Reading post: Mick Herron in April

It's the last day of April, time for another reading post. In April I decided to take it easy and read books by Mick Herron, the British writer (born in 1963) who has become famous for his books about not very good spies. I loved the New Yorker profile of him, a year or so ago, and always wanted to read something by him. April seemed like a good time to give him a try.

• Slow Horses (2010). It took me a little while to get into this book, the first in the Slough House spy novel series. But once I did I loved it! There isn't much I can say that hasn't been said already by so many reviewers. I appreciated Mick Herron's command of the language. Before reading this, I tried to read a mystery that I was interested in (The Dante Club by Matthew Pearl), but the writing just set my teeth on edge. Pearl is very well-educated, but he doesn't (or didn't, in that book -- maybe he's gotten better) know how to write the kind of language you need for mystery fiction. Anyway, my point is that from the first sentence of Slow Horses, I knew I was in the hands of a master and could relax. What a fun book. I'd like to watch the TV show, but of course we don't have Apple TV. Maybe someday it'll be available on DVD from the library (I could buy an all-region Blu-ray version on eBay, but I think I'll wait).
  
  
• Dead Lions (2013). For about the first half of this book I couldn't seem to get settled with it. Herron likes to jump around among several different points of view -- each "slow horse" is doing something different and we get to watch them all, or most of them. This jumping back and forth can be distracting. But finally I calmed down enough to let it flow over me and I thought this book was pretty much as good as the first. I would definitely read the rest of the series -- and I probably will, eventually. The only thing I don't like about these books is that nice characters die, people you've gotten to know a little. You have to be able to rise above that, not let it bug you, and I wasn't in that sort of mood this month.
  
  
• Down Cemetery Road (2003). Instead of reading the third in the Slough House series, I decided to try one of Herron's "mystery" novels, which he wrote first. It's not really a mystery, though. It's sort of a cross between a mystery and a spy novel, and I didn't like it at all at first. I'd say the first half -- maybe two thirds -- of the book annoyed me. The detective(s) barely played a part -- it was all about a bored housewife and I didn't find her compelling. But then it started getting interesting, and the last third was really hard to put down. Now I think maybe I'd like to read the rest of the series (there are three others)...
   

So that was Mick Herron. Overall verdict: very good, lots of fun, but a little disturbing if you're not in the mood to read about nice people getting killed. Also, these books do tend to keep me looking over my shoulder a lot, in case someone is following me or planning to kill me.

***

Since it was April, I was supposed to read one book from the shelves above my bed, but there's hardly anything left on those shelves that I haven't read. Finally I decided on Dylan Thomas's Collected Poems -- and got about one-sixth of the way through. Oh well. Another time.

What I did read was another book by Lily King, her latest novel -- Writers and Lovers (2020). I didn't mean to, but there it was on the shelf at the library, so... I was a little disappointed by it. There she was, at the height of her powers after the wonderful Euphoria, and she goes back into her own past to write another novel about a young woman with a dreadful father. If anything, the father in this book was worse than the father in Father of the Rain. And I wasn't excited about the romantic side of the book, either. But what I did like was her portrayal of a writer (herself). In the very first scene, her awful landlord makes a snotty comment about why on earth she bothers writing. Back in her tiny, moldy-smelling rented room, she tries again to write. And there's this great, honest quote:

I don't write because I think I have something to say. I write because if I don't, everything feels even worse.

And then, near the end of the book, when she's giving a short speech to a bunch of high school students:

What I have had for the past six years, what has been constant and steady in my life is the novel I've been writing. This has been my home, the place I could always retreat to. The place I could sometimes even feel powerful, I tell them. The place where I am most myself.

The book has an unrealistic, fairytale ending, but that's OK. I read it for the parts about writing.

For May, who am I going to read? I've been alternating between male and female writers, so it's time for another woman. From my long list of possible writers, I chose Elizabeth Savage, an American author (from Montana originally) born in 1918. She's the author of one of my favorite books of all time, Happy Ending (1972), but I've never read anything else by her except her first novel, Summer of Pride (1960), which is sort of a less-good version of the same story. So anyway, that'll be my May. I'm also going to try to read a biography of Warren G. Harding, bleah, not looking forward to that. But I'm sure I'll get through it.

Relief

Rocket Boy is finally here (for a week) and I can feel the stress dripping off my shoulders.

It's been a strange couple of months, as I felt myself slowly falling apart. I didn't stop doing the basic things I had to: getting the kids off to school, feeding the cats, doing some housework, keeping up with the laundry, making dinner, helping the kids with their homework, feeding the cats again, getting everyone to bed. But anything beyond that felt impossible. 

For example, I haven't been able to bake. I keep buying bananas, letting them get soft, then they rot, and then I throw them in the compost, without ever turning them into banana bread. And also, no cookies. I keep buying cookies at the grocery store. Making them at home seems beyond me. This is stupid: I like to bake (sort of). And I hate making dinner, but I've been making dinner quite successfully -- because I feel like I have to. But baking is extra, so I can't do it.

