tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-139089572024-03-23T10:53:13.052-07:00bloggity woggitymaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-51404774484316169382007-08-21T15:51:00.000-07:002007-08-21T15:54:04.445-07:00It's not you, it's me.I've been <a href="http://tiptoeoftinyfeet.blogspot.com/">cheating</a>.<br />Forgive me - I'm a blog whore.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-44630529233307963382007-05-22T16:05:00.000-07:002007-05-22T16:25:49.856-07:00Day 2: Seven bandaids and countingWe arrived in London yesterday morning.<br /><div>Or was it 2 days ago?</div><div>Hmm.</div><div>Well, at some point in the near past, we flew, like, 73 hours.</div><div>Since we've arrived we have probably walked an excess of 200 miles.</div><div>This is us after walking approximately 132 miles, right before we walked another 91:<br /></div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu__3h6babllHi1ct4pp9OMKQugBQ2Amaqsj_nDheyfoDwdQyDBp6sID9NgOHpL8vPD0FCvTV366Jp2V-2HcdvWn6sfJA9CueBABtHKDwkOsGYx5sAfxQyBVJEyGwpI3WD3SyN/s1600-h/DSCN1763.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067527717279331666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu__3h6babllHi1ct4pp9OMKQugBQ2Amaqsj_nDheyfoDwdQyDBp6sID9NgOHpL8vPD0FCvTV366Jp2V-2HcdvWn6sfJA9CueBABtHKDwkOsGYx5sAfxQyBVJEyGwpI3WD3SyN/s320/DSCN1763.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We might look happy, but there are blisters the size of silver dollars on my feet.</div><div></div><div>Oh the price we pay for acting touristy and stuff.</div>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-60224374950010050632007-04-16T18:04:00.000-07:002007-04-16T18:15:04.533-07:00We have since sterilized the kitchen thoroughly<p class="MsoNormal">Around here I might be known for mentioning a teaser about something I might write on soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then not writing about it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not something I’m proud of. But I’m going to claim creative license on this one and just say that sometimes I’m just not in the mood to write about certain things.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or, I don’t remember. Which could probably qualify as more of a creative amnesia than creative licensing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the case where I’m just not in the mood – let me just say I am sparring you. When it comes to writing, if I have to force anything it’s not only painful for me but the reader as well.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s assuming I have any readers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And at the rate I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> blogged around here – it’s probably safe to say I may have only one left.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Hi Mom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What I’m getting at in a round about way (me? taking forever to make a point?) is that sometimes I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ve</span> been known to hint at posting a story soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then not.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then asked to get right on it by what readers I DO have left.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I still don’t.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Except today? I think I’m going to actually come through on a story tease I made in my previous blog about our hole digging escapades!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not to be confused with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Icecapades</span>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes! That’s right! I mentioned something about poo on the wall – and now? Why yes! I’m going to FOLLOW THROUGH and actually elaborate in a blog today.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Why you ask?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Because I AM IN THE MOOD.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Generally not a moody girl – but when it comes to my writing I most definitely can be.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Which is probably an indication that if I ever wanted to pursue writing as a career (ha!), then becoming an alcoholic may be the best thing for me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ok</span>, poo on the wall.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m going to try and err on the side of brevity here as I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ve</span> already managed to blather on about god knows what for god knows how long.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Totally unlike me I know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We had been in our new house for a week or two. Upon moving we had made a few large appliance purchases – one of which was a washing machine. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I, being the very excited ex-apartment dweller, wasted NO time in purchasing laundry equipment as soon as the ink dried on our loan papers. In fact, I was SO excited about NOT having to do laundry in a public laundry room EVER AGAIN, that I had stood protest against our ever growing pile of laundry in the corner of our bedroom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I waited patiently for Trevor to find some time to hook up the new washer in our kitchen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Finally the day came, and our washer was plugged in, hooked up, leveled, and ready to make me one VERY happywife.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">About two loads in and the drain started backing up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thus begins what would become one of many UNINTENDED projects we would have going on around the house.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Bright and early Saturday we rented a professional snake – something that vaguely resembles a garden hose on a reel. Only the hose is made of metal with pincers on the end, and the reel is powered to whip the hose around in a frenzy similar to a snake prone to seizures.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We set it up in the kitchen, and Trevor began to thread it down the drain pipe until the entire 75 feet of hose had disappeared into the bowels of our sewer system.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He began retracting it and realized quickly that the reel is designed more to encourage a seizure from the hose than actually pull it out and wind it back up again. So with Trevor at the drain opening pulling the hose out of the sewer, and I at the reel feeding the hose back into the apparatus, we slowly retracted the hose out of the sewer line.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have to admit that by this point we were mostly preoccupied with the anticipation of what we would find at the end of the hose, griped in the metal pincer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Let me just make it clear – when I say “anticipation”, I don’t mean in an excited sort of way. More like “anticipation” in an *oh god what the hell has been clogging our drain and just how much is it going to make me want to vomit?* sort of way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">About half way into the hose retracting the kitchen took on the smell of a public restroom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">At which point we noticed our gloves were turning brown.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">From poo.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Two weeks into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">home ownership</span> and we were already playing with poo in the kitchen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">(A note to every sicko that typed in “playing with poo” in your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">internet</span> search tool and got this blog: Sorry to disappoint – and no, there are no pictures.)<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We persevered, Trevor continued wrenching the hose from the pipe, I continued shoving it into the reel. <span style=""> </span>Until finally! The end of the hose appeared! And in the pincers? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Nothing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Absolutely nothing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not to sound perverse, but I was really hoping for SOMETHING. Anything that would prove to us that all our efforts had not been wasted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I looked at Trevor for guidance – a comment that might give me faith that even though the pincers came back empty, there was still hope that whatever the impeding object had been, it was dislodged and traveling down the rest of the sewer pipe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He looked back at me, and then looked at the wall.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">"There’s poo on the wall.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I turned and looked at the hose reel and there, next to it, was a spray that traveled across the floor and up the wall like a brown rooster tail.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Um…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Gross. Guess we'll be cleaning the kitchen.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Yea, that’s not all.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“What?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“There’s poo on your leg too.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So that trail of brown spray that went across the floor and up the wall?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yea, it traveled across the floor on the other side of the hose reel, and up my leg too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">(2<sup><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">nd</span></sup> note to Sicko’s: I was wearing pants, and no – I don’t have pics of this either.)<o:p></o:p></i></p>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-16542508339525127442007-04-12T17:02:00.000-07:002007-04-12T17:37:38.854-07:00It's not a hole to China..."So, the police just called me at work."<br /><br />"Do you need me to come bail you out?"<br /><br />"I'll give you one guess why they called."<br /><br />"Our favorite neighbor doesn't like the trench we just dug in our side yard?"<br /><br />"Gee. How did you know."<br /><br />"What did they want exactly?"<br /><br />"They wanted to know how long the hole is going to be there."<br /><br />"Tell them it will be there as long as it takes to trick her to fall in."<br /><br />We bought an old house. A 94 year house to be exact. And it has old pipes to go with all the other things old about the place. This would include the sewer pipes. Given that things were done a bit differently back when the house was built, there is quite a bit of updating that needs to be done on the pipes in order to make the plumbing a little more acceptable shall we say.<br /><br />I will have to blog about the "poo on the wall story" soon, as I think it will highlight what I'm talking about here quite nicely.<br /><br />But for purposes of finishing THIS particular story I will summarize:<br />- sewer pipe got clogged<br />- we snaked the pipe ourselves<br />- we got poo on the walls<br />...and my leg<br /><br />I think that makes my point.<br /><br />Moving right along.<br /><br />In order to update our sewer pipe so it stops backing up, meets code, and appreciates the value of the property, we had to embark on a project known as "replacing the sewer lateral".<br /><br />Which pretty much means we dig up the whole sewer pipe as it runs from the house to the city sewer line at the street and lay down a new one made out of new! modern! fancy! materials.<br /><br />On the first day of the project we hired a team to come and remove the concrete path that happens to run over the pipe, and excavate the dirt underneath to expose the area so we could break out the old pipe and lay down the new one.<br /><br />And because we are not stupid we hung a copy of the permit and a note on the door for the police officer we knew would show up to investigate because a "concerned citizen" was most likely going to call in and complain.<br /><br />Hence why Trevor was called at work by a cop.<br /><br />"Did he give you any shit?"<br /><br />"No, we are completely within our rights. He just wanted to know when we thought we would be done so he could let her know. That and she's freaking out about the dirt on her driveway."<br /><br />Did I mention that part?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yeeeeaaaa</span>.<br /><br />The sewer line happens to run right on our property line next to her, and the space there is VERY narrow.<br /><br />Which means all the dirt that got excavated? Yea. It's lying on her property next to her precious driveway. Not ON her driveway - she still has plenty of room to back out - just NEXT to her driveway.