one, two, three strikes you're out at the old wed-ding

Not my favorite wedding.

A 'kid', 'Matt', who worked for Coach for years (starting as an aid in high school and still worked one weekend a month up until a few years ago) got married mid March. We had never met his fiance, but he was happy so we were happy. This kid, now in his 30's, literally grew up right before our eyes. He hit a rough patch as a teen and Coach had a very positive influence on him. He really looks up to Coach. Back in the day, we often hosted Coach's work parties at our house. Our kids were crazy about Matt. He used to get our kids all riled up, wrestle with them, tease them, etc.

I was rambling on about what I was gonna wear to the wedding, but I've decided to save that for another time, as that tale feels like its own post. Get excited. It's another Mini story, plus a glimpse into Ed's longtime girlfriend. 

Anyway, the wedding mass was in a church in a northern suburb. The invitations and the save the date had all arrived with a clear sports theme. 

Um, OK. She's a gym teacher and he's a gym rat. He's actually a really big guy and my kids grew up calling the groom 'Big ____", as in Big + his first name. Everyone called him that, not just my kids. 

They'd created their own logo and it was on everything. She likes donuts and he likes pizza or burgers, maybe. So the logo was the first letter of their soon to be last name and some sport balls and icons of their favorite foods. 

The mass booklets for the wedding carried on the theme with the logo front and center. I found it a little irreverent, as did Coach. Their wasn't an 'introductory rite' or 'liturgy of the word'. Instead it was an inning, or half time, etc. Each part of the mass was assigned a sport themed title. 

On the altar, as they were about to say their vows, the bride thought she was gonna hold the microphone, but the priest made it clear he was gonna hold it for her. She leaned into the microphone, "Sorry, it's my first time." Then she spun around to see if her bridesmaids were laughing. It felt a little 'off'. I'm sure plenty of people have a ceremony that includes a lot of playfulness and such, but this was a mass in a church and it didn't seem as though they were taking ANY PART OF IT SERIOUSLY. It was their day, so whatever. It was just a little distracting and it felt sort of flippant. 

I got my hair cut the next morning and my hairdresser said she was taking a break from doing hair and makeup at weddings for a similar reason. She feels like everything was for show and the people getting married were putting on a production not making a committment. 

The appetizers at the reception:  all food one would eat at a sporting event, like nacho chips and cheese. Gluten abounded. At first when I picked up my table place assignment I was blown away that they had 54 tables. Then I realized that we were assigned to sit at table 54 because it was a famous Bears' football players number. Cute. The center pieces were empty popcorn containers and miniature balls.

All the food was brought in, prepared off site. It was freakishly cold for the end of March. Like it was in the 30's. They propped a door open down a hall behind our table and I was a popsicle.  

The dinner was a buffet of all game day foods. This was not a place for a person who was STARVING, but needed to avoid gluten. There was pizza, sliders, nachos, nuggets, fries, and Italian Beef. I literally could only eat Italian Beef. I hoped no one dipped their bun in the beef to soak up the juices before I put a few pieces of meat on my plate. 

I was hungry as one is after not having eaten anything since lunch. I can tell you that my amoretto stone sours were going right to my head. So, when the bride's sister got up to give a toast and she ended with:  "to the happy couple, I think you guys are a homerun" - I threw my napkin on my table and leaned towards a few of our friends at the table and was like SERIOUSLY? THIS IS TOO MUCH. I might've slurred my words, a tad. 

The dessert table didn 't include a single chocolate covered strawberry. There were donuts though. 

In the middle of dancing, the couple went upstairs and instead of tossing a bouquet - they threw t-shirts, just like cheerleaders do at a basketball game. Guess who caught one? Yep. I sure did. I tried to give it to a 10 year old, but he didn't want it. 

Oops - I just realized I never added the photo
 - I drafted this post while in a hotel in Ohio
 and needed to didn't have a photo of my
 prize winning t-shirt in my google photos. 

The t-shirt says:  I SURVIVED THE "NAME OF COUPLE" WEDDING. I told Coach I was gonna write under it in sharpie. BARELY. 

The food bit was just so surprising. It's the year 2023. How did the caterer not suggest a tossed salad to avoid having anyone feel as thought they were gonna strike out? See what I did there? It's catchy. I guess.

Wedding odditties aside, we are so happy for Big Matt. He deserves all the happiness life has to offer and he seems to have met his soulmate. 

Anyone else attend an odd wedding? Ever go home from a wedding hangry? 

More Mini weaknesses & her version of WE'LL BE INTERVIEWING AS A TEAM

Speaking of Mini's weaknesses:  I don't think I ever got around to sharing details of our trip to Florida LAST spring. I'm talking 2022. So long ago. Where does the time go? 

I think I shared this very blog-ready pic
 that Reg took for the
 girls and I on the beach.

We rented an Airbnb and drove like 25 minutes to Fort Meyers Beach. It was fun - basically a long weekend. Suz was sweet enough to drive all the way up to meet the girls and I. A highlight of the trip. 

The pitfalls :  

1) when we landed at night. It was Mini's bday. We were starving. We bought flights before we rented a place, so we ended up renting a place that was a hike from the airport. As we drove past some fast food places in the rental car, Coach called out - WHAT LOOKS GOOD MINI? IT'S YOUR B-DAY. We are not fast food people, and this particular drive thru experience was downright hysterical. 

Coach ordered, then inched the car forward, expecting Mini to order from her window. Hey, Coach - as a former BK employee, that's not really how it's done. 

Mini tried to ask a question. She wasn't sure what food they offered. The woman got confused. Coach was getting frustrated. The employee was adding every sandwich Mini inquired about to our order. Confusion/hysteria ensued, along with a bad case of the giggles. Getting our order straight took an act of God. Then we waited for over 30 minutes for our food. We cannot drive past a Wendy's without mentioning it. 

2)  At the house the next morning, the owner came over and taught Mini and I how to heat the hot tub vs just the pool, etc. I was confused and was sidetracked texting Coach additional items for him to grab from the grocery store, but I looked at Ms. Notre Dame and assumed she was comprehending his lesson. 

My people, roasting at
the beach. After a long
 drive back to the house in the car, who
 wants to jump in the pool?
 Um, hold that thought. 