I also haven't been able to cut up branches. There was one day, a few weeks ago, when I pulled myself together and cut up a branch that was lying in the front yard. I put it in the compost bin. But nothing since. I think about going outside, with my clippers and my leaf bags, and then I think, nope, not gonna happen. This past Friday was compost pick-up day and our next-door neighbor -- our TENANT -- put out 8 leaf bags full of cut up branches. I was impressed and thought about at least picking up the small branch that's currently on the front lawn. But I didn't do it.

I keep asking myself, what would you do if Rocket Boy died? What if he were no longer available to come home and fix things? And the answer is: first, probably, I'd fall apart, and then, gradually, I'd start making my own decisions about everything. I'd find a handyman, I'd find various service people. It would take time, but eventually I'd learn how to take care of things. First, though, I would probably fall apart, continue the process that I seem to have begun the last few months. Maybe I'd figure out that I can't manage a house, don't want to manage a house. Maybe I'd sell all the properties, buy a condo. I don't know.

But for now, at least, I don't have to find out what I'd do, because Rocket Boy came home.

I made Rocket Boy a honey-do list for his visit and he has started doing some of the things on it. He tried to repair the rice cooker but discovered that it needs a new part that would have to be ordered from the manufacturer. So he found a replacement base on eBay and ordered that instead. He worked on the front storm door handle and on the bathroom door problem. He hammered in the board that was falling out of the front porch roof. He changed a lightbulb in the twins' room (he's the only one tall enough to do that easily). He keeps saying, "You know, the twins could do some of this stuff." Once he said, "The CATS could probably do some of this stuff." I just smile and give him a hug or a kiss. I can't explain how hard it's been for me to do anything other than the basics.

He went down and looked at the furnace, discovered that a red light on it is blinking three times in a row, and when I looked that up on the internet, we both agreed that this is something for a qualified HVAC person to handle, not him. It has something to do with fuel not getting to the furnace and the repair is complicated (for amateurs). So on Monday we're going to call someone. Of course I could have called someone weeks ago, if I were capable of doing anything. It's OK.

***

We had a decent week before Rocket Boy came. The kids had Monday off, and then on Wednesday, Teen A had his physical. He is now 5' 9.5" which surprised me. He's grown two inches since last year. Now I wonder how much the twins will grow in the coming year. It's funny -- watching them grow makes me want to grow too. Sorry, Mom, no more growing for you. But at least I've gotten my lost inch back (from doing stretching exercises). Sadly, the 6 pounds or so that I gained this winter seem to be permanent. For a while they came and went every few days, but they've been with me for some weeks now. Oh well.

I still haven't decided what to do about taking Mounjaro. Occasionally I think I will take it. Why not give it a shot? Sure would be nice to lose some weight, and it will help my A1c. Other days I think absolutely I am not going to take it. What an awful drug. I know it will make me sick, and it's very likely that it will make me depressed. Our insurance will change within the next six months and the new cheaper insurance probably won't cover it and then I'll gain back whatever weight I've lost. It's just not a good choice for me right now. 

And then the next day I think, well, maybe I should try it.

Friday was Teen A's 504 meeting, to decide whether he would be eligible for a 504 since he tested out of his IEP and is no longer considered "special ed." It was more than a little awkward to be telling his counselor and the assistant principal about Teen A's limitations while he's sitting across the table looking at me, but I persevered. There was no way I was going to let them remove all his accommodations, and they eventually agreed with me. 

There's no parking for visiting parents at the school, so sometimes I take the bus when I have to go there. But for this meeting I drove to the main library and parked there (you can have 90 minutes of free parking) and then walked to the school. It isn't a very long walk (about half a mile), but I am SOOOO out of shape. I was grateful that the meeting was on the first floor and I didn't have to go up any stairs. When I got home, after the meeting, I just collapsed for a while. The morning was both mentally and physically taxing.

Later that afternoon, a tree person finally came out to look at the mess in our yard. I was dreading that, but he turned out to be quite pleasant. He was really just there to look and then give us a quote, but when he saw what was going on in our yard, he asked me if I'd like him to at least cut apart the gigantic branch that smashed through the patio roof. He said he'd do it for $50. I said yes, please, so he did, and then he went up on the roof and cut up the rest of it and threw it down to the yard. And so now our yard looks like this. Just a massive pile of branches covering everything.

Then he took a look at the gigantic branch that was half broken off and hanging down, and he said that didn't look safe, so he cut it down and then went on the roof and cut some more things down. Most of it ended up lying across the cellar door. I knew Rocket Boy was going to want to go down in the basement, so I dragged the gigantic branch into the yard. This picture doesn't show it very well. I couldn't get the whole branch into one shot, it's so enormous.

