Catching Up

 

Changing Times

Friday night found Abby and me at the Inn at Lynden, a lovely little hotel in what I would describe as a bit of bleakness. I don't find Lynden particularly worth visiting, but Abby had the ACT at Lynden Christian High School on Saturday morning, so there we were. The ubiquitous faux windmills gave the place the feel of a poor echo of Leavenworth (the town, not the prison, although I wouldn't argue much with anyone describing it as feeling like some sort of stifling incarceration, given it is a city so famous for its piety). 

Abby has now taken the SAT and ACT. She refused the offer of prep courses, and instead did her own preparation. I hope she kills it on one of them.

I have been to the pumpkin patch three times this year. Abby couldn't go the first time. Last week, smoke week, kept the asthmatics in the family (namely Leiney and I) from being able to weather the corn maze. On Sunday, Abby led us bravely through. There was no acrimony, no dallying, no getting lost. It maybe took 20 minutes. 

My sense of direction is as likely to get me anywhere as riding a wooden horse. For reasons I can't explain, this annoyed Jenny every time we were in the maze. I never asked to lead us, never got us lost, and yet and still, she was annoyed. She believed it always fell upon her to get us out, frankly untrue, given Abby's uncanny ability to read a map that she had as early as 2nd grade. Coupled with the fact that the girls no longer fight over who is going to lead the way, it was simply a lovely morning, despite the hole that is left without Jenny's presence. 

Leiney spent the weekend with us, which was obviously a huge treat for both Abby and me. Jared had a friend in from out-of-town which required Leiney to vacate his apartment. On Sunday night she helped me put a new rug under the dining room table and placing anti-skid material under three other rugs I just purchased. 

Now that fall is here, I am really enjoying the new fence I had installed this summer. While I designed it, I hadn't expected the enclosure at the front of the house to create a patio. During the days of heat, smoke and dust, I had a nice place to read in relative quiet, surrounded by flowers. I replanted all the flowerpots whose flowers died last year due to my neglect. I have no green thumb, nor know anything about raising flowers, but it all worked out so nicely. The reason the patio exists is I needed to have three gates put in, one for the upper yard, which would not have a fence and which the dogs would have limited access; one for the lower yard, their area to run and play; and one that allowed entrance to the house. All and all, the fence has 5 openings. I would have gone for six, but that was probably overkill.  

Willow, whose favorite game is to run away from us and have us chase her up the road (for hours at a time if she had her druthers), still goes to the entry gate as soon as she is let out. Dreams die hard. But she loves the yard and the freedom, which is why we built the fence in the first place. Buddy, like Mickey in Rocky, tends to place himself in the middle of the yard and bark at Willow, as if he is ordering her to run, saying, "You're a bum Rock. You're a bum."  Willow gets wound up and bites or pretends to nip at his tail, winding up Buddy further and confirms by belief that dogs are the best thing in the world. 

Since the kids were little, I have been teasing them that I was going to buy a full-size truck. I would frequently point out F150s and tell them, someday, I am gonna have another truck. It was a frequent refrain, a rolling joke. When Jenny was sick, and after I found out about the affair, she started telling me I should buy that truck I always wanted. I waited. There were a lot of reasons I waited. The cost of used cars, COVID, the fact that I had almost no reason to drive. I didn't need a truck--there was that. I didn't want to have the fight that I was sure would occur when I went and bought a vehicle. So, I waited. And waited. Then, a week or two ago, I pulled the trigger. 

I didn't buy a new truck, the wait was ridiculous. 6-9 months, possibly a year. Supply-chain disruption (chips shortage). I didn't buy an F150. There are a few reasons I didn't, but mainly, the used car salesman at Bill Pierre Ford wasn't hungry enough to sell me a truck. The person I worked with wasn't just hungry, he was a professional. I ended up with a 2019 Toyota Tundra. It mostly sits, as was the plan. It doesn't guzzle gas, it mainlines it. But, I now can go to Goodwill, the dump, the nursery, as I wanted to do. Mostly, I did it because I thought I wanted to do so. Now, I am not so sure, but there it is. It is a lovely vehicle. Also, I was already hit. I have a grapefruit sized dent in a bumper from a hit and run at Costco. Bastards. Also, Leiney calls it Child Crusher 3000, clearly approving of the purchase. 

So much goes on, and I write so little. Abby still does not, even with prompting, talk about her mother. She is in therapy, but she bottles things up. Recently, I discovered a major parenting fail. I can think of several others, even as I type. The most salient, and the one I am desperately trying to fix, has to do with dinner.  Abby has, since we have lived here, had a habit of frequently making her dinner. I would cook on occasion, order in more frequently, and she would often cook for herself. It turns out she has been doing that as of late, more of necessity than choice. I didn't realize it, I simply took it for granted. It's odd, because I was the chief cook and bottle washer most every night during Jenny's illness and rfor most of the time that we were at the Ravenna home. Between Jenny seeking her second masters and her affair, she wasn't home much  (if ever) at night, and I told her I would assume parental cooking duties while she was in school--a chore we had shared up until that time. I realize Abby didn't communicate with me about her desire to have me cook, but that shouldn't have been needed. I am the parent, and even if it annoys her, I should have asked, offered, volunteered.  No matter, the problem is, as of now, rectified.

This afternoon I am taking Abby for her flu and booster shot and getting them for myself to boot. 

October 27, 2022 4:00 a.m.

We did get our immunizations on Monday.  It took forever, but we have the shots and I am grateful.

Yesterday  morning, and again today, I will be at the office working. I bargained with IAM 289 yesterday as part of coalition bargaining. Today, I am doing some impact bargaining over a bunch of changes for park rangers. It should be contentious.

It's 4 a.m. Buddy woke me to go outside, of course Willow had to go along, and of course someone had the temerity to get into their car to go to work unleashing the baritone barking of Willow alongside the clarinet squeak of a Buddy bark.  I woke just before Buddy went downstairs to ring the bell--I've turned into fucking Jeeves for dogs--to hear the chirp of some random detector going off over and again.  So, after I let the dogs out, I grabbed the ladder and started dismantling detectors. The chirp is gone.  Back to sleep.

6:51 a.m.

Activity on the job hunt. HR reached out from what was once my dream job, to schedule an interview. Priorities change when one loses a spouse. I enjoy the lesser duties I have had these last 3 years, with no direct reports, few long nights, and little stress relative to the other work. So, I don't know how I feel about the potential to be get another job. I can say I rejected a job recently which would have put me back in a law firm.  It would have doubled my salary and tripled my stress. Just not appetizing.

A couple weeks ago, I took my wedding ring off. It lasted a day, maybe two. I felt naked without it, wrong. My sorrow has modulated, but not abated. The overwhelming sense of loss, the overwhelming sense of betrayal, the terrible disruption in the lives of our children all weigh heavily. But the hurt is slowly healing, the scars visible as the scab recedes.