Saturday, August 13, 2016

In which Laverne looms next to the looming clay cat our neighbor got for us

For Ask A Manager Weekend Free For All Readers - this is the Looming Kitty I refer to in my comment.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

In which Primo agrees to get rid of the nasty shaving cream he brought from his dad's bathroom but thinks that maybe poor homeless men might want it to which I say Just because you are homeless does not mean you have bad taste

I convinced Primo to get rid of the rest of the Barbasol, which he brought back from Florida, I guess in the carload of stuff that also included a reel to reel tape player and his parents' ashes, both of which are still in our house. That was Thanksgiving, this is the end of April. I will leave the (sad) math to you.

However, last weekend, he did throw out the 15" stack of newspapers dating back to 2011 that had been stacked in the back of his office, so I will take it. Little by little. There is only so much a person can do when a person is in a partnership and not a dictatorship.

(Speaking of dictatorships - I do not like to venture into politics here because I do not want to talk about politics with anyone, even people I agree with, but Donald Trump scares me. I have never worried for my country before like this. I hope my worry will be for naught.)

Primo agreed to get rid of the Barbasol. It went like this:

Primo: I guess I should get rid of this shaving cream, huh?

Me: Please do.

Primo: It seems wasteful.

Me: It is so nasty. It makes me gag.

Primo: There is still a can and a half!

Me: So?

Primo: Maybe we can give it to charity? Not the half can, of course.

Me: No. I don't think charity accepts half-used personal grooming items.

Primo: But the full can.

Me: I really don't think anyone wants to use that stuff! It's nasty!

But - there it is - on the kitchen counter, waiting to be put in the bin downstairs where we accumulate the stuff for Goodwill and for the homeless shelter.

So I took a photo and uploaded it here and as I was doing so, I saw this other photo of shaving cream that I took around Thanksgiving. Did I post about that here? Or was it just on facebook?

The conversation about the FOUR CANS OF SHAVING CREAM living on the bathroom counter went something like this. I don't remember the details, but I have known Primo long enough to know how it would go.

Me: Do we need to have all four cans on the counter? Do we need to have any? Could we aim for a reduction in the number?

Primo: I don't want to waste any!

Me: Then don't.

Primo: But when I am in a hurry, I don't want to take the time to get the last little bit out of the ones that are almost empty.

Me: Could they at least live in the cupboard?

Primo: There's room for them here.

Me: Not the point.

In which hell freezes over, which is more appropriate than you know

It is April IRL.

And it is cold.

Which is so unfair. Because in the northern hemisphere, we should not have to be cold in April.

We had a beautiful day on Monday. We actually OPENED THE WINDOWS.

If you live up north, you know what a big deal an open window is.

If you are in the south, you are thinking, "What? You mean there are times when you would not be able to open a window?"

(I am not talking to the people who use their AC all the time. I am talking to people like me who like open windows and attic fans rather than AC. I have almost never used my AC, even when I was in the south. I used it only when my mom came to visit.)

It is cold. We still have flannel sheets on our bed. We have a space heater in our room. It is a Thursday morning - it is April 28 - and I am working at home, sitting in the kitchen, with the heat cranked up to 70 and wearing the fluffy pink robe my sister got me for Christmas a few years ago.

Primo is home, of course. He is no longer traveling to Florida thank goodness. I would like him to be At Work, but I remind myself that if I had to make the tradeoff between his having a job and Sly and Doris still being alive (and not magically converting into loving, nice people), his not having a job is a reasonable sacrifice to make.

Anyhow. He is home. I think the cat is out of the bag now that Primo is ultra liberal. That is important information for this story.

Primo: It's cold!

Me: I know!

Primo: It's not fair!

Me: I know.

Primo: I want to do some chores outside but it's too cold! They are not going to be able to take photos outside at the wedding on Sunday!

Me: Nope.

Primo: I hope they didn't think that was actually a possibility when they chose May 1 as a wedding date.

Me: I hope so too.

Primo: I want global warming!



Me: Who are you and what have you done with my ultra liberal husband?

Primo: I just think that if it's happening that we should get some of the benefits here.

