Update #1, to the previous post, "Stages," in which Mary gets a job

Joe and I had talked about me looking for part time work after we moved. I wanted to get settled a little bit more before taking on this new thing. Besides having a little bit of extra money, Joe felt strongly that if I had too much discretionary time might, it might prove to be fertile ground in which my depression could again take root.

I was not actively looking for work yet. But I was starting to get more serious about the idea. I imagined to myself that perhaps in February, after the Christmas rush and recovery, I'd try to find something. I had "poked around," a little bit on the internet to see what kinds of jobs might be available. I did not want to work full time. I did not want to work when my kids were home from school. I did not want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe. I did not want to work in some food service type job in which I'd bring home gluten dust to drop into Joe's life. And I definitely did not want to drive 20 miles into Willmar for an entry level part time job.

So the couple of eating establishments in town were out. The bank was out. I am sorry to say that I don't feel like there is enough compassion left in me to be a CNA at the nursing home. There are a handful of other small businesses in town that I imagined might be suitable, but whether or not they'd be hiring anyone part time when I wanted a job was questionable.

There are two manufacturing places in town that seemed like possibilities. Kay's and Impact Innovations. But when I had periodically looked at their websites to check on employment opportunities, when there were jobs listed, they were always full time jobs.

I said in my previous post,

I have this fall, for the first time in 22 years, no children at home. People have asked what I'll do with myself. "Will you be bored or lonely?" "Are you going to look for a job?"

I further said,

When the time is right, I know God will present me with just the right "outside the home" job.

Just after Thanksgiving I got a call from a woman named Kathy at a local business, Kay's Naturals. Kathy said something like, "I understand you're looking for part time work. I can't say for sure I have a job for you, but if you're interested, I can present the idea at this afternoon's meeting and get back to you." Wow! That just blew me away.

And so I have a job. Just like that.

There is a little big of background to the story. One of the men at our church, Adam, is a supervisor at Kay's. Adam and I were talking in perhaps mid-November about my casual search for a job that maybe would turn more active in a few months.

Adam was at the other end of things with his job. Kay's had lost some full time employees. And there had been some difficulties with finding full time employees with a good work ethic.

Hmmmm, thought, the two of us somewhat in unison, "Too bad the companies that need people would not consider hiring part time. It seems like a part time person who is a good worker would be better than an extended search for the right a full time person."

Adam mentioned that he might ask about that if the opportunity arose.

And I gave the conversation really no more thought at all. I did not imagine that this conversation would lead to a spontaneous offer of a job.

But it did. Out of the clear blue sky.

Within about two weeks or our conversation.

So I talked to Joe. And I said yes.

I work from 8:30-12:30, Monday through Friday. After the kids leave for school I have about 45 minutes before I have to get ready to get out the door. I work in the shipping department, so I am moving all the time, which is good for me, since I've always dreaded the idea of a sedentary job. I work mostly with Adam and Cheryl F. Both are wonderful coworkers and they have been great trainers.

Oh, and did I mention that I can see the plant from my front door. I usually go out  my back door, but from the time I head out the door and get into the building and into the break room where I have to clock in, it's a four minute walk. I walk down the road, over the bridge, through a small green space, across the railroad tracks and around the warehouse to the front door. It's about 1/4 mile.

I've lost six pounds since I started working there.

People ask how I like my new job and I can eagerly say that I like it alot.

I still don't like that I am no longer a full-time, stay-at-home mom. But that is a post for a different day.

Stages

This is a post from October.  Some things have changed. But I'll save the updates for a different post.
Each stage has its own challenges and blessings. Each mommy has different skills and coping devices and stamina.

For me, my most productive and organized time was 4 and 5 kids. I don't know what happened in there, but I finally "got the hang of" the whole homemaking/ mothering organization.

But then I lost that after the two moves in 16 months that happened between babies 5 and 6. I never "got my groove back." I've gotten some parts back at some times, had new challenges thrown at me, totally lost any efficacy at other times, and then eventually sunk into a several years long depressive episode.

But now I'm back. I'm off antidepressants, feeling good, still struggling with concentration and motivation, but I really think that, too will improve with time and quiet.

Sometimes I see everything I've let slide over the last, say, ten or twelve years, and feel, .... overwhelmed. But I try very hard to not "go there," in that it's not productive and for me, I know now, might trigger the horrible depression into which I lapsed.
And now I find myself at a new stage, a new season. I have this fall, for the first time in 22 years, no children at home. People have asked what I'll do with myself. "Will you be bored or lonely?" "Are you going to look for a job?"

These are all valid questions. And things I've wondered myself. Joe has suggested I look for part time work. It would certainly help the budget. But for right now, I think there is plenty to do around the house. Plenty of organizing, plenty of cleaning. And of the making of lists there is no end.

I'm focusing on small steps. I'm trying to exercise. I'm trying to have after school snacks and meals ready at appropriate times. Healthy ones even! I try to not buy much prepared foods, or processed food, convenience foods, or whatever you want to use for a description of that stuff that you buy pre-made and just have to open a can or take something from freezer to oven. But this last six or eight months, after a move to a new house and having big kids home for the summer and people needing meals to go and meals at strange times, etc, .... And me having my kitchen kind of totally non-operational. I confess I've slipped a little bit. I've bought canned beans rather than cooking my own. I've used frozen pizza more times than I like to admit. I've used way more pasta than meat and potatoes. Even a quick pot of rice sometimes has seemed like too much work.

So meals, yes. It takes much out of me. And I need to get more organized, plan ahead, learn to shop at my new home, and finish tweaking the kitchen function.

I need to get the family office space or desk or file cabinet or whatever into a functional order. I need to know where the bills get put when they come in. I need to know where all the mail goes, and where to put the church mail for Joe. I need to have a good workable place for the kids to put the reams of paper they bring home from school. I need to research and be ready to discuss with Joe different option for debt reduction, since yes, over the last 15 years the level of our consumer debt has crept up and up and up. Something we were never, ever going to let happen. But it did. Gradually. Little by little. Month by month.

I want to create a smoothly enough running home so that when the kids are home, I like them. Say what?!?!

Of course I like my kids. I love them, in fact. But when the household is chaos, and all those bodies come tumbling in from the school bus, and they all want to tell me about their day. Some want snack and some like to do homework first and then snack and nobody wants to pick up their coats and jackets or put their shoes away right. Some can't find pencils, others need the computer, and there's always a line for something or other I need to sign, or something for which to write a check.

