Having 80% of my stuff in storage in my parents basement is a pain, but it is also kind of neat because every time I go there it's like shopping. For free. And it's all stuff I like, because at some juncture in time I bought it.
The drive cost:
~$50 in gas
~$10 in tolls
~$10 in junk food
~$40 for father's day gifts, card, etc.
~several ounces of patience
In return, I came home with:
~an entire milk crate full of cd's
~a box of all my summer shoes (9 pairs)
~a box of clothes
~my chaise lounge, which will go to my sister's house and the girls will grab for the pool
~a box of nonperishables that were in the den closet (how spaghetti sauce and soup wound up there, I have no idea.)
~a box of yarn
On the way home, I stopped to see T. and the Chloe dog for a visit. Then I stopped at Target for shampoo, and was delighted to see there is a new Alannis Morissette album out. Despite my moratorium (ha, ha) on nonessentials, it followed me home, mainly because she's always good for a soul-wrenching song or two. Or six, as I've counted thus far. Perfect.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Where I Solve My Own Problem
Oh. Turns out they put the battery in the scale backwards*. Huh. Well. The bad news is, I have gained a few pounds (7) but the good news is, it isn't 20. This I can deal with. I'm still not sure what to attribute it to, although on second thought there was an awful lot of ice cream with my niece G. this weekend. (I swear, she should have been my child: she hates getting up in the morning, she trashes her room, and she lives on ice cream. I am so proud.)
*it's one of those disk-shaped LCD batteries, in case you were wondering how a 9 volt got put in backwards and I didn't immediately notice.
*it's one of those disk-shaped LCD batteries, in case you were wondering how a 9 volt got put in backwards and I didn't immediately notice.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Where Tired and Stinky Meets Cranky and Complicated
This morning I was completely wiped out and barely functioning when I arrived at work, in large part due to the fact that the weather has been in the 90s the past two days and there is no air conditioning in my apartment (how did I miss that?).
Any normal person would just drink coffee and get on with life. The problem is I hate coffee, even coffee ice cream and THAT is saying something. I’m generally not a fan of any bitter tastes…I don’t even like dark chocolate all that much. However, in a real pinch I will drink hazelnut coffee with about a cup of sugar and a lot of milk. This concoction is what got me through the days in NYC when I had to take the commuter train to northern Westchester county, a 3 hour adventure that required leaving my apartment at 7 am, two subway trains, navigating both Times Square and Grand Central during rush hour, the commuter train itself, and a shuttle bus.
This morning I was dragging so badly when I got to work that I caved and bought hazelnut coffee. From the first sip I was back on that Metro North train, silently praying that some freak of the time-space continuum would occur at the White Plains stop that would make the day over before it began. Half asleep, I would imagine Jean-Luc Picard materializing in the aisle of the train and explaining that some complicated theoretical physics problem involving worm holes required us to speed up time by 8 hours. And I’d imagine us all yelling “Make it so!” as the train reversed itself. And, y’know, if that worm hole just happened to land us in “I Get What I Want World”, so much the better.
Obviously, that never happened. I saw a lot of strange things in NYC but a fictitious character from Star Trek materializing on a Metro-North train was not one of them. But what I find so fascinating (other than the depths of my imagination...) is how a taste/smell can fling me so far into a memory that I feel like I am reliving the experience, even an experience that was in large part imagined. Sometimes this is nice, like the smell of lilacs reminding me of being little (5 or 6) and going with my dad to this clearing in the woods out in Lovell where there were probably 50 lilac trees, and we cut a bunch for my mom. I remember riding back to Waterford in my dad's truck with a huge pile of lilacs on my lap. But sometimes it's not so pleasant, or perhaps maybe complicated is the better term...like when a whiff of some man on a train reminds you of someone you love, or that dish soap reminds you of your grandmother who died after a long painful illness. It almost feels like time travel; your body may stay put but the rest of you is completely somewhere else.