On our last day, we got home from the beach and everyone wanted to jump in the pool. Mini did just that and discovered, to her horror, that the pool had accidentally been heated until it was ready to hard boil eggs. She screwed something up on the switch-this-dial-and-leave-this-pointing-that-way directions. We knew we'd be billed for the cost of heating THE ENTIRE pool. 

I had no idea what that might come out to be, but I laughed so much that I assured Mini we weren't worried. This was a mere weeks after she'd gotten the Evans Scholarship, so we were still giddy with, IT'S OK, YOU GOT THE EVANS. It ended up being a $10 bill. Well worth the laugh, and Mini's nervous glances around the yard like the 'heat police' were gonna come after her. The downside was that the kids couldn't use the pool on that, our last night.  

Speaking of pools and swimming . . . last summer Mini expressed an interest in getting a bikini wax. I discouraged it. Note that this is a girl who doesn't go to the pool often. Also, she's literally the most ticklish person ever to live. She has an over abundance of ear wax and she has to go to the ear doctor office every 4 months to have them suction it out. Is she good at remembering to do this? No, but it becomes obvious when she becomes mostly deaf. We always hope she gets a person at the ear doc place who is, um, familiar with her 'issues.'

Not that a bikini wax is ticklish, persay. 

This summer, she again explained that she wanted a bikini wax. I was like, HEY - I'M ALL FOR YOU DOING WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. I'M JUST NOT SURE HOW YOU WILL MANAGE IT.

That's when I learned of my involvemet. As in - HI, WE'LL BE INTERVIEWING AS A TEAM. ~ that's a quote from Step Brothers. Not the same, but you get the idea? Like, she needed me to sit next to her on a little stool as if I was her support person while she was giving birth. 

There we were. At the place. They called Mini back, and we both followed the esthetician. Yep. The look of shock on the poor woman's face. I explained, as best I could, because how does one even explain Mini? 

I apologized profusely and then rattled off some Mini-isms to put the woman at ease . . . as if that's possible. I stayed facing the wall, near Mini's head so that I could smack her if necessary, but mostly to keep the conversation flowing as the hair in her area was ripped away. 

This was the day before the kids were hanging on their friends' boat during the Swift concert, so I explained the t-shirts they were gonna wear, and how they'd considered attaching Swiffer sheets all over them and going as Swiff-ees vs Swifties. The esthetician chuckled. I wanted to say HEY FOLKS, I'LL BE HERE ALL WEEK - but let's just all praise the lord that I will NOT be there all week.

Weirdest thing you've done for your kid or a friend? Have you messed something up at a hotel or at an Airbnb and had to pay a fine? Anyone else worry they or a love one will die from being so ticklish? Know anyone who goes deaf because of an ear wax build up?

stiffed in the tournie & letter writing: I'm here for it

I'm home . . . briefly. I leave this morning for the art museum bucket list tour. 

I drove to ND Friday, grabbed Curly, drove to Hamilton, OH where she played a game Fri (missed an earlier one) & Sat. Won all those games. Curly played amazing in the Sat. game. I saw the first game Sunday before driving home. We were down 23, fought back and ended up losing by only 4. Bummer. We just needed another minute to pull it off. They won the next game Sunday evening. She plays two more games today and a dad is driving her home. 

More caddy tales:  One golfer, who the kids find a tad odd, introduces them to other golfers as follows:  "This is Mini. She's a Shenanigan. The Shenanigans are Tall Oaks Club Royalty (fake club name). Seriously, very important family. Long line of great caddies."

Mini was like HE SAYS THAT ALL THE TIME AND I DON'T HAVE A RESPONSE ANYMORE. I'M LIKE, HA, NO. YOU'RE SO FUNNY. THE END. LIKE DUDE THINK OF A NEW LINE. AWKWARD. 

Tank made $500 at the member guest. At a tournament earlier in the summer, Ed made $900. Even Curly, a B level caddy, made $240. Reg made a boat load too. Poor Mini, she was paid $175 . . . for 45 holes. 

What now? 

She worked for like 12 hours. In the heat. She's an A caddy. There were tears. As an Evans scholar, she doesn't get great loops, which we understand. She doesn't NEED the money for tuition. But scholarship or not - she deserved to be paid for her time. Her golfer is the BIL of one of our close friends. The dude's niece is one of Mini's best friends from high school. 

And the golfer WENT TO NOTRE DAME. 

Coach was quick to point this out to my dad, a proud ND alum. 

The next day, Tank was back at the caddy shack. Some people take a day off after the big, exhausting tournament. Not Tank or Reg.   

Tank told the caddy master, and if you are wondering - yes, that IS a legit job title,  that Mini's payment wasn't right. The caddy master agreed and we think he'll have a chat with the ND BIL. Caddy master did that earlier in the summer when Reg was stiffed. As a result, the golfer forked over an extra $50. 

In the meantime, Nana, my mom, walked over to our house with an envelope full of cash. Mini fought her off bravely, but Nana is not one to take no for an answer. 

Nana:  THE OFFICE CALLED, UM - I WAS TOLD TO GIVE YOU THIS. NOW STOP IT. I HAVE MY ORDERS. 

Who should I address my letter to? - I asked the kids this and they were like, MOM, STOP IT. YOU AREN'T DOING THAT. Well, I'm ready and willing to address the shortcomings of the club. 

I bought this shirt for Tank
a few years ago. It has
 birds sitting on golf clubs. This is before
 he went golfing for 36 holes.
 Note:  the mess in the
 background is real life. There are ALWAYS
 shoes a mere inches from the mudroom
 or bags of stuff on a counter and
 water bottles and backpacks. Of course. 

1. They serve elaborate lunches for the members at these tournaments, and then the caddies are allowed one hot dog. Not two. And not a food item that is NOT a hot dog. Once they ran out of dogs, so they cut a sausage, that was intended for members', down the middle and had the caddies split the sausage. Come on, now. Most of these caddies eat like full grown men - at least mine do. Feed.your.damn.employees.

2. And, most golf courses allow the caddies to golf on the course on Mondays when the course is closed,. This course rarely allows the caddies to golf.  

