Kind of a Stupid Day

1. Morning: Max slept here last night, but Ginna did not – as she had to pick Kris up at the airport. And G has sessions all day, and Chaz is sick. So I need to be the one who is there when Frazz steps out of sleepyland and hits the ground running. I get up before he does. Do the treadmill, stopping to check on him every little while. G comes home from his six-in-the-morning bike ride with Cam (we did 237.4 miles this morning!!) just about the time I finish up the treadmill and remember that I have to let the horses out. G’s hair stands on end when I ask him to keep an eye on poopsy because he needs to be in the studio, but I have to leave anyway. I hurry. I notice that Jedda has a deep crack in her hoof and for the eighth time in the last week and a half swear that I will remember to call Westin, the Ferrier, the second I get home.

2. I get home and G has made eggs for Frazz and an omelet (which is eggs on steroids) for me (see? I wasn’t gone that long). Frazz is allowed to watch PBS while I take a shower.

3. G bought something on line over breakfast. I make him use PayPal because I figure that one company knowing your credit card info is better than twenty companies knowing your credit card information, though I may be mistaken about that. He does not want to do it because all the pertinent emails will then come to me instead of to him, and what if I’m gone and he can’t get them and can’t download the software in time. But one account is better than two accounts, especially seeing as they will not let two accounts use the same bank numbers so he is forced to take the chance.

4. I assure him that I will not be gone, that the emails will come and I will forward them right away—and then end up sitting at the computer for forty five minutes waiting for ANYTHING on the transaction to come through. Finally, I go to the gmail server to see if the transaction posts have gotten caught in the filter, only to find that my server has NO MESSAGES IN THE IN BOX. I ALWAYS leave my messages on the server. But suddenly, there is NOTHING. And then I remember a conversation I had with Cam and L in which he extolled the virtues of setting up an IMAP account so that you can delete messages off your server using your smart phone. Which we told him was stupid and we did not want to do.

5. So I do an experiment: I delete something off my iPhone – and watch, to my horror, as the message DISAPPEARS from my gmail list. I HAVE DELETED EVERYTHING ON MY PHONE. Which means off my server. Before I ever had a chance to download on to me computers. Which is where I read my mail.

6.That was the first awkward Thing.

7. Then I get a call from a beloved friend who has never yet been a presence on Facebook but is being forced into trying it by friends and family (yes, I know – that’s how I got on the dang thing) and now needs me to really convert him. Over the phone. Did you know that, when you log on to somebody’s Facebook account while they are on it, you end up kicking them off? Yes. It’s true. And did you know that explaining how Facebook works (who are all these people who have written to me? Why are they telling me about baby nap times and computer games and why they hate sour cream? Did I ask them questions about these things? Am I obligated to ANSWER THEM? And WHO ARE some of these people, anyway?) and what the rules are, and how you get back on your own page when you’ve mistakenly clicked on somebody else – and how to tell that it IS, in fact, your page – over the phone is really, really hard to do?

8. Some people get cranky when they are seriously confused.

9. You must have mercy on the noviates and be perky and supportive during this stage so that they don’t give up, since you were the person who forced them into an account in the first place.

10. And that was the second awkward Thing.

11. Gin, in planning this very complex visit (1st night with the in-laws because the guest bedroom here was filled up with Dad who was already visiting, 2nd through 5th night with me, 6 and 7th night with Kath and Ken—said in-laws: whatever-th nights in Lava Hot Springs on that side’s family reunion—which brings us up to date but does not begin to touch the embedded trip to New Mexico while Frazz stays here, split between fams and the other two or three trips to the airport the week after) (still with me?), built in some time for the taking of the Annual Family Picture, which would be going in my Christmas Cards, if only I still sent them out.

12. Which happened today. The picture. And I needed to wash all my summer T-shirts, for one thing because I’d run out, for another because the navy blue v-neck I wanted to wear was in the hamper. I wash these T-shirts carefully. Apart from everything else. In cold water. With the barest heat in drying. Nobody touches them but me. Which is why, when I took the load of light, care-free summer colors out of the washer and found all of them splattered with dark blue runny stars, I screamed.

13. And that was the third Thing.

13.25 I fished the dead ink pen out of the washer trap and mopped up the remaining clouds of diluted ink. I did not say bad words, although I did think them. I did not hit anyone, although in my heart I burned an effigy. Nearly my entire wardrobe (assuming you can actually call what I wear something that grand) was now dalmatianed. And the load of whites, including our very white and serious underwear? Yeah. That was, too.

13.5 I still had to make a deposit, and I had to buy wasp spray (the little beggars build nests in the pasture pipe-fence panels) and – did I tell you we got a new old car? – I had to buy car floor mats. Who puts light wheat colored carpet in cars? In SUVs???? There should be nothing but heavy duty hose-offable dark tweed carpet in these things. Do people in suits sit around a table and discuss this stuff seriously? “Tell me, Robert? What shall we put in this rowdy looking fake utility vehicle we’re sending out into the real world? The Champaign pile or the Buff Plush?”

