12 Hours

Approximately 12 hours ago I was crawling into bed with another migraine. It was some time around midnight. Way past my bedtime for my 6am wake up call. I had just closed my eyes when I heard a very familiar sound...like rain, only indoors, accomanied by the swoosh of water rushing across my ceiling, then the additional tap...tap...tap. It was raining in my apartment again. But not my old apartment. The new one I had moved into just a week and a half ago with such high hopes for no leaks and no mold.

I sprung into action...grabbing towels and buckets, a system I have down pat and could do in my sleep, as I practically was. Some time around 1am the leak slowed to a drip and I crawled back into bed. I awoke to my alarm at 6am with migraine still in tow. I arrived at work and was greeted by a three year old who burst into tears and threw up on the floor.

Another Chrisemism

So I was enjoying a polite lunch conversation with my two little charges when a strange sound was heard coming from the direction of the three year old. I had a guess as to what the sound was, but I really wasn't sure. So I asked Chris if he had gas. Well actually, I asked him if he cut the cheese, because just about 30seconds earlier David had broken his Babybel cheese round in half and so I teased him that he had cut the cheese. I'm always very proper and polite with my charges. So anyway, I asked Chris if he cut the cheese, and Chris, always ready to one up anybody replies very frankly, "No, that's just my butt motor."

So if you're not laughing, then I guess you had to be there. It was pretty funny.

Apartment Hunting

On Wednesday I saw three apartments. All three terrified me in their own special way. Then I saw this commercial and could totally sympathize with this couple. Check it out.

http://platinumcommercialtruck.blogspot.com/2011/09/chevy-cruze-eco-apartment-hunt.html

I love this commercial, cause its actually true. The options out there are terrible.

I embark on another search this weekend. Wish me luck!

Can't Wait

I just can't wait till my nephew Will gets older!


That's the thought that popped into my head after three year old Christopher informed me over lunch conversation while wiggling in his seat, "I got the moves like Jagger. He wiggles his butt."
I could have squirted milk out my nose. Its moments like that that make three year olds so totally awesome.

I can't wait to hear what my nephew will tell me some day over lunch. Cool.

Home Sweet Home - Andco Style

I could tell you all about the three major floods and the several smaller ones, but its more fun to show you in a short picture book of my time with Andco Management.

This is my table after the 2nd flood.

This is my table after the Handyman with a five star rating did not fix it after 5 hrs of work. I think he went a little crazy sanding that one section. Don't you?

This is my chair after I had already wet vac-ed it after the first flood.
This is what the laundry room looks like during flood season. Oh, yeah, and they don't clean it up. Plus there is no cleaning person for this building - at all!

This is what the laundry room ceiling looks like all the time. Now I know why they "didn't have the keys" to the laundry room when I viewed the apartment.

This is the skylight they made for me after the second flood. Yep, its open right into my neighbor's bathroom too. Howdy neighbor! The drywall to the right is also soaked and about 5inches thick, but they didn't view that as a problem. That, the mold, or the rotten wood.

This is what my shower looked like every morning from the nasty stuff falling down.

I covered the skylight with an art cloth so I could shower in privacy - sort of. Until on my birthday I was showering and a guy started to clean out and cover the hole from the other side. I was naked in the shower with nothing but an art cloth between me and Maintenance Guy. Dry wall was falling on my shampooed head. I emailed Andco about this but got no response. Huh?

I paid a Water & Mold Guy $350 to check for moisture and mold in my apartment. Yep I had both. My bathroom wall was all wet. His Star Trek-like hand held device shot all the way to red. He said it was from the pipe to the right of the one they "fixed" having a steady leak down that wall. It all had to be opened, dried, and mold cleaned out. I emailed all this info to Andco and even offered to move out for a few days while they fixed the problem for good. How nice of me. I stayed at my wonderful employers' house while they were on vacation.

I went home to check on things though due to some trust issues I have with Chicago management companies. Sure enough, I found the guy there patching up the hole and painting all in one day. Job done. No need to dry out the additional wet walls or clean out any mold. Did I mention mold levels over 200 are bad? Mine is somewhere above 2,000!

