Blog-A- Rama

YES! We are still at the laundromat. Any more questions? I refer you to Maytag, and the class action....... It's still hot out there. . . in kitty land. It's hot everywhere. So, this horridly hot weekend, I went to the 'blogosphere.' It was like stepping into a room with many doors, and each door leads to a room with more doors, and more, and more. Like some sort of Harry Potterish room of magic.

I only usually visit a few websites:

Pioneer Woman, where I go to find recipes with butter for PPP and her baking frenzy, and Fatty, where I revel in the fact that I am neither hurtling down steep and rocky hills on a bicycle nor trying to climb steep and rocky hills on a bicycle (it's really the wonderfully pure yet wry writing.) But no more! My blog world is wide now.

This is an important aside.... someone, maybe even me, must come up with a better word than BLOG. It's so close to blob, backlog, blah...no appealing words.

I did this blog-0- discovery tour by simply clicking on "next blog" at the top of many blogs. Multi-lingual is good for a "next blog" tour (I got THIS, shockingly, just now). Not so many blogs are in English. There are lots and lots of blogs in Brazilian Portuguese, and many in Spanish. A whole lot appear to be German, but could also be Norwegian or Danish. And then a boatload in alternate-letter languages. Wait until you read this whole thing. . . OK, you can skim. Then.....next blog, next blog....

Lovely comments on what I have written began to appear, from people I don't know. I thought I knew who exactly reads this thing. My sister. But evidently, people were finding out about our fascination with luminaria, or our sunglasses, randomly, or when I happen to comment somewhere. I tell you what, I sometimes wonder how I find my...let me rephrase that in a more appropriate way... It seems at times that I am as dumb as a brick.

While busy reading random blogs, I found this group, which is like hitting girl-blog gold. When BigD asked me if I was 'blogging' I would just say 'yes' and keep my head down. . . for several days. I do have some hints for bloggers. because some of you think this thing is private. It's not your little pink diary that you lock and stuff under your mattress. Anyone can read it. Your blog is not private.

• When you hit the words "Publish Post" anyone in the whole world can read it, IF they know our letter system. Probably not in France though, I didn't find many in French.



• The BLOGOSPHERE is not private. People forward them to others. Go ahead, try it. There is a little envelope somewhere that you can click on - and send the hilarity on to someone else. I know this because BigD loves to forward. So, all those details about the diaper explosion on the 4th...not so much, thanks though.
  


• You may think you are just "posting pix" of the grandkids for your parents in Idaho to see. Incorrect. The WHOLE WORLD can look and read. Your child will grow up, and will NOT be happy at the record you left out there for all the world to see at any time.



• When you say things like "Goo-mimi and Big Poop want to see you pull up your big boy pants" (complete with sequential pictures) probably Big Poop hopes that the guy who works in the cube next to him isn't privvy to that pet name.

So, what ELSE is out there? Lots and lots of scrapbookers and crafters and home decorators and writers. Lots. Apparently, the scrapbook folks also make blog templates, because many blogs look like scrapbook pages. It's awesome, in a voyeuristic way. I couldn't even BEGIN to find my favorite scrapbook blog, because I only have scrapbook kits and supplies that I have bought and then lost. Somewhere.

Somehow, once, I discovered young women who make hand-sewn crafts in England. It was so cool, but I lost them. I have spent a few hours looking for them again. How were they so easy to find once, but lost now?

There are a whole slew of medical blogs. I located them because of Midwife with a Knife, (it's the name) Her rant on the wicked hours residents work? I agree, wholeheartedly. Somebody fix that please.

Lots and lots and lots and lots of people chronicle every instant of baby's life from the pregnancy test forward. I love you all, each and every one of you, baby people. I taught Lamaze Childbirth Preparation classes for 15 years, I am a professional lactator and lactation support person. I've been a doula. I was all up in those babies (not this linked - one specifically, let's be clear ) Literally - like in there with ladies having babies, and getting that first latch-on. (Enough graphic birth talk, my Young Son will be uncomfortable) My babies aren't babies anymore, and don't tolerate much graphic talk.

Where is this going? you ask. And rightfully so. I opened this magical blog door and fell into a world of blogging parents of babies born with heart defects. I cannot, as of today, find my way out. I follow links from one family to another, to another, to another. I am absolutely fascinated by all of the medical-ish-ness of it. Not the creepy stalker like stuff (I don't know who or where these precious families are - other than Salt Lake City ). I know about the Glenn, about cardiac perfusion, sats, stats, minute to minute. And, I am cheerfully reporting, I have woken up intermittently in the night for the past few nights, worrying about these babies and their families. I wake up and find my self praying for little baby sweet-pea and whether they got the line in. Seriously, I need a life. And you'll have to find the little heart babies on your own.And, I am getting one - my own medical-ish life, I mean. The Sophisticate has had a big tummy ache for a few weeks or perhaps months now, (I know it doesn't LOOK that way, but trust me on this...since I am going to 'publish post') We are spending a very early morning investigating, while she wears a paper gown that she made into a little blue paper dress with a sash - tied in a bow. I'll bet I can find a blog about it.