<br /><br />Which gives me great pleasure.<br /><br />We came to find out a few days later from another neighbor that the Crazy old Lady is concerned about the hole that some "weird people" dug in her yard. She was worried that they would never come and fill it back in.<br /><br />You know...those crazy bands of freaky hole-diggers that roam the Bay Area looking for driveways to trench.<br /><br />Well, at least she didn't think aliens were involved.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-11730659031897887272007-03-14T17:01:00.000-07:002007-03-14T17:10:27.869-07:00WARNING: Don't go topless on our street<p class="MsoNormal">Things had been pretty quiet on <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">Crazy Lady Lane</st1:address></st1:Street>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We were settling in to our new abode at a comfortable pace. Crazy Lady next door seemed to be leaving us alone since her attempt at having our car towed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Overall, things were getting to be quite peachy.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Saturdays around the Russell household usually consists of coffee and breakfast cozied up on the couch in front of a home improvement show. Sort of an early morning pep talk for the rest of the day. Feeling freshly inspired we’ll pull on our grubs and get started on the latest project that has our attention.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Around our house, that could mean any one of 237 projects we currently have going.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And on any given Saturday we could be working on 1 single project.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or 22.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Because we have what I call PADD.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or Project Attention Deficit Disorder.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>(I self medicate with wine)<br /><br />I seem to recall that the Saturday that I am slowly getting my story around to, was one of the Saturdays where we had at least 4 things going on. <p class="MsoNormal">It was late morning and I was walking out front, probably AWAY from something that was annoying me and in search of either something else to catch my attention, or Trevor – so he could fix it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Out front I stumbled across Trevor and one of our neighbors.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This was very exciting at the time because up until now we had only briefly met two of our neighbors.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Being the new homeowner that I am I had all these delusions of moving into to our FABULOUS new house and meeting all our FABULOUS new neighbors. We would all become GREAT friends, invite each other over for spontaneous dinners on our patios, drink wine on Sunday evenings, share gardening tips, housesit for each other, and enjoy many a quaint conversations over the fence whilst holding gardening shears mid-prune.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Because pruning the lemon trees is #34 on our project list.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And thanks to PADD, a friendly neighborly conversation over the fence is an excellent way of distracting me from work. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So imagine my dismay when we move in, get ticketed and cited for towing on two separate occasions, and have only managed to get a couple “hi, welcome to the neighborhoods!” in passing in the entire month we had been there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Granted it was the middle of winter and no one really hangs around outside with wine trying to coax you into their backyard on a Sunday evening with promises of a delicious meal.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Come to think of it, if anyone did that I might turn and run the other way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Anyway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What the hell was I getting at?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Seriously. People? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You have no idea what it is like to be me, and to try and blog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I read and REread my work repeatedly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And not because I’m anal.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well, there IS that too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But what I’m referring to is how many times I reread my work because I have gotten myself so off track that I have to recall what the hell my point was.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not including all the times I reread my work just to make sure I like what I wrote.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So by the time I’m done with a blog and ready to post, I have in all likelihood read the damn thing at least 12-15 times.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then I publish it – and go read it physically ON the blog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You got it…I find something ELSE wrong and have to go and edit it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Usually I’ve posted and reposted each one of my blogs at least 3-5 times.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Seriously.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And no, I don’t take any medications.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But hey, some people wash their hands repeatedly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m perfectly happy to just read and read and read and read my work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">OH MY GOD.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">NOW I have to go reread what I wrote so I can figure out what the hell I was writing about in the first place AGAIN…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ok, right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So Trevor and a neighbor were conversing in our front yard.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Naturally I go and butt in because I’m excited that not only has a neighbor approached us, but he also seems enthusiastic and very friendly.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>Definate possiblities for wine schmoozing on Sunday evenings. Or Tuesdays. Or Wednesday, Thursdays or Fridays evening.<br /><br />Point is, I'm not discriminatory over which night of the week I drink wine. Or schmooze.<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Our new neighbor John proved himself to be quite the valuable asset in just the first 10 minutes of making his acquaintance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Having lived on the street – just 2 houses down from the Crazy Lady – for 10 years, he has quite the load of gossip.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He LOVES to gossip.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We learned many an interesting fact in our first conversation with John.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Crazy Lady was born into the house she currently lives in. Her parents took ill when she was young (probably 20’s) and she was forced to take care of them having been their only child. She never dated, never married, her parents died and she has lived in the house ever since.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>(I'm thinking being a virgin has probably caused most, if not all, of her psychosis)<br /><p class="MsoNormal">There was some vague recollection about an ambulance having a hard time getting to the house during an emergency that has led to speculation as to why she obsesses about her driveway and cars parked in near proximity.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We suspect she has never even had a job – possibly never even made it off the island.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We learned that she apparently has calmed in her old age. John recalled many times he had been ticketed just for parking on the street – never mind near her house.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When she’s feeling particularly spirited she’ll even throw kitchen scraps on your windshield as a means to convey how she feels about your car being there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">More prodding and we got even more fascinating stories…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Neighborhood kids used to throw a ball around on the street since it’s a quiet cul-de-sac. Until one afternoon 4 cop cars came screeching around the corner with their sirens blaring because apparently she had called 911 reporting that there were “men with daggers” in her yard trying to “stab her”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We weren’t sure how much credit to give that story until a week later we met another neighbor – he shared a few Crazy Lady stories of his own, including a time he was playing ball with some friends when he was a kid and all these cops showed up because there had been an attempted stabbing reported by the Crazy Lady.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lastly, John shared with us a time a few years prior that some person visiting a friend on the street had the poor misfortune to not only park RIGHT in front of the Crazy Lady’s house, but in a convertible with the TOP DOWN.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">She marched right out front, threw her garden hose in the car, and turned it on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We have yet to verify that story with any other neighbors, but people?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The bitch is crazy!</p> We continued to keep a sense of humor about her.<br /><br />And Trevor never leaves the top down on his car.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-90789541379866827992007-03-06T16:42:00.000-08:002007-03-06T16:48:04.656-08:00The beat we live in.<p class="MsoNormal">Christmas came and went. We had no more cars ticketed, cited abandoned, or towed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Overall, a good holiday.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Come Tuesday Trevor decided to take advantage of his day off and head over to the police department and see if he could talk to someone there about the recent “issues” we had been having with the crazy old lady.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We thought it might be best to start some sort of record in case we had to push any kind of harassment suit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now, keep in mind we have always kept a sense of humor about our neighbor. We are not stressed, freaked out, angry, frustrated, or pissed off.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Life is too short - and seriously? This is pretty freakin' amusing. By the time that I'm writing this (oh, like 2 months after the fact), we actually look for ways to push our limits with the old bitch. I mean, really. We're not going anywhere, she's probably going to live to be 110, so we may as well make this a little entertaining.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But, that being said, we also know how fine a line it is between being annoying in a psychotically eclectic sort of way and being a flat out pain in the ass that’s costing us money.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We know how important it is to make sure your ass is covered when they stop being harmless, and start getting expensive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We’ve both dated people like that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, Trevor headed off to the small town <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> police station to file some sort of record with the station and ended up actually talking to the police officer that “runs our beat”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Apparently do we not only have just ONE cop that is in charge of our neighborhood…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But we live in a “beat”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Very nice guy as it turns out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A very nice guy that is very familiar with the “woman next door”. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Apparently she makes frequent calls to the police department for a whole litany of reasons. He informed Trevor to “not worry about it”, “she’s harmless”, and we’re “not special, she does this to everyone”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh gosh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And here I was hoping we were her “special” victims.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now that I know that she treats EVERYONE like this, I feel used.