When all of this comes at me at about 4:30 in the afternoon, if supper is not already in the oven and laundry for the day done and folded, and other other daytime tasks I'm focusing on finished up, ... if I'm not up and running and ready for the afternoon commotion, ... sometimes by 5:00 I do not like my kids very much. And sadly, they do not like each other or me very much either. When the mom's not on top of things, the dynamic of everyone is adversely affected. It's one of those times of day that really can benefit from a mom with all her brain and a goodly part of her energy accessible.

That's what I hope to establish for my family in the next few months. There are signs that things are getting better.

I have been exercising. I have been brave enough to tackle some financial things. I have been about 70% on target with meals. I'm still only at about 50% of the time up-and-running kind of ready for the kids when they come home from school. The kitchen and living area tweaks continue, each one bringing a bit more order and therefore a bit more stability.

And we've started having read aloud again. At first it was only maybe once a week or so. But we're up to maybe two or three times a week that our evenings are smooth enough to manage it. I love being able to do that for and with the kids again. Some of my older kids' happiest memories involve something about the stories we read together when they were young. Either playing pretend with the story line, drawing scenes from it, repeating our favorite phrases at appropriately humorous times. It is something I cherish. So far I have not had much success in managing to work it in with the younger kids.

And so life goes one, the stages run, one into the next. Each with its own blessings and challenges. I praise God that I've been able to kick the prozac. I am so thankful for the gradually returning of my "old self." I thank God for each of my kids and each of the many joys they bring me. I am thankful for my Joe, who has sustained me, and put up with me, and loved me, just as I have him through all his stages and seasons.

And I pray God's blessings on this new and different stage of our lives, that of having no kids home during the day. When the time is right, I know God will present me with just the right "outside the home" job. I know until that time there is plenty to do here. I pray that I am able to continue to improve with focus and energy to get it all done.

Catching up

I can't believe I've not blogged since before we moved  in April.  Wow!!!!

I'm not even going to try to make a nicely written summary of everything that's happened since then. I plan to write a few little posts on some of the bigger things that have happened.

But for now, some highlights:

• Sad to leave our old home.
• Excited to meet our new people.
• Former members gave us a great send-off with a parish-wide final service and a nearly all-afternoon going-away party.  We had a huge turn-out of helping hands to load the truck and finish off the packing.  And I am still embarrassed by how we left the parsonage.  But we are grateful to those who said, "Just go, ... we'll finish up.  There's not going to be anyone moving in right away anyway."
• New members helped much here, with unloading truck and unpacking necessities.  And they worked diligently to build a second bathroom in our basement.
• Living on the edge of a small town rather than 13 miles from closest smaller yet town.
• Farm fields across street one direction, much used BNSF railway line closer in another direction than our mailbox was at the old place.
• Kids can play in the creek and catch crawdads in one direction and can walk to library, pool, grocery store, bakery, in other direction.  
• Lesser used city park with playground and extensive green space right next to our house, and separating us from the rest of town.
• Tight fit in smaller house, still trying to figure out how to best make it work.
• Installed storage shelves and working on additional living space in basement.
• Louisa and Else came home from college for summer.
• We get to see more of Jeremy, less of Matt.
• Clara spent most of the summer at Tiffany Bs outside of Plummer, MN, doing farm chores with horses and other animals, helping with toddlers, continuing to train her filly, working for Doc Hagen 
• Swimming lessons and annual pool pass = very brown kids and mom, and some pretty good swimmers
• Louisa and Elsie working at Clara City Care Center as CNAs
• Joe's office in the living room = oft-frustrated dad and many spur-of-the-moment outings for mom and kids
• First one-day VBS experience: Jesus the Good Shepherd: prophecy and fulfillment.  The church here does three one-day VBS's a year, one at Christmas, one at Easter, and one during the summer.
• Helped Louisa move to Moorhead and into her first apartment.  
• Egress window in basement done.

Besides that, I can say that we love our new church and our new members and our new community.  Just as each pastor is wonderful and challenging in his own way, and each pastor's wife and family, can be both a blessing and a challenge, so too each new home and community, and each of a pastor's calls presents it's own challenges and blessings.  We are still getting to know everything and everyone here and they are still getting to know us.  But in all things, God is good.

The summer has flown by, with getting settled, kids coming and going, Bible camp, visiting new members, and all the regular stuff like meals and laundry and cleaning toilets. And eating and preserving all the wonderful garden produce our new members and friends have provided for us.

We look forward to next Sunday attending the installation of Pastor Jeff Merseth as the new pastor of Clearwater Lutheran Parish.  Jeff and Megan and their kids are very dear to us, as are the members Joe formerly served, and among whom we lived and made a home for over 13 years.  We pray for all involved God's richest blessings, and many years of joy through this special temporal manifestation of the Communion of Saints.

A Saturday chock full of homework, cleaning, organizing, sorting, sanding, washing

I am always kind of slow on Saturday morning, letting the kids sleep late if they wish and just kind of relaxing myself.  But I had goals today.  I couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated when I saw how late is was when I finally got moving this morning.  But in spite of that, I feel like I did a good day's work. 

I started with the kids all sitting down to work on their make-up homework from our sick week.  Some of them focused better than others, but I had my head on my projects and didn't monitor them as well as perhaps I ought to have.  I think they all got some work done, though. 

After that I assigned them various tasks and took Inge, Donna, and John and sorted through their dressers.  An added bonus here is that my Louisa helped me with part of this.  It was nice to work with her.  We accomplished much straightening, but also pulling out clothes that were worn or too small.  We didn't get Stella's done, but there's always tomorrow.

I helped Louisa with some organizing in the room that will be for her and Elsie when they are home.  It had been just hers, but I've gradually moved much of Elsie's stuff in there and exchanged Louisa's twin sized bed for Elsie's full.  In general, when she came home for her weekends, it was becoming harder and harder to move around.  She knew where very few of her things had been put.  And she wanted to get it straightened up before Elsie came home for Christmas. 

So we moved Elsie's dresser into that room so that Louisa had room to put some of Elsie's things.  But first we had to sand the top, since the blond finish had gotten dried and cracked during the time Elsie used it.  We had also never gotten the mirror installed on it, so Joe did that, too.  I scrubbed Hannah Montana stickers, crayon, mascara, and who knows what all off the mirror.  Along with the blond finish that was cracked and crumbly, we scraped and sanded off glue, gum, wax, and other assorted build-up from the dresser surface.  Elsie can help re-finish it when she's home.  We might simply spray it with a coat of Krylon or Rust-o-leum; or we might actually redo the stain nicely and coat it with polyurethane. 