Me [type type type]

Primo: Hey! You can't write about that!

Me: I'm putting it in my blog, not on facebook.

Primo: Oh, OK. I can't have that information out in public.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

In which Primo's ex-wife, who has been in the ground for over two years, also comes back from the dead to haunt us, but fortunately for us, our bonus daughters and their husbands are the total opposite of Ted, that is, they are NICE

Yes. You read that right. Primo's ex - I have forgotten what I named her - has become an issue again.

You would think that once people are dead, they could not make your life more complicated but you would be wrong. Sly and Doris continue to touch us in so many ways and now Primo's ex is doing the same thing.

The difference is that with Primo's ex, his stepdaughters are dealing with it and making it as easy as possible for Primo.

Primo's two stepdaughters are wonderful, lovely young women. Any time Primo says he might have been better off had he never met his ex, I remind him that he would not have his stepdaughters, their husbands, and their children in his life if that were the case.

They are all worth the drama he went through with his ex, who, by all accounts, was a nice person but she and Primo were just not a good fit. They did not date long enough before they married to discover that, which is why even though Primo told me after one month that he was in love with me and wanted to spend his life with me (I was all, "IT'S BEEN A MONTH!" and he said, "Here are some diamond earrings. See?"), we dated for three and a half years before we married.

(Part of that was because it took so long for him to get his divorce but it was mostly because he was gun shy.)


His ex's mother died last summer, as you will have read. Primo went to her funeral two days after Sly's funeral. I am absolutely positive there were more people mourning the ex MIL's passing than mourned Sly's, as the ex MIL was, according to Primo, a lovely lovely lady. He visited her every time he went to California and sent her a mother's day card every year.

But ex MIL, just like ex, died without a will.

When you don't leave a will, you leave trouble for your family.

IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A WILL, MAKE ONE TODAY.  Go ahead. I'll wait. If you must, download a template and complete it and take it with you next door to have your neighbors witness your signature, then make a copy for the people who need to know and give it to them. Trust me, this is better than nothing. DO IT.

(And if you have minor children and do not have a will already where you designate guardians for your children, may God have mercy on your soul.)

Ex's mom died without a will. Years ago - this would have been more than 15 years ago, because it's been that long since Primo and his ex split, Primo and his ex borrowed some money from ex MIL or lent her some money or whatever.

That issue has somehow come up in the sale of ex MIL's house (which is right by the new Apple campus in San Jose, so Primo's stepdaughters are going to have enough money to pay for their kids' college, which I think is fabulous) and Primo has to sign something assuring people that he does not have a claim on ex MIL's estate.

Which of course he does not. Why would he?

Here is how fabulous his stepdaughters/my bonus daughters are :

They are paying to send a notary TO OUR HOUSE to DELIVER THE PAPERS TO PRIMO for him to sign and have notarized AT OUR HOUSE.

That is, they are going out of their way to make it very very easy for Primo to do this.

THEY ARE THE MOST WONDERFUL PEOPLE IN THE WORLD. They are thoughtful and considerate and are not thinking of Primo as someone who should jump just because they say so.

That is, if Ted is white, they are black. If Ted is matter, they are anti-matter. If Ted is A, they are Not A. They are the total opposite of Ted. They. Are. Nice.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

In which more readers discover my IRL identity but this time, nobody tries to out me to people who could cause me trouble

Remember how I had to shut the blog down last summer? It was because someone had figured out who I was and thought it would be a great idea to post something on Doris' online funeral announcement.

You know - the announcement that Sly, Ted, and the rest of the family would be reading?

Yes. This jerk wrote something about his/her condolences and said something about having learned about Doris on the blog Diary of a Gold Digger.


I hope you have a rash on your face and an itch everywhere else that won't go away, jerk who posted.

I had to shut the blog down while Primo tried to figure out how to get the comment removed from the obituary before Sly saw it and started asking questions.

Sly never did see it, but my lovely sister in law, Stephanie, whom I LOVE and would not hurt for anything, did see it and asked about it. I had to lie. I had to lie to someone I love and whose respect I want. Not because there is anything written here that would hurt Stephanie because there is nothing ugly to say about Stephanie, but because I could not have Sly find this blog and do something nasty to Primo in retaliation, like disinherit him or make him wipe his ass.