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So basically, as long as we continue to obey the law, and refrain from parking 6 inches into a red curb, we should be ok.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the most part that put our minds at ease. What anxiety we DID have about the issue anyway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But we were not looking forward to the frequent conversations we would be having with the police – scratch that – this one cop guy, because we knew we would soon begin a lot of construction around the house.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And neighbors usually don’t like construction.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And neighbors that already suck and have the police on speed-dial?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yea.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We were starting to think we should keep a box of donuts and a fresh brewed pot of coffee on hand every weekend.</p>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-33017713827865923662007-02-23T16:54:00.001-08:002007-02-23T17:04:32.743-08:00Abandoned vehicles and crazy mathI want it clearly on the record that we never actually wanted any ill will upon our neighbor.<br />A mysterious disappearance would have been welcomed. But we are for the most part GOOD people.<br />Mostly.<br />So when the ambulance pulled onto our quiet street, in our quiet town, on our quiet little island, we might have felt a little guilt for all the little snide remarks we had made at our neighbors expense over the past week.<br />But only momentarily.<br />I mean, come on! We're not fancy magical people! We didn't MAKE anything happen to her.<br />But there IS the bird story.<br />Another blog.<br />Make a mental note to remind to blog about the bird story.<br />So an ambulance pulls up outside our house and naturally we went to spy out our window to see what was going on.<br />As soon as I got to the window to inspect, our crazy neighbor was making her way to the back of the ambulance - fully dressed complete with shawl, handbag, and scarf covering her wily white hair. Within a few moments they packed up into the vehicle, and drove off.<br />And that was that.<br />And we, being the new neighbors on the block, knew NO ONE on the street to go and gossip with. By the time I had pulled on my shoes and jacket to go out and see if I could butt in on any sideline conversations <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurring</span> on the sidewalk, everyone had already cleared and gone back inside their respective homes.<br />Trevor and I were left to our own imaginations.<br />And over the next week, our imaginations had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">leaped</span> to the most likely scenario - we wouldn't be seeing her again.<br />Let me illustrate with the following calculation - known as The Relative Law of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pneumonia</span>:<br />(1 Old lady + 1 ambulance) / # days gone = % chance likely she will return<br />For example:<br />1+1 / 7 days gone = 28.5% chance likely she will return<br />That's science people.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ok</span>, maybe not.<br />I may have just made that up.<br />But I watch NUMB3RS and therefore consider myself a mathematical expert in all things elderly.<br />You know, I blame this nutty tangent on the coffee.<br />I am SO tired lately.<br />Which I blame on the washing machine.<br />The washing machine that is IN our kitchen and not in the basement.<br />Where the dryer is.<br />Make sense?<br />Yea, I didn't think so either.<br />Which is why we are building a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">laundry room</span> in the basement, so the washer and dryer can be united as a laundry collabarating<span style=""> </span>team!<br />The washing machine and microwave - not a great cleaning duo so much.<br />But the washing machine and dryer? Much better.<br />So, in the meantime, on the weekends, I am acting as an assistant contractor to my husband, part drill <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">sergeant</span>, part <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Nazi</span>.<br />Hence the coffee.<br />Hence the weird mathematical <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">chitter</span> chatter.<br />Hence the awful digression into talking about laundry equipment when I'm trying to stay on the topic of our crazy neighbor and her joy ride in an ambulance.<br />But at least I haven't broken into rambling directives in German.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ok</span>, back on task!<br />So.<br />Um...<br />Right, she was gone awhile.<br />Like, 10 days.<br />And we were SO sure she wouldn't be coming back. She's old and was taken away by ambulance - my money was on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pneumonia</span> and either hospitalization in an old person's home, or death.<br />I'm not going to sugar coat by the way - I've already veered off topic a couple times already and this blog is taking on great lengths, and finding a more discreet way of explaining that we believed she may have died will just take up more space, and require more effort on my part.<br />You know, like explaining how I won't sugar coat something takes up time and space.<br />Exactly like that.<br />Ahem.<br />Oh my god. What is WITH the random tangents today?<br />Let us circle back to the story.<br />Friday afternoon - the Friday before Christmas - our elderly little neighbor was returned to her house. I must admit I was pretty <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ambivalent</span> about the situation. At that point in time we hadn't really interacted with her much, and therefore didn't know any better.<br />Know any better - meaning NOW, retrospectively as I write this, I NOW know better and believe it would have been nicer if she didn't return.<br />But at that point in time, being ignorant on her CRAZY ways, and being a decent person, I thought it was nice that she didn't die at least.<br />Even if she did have police on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">speed dial</span>.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Ok</span>, so remember this: it was late Friday afternoon.<br />FRIDAY<br />Got it? You will need to remember this little nugget.<br />Saturday morning comes, Christmas eve, and Trevor and I were getting a few things in order before we head out of town for Christmas eve dinner...when Trevor discovered his car had been cited as an abandoned vehicle.<br />His car.<br />His well maintained, clean, relatively new car.<br />The car he drove to the ferry terminal the day before.<br />The car he drives to and from the ferry terminal every day of the week in order to get to work.<br />Abandoned?<br />And the citation? Was of the variety reserved for those cars you see on the side of the road, with piles of leaves and garbage accumulating under them, usually of the old and beat-up variety. The very kind of citation that claims the car has been abandoned for more than 72 hours and will be towed and impounded at the owner's expense if it is not moved within 72 more hours.<br />Upon contacting the 800 # on the citation, Trevor learned a few interesting tidbits of info:<br />- The parking department was on vacation all week and therefore an officer was dispatched when someone (ahem) called in the "abandoned" vehicle. Therefore, they didn't "know any better" and just cited the car as abandoned.<br />- The person who called in the citation was "the lady neighbor next door"<br />So, to recap what happened:<br />- Crazy lady comes home from hospital at roughly 4pm on Friday evening<br />- Crazy lady calls parking enforcement Saturday morning, claims Trevor's car has been "abandoned" and asks that it be towed<br />Now, if we do a little math (bear with me here, this time it's not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">convoluted</span>), we learn that 72 hours PRIOR to when the car was cited was...Wednesday morning.<br />Remember that thing about Friday?<br />3 weeks in our new house at this point and we've learned two valuable lessons about our neighbor:<br />1) she's very protective about her driveway<br />2) she's a LIAR<br />Fortunately our cities parking enforcement department is very understanding and we were let off the hook.<br />At the time I thought they were just laid back and nice.<br />But in hindsight?<br />We now know that they have had PLENTY of experience dealing with the "neighbor lady next door".maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-80362050732421060922007-02-08T17:25:00.000-08:002007-02-08T17:27:49.410-08:00How many midget burglars w/poor troubleshooting skills do you know?<p class="MsoNormal">Coffee cup in hand, I was enjoying my first Saturday morning as a home owner. Still in my bathrobe, I had been up maybe 20 minutes and I was in the living room marveling at how nice the sunlight comes into our front two rooms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m being serious.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This is what being a homeowner is like in the beginning.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Much like a new romantic relationship, you find incredible enjoyment at the littlest of things. Finding out the heater works? Leaves you beaming all day long. The hot water not only works fast, but lasts a whole shower? FANTASTIC!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It can be sickening and downright boring to everyone else, but to you? Yes, the fact that you have a sunny living room is, like, the highlight of your morning. Because it is YOUR living room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Um.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My point here…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh – right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I’m in the living room, bathrobe adorned, coffee sipping, sun marveling, and there’s a knock at the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What the hell. It’s 8 in the freakin’ morning on a Saturday and there’s someone at our door already?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I tip toe to the door (because we have creaky floors) (and yes, for the record, we love those too), and I peak through the peephole.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Why, there’s a man who looks an awful lot like a cop standing on our porch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Seriously?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We’ve been in the house all of 7 days and we’re already being visited by the police?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Just fabulous.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Being the good law-abiding residents that we are, I open the door figuring there must be some random explanation for our uniformed visitor, and it couldn’t possibly involve us breaking the law.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cop guy: “Is that your car parked out there ma’am?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(I quickly make note that he’s pointing at Trevor’s car that is parked at the curb directly in front of our house)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me: “Yes.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cop guy: “Would you mind moving it please? Your neighbor next door has called and complained that she cannot get her car out of the driveway.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(At this point I’ve sized up that the car is a bit close to the driveway)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cop guy continues: “She wanted us to come and tow the vehicle…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(Tow? TOW? Why the hell didn’t she just come and ask us to move it forward 12 inches?)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cop guy: “…however, if it’s yours and you’re able to move it…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(um, YEA)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cop guy: “…I’d rather we just do that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(I’d rather we just do that too)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me: “Uh, yea, bit of a no-brainer there. I’ll get dressed and take care of it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">At this point I’d like to provide a little bit of background information…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->We were warned by the previous owner’s brother (the surviving heir) that the neighbor next door is a bit “crazy”. Given that the previous owner’s brother was a bit on the “loo-loo” side himself, we just assumed she was “old-lady crazy” and figured we wouldn’t hear much from her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Of all the driveways on the block, hers is the only one with painted red on either side.