14. I told Frazz to go get dressed. It was not until he pointed out the fact that I realized he already WAS dressed. Wha—??? And he’d done it without ANYBODY TELLING HIM.

15. So we drove away. He’s good company. We talked about some pretty complex ideas, and he contributed wonderful perspectives. I taught him about what “half” means, and we ended up running around Home Depot finding things you could make into halves without wrecking them. Like packs of small batteries. And bags of M&Ms. Frazz decided we’d do the self-check line; he can find every code on every thing and does a mean scrawl on those pin-pads. And we went to the credit union where you can, if you are tall enough, wave at yourself and see it on TV.

16. At Walmart we looked for the afore mentioned car mats. And ended up with a few other practical things. As I was handing the Frazz stuff to run across the self-check beeper plate, one of my last remaining perfect summer T-shirts caught on the jagged edge of the plastic bumper of the shopping cart and tore.

17. Another THING.

18. The Walmart people gave me a ten dollar gift card. To stop the screaming, I think. And I made them promise to take the cart out back and shoot it before it could maul anybody else.

19. We were hot. We were tired. We were getting CROSS. And I remembered I still had horses to let out. And I still had to buy Aunt Chaz a bottle of diet-something to help her get well. I talked to G on the phone – G who had five minutes for lunch and wondered where I had taken Frazz off to. I told him all the things I had done and all the things I still had to do (going to buy Chaz’ drink, going to the horses, going to buy INK REMOVAL STUFF). And as we entered the neighborhood, there was G, driving out of it. I called him – “Where they HECK are you going?” He was going to buy himself a drink. So I dumped the Aunt Char errand on him. We found sick Aunt Chaz on the couch – so I dumped the Frazz on her, ran to the horses, where I remembered that I really, REALLY had to call Westin the moment I got home—courting heat-stroke in the fifteen minutes I was out there, and flew to the grocery store where I had to get out my glasses so I could read the back of all the Stain Remover Stuff.

20. Home at last, panting with the heat. Wilting with the heat. Melting in the heat. And I realized that I had forgotten two things. Two important things. I’d already parallel parked since the studio clients had used up most of the curb. But I couldn’t do without the stuff, so I just pulled out and drove back to the dang store.

21. I spent the rest of the afternoon making holes in my shirts with a panoply of chemicals. Most of the ink is gone. But I’m guessing I cut the active life of those shirts by about five years.

22. I brought in the mail, which included my new checks, a good thing since we had just about run out of the old ones, which we never really use anymore except at the Famer’s Market and with the Ferrier. Who I really, really needed to call. Four boxes of checks (which I paid for – but only got three) should last us pretty much till we die. I got happy, artsy, cheery checks that will be odd for us to use when we are ninety. I wanted to show Chaz, so I cut the wrap on one of the boxes and pried the thing open – and all of the checks came flying out all over the place in a huge fountain.

23. Chaz smiled. “It’s just been that kinda day, huh?”

24. Then we took the family picture. I had to run to put the horses back in at the last minute, which kind of spoiled the calm-and-refreshed look I’d slapped on myself. Cam was late because his deadlines had blown up on him. Guy couldn’t come out and pose until every other human face was in its perfect place, because he was in the middle of a woodwind session.

25. But we did it. The dogs didn’t hold still. Neither did Frazz. And I don’t think we got Scooter to smile, but you want real life, don’t you? The rest of us were utterly charming. And for the first time in many years, we had Kris in the shot, too. He even did a quick exam of Scooter’s teeth, which may be why Scooter had a problem smiling later.

26. The whole day was like that box of checks – just squirting out of control in a huge fountain. But Frazz was tons of fun. And Kris was safe and back with his family. And Chaz can’t talk (ah – the quiet in our house tonight. HA).

27. Then C and L helped me drop the new car off at the dealers – a small matter of the right rear window not opening.

28. Then I was home. And they were all gone. Just – poof. Like a summer storm, all sound and fury, a saturation of family—then nothing. All the noise and wind and excitement over. No Frazz to put to bed tonight. We are still drowning in toys and games because he’ll be back. But for now, everything will stay where it lies, maybe even for hours at a time. And we can sleep in tomorrow – we, who do not have to work. Which is me. And I did remember to call Westin the Ferrier. I don’t even remember when I did it, now, but it is done. And I know I’ve changed tenses in this story about three times, and I don’t care.

29. Thank you to my beloved ones who replied to my BEDLAM post – especially Q, who at least showed me where I could tell the stupid phone to leave the deleted messages on my server. (What?)

30. I’m hoping it will rain tonight, and somehow turn into early Autumn. Barring that, we will miss Gin and Frazz until they are back, and that is enough busy-ness for this house.

At least, for a while.