Fun fact:  Coach, his two brothers, and my two brothers caddied together at a course in the North 'burbs back in high school. Both my dad and Coach's dad caddied in their respective south side Chicago and Cleveland, OH back in the day. All golfed most Mondays. Or swam in the pool. 

Have you seen the movie Caddy Shack? Remember the Baby Ruth getting dropped in the pool? I believe it's when all the caddies show up for the small window of time they have to use the pool. 

A rare Monday golf game:  Tank asked if he could golf on Monday - after the big tournament and they said yes. He golfed more than 36 holes. Mostly by himself. Poor Ed was in Orlando and Reg was at ND Vision, a spirituality camp - so they missed out on a rare golf opportunity. Tank bumped into the pool manager and golfed the back 9 with him. He told Tank to stop by the pool sometime and he'd hook him up with a free meal. Of course he did.

Do you know any caddies? Have you ever been stiffed at a job? Are you the letter writing type? Do you feel better afterwards or have much success getting issues addressed? I just completed a very long, detailed letter to Tank's college about the many ways the study abroad program failed. We are suggesting that they discontinue sending kids to University of Limerick. I'll keep you posted on the response. 

coaching culture, high school hype videos, caddies are us, and a road trip

Coaching culture - Not sure if this has made national news, but Northwestern University has fired their football coach and their baseball coach for hazing /bullying type behavior. I want to email our principal:

SEE THIS? THIS IS A TOXIC CULTURE ISSUE - ONE FORMER PLAYER INTERVIEWED STATED THAT IT ISN'T JUST A SINGLE COACH, BUT THAT THEY ALL ALLOW IT OR PARTICIPATE OR TURN A BLIND EYE. 

I think the high school needs to clean house and get rid of a ton of coaches and especially the athletic director, but MOSTLY I feel like Ego should not be able to continue to be involved in the basketball program, or any coaching position. Yet, there he is. 

'Wildcat Mafia' - Wildcat Mafia at our high school was started by one of Ed's friends, 'Kyle', when Kyle and Ed were juniors. (Not the real name, we are not the wildcats). It's a spirit campaign shared on social media, which is organized by a few senior boys each year. They post funny, hype-type videos before games, etc. 

When Tank was a freshman, Kyle featured him in most of the videos. Tank's cousins were dying watching him rise to stardom with his silly antics. Picture him running down empty high school halls screaming like a super fan, etc. When Tank was a senior, he ran Wildcat Mafia.  

Each year the seniors hand over the account password to a guy or two who are rising seniors. They choose someone with a sense of humor. 

Tony and Nathan are both seniors who played varsity basketball with Reg. Both boys were involved in Wildcat Mafia. Nathan transferred to our high school as a sophomore. Reg, a freshman on zoom at the time, took Nathan under his wing and introduced him to guys his age and shot hoops with him often. 

During the season, Nathan saw Ego for what he was. He commiserated with Reg. Tony, on the other hand, thought Ego was a hoot. He liked that he was just one of the guys, while also being bummed that he didn't get much playing time. 

According to Nathan, Tony didn't want to give Reg the password to Wildcat Mafia since Reg got Ego fired. (Ego is not gonna coach varsity, but he's FAR FROM fired. That'd be dreamy). Ridiculous. 

Tank's sign: 
HAPPY MEMBER GUEST.

We're not Italian, but I did let Tank know that I wanted this thing with Tony 'handled.' FYI  - Tony caddies at the same course as the Shenanigan kids.

Member-Guest - Last weekend was the member-guest tournament. The four youngest caddied 27 holes on Friday and then another 18 on Saturday.

Tank woke up early Friday and prepared waffles for 'his brethren'  - what he calls his fellow caddies. He asked Alexa to play We Are the Champions. They posed for a rare photo.

*Ed caddied in some big tournaments over the summer when he wasn't studying for the CPA exam, but this time he was in Orlando for orientation for with his PWC job. He's gone 10 days and I miss him. 

Welcome to Tank's pancake house.

Saturday evening, our four caddies were exhausted after caddying in crazy hot and humid temps. There were stories. We sat around the kitchen table for a few hours after dinner as they compared notes and told tales. 

Tank:  SO, TONY CAME OVER TO THE FOUR OF US AFTER OUR ROUND WHEN WE WERE WAITING TO BE PAID. HE WAS LIKE "HEY SHENANIGANS, HOW'S IT GOING?" I PUT MY ARM OVER HIS SHOULDERS AND SAID, "HEY TONE, ISN'T IT GREAT THAT REG GOT EGO FIRED?"

Tony:  OH, YEAH. THAT'S AWESOME.

Mini:  YEAH, EXCEPT REG DIDN'T GET EGO FIRED. EGO GOT HIMSELF FIRED. 

Boom, ROASTED. I'm thrilled that my people would enlightened Tony. Honestly, I bet he still thinks less of Reg, but at least the sibs let that twit know where we stand. 

Roadtrip -  On Monday (or maybe Sunday evening, if I'm not too tired), if all goes as planned, Mini, Uncle Marty, and I will be road tripping to Youngstown and Cleveland. Returning on Wednesday night. 

Why? Because nothing says time for a road trip like a genius uncle with a couple of fab Midwest art museums on his bucket list. 

If you're in Ohio and you wanna catch a glimpse of us, we'll be the ones driving a car with Texas plates (need to find time to get to the DMV), with a mom/daughter 'did-she-clone-her-kid' duo, who will be alternating pushing the wheel chair of a tall, rail-thin man with sticking up gray hair (think Albert Einstein) who is overjoyed and contemplating every artistic treasure, possibly for more time than the mom/daughter team thought possible. 

Uncle sees his oncologist today. He's concerned she'll say he can't go in order to start chemo. Praying we can make this trip happen. Later I'll share our logistic challenges, our convincing Marty moments, followed closely be our give-a-mouse-a-cookie scenario. Also, there has been some poo-poo-ing from my sister, Ann. But you saw that coming, didn't you in?  

* keep in mind - tomorrow I drive to Notre Dame to get Curly (Reg is going back with the group). From there I drive her to play b-ball in Franklin, Ohio, then I leave her there with her team and I drive home Sunday, 

AND THEN the above road trip begin-ith.