About the time I was considering which of my many waiting organizational tasks to tackle next, a friend called to see if we had an extra Christmas tree stand.  I thought we might, since we used to use one with our first artificial tree. 

"But it will take me awhile to find, if I do still have it."

And besides, I thought to myself, it's a good excuse to tackle the messed up confusion of Christmas stuff I have been ignoring and adding to each year for at least seven years. 

A few years ago, we stopped decorating the tree before Christmas.  With all our kids, and all the ornaments they get each year, we simply had too many ornaments.  We have been decorating the tree with lights only, and perhaps a purple ribbon for Advent.  As the kids are given ornaments, they add them to the tree.  And by the time the Christmas season is over, the tree is full.  We have been simply boxing up each years' ornaments and stashing the box in the mess.  And then we start fresh each consecutive year with another empty tree, just waiting for all the ornaments the kids will again be given.

Besides Christmas tree ornaments, as a pastor's family we seem to accumulate a large number of Christmas themed decorations.  Our members are very generous and each year bless us with many decorative gifts.  Way too many to put out each year.  And they too, sadly, tend to be used for one or two years, and then boxed and set in the confusion of the store room.  

But because of that, what used to be a somewhat, kind of well-organized gathering of boxes, has become instead an assorted mish-mash of bits and pieces of Christmas, packaged in small and large boxes, sitting pell mell on the shelves. 

At one time, each child had a box of Christmas ornaments.  Joe and I also had our favorites, some old and some new.   Gradually, we simply had too many to use.  We started by limiting each child to perhaps ten of their ornaments.  And then five.  And then three.  They could choose each year which ones they wanted to use, but each child could only put up the designated number of ornaments. 

Then even that got to be too many.  So we stopped that tradition.  I think it must have been about three years ago.  And since then we add only the new ones we get each year.  

So while looking for the tree stand, I took the time to go through EVERYTHING.  But still found no tree stand.

I sorted and organized.  I kept only the things I really liked, or were very special for sentimental reasons.  This was hard, since so many were gifts from members and we love all our members. 

But really, ... as nice as they are, how many nativity scenes can we use?  How many church shaped candles or light-up angels?  How many music boxes of Christmas carolers?  I'm sorry to say that after the first few years, I tend to just leave them boxed up.  By then I have a whole new supply from which to choose. 

And boxed up, they don't do anyone any good.  So I pulled out the nicest ones to give to second hand stores to share with others.  All of them have been enjoyed for at least a handful of years here and there.  But they do tend to accumulate. 

Just as with children's clothing, I've had to decide to weed out Christmas decorations, too.  And just as with the children's clothes, each has memories of those who've shared them with us.  Some reminded me of friends who have already continued on to heaven.  I found the beautiful snow globe I got from Mavis B. one year at the Ladies' Aid Christmas program.  I found the many crocheted ornaments Gladys H. did for our children. 

I packed away a whole box of things Joe's Grandma made for us or the kids; or things we got from among her things after she passed away.  These treasures I'll save for the kids when they have their own homes. 

After I got the kids ornaments organized, I ended up wtih:

• only found a couple of Jeremy's ornaments.  I don't know if he has the rest, or if they simply got tucked in a different corner. 
• Matt has two Currier and Ives tins like the ones Schwan's fills with ice cream at Christmas, plus a couple of things that didn't fit the tins.
• Louisa has two of the same tins plus a small box.  
• Elsie has one tin of that same size, and two the smaller size that short bread cookies come in.  Plus she had some other odds and ends that wouldn't fit in tins, so I found an extra large popcorn sized tin that fits her smaller tins plus her odds and ends. 
• Clara has a popcorn tin.
• Sophie has a popcorn tin.
• John has a small box.
• Stella has a Currier and Ives sized tin and a round tub similiar to what Lincoln Logs or Tinker Toys used to come in.
• Donna has a shoe box.
• Inge has a shoe box.

Besides that, Joe and I have shoe boxed sized box of our childhood and young adult ornaments. 

I ran out of steam before I got everything else repacked.  But I think I can get it down to:

• a box for lights and garland and ribbons.  
• a box for books and puzzles
• a box for larger things like candles and creches.
• and the Christmas tree itself.  

I also still have the foot locker with the things from our early married years.  I haven't had those things out in years.  I did open it to search for the Christmas tree stand, but no luck.  I pulled out a few things I thought others might enjoy.  Maybe next year I'll be ready to go through that one.
 I have three boxes of things to send to the thrift stores.  I think I'll save some of it for consignment next fall.  But most will simply end up at the charity variety of thrift stores. 

But alas!  Sorry, Alison, that we didn't save that tree stand.  After I was thinking about it, though, probably it would have been too small for a church sized tree anyway. 

What's that in the dryer?

meteorites?  rocks?  bubble gum?

Our dryer developed a nasty squeak over the last month.  At first it was only at the beginning of the cycle, until it got warmed up.  But gradually the squeak time lasted longer.  And louder.  Until finally this last week or so it was driving us batty.

So Joe decided it was time to take things into his own hands and see what he could see.

"You come, too, please.  I want to show you what's inside there so when I'm dead and gone you will be able to fix it yourself." 

"Hmmm."

I took my computer down with me, so that Joe would have handy access to various youtube videos and exploded view diagrams of the dryer innards.

But we were stymied right away.  Neither of us could remember how to get the top off.  We undid the screws on the back.  Joe thought the next step was the top, but how?  I thought the next step was the front, but how?  And at first glance the internet was not very forthcoming with the information we needed.  So I got back to my crochet and Joe did a little more searching. 

Joe was right.  The next step was the top.  When he had that off, he called me down.

"Can you bring the vacuum down here and clean this lint out for me?"

Joe saw right away at least one problem.  One of the plastic electrical connectors had melted at some point.  Yikes!  A striking proof of the providential protection of our Heavenly Father.

melted electrical connection

Joe went back to his pastor work while I cleaned out the lint.  It was indeed quite linty.  I found that reaching in and grabbing the handfuls worked better than the vacuum at first.

After I was done, I returned to my crochet.  Joe came back down to remove the front panel.

"Can you come down and get the next section cleaned out?"

Joe went back to his pastor work while I cleaned out more lint.  Handfuls and handfuls.  Some of it nicely felted.  Some of it simply thick pillows.

