BFF

The piano tuner is here today. Who knew? A little WD-40 and a hair dryer, and viola! The whole action actually functions now. Oh, and we got more of the wax off because the tuner took the action further apart.

Of course, the poor instrument is still badly in need of physical therapy and other medical attention, but just hearing all 88 notes was a thrill this morning. At the very least, we'll easily get our investment back if we decide to sell.

Not much else going on...the other baby (the real one, the important one) is going to come on Saturday with professional assistance, if he doesn't come on his own before then. My mom has been heroically walking with me in the evenings/afternoons, but so far no go. As dear Mrs. H. says, "Mr. Gravity is our friend." We'll see what happens with that project over the next couple days. I'm carefully watched, like unto a bomb, but nothing interesting to report as yet. Ugh.

Poor small cat is suffering from the cold...the heat is just now coming on in the house (long story, don't ask) due to a miscommunication with maintenance, and she's just dying. Sixty degrees indoors just isn't cutting it for the little girl. Thankfully, she's got lots of people to heat leech on in the night.

Randomnimity

First of all, I've developed an awful habit which is rendering three hours of my day practically useless. I listen to the radio. Joe paid for the year's subscription and our AM (to put it plainly) is nonexistent, so I turn on the computer and stream Rush from noon to three. This is problematic because I get started listening to him and looking up or reading the articles and news items he references. And nothing happens except that I become informed on how wrecked our world is. No laundry, no packing, no chores. Too much trouble to move the computer every time I switch rooms.

Second, I honest to goodness have eaten junk food for most of today's broadcast. Banana and yogurt for breakfast, good, good....then it all goes to the dogs about 1315, when I found the half box of Milk Duds. And a coke. And some sun chips. Wow. Poor Baby is probably going to have a sugar attack, too, because I don't ever go through sweet junky stuff like that. Ick. Oh well. Maybe I'm more upset over this FEX than I thought. 12 days left...stupid Braggistan. Also, I ate cereal for dinner last night, because I wanted to. But it was healthy cereal, with lots of folic acid and fiber. (I'm a big fan of fiber these days. That and apples.)

Finally, the small cat likes to blog. She sits upon my tummy, ruining my spelling and kneading away at my neck and left shoulder. Life as a kitten (okay, an almost grown up kitten) must just be the schnizzle. So cozy, so relaxed. Except for having the pee-diddlies scared out of you by things like clocks, twist ties, and the completely inanimate carpet.

Wif Our Baby...

Okay, this is our baby, at least for the next two weeks. (Then the other one will be here and we'll have two high-maintenance items in the house.) After spending several known months in a NC garage, and several undocumented years being treated (quite obviously) as a piece of furniture and who knows what else, this Model R is now happily taking up the better part of our living room. Built around 1928 by the Premier Grand Piano Company of New York, she needs a LOT of work and care in order to be back in playing order. But hey, who are we to turn down a piano, right? Check out what $150 and some heavy lifting will get you:
Baby with her insides all out.

Cleaning the lid--GROSS buildup of pollen and dust on the entire box.

Vacuuming under the sound board, which is in miraculously good condition.

Wax inside the action of one of the bass octaves (yes, the whole octave worth).

Wax -0, Jennifer - 1. This is just what came from the box. I got another 1/2lb or so from inside the action, and can't reach the rest without dissasembling the hammer assembly (something I'm not about to try).

The action lying in state upon our dining room table.

OPSEC

Just thoughts today...

First, please don't be confused or feel left out if I fail to mention things about my life or schedule that you know are going on. I might have just forgotten, it might be a question of keeping myself secure by not mentioning (for example) when Mr. Bird might be away from the next. I might have just forgotten.

Also, many kudos to the famously-stuffy IOC for denying Chicago the 2016 Olympics. Hurrah! I mean, I'm sorry for the Chicagoans who have genuinely been excited by the prospect. I remember how it was the greatest thing to have the Olympics in my own back yard during 1996--good times, so many things to see! It was awesome, and I'm sorry for people between 7 and 18 who are now sad. But poo on the heads of the people that run Chicago, and go Europe for putting them back in their place. Such ego, such self-confidence and self-importance....wasted.

Epic fail. I love it.

Natum Videte!!

It's that time of year again.

Okay, fine. It's that time of year for 7.8 out of 12 months in my case, but still...I can't wait for Christmas! Part of the problem is that I'm sick to death of Halloween decorations in stores, and part of the problem is that a few places already have their red and green and fir-scented line out on the shelf. Most of the problem is that I'm always like this, with Christmas music playing whenever no one is around to hear it.