Suggestions for upcoming 'Wildcat' mafia videos that I can pass on to Reg? Have you been to the art museum in Youngstown or Cleveland? Any guesses on how much a caddy makes in a tournament like this?

squatty what? when did I turn 80? and I'll take my records minus the aggression

Here we are at my gut issue update. I challenge you to find a more exciting read. 

Remember how new-GI-lady diagnosed me with SIBO in late April? I scheduled a follow-up for early June. They later called to reschedule, because the doc couldn't make it. The new date they gave me while I was driving and couldn't peek at my calendar ended up not working for me. I called to reschedule the reschedule, and guess what date they gave me?

Nothing. As in- there is not a single date for me to get in to see this doctor. Ever. What?

So, I zoomed at the end of May with a PA from her office. I told her that my symptoms got a little better, but after a few weeks I started having the same waking with pain in my side. I associate that with SIBO, but to be honest - who really knows? Since I haven't seen my doc - how can I be sure if that was caused by SIBO?

I have no photos for this post . . .
she says, as everyone
 breathes a sigh of relief. This is Curly and Reg
 counting out her money. She admitted that she
 never made a deposit last summer. WHAT?
 Between last summer and so far this summer,
 she had $5,000. Just sitting up in
 her room jammed into a tiny little money box.

I was instructed to do a colon cleanse. Nothing says embrace summer than a colon cleanse. Then she suggested I drink a glass of Miralax along with Citrucel pills daily for a few months. Then check back.  

Full 'SILLY-ME' disclosure:  She listed like 6 various options for the pills to take with Miralax, such as Metamucil, colon-blow-this and colon-blow-that. I was a little preoccupied when I prepared to go to the store and I bought EVERY.THING.ON.THE.LIST. As I filled my cart, a commercial came on the radio in the drug store for one of the colon-blow products I was searching for. I looked around, assuming I was on some sort of hidden camera show. Nope. Just life being all real and ironic and stuff. 

Fortunately, when I was about to start the THIS IS WHAT YOU DO AFTER THE COLON CLEANSE regiment, I experienced a moment of clarity and I thought - surely she isn't expecting me to take ALL OF THESE BRING-ON-THE-COLON-BLOW products. 

I emailed her, not revealing that I'd almost ingested enough fiber supplement to  blow up a rhino's entrails. 

Me:  AM I TO JUST CHOOSE ONE OF THESE PRODUCTS TO GO ALONG WITH THE MIRALAX? 

PA:  Yes, ONE. 

Why, then, did she not break up the fiber supplement product list with a simple 'or' between every item? Praise the lord that I woke up from autopilot mode and didn't rupture any of my parts. 

Everything was feeling fine, but a few weeks later the pain in my side started up again. The waking in pain crept back as if to say - CAN'T FOOL ME. YOU CAN'T TAKE ENOUGH FIBER TO KEEP THINGS MOVING. Or CAN I?  Enter directions to take Miralax twice a day per another email from the PA. 

She believes I have a 'slow process'. 

(below is an email she sent me. content warning: GROSSNESS IN THE FORM OF BODILY FUNCTIONS DISCUSSED.)

I suspect you might have what we call dyssynergic defecation. . . . pelvic floor muscles do not coordinate appropriately to pass a bowel movement. What ends up happening is that you do not empty your bowels completely every time you go. Over time, this can result in stool back up and ultimately abdominal pain. Miralax will help keep your stools soft, but it won't help you completely empty.

We can test for dyssynergic defecation with rectal manometry. This procedure is on hold at the moment, but I am hopeful that we will offer this testing again soon. In the mean time, the squatty potty (Which improves positioning) can help you better empty your bowels when you go.

Well, I, too, am hopeful that this procedure comes back soon too. NOT. What on earth? 

Did I miss my own 80th birthday party or something? This cannot be happening. 

And Hello - a squatty potty? Do what, now? I responded to say something along the lines of:  I DO NOT HAVE A DIFFICULT TIME GOING. I HAVE A DIFFICULT TIME WHEN 'THINGS' REACH ONE SPOT IN MY LEFT SIDE. EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HALT THERE.

This is me waiting for my
 annual OBGYN exam.
 I remained calm despite the
fact that construction signage
 for the exit caused me to miss my exit. 
 Instead of being 5 minutes early,
I was 15 minutes late.
 I was like What can I do?
This was shortly after
 I was maxed out on Miralax, and I wasn't
 quite sure how that would play out, if you
 know what I mean.
All was fine, thankfully.

Look at me - I'm now embracing my 80's and overdosing on Miralax. 

Backing up the bus:

In February I called my former GI office, the one with the doctor who missed the fact that I had SIBO even though I'd landed in the ER, lost weight, and had been seeing him about pain in my side for over 5 years . . . yeah, that guy. I requested my records from his office, explaining to the business office woman that I'd lost a lot of weight and my GP wanted me to get another opinion. The woman on the phone could NOT have been more disgruntled and hostile. Second opinions are a thing, by golly. 

Business office lady:  WELL, YOU HAVEN' T BEEN IN FOR A COLONOSCOPY SINCE 2018 (or maybe 19?).  * nevermind the fact that I'd been in multiple times because of the pain in my side and he would just shrug and assume I'd eaten something with gluten. WRONG. 

I still have to call Ms. Bossy Pants back to let her know that her GUY-GI missed SIBO. Please raise your hand if you'd like me to record that call and share it here. I  can almost guarantee that it'll include something along the lines of:  

MY RECORDS ARE MY BUSINESS. I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO REQUEST THEM (Coach, a medical professional was outraged when I shared how she'd acted). YOUR GI-GUY IS CLUELESS AND HE CAN'T FIGURE SHIT OUT. (no pun intended). IT ISN'T YOUR JOB TO MAKE PEOPLE FEEL BAD ABOUT SEEKING A SECOND OPINION. THIS DUDE SUCKS AND I NEEDED TO SEE SOMEONE ELSE (nevermind that I can't get a follow-up with her). TAKE YOUR RECORDS AND SHOVE 'EM TO WHERE THE SCOPE GOES, MS. BOSSY PANTS. 