Oh. Wait.

The only reason I have ever kept my identity a secret on this blog is because of the possible repercussions for Primo from Sly and Doris. After all, with my other blog, where I didn't even talk about them, they told Primo not to marry me and threatened to boycott our wedding, which, to this day, I wish they had done. I did not need mean drunk people at my wedding.

Now they are dead. Now I don't care. No, I have not identified myself here by name, but my friends know about this blog. My mom knows it exists but she does not read it. I would not be comfortable with her reading it because there are some things on here a mom probably does not want to know. However, there is nothing ugly about my mom on this blog because there is nothing ugly to say about my mother. My mother is a lovely person and I am lucky to have her.

Now. To the point. I have discovered - and this is cracking me up - that there are several of you who have figured out my identity. I am proud to have such smart readers. :) And I am laughing because this new discovery reinforces an idea I have held for a long time - that there is almost no stronger force than the human desire To Know. (Witness Adam and Eve.)

You guys are fabulous!

I told Primo about it.

Me: These readers have figured out who I am and who you are. One of them wrote that she hates Ted. That means I have conveyed him accurately. (She also said you are a hottie, which you are.)

Primo: Wow.

Me: Do you care if Ted would find this blog? We didn't want your mom and dad finding it, but do you care if Ted finds it?

Primo: I don't need anything from him.

Me: Nope.

Primo: He needs me. Although he doesn't seem to get that.

Me: Nope.

Primo: I don't care if he knows what you think about him. I don't want anything to do with him.

And then we fell silent, dreaming of a day when we would not be wondering what jerkiness Ted was planning next and when Ted would be completely out of our lives.

Monday, August 8, 2016

In which Primo's aunt may be dying (she is older than Sly and has been ill for a long time) and he is all stressed about whether he will have to go to a funeral

Primo: Oh no. My aunt J is not doing well. My cousin just sent me an email.

Me: I'm sorry, sweetie.

Primo: Now I'm going to have to go to another funeral.

Me: Why do you say that?

Primo: Because! I have to!

Me: I have cousins who live in or by the town where we had my dad's funeral who did not come. There is not one single person in my family who holds any anger against them.

Primo: Why didn't they come?

Me: People have jobs! They have kids! They can't always get away.

Primo: Jobs on a Saturday?

Me: Yes, some of them. But the funeral was not on a weekend.

Primo: Why not?

Me: Because when you have a funeral in a church, you can't have it on Sunday. And maybe not on Saturday, depending on if there are any weddings or other events and then of course Mass is at 4:00 on Saturday.

Primo: Oh.

Me: Anyhow. My family did not keep score of who came and who didn't. It doesn't matter. What matters is how someone acts when the person is alive.

Primo: I guess Ted could go.

Me: It is just a train ride for him, isn't it? You would have to buy a plane ticket and rent a car and stay at a hotel. * He could go as the Representative of the Family.

Primo: He didn't even go to Uncle Bob's funeral (aunt J's husband).

Me: Wait! I thought he was all Mr "Family is EVERYTHING!"

Primo: I know.

Me: What a jerk.

Primo: Now I'm cranky. Not at you. But cranky. This is going to get me all pulled into the family drama again. I'm glad I didn't answer Ted's last email! I'm glad I just sent him the spreadsheet with the check.

Me: He is a jerk.

Primo: I don't know if Ted thinks I can be bullied or if I am just stupid.

Me: He thinks he is the smartest one around. And if he thinks you can be bullied, he does not know you at all. You grew up with your dad. Ted did not. He has no idea how much bullying you can deal with. You are immune after living with your dad.

Primo: Yep.

* When my dad died, friends of his flew in from all around the country. He and my mom are from a very small town - no stoplights - and hotels are slim pickings. Our relatives insisted on housing the out of town guests and on picking them up and returning them to the airport, which is an hour from town. One couple showed up - they had flown - with a honeybaked ham that they had carried in their laps the entire flight. My dad had amazing friends.