Aaaaaand... a bump in the road

Sooooo....
That new drivetrain? The one that came out of the same vehicle we have basically? Yeah. Won't fit. The transmission is 3 inches longer, and the bolt pattern is different. Jim took copious pictures, and took those with him when he went to look at the drivetrain, to guard against just such an event. But, there you have it. When they're sitting side by side, and a guy has a tape measure in hand, things are much more tangible.

Now, interestingly enough, it seems that getting this old thing, and following the signs to the parts to get it put together has led us to a much better vehicle.
Jim picked up an engine stand Thursday from a guy close by us. He and his fiance are selling everything and moving to Arizona. He's got a Chevy RV sitting in the yard. It belonged to his parents, it's in great shape, 75,000 original miles, and he wants $1800 for it. We're going to put this RV we have up for sale, along with the engine and transmission, and buy that one.
So, while Jim was kind of feeling defeated and frustrated by this turn of events, it occurred to us that, well, if he hadn't gone to get the stand, he wouldn't have met this guy, or found this vehicle. It's not on craigslist, it doesn't have a For Sale sign, nothing. We literally wouldn't have ever found it if we hadn't gotten the one we have. So, this was all maybe just a test to see how dedicated we are to this whole notion. I guess we pass muster!

In other news...
An entire sweater for a tall scrawny young man is almost done. I think it's long enough finally. We'll see I guess. I know the arm is long enough, because it's long enough for his dad. I've lengthened the body twice now. It's 24 inches from the back of the neck to the hem. I'll have to go corner him and shove it over his head again.

I've finished a fun gift for a lovely young woman who will be all growed up offishul-like sometime in the next week or so here. She's about to move into a little house with her adored boyfriend, so I thought a fun wallhanging would be appreciated. I hope Andy likes unicorns.

I'm going to have to come up with a couple more things though. 21 is kind of a significant birthday from what I'm told. And of course she specifically requested Bar Money. How's $21 bucks sound, kid? HA! Like she's going to have to buy her own drinks... I guess point more being she can.


Also...
Spring! Happy Equinox out there, folks! Sadly, I missed the supermoon last night, but man oh man! Spring has come to western Michigan! It is raining cats and dogs today, all the snow will be washed away by morning, and there are crocuses blooming! Rilo got out for the first loooong walk this past week, and was that little doggie-girl ever excited to see her leash! Thought she might take the whole door down, she was in such a hurry!

Connor continues to do wild and woolly things, never ceasing to amaze. He got new shoes this week, as it is now sneaker weather again. Fastest shoe shopping trip evah! Went to Target, he spotted 'THE shoes' immediately; Spiderman, with light-up webs on the side! We discovered that he wears a size 12 (!) now, which means he got them on the big guy side of the aisle, rather than the little guy side. This was Tuesday. Wednesday morning he leapt from bed, called out, "C'mon, Gramma! Let's get me to school!" He was dressed and downstairs, in those shoes, before I was fully conscious. Then, of all crazy, unexpected things, he is brushing his own hair!! Big guy shoes turned him into a really big guy, at least for one morning. LOL! He was earnin' some preschool street cred with those babies, lemme tell you! Huh-larious!!! Another awesome step forward is his interest and ability to make his own fruit salad. Cuttin' up strawberries and bananas... he was so impressed to show that skill off to Ellie and Amber, young lady friends of 6 and almost 8 who came to dinner last night. While waiting for the lame grown-ups to quit yakking and order some pizza already! he proudly cut a lovely bowl of strawberries for each of them. What a nifty guy! Now, if he'd just stop filling up my camera memory with pictures of his butt...

 Crafty goodness continues unabated. Working on some flowers, crocheted from various and sundry material. I like ribbon! It is shiny, and it doesn't split when crocheting! But... it comes in such little spools! I have a ribbon sunflower almost done, but no more bright yellow. I'm out, and, sadly JoAnn is out too. I did get the center completed, so yay for that!!

*sigh*
Maybe soon... I guess I'll have to make do with my yarns. Rough life. I know, I know. And the daffodil and columbine I made with yarn are so very, very awesome! No pics of those yet...

