Just sayin’ – general observations

Upon living alone and mr-less…

Tires need filling? Seriously?

All light bulbs look the same when you’re standing in Home Depot. Better to bring one.

When you live alone and misplace something, there is nobody to blame but yourself. “He” did not move it. “He” did not use it and put it back in the wrong place. “You” are going crazy; that is the only explanation.

Traps that catch mice need to be either (a) emptied and re-baited or (b) thrown away if they’re disposable. Disposable ones are totally worth the money. So’s Terminix.

When the light goes out over the kitchen sink, you will have to be the one to get on the stepladder (which, coincidentally, is upstairs), snake your hand up through the pot rack that’s hanging below it, untwist the old light bulb and replace it. Then you will be the one who has to climb down the stepladder and turn on the light. Then you will be the one who has to call the electrician when it still doesn’t work.

When 18 people are coming for Thanksgiving, you are the one who has to clean the house. Of course, it there’s no mess to start with, you can just clean it without cleaning up first.

In summary, there’s lots that’s different. But it’s just different this year, not bad.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sinking suspicions…

Sometimes the things that seem like they’re the most minor end up getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

You know the little pulley-thing in the back of the faucet that opens or closes the drain stopper? The thing you pull when you’re putting in your contacts? One of the sinks in the upstairs bathroom has this issue where occasionally that thing you pull goes up, and up, and up… until it’s in your hand. And not in the back of the sink. I know that Mr. Ex fixed it from time to time over the last few years, and I think he even fixed it for me once after he moved out.

Well, last week-ish it came out again. I didn’t think much of it until my electric toothbrush stopped working. I know – those two things seem to be unrelated.

The thing is that the electric toothbrush came with two handles. Actually it’s youngest’s toothbrush, but she left it for me when she went to Israel, so I’ve been using it. Anyway, the handle that I have been using stopped working but I knew that there was a second one somewhere under the sink. So I opened the doors to look for it.

And that’s when I found the flood.

Apparently, the sink stopper thingie came out in two places. Above the sink and below. And it coming out below means that the little retaining nut also came out of the drain pipe – which caused the flood.

I get out the towel, and I google sink stopper thingie to get more info. No big deal, all the websites claim – just clean the stuff off and put it all back together. Okay, I think – I can do this.

To begin with, that stuff was NASTY. Cruddy, calcified, nasty. I clean, I get out the vinegar, I soak (the parts, not me). After a few hours my kitchen smells like I’ve made salad for 100, and the little ball thing is still stuck in the retaining nut, and nothing is going back on the drain pipe.

I go to Home Depot. The nice man in plumbing gets the ball out of the retaining nut (I believe ‘hitting it’ was involved – Google didn’t say anything about hitting it). He then points out that something seems broken in there. And there’s no replacement for just the nut. He tells me to check out a plumbing supplier. Excuse me?

I google plumbing supplies. I find one not too far and I pay them a visit. I show them the nut and they tell me…

You can’t just replace that. See that little part in there? That’s part of the drain pipe itself. You need to replace the drain pipe.

I need to replace it?

Oh, sure… they respond. You just pop the old one out, twist off the old parts, and put this one in. That’s all you have to do… No big deal.

I can do this myself? I ask.

At this point, I’m thinking…

Really Dr. Christiaan Barnard… all I have to do is take this donor heart and put it into the recipient’s? I can do this myself?

Really, Mr. Armstrong? All I have to do is follow you out of the lunar module? I can do this myself?

Yup they tell me. That’ll be $30.00. And they bid me goodbye with the final words… We’ll keep our fingers crossed. Good luck.

This was not comforting.

Okaaaaaaaay. I head home. I pull into Wal-Mart’s parking lot and open the directions. What do I need to do this? Plumber’s putty and pipe thread? What the hell are those things? I go into Wal-Mart to buy them, and notice that sitting right next to that stuff is a cheapie drain pipe with new fittings – a plastic version of the shiny (expensive) one I just bought.

With a retaining nut that looks like, yes, the one that broke. So I bought the cheapie drain pipe to get the retaining nut.

Which fit on my drain pipe.

No tools required. Now, we still have some leakage. I’m guessing that I need to adjust something or something needs to be tighter, or something like that. But it appears that I may be the proud owner of a shiny drain pipe that I don’t need (and can’t return).

Upside – no yanking out of the old stuff, no potential making things worse. Oh – and while at Wal-Mart I bought a new toilet seat to replace the cracked one in the other bathroom. Toilet seats, apparently, ARE universal, and replacing them is easy peasy (ha ha – no pun intended. Well, sort of).

