Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Our DVR Must Be So Confused

Since my father passed away, (one of) my older sister(s) has been staying with us for multi-week stretches.  (Don't sigh!  This post won't be maudlin, I swear!)  She has a diagnosed intellectual disability.  In layman's terms, she is a forty-something seven-year-old.  Actually, in a bunch of situations, she presents older than that.  Like, she can cook without burning the house down, and can call pharmacies for prescriptions.  And, socially, she comes off as downright teenagery.  Be that as it may, she's not able to live on her own, so she's been circulating among those of us who happen to have spare bedrooms.

She is lovely, if at times challenging.  The challenges are familiar to parents of younger children, and are nothing outrageous.  Not putting wrappers in the trash, having to be reminded to tidy up, etc.

The biggest, most hilarious impact she has had on our home can be found in the scheduled recordings feature of our DVR.  Now, to really appreciate this, you have to understand that there are exactly two household chores that my husband owns.  By 'owns,' I mean he took the chores upon himself, and performs the duties with no external forces (translation: I never, ever, ever, have to nag him to do these things).

These chores are:  maintaining the DVR recordings, and taking out the trash.

He is especially on top of that DVR thing.  He gets the season preview of Entertainment Weekly, plugs in the shows we intend watch, manages conflicts, and prompts us to watch things that have been sitting for too long.  It's like the platonic ideal of stewardship.

My sister is also an enthusiastic television-watcher.  If you stir in the fact that she struggles a little with reading the digital guide, well, you get someone who is a little trigger-happy with the record button.  As such, a really eclectic mix of programs has started popping up on the DVR.  Her tastes swing further than Big Ben's pendulum.  Around the holidays we would find things like, "A Puppy for Christmas," followed by "Sleepaway Chainsaw Ghost Murders."  "Christmas Teddy Bear Parade" and all of the episodes of 'Bones' ever made.  Seriously.  I think through some sort of time warp she's even snagged some future episodes.

And so, it makes me giggle when I see my wonderful husband purse his lips and furrow his brow when there's a recording conflict between 'Sherlock' and the latest Eddie Cibrian drama on 'Lifetime.'

Monday, January 13, 2014

My Dwindling Wineglasses...

My husband's a bit of a teetotaler.  He's no Carrie Nation. Or...  Is he?

He's destroyed seven wineglasses in five years.  I can't remember the last time I broke a glass.  He claims that he is not personally wreaking this havoc.  The dishwasher was blamed for three of them.  Okay, fine.  But the other four?  Those, he says, simply slipped and exploded when they hit the granite counter tops.  (I know, I know... My diamond shoes are a total bitch, too.)

In an attempt to thwart either his (a) passive-aggressive booze prevention methods, or (b) legit butterfingered-ness, I bought shatterproof wineglasses. Shatterproof!  Elegant solution, yes?  Except, they are plastic.  As such, they are not immune to the melty nature of the dishwasher.  It's tough to see, but observe:


So, anyway, I'm having a very 'we can't have nice things' moment about my wineglasses, because if I buy fancy ones, they will inevitably end up shattered or melted.  Do they make wooden wineglasses?  Besides the Holy Grail prop from 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?'

Sunday, January 05, 2014

Happy New Year!

So, it's 12:30 p.m. on a Saturday night, and I'm under a blanket watching 'Celebrity Ghost Stories.' 'Cause I'm cool like that.

I have uncharacteristic energy at this time of night because I've spent the past two days in bed.  Not for any good reason, mind you.  I came down with whatever my husband and sons were infected with (tortured by?) earlier in the week.  Looking back, it was unwise of me to indulge in an evening snack of summer sausage and red wine while the threat of stomach flu hung in the air.  Trust, that is a meal that does not look good in reverse.

My husband's a hero and took care of all of the things around here (meals, groceries, JumpZone birthday party) so that I could loll around and recover.  The lolling happened in various places.  If you are ever a guest of ours, please note that the bathroom floor is *nearly* as comfortable as a bed!  Especially if you are lying prone and helpless.

I don't have any good reason for sharing this, except that I wanted you to know that my New Year started off with a bang.