I woke up this Good Friday morning to snow. What part of this is Spring, doesn't Old Man Winter understand? While Spring is not always my favorite time of the year, I do look forward to the end of the dirty snow and cold weather we get in March. Only this is now April, Sunday is Easter and it's going to be arriving in the midst of below normal cold weather and above normal snow totals. Today it's 27 degrees out there, with wind.



I can remember the days when I wore patent leather shoes, pretty Easter dresses and hats without having to wear a winter coat. I can remember when there was no snow on the ground when I went hunting for eggs at Grannies. I can remember going to church without wearing boots. I can't remember it being this cold and snowy at Easter.



Last week we had temperatures that were near 60 with sunshine and blue skies. Now we have snow, cold and gray skies. Hopefully this will be the last gasp of Winter, and spring will soon be on it's way in earnest. Then I will enjoy the daffodils, tulips, azaleas, daisies and lilacs that Spring will bring. I am so impatient for the flowers to start blooming that I'd even settle for dandelions. At least they are yellow.

Working in the office for the past week has been a rude awakening for me. I've tried very hard not to be judgemental, but sometimes you see things and just can't help it. I'm never going to understand why the one boss does not understand how much is riding on his refusal to pitch in and do what needs to be done. Everyone else in that office is pulling their weight, and his whole attitude is one of "I didn't volunteer for that job", yet he is the one with the know how to do it. Most of the time he comes in at 11 and leaves at 2:30pm. Today he was there when I arrived shortly after 9. I had hopes that he was possibly going to accept some responsibility for something, but he expects me to do it, he's there to help. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

I'm there to do the hardest part, which is the compilation of the figures. Once that's done, the figures must be placed on a form and signed off on and mailed, or e-mailed to the correct New York State department. He's refusing to do even that much. It caused a serious and loud argument in front of everyone today. After all my hard work, which will be done on Monday, the final step may not get done. This hasn't been easy for me, I'm a word person not a number person. I spend hours hunting for each individual mistake. I'm doing the absolute best I can to complete my share of the job, only to hear..."I'm not going to do it."

I have a Father who isn't doing well. There are things that need to be done for my step-mom so that she can take care of herself the way she should. He's not supposed to be left alone, because he has become too debilitated since the last trip to the hospital. He has given up, and won't do anything for himself, so my step-mother has to do everything. He's rude and abusive to her, his physical condition is such that he really needs assistance and he refuses to allow her to help him. Which of course makes more work for her because he makes such a mess. Oddly, if one of the boys tells him to stop it, he will. I don't think that this abuse is new. I suspect, knowing the kind of human being my Dad really is, that this abuse is what she's put up with for 42 years. She had little understanding of my Mom's inability to handle this kind of behavior, which is why they were divorced after 14 years. Now she's having to put up with it 24/7 and it's become a different story.

I don't understand that, because his mother was a woman who was respected and loved by many. Over the years, I've met many many people who after conversing with me about one thing or another will ask me if I was Ada's granddaughter. These people who had contact with her of some kind have remembered her long after she was gone. Yet neither of her sons have any respect for women. I do wonder at times if it's because she worked so hard at keeping a spotless house even with a full time job, that none of us measure up. Frankly, as husbands and fathers, neither of her son's measured up. That's a good post for another day. When I have more time.

Despite the fact that this survey I'm doing may not ever get fully completed, I don't feel that gives me an excuse to do any less than my best. I have been asked to help, which is what I've been doing. The other aspects of this problem are not my concern, these are the company owners and they need to resolve this issue among themselves. They need to work past the finger pointing and the accusations, and decide what needs to be done and who is best suited to do it. Hopefully they will be able to resolve these issues for the good of the company.

My Dad and step-mom also need to resolve their issues, and stop trying to drag me into the middle. I will do what I can to the best of my ability, but I too have responsibilities. I have a husband, a business, plus my place of employment to contend with. I will gladly share the burden of his care, when I can, and I will do the best I can do for them. They need to make peace with the facts of their lives the way they are now, and to stop complaining that things aren't the way they used to be. My brothers need to step up and do their best to share in the responsibilities as well. Our father is going to die, and he is a burden on their mother. It's time to stop saying..."I'm not going to do it."

We are now officially in Pothole Season in NY State. The daily commute is now fraught with the danger of flat tires, bent rims and in some cases damaged axles. It's a joy trying to figure out the best way to avoid the new pothole that sprung up overnight. Do you drive on the sidewalk? Do you cause a head-on collision? Do you take a chance and drive through it? Decisions, decisions. According to the laws, if damage occurs, the town or city has to reimburse you the cost of repairs. That's only IF they are made aware of the pothole... in writing. When they are made aware of the condition, it is usually filled until a more permanent patching can take place, but until someone accepts the responsibility of reporting it...in writing, we are on our own should we lose something.