He's going to send us a quote for the Siberian elm, another quote for the honey locust in the front yard that he said is diseased and needs help while we can still save it, and another quote for day labor, where he and his crew would just come and work on smaller bits of trees. I know I should get multiple quotes, but I thought he was nice and would be happy to work with him. We'll see.

***

So, it's Sunday. We did our Starbucks run, Rocket Boy took Teen B driving for an hour, and now he and Teen A are driving. Neither boy wanted to do this; I wasn't sure we were going to get Teen B out of the house, but eventually he and RB left. They went to the Huckleberry restaurant in Louisville for lunch. I'm not sure where RB and Teen A are going. It's so nice not to have to be the supervising driver.

Tomorrow morning the kids will go to school and Rocket Boy and I will call furnace guys and look for doors and maybe start cutting up branches. I don't know exactly what we'll do. In less than a week he'll leave again, but I'm going to try to pull myself together while he's here so that I can function better after he leaves. I'm just so glad he's here now. So grateful for another week together.

Another week in April

Yes, another week in April, the cruelest month. 

I'm trying to think of anything good that happened this week. The kids had most of the week off, due to testing, and we also had several appointments. On Tuesday, I went to my parent support group and that night my book group came (we read and all enjoyed The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder by David Grann). Wednesday the kids took the PSAT, the cats got their nails clipped at the vet, and I got a call from the gastroenterologist's office, telling me one of my polyps was a sessile serrated lesion, which is precancerous, so I will have to do the whole thing again, colonoscopy and endoscopy, in only 3 years, not 10. I've spent a lot of time this week googling sessile serrated lesions.

Thursday I saw the orthodontist. I had this great plan for getting him to take my braces off: I told him that we would be losing our insurance later this year (when Rocket Boy retires), and so I needed to finish up quickly. No dice. He said, "Oh, they've probably paid all they're going to pay, so it doesn't matter." And then he redid my wires to make them tighter and more painful, put the chain back on the bottom teeth -- I've had that for a YEAR already -- and put a new hook on a bottom tooth, so now I have a rubber band triangle on my right side to go with the vampire rubber band on the left. Since then I've had several moments of wanting to off either myself or the orthodontist. I said to him, "So you think a few more months?" and he said yes, a few more months. End of summer, maybe. I'm sure I'm going to have to go to California with my braces on. Eat all those meals with relatives with my braces on. Have relatives watch as I use my finger to dig the food out of my braces at the table. Maybe I can just have soup for every meal. Pureed soup. Or I'll tell people I'm on a liquid diet, and just sip a glass of water while they eat. Uh huh.

[On a possibly related, possibly unrelated, note, twice recently I've had people tell me I have a twin. One of the girls at Starbucks told me there's another woman who comes in regularly who looks exactly like me, and she always thinks this woman is going to order what I always order. Then, more weirdly, a male employee at King Soopers came up to me and said, with no preamble, "Where do you work?" I said, truthfully, nowhere, and he was puzzled for a moment, but then said, "Do you take the bus a lot?" I said, also truthfully, no, and he said, "Well, then you have a twin." What I'm wondering is, do I have one or two twins, and also, has the change in my appearance caused by two years of braces done this? Or is this a variation on "older women are invisible," i.e., "older women all look alike"?]

On Friday, Teen A got his hair cut, and Teen B had his yearly physical. He is now 5'7", two inches taller than last year. Last year Teen A was 5'7.5", so I know he's taller than that, but how much taller? We'll find out next Wednesday.

The worst thing that happened this week was that we had snow. Now, snow in April in Colorado is not that big a deal. It would be strange if it didn't snow. April snow showers bring May flowers, etc. It often breaks branches and makes a mess, but it's normal. However, this year, of course, we don't have a functioning furnace. It tries to turn on, and then gives up. Rocket Boy tried to get me to go down in the basement and look at the error codes that he said must be showing up on the furnace -- well, come on. I hate the basement, and it's cold and wet and muddy and there are so many spiders, and there are broken tree branches all over, including hanging over the basement door, waiting to fall on me, and where are these error codes anyway and how would I interpret them on the off chance that I find them? No, just no.

Teen A actually showed some interest in investigating this on Friday, when it was starting to get cold in the house. We came home from his haircut and he suggested we go take a look at the basement. But I wanted to go in the house first, dump my purse and some other things, and by the time I did that, he didn't want to go down in the basement anymore. The siren call of his computer was too strong, maybe. Anyway, Friday afternoon it started to snow. Friday night it was cold in the house -- Saturday morning it was colder -- Saturday night it was colder still. I started turning the oven on and leaving the door open, as a heat source. An expensive heat source, but not a dangerous one as long as you don't have a gas oven, or toddlers, or stupid animals. Our animals are pretty smart; even Sillers is too smart to fall into an oven. Baby Kitty camped out on the stovetop, enjoying the heat wafting up from the oven. 