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->For the record: Trevor’s car was technically in the red, but not blocking the driveway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now I’d like to provide a little bit of background information on the neighbors garage/driveway situation:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Her house makes our house look good (we bought a “fixer-upper”)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Her garage should be leveled as it is clearly a deathtrap for any rats that live in it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->At this point in the game, we were not entirely sure of her even owning a car, let alone housing it in the deathtrap-for-rats garage of hers. I.e. she had not driven a car in the time we had been there, and therefore, well, what the hell was all the URGENCY about?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Her driveway is no more than a dirt pad with tire marks. At the foot is a small 3 foot high fence that runs the length of the foot of her drive and then stops at our property line. The fence is locked at all times by a chain and padlock. Additionally, she stakes two pieces of rebar into the ground against the fence and wedges them in place by large rocks. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0.25in;">We assume this is her idea of a “secure gated driveway”. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">Note: the fence ends at our property line where there is NO fence to continue on from there. So, if any intruder is thwarted by the chain/padlock/rebar/rock security system, and they don’t think to merely step OVER the fence, then they can just walk around the fence on our property line and get onto her property that way. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">To do what exactly, I don’t know. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">I suppose what I’m getting at here is that her security system is probably only effective on midget burglars with poor troubleshooting skills.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Trevor’s car was encroaching on her driveway and I headed out to move it. At which point I discovered a parking ticket on the windshield.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To sum up:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->the night before Trevor parked the car and didn’t pull far enough forward.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->at 7pm the Crazy Old Lady (from this point forward will be referred to as the <st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">COL</st1:state></st1:place>) called the police and they came and ticketed the car for inappropriate parking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=""> </span></span><!--[endif]-->at 8am the following morning she called the police, apparently appalled that the car hadn’t budged in 12 hours, and asked them to come tow the car.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not once did she come by and ask us to move the car.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Given this was our first interaction with the <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">COL</st1:place></st1:state>, we gave her the benefit of the doubt. She’s old, lives alone, probably isolated. I figured she felt intimidated about coming and introducing herself, and maybe she didn’t even realize it was our car. We’re new to the neighborhood, she probably hadn’t noticed what kind of cars we drive at this point.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh how empathetic and benefit-of-the-doubting I can be sometimes.</p>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-2977619848948725992007-02-06T16:08:00.000-08:002007-02-06T16:14:46.979-08:00Being Good Neighbors<p class="MsoNormal">Upon buying a new house and moving into a new neighborhood everyone has different ideas about how they will get along with their neighbors. Some may only hope to be on a first name basis after awhile, making a brief acknowledgment in passing from front door to car. Others may hope to aspire to a greater level of friendliness, sharing recipes over the fence, trusting each other with house sitting responsibilities, and maybe sharing a drink from time to time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I can tell you however, that there are not likely many people who hope that they will have a neighbor who calls the police on them 4 times in 3 weeks.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">No. Not likely.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But Trevor and I have been blessed with such a neighbor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do not despair however – we find only humor in our “eclectic” crazy old lady neighbor. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Since we find such great humor in her antics, it became abundantly clear to me that I should begin what I will call the Crazy Lady Chronicles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To date I have four solid stories to share, as well as miscellaneous anecdotes to pepper here and there. Amidst my trying to blog regularly on Bloggity Woggity and Never Ending Projects, I will try to throw in a CLC entry.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And like all things certain in life, I’m sure the CL next door will provide me with many more little ditty’s to share with my blog audience. I anticipate she will be great fodder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That being said…I will post my first entry of the Crazy Lady Chronicles shortly.</p>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-7395834389607696342007-02-01T17:23:00.000-08:002007-02-01T17:49:03.339-08:00Time for the fingerTime is a fickle friend of mine lately.<br />It seems that ever since we bought our house, I have no time to get to all the things that need getting to. But when I'm at the office, time sloooooooooooooooowwwwwssssssss down.<br />No offense to my job - but it's just not where I want to be right now.<br />How frustrating is that?<br />But that's not really my point of blogging this afternoon.<br />My point of blogging at this very moment is because a random stranger pissed me off at lunch.<br /><br />So, let me drag my soapbox over here and take a moment to set the record straight.<br /><br />Attention you stupid bitch with the bad attitude:<br /><br />Should I choose to park in a spot at Whole Foods, that is my right. If there are no signs posted to the contrary, that means I may park there for as long as I please. If what pleases me is to take whatever time necessary to put my bag in my trunk, get in the car, plug my iPod into my car charger, take off my coat, and THEN back out of my parking spot - that is my right.<br />Let me review YOUR rights...<br />You reserve the right to vulture. I do not necessarily condone this behavior, or practice it in general unless absolutely necessary, but I will admit that you have technical right to block half the lane with your fancy car and wait for someone to move so you may park. You reserve the right to wait as long as you feel is necessary. You reserve the right to stay put rather than drive and find a spot, perhaps 10 yards away, because my spot is closer. You have that right yes.<br />Let me review what is NOT your right...<br />Upon my vacating what was previously MY spot, YOU do NOT have the right to HONK at me and then as I look in my rearview to see why I'm being honked at, GIVE ME THE FINGER.<br />No.<br />This is not your right.<br />I will not apologise for taking a mere 20 seconds to dock my iPod and take off my coat. I will not apologise for making you wait a couple more seconds for a parking spot that is no more yours than mine. I will not apologise for the precious 20 seconds you feel robbed of - 20 seconds you will be later to your nail appointment, 20 seconds that are just NOT significant in the grand scheme of things.<br />20 seconds that (coming from someone who would love a little more time in her day as my intro to this blog will support) will not KILL you to loose.<br />I do admit that the one thing I am sorry for is not stopping my car and asking you what the hell your problem is.<br />Because clearly you have some judgement skills issues that need refining. Either that or you have Tourette's of the hand.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-55281634978682698242007-01-22T17:17:00.000-08:002007-01-22T17:40:55.837-08:00The MAHB is over!Ok, so let's just pretend that there hasn't been a huge lapse of time where I have been nothing but silent.<br />We all know that I have neglected my blog...and I could go on for the next 5 minutes coming up with excuses, ingratiating myself to my fans (i.e. one fan - hi Mom! Did you get my email yesterday by the way?).<br />But if I had the time to do that, I would have been blogging this whole time - instead of pretending that I was going to get around to it any day now.<br />Any. Day. Now.<br />Yep yep...just need to find a little time.<br />Any daaaaay...sssss...er...months...now.<br />We could refer to that space in time as the time that Mary Avoided Her Blog. Or the MAHB.<br />Pronounce: Maw-b.<br />Like "the mob that has been stalking Mary, trying to get her to blog more".<br />Moving right along.<br />So I get round to logging into Blogger to get a little blog going, only to find that there is some new and fancily improved upon version of Blogger. Thank you Google.<br />Google is slowly taking over the world.<br />Naturally, being the early adopter that I try to be, I initiated the conversion of my account from the old, archaic caveman's version of blogger, to the new! and improved! and super-duper crazy fun and exciting Blogger!<br />Only to find things are pretty much the same.<br />And I get this email...congratulating me on my switch over, and OH BOY now I can start using the new Blogger right away!<br />Google, if you're going to take over the world, you're going to have to be a little more exciting than just changing the font on some of the buttons.<br />But who am I to judge. You were probably hoping I wouldn't notice because I haven't blogged since, like, June, or something.<br />Oh you misjudged dear Google. I may not remember to bring my laptop into the office, and quite frequently I've tried to go to work in my slippers (not intentionally I should point out), but I DO remember totally insignificant things like what Blogger used to look like.<br />Perhaps I am too quick to make assumptions here.<br />I will attempt to blog again. Soon. With more rapid a succession than once every 6 months.<br />And perhaps I will be wowed by some "feature" or "tool" that I haven't quite stumbled across just yet.<br />We shall see.<br />Oh yes.<br />We SHALL see.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(not sure which I'm doubting more at this point: the idea that I may find a cool new feature hidden within Blogger...or whether or not I will actually blog anytime soon)</span>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1151391136241352282006-06-26T23:29:00.000-07:002006-06-26T23:52:16.263-07:00Still kicking...Day 9 of my life sans The Husband and I have only one thing to say to his new employers:<br /><br />"SEND HIM HOME NOW"<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />You know, I'm a fairly independent woman, but this is getting ridiculous. 9 days? with 4 more to go?<br /><br />Hello?!?<br /><br />I want my husband home.<br /><br />Now.<br /><br />At least he's doing well - enjoying his new job, causing havoc wherever he turns, shaking up the system, being wild! and crazy!<br /><br />Saturday I finally got to hear his voice, which, as it turns out, when you haven't talked to your spouse in about 6 days, can make you downright giddy. Like we just started dating giddy.<br /><br />It's the little things no?<br /><br />He made it to Atlanta - phase 2 of his training regimen. Apparently things are going well with work, and he's feeling productive and inspired. But he's ready to come home.<br /><br />And, um, yea...I want him home now too.<br /><br />Sure does free up a girl in the evenings to do stuff though.<br /><br />Like Blog.<br /><br />And drink wine.<br /><br />And stress about all the things scheduled to be accomplished over the summer.<br /><br />Or drunkenly stress about all the schlings sledgluled to accompliss over the slummmmmer.<br /><br />Shoot me now.<br /><br />But don't you worry about me.<br /><br />I'm not really drunk. See? Totally coherent.<br /><br />Look at that! Using words like "coherent".<br /><br />Oh, and I have my cats too. So, no worries!<br /><br />Did I mention one of my cats is a vomiter?<br /><br />Yea.<br /><br />And I have wine. Did I mention the wine?<br /><br />Yea, so even though my Husband is gone, I have my vomiting cats and boxed wine.<br /><br />Oh, I know you're tempted to feel sorry for me right about now.<br /><br />But oh no! You should be envious. Really. Be envious.<br /><br />I think right about now is a good time to go take my wine, a book, and a cat (or two) to the couch and wind down for the evening.