After I was done, I returned to my crochet.  Joe came down and took the drum out.

"Can you come down and get the next area cleaned out?"

I once again went downstairs and cleaned out lint.  This part was also a bit worrisome, since there was a thick layer of toasted lint on the back of the drum.  Another striking proof of the providential protection of our Heavenly Father.

When I was done with this, Joe came back down.  I did not return to my crochet, but stayed with Joe so that he could teach me all he knew about how this contraption works.  Then we took the drum itself apart to get the lint from all the nooks and crannies there.  We also took the little paddle things our of the inside of the drum, to clean inside of them.

All in all, we came up with about a dollar in change, a couple of foam ear plugs, several bobby pins, some candy wrappers, rubber bands, and a few other small gizmos.

And lots and lots of lint.  This photo is the big chunks that didn't get sucked into the vacuum.  It's hard to tell in this photo, but it fills a plastic grocery bag pretty much all the way.  Notice the toasted lint on top?  That's the part that was between the drum and the heating coil.

lovely bag full of dryer lint, including some nicely toasted

Joe put some grease on the bearing and the felt strip around the edge of the drum. 

He checked online to see about the melted electrical connection pieces and decided there was no place in town that would be likely to stock that variety.  But he's pretty good with electrical know-how, so he figured out a way to fix it without having to order anything.  But his wire cutter tool seems to have wandered off.  After making a few phone calls, Joe found one at Ryan N.'s.  He sent me over to get it while he returned to his pastor work. 

When I returned with the wire cutter, Joe said, "You come, too, please.  I want to show you how to do it so when I'm dead and gone you will be able to fix it yourself." 

Joe clipped melted pieces off, and stripped a scant half inch of plastic off the wires.  This part was a little tricky, since the plastic insulation near the melted connectors had also melted, and was stuck into the bundled copper wires underneath it.  But with some finagling, Joe worked them off.  Then he used one of those handy-dandy twisty cap things and put the wires back together without the plastic connector pieces.  He showed me how to do one wire at a time, so as to avoid reconnecting them wrongly.  He even let me twist one of them together.  But I did notice he kind of tugged on it after I was done to make sure it was going to stay.  I didn't notice him doing that to the one he twisted.

Then we put the dryer back together:  baring, drum, belt, front, top.  And we started it up. 

And still, it squeaked. 

Time to order some parts.  Joe found new bearing pieces online for about $35.  He thought the heating element looked kind of sketchy and that could be ordered for $90. 

That was getting close to the amount that causes one to ask if the repair is too costly.  We have a ten year old dryer.  A ten year old dryer originally estimated to last seven years.  And a ten year old dryer originally estimated to last seven years for an average sized family. 

And were there other parts that warranted replacing, too?  

Joe decided on soliciting a second opinion from Kyle  N. 

Good news!  Kyle thought every looked fine except the bearing.  Even the heating element.  Kyle is a tinkerer.  He knows such things.  What great news!  A striking proof of the provision of our Heavenly Father.

The most interesting things we pulled out of the dryer came from inside the paddle or fin things inside the drum.

The action of constant spinning combined with the shape of the inside of the fins seems to be conducive to creating unusual spheres of lint.   Mostly spheres, but also some other fun shapes. 

dryer detritus

in order of size 

What's on the counter?

Any guesses?

Room upset: Phases Two and Three

It's kind of hard to know where one of these phases starts and another one ends.  But here's the skinny.

Elsie's room in progress.

We have Elsie's room mostly emptied out.  We have a full sized mattress on the floor on which the littles are temporarily sleeping, since their former room is now the family room.  We left two dressers in there which Sophie and Stella may or may not use.  We can work around them for now. 

We have scrubbed from the ceiling and walls of the walk-in closet under the stairs a frightening black mural which Elsie called an owl.  And her representation of the wind, which I thought was the flames of hell from which various emaciated arms and hands reach out.  This mural was done on white paint in black paint.  Oh, and the paint was very thickly applied tempera paint. 

Sophie said, "I am NOT moving in down there until that haunted closet is fixed!"

I had bought a primer sealant to put over the black paint.  But.  Alas!  The thickly applied tempera simply smeared and smudged into the primer.  Spottily.

The owl on the slanting ceiling, the wind on the side wall.    I should add that Clara added the white heart when she was trying to see how the primer would coat.

Clara and I used about 20 buckets half full of soapy water to wash most of the tempera off.  It's not all off, as you can see.  But the smeary and smudgy part is removed to allow the primer to adhere and cover well.  I eventually got quite a system down.  I had two buckets of water and three rags.  I'd wet a small area of the tempera with one rag, totally soaking it.  I'd scrub that same area with the second rag.  I'd rinse those two rags in one bucket, and then repeat.  This left the water in one bucket totally saturated with black.  I'd then use the other bucket to do a thorough rinse, rinsing the black from the rag every few strokes.  By that time I'd need to dump the water and rinse the rags under running water.  And start again an another small area. 

Elsie, ... I know, I know.  You are an artist.  You inherited from your Dad the irrepressible urge to apply your artwork directly onto the walls.  You're probably too young to remember the Grecian Lady Dad put on his office wall in our house in Mankato.  But please, ... Do the J.'s a favor when you start feeling artistic while you're living in their home.  Use paper.  Oh, and in the future, ... when you do feel the need to do a wall mural, .. use acrylics.  Please.  It can be covered much more easily than can tempura. 

So, where was I?

Aha, the downstairs bedroom.  After the closet clean-up, it kind of took the wind out of our sails.  We got the edgework painted on the ceiling, but after that, the work has simply sat.  And waited.  I've been doing other things.  We had some church activities, John's birthday, and much catching up to do around the rest of the house.

But yesterday I finally got to some of the bigger projects once more.  I started to fold the heaps and mountains of clean but mostly unfolded laundry in the basement, in what is currently called our family room but really is just a catch all.  Boxes and bins and half sorted projects. 

I refolded and sorted several bins of bedding.  Blankets, sheets, pillow cases, car pillows, mattress pads, table clothes, etc, etc.  It's been sorted many times, but never completely put away.  With this many beds, it's a real challenge remembering which of the extra sets go on which beds.  I never know where to put it away.  And so it sits.  When someone needs a clean set, I send them down to the stacks, which are soon disrupted and askew.  The needed clean sheets or blankets are found eventually.  But the stacks and piles and bins gradually become less and less sorted and folded. 