Oh, I almost forgot. My upper lip went numb for about 3 weeks - like novicaine numb. The feeling is almost 100% back. I spent an $80 copay at my dermatologist to see if it was due to sun exposure. It's a relief that it isn't precancer. It doesn't look like anything. She had no explanation. 

Guess what can cause perioral numbness . . . SIBO. Guess how I know that? NOT from a follow-up with my doc - from Dr. Google. Guess who had the same upper lip numbness last summer? Yep. (remember I believe I've had SIBO for years) I don't think this damn SIBO-bitch has gone away. 

Guess what else I learned from Dr. Google? SIBO can cause mental confusion. This explains why I forgot to celebrate my 80th bday 28 years in advance.

What doctor have you seen that cannot get you back in for a follow up? Ever have anyone make you feel like dirt because you request your records to be sent somewhere else? Anyone else pay an $80 copay? I know I sound old, but it wasn't that long ago that it was $20. I can't help but wonder if my Mom has undiagnosed celiac and with it SIBO. She is rail thin and of course, confused - diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

How to divide up Uncle's valuables? And elderly brothers' mix-up

Remember how I flew to Texas with my hotdog-loving father and Ed in mid May? Then Ed and I drove home from Texas in Uncle's car. This is the car that we, the Shenanigans, now affectionally call 'Tex.' I sure hope there isn't an expiration date on when I have to go to the DMV to get Illinois plates, because AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.

Well, I do not have time for a visit to the DMV. Life has been ridiculously hectic. I'm hoping to share more on that soon. 

Is it just me? I have SO many thing I want to blog about. I have lists upon lists. Blogging twice a week isn't enough to fit in EVERYTHING. Don't worry, I'm not suggesting that I'm gonna start blogging daily. I misplace my 'need-to-blog-about' lists and then I realize I STILL HAVEN'T SHARED THE SIDEWALK STORY or THE SHOES IN OMAHA story. 

I'm gonna try to catch you all up, but first I have my life-with-Mini series that keeps getting more and more interesting, because that girl . . . well last night she washed her own clothes, per the management. Her white shirt came out of the dryer covered in blue streaks. We decided that she put her load on rinse instead of wash and the shirt was showing detergent. My new washer isn't very complicated. Why is this hard? *this is the 2nd time she did this this summer. 

Nana being silly with
a lace placemat.

Dad asked me to organize the valuables I packed up at Uncle's house in Feb and share the offerings with the family members so we could decided who wanted what. This was AN UNDERTAKING. Mini and I tackled it. 

In early June we ran over to my folks' basement where I'd previously unloaded the boxes. Mini took a million photos, OK about 100. I cataloged the items. In my spare time, I typed up a word doc with descriptions and labels like 'AI' and created a corresponding photo guide. 

WHO WILL GET WHAT? 

Ed suggested that each grandkid (after the adult siblings choose anything, which probably won't be much because we have crystal and china, etc.) get so many tokens or tickets. If a person really wanted the Waterford crystal, then he/she would maybe put all of his/her tokens in for that collection. Then if there were items requested by more than one cousin, we would draw numbers or determine that the large collection be handed out one per family, etc. 

It's complicated, at least I think it is. 

I emailed my siblings and asked them for input. Did they like this distribution idea, or did they have a better idea? 

This was an unintentional
 photo of Mini while
photographing
our silver department.

Marie came in town and stayed with my folks for a few days. She does this from time to time. She texted yesterday to say that she'd visited my folks' basement and that she'd like a set of the everyday dishes unless a recent college grad wanted them. In which case, she'd buy her own new dishes. 

Ann shared that her two sons who are out of college wanted a few things. One wanted a set of glasses - either the blue ones, or the Waterford champagne, or some other glasses. The other son wants a few whiskey glasses. 

Both sisters 'shopped' in the basement, which is totally fine - so long as we ignore the fact that I want to jump off a cliff for the amount of time I spent creating the catalog of items. 

Their requests are fine and reasonable. Mini wants the fine china though and most kids haven't even looked at the photos, don't live nearby to 'shop' in the basement. There are 11 granddaughters in total (and 11 grandsons). What happens when more kids want the same things? I was hoping to create a system that eliminated as many hard feelings or weird hierarchies as possible. 

Now what? 

Should I request that they stop sharing what each kid wants, because that might get a little tricky? I was trying to steer clear of people calling out 'DIBBS.'

Marie suggested we all just get together and hash it out. That sounds awkward and challenging. Is it me? 

How would you go about this? Have you gone about this? When my folks pass away they will have a detailed will. Uncle didn't have these valuables listed in his will.  

I'll leave you with a funny story from when we moved Uncle up to Chicago:

A few hours after Ed and I had started driving Tex home, Pat texted that the dinner at the neighbors' was great, but that Uncle Marty was starting to come unglued. Wondering if he should be moving or staying near his friends. He was a ball of emotions. I felt bad for leaving before we'd planned, but Dad had practically chased us out. Also, once the moving van left and Aunt's ashes had been located, Uncle seemed to perk up and he appeared relaxed. 

Then Pat texted asking Ed if he'd seen Dad's fleece pullover. Ed reached around and dug thru his bag. He'd shared a guest room with Dad. He didn't have it. This was a mystery. I'd gotten Dad this fleece for Christmas. I told Pat to tell him that if it didn't turn up, I'd order another one on Amazon. 

The next morning, Pat corralled the two elderly brothers to the airport. Suddenly Dad looked at Mart and said:  HEY, MARTY. IS THAT MY FLEECE YOU'RE WEARING? WAIT A MINUTE . . . IS THAT MY SHIRT TOO?

When Dad undressed and dropped his clothe near the bed in the guest room, one of the nurses/helpers, who showed up now and then, must've picked Dad's clothes up  after all the guest room furniture was loaded on the truck. This was the one room of furniture that went with Uncle. She laid the clothes on Uncle's bed in the master bedroom on the other side of the house, assuming they belonged to Uncle. Uncle woke up and got dressed in the clothes that he assumed someone had laid out for him.

Pat was cracking up at the exchange. Uncle Marty turned to Pat and said:  AREN'T YOU GLAD THERE ARE ONLY TWO BROTHERS? 