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of all time. I love the food, the smells, the crowd, the preparation. I love having people I love around me and I love that you can eat really good food and you don’t have to rush off to synagogue.

I’ve made Thanksgiving for most of the last 30 years. For many of them it was the same crowd, give or take; the four of us, our ‘best-friend’ family, my mother, maybe my brother and his family. Some years we included some other friends, some years there was a boyfriend or so, some years somebody was out of town, like the year youngest was at her Disney internship and I got to make two Thanksgivings – the second of which was Thanksgiving-Shabbat when she was in town early in November.

Last year I didn’t do Thanksgiving. Mr. Ex had just moved out, and oldest wanted to do it anyway. It seemed like a good year to be a guest instead of a host. I missed it though – big time.

This year, it seemed that nobody in my son-in-law’s family was really excited about making the holiday. Oldest is making seder so two big holidays didn’t excite her, and everyone else has “their” holiday. Wow… my favorite holiday and it’s up for grabs. So, I grabbed it.

Yes, people. I’m having 20 guests for Thanksgiving and I’m only really related to two – my daughter and my brother.

And I couldn’t be more excited. First, I’m thrilled to be able to host these wonderful people who have welcomed me into their homes for the last year – holidays, birthdays, whatever. They consider me part of their family and I am honored and humbled to be included. I adore my son-in-law’s niece and nephew and have grown to be very fond of his cousins and their families.

No doubt, it will be different. My mother is gone, Mr. Ex won’t be there (wow – the possibility of non-vegetarian stuffing is almost intoxicating. Sausage-and-corn-bread here I come), and our former ‘best-friend’ family is no more, since I kind of lost them in the divorce. Yes, there’s no question that this will be different.

But I will still be with a whole bunch of people of whom I’m very fond – even love – and who have been good to me. And, in the end, we’ll all remember all the things for which we’re grateful.

As my late father would say, prost! (translation: cheers!)

Carry on

And I will.

Oldest established, permanent floating…

Image by Eda Cherry via Flickr

I got a couple extremely angry emails today from Mr. Ex. Seems he’s found out about my little journal here, and he was not a happy camper. And, of course, it’s weird that I’m writing this knowing that he may be reading it.

It was never my intent to embarrass or anger him, and I regret that. I spent a couple hours editing past posts to eliminate the, well, more unflattering references to him and his family. I mean, I know that stuff is out there now – and I can’t take back what people have read, but that was the best I could do.

But I’m in a tough spot here. I don’t really want to stop blogging. I enjoy it, and I enjoy the feedback I get. But I’m worried that this is going to change what I write, and that I’m going to be second-guessing myself too much. It also kind of creeps me out that he may be reading about my forays into dating-ville and stuff like that. Hmmm…not sure what to do.

I called a blog-reading girlfriend to discuss my dilemma. My options are to (a) bag the blog, (b) practice blog censure or (c) bag this blog and create a new blog. I joked that the blog would have to turn into a floating blog, much like Nathan Detroit’s crap game in Guys and Dolls.

Why it’s good old reliable Nathan!
Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Detroit!
If you’re looking for action, his firm is the spot.
Even when the heat is on, it’s never too hot.
Not for good old reliable Nathan!
Where it’s always just a short walk
To the oldest established, permanent floating,
Crap game in New York

Furniture shopping

A first: going into a furniture store alone

After a lovely happy hour with a friend yesterday, I decided to brave a new frontier – the furniture store. I only had one glass of wine so I figured it was safe.

Now, these can be pretty intimidating, even with a spouse. Not to mention overwhelming – the choices, the styles, the prices, the salespeople.

And, boy, there’s nothing that makes you feel quite so alone as the realization that the choice of couch color and style is completely up to you.

I circled the entire showroom twice, maybe three times. I pictured myself sitting on the couches, the dogs lying on the couches. I envisioned vacuuming behind them, moving them. I took down measurements. I bought nothing. Of course, I didn’t expect to really buy anything. This is a major purchase, and I refuse to make it standing on one foot. I felt no pressure. I took photos of stuff I liked, but that’s all I walked out with.

