Sometime last week I recieved a phone list for one of our divisions that was obviously created in Excel, and that's fine, usually. This particular phone list is okay - nothing special. Design-wise it's quite plain, actually, maybe lacking in consistency regarding formatting. There are a couple of minor mistakes involving the spacebar. Why am I telling you this? Because the genius who created it put it on legal sized paper.
This might be handy info to have but where the hell am I supposed to put it? My "info" binder is not legal sized. I have no desire to fold it. The damn thing has been sitting on my desk for days while I try to figure out how to handle it.
Totally stumped by an 8-1/2 by 14 inch piece of paper. Brought down by a size issue. Slowed to a crawl because... oh, fuck it, the truth is I don't really care. Wait, I think if I place it correctly on the copier, I can get it on a normal sized piece of paper.
Yep.
Problem solved. I'm a genius.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Oh, NBC, you disappoint me in so many ways.
Last night was the ladies' figure skating, short program. I like figure skating. My friend in elementary school did it, she got to wear pretty outfits, and I liked "Ice Castles," and I had a Dorothy Hamill haircut when I was little. It's exciting, dramatic, athletic, impossibly technical, emotional, beautiful: what's not to like? I think I'm not alone in this, either. And I know that what I am about to say has been stated already by others, and my two cents are no different or better said than anybody else.
But still.
WHY THE HELL DID THEY THINK I COULD STAY UP UNTIL MIDNIGHT ON A WEEKNIGHT TO SEE THE SKATERS I WANTED TO SEE? I tuned in at 8 p.m., and NBC was showing... the finals for ski cross. Granted, ski cross is pretty cool, but this is not what I wanted to see. So I waited. And yes, eventually I saw the girl from Turkey, Tugba (awesome name) skate. She did a great job,and I loved her outfit. One of the TV announcers said, "Of course she has no chance of a medal..." which I think is stupid. Don't handicap the thing while it's happening. Does he know? Maybe ALL THE OTHER GIRLS WILL SUCK. Maybe she will skate the program of her life! So maybe this is the point when I started to get aggravated. Then, sometime later, I did get to see Marai Nagasu skate (she's so fun to watch, she really is my favorite)... and then I fell asleep. On the couch. With all the living room lights on and the TV blaring and Patrick playing music in the other room and NO I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE. I was pissed off, actually, so I was "mad sleeping." Have you ever done that? It's no fun. It causes serious aggravation.
When I woke up at various moments between Marai and 10:30, what did I see? Ski cross finals. Women's bobsled (also exciting, but not what I wanted to see). Various commercials. Bob Costas. But where was the figure skating? Finally, at 11 I woke up one last time, and I got to see Kim Yu-Na... and then I was so fed up I just went to bed.
I missed the whole thing, pretty much, and I was really disappointed.
Seriously, NBC, you're killing me. And you know what? "The Marriage Ref" looks like a really stupid show. Good luck with that one.
Thursday night when they do the long program, I have flute choir, and so I won't get home until 10 p.m. If they stick to this schedule it will be fine. If they do something different I will be screwed. And while I have really enjoyed most of the other things I've seen of the Olympics, I will remember it only because I missed the stuff I most wanted to see. That sucks, NBC. You suck, NBC.
There. I'm finished.
But still.
WHY THE HELL DID THEY THINK I COULD STAY UP UNTIL MIDNIGHT ON A WEEKNIGHT TO SEE THE SKATERS I WANTED TO SEE? I tuned in at 8 p.m., and NBC was showing... the finals for ski cross. Granted, ski cross is pretty cool, but this is not what I wanted to see. So I waited. And yes, eventually I saw the girl from Turkey, Tugba (awesome name) skate. She did a great job,and I loved her outfit. One of the TV announcers said, "Of course she has no chance of a medal..." which I think is stupid. Don't handicap the thing while it's happening. Does he know? Maybe ALL THE OTHER GIRLS WILL SUCK. Maybe she will skate the program of her life! So maybe this is the point when I started to get aggravated. Then, sometime later, I did get to see Marai Nagasu skate (she's so fun to watch, she really is my favorite)... and then I fell asleep. On the couch. With all the living room lights on and the TV blaring and Patrick playing music in the other room and NO I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE. I was pissed off, actually, so I was "mad sleeping." Have you ever done that? It's no fun. It causes serious aggravation.
When I woke up at various moments between Marai and 10:30, what did I see? Ski cross finals. Women's bobsled (also exciting, but not what I wanted to see). Various commercials. Bob Costas. But where was the figure skating? Finally, at 11 I woke up one last time, and I got to see Kim Yu-Na... and then I was so fed up I just went to bed.
I missed the whole thing, pretty much, and I was really disappointed.
Seriously, NBC, you're killing me. And you know what? "The Marriage Ref" looks like a really stupid show. Good luck with that one.
Thursday night when they do the long program, I have flute choir, and so I won't get home until 10 p.m. If they stick to this schedule it will be fine. If they do something different I will be screwed. And while I have really enjoyed most of the other things I've seen of the Olympics, I will remember it only because I missed the stuff I most wanted to see. That sucks, NBC. You suck, NBC.
There. I'm finished.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday's update
Hi, everyone,
Last week we got some news about my mom's treatment: her last CT scan shows that the spot on her liver has increased in size by 20%. Her doctor is recommending two more months of chemotherapy. On Friday we'll see the doctor and ask him some questions, but for now this is the latest.
Mom's doing okay - chemo makes her tired, and takes away her sense of taste; most things taste "metallic" to her, which I'm sure you can imagine is no fun. She handled the news about the lesion well. This weekend she and my dad went to the desert to visit with their old friend, and I think being able to get away and visit is good for her.
I wanted to share with you a pretty cool story:
A friend of mine from school who I haven't seen in 20 years (Terry) recently got back in touch with me, thanks to Facebook. This has turned out to be a surprise blessing. He currently lives in Paris, France with his beautiful wife and children, and he has made it a point to offer me lots of support and friendship, which I appreciate so much.
A couple of weeks ago, Terry ran a 10K in France, and he dedicated his run to my mom. Last week I received in the mail the medal that he got for his run, and a beautiful letter that he wrote to my mom. She was really touched by this. Terry, my mom appreciated so much your words of hope.
People really are awesome sometimes.
Thanks to all of you for your support and for being a part of this.
Love you,
Irene
Last week we got some news about my mom's treatment: her last CT scan shows that the spot on her liver has increased in size by 20%. Her doctor is recommending two more months of chemotherapy. On Friday we'll see the doctor and ask him some questions, but for now this is the latest.
Mom's doing okay - chemo makes her tired, and takes away her sense of taste; most things taste "metallic" to her, which I'm sure you can imagine is no fun. She handled the news about the lesion well. This weekend she and my dad went to the desert to visit with their old friend, and I think being able to get away and visit is good for her.
I wanted to share with you a pretty cool story:
A friend of mine from school who I haven't seen in 20 years (Terry) recently got back in touch with me, thanks to Facebook. This has turned out to be a surprise blessing. He currently lives in Paris, France with his beautiful wife and children, and he has made it a point to offer me lots of support and friendship, which I appreciate so much.
A couple of weeks ago, Terry ran a 10K in France, and he dedicated his run to my mom. Last week I received in the mail the medal that he got for his run, and a beautiful letter that he wrote to my mom. She was really touched by this. Terry, my mom appreciated so much your words of hope.
People really are awesome sometimes.
Thanks to all of you for your support and for being a part of this.
Love you,
Irene
Great eats for a great cause!
Hi!