<br /><br />Alone.<br /><br />Sans my husband.<br /><br />Hmpf.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1151100678732981122006-06-23T15:04:00.000-07:002006-06-23T15:23:09.140-07:00Send wine. And maybe some boxes.<p class="MsoNormal">As much as I’m sure all of you have been enjoying my silence…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Who am I kidding…are any of you even checking my blog with any regularity anymore?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Hello?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Anyone?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So you all will have to excuse the unintentional void that has been my blog for, what, like months and month and more months?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last you checked in here, I got a new job.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That “new job” is no longer something I would consider “new”. It has quickly become the old crotchety pain in the ass job that we all love because it pays our bills, but makes us yearn for our weekends with even more vigor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have been pushed, pulled, wrung out, hung out, and left to pick up the pieces. I’m sure I saw new wrinkles on my face last week, every day I’m sure I’ll find my first grey hair (none yet thank you God!), can’t stay awake past 11pm, and have (for the first time) officially said “I need a glass of wine” upon coming home before kissing my husband hello.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And have subsequently done that at least 5 more times in the past 2 weeks.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We go through a lot of wine now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Good thing they sell the good stuff in boxes now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s all part of being the new kid on the block.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You start a new job and you have a rookie card.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a while you get to know your way around the office and your rookie card slowly starts to make fewer appearances.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then you are held completely accountable for anything and everything. Rookie no more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then the person you are replacing LEAVES.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then the shit hits the fan – 78 things all go wrong at the same time – and you want to take up Cocaine.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But you can’t because you’re vain and like that little piece of flesh that divides your nostrils into two distinct holes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And these 78 things? Not your fault. Not in the least.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It’s just the universe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Playing a funny, ha-ha, trick on you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">78 totally unusual, unlikely, blue-moon, perfectly aligned stars, kind of things happen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">All within 2 weeks of each other.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And all of this is going down at work while some particularly crazy things are happening in your private life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This is the real reason I’m blogging today.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To make a few announcements to the blogosphere on behalf of myself and my husband.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(Clearing throat)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today I would like to make a few statements, and then provide a few answers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If I do not answer a question here – it is entirely likely we don’t have one as of yet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes in life, we just don’t know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And no, I’m not pregnant. So all you family members out there can stop getting excited.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are the developments (roughly in order):</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->we decided to sell the house</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->The husband lost his job</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->The husband graduated</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->The husband started a new job</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->The husband is currently in France (bastard)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are some answers regarding the house:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->yes, we are selling it to our partner</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->the transaction will roughly take place early July – we will be moving out by end of July</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->yes, we will be moving apartments, most likely up the <st1:place st="on">Peninsula</st1:place></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->no, we don’t know if we’re buying another house</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->no, we don’t know where we’re going to live</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->yes, we’re considering moving apartments because it is no longer strategically located near our jobs</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are some answers regarding The Husband loosing his job</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->they were evil bastards and we hated their guts</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are some answers regarding The Husbands new job:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->he’s in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> for training (bastard)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->no, we are not moving to <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> (so very sad)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">-<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->his new office is in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">San Francisco</st1:city></st1:place> in a very high building with a view of Pac Bell park from his desk (did I mention he’s a bastard?)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ok, that’s it! Band Aid is off!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As you can see, we’ve been, um, busy. And it’s far from over. As I see it, we’ll be moving twice in the next 2 or 3 months.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We are certainly embarking on the next chapter in our lives. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Actually, I think we’ve really crammed 4 or 5 chapters into just 3 months. But, you know, I don’t mind change, and it’s nice to get it all over with right?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Groan.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I need a vacation.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But we can’t take one because we both started new jobs and have no vacation time saved up! And any time we DO take off is going to be used for MOVING.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sigh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If anyone needs me I’ll be at Target stocking up on boxed wine.</p>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1144714393363830702006-04-10T17:00:00.000-07:002006-04-10T17:16:13.853-07:00New job? Wha?So Thursday came like any other day.<br /><br />Only I was laid off.<br /><br />But, you know, whatever.<br /><br />It didn't really bother me, so I went to the gym like I do on any other day around noon time. And then I headed home, ate lunch, loaded my resume on a few job sites, sent my resume to a few job listings.<br /><br />By 5pm the phone rang, by 5:30 I had an interview for noon on Friday.<br /><br />So Friday came like any other day.<br /><br />Only I didn't have a job to go to. I had an old cube to pack up and an interview to get to at noon.<br /><br />By noon I was at my interview, by 2pm I was on my way out the door confident I nailed the job. I went to the gym, worked off some adrenaline, and by 5pm I accepted a verbal job offer over the phone.<br /><br />Yes, that WAS fast.<br /><br />I still have no idea how it happened really.<br /><br />But all I know is that tomorrow FedEx will bring me a big fat juicy job package to look over and sign, and Monday I have a cush new job with totally amazing, young, hip, and fun people. I will work in a building where I have to take an elevator, where there are views of the SF bay out of the office windows, where I will officially have "moved up". A job where people hired me for my "expertise" and "experience", people who have no idea how to accomplish what they want without someone like me. People, apparently I am a subject matter expert on something. Apparently I am an "asset".<br /><br />It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself in just 24 hours.<br /><br />All because I was laid off on Thursday.<br /><br />I'll miss my old job, my hypothetical one that is. But shit, I was so ready for this.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1143746632744057842006-03-30T10:42:00.000-08:002006-03-30T11:26:53.840-08:00Prêt-à-Porter, except notI've procrastinated long enough. It is high time I made a decision about what the hell I'm going to wear to this wedding on Saturday.<br /><br />Why fret do you ask? Why on earth is this such a difficult decision?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(first I use "ditty" recently and now "fret"? What is WRONG with me?)</span><br /><br />Well, for one the problem is that it's me making this decision. I like to make clothing and accessory decisions more difficult than they really should be. But mostly the problem is because there are a few unconventional things to consider:<br /><br />- the ceremony will be followed by a "Casual BBQ party"<br />- it is requested that attendees wear "comfy picnic clothes"<br />- it will be an OUTDOOR event, rain will not cancel<br />- and even though this bears no significance on what I will wear, I felt it necessary to point out that it is noted in the evite that this will be an "alcohol free family event" so that I can gleam the appropriate amount of sympathy for going to an event where there will be lots of screaming kids and NO ALCOHOL<br /><br />So, in short, what I am presented with here is: A MAJOR DILEMMA<br /><br />What the hell do I wear?<br /><br />I feel very odd about wearing jeans to a wedding. But I almost feel as though I have no choice considering it will be outside and WET. Even if it doesn't rain ON the day in question, it has been raining for like the past 212 days which means everything will be damp.<br /><br />And what if it does rain? I don't exactly feel excited about hanging around outside wearing a cute spring-y top. So what? Do I go clad in jeans, and a fuzzy sweater? Sport some boots and a rain coat? Hell, why don't I grab myself one of those ponchos they wear to outdoor sporting events when it rains. Maybe I'll paint my face while I'm at it and throw on a big foam finger.<br /><br />"Hey Bride lady...what are your colors? Yea...I'm painting my face for the wedding and I thought it would be cute if I matched your theme."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(Does one even have colors when they throw a BBQ reception?)</span><br /><br />Who the hell plans for an OUTDOOR wedding in early April anyway? Huh? HUH? Ever hear the phrase "April showers brings May flowers"? Yea, funny thing about that saying. They said it because there is usually a good chance we get RAIN in APRIL.<br /><br />Stupid. This is so frick-frick-FRICKEN stupid.<br /><br />And NO alcohol.<br /><br />So even if I end up dressed totally inappropriately, there will be no alcohol to both sooth my annoyance and warm me from within.<br /><br />And the kids? Oh my god, there will be swarms of them. And half of which have all kinds of developmental disorders...<br /><br />And no alcohol.<br /><br />Did I mention that part?maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1143162807984232702006-03-23T15:11:00.000-08:002006-03-23T17:17:36.750-08:00It's a superb product actuallyOk, so apparently Junket is not a commonly known desert item.<br /><br />I've gotten a couple "what the fuck is Junket?" comments since my last post.<br /><br />Well, it's yumminess basically. It's a tasty little treat that my grandmother used to make every day as a snack for my sister and I.<br /><br />Back when technically having a "desert" for an afternoon snack was considered not only acceptable but downright typical. Gotta miss those days. Having desert for a snack nowadays may be <span style="font-style: italic;">typical </span>for most American kids, however it is looked upon shamefully and with disgust considering the Nation's issue with childhood obesity.