This morning will see a stop, made by me, to the highway department of one of the local cities I drive in with a letter reporting Potholes that have been there for 5 days without getting filled. I wrote the letter last night, shortly after Hubby replaced the bent rim on my car with a new rim. It was bent just enough last Friday, when I had to drive through a pot hole on my travels, to cause a soft tire condition. I will report it, in writing, because without realizing it had done any damage, I reported it last Friday...by phone and the potholes are still there. Three days of soft tire in the morning, which necessitated additional air in order to get me on the way, appears to have been cured by the rim change. Tire is fine this morning. Pothole was still there as of yesterday, so my phone call did nothing to help me, or anyone else for that matter. I don't see why it was such a problem. Pot hole was reported...by phone, but reported nonetheless. Why do they have to have it in writing before they attempt to do anything about it? Apparently this question was weighing heavily on my mind last night.

I had a dream that I lost my house and much of my neighborhood into a pothole. I suppose it should rightfully be called a sink hole, but it was a dream, who cares? In my dream, after much shuddering and rumbling an entire city block sunk into the earth. Transformers caught on fire, gas mains ruptured and the entire area looked as I imagine an earthquake torn area must look. Since this was my dream, and therefore unfolded according to my priorities, my place of employment dissappeared and I lost my cat. In the dream I was devastated, truly heartbroken. Other company employees were rushing around trying to save data necessary to our jobs. I, on the other hand, was outside combing through the brush looking for my cat. Then something woke me up.

It was at that time I realized that the cat was fine, sleeping peacefully curled up between Hubby and me near the foot of the bed. Poor thing, I woke her up. As I laid back down to go back to sleep I also realized something else. Since this was all a dream, that meant that not only were the potholes still going to be there, but so was my place of employment. Oh well, I can at least try to do something about the potholes.

I've been tagged again. Donna, from In Deep Thought left me her greeting. I figure I must have a few more quotes running around that I can use. Besides, it will do us all good not to hear about how tough I'm finding my latest assignment.

1. When it came to birthdays and Christmas gifts both my Mom and I were like kids. Well, I was the kid, I don't know what her excuse was. Anyway we would ask my Grandmother what she was going to buy us as a gift. She came from German stock and while not able to speak much German she always answered us with a German phrase. I don't know how it's spelled so I'll just give the translation here. She used to tell us we were getting "Silver nothings, and golden wait awhiles".

2. I don't ever remember Grandma saying that people were strange, but whenever I was unsure how to take someone she would respond by saying "Everyone is crazy, except thee and me, and frankly I'm not too sure about thee".

3. Both Grandma and Grannie were always admonishing me to be careful about the company I chose to keep. They both used the same quote too. That would be "When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas."

4. Grannie was not one to tolerate gossip in her house, if you participated you were likely to be told to "Engage the brain before putting the mouth in motion."

5. Grannie was an immaculate housekeeper, but there were times when I think all that work got to her. She had a full time job, and did all the cooking, cleaning and laundry. She was from the old school who had spotless highly polished floors which were accomplished on her hands and knees. Grandpa as lord of the manor usually sat on his throne in the living room ordering this and that for his comfort. She never complained, but one time she told me that when I looked for a husband I should remember that it was "Better to be an old man's darling than a young mans slave."

I am not tagging anyone this time around, only 2 of the ones I tagged last time have participated. With the type of basic commonsense upbringing I had, I definitely know when to quit while I'm ahead, or at least in this case not that far behind.

Things I've learned today will stick with me the rest of my life, because they were learned the hard way. I'm not complaining, it wouldn't do me any good. I am so grateful for my Mothers love of reading. It was something she passed on to me and I must say it was a trait worth it's weight in gold today. If it weren't for my ability to read and comprehend, I wouldn't be anywhere near as far along in this task as I am. Well, I'm far enough along to be content with my progress and that is no thanks to the people in the office. They have no clue how this is supposed to be done. They also were getting a chuckle at the quiet cursing they could hear emanating from the office I'm using. All these entries and numbers are really frustrating. I did find that judicious use of highlighters in assorted colors helped identify the mistakes I made. They have 8 different colors in the office and I believe I've used every one.

The state wants to know how many clients we have, how they were referred to us, and how are the services being paid for. Then they want to know what level of care is being provided, which counties are involved, and the number of hours we are billing each agency in each county. They want to know how many hours are being billed in what age groups and at what level of care. Now you have to understand that we provide nursing services, Home Health Aides, Personal care aides, and Housekeeping, in 9 different counties from 5 offices. Every bit of this is tedious work which requires going over and over your work until it all matches. That is where I found that highlighters are worth every penny you pay for them. If every miniscule bit is highlighted in a different color according to level of care and then age, it's much easier to find the missing piece. Which is a good thing because I'm on my own.

There are some things that I can figure out if I study it long enough, but I can't figure it out if it isn't there for me to look at which I found to be the case with just one entry, otherwise I'd have one office done. Oh well, it will get taken care of tomorrow when the computers are up and running, and then it's on to office number two. I better tell them the yellow highlighter is running out of ink, I'm going to need it.