Please share any valuable dividing suggestions in the comments. Is anyone surprised that my sisters have ignored my suggestion of adopting a uniform system for this? I, personally, can hear them twittering:  WHAT? THAT'S DUMB. WE CAN ALL JUST DECIDE. Well, OK - but then my kid is getting the fine china. My boys will take the German beer steins. 

things I've chewed: Finnegan's diary

This one really hurt.

Before Christmas, Reg rolled out his muscle near his knee using my grandmother's antique wooden rolling pin. We now own a Styrofoam roll for rolling of muscles. Hello, your father is a PT - request equipment please and leave my grandmother's rolling pin in the cabinet. 

The rolling pin is was something I treasure. Reg should've put it away, but he left it on the family room floor. Lad was keeping very strange hours at the time, so he fell asleep on the couch after we all went to bed. Finn was not allowed in the family room, but Lad regularly let him off of his leash when we weren't around. Poor Finn was so confused by the inconsistent rules. Lad fell asleep on the couch in the wee hours of the night, Finn chewed up the rolling pin. Grandma had taken SUCH good care of it. I still kept it in the cloth holder that she used. 

With the once-pristine holder.

When it was time to make Christmas cookies, I couldn't find the rolling pin. I remembered seeing it somewhere strange. It was sticking out of Lad's mudroom locker. I grabbed the handle, pulled it out, and doubled over  when I saw that half of it was chewed up.

This teether - gnawed on by
a different set of teeth.

Lad had tucked it in his locker and pretended nothing happened. When confronted, he said he intended to just get some wood putty or sand it down or something. Sure. That'll work. Anyone want some uneven Christmas cookies? Or can I perhaps interest you in a pastry with dog teeth markings baked right in?

I'm down a lego horse.

In April, Finn wanted something on the kitchen table, so he jumped up and pawed at it while no one was home. He was on his leash tied to the back door, but he could reach one corner of the table. I had my kitchen table custom made in '17. He scratched the shit out of it. I'm sure the top can be resealed or something - still I DON'T OWN A DOG.

There are countless items that Finnegan has damaged. Poor Miss Piggy. I kick myself for this one. I made Curly clean out her closet. That darling Muppet with a crush on Kermit was on her closet floor. 

Curly danced in Orlando back when she was around 8. Our pastor gave the four youngest kids, who I was taking with me to the competition, money to spend on a souvenir. Curly picked Piggy. She was old enough to take good care of it. When she cleaned her closet, I told her to put it in the basement in a big bin of stuffed toys. If only I'd have left her on the closet floor. 

All dressed up and no where
to go (looking like a disaster).

Lad often slept in the basement - on the couch, with Finn sleeping in his cage, kennel? See, I don't even know dog lingo. But we figured out that Lad often let Finn wander freely while he was watching TV or snoozing. I stumbled upon poor mauled Miss Piggy. Her hair torn, her eyes misaligned. It was not pretty. 

Unrelated, but where
 there is Piggy,
 Kermit should not
 be far behind. 

Reg's shoe. Countless toys from my daycare. Finnegan chewed all the vegetables and flowers that go to my garden. They don't make that anymore and I wanted to save it for my grandkids. I managed to find a slightly used one online and had Lad go buy it for me.  Now I have that one tucked away in the corner of my bedroom, as one does. The wooden frame of our French sliding glass door. The list goes on and on. 

Plastic vegetables - what
 every dog's diet needs. 

Lad brought Finn here the night of Lad's bday. Finnegan was OUT OF HIS MIND excited to see us. Well, me. I do feel bad that he's living in an apartment, but I'm sure Lad pops home often since it is just across the street from his work.

What the garden looks like - this one was
missing it's vegetables. A new, slightly used
version is in the corner of my room.

On a recent visit to see Uncle Mick, I bumped into my sister, Ann. 

Ann:  I didn't know Lad was moving out. Where? Why? When did that happen? What's he doing with the dog? Well, he can't keep his dog in an apartment.  Ernie, that's not right. 

Really? Hey, Ann. Do ya think there's a reason you didn't know that Lad is moving out? Do you ever have a regular conversation without spouting off about what should and shouldn't be? When was the last time you just called up to, oh- I don't know, chat? I know why I don't call her, see the above - exhibit A. Exhibit A. 

* Of course we now know that Lad did not move into an apartment. He bought a house. Yep. A house. We have no idea where. He did mention that he cut a hole in the screen so his TWO dogs could run in and out. Not.my.problem. 

Pet owners - most upsetting thing your pet has destroyed? Anyone else have a sister/friend/neighbor who says THE DARNDEST THINGS? 

I got sidetracked, but I have a few of my favorite Mini stories to share soon. Stay tuned.

kicked off a zoom, pruning sheers - what every bedroom needs, and a door that goes down, at long last

but first, sad news:  Coach and I went to a Catholic high school with a huge family with many extensions and connections. All the cousins attended our same high school. Everyone knew them. Most of us had a least one cousin in our graduating class. They were an impressive bunch. Coach's parents still live in that same area and have been friends with one of the families forever. Coach's younger brother, 'Mark' is best friends with one of them, 'Jake'. Late on the 4th of July, my SIL, Mark's wife, sent out a group text to all of Coach's sibs/in-laws. I doubled over when I read the text.

Jake's younger brother was driving a boat on July 4th in Lake Michigan. It was pulling a tube. Kids fell off the tube and looked like they were struggling. He jumped in and was under for about a minute. He drowned. All the kids were pulled safely into the boat. He was 43 years old. I believe his 3 kids are roughly 7, 5, and 3. 

It's such a shock. I didn't know him, but we all know various members of this man's family. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers. 

*************

Shortly after Lad moved most of his stuff out, Tank was doing yard work for us. Praise the lord. He isn't working for the landscaping people this summer, just caddying, and I think he misses the landscape stuff. Our poor, mostly-ignored yard was in need of some attention. One day Tank couldn't find the pruning sheers. They're huge. 

Coach:  HOW COME I FEEL LIKE I SAW THEM UNDER LAD'S DRESSER?