In the next weeks, I'm going to be doing some writing/processing of the last few years of our lives here. I've had some epiphanies about a bunch of stuff, and I need to get it down and out. Along with that, I'll be writing more about the crafting, getting my etsy shop, zoesdyedreams, up and running, and continuing to chronicle the saga of the RV. My goal is to take an hour a couple days a week, and focus on one area. So, if you wanna come along, I'd love the company!

Peace out there, ya'll.

Thoughts about holidays...

So, this comes from a novel-length comment I left on the blog of digthischick and her thoughts about Christmas, traveling for Christmas, taking on a bunch and forgetting 'important' things, and finding the actual importance of 'things'. And list making to help the forgetting things thing.

Mostly those of you reading this know me IRL. You know that I don't do ginormous present giving, but I like to decorate a lot, and I like to cook and feed people a lot. And you know about my health challenges this fall, and can reach the conclusion that I was totally off my holiday game. And that this was hard on me, but I found great freedom in letting go. Just, accepting what I was and was not able to do, and finding peace with that. So, some of my thoughts and lessons learned with illness over the holidays.

This year, I have learned a whole whole lot. This year, I’m not healthy, and the treatment for my not-healthiness makes me tiiiirrrred, and sick much of the week, and really unable to do much of anything. Including have a job, which means we’ve cut the income by over half. Which means, with those things combined, both Thanksgiving and Christmas were extremely low-key events. For the woman who makes a dozen pies, muffins, rolls, cookies and a cake just to get started, usually for about 5 or 6 people, coming up with 3 pies, and going all vegan for my son with very simple food, was great for Thanksgiving. And nobody had any less enjoyment of hanging out. I laid down in the living room, and listened to my lovely son play his dad’s guitar. The kid’s got chops. I napped happy.

Christmas, I managed to get boxes in the mail to 2 households in CA (well, 3, but 2 are neighbors… my mom, brother and sil, so one box for them, yay! and one for SoCA) on TUESDAY!!! They got to them on Christmas eve. No cards. No wrapping. Gift bags with tissue that I had in the ‘save for projects’ area of the basement. Wrapped Connor’s gifts, with help from Papa, didn’t make tags, used last year’s left over paper. Rolled up Morningstar Farms sausage links in Pillsbury crescent rolls. Twice. Once for us, and once when the lovely son came over, and rolled up the rest.

The tree, which is pink tinsel this year, to make dealing with the whole tree thing easy for the sick girl, had 4, count ‘em 4, ornaments. I couldn’t find the box, and I don’t have the umph to dig. I found 3 of the 4 on Christmas eve. Usually I am miss Tall Live Yummy-smelling Tree. Nope. Saw the pink tinsel in September, and snapped it up before they were going, anticipating exhaustion and no interest in searching for just the right tree in December. Thank goodness. Phew! And dudes, it was freakin' after Soltice before Connor finally drug the thing up from the basement and said we NEEDED to put it up. Yeah, suppose it was time!

And, ummmm… house decorations? Hahahahahahahahaha!!! Yeah, my orange, cranberry and chili pepper garland from last year is the extent of it. I ALWAYS get garland, and hang lights and baubles from the garland, and the live tree, and decorate the tree in the front yard with pine cone bird feeders and disco ball decorations and ribbon, and the mantle has candles and sparkly stuff, and branches, and it is beautiful!!! And, I’ve learned, totally not a necessity. I felt bad, I felt totally off my game, I felt as though I were disappointing my family. Nope. Turns out they just want ME! They want me relaxed, and healthy, and taking care of myself and not thinking so much about what I think they ‘need’. Huh! Who knew?

And thus I learned… I learned, again, that Christmas truly is in the being with people who matter in your life. This year, it was just the four of us; me, Jim the hubs, Jorma the son, Connor the grandson. And it was perfectly fine. It was relaxed. It was calm. There was no rushing anywhere. The bigger folk hung out, talked about books and what schools Jorma is going to apply to. We talked about work, we talked about how nice it was to spend a quiet day with each other, the little one playing new games and doing new puzzles, and the tech-free teen enjoying a rare evening of television.