I moved back in and was just returning my things to the bathroom when I heard the upstairs toilet flush. Then the sound of a rain storm with no thunder took place in my walls. Loud rushing above me and down the walls! Where was it going to come out!? I quickly moved my ruined table to the side that I had been scraping and varnishing in vain for two days! First it poured in the bathroom. I grabbed a bucket. Then it poured in the kitchen. I grabbed a bucket. Here let me show you....




This went on for 45minutes.

My light filled. I thought my ceiling would collapse. Look how full the light is with dirty water! At one point there was so much pressure it started squirting out the sides and spraying at my walls.
Oh, yeah, my neighbor upstairs, her ceiling did collapse!

Here is the water coming out of my kitchen light. It always comes out my light.

After yelling at me that this was not a plumbing issue, the maintenance guy told me I was lucky my ceiling didn't fall in too. I would be fine. it would all dry. ---My ceiling and walls were flooded for 45 minutes with pouring water. If that is not opened up it will not dry. My mold count is already a health hazard, and the walls weren't dry from the previous flood! But as he says, I'm lucky. I suppose as luck goes...this is the type I abound with.

As I moved all my furniture back into my bedroom, poor Fawny threw up. It was all too much for her. I felt the same way.

Mokey and Her Beloved Tub

Until now, I could only assume Mokey enjoyed her playtime "time-outs" in the bath tub. Lately she has been scratching at the gate which has lead me to believe she actually is trying to tell me she'd like to have tub time now. So this evening I picked her up and took her in there and placed her in the tub. As I went to drop the blanket in, she started hopping & squeeking - dooking all over the tub! I played with her with the blanket for a minute and then left her happily attacking the drain. Looks like this situation is working out for the best for both of us. :)

What Are Your Shoes For?

I often feel bad about the state of my shoes. When I enter someone's home I remove my shoes and place them near the collection of shoes from the other guests and those who live there. That's when I notice how worn and dirty mine look. I'm always embarrassed. Why do my shoes look so bad. I walk around the city just like everyone else, but mine look so much worse. I buy pretty decent shoes. Most of them aren't very old. I store them properly on a shelf, not on a crumpled pile of fellow dirty shoes. But my beloved shoes never fail to embarrass me at gatherings.

Recently, as many of you know, I had the privilege or reorganizing and relabeling 5, 500+ pictures my genius brother was able to recover for me. Thanks, bro! Anyway, during this two week long journey with many 18hr. days scrolling through photos and videos, I came across this video.




Then I didn't feel so bad about my shoes being more worn and dirty than everyone else's. Look what joy they bring!

Stop Digging!

So I got out the water basin for the ferrets to play with and put a few of the usual Easter eggs in it for added entertainment. Mokey chose to dig at the towel I placed under it. Why does she dig everything but the scratching pad I got for her? That she poops on. Ugh! This is a picture from a previous water play.

What's the Rest of the Story?

I seem to have a need for more details than most. Whenever someone tells me a story, I begin asking questions. "What was the Uncle's name?" "What happened to the dog?" "So what happened after that?" My questions are often greeted with that grimacing look and a snarky, "I don't know?" Then I know I've apparently asked inappropriate or unnecessary questions. I don't mean to be digging for minute details, these are questions that immediately pop into my mind from genuine interest that I feel are important to the story.

I was watching the news -briefly-this morning when this story came on. The newscaster tells of an 8 year old boy who was playing with friends in his front yard when he was shot in the stomach. He was taken to the hospital where the bullet was removed. He is expected to make a recovery. Then she moves to the next story. Are you satisfied with this information? Are you thinking, "What a good job that newscaster has done! I feel fully informed." Because I'm thinking, "Was there a gang fight that broke out down the street and this little boy got caught in the crossfire? Was it a drug trade gone bad?" I'm assuming the 8 year old wasn't shot purposefully by one of the friends he was playing with in the front yard over a game of marbles gone wrong. But I don't know, do I?! This news wasn't meant to inform the community on what type of violent crimes are occurring and why, or what social, economic, of family issues are involved in these frequently occurring situations in so arming the general public with the knowledge of their fellow violent citizens in order to have an intellectual conversation about what the real problems are and perhaps how to help.