He texted Lad. Lad left work to come over. He produced an enormous pair of pruning sheers. They looked like the missing pair, but Coach realized that they weren't his. In the meantime, I'd scolded Lad. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THEY WERE LOOKING FOR THOSE?

I attended the next zoom with Lad. Coach was at work. The doc had finally gotten Lad's ADD paperwork. She asked him stuff about how he was feeling? How were his relationships? Any anxiety? His response was all fine and dandy, other than being disorganized and he was ready for that RX. 

Well, I have a different perspective than Lad. I saw behaviors during his move out that reminded me of the dark days of the pandemic when he was coming unglued. Back then, his anxiety ramped up and he left home for 5 months - opting to blame Coach and I for everything wrong with life. Now he'd come home to move things out and was upset that I'd washed some of his clothes - he'd preferred that I wash a different pile.

People, there were so many piles and I was trying to be helpful. Laundry is one of Lad's challenges. He claimed the pile that I'd lead with was already clean. Really? It was JAMMED into a small container that once housed toys. No way was it ready to be worn. Regardless, he pounded around in the laundry room until I thought the washer and dryer were gonna come through the ceiling. Then he erupted at Mini- someone he tends to take things out on when he's struggling. 

But he claimed to the doc that his relationships were fine. Hmm.

He'd admitted to me the week prior when he stopped home to grab stuff that he was lonely living in the apartment. Oh, my heart. Funny how the months of frustration can melt away. Other moms assured me, this was just an adjustment. 

But STILL, lonely? 

I took that opportunity to point out to him that a condo community of young people might be a better fit. This apartment living might be a good test run, before he buys anything, to see what it is that he likes or doesn't like. He's dead set on a yard. My fear is a house will be isolating. 

Anyway, when I was zooming with the ADD doc, Lad told her that since the move he'd dealt with some hostility from us. He described the mistaken identity of his pruning sheers.

Part of what was left after
 he sort of moved out.

Hang on now - do we even need to talk about how strange it is that Lad owned a pruning sheers that he kept under his dresser? I believe he used it to cut up branches to insert into aquariums. 

I piped up and gave the doctor some context, not because I wanted to embarrass Lad, but because I wanted her to know the truth. Lad struggles. A lot. I explained that over the last 4 or 5 months, I've gone into that disaster of a room and unearthed probably 80 mismatched socks. Not just Lad's socks. My socks. Curly's. Reg's. Coach's. This explains why I have mountains of socks that I cannot find matches for. This also explains why we had every reason to believe that he'd snatched the pruning sheers from the garage and forgotten to put them back. He's taken other people's shoes, chargers, etc. It's standard operating procedure.

One sock collection I gathered.

Lad became combative. Over zoom. He shouted at me saying that he was doing this for me. I repeated over and over again, YOU SHOULD DO THIS FOR YOURSELF, NOT FOR US. He told the doctor, I KNOW HOW MY BRAIN WORKS. The doctor, who  I'd filled in via email with the background on what we've dealt with, asked Lad if he wanted her to ask me to leave the zoom. 

I was fine hopping off the zoom. A few days later, I texted Lad to say hi. His birthday was coming, I asked what meal he wanted  me to make for him. I then texted him a whole thing about how we just want the best for him. Lad texted back as if nothing had happened. Asked me when he could pick up his prescription. I was like NO IDEA. ASK YOUR DOCTOR. 

*editing to add:  Lad showed up to our house on July 4th with ANOTHER dog. A dalmation puppy? Seriously? I've been struggling with the fact that he gets fired up

Lad's dopamine fallout.
Finn and Ronan.

about something like he did on the zoom call, but then glosses over it. Refuses to address it. Jokes around when at home, why? So we don't try to solve anything?

Right or wrong, this struck me today and when I came home from the grocery store and he was parked in my driveway at 9:45 pm and I couldn't park to bring my $400 load of food in and he was just inside eating our food, I got upset. 

I snapped at him and told him it was time to address shit. Time to see a therapist. Get to the bottom of things. I mean why the FUCK is he buying another dog? So, he's texted several angry texts. Stating that I need help, not him, that he won't take the meds anymore, etc. etc. etc. Maybe my DON'T PARK THERE AGAIN - PARK IN THE STREET, etc. was ill timed, but I just can't pretend everything is on the up and up. So, this sucks. 

I managed to sort all of these, plus
 a ton of sport socks. These were
 the work related type that I was texting
 the kids to see if anyone
wanted to claim a pair, or 5.

Back to previously written post ending:  Sadly, Coach believes that someone snatched the real pruning sheers out of the garage. Our garage door hadn't gone done consistently since 2016 when it got pulled off the track by GW because the red handle-on-a-string dangling from the garage door opener got caught in the van door. 

The good news is that I grew tired of pushing the button to make the door go down, hearing a loud popping noise, watching the door go part way down before going back up . . . so I announced THAT'S IT. WE NEED TO CALL SOMEONE. We called a guy. 

Coach had a patient tell him of a guy he trusted. A guy who didn't try to sell him a whole new everything. That guy came out and it was only like $237 to fit the door with some kind of brace. No more popping noise. No more hoping the door would go down. No more hitting the button multiple times, waiting or leaving it up hoping someone else would be home soon. 

Ever lived with a sock thief?  Weirdest thing you keep in your bedroom- garden tools? Ever been politely kicked off a zoom? 

Suggestions for what to do next in terms of Lad? I'm pretty exhausted and I'm pretty exhausted that Coach says nothing. I'm always the bad guy. I also am home majority of the time and run a daycare from home and dealt with dog issues and Lad's messes for TOO LONG.

hoping this guy's gonna thrive now that he's 25!

Lad moved out  . . . recently. WITH FINN. Yes, that is a happy-shouting font. We were never set up to house a dog and it really wasn't working for us. I do love dogs, but they need to live with someone else. 

Hard to pinpoint a date that he left, since he still has 'stuff' here, like a gi-normous dog kennel in the basement on the Irish dancing stage. And he breezes in and out when the spirit, or his appetite, moves him. Last week, he came here after a morning workout. Decided to make eggs. Dropped a raw egg on the floor. Cleaned it up, half ass. Ate his cooked eggs. Left the pan near the sink. And  disappeared out the door.