And of course I turned it off when we went to bed. Sleeping actually hasn't been a problem. I just put an extra blanket on my bed, a thick wool one, and I'm warm as toast. I put multiple blankets on Teen B, but he kicks them off during the night, and last night I put an old comforter on Teen A, but he was horrified, so I took it off. They both sleep very hot, so they don't seem to need extra coverings. 

What's that you say? Why don't I call a furnace guy? Well, a few different reasons. First of all, it's April. Today it's sunny and the snow is melting and it's 54 degrees. Tomorrow it's supposed to get to 75. So this isn't a real emergency. When Rocket Boy comes, he'll look at the furnace and see if it's something simple that he can fix, and if it's not, we'll call a furnace guy, and RB will be here to talk to the furnace guy and understand what he's saying.

I am really looking forward to Rocket Boy's arrival. Six more days.

So, what else do we have to look forward to this coming week?

• Monday the kids have another day off school.
• Tuesday the kids go back to school, finally, thank God.
  
• Wednesday Teen A has his physical, in the afternoon during his free period.
• Thursday I have a dietician appointment that I think I'm going to cancel.
• Friday is Teen A's 504 meeting that I have to attend in person. And the tree guy is supposed to come and look at our disasters. He canceled this past Friday, due to the abominable weather.
  

Not a bad week, I think. I need to call the eye doctor and make appointments for me and the kids, which I keep forgetting to do. I should clean the house for Rocket Boy, but just the usual stuff, nothing special. I didn't clean very much for the book group last week, too depressed, but I was pleased to see that the house didn't look bad, because I had cleaned the week before. This semi-regular cleaning business does make life easier, even if you don't manage to do it every week.

Oh, one more thing. Last week, I noticed that the door on the front closet was the same size as our bathroom door, plus the hinges were on the correct side. I mentioned this to Rocket Boy, and he pointed out that Teen A would be capable of moving it over to the bathroom. I was sure Teen A wouldn't want to do this, but this afternoon he decided he did, so we gave it a try.

The door doesn't fit exactly -- you can't lock it, and there's a pretty big gap between the bottom of the door and the floor -- but it's a big improvement over no door at all. Taking a shower might even be sort of pleasant (it's been awful the last couple of days, with the house so cold). I'm not sure this is going to be the final door, so we haven't removed the hooks from when it was a closet door. We'll see what Rocket Boy thinks. But it's good for now.

So, you know, life is OK. More or less. Even though it's April.

Making progress

That post title is optimistic rather than truthful. I don't think I've made much progress this week. But one big thing did get done: the colonoscopy. And endoscopy, though that wasn't really the problem. Before an endoscopy you just have to not eat for 12 hours or whatever. Before a colonoscopy...

I've been noticing recently that I seem to be psyching myself out more these days, letting negative feelings take over, long before they're really justified. Colonoscopy prep is unpleasant, but it isn't the end of the world. But this past week, getting ready for the procedure, my mind was not my friend. I tried to eat a low-residue diet for a few days and THAT was the end of the world. No Heritage Flakes for breakfast! No fruits and vegetables except bananas! I couldn't eat a raspberry! All these things seemed like the stuff of grand opera, pure tragedy.

Also, I was sure that my friend Sally from my book group, who was going to take me to the hospital, would either forget or accidentally schedule something else at that time. What would I do -- how could I find a replacement at this late date? I emailed her Monday night, as a reminder, fingers almost too scared to type. I was SURE she would respond with bad news. But no, of course not. "I'll be there," she emailed me.

Then came Tuesday, the day I could only have clear liquids. No black tea! -- because I drink tea with milk and you can't have milk. I don't really care for herb tea, but I made myself a pot of Tazo Zen tea, which I do like (it's a mixture of green tea, spearmint, and lemongrass), and I drank that with a little honey. I ate popsicles. I ate an entire container of lemon sorbet. I was not suffering, in other words. But I felt as though I were! I wanted to eat real food! How could I go a day without real food?

And then it was Tuesday night, time to start taking the pills. With this new type of prep (Sutab) you have to swallow 12 big white pills with 16 oz of water, very slowly. I would swallow a pill with a sip of water, watch for the clock on the stove to turn to the next minute, then take another pill. After I'd finished them I felt a little nauseated, but OK. I set the timer for 30 minutes (you have to drink another 16 oz of water half an hour later), and went back to bed to read (i.e., play solitaire on my phone). The timer rang, I got up to get my next dose of water, and a huge wave of nausea came over me, just unbearable. I barely made it to the kitchen sink before I began to vomit, four waves of nothing but water (and dissolved pills). Oh no!