No, all this newscast wants you to hear is "Eight year old shot!" They want an uninformed, enraged public response. An angry ignorant public is not ideal. But how much do we or can we care anymore hearing these quick flashes that say "killed, shot, died, child, teen, gang?" Are we not hardened to it? Do we not just file this story (or rather quick flash of limited information) into the category of "Another kid got shot on the Southside" or perhaps some people may hear "Another black kid shot another black kid." Could this newscast actually end up being filed as "Don't go to the Southside and I'll be fine."

Why was this little 8 year old shot? If you're going to tell a story, commit to it or don't bring it up. Watching the news is like when someone starts to tell you a story and then when your interest has peeked, they say, "Oh, nevermind."

Sleeping Arrangements

With my parents coming for a visit, I managed to have fresh sheets on the bed, plenty of pillows, and a tiny fold out couch for myself in the living room. Never did I imagine that Mokey would be the one who ended up needing rearranged sleeping quarters.

Exhausted, I put the girls to bed around midnight and planned on putting myself down immediately after. Mokey, however, had other plans. She wanted to play. When Mokey wants out of her cage she rattles the doors. It has the same effect on me as nails on a chalk board for most people. I actually think this action/sound has a direct link to my blood pressure. I let the Mokster out to play. And after running her ragged -or so I thought-I tucked her and myself in.

Some time around 2am Mokey decided she still wanted to play. Que intense shaking of the cage doors! I try laying really quietly like a kid who closes his eyes and thinks that no one can see him. Mokey proves smarter than a small child. She persists. I bring her out for another play. Then I return her to her cage with ferretone in her water dish and start to drift off to sleep...and..then..."SHAKE A SHAKE SHAKE!" I pass her a treat...pause...."SHAKE A SHAKE SHAKE!" I'm contemplating putting her in the bathtub at the exact moment my mom comes out of the bedroom and suggests, "Maybe we can put her in the bathtub?" (No one would ever doubt that the basis for my child rearing techniques stem from my mother.) Apparently I was not the only one Mokey had kept up for the past hour.

So in the tub she went!

I grabbed the Mokster, a blanket, and two toys. I tied the bathroom cabinet shut with some lace provided by Mom, plopped the noisemaker into the tub with her meager belongings and closed the door tight.

And everyone slept peacefully. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I used this method the next night around 3am, but implemented it with immediate response to the first "SHAKE!" with military speed and precision.

I am continuing to use this method during the night and once during one of Mokey's freak outs. (A "Mokey Freak Out" refers to when Mokey engages in very bad behavior, usually involving some kind of destruction via digging. When put in her cage to stop this behavior she goes crazy throwing a fit, upturning her toys, throwing things down the stairs, and pushing litter paper everywhere - yuk.)

Now she just gets the tub. She seems fine with it. I've never heard her digging at the door. She can get in and out of the tub and now I have a bucket in the bathroom with her sleeping and playing supplies. She seems to play outside the tub for awhile and then climb back in and snooze in her purple towel. She seems to enjoy the adventure during her bored/frustrated time, and I enjoy the peace and the lessening of the chest pains she frequently causes.

I don't think Mokey will ever grow into her name, being named after the kind, peace and friendship loving Fraggle, but I did notice in writing her nickname "Mokster" that it does resemble "Monster" at quick glance. Hmmmmm?

This is what I found the other day when I went to get Mokey out of the bathroom. She had gotten creative.

Mokey sleeping in the trash can

The Old Maid.....And The Young Boy

Anyone who has ever played me in a game of Old Maid knows I always loose. I told my nanny friend Melissa this once and she didn't believe me.....at first. We frequently took our group of charges down to the coffee house on the corner where we all indulged in delicious treats over games and card playing. Time after time I lost at Old Maid. She soon believed me and succumbed to my claim of perpetual bad luck.

I remember loosing at the game since I was a child. I guess I should have seen it coming. Perhaps the Old Maid cards are more like Tarot cards for me.

Flash forward to today. I was with my favorite boys, David and Chris, looking for some games to play together. First was Crazy Eights, which Chris won. Then came Old Maid. "Oh, no, the game I always loose!" I cried. David laughed and asked why I always loose Old Maid. I didn't want to tell him that I believe I'm cursed, so I told him I didn't know, just luck I guessed.