This was perhaps the first year that I haven’t stressed, I haven’t rushed around needing one. more. thing! to make things just. right. I let it go, I let it unfold, and it was all just as good as any other. Maybe even better.

And just before Christmas, as I was putting my sweet boy to bed, he grabbed me in a fierce hug and said, "The best present is having you for a Gramma. I love you sooooo much." You know what? We're doing just fine. We don't need the trappings and the things. We have love. We have home and food and snuggly beddies with cozy-warm blankets. Truly all we need, all that matters.

I am so glad that I was reminded of these things. There are blessings in hardship, and I am grateful to be reminded of that as well. 

Bull-headed little monkey... wonder where he gets that...

Oy. The Boy was truly amazingly stubborn today. He was sooooo cute in the doing of it though. He finally spilled his little dudely guts to Papa once Papa got home. It was all cool, though not as minor as I would have hoped...

So, this afternoon, I'm sitting on the couch after working on Mom's book for a while. Connor, who has been hanging in the dining room with some Johnny Test on Netflix, comes slinking through the living room, in monkey print footie jammies and his silky blue cape, looking much like Rilo does when she has pooped in a carpeted closet. Seriously. We have two carpeted areas in the house; Connor's room and my closet. Those are the only places in the house she ever poops, and damn, can you see it in her little doggie slink. Anyway...
Here comes Connor all slinky-ass. He says,
"I need to go to my room." This is completely out of the ordinary, other than when he is trying to avoid getting caught at something, for instance, cutting all his shoelaces up with my kitchen scissors, or having taken my Blackberry apart and put the battery, cover and base phone unit in three different places. Argh...
Me: "What happened, sweetie? Why don't you show me?"
Him: "Nope. You won't like it."
Me: "Ummm... well, why don't you show me anyway. I'm not going to get mad at you, but I need to see what happened. If you spilled something, or broke something, it needs to get cleaned up."
Him: "Well, you won't like it. I don't feel like telling you."
Me: (Internally) goddammit kid, what the fuck? really?! what the hell did you do?
       (To him): "Okay. I'm going to go in the dining room, and see what it looks like happened."

There is nothing obvious in the dining room. My computer is not wet, it is not sticky. Connor suggest I look near the drawers, in which are the electronic gizmos like chargers and cords, and various and sundry other things... not all electronic, but... lots of stuff. I look under. Can't see anything that would for even a moment cause the cageyness that he's demonstrating. I think. I check in the drawers. I check Papa's guitar, which is leaned against the pass-through. All fine. I check the bookshelves for damage or missing items. Nada. Holy hell! What has gotten him sooooo knowing that I will not like whatever it is that a) he's willing to go take himself to his room to be alone and b) I can't fucking find whatever it is? Like, this should be something major, and I'm just not seeing ANYTHING!!

Okay. So, Jim calls, we go pick him up at the bus stop downtown. We go pick up pizza, and I tell Jim about this most confusing behavior, and that after many attempts, we have decided that Connor will hang out upstairs until he is completely ready to tell Gramma what happened that he is so worried about, and to trust Gramma to not lose her marbles IF he provides the information, and Gramma doesn't have to have any, ahem, nasty surprises. We've traveled the 'nasty surprise' road. Blech. He played in his room for like 2 hours, coming down for a hug and another couple minutes of talking every 15 or so. He would come down, get real snuggly, tell me he was ready, he thought, to talk to me about his worries. I had to close my eyes and my mouth, and hold him, and he put his fingers IN my ears, and told some truly imaginative stories.
"I was drinking icicles." (Yeah, no. I knew for a fact he hadn't opened any doors, and besides, he can't reach the icicles yet. They aren't that long. Not to mention, who the hell d'ya think showed the kid that icicles are yummy? That's right... that would be Gramma.)
"I was climbing the highest tree. With all the ice." See above re: sliding door.

