Brett starts his classes next month which will allegedly prepare him for his test in October. If and when he passes that big bad test, he'll be a real engineer with a stamp to smash down on all of the plans he draws up for folks. With the stamp comes a new title, bigger responsibilities, and a world of opportunities. I'm secretly hoping for us to be relocated, just for a short term deal. Though recently, Brett and I have seriously discussed moving to Virginia. We need some space. (And I want to rescue a few mistreated cows and let them live out their days on our farm, happily unburdened by the production demands of The Man.) (I also want bees and chickens.)
Here's a picture of Grace begging for cheese. It's her favorite thing.
On an unrelated note, Brett has been particularly busy replacing our gate posts and wiring those driveway lights and now he has taken everything out of the garage so that he can put it back in properly, with order and precision, once and for all. So all the garage crap has drifted into a shed, and my flowershop and the sunny room, and it's almost completely empty in the garage except for the wraparound work bench he suddenly decided to build after he got a glimpse of the potential in there. So instead of bringing things back in in an orderly fashion, the crap is staying put until the workbenches are done. He is making three of them with a bottom shelf and four drawers and while I roll my eyes at the time consuming and spontaneous undertakings of Brett Eisenhauer, he has almost finished one of the benches and I'll admit, it's a solid piece of furniture. The kid does good work.
Ellen has taken Margie's place at the realty as the full-time, go-to gal. I had the pleasure of "training" her for her first few days back in her old chair and it was fascinating. She'd be wonderfully chipper and kind on the phone with people and then when she hangs up she lets out an exasperated groan and calls that person hateful names. She likes the term "buttface." I think Ellen and Dad are happy to be a team again and I have been oozing out slowly, back to my life of aimless leisure.
Here's a picture I took of her hard at work.
Speaking of, last week I got all caught up on the Lux front and had Thursday and Friday completely to myself. I woke up delighted about it but quickly found that having no "urgent" objectives left me in a state of calm paralysis. I had no errands to run, so short of shopping for nothing in particular, I couldn't come up with a reason to go anywhere. No problem, I'll do home jobs. But the kitchen was clean and the laundry was done and it was too hot to cut the grass.
To shorten a long story, I'm now experiencing a kind of retirement crisis and have been scrounging for ways to make me feel productive, useful, or fulfilled and it's not going well. Knowing it is temporary does not help. I start my Fall wedding season in three weeks but I'm feeling frantic about that free time. I happen to be reading a book about aging and in it, an 85 year old woman describes her day in great detail to a doctor and it was my schedule exactly, down to the pitiful meals she eats by herself and the amount of effort that goes into watering her plants. Sounds silly, but that really made me panic. I'm 29 and I'm living my life the way an arthritis riddled cancer survivor does. I am quite literally wasting my youth.
But I cannot come up with something worth the trouble. I've found a few volunteer programs I'm really into but the time commitments they require won't work with the weddings.
What would old people do if they could be 29 again?
I did take myself out for a walk the day after I found out I may as well be a geriatric citizen. Brett and I got up early and ate breakfast out before he went off to work so it was nice to steal away with some Downtown time before everyone woke up and set about ruining my day with their presence.
In other more riveting news, I've quit drinking coffee on account of an increased number of panic attacks and general anxiety towards existing. I think it's helping. After I told Mom about my caffeine concerns she mentioned that Zhuddi, Aunt Melody, and Aunt Georgia all don't drink coffee for assorted reasons and that Dad has recently stopped because it has been giving him heartburn. I'd have liked for someone to point this out to me sooner. I come from a family caffeine-queasy people and have been guzzling the juice for the fun of it.
Point is, not having coffee in the mornings has resulted in an abundance of naps; the deep, sweaty kind. I am much less jittery which leads me to believe that the coffee was the only thing combating the dead weight of my existence. It's been a lot harder to get going. But maybe that's because I have nothing to do. Do you see the crisis I'm enduring? Big Bubba Brett did go buy me a bag of decaf (naturally processed because we read all about the toxic chemicals they use to take the caffeine out, awe geez) and he goes to the extra trouble of doing a second morning brew just for me and my weenie beans.
Morning story time with Pip n' Lu. (She hangs on my every word.)
This weekend we're celebrating Clint's birthday and I've found some plants to dig up and steal on another one of our Midnight Raids. I've decided I want to be a Vigilante Gardener that plants nice things on ugly patches of roads in town while everyone is sleeping. Who could be mad about that?
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