Still Sudsy at the LAUN-DRO-MAT

Well, here we are 30 days later and we are still at the laundromat. It's not necessary to belabor the whole issue with my 4 year old MAYTAG top of the line, thousand dollar, Neptune washing machine, which is terminally broken. There's already been a class action lawsuit about this washer, but it's over now. No more claims. But let's not talk about that, it's so very, very sad. And I am so very, very, very mad.

I love the laundromat - I love the smells, and I love the people, and I love the speed. We are completely done, washed, dried and folded in less than an hour and a half. And there are so many fun things to see and do at the laundromat. We know this, because we are spending about 2 afternoons a week there.

It's a warm and bright and happy place. The west facing windows let the brutal summer sun to bear down on the already blazing hot laundromat - no, let's see - the beautiful rays of the sun gloriously shining from the west make the top of the washers an ideal place to grow houseplants. And so let's see how they grow in that warm, bright, moist environment.

This plant is big ....and lush...and has hairy things all over the leaves. Wait, it's lint. The leaves and stems and even the dirt are covered with lint.And this plant, in its natural state is purple. This version is not only covered with lint, but that new growth, back near the pot, it's just made some sort of mutation to accommodate the laundry...no longer purple, rather a pink spotted version of this purple plant. Trust me, it doesn't look right. It looks very, very ...not right.

We have our laundromat routine down to a science. No matter how many loads we have, no matter how many sheets and towels, comforters, dirty socks...not matter how much, it will take us 1 hour and 20 - 30 minutes.

Because we use as many washers and dryers as it takes to finish in that time - about 8 or 9 of those mega size things. Which MAY mean that other people in the laundromat are waiting. . . but they won't wait long, because it's all about speed for us. I have raced a woman to a dryer before. The first time, I felt guilty and let her have it. No more. No pity in the laundromat.

BigB, our elder son, doesn't like for his shirts to go into the dryer, since they heat up to about 493 degrees. thus shrinking the shirts to a size that might fit a stuffed animal. Since BigB is way more than 6 feet tall, and the short, bare mid-riff look doesn't do much for him, we stretch the shirts, then hang them to dry. It doesn't take very long, so it works for me.

The two person technique is most effective. PPP works really hard on this, since she doesn't much like for her midriff to be bare either. She can relate. Young Son, not so much. Whatever, work fast and get out. Even when we are on the clock, I remain mesmerized by the suds. The young ones are stretching shirts, and I am watching the suds. And possibly having a heat stroke. Or a hot flash. Or both. N.B.: this particular washer is labelled as if it were in a Harry Potter laundromat, what with the instructions about the 'programme.'I was SO mesmerized that I didn't notice that another of my 17 washers in use was dripping. The Laundry Lady noticed, and started piling up the towels under the drip. And panicking. This happens when a piece of laundry is stuck in the door and 'breaks the seal' so the water runs out. In this case, it was the string in a pair of pajama pants. The Laundry Lady gets pretty agitated and asks if we are going to be late for an appointment or a meeting. Do these people look like they are going to be late for a meeting? I didn't think so. Laundry Lady, bless her agitated heart, decided that the thing to do was to unplug the machine, open the door, get the string out, then start it up again, to avoid possibly....letting the water keep dripping out. I offered the services of Young Son, a strapping and agile young man who is also obedient. She declined, all the while, calling him 'sir.' "Sir, you'll have to step away. This is dangerous." Sir? Seriously? He's a 15 year old smart-ass. Obedient and strapping, but a smart ass nonetheless. He is not yet a 'sir'. I have seen him after lax summer league and when he has a headache. Not 'sir.' Not yet.So this was her solution. After re-arranging the mutant and fuzzy plants, she kicked off her keds and jumped up on those washers...and did this. Twice. Once to unplug it, once to plug it back in. There were sound effects. Not so many people are taking pictures in the laundromat, so I try to be discreet. Ok, I'm the only one taking pictures. I was mesmerized again, by the sight of the Laundry Lady with her head down behind the row of washers. ALL of which contained my clothes - and the ones on the other side too. Sorry, other patrons.
I was so engrossed in the whole head-behind-the-washer scenario that I let this happen. These are our wet clothes, and they are sitting in the washer. We don't let that happen. Part of our technique is speed. The instant the machine stops, we pull the clothes out and throw the wet clothes into about 4 dryers per washer. My attention was diverted and I let this happen. And then, to make matters worse, I made my minions wait while I took the picture.
So, we got the clothes in the dryer. But here's the question. Is there no justice? I am spending HOURS in the laundromat because my washer is broken, and so I go to the laundromat....and the washer breaks. It added at least 10 minutes to our time. Not fair. And she called my Young Son 'Sir'. Just saying.