Apparently this happens a lot with these pills. I had probably swallowed them too quickly. I read the directions: if you vomit, you're supposed to finish the prep and then see what happens. If you start pooping, then you're probably fine. If you don't, you have to start taking massive doses of Miralax. I drank my 16 oz of water, waited another 30 minutes, drank 16 oz more, and then the pooping started. So I decided I was OK. But it wasn't fun -- can we acknowledge that? Nausea, vomiting, and then worrying about whether it's going to work or not, followed by insane diarrhea. Not fun.

Wednesday morning (before the twins got up) I had to do it all over again, 12 more pills, 48 more oz of water. But this time I was more careful. I set the timer on my phone for 90 seconds, swallowed a pill (which took about 12 seconds), waited 78 more seconds for the timer to ring, reset it, swallowed another pill, etc. It took me 20-25 minutes to finish the pills, which I think is closer to what they want you to do. I also carried around with me an empty plastic wastebasket (to throw up in, if needed), and I made myself a cup of Zen tea with honey to sip while I waited the 30 minutes. I also drank small cans of Starry after the two additional 16 oz cups of water, so I was drinking more liquid than required -- which you would think would make things worse, but I think the sugar helped calm my stomach. Anyway, no vomiting, and the pooping started up quickly. I don't think I was 100% cleaned out (judging by the photos), but the doctor said it was great, so, fine.

Sally arrived at 11:30 and drove me to Avista hospital in Louisville. We got lost, but that was fine because we'd allowed so much extra time (it takes about 10 minutes to drive to Avista if you don't get lost, and my appointment wasn't until 12:30). We sat and chatted about books until they finally took me in, around 12:40. 

Once I was in the gown and lying on the bed, I relaxed. I'd done my part -- now they could do theirs. I tried to be extra nice to all the staff: nurse, anesthesiologist, doctor, anesthesia nurse, and the person who pushed my bed to the procedure room. Everyone was nice back. The IV hurt going in and didn't work well at first, but then the nurse put a weight on it and wrapped my hand up nice and tight and we were good. They were very interested in the fact that I have sleep apnea and I had to wear a bracelet that said SLEEP APNEA ALERT, which I thought was funny. In the procedure room I had to roll onto my left side and a moment later I was asleep and a moment after that I was waking up out of a nice dream. They used an anesthesia called Propofol that works very quickly and also stops working very quickly, plus it didn't make me nauseous.

The results of the procedure were OK. I had two small polyps in my colon, which are probably not cancerous. They were removed and will be biopsied. No sign of diverticulitis, which I was worried about. I still have Barrett's esophagus but it doesn't sound like it's gotten much worse. They biopsied that too. I also had a small stricture which was making it hard to swallow, and they removed that and biopsied it (I think). I'll get the results of all the biopsies this coming week, but I'm not worried about them. 

Ever since the procedures I've felt as though I'm nothing but a long tube stretching from my mouth to my anus. I wonder if gastroenterologists tend to think of people that way. 

So, OK, colonoscopy and endoscopy done. Check that off the list. Other things on the list that got done this week include the taxes (our preparer filed them on Thursday), and the property taxes on the cabin which I paid yesterday (mailed them a check). We are getting about $4,000 back on our taxes, so that will help pay for some of the other things on the list.

The problem is, the list is still very long. Let's see...

1. the gigantic branches in the yard, especially the one that smashed through the patio roof
2. the badly-damaged patio roof itself and the opening that leads to the attic
   
3. the house roof, hiring an inspector to check it for damage from all the branches (can't really do this until the branches are gone)
   
4. the missing bathroom door
5. the back storm door, which has mostly stopped opening, making it very difficult to go out into the backyard and look at the gigantic branches, which I feel the need to do constantly.
   
6. finding a dentist (our dentist flaked out and no one in Boulder who takes our insurance is accepting new patients).
7. whether or not to start taking Mounjaro, and when -- my current plan is to wait until I get the results of all the biopsies, but what will my decision be then?
   
8. the files and piles of papers in the desk room that I need to deal with before the end of the school year
9. the HVAC repairs on the rental house next door -- getting estimates, scheduling the work, paying for it...
   
10. Teen A's transition from IEP to 504 -- the meeting keeps being put off, but is currently scheduled for April 26th.
11. the furnace -- this is a new one -- it keeps trying to turn on and then giving up. Currently I am dealing with this by turning the thermostat lower every time I hear the furnace struggling. Probably not a long-term solution -- it's warm right now, but it's only April.
12. I discovered today that a big branch of the junipers on the west side of the house has half-broken off, completely blocking the path from the back to the front of the house on that side.
    
13. not sure, but I'll leave this as a placeholder for whatever I'm forgetting
    

OK. Some of this is being worked on. Rocket Boy called a tree trimmer and they are going to come out and look at the yard next Friday.

Also, Rocket Boy is coming! I forced him to make a plane reservation over the phone on Thursday (got a wonderfully cheap fare), so he is flying out on April 27th and staying until May 4th. A full week to work on all the nonsense. I plan to go to bed with a nervous breakdown while he's here, just let him try to fix everything while I pass out. (Probably not a workable plan.)