So we sat down to play. David announced, after I dealt the cards, that he just got some bad luck. Clearly letting us all know who had the Old Maid card. But that's what its like to play cards with children. Chris didn't hold back either; laying all his cards on the table face up to search for his pairs. Surprisingly, David seemed happy to have the Old Maid card.

We played the game. Me picking from David's hand. He held onto that Old Maid. Keeping it in the same place, right in front of his stack. Closest to him and furthest from me. I could see him doing this so I asked him to fan them out...then to shuffle them. But I could tell he wanted to hold on to that card.

Chris won, again, and then it was down to David and me. And I couldn't believe it, but I didn't loose. I was not the Old Maid. I didn't want David to feel bad so I quickly teased him that he was an old lady. He laughed and said "Yeah, but at least you didn't loose! I turned your luck from (shows thumbs down) to (shows thumbs up)." I thanked him and gave him a big hug.

Maybe I was always the Old Maid because I didn't want anyone else to feel sad about loosing or being the Old Maid. I chose it out of their hands so I could see the relief in their eyes when they knew they were saved from being the Old Maid. And now David did it for me, just so I wouldn't be the looser, and would perhaps get my luck turned around.

This is Baby M

This is about as good as it gets with a 4month old. Hours of this mixed with feeding and crying. (And in my case, one dog insisting on a never ending belly rub and another dog plotting my demise.)

Belly Rub

Demise

Too Sleepy to Function

I was really tired this weekend. And things were worse this morning as I headed off to work. I was tired to the point of stupidity. I'm sure the Benadryl, or rather Waldryl, I took to put a stop to my constantly running nose and unstoppable sneezing didn't help perk matters up. When the baby and I arrived at his morning toddler class, I walked up to the door of the center and took my keys out of my pocket. Yeah, did you get that? I'm supposed to ring the buzzer to get in. I don't have keys.

There was a woman right behind me who saw the whole thing. She just laughed. Anyone who has or works with children automatically excuses this type of behavior. If it wasn't a cold, it could just as easily have been caused by "baby brain." (A condition that occurs from spending too much time with little ones, ultimately resulting in your brain turning to mush which significantly reduces your ability to maintain an adult conversation, remember why you are where you are, what you were just about to do, and other such things.

I used to be able to write messages with numbers on a beeper.

How uncool am I now? I just had to look to Google to interpret a text from a mother of three.

Spring is in the Air

Spring is in the air.
The snow is melting.
There was a spider in my bathroom.
I did not need a scarf today.
I followed a rat down the sidewalk on the way home from pilates.
Can't wait for this guy to come back.....


Had lots of these last year. They crawl on the walls and ceiling too. Eww.

Mokey Pood on My Bed

So last night we were all having our after work play time. I was catching up on missed tv shows on the computer and the girls were wrestling on my bed. All of a sudden I heard a squeak. Not the dooking squeak but the "ouch" squeak. I gave my usual response of yelling, "Girls!" That's usually sufficient enough to break up the wrestling into a run and chase.

But this time I heard nothing. No more squeaks, no running, nobody jumping down from the bed. Just like if you have children, you know a sudden silence means something sinister is going on. So I pause Modern Family, and go into my room.

I immediately see two ferrets and a pile of poo on my quilt. Fawn is in her usual nonchalant stance. She looks at me as I enter then saunters toward the poop, sniffs it, and returns a look to me. I'm pretty sure if I were in fact dealing with kids, Fawn would be the tattle tail. She always seems to be around mayhem with this look of "Look Mom, look what she did. I didn't do it, but she did."

Poor Mokey is sadly in her usual stance - when she has done something wrong, or more broadly, when she is terrified. Mokey is frozen like a deer in headlights. This stance tells me she did it (I figured anyway) and that she knows its a bad thing. I don't know what Mokey experienced before she came here, but I know it was bad. Sometimes I wonder to what extreme due to her behavior and the fact that her fears are still so strong after a whole abuse free year here at Disney a la Ferret.

Anyway, she's in complete statue mode. I check to see how bad by using one finger to touch the top of her head. She doesn't move, doesn't flinch, its as if this action isn't taking place. I move the nosy Fawn onto the floor and say to Mokey a few words in my deep serious voice. Yes, I still disciplined her. I liked that she looked at me and listened while I told her no pooping on mommy's bed. She wasn't afraid of me while I disciplined her. This shows how far we've come!