Speaking of somewhere else...I called the Maine Dep't of Revenue today because I hadn't received my refund. For those of you who read my old blog, you may remember that filing my taxes this year just about did me in, particularly when the ceiling leaked all over my tax stuff. Maine's forms were just RIDICULOUSLY complicated, and clearly aimed at the state taxing every last red cent they could. And, as it turns out, the state is taxing income I earned while a NY resident, such that instead of them owing me $380 I now owe them $140. I am hoping that this is all some misunderstanding, because I just don't see how this is possible. Grrrr.
And now, I am going to sit in front of a fan and try to think happy thoughts.
Any normal person would just drink coffee and get on with life. The problem is I hate coffee, even coffee ice cream and THAT is saying something. I’m generally not a fan of any bitter tastes…I don’t even like dark chocolate all that much. However, in a real pinch I will drink hazelnut coffee with about a cup of sugar and a lot of milk. This concoction is what got me through the days in NYC when I had to take the commuter train to northern Westchester county, a 3 hour adventure that required leaving my apartment at 7 am, two subway trains, navigating both Times Square and Grand Central during rush hour, the commuter train itself, and a shuttle bus.
This morning I was dragging so badly when I got to work that I caved and bought hazelnut coffee. From the first sip I was back on that Metro North train, silently praying that some freak of the time-space continuum would occur at the White Plains stop that would make the day over before it began. Half asleep, I would imagine Jean-Luc Picard materializing in the aisle of the train and explaining that some complicated theoretical physics problem involving worm holes required us to speed up time by 8 hours. And I’d imagine us all yelling “Make it so!” as the train reversed itself. And, y’know, if that worm hole just happened to land us in “I Get What I Want World”, so much the better.
Obviously, that never happened. I saw a lot of strange things in NYC but a fictitious character from Star Trek materializing on a Metro-North train was not one of them. But what I find so fascinating (other than the depths of my imagination...) is how a taste/smell can fling me so far into a memory that I feel like I am reliving the experience, even an experience that was in large part imagined. Sometimes this is nice, like the smell of lilacs reminding me of being little (5 or 6) and going with my dad to this clearing in the woods out in Lovell where there were probably 50 lilac trees, and we cut a bunch for my mom. I remember riding back to Waterford in my dad's truck with a huge pile of lilacs on my lap. But sometimes it's not so pleasant, or perhaps maybe complicated is the better term...like when a whiff of some man on a train reminds you of someone you love, or that dish soap reminds you of your grandmother who died after a long painful illness. It almost feels like time travel; your body may stay put but the rest of you is completely somewhere else.
Speaking of somewhere else...I called the Maine Dep't of Revenue today because I hadn't received my refund. For those of you who read my old blog, you may remember that filing my taxes this year just about did me in, particularly when the ceiling leaked all over my tax stuff. Maine's forms were just RIDICULOUSLY complicated, and clearly aimed at the state taxing every last red cent they could. And, as it turns out, the state is taxing income I earned while a NY resident, such that instead of them owing me $380 I now owe them $140. I am hoping that this is all some misunderstanding, because I just don't see how this is possible. Grrrr.
And now, I am going to sit in front of a fan and try to think happy thoughts.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Netflix/Knitflix
Mostly I don't know what I did before Netflix. Well, actually that's not true: I spent $20 a week on movie rentals from a place where heavily pierced teenage boys scowled at me all through my Woody Allen phase. (Augusta. What can I say.) Now, I am a total convert and happily pay my Visa bill because I see my Netflix subscription on it. I become giddy with anticipation whenever I see one of those red envelopes peeking back out of me. I rent three at a time, and I rotate them in such a way that I usually have two at home and one on the way. I am thinking of upping it to four, but this seems greedy even if I don't subscribe to cable.
