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?

Maybe you can help me

I was browsing in the feminine, sanitary products aisle the other day at CVS when I noticed another customer browsing right where I wanted to browse. He was an elderly, energetic man who quickly seized his prey. "Maybe you can help me. I am looking for vacation-size underpants?" (I am pretty sure this is what he said).

I quickly responded, "You mean underwear?" (In a home survey, Matthew said he would have simply asked instead, "What are vacation-size underpants?" - but my response wasn't half bad).

He nodded in the affirmative and I directed him to the fine underwear selection at CVS. His wife was apparently in the hospital and they don't provide vacation size underpants there. (I am still wondering if he was looking for Depends or something else entirely). In any event, I asked him about his wife's size and he told me she was about my height. Now just between you and me I don't think height is how you figure out what size underwear to buy. I tried again, "Is she big?" I held my hands out about a yard apart. No, no she wasn't big.

Knowing that I am about a size 7, I directed him to the size 8s because most older women seem to have a little extra padding. He seemed to think this would get her through her hospital stay and he thanked me for my help.

In the disillusioned category

I just found out that Christopher Plummer did not perform his own singing in The Sound of Music. It was the dubbed in voice of Bill Lee. They had me fooled. I am still in shock.

When I remarked to my mother that a woman in our old neighborhood seemed a little odd (what I really meant was manly I think), my mother calmly explained that when she was born she had both parts and her parents had to decide if she was a boy or girl. I can't imagine. This had me more floored than the dubbed voice of Bill Lee.

What if I could wake up and do whatever I wanted? I would write/publish/succeed with an incredible book or two, develop a course, have a successful album or two, sell songs, invent things, have my own business, own real estate, travel/travel - and why not wake up and think that way?

I am feeling sad (for lack of a better word) about a new year's gathering of old college friends. It's 8 hours away . . .and I'm certain Doug will not want to go and I don't want to go alone. It would make for a harried few days. Do I simply committ to a futute gathering to make myself feel better and follow thru next time? I so want to go, but the effort is just daunting.

Learning to read

So Daniel and I are waiting behind a car at the light with lots of bumper stickers to read to pass the time. It's the light in Wakefield where an elderly woman was killed, so the wait time is terminally long. For those of you who don't have a first grader at home - he is really just learning to read. As I declined to read him all of the bumper stickers (one in particular), he figured it out all by himself. This sticker guy was obviously a Red Sox fan.

"Take your 26 rings and shove them up your ass" the sticker read.

After Daniel successfully read this out loud he remarked, "That's not a nice bumper sticker."

There was also a cartoon of what looked like Calvin peeing on a Yankees symbol . . .

Unrelated thoughts

-Health has gotten complicated and it shouldn't be. I can't keep track of all the good and bad things I am supposed to ingest and avoid. Which ones have the most pesticides? Which ones have the least? Which have the most antioxidants? I don't bother to even worry about it and just try to eat healthy. Isn't that the best and simplest thing, really?

-From last time: The one thing that can fix itself (not the dryer, computer, kitchen sink) is the human body. It's amazing.

-How many Celtic singers in prom dresses can one PBS viewer take?

-Even 35 degrees and sunny is pretty nice at this point.

-I am becoming my mother. My eyes have gotten smaller in my head. I now have a larger purse. I have a short haircut. I have morphed into what she used to look like, at my age. And if I wear my glasses, watch out, I am a dead ringer.

-There's alot of testosterone in this house.

The most romantic dream

I am not sure if I was the man or woman in this dream because the couple really seemed as one.

They were cozy and cuddling. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulder as they sat in a restaurant booth. She touched the side of his head and brushed his hair with her hand. He brings her finger to his lips. She brushes his lips lightly with her long thin finger. He can't resist and leans in for a kiss.

"No, not here," she says.

"I can't help it," and he continues the kiss.

Her lips respond and she kisses him back.

"You kissed me back," he says.

"I couldn't help it," she smiles.

He leans back and closes his eyes in bliss. When the woman asks if he is falling asleep he remarks, "I've died and gone to heaven."

Unrelated thoughts

• I know this sounds crazy but only recently did I realize that Olive Oil from the Popeye cartoons was named after, well, olive oil - the food product.
• Daniel asked, "What does anxiety mean?" I said, "Do you have anxiety?" and continued, "It's fear or when you get upset about something. Where'd ya hear that?" "I don't know it just popped into my head," he said.
• Wouldn't it be great if things actually fixed themselves. I am talking about things like computer printers, vacuums, cars. Admit it, don't you sometimes think that little noise will go away, just disappear and all will be well again.
• When Doug's uncle asked me at Thanksgiving if I was thinking about another one (child), I almost laughed in his face. "George, I will be 45 on Sunday. I think it's too late . . . . ."
• "Thanks for God and Jesus - because if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here." Daniel is happy to be alive and this is his Sunday School training coming thru loud and clear.
• Getting new sneakers was and is still one of the best feelings in the world.
• I think I may have said this last time but 46 degrees and sunny is pretty damn nice. And I wouldn't have thought that a few months ago, either.
• Part of me hates disgustingly disciplined people who can take one square of a big, beautiful dark chocolate bar and stop at that.
• Cooking can be a real pleasure with time and the right frame of mind i.e. relaxed.
• There's a 14 hour/week writing job at URI. Should I appy? Is it beneath me? Or am I simply scared I might get it - not like it and/or fail? Did I mention I am not sure if I will have a job in a couple weeks and my current job has been cut back to 30 hours/week?

It was the best of times, it was the worse of times

The day Daniel wore this wig to school for Crazy Hair Day

he declared: "This is the best day of my life." Later that

afternoon the day became "the worst day of my life" due to

par for the course squabbling with his brother.

Other Danielisms:

• When I said "It's 47 degrees, a little cool." Daniel said, "I don't care. I'm a man." A man indeed.
• Vocabulary questions from Daniel who is 7! "What is pedestrian?," "What does altruistic mean?," and "What does empathetic mean?" These were asked in rapid fire fashion while walking into his swim lesson. I tell Doug they are all smarter than we were but came to find out Doug used to get straight As before he became interested in other things. . .
• "Matt, you entertain yourself for a minute," Daniel said in the nicest way possible while involved in an activity with his brother Matthew.
• "My feet feel so good after a good night's sleep."
• "I tell people I'm Wilfork," said Daniel while puffing out his stomach. Vince Wilfork is the sumo wrestler substitute who plays on the line for the Patriots.
• "How come I'm the only one who doesn't have a cell phone?" Daniel asked. "Because you're 7," I answer.
• "Where did he hear that?" wondered Doug and Michael in response to several of the quotations above.

Unrelated thoughts

-I don't know why but lately I've been noticing bad dye jobs. You know the type where the roots are growing out and the darker hair looks like someone poured furniture polish on that head.

-"Michael's room smells like a teenage boy." This was uttered by the woman who cleans our house. She must be smelling some mixture of hormones and B.O.

-In discussing liquid diets at my tennis group one woman declared, "I like food." I agreed and remarked, "Yes, I've been eating food my whole life."

Next time: I will recount a romantic dream I had.