In the past she would have hid under the couch for hours and I would have had to pretend to be asleep in the other room before she'd ever show herself again. Then I'd have to catch her and she'd bit me -those good horribly painful break-the-skin bites. Anyway, after a few words I put her on the floor and began cleaning up my comforter. The ferrets hovered around on the floor. After all was cleaned up, Mokey came right up to my feet for attention. Now we're getting to some normalcy. You can do bad things, I will discipline you, and then it goes back to everybody loves each other. And most importantly, nobody gets hurt here. I tell Mokey that all the time.

She still has a few episodes now and then. Just this past month it happened two times, that I moved while she was playing which caught her off guard and she was scrambling under the couch and refusing to come out.

Baby steps....Baby steps

Snowstorm 2011

Otherwise known as "a storm of epic proportions" and a "thundersnow."

My street

This storm brought with it the usual school closings, power outages, and loss of cable and internet. Some of the more interesting characteristics is that we have -so far- reached number 3 on the Chicago's Biggest Snowstorm list with 20inches. We still have about 1 hour of heavy snowfall left.

Snow drifts cover the Church steps

The best part has been that I've experienced my first thundersnow! It was amazing. At first I thought it was the L or a truck rumbling, but it was a thundersnow! About an hour later lightening was added.

Lakeshore drive suddenly became overwhelmed with snow, and two accidents which brought full traffic to a complete standstill. It took up to 7 hours for security to evacuate everyone out of the cars on mopeds. The footage looks like that -was it a Steven King movie - where most everyone died and a few people were walking around and all the cars were just sitting there in the streets. This happened at about 4:30. It started snowing at 2:00. That's how fast the snow came down. Everyone started scrambling home once it hit. I was walking home at 3:00 being pelted in the eyes by 50mile an hour snow pellets and occasionally being blown off course. Take a look at this car outside my apartment.


Last night I heard the sound of a stuck car trying to move through the snow. I had to get up and peek. I figured someone was trying to pull out of a parking spot that had been plowed in. Nope, this idiot was just trying to drive down my unplowed side street. He was stuck, rocking back and forth, in the middle of the road. (Not the car in the photo, that's parked.)

Another fun snow fact is that the snow drifts have actually reached up to 7feet! I ventured outside a little bit ago. I had to see it, and preferably before later tonight when it may reach as low as 30below with the windchill. Now we are comfortably in the teens. Although there was still pelting going on and I'm no fan of being pelted in the face whether its snow, rain, or dirt kicked up by the wind, so it was a short venture. I started by venturing out the back door.


My two bottom steps were covered. When I stepped off onto the sidewalk, I sunk all the way down to my thigh! My knee high boots fell a little short of the job.

You can't even see my boot down there.

I hiked through my building ally out to the street ally.

This is the street ally. You can see that the snow comes halfway up some garages.


I walked up against the apartment buildings on the side of another huge drift, just short of my waist to the main road that had been plowed. I snapped some shots, took some videos, and reached my limit for adventure and headed back. I went in the front door this time, choosing to pass on wading through another snow drift.

This is what was once my sidewalk.

Some people have been seen out on skis, gliding down the plowed streets. About 60,000 people are without power, and many without cable or internet (like my brother and sister-in-law who are working from Starbucks.). Luckily I am sitting in my well heated apartment, lights on, television informing, and typing away on my blog, and enjoying the day off :)

Oh, yeah, visibility. At one point this morning, visibility at Midway airport was .o6 miles or one sixteenth of a mile. That's what we call a white-out!

Another interesting snow issue we've encountered is that there is too much snow to plow out of the way, aside from it just blowing back onto the roads and still falling, they may have to bring in melters to melt it down to make more room. Who knew they had melters for situations like this?

Reports coming in from the western suburbs say that the sky has cleared to a point where the sun can be seen. Repeat, the sun has been spotted in the suburbs. This storm has an end. It appears we will hold the #3 spot for Chicago's Biggest Snowstorms.