Since joining Netflix, though, I have invented a new sport (I use the term loosely): Knitflix, which involves piling onto a couch or into bed with my knitting and whatever movie that turned up in my mailbox that day. Sometimes I'm happier about the knitting and the movie is just background noise, but sometimes I get so into a movie that I can't even knit. To the uninitiated, knitting actually requires math. Usually this is simple counting, and they actually make little tiny plastic round thingies to help you keep track of the counting but mine are all at the bottom of something (couch, knitting bag, purse). Sometimes the math can get a bit more complex, and demands that I focus on the knitting in a way that requires blocking out all dialog and gratuitous car crashes. If the movie is really good, I set the knitting aside unless the knitting is mindless (like plain sock knitting, or an afghan with simple repeats). (On a different note, I often stop to wonder if they had taught me algebra via knitting (and geometry via quilting) I would have been a much better math student. It all makes so much more sense now.)
Equally as puzzling as high school math, Netflix has this tool where it will make recommendations to you based on your ratings of other movies. For example, take "Because you liked the British version of "The Office Vol 1", you'll love this documentary "Boys of Baraka" about inner city boys from Maryland shipped off to boarding school in Kenya". Um, what??? Or, "Because you loved Annie Hall, you'll love this Bob Dylan compilation" (I hate Bob Dylan. I suspect it is the real reason T. and I are not married). Or the obvious: "Because you loved Star Trek The Next Generation Volume One, you'll enjoy Star Trek The Next Generation Volume Two". Really. That took a computer logarithm to figure out?
Once a month or so I scroll through the recommendations for me, and add a few willy-nilly to my queue. And I rarely update my queue. The result of this is that I go through phases where the little red envelopes in my mailbox contain things I have utterly no memory of ordering, and occasionally no real interest in watching. This is exactly what happened this week, when the movies "Junebug" and "Greenfingers" turned up. They have compelled me to create a new rating system, based on how long it takes me to put my knitting down.
I'm not entirely sure how I came to get "Junebug", particularly because it has one of the annoying O.C. kids in it (Ben McKenzie) AND Embeth Davidtz, who played Mark Darcy's pinched girlfriend Natasha in the first Bridget Jones movie. There are serious problems with this movie (an autistic artist who hates Jews, a prodigal son who disappears for half the movie, cinematography that aspires to artsy but comes off as just dumb) but it's worth watching because Amy Adams is just insanely great. I put my knitting down halfway through...so I'll give it 3 Knitting Needles since 2 seems weak and 4 seems too strong.
"Greenfingers", though...seriously, now one of my favorite movies ever. This was recommended because I highly rated "Harold and Maude", "Auntie Mame", and "Real Women Have Curves". I really don't see the connections, but "Greenfingers" was soooo good. It's the British version of "Shawshank Redemption", as far as I'm concerned. It isn't as deep and thought-provoking as Shawshank, but it's funnier and the scenery is much better, plus there's Clive Owen to look at. I never even picked up my knitting, so this gets 4 Knitting Needles all the way around.
Tonight, I have a date with "Monarch of the Glen Season 3" and my current socks. I just might need to get out more.
Since joining Netflix, though, I have invented a new sport (I use the term loosely): Knitflix, which involves piling onto a couch or into bed with my knitting and whatever movie that turned up in my mailbox that day. Sometimes I'm happier about the knitting and the movie is just background noise, but sometimes I get so into a movie that I can't even knit. To the uninitiated, knitting actually requires math. Usually this is simple counting, and they actually make little tiny plastic round thingies to help you keep track of the counting but mine are all at the bottom of something (couch, knitting bag, purse). Sometimes the math can get a bit more complex, and demands that I focus on the knitting in a way that requires blocking out all dialog and gratuitous car crashes. If the movie is really good, I set the knitting aside unless the knitting is mindless (like plain sock knitting, or an afghan with simple repeats). (On a different note, I often stop to wonder if they had taught me algebra via knitting (and geometry via quilting) I would have been a much better math student. It all makes so much more sense now.)