*sigh*

But really, it was kind of awesome! He played really happily, and very creatively, and I hung on the couch at the bottom of the stairs, waiting, and reading, and kinda vegging, which is pretty much my MO this winter. Really, if fear of getting in trouble is all it takes for him to take himself upstairs to his room and not even want TV, we should do this more often. No. Wait. Kidding...

So, we get home, having told the tale to Papa, and I swear, about 5 minutes after coming in the door, and finding absolutely nothing of concern in the dining room, Papa looked at Connor and said,
"Was it IN the dining room? Or where you downstairs?"
Holy shit. Duh!!!
"I was in the basement... Sorry Papa."
"Let's go take a look. It's okay."
*sigh* "Oooookaaaaayyyy...."
Resignedly, Connor follows Papa downstairs.

Turns out, the little mongrel, for whatever reason, decided he felt like he should climb up on the washing machine, and had used the door to the dryer as a step. It apparently made a noise that freaked him out, and he hightailed it upstairs and slunk through the living room on his way up to his bedroom, at which time he ran into me.

So, no yelling ensued, it appears the dryer still functions, although I won't know for sure until I run a load tomorrow. Hopefully, we don't have to add 'dryer' to the list of things in need of replacement when we leave...
And most importantly, hopefully Connor will be a little more willing to tell us what's up, and also develop an awareness that he cannot slink past Gramma without her noticing. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, as it were.

Ooooooo!!! Turnips!!! I should get some turnips...
God I'm easily distracted these days... someday, my brain will figure out a way to ooze back into my skull. Like, when Kindergarten starts next fall? At least maybe it can ride around on my shoulder then, rather than having to be hunted down every. damn. time. I need it?

It never rains...

So, my daughter, my lovely wonderful smart funny thoughtful daughter, is imploding again.

The phone calls apparently started around 8:30 on Saturday evening. Usually this means she wants a ride, or me to bring her something. With the current state of things here, me being on the icky medication and tired tired tired all. the. time. and her being 20, I am not down. So, I ignored it, and turned off my ringer so I could go back to sleep. Apparently, the calls didn't stop.

Around 2am Jim comes up and says, Cassady is calling again. I ignored it. Was that bad? My response? No! It's fucking 2am!!! Not cool, not okay, she's not 15, she's 20. She's chosen to be a party girl despite everything, we have other things to think about, like, who's getting up with Connor (HER son!) in another 3 hours. She makes her choices, she has to deal with her consequences. And we parent her seriously major life choice every day while she continues to flail. Then, a bit later, 2am again, only 3 to our brains as the clocks had JUST gone back that hour, our son calls. He is with his sister. She is not in good shape. She is covered in blood and cuts and bruises, and is high as a kite, and has just seen a friend completely freak out on acid, smashing all of his material possessions and putting his arms through his bedroom window, resulting in life-threatening arterial slice to an arm. Jorma asks if we want him to take her to his house for the night, he's got her out at the 24 hour diner having coffee, and she can crash on his couch, but can we please come get her sometime on Sunday? Holy hell. Oh. My. God. Yes, please, and of course we can.

This was the culmination of a couple rough weeks for her... stress with a straight job, a boy doing the 'it's not you, it's me' thing, too much alcohol, checking herself into a mental health crisis center for a week, missing all the Halloween parties. Gotta make up for missing those... yeah. How'd that work out for ya'?

*sigh*

So, she got sent back to California, back to her grandma, aunt, uncle and cousins, where she usually does well, where people get her, get us, get her life history, and adore her in all her crass, loud, emotional, creative, brilliance. By the time she gets to her usual desire to split from there, we'll be gone from here, so if she wants to come back to the cesspool again, it's all on her. She'll be 21 in March. I'll be in Montana by mid-June. Her brother will likely be in Ann Arbor. No family to come back to. If these people she thinks are her friends are enough to pull her in again, well, nothing I can do to stop it, but for sure nothing I'm going to do to facilitate it. I'm quite sure she can and will eventually pull her head out of her ass and be just fine. Just hoping that can happen without prison or death coming first.