Most of you already know that since 2001, I have been involved in one way or another, with City Garage Theatre. Some of you have been there and seen the work this wonderful little theater group puts out. If you haven't, don't take my word for it: City Garage productions win awards and consistently receive good reviews from the Los Angeles Times, the LA Weekly, Backstage West and other local publications. You can read reviews and find out more about the theatre by visiting the newly revised website at citygarage.org.
I know nobody likes to be asked for money and I really don't like to do it, which is why this particular fundraising project is so easy: Kay 'n Dave's Cantina will soon be hosting "City Garage Week," where just by eating dinner, something you have to do anyway, you can help the theatre. How simple is that? Follows is all the information you need. We would really appreciate your support, and I thank you for taking the time to read this.
Kay 'n Dave's Cantina
City Garage Week
Sunday, February 21 - Sunday, February 28, 2010
Be sure to tell your server that you're with City Garage, and Kay 'n Dave's will donate 20% of your bill to City Garage.
Kay 'n Dave's Cantina Locations:
Brentwood: 262 26th St. (one block south of San Vicente) / (310) 260-1355
Culver City: 9341 Culver Blvd. (kitty corner to Trader Joe's) / (310) 558-8100
Rancho Park: 10543 Pico Blvd. (two blocks east of Overland) / (310) 446-8808
Pacific Palisades: 15246 Sunset Blvd. (between Antioch and Monument) / (310) 459-8118
We just wrapped up THE TROJAN WOMEN last night. Next up will be THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO, to open this spring. Hope to see you then!
Thanks again!
Best,
Irene
Most of you already know that since 2001, I have been involved in one way or another, with City Garage Theatre. Some of you have been there and seen the work this wonderful little theater group puts out. If you haven't, don't take my word for it: City Garage productions win awards and consistently receive good reviews from the Los Angeles Times, the LA Weekly, Backstage West and other local publications. You can read reviews and find out more about the theatre by visiting the newly revised website at citygarage.org.
I know nobody likes to be asked for money and I really don't like to do it, which is why this particular fundraising project is so easy: Kay 'n Dave's Cantina will soon be hosting "City Garage Week," where just by eating dinner, something you have to do anyway, you can help the theatre. How simple is that? Follows is all the information you need. We would really appreciate your support, and I thank you for taking the time to read this.
Kay 'n Dave's Cantina
City Garage Week
Sunday, February 21 - Sunday, February 28, 2010
Be sure to tell your server that you're with City Garage, and Kay 'n Dave's will donate 20% of your bill to City Garage.
Kay 'n Dave's Cantina Locations:
Brentwood: 262 26th St. (one block south of San Vicente) / (310) 260-1355
Culver City: 9341 Culver Blvd. (kitty corner to Trader Joe's) / (310) 558-8100
Rancho Park: 10543 Pico Blvd. (two blocks east of Overland) / (310) 446-8808
Pacific Palisades: 15246 Sunset Blvd. (between Antioch and Monument) / (310) 459-8118
We just wrapped up THE TROJAN WOMEN last night. Next up will be THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO, to open this spring. Hope to see you then!
Thanks again!
Best,
Irene
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
From a New York Time's story about Snowboard Cross in the Olympics
A quote from Graham Watanabe, one of the Americans who competed but didn't make it to the finals:
“Try to imagine Pegasus mating with a unicorn and the creature that they birth,” he said last week. “I somehow tame it and ride it into the sky in the clouds and sunshine and rainbows. That’s what it feels like.”
I have finally figured out what's missing in my life. What is missing is the activity, whatever it may be, that makes me talk like this.
Unless that activity is drugs, of course.
“Try to imagine Pegasus mating with a unicorn and the creature that they birth,” he said last week. “I somehow tame it and ride it into the sky in the clouds and sunshine and rainbows. That’s what it feels like.”
I have finally figured out what's missing in my life. What is missing is the activity, whatever it may be, that makes me talk like this.
Unless that activity is drugs, of course.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Crazy week!
On Monday, my mom got her CT scan. We're waiting to hear from the doctor's office still, but hopefully all will turn out well. Everybody's had good things to say, and she's doing okay. I left a message for Dr. McRobot, and hopefully we'll hear from him soon, with good things too.
Also on Monday, I started getting my allergy shots (for those rascally allergies to grass, dust, and the dreaded olive tree). While I was at Kaiser, I got a call from Patrick, who was also at Kaiser that day, because he'd been sick. Turns out he has bronchitis... and, the flu. Now, because we both got our flu shots this year (last year, in the drive-thru flu shot line), apparently his doctor said that he may have been exposed to H1N1.
Before you freak out, you should know that the doctor wasn't sure. But I decided to go see my doctor about the vaccine anyway. I mean, I was there. Now, it's possible that it was too late: if I was gonna get sick, I probably would have already, right? But it seemed like a good idea to me, so we went and did it anyway.
Then I saw my dermatologist, who was to check out that other problem.
It had been an exciting day, and I'd never seen this dermatologist before, so I'm sitting in the room, wearing that thin little robe thing, nervously checking out the diplomas of my doctor (Northwestern and Harvard), who, up until this moment, I had thought... was a woman.
When the door opened, however, and Dr. L came in the room, and he was a man, well, it was too much. I don't know why it was too much: I've shown my breast (and the other one too) to men before, but for some reason, all the crap of the day, of the week before, of the weekend: it all came out when I said,
"I didn't know you were a man!"
The guy was nice, though, and he handled my nerves (my nerves, you sickos) well. He listened to my stupid story politely, we discussed what I thought he would see, then he took a quick peek at the problem area, and determined that it was... nothing serious at all.
Anyway, it's all fine now. I didn't get sick, but I do have a sore throat and a headache, however, I make you a solemn promise: from here on out, I will not discuss any symptoms I maybe be having. The end.
...
Oh! Then on Wednesday? It was my birthday! Patrick was starting to feel a little better, so we spent the day relaxing and hanging out. It was a great day, capped off by a terrifically delicious dinner at Pizzeria Mozza in Hollywood. I have only good things to say about it, especially the amazing butterscotch budino (pudding) dessert. Maybe we're the last two people in LA to go there (I still haven't seen "Avatar") but wow. Yummy, yummy, yummy.
Yesterday I went back to work, where I had to deal with one unpleasant person (why are guys so unprofessional and they get away with it? If a woman acted the way... well, I'd better not say any more), a huge pile of stuff, plus a new project, but you know what? That's what work is. If it was easy... everybody would do it.
(That phrase really has nothing to do with anything but for some reason I like it.)
Now it's day 1 of a four-day weekend, and I've got nothing to complain about. Nothing. So? It's a good thing. See you later.
Also on Monday, I started getting my allergy shots (for those rascally allergies to grass, dust, and the dreaded olive tree). While I was at Kaiser, I got a call from Patrick, who was also at Kaiser that day, because he'd been sick. Turns out he has bronchitis... and, the flu. Now, because we both got our flu shots this year (last year, in the drive-thru flu shot line), apparently his doctor said that he may have been exposed to H1N1.
Before you freak out, you should know that the doctor wasn't sure. But I decided to go see my doctor about the vaccine anyway. I mean, I was there. Now, it's possible that it was too late: if I was gonna get sick, I probably would have already, right? But it seemed like a good idea to me, so we went and did it anyway.
Then I saw my dermatologist, who was to check out that other problem.
It had been an exciting day, and I'd never seen this dermatologist before, so I'm sitting in the room, wearing that thin little robe thing, nervously checking out the diplomas of my doctor (Northwestern and Harvard), who, up until this moment, I had thought... was a woman.