<br /><br />You know what? To that I say make them run their little asses around for a while occasionally - you're not going to stay a healthy weight sitting on your duff playing Grand Theft Auto 27 all day long.<br /><br />And there I go with the digressing already.<br /><br />So! Junket!<br /><br />Observe how overtly dedicated the manufacturer has stayed to maintaining their level of marketing trendiness:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1224/1242/1600/prod_tablets.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1224/1242/320/prod_tablets.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And their <a href="http://www.junketdesserts.com/">website</a> only backs me up on this even more.<br /><br />Yes, people. We apparently still reside in the 70's.<br /><br />So yes, Junket does still in fact exist - much to my pleasure.<br /><br />I shall have to locate it and make some. It appears I may have to actually order it online as I have not noticed it gracing many grocery store shelves in my area.<br /><br />And to answer the question "what the fuck is Junket?", according to the website it's a:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >"</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:VERDANA,ARIAL;font-size:85%;color:BLACK;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Superb product that can be used to prepare various delightful desserts for the whole family to enjoy!"<br /></span><br /></span>Wee fun! It makes me want to go right out and have a superbly delightful experience with my whole family!<br /><br />But more specifically it's these little tablets that looks like pills - and when you add them to scalded milk they dissolve and by means that can only be explained by using words such as "magic!" and "miraculously!" the milk solidifies into a sweet custard-y likeness. The kind that reminds me of He-Man and She-Ra, Smurfs, and all the other fabulous 80's shows that came on between the hours of 3pm and 5pm, Monday through Friday.<br /><br />And there we have it.<br /><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:VERDANA,ARIAL;font-size:100%;color:BLACK;" ></span>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1143075101056347682006-03-22T16:22:00.000-08:002006-03-22T16:52:39.620-08:00Layered gelatinous substance known as...Jello 123?<br /><br />Anyone?<br /><br />Ring any bells?<br /><br />Jello 123 is one of those things that I am aware existed. The name itself does not register ignorance or stupification on my part.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> (I mean, a lot of things do, so when something does </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">not </span><span style="font-style: italic;">render me stupified I consider it cause for cheering and lots of celebration)</span><br /></div><br />However, this past weekend it was made clear to me that while I am familiar with this little diddy from the past - I had NO IDEA what the hell it was or, most importantly, DID.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> (Did I just say "diddy"?)</span><br /><br />People - it is a magically layered gelatinous desert that is made just like jello. Only it's layered? Layers people! It's fancy, and different, and I apparently had no idea that such a fanciness ever existed.<br /><br />Not until I was digging through our pantry and discovered 2 faded pink little boxes that had obviously been designed by marketers living in the 80's.<br /><br />My Husband, you see...he had these from who knows how long ago. And they have just sat in our pantry all this time, untouched, unblended, unLAYERED.<br /><br />Naturally I was curious. I was dubious, in fact, that I was somehow familiar with this product, but had no clue what the product was or did.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> (This is, as it turns out, how I recall most of the 80's. Vague recollection, many familiarities, but limited memories or actual knowledge of what things existed or how they worked)</span><br /><br />So I got out the blender.<br /><br />And I followed the directions very carefully - not wanting to mess with the magic.<br /><br />And as I poured the frothy jello like fluid into cups...there was layering.<br /><br />Yes.<br /><br />They were layering all on their own.<br /><br />There was no intervention on my part required. They merely layered into 3 separate layers, one red, one pink, and one white.<br /><br />I'm thinking that's where the "123" comes into play. I could be wrong, but I have a strong suspicion.<br /><br />Poof! Magic!<br /><br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">(like how I'm now inserting my thoughts amongst my blogging?)</span><br /><br />And then my husband goes and Google's "jello 123" and discovers that Jello is no longer manufacturing the delightful little product due to "limited interest" on the consumer's part.<br /><br />To that I say "balk!" and "Scoff!" and "WHATEVER!".<br /><br />Are the "consumer's" aware of the magical layering? Because it seems obvious to me that perhaps if Jello were more clear about this in their marketing of the product then perhaps the "limited interest" would become "well received by the public" and then I would be able to buy this stuff whenever I wanted to.<br /><br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">(I mean, it's not like I'm not already just thinking out loud...like, what else is blogging if it's not</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> thinking out loud?)</span><br /><br />But now I can probably only acquire this stuff off of ebay. Which I'm not inclined to do considering how skeptical I was at using our own box given how old it was. Why would I want to buy someone else's ancient Jello product that has god only knows what kind of insects nesting in it?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> (and now I'm just distracting you from some pretty scintillating contemplation on my part)<br /><br /></span>So I'll just make up the last box with a heavy heart, knowing that it will be the last Jello 123 I will ever consume. Perhaps even document the experience.<br /><br />Maybe I'll start reviving old deserts from the 70's and 80's.<br /><br />Next week we will be discussing Junket.<br /><br />Wait. Does anyone know if you can still buy Junket?maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1138134700918233862006-01-24T12:28:00.000-08:002006-01-24T12:31:40.940-08:00For those of you who are interested...Even though I'm failing miserably at this whole consistent blogging thing...I'm going to be blogging on our projects blog quite regularly (ha!) since we seem to be up to our ta-ta's in projects. And I like to keep a journal on these kinds of things.<br /><br />For those of you who are interested you can find us <a href="http://www.travelswithtrouble.com/blog/index.htm">here</a>.<br /><br />And who knows, maybe I'll actually be consistent.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1135196899642445052005-12-21T12:25:00.000-08:002005-12-21T12:28:19.656-08:00What's in a name?<div style="text-align: left; font-family: arial;" class=""> <div style="text-align: left;"></div> <span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Finally! Somthing other than "Mother of God"<br /><br />Mary</span></span> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div> Bitter : Hebrew<br /> You are charming, talented and have a very positive attitude to life so it is hardly surprising that you attract success and recognition. Focussed and patient you understand that material rewards are a result of discipline. Being so creative and with a need for self-expression you may be drawn towards the arts, travel is also likely to be important. A loyal friend, you are a person who must be allowed freedom and independence.</div>maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1135106930806779562005-12-20T10:30:00.000-08:002005-12-20T11:28:50.833-08:00...and stuffWell, this is just a whole new low for me.<br /><br />Over a month.<br /><br />Over a month has passed and I have not even logged into Blogger ONCE to start a blog. There's a good chance that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind to log on either. Sure, that's a pretty good bet.<br /><br />Hello? You should probably pick yourselves off the floor by now. I mean, those of you (who are few in quantity by now I'm sure) who actually waste the 5 seconds it takes to cruise by my blog to see if I've even blogged anything of late. Which, the odds usually aren't favoring.<br /><br />But look at me! Here I am! I found some time and now I'm blogging. And I will be making no promises. Because apparently that only jinxes me and then I don't write for chunks of time.<br /><br />In fact, I BAWK at blogging.<br /><br />Blogging-schmogging.<br /><br />I shall never make an attempt to blog again.<br /><br />(we'll see if this will arouse some rebellion in me)<br /><br />Good lord what a ka-raaaaazy month this has been. I suppose this is typical for the holidays. But peeps? Seriously. This is by far the most insane holiday season for me yet and most of the things that have kept me busy are SO NOT the most holiday-ee-esque.<br /><br />Stomach virus? Sure, definite correlation between illnesses and the holidays. However, I assure you I wasn't exactly humming Christmas carols to myself while voiding the contents of my stomach at 3 in the morning.<br /><br />Then our trip out to Denver was fun, but short lived, and mostly split between recuperation from the previous week spent vomiting and cheering husband on as he begrudgingly studied for HOURS. Who's idea was it to schedule midterms right after Turkey day?<br /><br />And ok, ok - Thanksgiving is officially clumped in as "The Holidays". So there was ONE thing lately that I par-took in that was holiday related.<br /><br />But if you ask Halmark "the Holidays" begins way back with Memorial Day. Seriously. Halloween decorations at the 4th of July?<br /><br />A Fast trip to Miami was loads of fun. Yes. Trip #2. That makes two airplane related travel thingies within 2 weeks. And I'm sure you'll all agree that traveling, especially at great distances, saps an additional 2 days from your schedule to allow for laundry, packing, un-packing, re-packing, and shopping in preparation for packing. And that's just before your trip.<br /><br />Oh, and hey! I may even blog about our trip! Wouldn't that be neato.<br /><br />And oh god, then there's work. Work, which by the very name implies, is worky-like.<br /><br />Blah.<br /><br />I've come to love my job. I love how it's morphed into something that keeps me thinking. On the stairclimber, in the shower, in the car. I'm constantly thinking about things I want to do, projects I want to start, presentations, trainings, meetings, ack ack ack.<br /><br />But my job? Even busier lately.<br /><br />There was, like, a week there where I seriously thought I was going to forget to put shoes on before leaving in the morning. The BestFriend will attest to the very sad state I was in from all the stress and Kuh-rah-zy-ness that was going on. That's right. Kuh-rah-zy-ness.<br /><br />And oh yea - Husband had his finals. My follow up question to the midterms post-turkey day question would be: and then why do you go and schedule finals just 3 weeks after midterms?<br /><br />But no shoes were forgotten! We made it through. And now I find myself, one week from Christmas, and a crap load of shopping to accomplish.<br /><br />But that is ok. Normally I would be groaning all the way to the mall two days before the big day.<br /><br />You see, I used to be this person who was constantly trying to rekindle that christmassy feeling she got every year when she was a kid. Somewhere between 17 and 19 that feeling just dissipated. Phase? Byproduct of life in general? Who knows. It was just gone.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. I still totally loved the holidays. I would go to parties, enjoy the lights, douse my car with sap and bring a tree home. But that added feeling was always gone. That warm fuzzy one. The one that makes you want to just sit by your tree, with all the lights out, and sip a cider.<br /><br />That's it.<br /><br />Just sit there and smile to yourself. Feeling all the goodness and happiness that just being in the middle of the Christmas season gives you.<br /><br />A feeling that had just disappeared.<br /><br />And this year it returned on Saturday.<br /><br />Nearly 10 years has passed. And I couldn't tell you why. But the leading contender of suspicions is that I just stopped fighting for it. I just stopped looking for it and wishing it was there when it wasn't.<br /><br />That and I baked recently. That always makes a difference.<br /><br />The whole weekend the Husband and I shopped, and relaxed, wrapped presents, and were just generally content. And it rained and stormed outside, and we had our fire and our tree and I relished every moment of it.<br /><br />The Christmas fuzziness is back and I couldn't be happier to have it.