Mini baked the cake and Curly decorated it.
 In my new summer grocery system - we
only visit the grocery 1x a week. So, I found
 a recipe for cream cheese frosting since
 we didn't have any white frosting for the
 cake. It was a big hit. Who knew there was
 an easy way to make frosting with what we
 had on hand vs store bought frosting?
 Well, not us. Ashamed to admit.

Lad turned 25 on June 25th. 

The move out was a long time coming, but it was a little emotional for me. At times. He's lived with us, for the most part, for 25 years. Is he easy to live with? Nope. Did we sort of force the inevitable? Yes, we sure did.

In late winter, Lad expressed interest in shopping for a place to buy. Coach and I were not on the same page as Lad. Shock. He was thinking house and we were thinking condo. He wants a yard for the dog. We know what he can afford, he thinks he knows what he can afford. Big difference. 

One day I arranged for Lad and I to look at a few places. The 'many lakes' condos, where Coach and I want him to live, occasionally have something pop up. By the time I share these listing with Lad, the places are usually contingent. Gone. Unavailable. This market is killing me.

Our wonderful realtor, myself, and Lad planned to look at a many lakes condo, followed by a few houses to appease Lad. 

The condo area we favor is about 2o or 25 minutes from where we live in the suburbs. It's centrally located, so jobs in the north or south suburbs would still work if he changed jobs. The development is chock full of young people. There are multiple sand volleyball courts. Wooded trails. A ski slope. It has its own convenient store and bar. There are a four lakes, and folks can rent canoes and kayaks - Lad already owns two kayaks, which add a lovely 'they-need-a-shed' look to our yard. *our neighborhood doesn't allow sheds.* Lad never asked if he could store them here, but he tosses them behind, or near, our bushes and thinks everything is A-OK. 

Let's hope constant eye-rolling doesn't lead to blindness, because I might need to start studying braille. 

I don't even remember what prompted our dispute, but as Lad and I drove home after looking at 3 out-of-price-range houses . . . two of which were begging to be knocked down and given a fresh start - words were spoken. I think the issue was me urging him to organize his stuff. I was willing to help. He likes to label me controlling, but trust me - his room looked like an application to star in hoarders-are-us. Controlling? Or am I a mom offering to help a disorganized son get his ACT TOGETHER? 

Let's remember that we've allowed him to live with us despite terrible habits and a DOG. I have control over nothing.

* the condo we planned to see was no longer available. I really wanted him to at least go to the area and check it out. The complex has ONE building that allows big dogs, because finding a place that'll take a dog over 50 lbs is near impossible. 

I'd had enough. When I gave up nap time and pulled Curly out of school to babysit so we could look at places and he continued to be unrealistic and snippy with me, I told him to get out by the weekend. He called Coach asking if that was legit. Coach told me I was being harsh. I disagreed. "Just letting go of the small piece of rope I've been clinging to. I can't do it anymore."

Get excited about a future post where I share the stuff Finn ruined while living here. 

We allowed Lad to continue to live with us so long as he agreed to see a doctor for ADD meds. Aunt Leprechaun shared with me in January that she felt Lad really only needed ADD meds. So simple? Except getting him to agree was another story. 

He claimed to have made the appointment at the doc Leprechaun suggested. The day of the appointment, I called him. WHERE ARE YOU? 

Lad:  SHOPPING AT NORDSTROM RACK. WHY?

Oops. He'd forgotten that he'd lied about an appointment. I knew he wasn't there, because I'd called the doctor's office to request that they have him sign a HIPPA release thingy while he was there for his appointment. They were like WHO? HE'S NOT A PATIENT HERE. 

I guess HIPPA doesn't apply if you aren't actually a patient. BUSTED. 

Coach and I were TICKED. Beyond ticked. We raised the bar. Now, in order to not have his crap thrown out into the yard -he'd have to attend an appointment with a different doctor Leprechaun suggested, turns out the initial doc didn't treat people Lad's age, AND Coach and I would be on the zoom appointment with him. 

That actually happened. Shock. Oh, and a few days before the appointment, Lad walked in the house:  SO MICHAEL (Lad's work buddy) SAYS HE TAKES ADD MEDS. HE'S LIKE WHY WOULDN'T YOU JUST TAKE THE MEDS? YOU'LL GET SO MUCH MORE STUFF DONE. DUDE, YOU'RE A DUMB ASS. I TAKE ADD MEDS. I CALL THEM MY SUPERMAN PILLS.

Poof. Just like that, Lad wanted to take ADD meds. Figured he'd sell more cars. He started digging through my cabinets looking for ADD meds left behind from Tank or Reg, when Reg was misdiagnosed with ADD. 

It took another month for Lad to complete the ADD forms for the doctor in order for her to prescribe the medication for him. A MONTH. I printed them. He filled them out, but they didn't send on his phone. Then they didn't send on his ipad. Then he realized he deleted them. I printed them again. He filled them out, and I scanned them into my computer and I sent them in. 

A guy in Michael's building typically stays at his girlfriend's place in the city, so he told Lad he'd sublet his condo to him for a mere $400/month - WITH FINN. The apartment is practically across the street from the dealership where Lad works. Lad moved in there mid-June. When I went into his room after he'd mostly moved out, I found that his reptile tanks had leaked. Despite the fact that my grandmother's antique dresser was covered in a glass top, moisture got underneath the glass. Tank's team photos, a 1st communion group photo, and Reg's little drawings that were displayed under the glass were mostly ruined. I spent a good deal of time scrubbing the carpet - reptile dirt? Or something.

Imagine my surprise when I went in the room and found this mess under the glass. He'd had a few of his MANY aquariums on the dresser. Others were in the closet. Under the bed. In the drawers. On the book shelves. 

It's been an exhausting process. It's our hope and prayer that he sticks with the meds and that they help him function on a day to day basis and that as a result he feels happier. 

Lad has a heart of gold and a great sense of humor. He is so loyal and caring. He is bright and hard working. 

Here's to starting to thrive now that he's the big 25.

Have you ever known someone who could be a future contestant on Hoarders? How has this housing market impacted you? Sold a property so fast? Can't get a bid in fast enough on something?  Ever dealt with a 'tenant' who left a trail of destruction?