I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to his arrival. EVERYTHING KEEPS FALLING APART AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. And also, it will be nice to see him.

I'm supposed to be working on the bathroom door problem before he comes (he doesn't like the idea of using a bathroom with no door), but I'm currently unable to do so. Just the thought of calling an unknown handyman and explaining the situation -- plus the fact that we have a replacement door but the hinges are on the wrong side and would they be willing to try to make it work -- makes me queasy and panicky.

I did just have a thought -- the door on our front closet has the hinges on the correct side (I think), and it's the right size. I wonder if we could turn that into a bathroom door. It's an idea.

OK. Deep breath. This coming week we have a lot going on, and the kids have regular school only on Monday because of testing and because Friday is a "conference exchange day." That means I will be making lunch a lot, but hopefully they'll have less homework in the evenings, maybe just reading.

• Monday I'll spend the day cleaning and grocery shopping and generally getting ready for the book group.
• Tuesday I have my parent support group from 11 to 1 and then the book group at 7 pm. The kids are off school that day and will be hanging around, hindering rather than helping.
  
• Wednesday I have to take both cats to get their nails clipped at 11 (this is important -- I am covered with scratches from both of them). The kids have to take the PSAT that day, from I think 9 to 12, after which they'll be home.
  
• Thursday I have an orthodontist appointment at 11:20. The kids are off school again.
  
• Friday the kids are off school again, Teen A has a haircut appointment at 11, Teen B has a doctor appointment at 4, and the tree trimmers are supposed to come somewhere in there.
  

It will be a busy week, but I think I am up to it. For some reason almost everything is scheduled for 11 am. That's fine. 11 am is a good time to do things. 

I remain convinced that we are in the middle of a problem time, a time when everything breaks, and we just have to keep going until it's over. It's like 1989-90, when there was one death after another in my family: my father, my brother-in-law's mother, my aunt, my grandfather, the family dog, several more distant relatives, and finally my brother-in-law's father -- and then it stopped.

Think positive. It will all be OK. Maybe. Eventually.

It never rains but it pours

I feel as though I should have come up with a catchier title -- it never snows but it blows? but I'm not really up to catchy today. I slept very badly last night, with the wind blowing and blowing and blowing, and I'm not a happy camper this morning, thinking about all the things I have to deal with.

Long story short, another branch came off our Siberian Elm last night, during winds of up to 80 mph, maybe higher. (There were winds of up to 95 mph reported in Boulder at different times during the day/night.) It crashed through our porch roof -- not the skylight, as happened a few years ago, but the actual roof, pulling it away from the house in addition to making a huge, gaping hole. Now there is a thick, heavy branch beneath the porch roof and a whole lot more of the branch above the porch roof. We'll need major repairs done to the porch roof, but also, how do we get that branch down? Maybe if I had a chainsaw, I could cut it in half and then Teen A could go on the roof and throw down the top half...

One thing that I had hoped would happen in this storm is that the branch that was half lying on our roof (from the big snowstorm a few weeks ago) would finally break off entirely and blow into the yard. It didn't do that -- it's still attached to the tree, darn it -- but it did move off the roof. I am grateful for that. You have to be grateful for what you can get.

You can sort of see it in this picture. It used to be lying across the roof. Now it is next to the roof, bumping up against the gutters (probably damaging them, and who knows what it's already done to the roof). I could almost cut bits of it off with loppers. I wonder if that would be safe.

Of course there are many other things I need to do in the yard. This monster branch is still lying there, tangled up in the ruined clothesline. I noticed that it is positioned a little differently, though, as though the winds moved it around. The CenturyLink guy cut it in half so that he could reposition the phone/internet cables, and the two halves seem farther apart now.

Our next-door neighbor/tenant told me that a big branch came down onto their driveway -- I think from the baby volunteer Siberian Elm that's between the houses -- but her son moved it into their yard. 

The most ridiculous thing is that we never lost power. Xcel Energy preemptively cut power to many thousands of homes in the Denver metro area yesterday, including many of our neighbors', because the high winds were so likely to cause fires (if power lines were down and sparking). But not us. My next-door neighbor to the east, who is a caregiver for an old lady with Alzheimer's, took the old lady and went to stay at a relative's home in Brighton last night because she was worried about the wind and about losing power. This afternoon she called me to ask if we had ever lost power and when I said we hadn't, she told me she'd just gotten a call from Xcel saying they were going to cut her power TODAY, so she wasn't sure if she should come home or not. It's still windy, although not like yesterday. I hope we don't lose power now. That would pretty much finish me off.

One funny thing... well, maybe it's funny... we had a big hailstorm earlier this week! On Monday, I got a text from Kid A saying it was hailing at his high school. I looked out the window -- it wasn't even raining here. Well, the high school is two and a half miles away, sometimes the weather is different there. Anyway, about an hour later I looked out the window and saw this. Really significant hail, and it went on for a long time. 

