March 2019
Saturday-Late Afternoon
Well, it’s still better than my first 24 hours of Boot Camp or working on the fishing processor.
(Author’s Note: See earlier email)
Wendi is midpoint through her 4th trip to the Ranch since NY’sEve. Xander and I are on our 2nd. Slackers.
But we wanted to be there at The End so we made the trip yesterday. The trip did not have an auspicious start.
Friday morning, I woke up late with a nasty cough. And a son lying in bed on his phone. Not packed. Chores undone.
So, Dad Weekend Explosion #1.
The trip was dull. We missed the Kingston Ferry by one car. (mutter, mutter) There wasn’t any hurry; it’s just the principle of the thing. Had SOMEBODY taken care of the dishes with a bit more alacrity, we would’ve make the 9:40. Just saying.
When we got to Winthrop, we swung by Winthrop River Run Lodge, where a month or so ago, Wendi rented a room for $300 so we’d have somewhere to stay. ‘Cause the Ranch would be empty. ‘Cause Tina’s moving. (Have I mentioned that before?)
But, since even a partially denuded Ranch House is better than some motel, we’re here at the Ranch. Actually writing this in the T.V. Room:
(You’ll need to use your imagination a bit here.)
And since we paid for the room so long ago, and the refund window closed at the beginning of the month, Room 18 is legally mine till tomorrow at 10:00. So we stopped by, got the keys and christened my temporary home by dropping Massive Anchor. Used lots of toilet paper so as to get my money’s worth. Very nice. 2-ply and everything. I’ll be sure to include this in my Expedia review.
After this little 7 minute interlude (possibly the most expensive bowel movement of my life; at least I pray to God this is so.). It was time to stop dithering.
When X and I walked through the front door, the tension was....very tense. The past couple of days had been very hard on the Heath Women. Here’s the rundown.
1) Tina is not emotionally ready to leave this place. For the past 35 years, she has been the Grande Dame of the Big Valley Ranch. This has been her identity. Part of such an identity included being in control. Control of pretty much everything around her (‘ceptin’ maybe her daughters).
2) The memory loss is getting worse. Ditto some behavioral changes. For the past, well, forever, we kept thinking (hoping really) that it was the stress of “A”, then “B”, and what about “C” and now most likely “D” and so are on. But she keeps telling us the same things over and over along with constantly checking on what Wendi was working on. Wendi was working on what they had agreed to earlier that morning.
3) Parts A and B meant Tina was constantly checking on Wendi’s progress and more often than not, criticizing her work. It also meant Tina wanted to explain the history of
Every
Single
Item
going into a box.
News flash! The movers arrive this Thursday. Correction! They already showed up last Thursday in order to move the rosewood table in storage up at the shop.(You know, the one she promised to Gregg a couple months back.) However, the A-Team got their moving truck on the road up to said shop and then spent the rest of the day (along with Albertano’s help) getting unstuck. Then they went home to Wenatchee.
So yeah, that went really really well.
At this point, Tina seriously considered cancelling next Wednesday’s moving crew. Granted, Moronic Movers LLC. didn’t really inspire a whole lot of confidence but she had no backup plan so...you know.. WTF?
Wendi talked her off that ledge but the following day (Friday) also stunk. While X and I were taking our sweet-ass time driving over mountains, Wendi met her breaking point. Tina accused her one dutiful daughter of being sneaky and trying to steal things. What things? What items could bring on such a serious allegation? Not her jewelry nor her art. Nope, she accused Wendi of trying to steal her trash.
Her trash.
Because when you have items which are no longer useful, wanted by no one, and will only be a burden to those you inflict it upon; you have trash.
Here’s an example.
Above are the partial desiccated remains of 2 or 3 games from maybe the Carter Administration. The little note in the upper right corner? “Albertano, want any of this?”
No, he wouldn’t, Tina. Nobody wants this; therefore it is trash.
And yet, she spent a ridiculous amount of time gathering multiple nuggets of rubbish (“nuggish”? “Ruggets”?) into one larger pile of dreck on the off chance that Albertano has an extremely well hidden hoarding addiction.
He doesn’t.
And Wendi’s reasonable reaction to this fact is to just throw it out. Throw it all out. Tina won’t hear of it. A veritable stab in the back. King Lear had more devoted daughters. Lizzie Borden was more dutiful.
So Wendi got kinda sick of this. Especially with all Tina’s friends stopping by, doing a modicum of work, commenting on How Very Much remained to do only to met with Tina’s strong assurance that “The moving company will take care of it all on Wednesday.”
Uh...This is the same crew: just two guys, who managed to spend all day last Thursday being stuck in the mud? THAT elite Band of (Boned-Headed) Brothers?
So that was really tense. Wendi was ready to just leave.
And then the Hardy Boys showed up! All sparkles and sunshine. Through hard work and a pathologically positive in the face of all reality , I was able to prepare dinner from the various left overs still in the house.
They were able to eat it the same way.
Last night, we all turned in early. I spent my evening listening to both Heath Lady’s troubles though most of my time was spent with the wife. Where she listed her many, many grievances. Many but not all directed at her mom. Plenty of grievance to go around. Here, have a bag’s worth of your very own.
And all this on her birthday, no less.