I looked at the only other customers in the store: a young couple with a new baby. I remember those days. It seems like it was both yesterday and a lifetime ago. They were excited to be making a purchase, heads together, whispering, no doubt, about how they could afford the purchase, would it survive their children (answer: no), would it fit in the living room… It’s almost hard to believe that they and I are in the same universe sometimes. If this was a movie, the scene would flip from the young couple to Mr. Ex and me 30 years ago. That scene would be faded-looking, clearly the 70’s (elephant bell bottoms, anyone?), but we would be just as hopeful, just as clearly children playing at being grownups. The first furniture purchase – the upgrade from hand-me-downs, college-era, potchkeyed-together stuff.

The following scenes, of course, would show the transitions – sitting on the couch as we held the first baby, cleaning up the spit-up, discovering the cushion that oldest had flipped over after spilling milk on it, waking Mr. Ex at 2:00 am after he would fall asleep watching TV. Arguing after he told me he wanted a divorce.

Wow. You can go through a lot while shopping for furniture. Today I’m looking at what I have to see if any of it will work – maybe I don’t have to buy something else after all.

I survived…

Famous Jewish joke…

Question: How do you explain Jewish holidays?

Answer: They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.

So, does one have a divorce party? Marriage tried to kill me (not really, but I’m going with a metaphor here, people), I survived, let’s eat.

Do you give favors? Play pin-the-tail (or substitute some part of a man’s anatomy) on-the-ex? Eat cupcakes? Open presents?

Do you make it more meaningful? Institute some kind of ritual where your guests make wishes for you? That sounds kind of, um, mushy.

I dunno. At one time I felt like having one, but now I’m not so sure. It feels kind of anti-climatic.

I like the eating part, though.

Snobbery, and a trip to the grocery store

Snobbery

I really never considered myself a snob. Well, much.

Hard reality: yesterday I had coffee with a really nice, highly intelligent man (we met on Brainiacdating.com – seriously). I was enjoying the conversation, even though I suspected that there is no possibility of more than coffee. He has an adult son with autism, and is pretty upfront about being committed to taking care of him.

All was well. Until he mentioned the new Pergo throughout the double-wide.

Done.

The grocery store - I’m taking myself on a field trip to a grocery store later today. I realize that to you, the general, food-eating public, this is not momentous. People go to grocery stores all the time. Even single people. Even newly-divorced, “I don’t know how to cook for one after cooking for four” people.

I have gone grocery shopping since Mr. Ex moved out. But it’s been more of the “run in, buy yogurt, run out” shopping, unless I was entertaining (which, frankly, I didn’t do much in the last year). What have I been eating? For the most part, particularly since youngest moved out, it’s been quickie meals; roast chicken; take out; eat at oldest’s; happy hour (okay, quite a few of THOSE). Eggs. Bagels. You get my drift, I’m sure.

I realized this week that taking care of myself must include indulging in something that I’ve always enjoyed, which is cooking and baking. The whole onion roll adventure was part of that, and last week’s beef bourguignon and chicken enchilada soup day was another. So, today, I’m taking myself to a NEW grocery store (well, new to me), Perusing without a list. Gasp – buying on impulse. Because I want it.

The problem, of course, is that if I cook it’s too much for one. Perhaps having ComEd come out last week to take away my old full-size freezer was not the best timing. But I may have a solution to that. I found out yesterday that our school secretary and his live-in girlfriend are a little low on cash (how shocking – a colleague of mine not making enough money to live . . . she says with a touch of irony). He already works a second job, but I guess things are still tight. I’m guessing that they may be willing to help me out with the leftovers . . .

Anger management: update

I responded to Mr. Lives-in-the-city-and-doesn’t-drive that I didn’t see how my saying that I don’t drive into the city during the week judgmental, and wished him well in his search. That’s pretty much online-dating-speak for ‘get lost.’

He sent me an email saying, “Whatever. You have my email address. The ball’s in your court.”

How true. And that’s where it’s staying.

Anger management

So I’ve been trading emails with someone from JDate. I’m not extending my paid membership beyond the end of this month, so it’s a last ditch effort.

He’s nice on email, seems interesting, educated… the good stuff.

Unfortunately he lives 30 miles away – about 5 blocks from my late mother’s condo. I know that drive well. Very well.

And the bad news is he doesn’t drive.

So… if I’m going to see him, it means that I’m driving into the city to do it.

I sent him an email explaining that the hour drive is too much for me to do during the week. I work until 4 or 5, and to then get in the car and drive an hour is too much. And, of course, there are the dogs… I wasn’t nasty, just honest. I also said that we could see how the weekend would work out.

I got a pretty strongly worded response that he was angry by my judgmental & accusatory email. Seriously. I’m not sure how my response was judgmental and accusatory.

Oh well.