Does this ruin my enjoyment of the season? Don't be silly. In fact, I'm finally learning how to channel the Christmas Blues into something productive--I make Christmas gifts! This way, I feel like I'm actually getting something done and, at the same time, get to enjoy a Christmas -themed afternoon. Thus my table has been covered with red paper and x-acto blades for the past several days. There are little angels and fun latin phrases stuck all over the mushy ridges of my cerebral cortex...ahhhhhhh.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Waiting until the full moon

Well, let's hope not. The next two available full moons do not fall during optimal baby-having times. I'll wait for the new moon, though. That's acceptable.

So, had an interesting week. Spending 48 hours in the hospital does, as the wise man once said, actually destroy an entire week. I'm starting new this morning (slowly, obviously) at exactly the point I left off last Monday. Well, maybe a little ahead. Father came over and blessed the house yesterday, so that's progress at least.

Hospital staying is not something I recommend. For one thing, at least if you're me, it exacerbates whatever might or might not have been wrong with you in the first place. I went in to see if I had the flu (I didn't), and ended up staying for two days so that they could make sure I had neither suffered a heart attack or was going to throw an embolism. All this, basically, becaus my heart rate stayed above 135bpm long enough that they were able to justify an EKG, then ultrasounds of my legs and heart, then a CT scan, then chest x-rays. And so on. And so forth.

The poor doctor (whom I liked very much, btw, and whom I will hear no ill words against despite my belief that perhaps my trama was treatment-induced) wanted very badly to know what was wrong with me. He, in fact, spent a very long hour out of his busy day talking to me/Joe about my condition, what could be wrong, why he recommended certain treatments, etc. All of the poor doctors were frustrated that nothing clear cut could be said about me. Still, they gave me a list of meds, I declined one right off the bat and went home with the rest, and agreed to get a meter to check my blood pressure and pulse twice a day--as a compromise, for my loving family was greatly afeared for me.

So far, in the peace and tranquility of my own home, my heart and my blood pressure are very cooperative. No hypertension, no sinus tachycardia. Just me, my baby, and a nagging head cold (which two days in the hospital failed to fix, interestingly enough). Still, I have to go back today for them to test baby for stress, and I have to go back Wednesday for the new OB to have a look at me, and I go back for both every week from now until the party starts. In a way, I feel silly that I went in last week and put myself (and poor, poor Joseph!!) through all that, but oh well. I've got 7-day benchmarks, which ought to make the time go faster. That's just the best way to look at it.

Time Eaters

There are many, of course. House, chores, husband, bills, pets, appointments, phone calls, etc. However, number three seems to have sucked away every extra second between here and two weeks ago, without effort and certainly without me noticing. How? Well, besides the week in PA, how?

I don't know. Maybe I'm still getting as much done as I used to, but he creates "stuff" that needs to be done that I'm not yet ramped up to take care of yet. For example, I know that I'm still doing laundry on a regular basis, but there's twice as many dirty clothes around all the time. I know that I get up at a decent time, but breakfast doesn't get eaten until after nine. I know that the downstairs bathroom was clean when I left here, but...

All this is, I realize, shades of things to come. Soon there will be two people on his team, and still only one of me. There will be two laundry factories, two trash machines, two time eaters. Will I get only 1/3 of everything done? Sigh. My mom's solution to this problem is to Never, Ever, Ever create messes of her own. There are no mom-produced chores to address, only those the others in the house have come up with. It's a thought, you know? Her next step in the brilliant plan was to raise us up in the fear of the Lord [and Mother], so that we more or less cared for most of our own messes ourselves. We made beds a lot of the time, we took our own dishes from the table almost without exception, we took out trash in the early thursday mornings just because running out the driveway in pajamas and bare feet was fun.

But one cannot raise up an infant in the fear of oneself. He does not change his own diaper, he does not wash his own clothes. He definitely does not do his own dishes. And my husband has already been raised up, but he only fears the Lord, and forgets about most everything else. ("What dishes? Oh, that's where I put them! I was going to put them in the sink...") I'm trying to instill a fear of something into the two cats in the meantime, since they're the only living things around that I think I might have an effect on. So far, no good. They still start crawling around on me about 0545, ready for breakfast. The little one still follows me around he house crying until I sit down, then climbs up on my stomach to take a bath. The big one still throws litter all over creation every time he uses the box.

Sigh. Time to do the chores.