Fortunately, it's only April, and no one in Boulder in their right mind would plant anything in April, so no plants were damaged (the junipers can take it). One year I remember we had a hailstorm in June or July that pretty much destroyed our garden.

In other news, we managed to acquire a new door from a neighbor this week, to replace the ruined bathroom door. The only problem is that it's a right-hand door and we need a left-hand door (or it may be the reverse, I can't seem to keep it straight in my mind what those terms mean). The hinges are on the wrong side. We took it anyway, though, stowed it in the dining room for now, because it's the right size, pretty much exactly matches the other doors in the house, it was free, and possibly a handyman will be able to re-engineer it so that it will work. 

So now I have to find a handyman.

And a tree-trimmer.

And a porch roof repairman.

And I'm having a colonoscopy on Wednesday.

All of this nonsense is happening JUST when I was planning to finally call an HVAC company about the rental house's furnace problems, that we learned about over a year ago (at that time, the quote for repairs was $3000 -- it will probably be more now). Rocket Boy and I decided it was best to wait for spring, when furnace companies would have more time to deal with weird problems like ours. I thought, OK, let's get the mammogram out of the way (it was normal, by the way), let's get the colonoscopy out of the way, and then let's start calling HVAC companies. Instead, I should probably deal with these branches and the porch roof before something worse happens.

Oh, and the property taxes on the cabin are due April 30 ($2363.58, a huge increase from last year), and the insurance policy premium on our house is due on May 3 ($2452.25, also a significant increase from last year). Speaking of insurance, Rocket Boy thinks we should contact our insurance company and see if they'll pay something toward these repairs. That makes sense, of course, but I'm always nervous about trying to get money out of insurance companies. It always seems to lead to higher premiums.

I'm pretty sure we're going to have to sell something. Mutual funds, stocks, I don't know what, but something. Maybe the twins' college funds, ha ha. I got a statement for them a few days ago, they're looking good, about $75,000 in each account (it wouldn't pay for a private school, but it would cover two years at Colorado State or U. of Wyoming, or the whole four years if they went to Metro State and lived at home). Considering we've never put any additional money in since we opened the accounts back in 2008, they've grown a lot. But yeah, no, can't touch that. I'm just trying to think of something positive regarding our finances.

Of course, there's that other kind of taxes, too, due April 15th. I turned all our materials over to our tax preparer around March 1st and since then I have not heard one peep. I don't know if we're getting a refund, if we have to pay... She'll probably get back to me in about a week, RIGHT before taxes are due. I don't want to bother her until then. Oh, maybe just one little nudge, to be sure she's still alive. OK, I just sent her a nudge.

Positive stuff! What can I say that's positive? It doesn't help that when I look out my window for inspiration, this is what I see (it's part of the branch that was formerly lying on the roof). If you compare this with the picture of the hail, you'll see how the branch has moved.

Last night was really scary, by the way. Because after the branch came down and smashed through the patio roof, the wind didn't, like, STOP, or anything. It went roaring on, for hours and hours more. I think that happened around 10 pm or so, and when I finally turned off my light (which wasn't until 2 am, not because I wasn't sleepy, but because I was too scared to go to bed), there was no reduction in wind. That 95 mph gust that they recorded up at NCAR was at 2:55 am. I slept in my clothes, fearful that I would have to jump out of bed and deal with an emergency in the middle of the night. I'm so tired today.

The kids and I joked about it a little. We were all scared, but even in the scariest situations, you end up making jokes. I made Teen B leave the kitchen (he likes to sit at the counter, playing on his phone and ipad), because I felt that we would be safer in the living room, farther away from possible marauding branches. After all, the National Weather Service advised us to "avoid windows." So we huddled together in the living room (OK, right next to a window, but not a window near the Siberian Elm), as it got later and later, way past their bedtime, making jokes. Teen A expressed worry about taking a shower. I said "Yes, just think, if a branch comes through the bathroom roof, then we won't have a bathroom door OR a bathroom ceiling!" Ha ha ha.

I called Rocket Boy to tell him what happened, and really yelled at him for not being here. Poor Rocket Boy. What is he supposed to do? His job is what makes it possible for us to pay for all these things, plus, oh yeah, he just had surgery. We've decided he will try to come out here the last week of April, so in about 3 weeks.

In the meantime, I just have to cope. I'm so bad at coping! But I have to. As Teen B says to me whenever I complain about anything, "You decided to have kids." And, "You decided to have a house." And other such statements. I say, "Can I change my mind?" but no, of course I can't. 

I feel as though all the things have decided to break at once. It's like they see one thing causing problems and they think, "Oh, it must be problem-causing time, let's do it too." Problem-causing time occurs every now and then, and all you can do is live through it.