<br /><br />So I sit here, tip-tapping away at my keyboard with my Christmas music playing.<br /><br />Can't wait for the weekend.<br /><br />Can't wait for our New Year's stint out to Washington DC.<br /><br />Yes, trip #3 in a 45 day period.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1131738721828028052005-11-11T11:51:00.000-08:002005-11-11T12:04:52.190-08:00Holy Smoking Washing Machines Batman!Ok - so I'm SORT of habitual about this whole blogging thing.<br /><br />This is like the third time this week! Yea me!<br /><br />So I thought I might make good on tying up a few loose ends in the Blog universe. Today I will be concluding the story that I mentioned I may or may not get around to in regards to laundry. I bet you are all on the edge of your seats now, reading faster, heart rates sky-rocketing.<br /><br />Because Laundry is SO hot. So scintillating. SO fabulomatastisk!<br /><br />Ok, fine. See <a href="http://bloggitywoggity.blogspot.com/2005/10/thursday-blues.html">here</a>.<br /><br />If you work your way down, past the half way mark, after a bunch of rambling, blabbing, and general pro-brevity sentiment, you will find a remark I made about our washing machine.<br /><br />To be exact:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Except when the washer emits smoke and threatens to explode. But that's another story which I may or may not get around to telling ..."<br /></span><br />So there, considering this ME finally getting around to telling the story of our incredible smoking washing machine.<br /><br />It was just an average Friday night. The husband and I had hauled ourselves up to Sacramento for the weekend. Lately I have taken to starting laundry on Friday nights because I am a LOOSER and like to get it out of the way so that we have more time for projects throughout the weekend with limited interruption.<br /><br />Since generally it's a bad idea to rotate clean laundry when you're up to your eyeballs in sweat and sawdust.<br /><br />I was about one laundry rotation and 1.5 glasses of wine into the evening when I finally joined The Husband for a movie.<br /><br />Apparently I am now tracking my time in quantities of alcohol consumed.<br /><br />Figures.<br /><br />About 15 minutes into the movie I started to smell something foul and generally un-good.<br /><br />Burning rubber is never something you want to smell IN the house.<br /><br />Upon turning to The Husband I see that he has registered the same concern and we simultaneously look up at the video projector from whence the movie cometh forth.<br /><br />And we both become buggedy-eyed and concerned that our new precious BABY was melting down.<br /><br />Fortunately it was not in fact the projector. Which left us with only a moment of relief before it was replaced with the OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL fear.<br /><br />Was the house burning down??<br /><br />And then it occurred to us both that it WAS possible that during the installation of the projector - and all the wiring that was required - that the attic was now on fire from some faulty wiring.<br /><br />Holy shit that was a freaky moment. The very idea that the insulation in our attic was engulfed in flames left me feeling simultaneously very helpless and VERY aware of the consequences. That and was my husband capable of bad wiring that would cause the house to fall down in a smoldering heap? I mean, the guy knows what he's doing! How could this happen??<br /><br />We grabbed a ladder and ran to the laundry room where the attic access is. The room was filled with smoke and smelled even worse than the bedroom.<br /><br />At least we were getting closer - but this did not bode well for the attic/fire/crap/we're in deep shit now theory.<br /><br />My Husband climbed up the ladder and very carefully pushed the access open.<br /><br />We've seen Backdraft people! Excellent movie - lots of hot firemen running around, I highly recommend it. But I was having NONE of that in MY house thankyouverymuch. Well, all the scary fire and backdrafts at least.<br /><br />And THANK GOD there was nothing but fresh air up there.<br /><br />And apparently we had located our burning-stinky-smell source.<br /><br />The laundry room - and in it, the currently running and highly suspect washing machine.<br /><br />We turned it off, kicked on the vent, and let the room clear for a few minutes. The Husband checked the wiring and hoses, and after confirming they were ok, he turned it on again.<br /><br />And the bad, evil, stinky smell returned.<br /><br />Thankfully it doesn't take a person of high intellect to deduce a conclusion from this scenario. Which was in our favor given our combined wine consumption for the evening. Apparently the spin cycle was having issues and Mr. Maytag man will have to pay us a visit.<br /><br />And with that we went to bed.<br /><br />And the next morning I lugged a load of soaking wet laundry to the local Laundromat and sulked that one of my favorite appliances was kaput.<br /><br />Mr. Maytag man came and replaced a bearing and a belt and chastised us for apparently over-loading the machine.<br /><br />Um, excuse me? Over-load an EXTRA LARGE washing machine? I don't think I've EVER had what would be even considered a FULL load let alone an EXTRA LARGE. I haven't even washed a comforter or a sleeping bag which this beast is promoted to enjoy and reply "thank you may I have another".<br /><br />Hello? This man was accusing me of ABUSING my washing machine? Any of you neat freak cleaning fanatics will know my pain.<br /><br />Whatever.<br /><br />So all is better now - I am happy to report that our washing machine is back to it's normal routine. And I no longer have to drudge off to the Laundromat and suffer from all the horrible inconveniences that I illustrated from my Thursday Blues post.<br /><br />Cuz it's just agony I'm telling you.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1131395954112372942005-11-07T10:23:00.000-08:002005-11-07T12:47:33.216-08:00In an attempt to make a habit of this...Look at me! I'm blogging again!<br /><br />With nothing particular to blog about. I mean, sure I've got stuff to blog about. Technically. My head is always swarming with ideas.<br /><br />But I've got an itty bitty amount of time. Which is NO time to try and write anything of real content.<br /><br />I'm drawing a complete blank of what I preoccupied my time with this weekend. I recall it being busy, involving a few too many beers (translation: calories), and changing a toilet seat.<br /><br />Oh yea. That's was charming.<br /><br />So our toilet seat cracked Friday night. Go figure. Just cracks and proceeded to pinch the ass of everyone who used it.<br /><br />Let me tell you - good times.<br /><br />So I drag the Husband on a study break to the local Home Depot Saturday afternoon and we proceeded to analyze and assess each and every toilet seat option.<br /><br />This is an important decision you know.<br /><br />Do you want the more expensive wood variety? The very same that CRACKED for no apparent reason.<br /><br />But the cheaper plastic variety looks...well...cheap.<br /><br />Do we just get the same one we had before? But again, it CRACKED. So, not too inclined to go that route.<br /><br />And then there are the squishy ones filled with air that are comfy and all...but they explode.<br /><br />I'll let <a href="http://justonel.blogspot.com/">Michele</a> tell THAT particular gem of a story.<br /><br />And then my husband homed in on the toilet seat of ALL toilet seats. It's like he, being a man, is naturally equipped with some sort of homing device. One that is designed to find the most COOLEST toilet seat out of all the choices.<br /><br />The SoftClose 2000.<br /><br />It is a toilet seat that, with a gentle nudge, will close SLOWLY ON IT'S OWN.<br /><br />No more slamming lids by accident!<br /><br />And for those of us lazy people who like to disguise our laziness with an apparent need for ultimate efficiency - it's great because it reduces the time spent closing a toilet lid from 1.3 seconds to a mere 0.7 seconds!<br /><br />That's a savings of 0.6 seconds!<br /><br />Seriously - that's a big deal!<br /><br />If you think about it, if you use the restroom approximately 3 times a day, that's 1.8 seconds you're saving a day. 12.6 seconds a week...655.2 seconds a year, which is like, 11 minutes!<br /><br />Over your entire life time you could save 15 hours closing the toilet!<br /><br />And that's just if you go 3 times a day - some people go twice that! 30 hours people! Something to seriously consider here.<br /><br />So this is how I spend my Saturday evenings - installing toilet seats. But, you know, it was like 4 beers into the evening and I thought it was a great plan.<br /><br />And I only dropped 2 of the bolts into the toilet bowl. But I wasn't so knackered that I didn't put on some gloves FIRST before reaching in and pulling them out. So that's good.<br /><br />You know you have a drinking problem if you reach into toilets bare-handed.<br /><br />And the seat was only slightly crooked and was easily fixed the next morning after all the beer had vacated my system.<br /><br />This is what Do-it-Yourselfer's do on their Saturday nights.<br /><br />Get drunk and fix toilets.<br /><br />Next week I'll amuse all of you by getting drunk and hanging sheet rock.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1131144699487100382005-11-04T14:13:00.000-08:002005-11-04T16:13:36.690-08:00Who'd have thunk.Look Tiff! I'm blogging - two days in a row! The lunacy!<br /><br />Today's topic of choice is Real Estate.<br /><br />Oh yes - I'm now going to talk about Real Estate.<br /><br />Never mind the light hearted anecdotes I have so lovingly compiled in the past. Oh no. Now I'm going to talk about the exciting wide-world of housing!<br /><br />Apparently my work (that doesn't necessarily exist) has distilled all humorous story-telling out of me. Damn you non-existent slave drivers!<br /><br />Ok, so, you can't live in the Bay Area and not be aware of the fact that there is a bubble that is going to BURST.<br /><br />Any day.<br /><br />Yep. Any day now.<br /><br />Yesiree.<br /><br />The news is all over it at all times. Not a day goes by that I haven't noticed a headline that either uses the word "bubble" or "housing market" or "interest rates". In fact, I could probably pop on to Yahoo News right now and dig up some recent article on the state of the real estate market...<br /><br />What the <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051104/bs_nm/food_coke_dc">HELL</a>? Coca Cola will be discontinuing their Vanilla Coke line?<br /><br />WHAT?!<br /><br />WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?<br /><br />...and that is SO not what I meant to blog about.<br /><br />Ok, so - the real estate market.<br /><br />So you've got your news, and then you've got your friends. So I have one friend who is this real estate buff and has been playing with it as a hobby for probably over 10 years now. She has some investment property, loves to watch the Bay Area market, and is more recently interested in trading in her cute little 3 bedroom tiny bungalow in Willow Glen for something a bit more roomy. All the while she gives me all kinds of advise and commentary on the market. And then there's another friend - the lovely <a href="http://boringonediary.blogspot.com/">Tiff </a>- who blogs on occasion about her Real Estate woes and tribulations.<br /><br />And then you've got me and my Husband.<br /><br />You know - the ones with the weird living situation. I'd recap but I'm lazy - so just go read <a href="http://bloggitywoggity.blogspot.com/2005/10/thursday-blues.html">this </a>entry if you really care. Brevity is not my strong point, but I ASSURE you there is an explanation SOMEWHERE in that particular blog entry.<br /><br />I think.<br /><br />Often times I wonder what will the next chapter for us be like in the whole living situation realm. As much as I LOVE the confusing lifestyle. And WEE FUN I love maintaining more than one household. I'm thinking a consolidation is definitely in order. And soon.<br /><br />And my poor husband. I'm a woman - what can I say? I like to dream...think about the possibilities. Talk about them OUT LOUD. I think I drive him nuts.<br /><br />So my latest dream is that we might actually stay in the Bay Area. Which in it's own way is INSANE. I mean, a little research and I quickly learned that we would not be able to find a free standing house for less than $500,000. And you know, as much as the whole idea of living in a place that looks just like an apartment is great and all, except if you OWN it. Hello? Owning an apartment? Owning a cookie-cutter mini-house where you share the walls with strangers and to add insult you are expected to pay HOA fees so they can paint YOUR HOUSE whatever color they want? "They" being the mini-government that you have just now volunteered to live under because lord knows that having a Federal and State Government isn't enough - no, gosh darn it, you need a Community Government to harass you too.