I folded several loads of towels.  Since we recently got our Duane towels unpacked, I'm weeding through the older ones to see what's suitable to donate, what can be used for household rags, what can be passed on for shop rags, and what needs to go to the burn pile.  And then just the regular sorting that comes with four bathrooms and a kitchen.

What are Duane towels, you may ask?  Joe and I each had towels when we married.  We had also found a box of towels in one of the apts Joe lived in.  We got some towels for our wedding.  And about a week or two after we got married, one of our good friends brought us a case of towels.  Really.  From Sam's Club which was the latest new thing at that time.  Two of each of four colors and three sizes.   They were beautiful.  But with our already sufficient towel situation, and with our apartment living, we simply packed them away.

"We'll use them someday," thought I.  "It will be a treat to pull our these wonderfully plush and matching sets of towels somewhere down the line."  I recalled when I was young, with all the kids, it seemed like our towels were often a bit raggedy.

With the trend these days of people redoing their bathrooms somewhat frequently, we've also seemed to have a constant influx of really nice hand-me-down towels.  We've never had to break out the Duane towels.  After we moved up north here, anticipating much company coming to see us in the very sizable parsonage, I washed up that case of Duane towels and packed them away in an accessible tote bin to use for guests.  They've been used a few times.  But mostly they just sit.  We don't really get much company up in this remote area of the country.

And so it's time.  Joe and I just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.  It's time to break out the Duane towels.  They are so wonderful!  What a treat!

Getting back to yesterday's cleaning, however, after the towels were folded and sorted, I bagged up two big hefty bags of older throw pillows and afghans and throw blankets.  Somehow we get so very many of this sort of thing.  Nothing matches.  It's all soiled, torn, dated looking, worn.  Really, we don't need to hang on to all of this.  Oh, that felt good to get rid of some of that.

Ugh!  The mountain of laundry that remains.

By the time I was done with that and had only the regular laundry left to fold, the pile was substantially reduced.  The old mattress from Louisa's room has been leaning against the family room wall.  But more accurately it's gone through a steady repetition of me leaning it on the wall, the kids jumping and climbing on it, it sliding down the wall for further climbing and jumping.  And then I put it back up and the process starts again. 

"Why do this, Mary?

"Because it's going to be John's bed when we get this room fixed up." 

"Why don't you just clear out the corner of the room and put the mattress down and make it up into a bed?   He can sleep in it, and perhaps if it looks like a bed, it will be subjected to less jumping."

"Oh, novel idea, Mary!"

And so, after having this little talk with myself, I did just that.  I brought his mattress down from upstairs, too, from the walk-in closet he calls his bedroom while pining for a real room.

The one complete corner of John's new room

John has a nice little bed now, in the corner of the family room.  The walls were painted last spring, but I see they could probably use another coat already.  The carpet needs to be cleaned.  And the remaining laundry needs to be folded and gotten out of there.  Then we'll arrange dressers and shelves in such a way to offer him some privacy.  It's hard to be the only young boy among the seven girls.  The other two boys are so much older, John often feels like he has no brother.  And he kind of tends to get tucked into whatever space is available. 

John's closet room

Bedroom Hallway

Entry Hallway

Rooms Upset: Phase One

Inge showing off all our work

Our house is getting a face-lift.  Mostly our room arrangement is being redone.  And with that, comes new paint and hopefully clean carpets for those areas.  Ideally we'll also end up with a better organized home and an easier time keeping it up, which will further (again, ideally) lead to more contented children.

I didn't take any before photos.  It's just way ... too .... well, choose your ending.
❑ frightening
❑ embarrassing
❑ shameful
❑ other (please specify)  ___________________________________

But let your imagination run wild.  We're coming off 17 years of the constant pregnancy and lactation cycle.  Ten years of homeschooling full time.  During those times we had several infusions of additional household goods and miscellany, due to cleaning out the homes of several family members.

All of the above description was followed by over two years of a somewhat severe depressive episode during which theMom did little but sit.  Or sleep.  Or play spider solitaire.

Intermixed and intermingled with all of that is a family of ten children.  Ten busy and creative and perhaps destructive children.  (And how is it that creative and destructive so often go hand in hand?)

Picture months of grit and grime.  Months of disorder and chaos.  When I moved the beds, there was a twelve inch "decorative" border of dirty footprints, handprints, and saliva dripmarks.  When the Mr. Clean Magic Sponge doesn't touch the grime, ... well, ... that's just plain gross.

Other areas had fancy detailing of fingernail paint, crayon, pencil, super glued paper projects, and mounting tape, among other things.  There were a few areas of handy tack and/or booger sculptures and in still other areas, images carved into various surfaces in relief. 

Did I say chaos?  Empty bins.  Bins filled with the wrong things.  Some bins and boxes filled with everything and anything.  Colorful origami projects.  And colorful origami scraps.  School papers carefully saved from last year and now scattered about, as I predicted they would be.

Beads from making and taking apart jewelry.  Beads from disemboweling beanie babies.

Barbie hair.  Stuffed animal hair.  My little pony hair.  Little girl hair.

Chewing gum containers.  Ring pop rings.  Straws.  Tootsie pop wrappers.

Lip gloss.  Fingernail polish.  Hair bands.  Plastic shape bracelets.

OK, I'm done now.  I'm sure there was more, but I got most of it off my chest.

We have three two bedrooms that are to change occupants, and a bedroom to turn into a family room.  And a family room to change into a bedroom.  And much other cleaning and sorting and organizing.  And of course, normal life and meals and laundry and etc.

Here's stage one. 

The little three littlest girls are currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor of Elsie's room.  Their dressers line our hallways until we get the room currently serving as Sophie and Clara's bedroom ready for them.  Their former room has been mostly cleaned up to make our new family room.

I still have to wash the window, find some sort of curtains at the local second hand stores, create some arm covers for the well-used couch out of the curtains I took off the windows, sand some ... some, ... something from the back of the door, paint the closet, reinstall closet doors, and finish organizing storage space.

But!

I think it looks wonderful already.  I'm so very excited.  No more TV in the living room.  No more sweaty bodies on my nicer furniture and no more dirty feet on my new living room carpeting.  Newly painted walls.  All those things I have yet to do, ... they can wait until deep winter.

One room prettied up.  Aaaaaaahhhhhhh.  That's a sigh of contentment.

Next it's on to moving Elsie's things into Louisa's room and making that room into Sophie and Stella's.

