The care and feeding of my basement.

Recently as in yesterday, I was doing something that took me back to the good old days........Get your mind out of the gutter yet again perv. I was sucking water out of our basement. It reminded me of a time about 5 years ago when we brought home our last little sweet smelling bundle of joy who needed to be fed and changed every two hours. Now what pray tell could a flooded basement have to do with a baby. Not much really other than the two hour care and chaining the responsible adult to the house but, Lets look at this a little closer and maybe it will make sense to you too. The babies were not unexpected and the basement was. I would never flood the basement, no matter how much my family might joke about wanting an indoor pool. Indoor pools and raised ranches don't talk at the same water coolers. (get it water.....ah anyway) Babies once you took care of them would sleep for two hours not seep. A small bath towel and Johnson's baby wash and any baby mess no matter how brown would be cleaned up and sweet smelling at least for a short time. A basement well other tools are needed, a High powered Sucks all and every bath towel or unused blanket in the house. Need to take a shower with a baby....leave the bouncy seat in the room with you. Flood in the basement, Leave a kid down there to yell if it starts toward the furnace. (just kidding I wouldn't use kids like that).....but they do come in handy for other things like answering phones and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while Mommy and Daddy are busy. When stuff so vile that you vomit in your mouth comes out of a baby you can look at it and think "Wow, My kid is healthy" Your basement that is not healthy and it isn't your vomit you have in your mouth but your wallet clenched between your teeth because there is someone some where with their hands in your pockets with ways to "fix" this mess before it goes to mold. Now lastly, I don't know one kid or one basement that once the sun comes out and the windows are thrown wide doesn't start to perk up and have a much sunnier disposition.

The Veiw from 40

I have had the same conversation with many people lately. How to rectify the differences between what you envisioned for your life and what your life really is. Perhaps it is because I was 40 first? (lucky me) or maybe it was just that I had to come to terms years ago that I was never going to be what people expected of me. It is a bitter pill to look around and realize that world domination was not an option, my poor wasted Napoleon complex. It was cool to dream but, living it was a different matter. The Ah-ha moment was back in my 30's. I had only been married for a few years when I found that an acquaintance was teaching at an art college(my then dream job) and she had just been promoted to dean of one of the departments. She was someone I felt at least equal to (at least). I then stopped creating for the fun of it and set off to work to be the "Artist" I was supposed to be with my "talent". It felt like wearing a suit that just wasn't mine the pants were too short and the shirt never buttoned right. I could wear it but sooner or later the pants were going to fall down and everyone would see my undies. I was a fake and the work that I did from that time was fake as well. Which leads me to the JOY of being 40. (Feeling a little like a snake oil salesman) Yes my friends Joy! and I am here to tell you how to get it....for only 39.99.
By the time I reached 39 two things happened 1. my children were finally old enough that I could see beyond being a Mommy 24-7. (thank you sweetheart for putting up with me during that time) and 2. I stopped caring what people thought of me. A friend explained it like this. She said " I am old enough that I have my friends already, Those who like me like me. Those who don't I have no time for."(thank you Kim!) Wow, what a concept. I was just given permission to be me. Those who like me like me those who don't, oh well. 40 wow.
So, this all leads back to the conversations of friends who are now slogging through the - what the hell happened to my life moment. The big thing about 40 is there is still time. My head didn't explode on the stoke of 12:00. The carriage was still waiting and I could still get the dress on. What's more my idea of what is success changed to include my family, who run through me like grain in wood. The young rather more selfish me always thought that success should be global (with bwahahaha laughed in the background) Success with a capital S, yeah baby, but when the the real work, sacrifice and passion was needed to achieve that came knocking on my door I didn't answer. I put all that energy towards other things, and the liberty of 40 is, that I am not going to tell people that I didn't answer because I didn't hear it or I was changing diapers or my dog ate the painting that was going to get that door open. There is no shame in viewing success as I see fit and not allowing others to force me into a suit I didn't cut for myself. Success is not an off the rack item. 40 means I can say without reservation that I opened the door and kept just a little piece and that was all I needed.

Lube and Adjustment (thats what they call it these days)

Ah ha.....I know what your thinking......yes I do.....well OK maybe I don't but if I had just read the title of my blog I would have been thinking things that were not PG or even PG 13. Dirty minds are a terrible thing to waste. The problem with where my mind usually is, is it doesn't correspond with actual circumstances. Too bad huh, but on a good note I can tell you with no reservation that should you need any sort of body work done for you car I have found a place you can go. Yes it is true. I felt comfortable and it didn't cost me all the winnings I just collected from my jaunt at the casino. (That is an inside joke, I don't gamble too stingy). We (the Ramthun Clan)were having an issue with our minivans automatic doors closing. I am not partial to losing children on the interstate during hairpin turns so I felt it might be wise to have it checked out. The "Dealer" suggested I make an appointment for Friday to have them diagnose the issue. It should take about an hour and a half, and they could order parts if needed, "It would be best to leave the car for the day" they said. I could then stick my neck in the door track as they closed it neatly lopping off my head guillotine style in order to pay for all the work that would be needed. (no arm and legs that is small time) The fee before parts was $98.00 an hour flat rate fee to diagnose. So dear friends not having 98.00 to start never mind after diagnosis I, in desperation called the first body shop I can remember ever hearing about.
Drum Roll Please.................Don Mallon Chevrolet * Cadillac............Yes....I love them. (And I don't love easily) I called and a car angel answered, laughed at my very feeble jokes and told me to come right down. "Don't worry" Shelly said "We will fix you right up" I love having someone else do the mothering so I did what I was told. Shelly Brockett is the Body Shop Manager. She had explained to the gentleman working in the shop what I had called about and there was someone waiting for me when I drove up. Half an hour later the car was ready and the bill was less than $30.00. I was impressed enough to write this. If you happen to be driving by Don Mallon's on rte 32 in Norwich on your way to here or there please stop in and say "Hi" to Shelly in the body shop for me. You'll know her by her leopard print vans. It takes a cool chick to carry those off and she does it with flair.