Seriously, Folks
17/02/19 06:53
I'll be running out to Trader Joe's soon. Nancy is making lentil soup for dinner and she need a few ingredients. I have red lentils, Pom tomatoes, and carrots on my list just to name a few. It's one of my favorite recipe's that Nancy makes and it's a favorite to be sure in the wintertime. Whether or not Evan is going to have it remains to be seen. I like to get to the store early before the crowds arrive. There isn't much traffic on Sunday mornings so I should be good to go. I might even get on the road before Nancy and Evan are out of bed.
I don't know if it's global warming or what but I think I'm starting to get spring fever. The sun is higher in the sky, the days are longer and longer, the light is streaming into our house at angles not seen in months, and everything is just brighter and infinitely more cheerful than it was just two weeks ago. It has been a relatively snowless winter and prospects for making up for those shortfalls seem to be less and less as Spring inches closer and closer on the calendar. We are four weeks away from the start of Spring so I guess we'll see.
I was telling Nancy that we should get her mom out of the house sometime soon. We've been going over to visit her for the better part of a year or two and we've not once taken her out for an outing of any kind. Not to dinner, not to lunch, not for a ride to see Christmas lights during the holiday season, not even to her favorite restaurant. The visitation itself takes a few hours between the travel time and the time we sit wth her in her apartment so that often seems to suffice. More often than not we are there around dinnertime so it isn't as though we don't have the opportunity. It's food for thought for sure.
She is happy to have the visit and Nancy is happy to be able to spend time, however briefly, with her mom. Maybe it's one of those time honored mother daughter things that men know to be true but can't fully appreciate or understand. I'm just along for the ride and I fall into the "know to be true" category but I think I get it.
I'm tasked on occasion while there with chores that are seemingly nothing more than Rorschach tests designed for hapless son-in-laws. Putting square pegs in square holes is a particular talent of mine so I generally rise to the occasion. Whether it be changing the settings on her timer so that her light in the living room comes on at the dusk and turns off in three hours time or maybe even assembling a wooden shoe rack for her that she purchased on the Home Shopping Network, I'm there with bells on. Some of the more cringeworthy requests, like putting batteries in flashlights, really make me wonder. I'm dutiful to a fault so don't ask questions.
Nancy may think that it is asking enough of me that I take the time out of my weekend to go visit her mom with her when I might prefer to be doing something else. I sometimes wonder if Nancy would go at all if I didn't join her but that is a story for another day. Of course she would is the right answer but in reality we'll never know. As long as I'm around to push into service, we'll be making the trip together. Adding more time to the mix to take her out to dinner or other might well be tantamount to pushing the envelope. Something to think about nonetheless.
While Evan's apartment deal is far from clinched, we're allowing ourselves the luxury of thinking that it is all going to work out for the better. He asked his mother the other day if she thought he was being too loud while laughing uproariously late into the night at one or more of his Netflix comedies. It was in anticipation of moving in to his own place with an eye towards keeping the peace by being a good neighbor.
I thought to myself that if he can't have a good laugh in his new place that maybe this place isn't the right place for him if you get my drift. Perhaps it's better to err on the side of being too quiet than the opposite and running the risk of incurring the ire of your closest neighbors. They need to be knocking at his door not with a scowl and a cudgel but with a smile and an ask for a cup of sugar, an invitation to dinner, or perhaps just to offer or request assistance.
What if this place doesn't work out for him? What then? Nancy and I looked around a home goods type store yesterday and it was fun to think about the things Evan might need when moving in to his new apartment. He'll need everything from an egg timer to shower curtains and this store had it all. The furniture in the store was moderately priced and it was only moderately comfortable. If you have to climb out of a couch, it probably isn't for you.
Would he like this particular couch? Maybe. Maybe not. He's talked about having a sectional couch, plenty of plates in the event he does any entertaining at all, and maybe a few folding chairs to accommodate unanticipated guests. That's not the Evan we know so it was sadly amusing to hear him say those words. It may be an aspirational Evan that we have yet to meet but hope, as they say, springs eternal.
Oh, and a white or light colored couch probably won't do. But these have to be his choices, not our choices. Colors, sizes, styles, fabrics, proportions, these are all his decisions to make. I think he relishes the prospect of having to pour over the various and sundry considerations so I guess we'll see. I also think we all need to take a deep breath until we have another chance to step into the unit to better assess what might fit where and we can go from there.
