our lot "underachievers." I agreed but look what all those underachievers have become. One has a painting business, a couple are teachers, one has a succe$$ful mortgage business and another has a high level government job. Not bad. And by the way, I did not have bland friends. These people are characters of the best kind - smart, quirky, witty, and they like to have a good time.

Next time: My Mid-life crisis re-visited. Can you stand the suspense?