~ ~ ~ ~
This little addendum is just my geekiness feeling pleased with how nice these toy bins look up high.  Not just that they are out of reach, although that's a bonus.  But I like that they're all lined up so nicely.  I like the names on the boxes.  A little snippet of life.  A little morsel of what boys and girls in the two thousand teens play with:  Little People, Cars, Princesses and Ponies, Beanie Babies, Barbies, Dress-up.

Detective Mom and the Mysterious Case of the Missing Beans

Earlier this week I had to clean out the chest freezer a bit to have room to flash freeze the blueberries.  One of the things I removed at the time was a baking dish full of refried beans. 

Periodically during the course of the week, I have wondered what I did with those beans. 

They certainly are not in the upstairs fridge. 

The question that kept tickling in the back of my mind was, "Did I put the beans in the basement fridge or leave them sitting somewhere within arms' reach of the chest freezer?" 

About a day after I took them out, I remembered them.  "Oh, good thing I remembered them now, thought I.  "They will still be thawing and therefore useable." 

But at the time I had this thought, my hands were occupied with fixing that days' supper. 

"John, run to the basement and see if you can find a baking dish of refried beans anywhere."

John looked at me as if to ask, "The basement's a pretty big place, Mom.  Anything more specific."

So I continued, "It would either be in the basement fridge, or sitting among the heaps and boxes and shelves nearby."

and then I immediately forgot about it. 

Until later that night.  "John, what did you find out about those beans?" asked I.

"They aren't anywhere, Mom." 

"Hmmm," thought I.  "Hopefully they are in the fridge and he just didn't recognize them as beans."

and then I immediately forgot about it. 

Until yesterday.  I remembered them briefly at some point in the afternoon, but not long enough to check on them. 

This morning, I checked myself.  I wanted to use the missing beans for supper and was so hoping I'd find them in the fridge. 

With a little bit of fear and trepidation, I opened the fridge. 

No beans.

"Perhaps I put them back in the freezer," I thought, still feeling somewhat hopeful.

With a little bit of fear and trepidation, I opened the freezer.

No beans. 

With much fear and trepidation, I scanned the the heaps and boxes and shelves nearby.  No beans did I find. 

By that time, I confess, I was a bit frantic.  Where in the basement would I find a baking dish of spoiling beans?  And more worrisome yet, when?  How long would they sit spoiling before I happened on them in some strange and mysterious nook or cranny?

In one last desperate attempt to find the beans, I turned to the further side of the room. 

And there they sat.  Among the painting stuffs.  Balanced carefully atop the Blueberry Grove semi-gloss. 

And balanced smoothly atop the beans, the somewhat discolored film of some unidentified colonization.

Goals for a busy time

Much to do and not much energy or focus.  With that in mind, ...

Today

• get dressed, brush teeth and hair
• get BL money in the mail
• get homeschool girls up and rolling
• switch wash load
• fold clean clothes
• dishes
• sweep and mop kitchen
• finish sorting games and puzzles
• pick up living room
• vacuum living room
• plan and start supper
• prepare tomorrow's errand lists
• reward: coke with break if I make enough progress by 3:00 pm

Tomorrow

• sweep and mop hallways
• wash bathroom window
• wash living room windows
• wash dining room windows 
• run TRF errands for confirmation stuff
• reward: treat in town if we get morning household chores done before we leave

Before graduation

• kids bedrooms cleaned up
• family room painted
• garage cleaned
• flower beds cleaned up
• yard cleaned up

My OODA loop is broken

I finally have it figured out!  Just exactly what part of my psyche is flawed.  It's my OODA loop.

So yesterday I was in the room as Matt was working on some of his MCIs, ie, mandatory homework/continuing education for the Marines.  I suddenly heard something that made sense.  The normal process of getting things done, staying on top of things, that everyone does, has name and even a lesson for it when you're in the Marines. 

I wasn't sure if this was classified or if it would be disrespectful to write about it, so I did some checking and apparently it's a term that's used widely in the military and even in the civilian commercial and corporate world.  So I guess it's OK to talk about it. 

What's this big super secret discovery?

The OODA Loop

Observe, Orient, Decide, Act and then, Do it again.

We all do it all day long to accomplish our various tasks and responsibilities.  Except I don't anymore. 

My OODA loop is broken.

I can sometimes observe, orient, and decide.  Every once in awhile I can even act. 

More often, though, things get plugged up in my brain between the orient and decide steps.  Especially since this, call it what you will, depression/burnout/adrenal fatigue thing I struggle with started, I just get all muddled. 

I've always had trouble with easily feeling overwhelmed.  I used to be a perfectionist.  So in kind of a spirit of fear, I'd get everything all planned out and then never act on it, because I just knew I'd never get it right. 

But God cured me of perfectionism long ago.  He gave me my first child and then another and another and another.  Kind of a PN loop.  Pregnant, Nursing, and then Do it again thing.  He blessed us so richly with so many children, that simply the busyness of family life cured me of any residual perfectionist tendencies. 

And I survived and even at times thrived during that time. 

But somewhere along the line, the thriving kind of went by the wayside and eventually even the surviving was questionable. 

Obviously we're still here, so apparently we've survived.  But I'm very sure we've not thrived.  But that's where, as I've written many times before, the reliance upon God and His promises, the most important of which is His eternal Grace for our broken natures, comes into play most vividly.  Simply put, we don't thrive in this world without God's grace.  But His power is shown perfect because of our weaknesses.

But I digress.  OODA loop.  I get stuck.  Muddled.  Clogged. 

I can see everything that needs to be done.  But most of the time I can no longer arrange things in my head to know how to tackle anything. 

The orient and decide part of my OODA loop quit working somewhere along the line. 

I can grab a quick job and get it done.  I can do the immediate things pressing on me.  I can do the things my kids or husband ask me to do.  (At least most of the time.)  I can even put in a good day's work if I'm with a group of people, such as down at church working for something.

But for me to maintain my focus, mental acuity, and physical stamina on my own, for any length of time, ... that's what gets me at this point in my life. 

Some days are worse than others.  Some days I have to coax myself out of bed and to just put in an appearance as a Mom. 

Other days I can set a few easy goals that I may or may not accomplish. 

Sometimes I can make long term plans and goals, but they are never suitable.  There's always something else of the more immediate that pops up and changes things.  And in a properly working OODA loop, that's OK.  Because of the loop feature.  The constantly reevaluating and readjusting all the plans.  And doing it quickly enough to still decide and act.