When the door opened, however, and Dr. L came in the room, and he was a man, well, it was too much. I don't know why it was too much: I've shown my breast (and the other one too) to men before, but for some reason, all the crap of the day, of the week before, of the weekend: it all came out when I said,
"I didn't know you were a man!"
The guy was nice, though, and he handled my nerves (my nerves, you sickos) well. He listened to my stupid story politely, we discussed what I thought he would see, then he took a quick peek at the problem area, and determined that it was... nothing serious at all.
Anyway, it's all fine now. I didn't get sick, but I do have a sore throat and a headache, however, I make you a solemn promise: from here on out, I will not discuss any symptoms I maybe be having. The end.
...
Oh! Then on Wednesday? It was my birthday! Patrick was starting to feel a little better, so we spent the day relaxing and hanging out. It was a great day, capped off by a terrifically delicious dinner at Pizzeria Mozza in Hollywood. I have only good things to say about it, especially the amazing butterscotch budino (pudding) dessert. Maybe we're the last two people in LA to go there (I still haven't seen "Avatar") but wow. Yummy, yummy, yummy.
Yesterday I went back to work, where I had to deal with one unpleasant person (why are guys so unprofessional and they get away with it? If a woman acted the way... well, I'd better not say any more), a huge pile of stuff, plus a new project, but you know what? That's what work is. If it was easy... everybody would do it.
(That phrase really has nothing to do with anything but for some reason I like it.)
Now it's day 1 of a four-day weekend, and I've got nothing to complain about. Nothing. So? It's a good thing. See you later.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
My friend's blog!
Through the magic of Facebook, I recently reconnected with my friend Deb, who was the other (the first!) piccolo player in my high school marching band. We were a good pair of piccolo players!
Great girl, and now she's all grown up and doing something totally awesome:
She's going to walk in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, a 3 day walk consisting of 60 miles total, all to raise money to fight breast cancer.
It's pretty cool, you know?
Check her out (link to her blog "So this is life" on the right), and donate, if you are so inclined. I will.
Great girl, and now she's all grown up and doing something totally awesome:
She's going to walk in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, a 3 day walk consisting of 60 miles total, all to raise money to fight breast cancer.
It's pretty cool, you know?
Check her out (link to her blog "So this is life" on the right), and donate, if you are so inclined. I will.
Getting ready to take my mom to chemotherapy
It's raining. I'm about to get in the shower. Then I'll drive to Culver City (again) and pick up my mom, and we'll go to Kaiser. I'm having a weird morning. Patrick is fighting a sore throat by sleeping in. Franny keeps walking around in front of me and looking at me: I know she doesn't want me to pick her up: it's not her thing (I'm only allowed to cuddle her in the bathroom... long story). I think she wants some of the leftover milk in my cereal bowl.
I think it's pretty funny and lame that even though I've been missing flesh and blood interaction with my friends for a longwhile now, last night after flute choir, I drove through the parking lot of the bar in Culver City where I knew at least one of them was hanging out and kept going instead of stopping in and having a drink, which I really wanted. I did the same thing, last week.
I need to think about this some more.
I think it's pretty funny and lame that even though I've been missing flesh and blood interaction with my friends for a longwhile now, last night after flute choir, I drove through the parking lot of the bar in Culver City where I knew at least one of them was hanging out and kept going instead of stopping in and having a drink, which I really wanted. I did the same thing, last week.
I need to think about this some more.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Doctor My Eyes
What is up with this business with my eye? Stupid allergies. I've got the redness on my upper eyelid again. As if it wasn't fun enough the first time around.
Luckily, it took just seven telephone calls before I was able to book an appointment with the dermatologist for my other little problem. That will happen Monday, and I guess I can ask about this then, too. Hopefully the dermatologist will be more tactful than the allergist. I'm actually looking forward to a nice verbal smackdown.
My mom's getting her scan Monday.
Luckily, it took just seven telephone calls before I was able to book an appointment with the dermatologist for my other little problem. That will happen Monday, and I guess I can ask about this then, too. Hopefully the dermatologist will be more tactful than the allergist. I'm actually looking forward to a nice verbal smackdown.
My mom's getting her scan Monday.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Sweet Talkin' Woman (Hint: I'm not talking about myself)
My mom, my mom, my mom.
Still gettng chemotherapy (two weeks on, one week off). She's been going regularly since Thanksgiving. Can you believe it? The first week is okay, I guess. Second week is pretty rough, but she's hanging in there. On Monday she had some blood drawn. Because I have (with her permission) access to her Kaiser online profile, and because Kaiser emails you with your test results, during the middle of the day yesterday I saw the test results.
They make it very easy to understand. There's an explanation of what each test is, why they've done it, and then next to your results, the range that you want your results to be in. Beyond that, of course, you should discuss things with your doctor. So I did a little looking around, and one of the tests worries me - it's related to liver function. There are actually two tests, and they're both, you know, outside the normal ranges. But see, I'm not a doctor. I barely passed high school biology (fucking frog), and please: let's not even talk about chemistry (I think I was sitting on the floor out in the hall with Rachel for much of the time). So I know that my review of these tests is half-assed and dumb, and I'm just getting worked up. Right? Right.
After I got home from work and talked with Patrick about it, he performed his magic trick and got me to stop worrying about it for awhile, and then I went to bed, and then I got up in the morning, and yeah, it was still on my mind. Around the middle of the day, my mom's doctor emailed us and her explanation of the situation was (as usual) more upbeat than mine. She wants the oncologist to review the tests, of course. Some of this is related to the crazy chemotherapy, she's sure. Mom's doctor is the type to put a positive spin on things, and I thought I was that type too, but with all my mother's been through... I'm kind of ready for her to get some down time. Time to get better and stop with the doctor's visits and sitting around and time to get better, did I mention that?
I wrote about this on Facebook a little today (my status, I mean), and in response to my friend Kate, who agreed that checking things out was a good idea, I wrote:
It does.
On my way home from work, "Sweet Talkin' Woman" by the band Electric Light Orchestra came on my iPod. I never really paid attention to the song before but you know what? That is one happy song. So I listened to it, oh, five times or so all the way home, and at least twice while me and Patrick went to Whole Foods. It really helped turn my mood around. And now I'm going to go to bed.
For your listening pleasure:
Good night.
Still gettng chemotherapy (two weeks on, one week off). She's been going regularly since Thanksgiving. Can you believe it? The first week is okay, I guess. Second week is pretty rough, but she's hanging in there. On Monday she had some blood drawn. Because I have (with her permission) access to her Kaiser online profile, and because Kaiser emails you with your test results, during the middle of the day yesterday I saw the test results.
They make it very easy to understand. There's an explanation of what each test is, why they've done it, and then next to your results, the range that you want your results to be in. Beyond that, of course, you should discuss things with your doctor. So I did a little looking around, and one of the tests worries me - it's related to liver function. There are actually two tests, and they're both, you know, outside the normal ranges. But see, I'm not a doctor. I barely passed high school biology (fucking frog), and please: let's not even talk about chemistry (I think I was sitting on the floor out in the hall with Rachel for much of the time). So I know that my review of these tests is half-assed and dumb, and I'm just getting worked up. Right? Right.