Equally as puzzling as high school math, Netflix has this tool where it will make recommendations to you based on your ratings of other movies. For example, take "Because you liked the British version of "The Office Vol 1", you'll love this documentary "Boys of Baraka" about inner city boys from Maryland shipped off to boarding school in Kenya". Um, what??? Or, "Because you loved Annie Hall, you'll love this Bob Dylan compilation" (I hate Bob Dylan. I suspect it is the real reason T. and I are not married). Or the obvious: "Because you loved Star Trek The Next Generation Volume One, you'll enjoy Star Trek The Next Generation Volume Two". Really. That took a computer logarithm to figure out?
Once a month or so I scroll through the recommendations for me, and add a few willy-nilly to my queue. And I rarely update my queue. The result of this is that I go through phases where the little red envelopes in my mailbox contain things I have utterly no memory of ordering, and occasionally no real interest in watching. This is exactly what happened this week, when the movies "Junebug" and "Greenfingers" turned up. They have compelled me to create a new rating system, based on how long it takes me to put my knitting down.
I'm not entirely sure how I came to get "Junebug", particularly because it has one of the annoying O.C. kids in it (Ben McKenzie) AND Embeth Davidtz, who played Mark Darcy's pinched girlfriend Natasha in the first Bridget Jones movie. There are serious problems with this movie (an autistic artist who hates Jews, a prodigal son who disappears for half the movie, cinematography that aspires to artsy but comes off as just dumb) but it's worth watching because Amy Adams is just insanely great. I put my knitting down halfway through...so I'll give it 3 Knitting Needles since 2 seems weak and 4 seems too strong.
"Greenfingers", though...seriously, now one of my favorite movies ever. This was recommended because I highly rated "Harold and Maude", "Auntie Mame", and "Real Women Have Curves". I really don't see the connections, but "Greenfingers" was soooo good. It's the British version of "Shawshank Redemption", as far as I'm concerned. It isn't as deep and thought-provoking as Shawshank, but it's funnier and the scenery is much better, plus there's Clive Owen to look at. I never even picked up my knitting, so this gets 4 Knitting Needles all the way around.
Tonight, I have a date with "Monarch of the Glen Season 3" and my current socks. I just might need to get out more.
Huh.
I guess they finally caught on about the senior cruise...and boy does this bring back memories!!!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Random Thursday
1)Paul Newman makes a damned good cookie, is all I'm sayin'.
2)The new Sedaris book is great. I had reservations since I found Augusten Burrough's "Wolf at the Table" a huge disappointment (his other stuff is fantastic, though), but Sedaris didn't let me down. A couple of pieces I had read before, mostly in The New Yorker, but I didn't care; it was still funny the second time around.
3)Work is exhausting me this week. I had a good run going - probably stored up energy from my vacation - but I totally hit a wall this morning. I was so tired when I got off the train that I had a momentary panic attack because I could not remember where I had left my car. Wandering around a football-field sized parking lot in cold rainy drizzle is a FANTASTIC way to cap off the day, let me tell you.
4)Speaking of the train, I've discovered that nobody likes to sit next to someone who cranks their ipod up so loud that you can hear the music. I will probably go deaf before I turn 40, but at least I'll have a seat all to myself.
2)The new Sedaris book is great. I had reservations since I found Augusten Burrough's "Wolf at the Table" a huge disappointment (his other stuff is fantastic, though), but Sedaris didn't let me down. A couple of pieces I had read before, mostly in The New Yorker, but I didn't care; it was still funny the second time around.
3)Work is exhausting me this week. I had a good run going - probably stored up energy from my vacation - but I totally hit a wall this morning. I was so tired when I got off the train that I had a momentary panic attack because I could not remember where I had left my car. Wandering around a football-field sized parking lot in cold rainy drizzle is a FANTASTIC way to cap off the day, let me tell you.
4)Speaking of the train, I've discovered that nobody likes to sit next to someone who cranks their ipod up so loud that you can hear the music. I will probably go deaf before I turn 40, but at least I'll have a seat all to myself.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
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