Ahh, the memories

Fawn the Flying Ferret

So I come home today to find it is the day Comcast went digital. My tv is the first thing I go to when I come home -yes even before the ferrets get let out. I think the tv announces my presents to them. Anyway, my tv says something along the lines of "If you can see this message, your tv has not been prepared for Comcast's awesome digitalness. Call 1-888-some-thing." Now I had the DTA or Digital Transport Adapter, but hadn't hooked it up. I couldn't figure out why I needed it since I have a brand new HD tv. Why did I have to buy that if I need converters-oh, well, I guess transmitters, anyway? Well, my brother insisted I shouldn't need anything either, so I said I'd wait and see what happened. Looking back that was not the best choice I've ever made, considering I start to get the shakes within minutes of being home and not having the tv on. Has nothing to do with watching it or not. It must be on at all times if I am awake!

So I set to work hooking it up, trying to remain calm as invisible psychologically induced spiders are crawling up my back and I'm beginning to twitch slightly. All is hooked up and for the final step I must call a Comcast machine to activate me. I do this and now I have one channel. My one channel is in analog and its the Chicago Works station. This type of programing does not calm the psychotic creepy crawlies. Meanwhile my brother, who I can only assume is trying to defuse the situation, is sending me comically inspired texts. My family jokes during times of crisis. It helps me when I'm sad. Not when I'm mad!

So where does a flying ferret come into all of this? I have to call Comcast again - who is experiencing a high volume of calls - Really? Not surprising. Anyway, the lady is talking me through some vital steps. Fawn starts biting my ankles. I keep moving away, lifting up victim legs intermittently. I sit on the ottoman, lifting legs, pushing Fawn away, all while trying to focus and follow instructions. Now I'm trying to do the thing where you aim the remote at the tv and wait for the flashing light and then press a series of numbers. Fawn will have no more of being ignored! She climbs up on top of her toy trunk and jumps! Through the air and lands clinging to my hand - with remote! She doesn't fall. I have to remove her. Once in a life time - America's Funniest Home Videos, right? Wrong. She continues to do this leap through the air, land clinging to my hand several more times.

I never got the remote programmed. Now I use two remotes for different jobs aimed at different devices. Great! The one thing Fawn goes feral for is the remote. Now I need to keep two of them away from her. Welcome to the future where everything is more complicated, more expensive, breaks sooner, and provides poorer quality. Oh, and the program still doesn't fill my screen! Its all still square! Can I return this tv and declare shenanigans?

I'm Still a VIRGO!

Whew!

Its Just a Game

When I was a kid you could say pretty much anything except bad words. These bad words consisted only of cuss words. We could run around teasingly calling each other retards, or tards for short. And everyone loved the midgets on Wizard of Oz. The worst, most embarrassing thing a kid could do when I was little was to yell out in the grocery store or bank, "Hey Mommy, that lady is fat!"

Now kids are expected to not only omit the cuss words, but all the bad words, which now include every word that can possibly be offensive to any group of people anywhere on the planet. Yes, tard is definitely out. Thanks to pollitically correct cartoons, kids as young as two are aware of physical differences, familiar with the look of wheel chairs, and aware that disabilities are just one more thing that makes a person special.

When I was little I played a card game called Old Maid. Sure, kids still play that today, but a different version. However, the original version is still sold. I played this card game with a group of kids and a fellow nanny friend in a coffee shop a while ago. In case you have forgotten, this deck on politically incorrect Old Maid includes the lovable characters of Midget Man - and to equally represent the sexes - Midget Lady, there's Fat Lady - the one you're not supposed to yell out about while in line at the bank - and to make her feel worse, there's Thin Man. Not to be forgotten are the Animal Rummy characters of Sassy Squirrel and his friend Gay Dog.

If this doesn't sound bad to you, try naming them to a two year old as he brings each card to you and asks you, "What's this?" You - "Oh Honey, that's a Fat Lady and a Midget Man." Even a small child knows not to call someone fat. And you don't want the other patrons in the coffee house to overhear you explaining what midget means to the newest generation. This word has also joined the new list of bad words along with retard and fat. "What's a gay dog?" That's a question better left to an episode of South Park.

My favorite old beloved childhood story changed to a politically correct version is Larry The Cable Guy's version of "Little Red Riding Hood." Watch it here /www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0PZ31SF7rY The video continues on after the story, I don't know why, with some alphabet burping, which I am not a fan of.