There is also the risk, I suppose, that this apartment thing is going to be a cluster fuck. He won't manage things well and it will spiral out of control. His dirty dishes will pile up, his clothes will go unwashed, his personal hygiene will take a turn for the worse, his delusions will go unchecked, his dietary needs will go unmet, his reclusiveness will become dire, and he will descend into a dark place where only bad things happen. God help us. God help our son.
I don't know if it's global warming or what but I think I'm starting to get spring fever. The sun is higher in the sky, the days are longer and longer, the light is streaming into our house at angles not seen in months, and everything is just brighter and infinitely more cheerful than it was just two weeks ago. It has been a relatively snowless winter and prospects for making up for those shortfalls seem to be less and less as Spring inches closer and closer on the calendar. We are four weeks away from the start of Spring so I guess we'll see.
I was telling Nancy that we should get her mom out of the house sometime soon. We've been going over to visit her for the better part of a year or two and we've not once taken her out for an outing of any kind. Not to dinner, not to lunch, not for a ride to see Christmas lights during the holiday season, not even to her favorite restaurant. The visitation itself takes a few hours between the travel time and the time we sit wth her in her apartment so that often seems to suffice. More often than not we are there around dinnertime so it isn't as though we don't have the opportunity. It's food for thought for sure.
She is happy to have the visit and Nancy is happy to be able to spend time, however briefly, with her mom. Maybe it's one of those time honored mother daughter things that men know to be true but can't fully appreciate or understand. I'm just along for the ride and I fall into the "know to be true" category but I think I get it.
I'm tasked on occasion while there with chores that are seemingly nothing more than Rorschach tests designed for hapless son-in-laws. Putting square pegs in square holes is a particular talent of mine so I generally rise to the occasion. Whether it be changing the settings on her timer so that her light in the living room comes on at the dusk and turns off in three hours time or maybe even assembling a wooden shoe rack for her that she purchased on the Home Shopping Network, I'm there with bells on. Some of the more cringeworthy requests, like putting batteries in flashlights, really make me wonder. I'm dutiful to a fault so don't ask questions.
Nancy may think that it is asking enough of me that I take the time out of my weekend to go visit her mom with her when I might prefer to be doing something else. I sometimes wonder if Nancy would go at all if I didn't join her but that is a story for another day. Of course she would is the right answer but in reality we'll never know. As long as I'm around to push into service, we'll be making the trip together. Adding more time to the mix to take her out to dinner or other might well be tantamount to pushing the envelope. Something to think about nonetheless.
While Evan's apartment deal is far from clinched, we're allowing ourselves the luxury of thinking that it is all going to work out for the better. He asked his mother the other day if she thought he was being too loud while laughing uproariously late into the night at one or more of his Netflix comedies. It was in anticipation of moving in to his own place with an eye towards keeping the peace by being a good neighbor.
I thought to myself that if he can't have a good laugh in his new place that maybe this place isn't the right place for him if you get my drift. Perhaps it's better to err on the side of being too quiet than the opposite and running the risk of incurring the ire of your closest neighbors. They need to be knocking at his door not with a scowl and a cudgel but with a smile and an ask for a cup of sugar, an invitation to dinner, or perhaps just to offer or request assistance.
What if this place doesn't work out for him? What then? Nancy and I looked around a home goods type store yesterday and it was fun to think about the things Evan might need when moving in to his new apartment. He'll need everything from an egg timer to shower curtains and this store had it all. The furniture in the store was moderately priced and it was only moderately comfortable. If you have to climb out of a couch, it probably isn't for you.
Would he like this particular couch? Maybe. Maybe not. He's talked about having a sectional couch, plenty of plates in the event he does any entertaining at all, and maybe a few folding chairs to accommodate unanticipated guests. That's not the Evan we know so it was sadly amusing to hear him say those words. It may be an aspirational Evan that we have yet to meet but hope, as they say, springs eternal.
Oh, and a white or light colored couch probably won't do. But these have to be his choices, not our choices. Colors, sizes, styles, fabrics, proportions, these are all his decisions to make. I think he relishes the prospect of having to pour over the various and sundry considerations so I guess we'll see. I also think we all need to take a deep breath until we have another chance to step into the unit to better assess what might fit where and we can go from there.
There is also the risk, I suppose, that this apartment thing is going to be a cluster fuck. He won't manage things well and it will spiral out of control. His dirty dishes will pile up, his clothes will go unwashed, his personal hygiene will take a turn for the worse, his delusions will go unchecked, his dietary needs will go unmet, his reclusiveness will become dire, and he will descend into a dark place where only bad things happen. God help us. God help our son.