I used to have the flexibility, the mental agility, to continue the loop.  But not any more. 

I simply react to the things that come at me with no forethought or planning. 

And it leaves my family and sometimes others in the community, in the lurch.

At least now I have a quantifiable way of describing the difficulty.  Somehow it seems comforting to know that it's just my OODA loop.  Drat.

Ask a man to clean, ...

I love fried foods.  LOVE.  But I hate the greasy mess, and so I rarely fry anything.  Joe, however, loves to make fried things.  Deep fried anything.  Fried rice.  Pretty much fried anything. 

I don't complain.  Really, I don't.  I love it. 

But as I was scrubbing the greasy walls and stove today, I asked him if he'd mind doing under the stove hood.  I took off the filter and soaked it in some Watkins Degreaser.   And he said he'd do the rest. 

I hate doing it because of the crazy angle one needs to stand/stoop/bend to use elbow grease to clean the frying grease. 

Joe solved it his own way. 

I did offer to flip the circuit breaker when I saw him unscrewing the little wire connector cover things.  I want to keep him around awhile longer. 

The Tale of the Run-away Pants

It happened once in a a land far away that a busy, stay-at-home mom indulged herself by purchasing, (brand spanking new, even) a pair of black dress pants.  This pair of pants, a small thing to some, helped boost her spirits at a difficult time.  On several occasions, she even got compliments (!!!) on her looks while wearing them.

School conferences, school programs, funerals, even evening church services ... This busy stay at home Mom no longer had to choose between a skirt or her grubby stay-at-home-mom-jeans.  She finally had something in-between to wear for those in-between occasions.  A strange and unusual phenomenon. 

And so she wore those pants. 

About five times.

Until they disappeared.  Really.  Poof they were gone.

Poor woman  No more in-between outfit.  No more compliments.

But summer was coming on, which meant several things for this woman.  The warmer weather and end of the school year meant fewer in-between occasion.  The summer vacation from school and the family's outdoor work and pleasure meant piles of laundry backing up inside.

"When I catch up on all those piles of laundry," thought the tragic heroine, "I'll surely find those naughty pants."

But alas!  Fall came and with it a return to normal schedules and normal household routine.  The laundry heaps slowing disappeared.  But the pants did not return.  They had apparently run off to seek their fortune in a new locale. 

And so the poor, busy, stay-at-home-mom spent another winter attending various in-between type functions either over- or under-dressed.

Until day by day, snowstorm by snowstorm, throughout the cold and blustery weather, the winter passed.  Slowly the days lengthened.  Slowly the temperatures warmed and the snows receded.

Finally, when spring was fully come, the woman spent a frightening and somewhat dangerous week helping her nearly grown son clean his room before he left home to join the military.  Oh, the things she found!  The monsters that reared their ugly heads from the canyons and mountains of her son's room!

In one of the deep, dark recesses of the room, while fighting dragons and saving the local maidens, her son happened upon the missing pants. 

Together with her son, the mother rejoiced in this happy event.  Parties were thrown.  That which was lost had been found!

Throughout the summer months, this mom wore her pants.  Not often, since the summer days and schedule were upon her.  She looked forward with pleasure to the coming fall and winter in-between occasions when she could again wear her nice dress pants and get compliments on her looks. 

But before those days came, those vexing pants once again ran off.  They were nowhere to be found.  The laundry heaps disappeared.  The rooms were cleaned.  All the usual hiding places were examined.  But to no avail!  The mom even braved the not quite so deep, dark and daunting mountains and canyons that had again begun creeping into her son's room.  Just in case those pants were drawn back to their previous abode.

So once again, the tragic heroine spent another fall and winter attending various in between type functions either over- or under-dressed.  Poor, poor woman.

But day by day, snowstorm by snowstorm, throughout the cold and blustery weather, the winter passed.  Slowly the days lengthened.  Slowly the temperatures warmed and the snows receded.

When spring was fully come, the woman's husband spent a frightening and somewhat dangerous afternoon cleaning his dresser drawers to make room for all the folded clothing his wife had despaired of putting away for lack of space.  Oh, the things he found!  The monsters that reared their ugly heads from the canyons and mountains of his dresser drawers!

Until finally, in one of the deep, dark recesses of the dresser, while fighting dragons and saving the local maidens, her husband happened upon the missing pants.  And wonder of wonder, the black pants had with them a pair of khaki pants.  Being of a slightly smaller size, these khaki pants had not been missed by the busy (and somewhat overweight) woman.

And so the woman rejoiced once again.  Parties were thrown.  That which was lost had once again been found! 

But alas!  The woman was hesitant to even try on the black pants for fear they would no longer fit.  And so her joy was tempered with sadness and frustration.

The moral of this story?  Don't buy new pants.  Even if you like the compliments.  They are crafty beings who tend to run off and hide for months at a time.

Afterword:  The return of the pants might be just the thing this poor, busy, stay at home mom needs to get herself in gear to lose those extra pounds she's carrying around.  Perhaps by fall, when once again the in-between occasions show up on the schedule, perhaps by then, our tragic heroine can once again wear her in-between pants and get compliments on her looks.

Next time, Matt, go to the base tailor shop

Finished product

I concede defeat.  I don't do that very often.  But either my skill level, or the quality of my thread, or my machine, ... the whole sewing stripes on according to procedure, well, ... I'm honored to do it for my son.  I'm honored that he chooses to serve in the USMC. 

The following is not meant in any disrespect to Matt's service, the service or others, or the Marine Corps itself.  But just considering a wise or foolish use of time, ... those military tailors can probably do a better job in a much shorter amount of time. 

Start with the uniforms.  Matt's hoping to get promoted to Lance Corporal soon, so he doesn't want to sew the stripes on all his uniforms.  But for Easter church, he wants to dress up and that means stripes.

Matt's Charlie shirt, sans stripes

Matt's Private First Class stripes

Finding the right thread

According to MCO P1020.34F  MARINE CORPS UNIFORM REGULATIONS, "Insignia will be   sewn on garments with thread that matches the background material of the insignia using a straight machine stitch. No other style of stitching will be used."

And according to the following diagram, the insignia is to be 4" beneath the shoulder seam and centered on the sleeve. 

Deep breath, Mary, you can do this. 

"Which way to they go, Matt?"  I know that I should no this.  I mean, how many times have I watched military related movies or seen things about the Marine Corps, right?  I should know this.  But even something so simple, I feel clueless. 

"Which way?"  "MOM!"