After I got home from work and talked with Patrick about it, he performed his magic trick and got me to stop worrying about it for awhile, and then I went to bed, and then I got up in the morning, and yeah, it was still on my mind. Around the middle of the day, my mom's doctor emailed us and her explanation of the situation was (as usual) more upbeat than mine. She wants the oncologist to review the tests, of course. Some of this is related to the crazy chemotherapy, she's sure. Mom's doctor is the type to put a positive spin on things, and I thought I was that type too, but with all my mother's been through... I'm kind of ready for her to get some down time. Time to get better and stop with the doctor's visits and sitting around and time to get better, did I mention that?
I wrote about this on Facebook a little today (my status, I mean), and in response to my friend Kate, who agreed that checking things out was a good idea, I wrote:
I would like to stop worrying that bad shit is around the corner, now, please. Thank you.Doesn't it seem to you like a good time for things to work out okay now?
It does.
On my way home from work, "Sweet Talkin' Woman" by the band Electric Light Orchestra came on my iPod. I never really paid attention to the song before but you know what? That is one happy song. So I listened to it, oh, five times or so all the way home, and at least twice while me and Patrick went to Whole Foods. It really helped turn my mood around. And now I'm going to go to bed.
For your listening pleasure:
Good night.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I want, I need, I write about it instead
I need:
- A bike ride
- A haircut (last week's scheduled appointment had to be pushed back a week, so I'm getting it this Saturday instead, but by waiting another week, it means I might make poor decisions, like when we go grocery shopping when we're hungry and I get grumpy and impatient and eat a whole bag of chips before we even leave the parking lot)
- A super-long trip to the bookstore
- A flute lesson
- To put away all the laundry I did two weekends ago
- To do more laundry
- A new HEPA vaccuum
- To stop eating a bowl of popcorn every night for dinner
- These boots
- A pair of Bass penny loafers (thank you, J. Crew, for fueling this passion. And, were they always this expensive, because I swear I had a pair in the 80s and there's no way my mother bought them at this price?)
- New sunglasses
- A stylist, trainer, maid, and a personal chef
- A 12-pack of Diet Coke for work
- Another day to spend lying around reading science fiction
- After 35 days of not eating meat, my brain is telling me it wants a cheeseburger, but I swear to god, brain, quit it. You do not need a cheeseburger. Think of the pretty cows.
Monday, February 1, 2010
High finance in action
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You insert your money in the machine, Coinstar counts your change and then presents you with a voucher (less 8 cents per dollar) that you can redeem at the cash register. I felt a little foolish doing this so I dressed way down for the event, even for me: I wore my ratty old Old Navy capri length sweats, flip flops, a denim jacket, and my t-shirt with a picture of Ham the Space Chimp wearing a space helmet and smoking a cigarette. I don't know why I felt foolish: maybe because it seems like a desperate act. Here's all my coins! I need the money!
But really, I was just starting to get curious. How much money could an apple juice jar hold, anyway?
It took awhile to find out. At first I kind of overloaded the machine's tray: I didn't realize that the slot for accepting coins was pretty small. That jar was heavy, though, and I was trying to unload it quickly. After a few moments I realized I couldn't dump it all in at once, and I spent about 10 minutes feeding the first group of change into the machine. The on-screen tally at this point was fairly low: I had about $1.98 fed through.
In time, though, I got the hang of it. The Coinstar machine is near the front of the store, next to the Western Union machine and the lottery machine. A bearded man walked up while I was working and he gave me a strange look. I had my sunglasses on (this was a totally anonymous transaction all around for me today), and I guess I gave him a strange look back. Here I was, cashing out on more money than he'd probably make playing the lottery and here he's judging Me?
At the end, I had $62.20, with $6 going back to Coinstar. I was pleased. Ralph's only had two lanes open when I was there, and one was the Express lane, which I initially headed toward. But I realized that the woman working that line was more interested in kissing the baby of the woman at the front of the line, and I didn't want to wait for her to get to me, so I went to the other. This turned out to be a mistake.
The woman in line in front of me had a small amount of items, but one of those items was a box of individual frozen burritos. Turns out there were 24 of them, all of which apparently had to be rung up one at a time. The blond woman working the register saw me with my Ham the Space Chimp t-shirt and sunglasses and Coinstar voucher, and called another clerk to ring at the register next door, but instead of calling me over, the dude called the guy behind me over (rude!). So I stood there and waited while the burrito lady paid for her groceries with singles. Really, and I looked suspicious? When it was my turn, she didn't smile, or say hello, though I did. She appeared to be subtly checking my arms for needle marks. She took my voucher, counted out my money, dropped a dollar, found it, gave it to me somewhat reluctantly (probably saying a little prayer for me) and sent me on my way, probably off to buy drugs (she thought). I thanked her and walked out of there with my money in my left hand and my receipt and now-empty apple juice jar in my right hand. Sure, the tips of my fingers were dirty (change is gross and filthy), but I hadn't rolled a bum or little old lady for the money: most of it came out of Patrick's pockets, when doing his laundry.
I earned that money.
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Thursday, January 28, 2010
Google-ing random symptoms = total insanity
I wrote some of this last night in an email to a friend:
Last week I had an appointment with an allergist - I am interested in getting those shots that are supposed to eventually cure you of your allergies (temporarily; apparently it's only good for 10 years). My doctor turned out to be young, gorgeous, efficient, and really nice, so while I was there, I opened up to her a little. I know I should probably not need my doctor to have any of the previously mentioned attributes in order to share information about my own health, but what can I say? I was comfortable. Anyway, I mentioned to her that my eczema had flared up a little... on my breasts? I thought she might be interested in knowing that. She didn't examine me (it was my choice: Do you want me to examine you, she asked? No, I said, because surely it's nothing!) but then she said, kind of on our way out of the room, "Not to scare you, but if you want, I can recommend you to see a dermatologist, because if it's only one breast that's affected, it could be a sign of cancer."
Sure. "Not to scare you" - as if that line ever works. After she said that, I had to think: is it just one? Or both? So since then, I have been looking at them rather intently, which is... interesting. It's not a big deal: I've had eczema for years, and this is a very mild case. A little moisturizer, and ta da! It's gone. But I commit the ultimate sin (super hot showers), so every morning I get out of the shower, and you know? There's itchiness, dryness, and it's not going away. And I am too shy to do a self-exam. I know: I'm stupid. No: I just don't want to feel something and be all, OH MY GOD I FELT A LUMP and then have to deal with the subsequent drama and calming down and panic that will involve. I'm no expert.
(Note: I think women should do their own self-exams. I've done them in the past, I will do it in the future, I'm just not crazy about it. Sure, it causes "anxiety." But some stuff you just have to shut up and do.)
After not thinking about it (yeah right) or doing anything for a couple of days, today I found this (note: this was the first link that came up, so any hysteria I'm feeling is silly and unfounded, I know).
Paget's disease. I could have it.After writing it all down and allowing myself to think about it, I felt a lot better. I talked about it to Patrick at home, and he was calm and cool and said, "Hey, just see the dermatologist, and I'm sure it's all fine, but then you can feel better." Exactly my thoughts, too, man, but this is why I married you. This morning I took a break at work and went to the car and made the phone call. I feel better already. I'll keep you posted. Or not.
Of course I probably don't, but after last year's cyst scare (that turned out to be nothing), and everything that's going on with my mom, and the fact that I uttered the words "I actually like my breasts" to somebody (karma! God is punishing me for being vain!, which is funny, because one is totally noticeably bigger than the other one... still, I like them, okay!)... I'm a little bit freaked out.
