Bless my quiet house

With my son and granddaughter now in residence at the Bar B, it’s far from quiet but it’s heaven when compared to work.

My work is incredibly noisy. Bells, whistles, alarms, conversations, doors opening and closing, the beep of the card reader, the click of the keyboard. After a day of that, my ears are exhausted.

Stupid questions are almost harder than the electronic noise. “What’s the name of that guy in the basement?” “Can I use the stairs?” ‘Can I make a phone call?” Where’s (fill in the blank with whatever ridiculousness you like)? “Where’s my mattress?” “Can I leave my pee here?”

Well, That’s Fantastic.

I get texts all day long. I get phone calls from friends. The vet wants to talk about Nina’s new medicine. Someone needs something/someone picked up. The dentist wants to change my appointment. The mammogram place wants to x-ray my boobs. Amazon wants feedback on shipping packaging. Martha Beck tells me how to live my best life. NPR tells me to be careful of hotdogs. The cats want fed. Somebody has a problem that needs fixed.

People in my work culture love to interrupt. They don’t give it a second thought. When I first started to work at the paper, I interrupted a conversation between the editor and assistant editor and they looked at my like I had two heads.

Up here, it’s the sound of the wind in the trees, the sound of tires on the distant road, crows on the wing, info-mercials on DirecTV.

Three people with different media tastes live in this house; Netflix, Hulu Plus, Amazon Prime all offer a huge variety of crap to watch since I got rid of DirecTV after a $410 bundled bill in February. I told them when I canceled the service, it’s not that I’m unhappy with the service, it’s that they can charge me whatever they want, when they want. The rep was entirely compassionate: “You don’t think you’re getting a refund, do you?”

I also got tired of paying for such info-mercials as “Brazilian Butt Lift” or “Magic Bullet” or the “World’s Most Amazing Mop.” Scroll down the menu and it’s a world of shit you don’t need that you’re paying good money to look at each time you flip on TV.

Today, no problem-o. No DirecTV-O at the Bar B.

I couldn’t go completely TV-free so I bought Amazon Fire at $99 and a cheap TV and it’s simple and easy to use. I love it and that is all.

Not that there’s much time for TV these days; no media until homework is done and my granddaughter is an A-class procrastinator. Weeks can go by without a single night of TV because she’d rather fiddle than watch.

Even more special are the nights when we all sit together and watch a movie. The norm is that every one plugs into their electronic devices for a short time each evening, long enough to defrag after the busy-ness of school and work. I have mixed feelings about this development in families today but I like the fact that the loud, battle-riddled movies Paul likes doesn’t have to mix with Mariah’s new obsession, “Lost” and my love of the BBC’s “Cabin Pressure.”

Friday nights are special because Paul and Mariah go on a skate-date in disco-land every weekend and they take the party somewhere else. My son is an incredible skater and Mariah is a faithful disciple. They depart for thumping music and that particular sound of roller skate wheels on polished floors.

I cook a lot more with a full house. The sound of clanking pots and bacon in the pan. Lasagna, my famous fried potatoes, roast chicken, garlic and chicken pasta, eggs cracking and the sound of foil as it wraps around breakfast burritos.

There’s a hamster in the house now. Felix is dull, a black and white rat on a wheel and his wheels squeaks and clicks all night long.

There’s new sounds: The sound a Peach 99 cap makes when it’s twisted off, cheap cigarette lighters, the clunk of big shoes when they hit the floor by the front door. There’s child’s laughter at funny You Tube videos and the shpiel of Fizz! Buzz! Have a banana!

Sssshhhh. We’re working on new memories around here.