 "Mom, don't disrespect the uniform."

Finally I had them pinned and the correct color of thread chosen.  I had tested out the machine to make sure it was operational. 

But do you think I could get it to work right on Matt's stripes?  Nope.  At each of the pointy corners, because of the way the stripes are constructed, there are about four layers of cloth, plus the little shiny plastic backing.  And my thread broke every time I got near the corners. 

I did eventually get them on.  I worked on them for about 45 minutes.  But I advised him to take them elsewhere to be put on properly next time.  Because, sadly, the little pointy parts were probably not on very securely.

I really wanted to do this for my son. 

"I can take them into Oklee quilting, Mom, and they can probably do it."

"No, no, Matt.  I can do that.  No problem."

There must be a super secret military grade thread the use or something.  Or maybe it's their magic Marine Corps touch.  But whatever it is, there are others who can do the job more efficiently than can I.  Sigh.

New Carpet Day in the Parsonage

Before.  Ugh!

This is the view (shameful isn't it?) of our outgoing carpet.  I always hated having to move the furniture because then I could see, really, really see, just how dirty and stained and worn and generally icky our carpet was.  I suppose ten kids who use our rug with might and main, over the course of twelve years does wear carpeting, but still.  It's embarrassing.  I've had others point out that normal wear and tear is considered to be an average sized family, and so we shouldn't feel so bad that nothing seems to last as long for us.  But I still feel like our twelve person wear and care seems so destructive of these many temporal blessings.

This is the view of our wonderful new carpet.  And Inge and Sophie enjoying the big open space.  Inge asked, "Mom, can you take a picture of me dancing on it?" 

New!  Beautiful!

I know, you can't really see the carpeting very well here.  But it's a short shag kind of plush, with glints of taupe, slate gray, and cream.  I wish I could find a thumbnail of it on the internet, but I can't.  But you can still see how nice it looks compared to the old one.

This is what the rest of our house looked like today.

The front hallway.

The dining room.  We kept a clear spot with seating for four on one bench on the far side of the second table. 

The bedroom hallway.

The little girls' room.

This afternoon, Sophie, Inge and I rushed off to the K-3 school program and got to watch all the cute littles doing their thing.   After such afternoon programs, we are able to bring all the kids home with us, so we anticipated a nice long afternoon.  We'd be home by 3:30, as opposed to the bus bringing the kids at 5:00. 

On the way home, I explained/exhorted/plead with the kids, "There's new carpet.  Everything is still all over the house.  You may play and jump and run in the empty living room for a few minutes, but I want you to enjoy your long afternoon by spending part of it outside.  DO NOT make a mess or forts or dig through all the things stacked in all the strange places."

But upon arrival home, I found my exhortations largely unnecessary.  My lovely husband; my wonderful daughter, Clara; and son, Matt, after he got home from his long day of work, had moved everything back into it's spot for us.  Only the odds and ends boxes on the kitchen table remained.  What a treat!

Here is where we found Joe when we got home.  Kicking back in front of the virtual fire.  Resting his tired bones.  He told the kids to go warm up their hands. 

Joe, enjoying the new carpet.

But now my furniture looks so grubby. Human nature. Sadly, it's common to us all.

Spring Cleaning 2014

Sometimes I'm organized with my own chores. 

Sometimes I'm organized with my kids' chores.

Sometimes I'm not organized at all.

Sometimes I can't think past each afternoon.

This winter has been one of those times.

I knew, for instnce, in the back of my mind, that in the last month or so,I had two soup suppers for Lent, a baptism church dinner to which I had to bring a GF dessert, and cole slaw to mix up for the electrical co-op annual dinner.  Of those things I've mostly kept the plates spinning, except for the cole slaw which I forgot to mix up and the ladies down at church had to do it for me at the last minute.  Thanks to whoever had to do the extra work.  And my apologies.

I also know in the back of my mind that I have one more soup supper to do; prom coming up, for which Louisa and Elsie have asked me to host the group of friends for lunch and pictures before they go into Oklee.  Within one week in May, I have Clara's confirmation, winkel at Oak Park, and Louisa's graduation. 

The parish board is getting us new carpeting in the living room sometimes soon, so will have the ensuing busyness with that.  And Lana has offered to help with some more painting this spring, if we can work it in. 

I know these things are coming, but when I am at a point at which I can barely handle meals and laundry for the family, ... the extra things get squeezed to the back of my brain.  I know they are there.  And I try to throw everything together at the last minute to accomplish such things.  But I don't always make it.

Today, I took some time to get my head on straight for the coming busyness.  I wrote down all the extra and bigger cleaning type things I want the kids and I to work on in the next several weeks, along with some of the regular-keeping-up-with type things that sometimes get set aside when I'm in one of my low energy states that leave us all flying by the seats of our pants.

For the sake of accountability, I'm going to post it here.

Looks kind of funny squished out long and thin, but it gets the point across.  The kids will be asked to initial those things they accomplish. 

Mudroom bathroom	Main bathroom	kitchen	Dining room	Living room
pick up	pick up	Pick up, sweep, mop	Pick up, sweep, mop	Pick up, vacuum
sweep	sweep	Wipe outside bottom cupboards	Clean and dust inside glass cupboard	dust
Wash counter	Wash counter	Wipe outside top cupboards	window	Wash walls, and hallway walls, front door
Wash toilet	Wash toilet	Clean inside lazy Susan	Scrub walls	Wash windows
Wash walls	Wash shower	Straighten coffee cup and water bottle cupboard	Wipe map	Fix wall behind wooden couch
Mop	mop	Wash and arrange inside silverware drawer	Scrub table legs	Paint wooden couch
Mirror	mirror	Wash and arrange inside utensil drawers- label	Repaint benches	Put pads on back of wooden couch
Toilet paper supply	Toilet paper supply	Sort utensil baskets	Scrub chairs	Order new cushions for wooden couch
Clean towels	Clean towels	Clean /arrange inside upper cupboards	Glue chair	New cushion covers for new cushions for wooden couch
Towel supply	Towel supply	Wipe outside upper cupboards		Move TV to family room
Wash outside of cupboard	Wash outside of cupboard	Scrub wall above counter		Paint shelf
Wash both sides of door	Wash both sides of door	Scrub counter	hallway
	Wash walls	Wash behind oven	Wash walls
		window	Wash front door
		Clean oven	Paint dresser
		counter
		Sort arrange tupperware cupboard
		Sort arrange baking dish cupboard

Wish us well, friends.