So, the week ahead. Eating low-fiber foods today and tomorrow, clear liquids only on Tuesday, 12 horrible pills and a whole lot of pooping on Tuesday night, 12 horrible pills and a whole lot more pooping on Wednesday morning (and this is all with no door on the bathroom, la la la), off to Avista Hospital for my colonoscopy at 12:30 (if my friend Sally doesn't forget to come get me), and then that will be over and I can go back to working on all these house problems on Thursday.

We'll survive.

Reading post: Lily King in March

March is over and done with, time for another reading post. In March I decided to read books by Lily King, a contemporary writer who is about three years younger than I am. She grew up in Massachusetts, went to school in North Carolina and New York, and has lived in Maine for many years.

Since I had already read her fourth novel -- Euphoria (2014), which I adored -- I decided that I would read her first, second, and third books, all of which were available from local libraries.

• The Pleasing Hour (1999). King's first book was published the year she turned 36 -- which is kind of old to be a first novelist, now that I think about it. I believe she struggled a lot with this first novel, and it's a little mixed. It's the story of Rosie, who becomes an au pair in Paris at age 18 after a traumatic experience back home. And then things happen with her French family, too. King writes really well, and the characters are appealing and interesting, but I didn't quite believe in Rosie and I didn't get a sense of closure. At the end I had no idea what Rosie would do next, although I knew some things she wouldn't do. Do you always have to know that, at the end of a book? I guess not, but in this case I did want to know. Rosie was still very young and I was worried about her.
  
  
• The English Teacher (2005). This was a hard book to read (and to write, apparently). It's the story of a woman who is very damaged -- you sort of gradually figure out how, and eventually you're given the whole story -- and how she falls apart and then begins to recover. And it's really hard to watch. Lily King is an amazing writer, really great at portraying human beings and how they think and feel and interact. She's particularly good at writing about sexual feelings. But I didn't want to look so closely at this particular person, although the parts that focused on her teenage son were OK. It all works out in the end, there's plenty of closure in this book, but before you get there you have to experience some real agony. So I don't know about this one. I kept making excuses not to read it, and that's never a good sign.
  
  
• Father of the Rain (2010). This was my favorite of the three books, but again we've got a really difficult character to deal with. The main character is Daley, who has just turned 11 when the book begins and is around 45 when it ends, just after Obama is elected (when Lily King would also have been 45). She's OK -- it's her father who's the impossible one. He's an abusive alcoholic, very attractive to women of his age and class (he marries three times), and really horrible to Daley, who for some reason keeps trying to win his love. The book probably would have made more emotional sense if I could have seen what Daley sees in her father, but he just seemed disgusting to me from start to finish. Despite all that, despite knowing that something awful would happen in every chapter. I found the book compelling and kept picking it up again. But I don't know if I'd recommend it.
  

I think I now understand why Euphoria was Lily King's breakout book. She's a fabulous writer -- she was just working with bad material before. She herself must have had a traumatic childhood, probably involving alcohol abuse or perhaps some other kind of addiction or trauma, and she needed to write her way through it. It took three books.

Now I want to read her most recent novel, and her book of short stories, and I also want to see what she writes next. She's 60 now -- I really want to know what her 60-year-old self will write about.

***

This month I also read another book from the piles by my bed: I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika Sanchez. I bought this at Target a year or so ago, thinking I would read it to the twins, since it's about a teenager. Neither of them ever picked it from the pile, nor did I, and eventually I realized it wasn't the best choice for them. I read it during our trip to St. Louis and did not enjoy it at all. I could have brought it home and put it in a little free library, but instead I left it for Rocket Boy to deal with.

And I also read another book of poetry. I've been trying to choose poetry collections that have something to do with the author of the month, but it's difficult. In January I read poems by Nick Laird, who's married to Zadie Smith, and in February, failing to find any South African poets in our library, I read a book of poems by Michael Ondaatje, who was born in Sri Lanka and a collection by an African-American poet, Angela Jackson. This month I read The Blue Estuaries by Louise Bogan, because she's from Maine and Lily King is considered a Maine writer (sort of). Hmm. I understood maybe two or three of the poems in the book. Not really my kind of thing at all. Too mannered, too obscure.

I've been struggling with whom to read in April, and I've come to the conclusion that I need a break from serious writing. In April I have to have a colonoscopy, I may start taking Mounjaro, I have lots of other medical appointments, and the kids will need lots of help with school. Also, I need to acquire a new bathroom door and cut up thousands of branches and work on our messy files. 

I need to read someone more fun. 

So I am going to try Mick Herron, the British spy writer who was profiled in the New Yorker a while back. My little sister likes him and he sounds like someone I would like. He's another youngster -- born in 1963, same age as Lily King, three years younger than me. And our library owns most of his books (I've requested the first one). So that's the plan. We'll see how it goes.