And with another cold sore coming back.
Were her imaginary Ford F-150 to crash, she’ll have all the makings of a C&W song.
Well, this Jeremiad has turned into quite the monster. Don’t want to write anymore. Just want watch the make-believe TV and sleep. The latter mostly Can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll just leave you with the mildly uplifting fact that Tina apologized to Wendi this morning. And Albertano, Xander, and I took some stuff to storage today. Yea! Progress made.
We also saw Tutu’s new Condo but that riveting story will wait for another day.
Tune in Next Time!
Goodnight!!
Part 3
Xander and I have gotten home. Despite suggestions from both yours truly and Tina, Wendi is there at least a couple more days. Tina’s gonna get moved before the Sackville-Baggins take possession on Saturday no matter what. Sure, Albertano could pack, ship and unpack every single item by Wednesday; that would have suited Tina just fine but Wendi will do a better job than the guy who already has 2.5 full-time jobs.. Besides, somebody needs to be around to tell Tina when she’s being a moron. The only other possible candidate is cheesed off at her mother for giving away “her” Ranch truck. She’s sitting this move out.
Here are a couple/three anecdotes that pretty much sum up the weekend. The first details the brilliant idea that didn’t happen.
1) You know how we rented a motel room and then decided not use it? Well, I had this glorious plan to find the Lamest Object(s) Possible to leave in the hotel room. This object, along with the room’s immaculate condition, might spark a new Valley Legend. An empty can chicken broth. A 2’ stack of post-its. An spotless ash tray. A single cowboy boot. A bag of paper clips. There were scores of possibilities in the “Up For Grabs” pile.
Well, ran out of time this morning. I’ll just have to take comfort in the strange look I got when dropping off the room keys.
B) Saturday morning, family friend Susan came over to pick up the recycling and to check in with Tina. Sitting in the Living Room, enjoying their coffee.
Susan: You know, Tina, you’ll need to get a garbage can.
Tina: Oh, hadn’t thought about that.
Wendi: (Internal cackling)
C) Saturday late afternoon. Everyone decides to move some clothes to the new house. There is some heated discussion over how much to take to the condo and what all to put into storage. (Which is literally just across the road from the condo.) Tina wins the argument that she’ll need both her Winter and Spring Wardrobes at hand. (Author’s Note: When the Top 10% refers to “(season)+Wardrobe”, us Common Folk should just translate that as “clothes”.)
D) Wendi is very much in the “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll care of it.” stage of moving. This led to me dragging Harold’s very old, very heavy sound system out to Wendi’s Honda Fit. At this point, I was very much behind schedule and very much hating Harold’s stereo system so I wasn’t being too careful. We were just going to chuck it all once out of sight. So, the tuner, and CD player were tossed into the back of the car. The speakers were a different matter. 20? 30? pounds each and I loathed every ounce. To show my distaste, I picked up the first speaker by the power cord and started moving it haphazardly to the back of Wendi’s car.
Which would have been fine if it had been a permanent power cord. It wasn’t. And in 1/4 second, I focused my superhuman abilities on not having the %#€¥ing thing crush my foot. Mission accomplished!
Sadly or Delightfully (your call), during the same microsecond, my right hand suddenly found itself. It holding up heavy-ass piece of 70s Era sound equipment. They’re called Newtons Laws; not suggestions.
Long story less long: I punched myself in the face.
Ah, good times.
E) This facial assault based levity was just what we needed. Earlier, we actually went up to the condo to drop off the above mentioned wardrobes. (AKA: duds) The condo was...nice. But, it sure wasn’t The Ranch. (Yes, yes, I know. What is?) It was just an ordinary duplex. For an ordinary grandma.
I could see X- an having a hard time not breaking down. Tutu really didn’t need that so I just took him home post-haste.
Home.
Parked in the dark; we wiped away tears. I told him he could grieve all he wanted. But not in front of Tutu. Better a broken toe or self-inflicted upper cut than adding to his grandmother’s distress. He knew.
F) And our last family interaction before heading back to Silverdale. Well, Xander had one final small box to shove into the back of the extremely full CR-V.
(Not in any way) Shockingly, Tina followed him out and actually started looking into the CR-V! The automotive equivalent to all the “farms in the country” where all the bitey dogs go to. Wendi appeared as if by teleportation (always her superpower of choice) in between the mom and the car. Somehow, she gave the appearance of 5-foot tall daughter, blocking Tina’s view and said in a loud, commanding voice (AKA: her voice) that she would finish the arduous task of shoving that box in the final 3 inches. Nothing to see here. Move along.
Sadly, what was blocking Wendi’s attempts at subterfuge was all the BValley firewood I’d jammed into every little nook and cranny.
“Really?! Firewood??”
Not the best time for a reasonable explanation so I fell back on the old tried and true: stupid grim followed by a guilty shrug. Works every time.
There you have it; a 5 second drama with cluelessness, deception, snooping, greed, all culminationing in everyone present annoying the hell out of Mrs. Hardy.
Discretion, valor all that.. No time for mopey goodbyes. We got the hell out of there. At the end of the driveway, I parked, took my last photo of the Big Valley Ranch. After that, I got back into the car, and drove back to the nice-okay world.
BTH