I think I will call her and ask for that referral. I really like dermatologists, anyway. They're always so clean.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I am the biggest loser
Knowing that my mother enjoys the TV show "Biggest Loser," I started watching it this year. My mom likes a lot of TV shows I don't watch, and I thought it might be a good idea if I started following at least one so I could contribute to the conversation when she brings it up. She likes to tell you the plots of things (books, movies, etc.) and if I haven't seen or read whatever it is she's talking about, it's a pretty boring conversation. So I've been watching Biggest Loser. I know it's been on for a while, and I thought I knew what it was (a weight loss show?); I was totally unprepared for the psychological drama.
For one thing, that woman Jillian is insane. Her rubber face scares the heck out of me. Sure, I would love to have her work me out all day, because I know I'd end up looking fantastic, but if I had to deal with her contstantly imploring me to get in touch with my feelings while she's screaming at me (or clinging to my back while I crawl on my forearms through the dusty grass), I'd have to say thanks, but no thanks. At first I thought that what she and Bob (the other trainer) had going on was a good-cop/bad-cop routine, but they're both a little nuts. He's as bad as she is, but he puts a smiley face on it, and that's just as creepy.
I'm falling for the contestants, though. There are a couple of people who are playing reality show head trip games (I don't know your names yet [Red Team, I'm talking to you] and I think I like it that way), but otherwise - the mom of the pink team, the one lady left on the purple team, the one guy left on the brown team (how sad for him, to have to be the "brown" team), and the two dudes on the gray team: these people are likable and working hard. I'm kind of hooked because of them.
For one thing, that woman Jillian is insane. Her rubber face scares the heck out of me. Sure, I would love to have her work me out all day, because I know I'd end up looking fantastic, but if I had to deal with her contstantly imploring me to get in touch with my feelings while she's screaming at me (or clinging to my back while I crawl on my forearms through the dusty grass), I'd have to say thanks, but no thanks. At first I thought that what she and Bob (the other trainer) had going on was a good-cop/bad-cop routine, but they're both a little nuts. He's as bad as she is, but he puts a smiley face on it, and that's just as creepy.
I'm falling for the contestants, though. There are a couple of people who are playing reality show head trip games (I don't know your names yet [Red Team, I'm talking to you] and I think I like it that way), but otherwise - the mom of the pink team, the one lady left on the purple team, the one guy left on the brown team (how sad for him, to have to be the "brown" team), and the two dudes on the gray team: these people are likable and working hard. I'm kind of hooked because of them.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Adult Education
Because I am/was a lazy bum, most of my friends are more highly educated than I am (does the word "highly" belong in that sentence?). This is fine, as it serves to keep me in my place (it's also helped me hone my well-developed self-deprecating sense of humor). And it means I got to have a lot of fun retail jobs while they were off getting drunk at college.
One of my friends is a professor of Spanish at a private college in some state on the other side of the country. He's currently kicking my butt in a Scrabble game on Facebook (he figured out that he wins 4 out of every 5 games he plays with me. I really didn't want to know that, I guess, but I'm addicted. So? He's really good at Scrabble. That one game out of 5 that I win is celebrated like, I don't know, something historical and wonderful that was won which everyone thought would be lost. You fill in the blanks, smartypants), and on Monday, he was in town visiting.
I've known this guy for a long time: we went to high school at around the same time (though I'm about 3 years older than he is; if we'd gone to the same high school, I wouldn't have deigned to talk to him. This could be why I have so few friends). We met through my flute teacher, who was also his flute teacher. He got more of her - she taught at his fancy music school, so he saw her all during the week instead for one hour at a private lesson. I think she liked him and the other kids she saw in that program more than she liked me (at the time) because they were terrific musicians, and obviously well-trained, but I don't know, that could be the scared 16 year old kid I was, speaking. They were fearless musicians. These kids had musical dreams that some of them actually fulfilled. Even though I was older, he and his buddies at the fancy music school were a bit more advanced than I was. She'd pair us up into groups occasionally to sight-read, and because I was shy, and unconfident, they walked all over me for awhile. Also, when I'm in a group of people who know each other well like that, I tend to get intimidated, and these kids could play. My friend can B.S. his way through any piece of music, and it took me a lot longer to learn how to do that convincingly (I have been known to cry at difficult passages). But we all grew up, he moved away (we kept in touch sporadically until the Miracle of Facebook), and I continued to study privately with my flute teacher until well into my 30s. I learned a lot from her, including how to count, sight-read, and play in tune (my proudest skill). He went off to college and got some fancy advanced degrees in interesting subjects and became a teacher. Oh, I'm sorry: a professor. And me and our flute teacher nourished and grew a friendship out of our student-teacher relationship that I treasure to this day. There's nobody I'd rather room with at a flute convention, that's for sure.
Incredible, isn't it?
Anyway, my friend was in town on Monday. He'd been traveling, doing some research on a subject I'm not going to name here (it's interesting, a bit risque, and his own business to tell), and we all got together for lunch and quartets (we were joined by another flutist). I was surprised that I had quite a bit of information about the subject he's researching (let's just say it's not something Nice People know about; then again, when did I ever profess to be "Nice"?), and it was fun to discuss it with him and our former flute teacher, now our friend. Now, I couldn't go on and write a scholarly paper or anything on the subject (nor would I want to), or probably, any subject, but it was great to have a highbrow conversation about an indecent topic and not feel like I was uninformed and stupid.
And the quartets were a lot of fun, too.
This has come to mind because for the last couple of days I have been feeling less than brainy. At work I have been slow; I'm not dyslexic but you wouldn't know it from listening to me talk (a little while ago I was telling my boss and her secretary that the second floor bathroom is closed and being repaired. They asked how I knew, and I stated that "there's a door on the sign"). Yesterday I managed to date something November 19, 2010; I filled in an Excel spreadsheet with the wrong data and didn't understand how, exactly, I had managed to do that; I couldn't figure out how multiplying something by 0.9 results in being 10% less than the original number even though I tested it and can see that it works... My brain was fried, and I don't even know why. I have done nothing to cause this (i.e., there has been no alcohol in my recent past). Today I feel a bit more logical, but I wonder if I just need more flute playing. I was smarter when I knew it was in my future. Luckily flute choir starts tomorrow night, and I'm counting on those 2.5 hours to smarten me up.
One of my friends is a professor of Spanish at a private college in some state on the other side of the country. He's currently kicking my butt in a Scrabble game on Facebook (he figured out that he wins 4 out of every 5 games he plays with me. I really didn't want to know that, I guess, but I'm addicted. So? He's really good at Scrabble. That one game out of 5 that I win is celebrated like, I don't know, something historical and wonderful that was won which everyone thought would be lost. You fill in the blanks, smartypants), and on Monday, he was in town visiting.
I've known this guy for a long time: we went to high school at around the same time (though I'm about 3 years older than he is; if we'd gone to the same high school, I wouldn't have deigned to talk to him. This could be why I have so few friends). We met through my flute teacher, who was also his flute teacher. He got more of her - she taught at his fancy music school, so he saw her all during the week instead for one hour at a private lesson. I think she liked him and the other kids she saw in that program more than she liked me (at the time) because they were terrific musicians, and obviously well-trained, but I don't know, that could be the scared 16 year old kid I was, speaking. They were fearless musicians. These kids had musical dreams that some of them actually fulfilled. Even though I was older, he and his buddies at the fancy music school were a bit more advanced than I was. She'd pair us up into groups occasionally to sight-read, and because I was shy, and unconfident, they walked all over me for awhile. Also, when I'm in a group of people who know each other well like that, I tend to get intimidated, and these kids could play. My friend can B.S. his way through any piece of music, and it took me a lot longer to learn how to do that convincingly (I have been known to cry at difficult passages). But we all grew up, he moved away (we kept in touch sporadically until the Miracle of Facebook), and I continued to study privately with my flute teacher until well into my 30s. I learned a lot from her, including how to count, sight-read, and play in tune (my proudest skill). He went off to college and got some fancy advanced degrees in interesting subjects and became a teacher. Oh, I'm sorry: a professor. And me and our flute teacher nourished and grew a friendship out of our student-teacher relationship that I treasure to this day. There's nobody I'd rather room with at a flute convention, that's for sure.