Laun - dro-mat, a very warm place

A week ago .... or maybe it was two or three or nine weeks ago....I discovered my awesome washing machine unresponsive, running but stuck. My super-size washer has never let me down. It does give me sheets wound into sopping ropes and tied into big drippy knots, but nevertheless, it tells me at any given moment, how much longer until it finishes. I do NOT however like that it locks, and I can't lift the top to see it washing. As is my custom, I sent a minion-child down to see "how many more minutes until it's time to put the clothes in the dryer." the answer was 31 minutes... later, still 31 minutes, later still 31 minutes. Since I assumed (wrongly) that my Young Son was NOT ACTUALLY CHECKING, I went to see...to find it stuck sloshing at 31 minutes and locked. After much ado, we did get it unlocked ...as a tech guru, I unplugged it and re-start it. Since I often do laundry overnight, I went to bed. The next morning, about 16 hours and 12 minutes after we started round 2, it still had 46 minutes left. Chugging along, locked at 46 minutes. I DON'T HAVE TIME to deal with the Maytag man, in two weeks maybe, but not this week. So....183 loads of laundry, broken washing machine. Is there a question here? The laudromat - where once I did a solid 19 loads of laundry in 3 hours? And that's quick! when you have about 183!

Pretty Pretty Princess was willing to go. Yea, PPP! Young Son loaded the car as a show of support.

The bedding plants I bought 3 weeks ago... not yet bedded. Can they just put themselves to bed?

That smell is intoxicating - all clean and warm, with undernotes of chlorine. . My loads are sloshing and sudsing and bubbling. I put my stuff on top of the washers, so I would know where my clothes are. That's MY Downy, MY laundry plastic thing and MY cup with green dots, on top of MY laundry.
Suds pretty much look the same. Though wait...is that a red...wet thing? Is it ours or is my stuff on top of random laundry?
The laundromat guy brought me orange stickies -because he noticed that I had "stuff kinda all over the place' - Indeed, that would be 12 of those mamas all over the place. I was the ONLY ONE in the place with orange stickers. All of them sloshing at the SAME TIME! It's a miracle - and fast too. On to the dryers...Rows and rows of dryers - and they are all full of our stuff - at the same time! And yes, those are our hampers....in a little line, staking out more dryers. I am doing HOURS ....nay, DAYS worth of laundry at the same time. This is a good thing. When we leave here, we'll be done.
She's not looking quite as pleased as I feel. I have a place deep down inside that LOVES the smell of laundry. It's a scar, albeit a good scar.....deep down inside. Other scars from laundry are from the searing hot clothes as they come out of these big boys.

We used 11 dryers ....don't worry about it.

Do we OWN anything that color? PPP says yes, probably one of her 27,196 tee shirts. That allows her to go 7 weeks without doing laundry and still wearing clean clothes. She claims. You had me at 'Sorry' . . .Don't worry, we'll still BE HERE in thirty days. Wait! No! They kicked us out! I had only one more load, the one that had been used ...accidentally, I feel sure...as some sort of stand-in litter box affair by the kittens, and possibly the dog on a rainy day. He's stubborn like that. Guys...they relieve themselves wherever is convenient. But, back to laundry....AHA, progress!

Never mind that the clothes are blistering her hands, PPP appears to be folding that ....thing of ours...as it comes out of the dryer.
Voila! ....or Bravo! or Ole! or "Who would have thought all of our clothes would fold up into neat little piles?" And we had some quarters left. My cup with the dots....so cute, yea, daughters, great Mother's Day! Meanwhile, back at home .....dusk deepens,

Oh....my bedding plants...still not bedded. Somehow I thought that would happen while I was gone.
All together, that first round took us two trips, about 20 loads in their washers (which translates to about 56 in my humble home-style machine) - and we used every dryer we could get our hands on. Though there was a lady there who raced me to a dryer - but that's a whole different story. We spent a lot of quarters - say maybe $32 or 4 pounds worth of quarters. And my Young Son wants me to count the cost of my time - so, that would be another $210,000 or $1.19, depending on how you count it.
Just saying.