<br /><br />And they call these fancy things "Condos" or "Townhouses". My ass.<br /><br />Ha.<br /><br />They all just look like apartments.<br /><br />But I'm a realistic woman. I know that if our jobs keep us here in the Bay Area (which they are looking more and more like they will) (if I had a job that is) (and if I did I wouldn't blog about it here) (you think I'm crazy?) we will have to find SOME place that we can call home. And throwing our money away to the rental-pit of despair is SO not an option in my book. Furthermore I refuse to allow either one of us to commute more than 45 minutes each - and even that is undesirable. We've done the weekend commute long enough - I'm tired, it gets old (after, like, day 2), and it's just not realistic.<br /><br />So we'll find ourselves a nice little 3 bedroom (grumble) "townhouse" with a one car garage and call it home. Because it will be ours - and we'll be happy we have anything at all.<br /><br />So you might imagine my surprise when I stumbled across quite the little gem of information.<br /><br />There is LAND available. Yes! LAND!<br /><br />Dirt - with nothing on it!<br /><br />HERE - in the Bay Area!<br /><br />And no - not, like, in Gilroy (and yes, there are some that consider that the "Bay Area").<br /><br />In Redwood City no less! Emerald Hills! In the East San Jose Hills!<br /><br />It's an ANOMALY!<br /><br />I haven't figured it out yet. But I have my suspicions. See below for those. Oh yes, I'll get into those. This blog is not NEARLY long enough yet to be one of mine.<br /><br />I mean - 1/4 of an acre in the Emerald Hills for $300k? Kidding right? Sick, cruel, mean, sadistic kind of ha-ha humor?<br /><br />But it exists!<br /><br />And there are no seminars involved - no crazy investment scams that I know of.<br /><br />Just land. Complete with electric to the property line, sewage and water, and an MLS listing number!<br /><br />MY GOD IT'S INSANE.<br /><br />Oh MAN - and for those of you who know us you'd know that we are SO ALL OVER building our own house from the ground up. With a little help from a few professionals of course.<br /><br />Seriously!<br /><br />We ARE crazy folk you know - we built and hung our bed from the ceiling as some of you may recall.<br /><br />So apparently there's hope.<br /><br />It may mean we'll be living out of a free standing garage and an RV on some dirt in the Emerald Hills. But hey! It'll be ours, the commute won't suck, and we will officially be property owners in the Bay Area.<br /><br />So my suspicions.<br /><br />I'm thinking that people are just not into the whole *buying a totally empty lot and building everything from the ground up themselves* kind of thing. I mean, it's a TON of work. You've got to get architects in there. If you care about the trees you should probably get an arborist-guy in to poke around. Then there's trenching for electricity, water, sewer, fiber optics down from the street. Getting permits, hiring contractors, getting manicures, pedicures, making your hair appointments.<br /><br />Part time job at the very least.<br /><br />And then you basically are waiting for about a year before it's livable.<br /><br />Maybe we are crazy.<br /><br />But I can use a hammer! I'm handy!<br /><br />Totally nuts.<br /><br />We are totally and completely nutty-nutty.<br /><br />And you guys all get to watch!<br /><br />Either that or I'll get bored with this idea in, like, a month and move on to some other hair brained idea.<br /><br />But you can keep watching!<br /><br />Fun!<br /><br />I have more thoughts on Real Estate and all it's glory but I'll save that for another day.<br /><br />And if you're familiar with my blog you're probably thinking that you'll check back in maybe 2 weeks and then MAYBE I'll have written again.<br /><br />But, I don't know. I mean - I wrote yesterday, and now today.<br /><br />My GOD - I may be making a habit here.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1131044813065645432005-11-03T09:56:00.000-08:002005-11-03T11:07:13.176-08:00Deep Thoughts? What's happened to me?!I was recently reading a <a href="http://boringonediary.blogspot.com/">blog</a> which has put me in a more serious mood for blogging (thanks a hell of a lot Tiff). I finally get around to blogging and I'm SO not feeling funny.<br /><br />This will me my very first, official, serious blog, officially. This ought to be interesting.<br /><br />Warning: for those of you looking for witty and smarmy banter - I'd like to think you'd get it here normally. But not today! Today I have my serious cap on!<br /><br />So. On to the subject of wants, wanting what we can't have, not getting what we want, wanting, wanting wanting.<br /><br />Of the many things I've learned in my short (albeit eventful) life, one thing that is pertinent to this topic (how convenient) is that when you want something either you need to go for it, or?<br /><br />...squash it for good and never look back because you will do nothing but tear yourself up and torture yourself with dissatisfaction for as long as you continue to go without that want being met.<br /><br />Now, I could go on talking figuratively - never really emphasizing any real point I'm getting at. But I hate doing that.<br /><br />It's just cause for confusion.<br /><br />So I will attempt to be more specific.<br /><br />The first thing that comes to my mind when it comes to "wants" is relationships. Afterall, it's where a vast majority of our wants in life stem from. And we've got all kinds of relationships - working ones, family ones, intimate ones, etc. But today, boys and girls, I will be focusing more seriously about relationships with men.<br /><br />Once upon a time I dated a guy for a good chunk of my adult life. For those in my audience who know the real 3-D mary, they will remember him fondly as the what-the-fuck-was-mary-thinking? guy.<br /><br />Or, the Artist.<br /><br />Retrospectively I agree with all the opinions - he was a "unique" boyfriend.<br /><br />What this has to do with my theme of the day is that I WANTED certain things out of life and he was not going to give those things to me. And that was ultimately the ruin of that relationship. It was slow, and took me forever to figure out. But if I had to put my finger on why we didn't make it and I don't go home to him every night today - it's because (cliche alert)...we wanted different things.<br /><br />I shall elaborate.<br /><br />I wanted kids. He didn't.<br /><br />I wanted a house. He could never ever ever ever in a million years guarantee he would have rent money next month. So to him, it was out of the question, so wanting wasn't an option.<br /><br />I wanted marriage. He wasn't really sure about that other than maybe it would gain him financial security (regular paycheck = me). But ultimately? Eh. not really. Marriage didn't mean all that much to him.<br /><br />At the time I was in my young 20's. Every time I wondered if I could really compromise my wants I shrugged it off because I was too young to worry about it. Which was true. I was having fun. The Artist was a sweet guy. Weird yes. Sweet, fun, handy in the kitchen, yes. So I had no real deadlines or goals to meet anytime soon.<br /><br />But it harped on me. Because I knew one day that I would be older and I would have to make a choice.<br /><br />Were those wants really important to me? And if I told myself they weren't, was I prepared to never look back? Because you do that and you find yourself in your 40's - wanting kids and unable to conceive, and having just ruined your relationship with the man you sacrificed your wants for because you subconsciously resented him for not wanting the same things as you. And you can't take it anymore so you leave him to find someone else who has the same wants in life.<br /><br />So why did you stay with him all along? So you could just widdle away 15 years of your life for fun? Wee fun!<br /><br />It doesn't go away.<br /><br />5 years I was with someone who wanted different things. 4 years of which I told myself I didn't have to make a decision. And after 4.5 years I woke up and realized that I WANTED these things. I would look back and hate myself for letting them slip away. You live one life, blah blah blah.<br /><br />And after 5 years I intentionally walked away from a relationship that, while fun and entertaining and secure, was going to kill me because I would compromise things I wanted just so I wouldn't have to break his heart. Because, after all, he had everything HE wanted.<br /><br />Fair?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />I got angry. Angry because I just sat down and took it. Angry because I wasn't honest with myself and just spent 5 years with a guy who I thought was selfish for getting everything HE wanted out of our relationship but gave me nothing I wanted. And jealous because I lived with a guy who had a great relationship and that's what I wanted.<br /><br />In hindsight I know that I had no reason to be angry at him. Afterall I never told him I wanted those things. I knew he didn't - because, GASP!, he was honest with me - so I didn't contradict him. I feared our relationship would fail because I wanted different things so I kept my mouth shut.<br /><br />Ironic huh?<br /><br />Our different wants in life still killed the relationship. It was just more of a long drawn out slow suffocation rather than a quick heart attack.<br /><br />Every day we are faced with wanting things. A new car. New job. New hair cut. A new body, new wardrobe, new housemate, a new cat (cuz god knows if you have to pick up cat vomit ONE more time...).<br /><br />But what are the "wants" that, after the day is up, we NEED them?<br /><br />What are the wants that have always been there, the ones with staying power?<br /><br />The ones that caused you to put on your best dress and play wedding when you were 6 years old? Or cradle your baby doll to sleep? Or build houses in your living room out of couch cushions, blankets, and pillows?<br /><br />For me?<br /><br />Kids, a house, a marriage.<br /><br />And I know that it's not 100% possible. Life happens and we're met with obstacles. And not everyone has all their core "wants" met.<br /><br />But when I was faced with giving them up but never really letting them go, or getting out of a relationship that wasn't giving me what I wanted and taking the chance of finding one that would?<br /><br />I'm young - those were odds I was willing to risk. And I was damned to not even fight for them.<br /><br />And I feel a bit of a hypocrite because there was a man who actually wanted to give me all the things I want in life waiting right around the corner. So it appears I had it easy. But I still had to make the choice to be honest with myself about my wants, to leave the artist, and break his heart. I still cryed on my Best Friends shoulder, fell off the face of the planet to my family, packed my cats, my things, and told him goodbye.<br /><br />The rest was just good timing.<br /><br />Thank you Tiff for inspiring me to write something a little more candid and thoughtful.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13908957.post-1130442903263396962005-10-27T12:42:00.000-07:002005-10-27T12:57:07.940-07:00Look! No more Birthday Cake!So I thought I'd relieve those of you who frequent my blog (ha!) and actually blog something. You know, so you don't have to keep seeing that stupid birthday cake and the fact that apparently, even though I am barely 26 years of age, I act like a 30 year old.<br /><br />I never liked those stupid quizzes anyway.<br /><br />Lame.<br /><br />That and Tiff asked me to blog.<br /><br />And it just SO happened that I have, like, 17 minutes before a meeting. More meetings. Meetings meetings meetings.<br /><br />Meetings where I get more things to do, but don't get the time to do them because...any guesses?<br /><br />MEETINGS!<br /><br />Yes! Meetings! Lovely meetings where my company attempts to dull my senses my freezing me to death in a conference room. Perhaps they think that by slowing my blood flow I will be like a docile little ladybug that has been partially frozen so that they may ship me to a home improvement store for the suckers that actually think that if you buy a large quantity of ladybugs and set them free in your yard they will stick around and thank you buy eating your aphids.<br /><br />Like they actually care?<br /><br />Like once their little bodies return to a normal temperature they don't see all the other neighbor's yards and decide to frolic over there?<br /><br />And by now I've completely lost site of just exactly how I have anything in common with these little garden predators. Or if I actually had a point.<br /><br />Whatever. I'm in a docile frame of mind.<br /><br />It's cold in here.<br /><br />I would like to point out here that all of the above is mentioned only under the assumption that I MIGHT be employed.<br /><br />Not saying I am. For sure. Nothing definitive here.<br /><br />Just speculation about over zealous air conditioning and little red bugs.maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14230529979224377202noreply@blogger.com3