Incredible, isn't it?
Anyway, my friend was in town on Monday. He'd been traveling, doing some research on a subject I'm not going to name here (it's interesting, a bit risque, and his own business to tell), and we all got together for lunch and quartets (we were joined by another flutist). I was surprised that I had quite a bit of information about the subject he's researching (let's just say it's not something Nice People know about; then again, when did I ever profess to be "Nice"?), and it was fun to discuss it with him and our former flute teacher, now our friend. Now, I couldn't go on and write a scholarly paper or anything on the subject (nor would I want to), or probably, any subject, but it was great to have a highbrow conversation about an indecent topic and not feel like I was uninformed and stupid.
And the quartets were a lot of fun, too.
This has come to mind because for the last couple of days I have been feeling less than brainy. At work I have been slow; I'm not dyslexic but you wouldn't know it from listening to me talk (a little while ago I was telling my boss and her secretary that the second floor bathroom is closed and being repaired. They asked how I knew, and I stated that "there's a door on the sign"). Yesterday I managed to date something November 19, 2010; I filled in an Excel spreadsheet with the wrong data and didn't understand how, exactly, I had managed to do that; I couldn't figure out how multiplying something by 0.9 results in being 10% less than the original number even though I tested it and can see that it works... My brain was fried, and I don't even know why. I have done nothing to cause this (i.e., there has been no alcohol in my recent past). Today I feel a bit more logical, but I wonder if I just need more flute playing. I was smarter when I knew it was in my future. Luckily flute choir starts tomorrow night, and I'm counting on those 2.5 hours to smarten me up.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Because apparently I have some kind of strained muscle in my back
(and not a UTI as I thought), I am on drugs right now for the PAIN. It's not a lot of pain; I think two prescriptions was overkill, I probably will not continue to take them both because they both make you (or me, as the case may be) tired (duh), and maybe a bit confused, so I'm not capable of writing much else right now, SO I am going to do another question-y thing. Misspelled words, questionable grammar, and typos are to be blamed on my new, white, round little friends.
I got this one from the Middle Aged Diva (hands off my Stewart Copeland, babe; otherwise she seems totally charming and fun).
Oh, and this is a bonus: there's not a damn thing on television I want to watch right now, so I'm watching "Ski Flying."
Do you get regular massages? Not since Bruce retired. I've been frequenting once in awhile this reflexology place that opened last year near my house, dry cleaner, and hair salon. Just got one on Sunday, and it was perfect.
Do you have an answering machine? Yes but if you really need to get in touch with me I recommend calling my cell phone.
What cuss word do you use the most? It depends upon to whom I am speaking. Variants on the F word, I guess.
Are you underweight or overweight? I'm pretty much borderline overweight, I guess, though I just lost 4 pounds without really trying, much to my surprise.
Can you see your veins? Some of them. They don't spell out words or anything.
Favorite...
Soap? Cetaphil
Fruit? Blackberries (is that a fruit? or a berry?)
Kind of red meat? As of Dec. 30 I've sworn off meat. I did love steak (bloody but not cold). And lamb, but I didn't allow myself to eat it very often. Lambs are too cute to eat. Other meat, well, maybe one day again but probably not any time soon.
Fish? I've practically almost decided to be the type of person who doesn't eat meat but on occasion eats fish (the last time I had fish was probably a year ago, not counting tunafish, which, I don't know why you wouldn't count it, it's fish, those big ol' tunas deserve to live too...). I'm not a big fish eater, and so my answer here will be vague, until I can make up my mind.
Candy bar? Hershey bar with almonds.
Have you ever...
Eaten a whole bag of potato chips? Unfortunately. It's also very easy for me to devour an entire tin of Pringles.
Eaten lobster? Yes, but not very often. I like it a lot.
Climbed a mountain? Hell no. But there was that hill at Leadership Camp that Rachel and I stupidly climbed up and then couldn't get down without Adam's intervention...
Been skydiving? No.
Been water skiing? No.
Do you...
Wish you could change something about your life? Yes.
Like your nose? I wouldn't change it or anything, but my nostrils are kind of large.
Like salt and vinegar chips? Sometimes.
Eat salsa? Mild salsa. Tito's salsa.
Own a boat? No.
What is a small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences? Not signaling lane changes. Or jaywalking.
Your most macho trait? I'm not very patient. Is that a macho trait?
The longest relationship you've ever had? Married 11 years, met my husband when I was 17.
Your most embarrassing thoughts? Please see http://meetingstewartcopeland.blogspot.com/ for examples.
Your most shameful moment? Breaking up with Drew in a poorly planned and unfair way in a parked car near my elementary school.
This/That
Bath/shower? Shower but if I'm in a nice clean hotel...
Markers/crayons? Markers.
Pens/pencils? Both
Jelly/cream cheese? Either
Bagel/toast? Decisions, decisions...
Finish...
My greatest weakness is... My fantasy life; buying music.
I wish I was... Skinnier. Motivated. Braver. Had better personal style.
Three things I wouldn't do for a million dollars is... kill, kill, kill
The oddest thing I've ever put in my mouth is... Bleh.
Firsts
Credit card you had? I think it was an American Express card.
Loan you got was for? Used car.
First paycheck was for how much? No idea. But they don't pay 15 year old library pages a whole lot of dough.
Time you had stitches? I have never had any stitches that am aware of.
Time you went to the hospital for something? I had some kind of eye surgery when I was a baby.
Lasts
List everything you ate in the last 24 hours? Popcorn, a diet Coke, veggie chipotle burrito, yummy spinach scrambled eggs, banana bread with raisins and cream cheese, frut, half a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, orange juice
Last thing you used a credit card for? Shoes
What was your last job? Before my civil service job I was a bookstore manager.
Last thing you celebrated? My brother's birthday.
Last time you were at a sports bar? Years and years. The staff of 20/20 Video used to go to Gabes, a crappy sports bar, where we went to see a crappy cover band, drink, and play that weird game with the little football guys. I was not impressed.
I got this one from the Middle Aged Diva (hands off my Stewart Copeland, babe; otherwise she seems totally charming and fun).
Oh, and this is a bonus: there's not a damn thing on television I want to watch right now, so I'm watching "Ski Flying."
Do you get regular massages? Not since Bruce retired. I've been frequenting once in awhile this reflexology place that opened last year near my house, dry cleaner, and hair salon. Just got one on Sunday, and it was perfect.
Do you have an answering machine? Yes but if you really need to get in touch with me I recommend calling my cell phone.
What cuss word do you use the most? It depends upon to whom I am speaking. Variants on the F word, I guess.
Are you underweight or overweight? I'm pretty much borderline overweight, I guess, though I just lost 4 pounds without really trying, much to my surprise.
Can you see your veins? Some of them. They don't spell out words or anything.
Favorite...
Soap? Cetaphil
Fruit? Blackberries (is that a fruit? or a berry?)
Kind of red meat? As of Dec. 30 I've sworn off meat. I did love steak (bloody but not cold). And lamb, but I didn't allow myself to eat it very often. Lambs are too cute to eat. Other meat, well, maybe one day again but probably not any time soon.
Fish? I've practically almost decided to be the type of person who doesn't eat meat but on occasion eats fish (the last time I had fish was probably a year ago, not counting tunafish, which, I don't know why you wouldn't count it, it's fish, those big ol' tunas deserve to live too...). I'm not a big fish eater, and so my answer here will be vague, until I can make up my mind.
Candy bar? Hershey bar with almonds.
Have you ever...
Eaten a whole bag of potato chips? Unfortunately. It's also very easy for me to devour an entire tin of Pringles.
Eaten lobster? Yes, but not very often. I like it a lot.
Climbed a mountain? Hell no. But there was that hill at Leadership Camp that Rachel and I stupidly climbed up and then couldn't get down without Adam's intervention...
Been skydiving? No.
Been water skiing? No.
Do you...
Wish you could change something about your life? Yes.
Like your nose? I wouldn't change it or anything, but my nostrils are kind of large.
Like salt and vinegar chips? Sometimes.
Eat salsa? Mild salsa. Tito's salsa.
Own a boat? No.
What is a small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences? Not signaling lane changes. Or jaywalking.
Your most macho trait? I'm not very patient. Is that a macho trait?
The longest relationship you've ever had? Married 11 years, met my husband when I was 17.
Your most embarrassing thoughts? Please see http://meetingstewartcopeland.blogspot.com/ for examples.
Your most shameful moment? Breaking up with Drew in a poorly planned and unfair way in a parked car near my elementary school.
This/That
Bath/shower? Shower but if I'm in a nice clean hotel...
Markers/crayons? Markers.
Pens/pencils? Both
Jelly/cream cheese? Either
Bagel/toast? Decisions, decisions...
Finish...
My greatest weakness is... My fantasy life; buying music.
I wish I was... Skinnier. Motivated. Braver. Had better personal style.
Three things I wouldn't do for a million dollars is... kill, kill, kill
The oddest thing I've ever put in my mouth is... Bleh.
Firsts
Credit card you had? I think it was an American Express card.
Loan you got was for? Used car.
First paycheck was for how much? No idea. But they don't pay 15 year old library pages a whole lot of dough.
Time you had stitches? I have never had any stitches that am aware of.
Time you went to the hospital for something? I had some kind of eye surgery when I was a baby.
Lasts
List everything you ate in the last 24 hours? Popcorn, a diet Coke, veggie chipotle burrito, yummy spinach scrambled eggs, banana bread with raisins and cream cheese, frut, half a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, orange juice
Last thing you used a credit card for? Shoes
What was your last job? Before my civil service job I was a bookstore manager.
Last thing you celebrated? My brother's birthday.
Last time you were at a sports bar? Years and years. The staff of 20/20 Video used to go to Gabes, a crappy sports bar, where we went to see a crappy cover band, drink, and play that weird game with the little football guys. I was not impressed.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Dream
Last night I had a dream that Patrick and I had a huge fight, bigger than any argument we've ever had in real life but I can't remember what it was about or what we said. I just remember feeling very un-connected with him and separate and damn that was scary.
I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Instead I turned on the heater, brought a blanket and pillow out to the living room, fired up the laptop, wrote a long silly letter to Stewart Copeland and have been uploading music for my mom's iPod, my super-project.
Patrick's in bed, snoring away, obvlivious.
I think I'll do some laundry, too. Since I'm awake anyway.
I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Instead I turned on the heater, brought a blanket and pillow out to the living room, fired up the laptop, wrote a long silly letter to Stewart Copeland and have been uploading music for my mom's iPod, my super-project.
Patrick's in bed, snoring away, obvlivious.
I think I'll do some laundry, too. Since I'm awake anyway.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
From the "things I should've known already" list:
- Jeff Porcaro is dead.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Housekeeping
2010 opened with me having a renewed interest in the care and upkeep of my home ("renewed" indicates that there was a previous interest that had gone stagnant... well, I'll just let you keep thinking that), and over the past weekend, I spent a lot of time in my living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Since I apparently have lost the ability to single-task effectively, all three rooms were looked at and worked on at the same time; none of them has been finished just yet. Maybe this will be an ongoing project. I suspect that's all housework is, anyway.
So I got out all my vaccuums (for some reason I have three, and none of them is all that great): the little hand-vac for small jobs, the slightly larger red one for slightly larger jobs (it's the best for kitty litter), and the medium-sized green one for the one patch of carpet in my whole house (living room). I bought a couple new microfiber cloths for dusting, refilled my Swiffer Wet Jet, and had my sister pick out a mop thing for me (she is better than Martha Stewart at keeping things clean, and the model for my new life as someone who cares about cleaning). I went through all my books and the bookshelves in the living room, and rid myself of things we had been collecting for no apparent reason and the things I was hanging onto for sentimental reasons but it was time to let go of (my decrepit, dusty, and disintegrating bridal bouquet, for example. Now, if I had handled it correctly from day 1, I could have kept it as a treasured memento from a beautiful day with my husband and family; unfortunately, the thing was just too fragile and jacked up to keep. Pieces of it were all over the place. I took a farewell photo of it, told Patrick, who probably didn't realize what event that particular graying bunch of roses was even from, kissed him, and then I unceremoniously dumped it in the trash.
I don't have a ton of books, but I decided it was time to let go of some of them, and so I filled a couple of paper grocery store bags with the ones I don't want anymore. I mostly kept the ones I've read more than once, and even after culling out the losers, I have quite a few more books than I probably should (and man, how'd I get so many Philip Roth novels? I must have like 15 of his books). I always said I'd I never get rid of any books, that they were all treasured friends, but some of them were just embarrassing (though: I did keep my high school copies of "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Fountainhead" - two examples of bad writing/thinking that for some reason I have a soft spot for that Ayn Rand probably wouldn't appreciate). It is time to lighten the load, and then maybe in a little while, get some more.
Last night, Patrick was out at a band rehearsal so I stopped at the library on the way home to see if I could find any CD's for an iPod I'm planning on loading for my mom's birthday. Surprisingly, they had quite a lot of music I think she'll enjoy (and I need to figure out how to get her music into my iTunes but not on my iPod - believe me when I tell you that nothing will piss me off more than cruising down the freeway and having, I don't know, Tony Bennett or Sandy Patti come streaming out my stereo speakers), and when I got home, I started uploading CD's. While that was going on (my laptop is slow at this), I took a look around the living room, and decided it was time to tackle: The Crickets.
I think I wrote about the crickes awhile ago. They've sort of invaded our living room, but they're not visible or annoying except for doing that thing crickets do. It doesn't really bother me when I don't think about it too much, but last night I started thinking about it.
(Time out here: I admit that Patrick and I have sort of been living like sloppy college students all these years. Every once in awhile I get inspired to clean, but we never really keep things clean. We run the dishwasher, but we never empty it, so new dirty dishes pile up. We do laundry, but unless I do it, there's always a basket full of clean but slightly wrinkled clothes around. If we're having company, we clean up, and the place looks nice on the surface... but hidden away in closets and various cubby holes, if you looked closely, you would find all our mess, ready to take over again once the guests leave. I would like to be more like my sister, and my friends who have homes that would be presentable even with no notice or a special cleaning crew beforehand. Yeah, it's a big change, but I'm gonna try.)
So I moved a few bookscases, got out my trusty hand-vac (it's perfect for crickets and cat food; not necessarily one and the same, but sometimes...), and found a couple teeny tiny crickets hiding behind the TV. Franny was a big help in this venture. Just saying "Franny! What's that?" put her in huntress mode, and my kitty is no scaredy-cat. We conquered some of the crickets (but I'm sure there are more. Hiding. I'm not really strong enough to really move the TV), and then I was walking behind the couch in this big open space we have there, and I saw what I thought was some fluff from the carpet. It was black (we have some black in the carpet), and it looked just like those fibers that come off the kitty scratching posts. So I aimed my hand-vac at it, and... right before it got sucked in, it moved.
Turns out that piece of fluff was some kind of large bug (disturbed, probably, when I moved the bookcases), now trapped in the tiny body of my hand-vac, along with who knows how many baby crickets and whatever else had been caught up in there. And suddenly I acquired an irrational fear of my hand-vac.
I set it down without folding it up (it folds up to go live on it's base) in the middle of the living room floor. Franny came sniffing around, and we both just looked at it. Here's the thing I was envisioning:
Being in the hand-vac was probably heaven to that stupid bug: all the crickets he could eat! Lots of dust and hair and what-not to roll around in, and did I mention the crickets? So I pictured the bug swelling to astronomical un-bug like proportions, and then me forgetting the bug was in there, opening the little side door to empty the little canister, and being confronted by super-bug.
"Ewww" was the only word I could muster out loud. So I gingerly picked the thing up, took it outside and set it on the back steps, and waited for Patrick to get home so he could be the one to empty it. He didn't want to (poor guy was beat up after that band rehearsal, wherein he utilized his crazy new mega-bell ride cymbal for the first time, which is practically gong like but crashy and fucking loud), but he finally did it. He brought it back in the house and let me examine it. There was no trace of the havoc I had wreaked on the animal kingdom earlier that night. I put it back on the base, pushed all the bookcases back up against the wall, and went back to uploading CD's for my mom.
This weekend I plan on finishing, finally, the living room, bathroom and bedroom, and then I'll set about tackling the kitchen, which shouldn't be too difficult - we never use that room. Then I'll have to set my sights on my office, which is chock full of crap to be shredded and painted and we need new blinds, and I'd like a smaller desk and less computer equipment, and maybe a sleeper love seat, and...
So I got out all my vaccuums (for some reason I have three, and none of them is all that great): the little hand-vac for small jobs, the slightly larger red one for slightly larger jobs (it's the best for kitty litter), and the medium-sized green one for the one patch of carpet in my whole house (living room). I bought a couple new microfiber cloths for dusting, refilled my Swiffer Wet Jet, and had my sister pick out a mop thing for me (she is better than Martha Stewart at keeping things clean, and the model for my new life as someone who cares about cleaning). I went through all my books and the bookshelves in the living room, and rid myself of things we had been collecting for no apparent reason and the things I was hanging onto for sentimental reasons but it was time to let go of (my decrepit, dusty, and disintegrating bridal bouquet, for example. Now, if I had handled it correctly from day 1, I could have kept it as a treasured memento from a beautiful day with my husband and family; unfortunately, the thing was just too fragile and jacked up to keep. Pieces of it were all over the place. I took a farewell photo of it, told Patrick, who probably didn't realize what event that particular graying bunch of roses was even from, kissed him, and then I unceremoniously dumped it in the trash.
I don't have a ton of books, but I decided it was time to let go of some of them, and so I filled a couple of paper grocery store bags with the ones I don't want anymore. I mostly kept the ones I've read more than once, and even after culling out the losers, I have quite a few more books than I probably should (and man, how'd I get so many Philip Roth novels? I must have like 15 of his books). I always said I'd I never get rid of any books, that they were all treasured friends, but some of them were just embarrassing (though: I did keep my high school copies of "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Fountainhead" - two examples of bad writing/thinking that for some reason I have a soft spot for that Ayn Rand probably wouldn't appreciate). It is time to lighten the load, and then maybe in a little while, get some more.
Last night, Patrick was out at a band rehearsal so I stopped at the library on the way home to see if I could find any CD's for an iPod I'm planning on loading for my mom's birthday. Surprisingly, they had quite a lot of music I think she'll enjoy (and I need to figure out how to get her music into my iTunes but not on my iPod - believe me when I tell you that nothing will piss me off more than cruising down the freeway and having, I don't know, Tony Bennett or Sandy Patti come streaming out my stereo speakers), and when I got home, I started uploading CD's. While that was going on (my laptop is slow at this), I took a look around the living room, and decided it was time to tackle: The Crickets.
I think I wrote about the crickes awhile ago. They've sort of invaded our living room, but they're not visible or annoying except for doing that thing crickets do. It doesn't really bother me when I don't think about it too much, but last night I started thinking about it.
(Time out here: I admit that Patrick and I have sort of been living like sloppy college students all these years. Every once in awhile I get inspired to clean, but we never really keep things clean. We run the dishwasher, but we never empty it, so new dirty dishes pile up. We do laundry, but unless I do it, there's always a basket full of clean but slightly wrinkled clothes around. If we're having company, we clean up, and the place looks nice on the surface... but hidden away in closets and various cubby holes, if you looked closely, you would find all our mess, ready to take over again once the guests leave. I would like to be more like my sister, and my friends who have homes that would be presentable even with no notice or a special cleaning crew beforehand. Yeah, it's a big change, but I'm gonna try.)
So I moved a few bookscases, got out my trusty hand-vac (it's perfect for crickets and cat food; not necessarily one and the same, but sometimes...), and found a couple teeny tiny crickets hiding behind the TV. Franny was a big help in this venture. Just saying "Franny! What's that?" put her in huntress mode, and my kitty is no scaredy-cat. We conquered some of the crickets (but I'm sure there are more. Hiding. I'm not really strong enough to really move the TV), and then I was walking behind the couch in this big open space we have there, and I saw what I thought was some fluff from the carpet. It was black (we have some black in the carpet), and it looked just like those fibers that come off the kitty scratching posts. So I aimed my hand-vac at it, and... right before it got sucked in, it moved.
Turns out that piece of fluff was some kind of large bug (disturbed, probably, when I moved the bookcases), now trapped in the tiny body of my hand-vac, along with who knows how many baby crickets and whatever else had been caught up in there. And suddenly I acquired an irrational fear of my hand-vac.
I set it down without folding it up (it folds up to go live on it's base) in the middle of the living room floor. Franny came sniffing around, and we both just looked at it. Here's the thing I was envisioning:
Being in the hand-vac was probably heaven to that stupid bug: all the crickets he could eat! Lots of dust and hair and what-not to roll around in, and did I mention the crickets? So I pictured the bug swelling to astronomical un-bug like proportions, and then me forgetting the bug was in there, opening the little side door to empty the little canister, and being confronted by super-bug.
"Ewww" was the only word I could muster out loud. So I gingerly picked the thing up, took it outside and set it on the back steps, and waited for Patrick to get home so he could be the one to empty it. He didn't want to (poor guy was beat up after that band rehearsal, wherein he utilized his crazy new mega-bell ride cymbal for the first time, which is practically gong like but crashy and fucking loud), but he finally did it. He brought it back in the house and let me examine it. There was no trace of the havoc I had wreaked on the animal kingdom earlier that night. I put it back on the base, pushed all the bookcases back up against the wall, and went back to uploading CD's for my mom.
This weekend I plan on finishing, finally, the living room, bathroom and bedroom, and then I'll set about tackling the kitchen, which shouldn't be too difficult - we never use that room. Then I'll have to set my sights on my office, which is chock full of crap to be shredded and painted and we need new blinds, and I'd like a smaller desk and less computer equipment, and maybe a sleeper love seat, and...
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