Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The culprit is Mrs. Ruffles, a yellow tabby sort of cat that belongs to a lady upstairs, but is often left outside. I've learned to watch for her when I leave the door open, but she usually darts in and right back out.
My next door neighbor said she was going crazy in here and they called the maintenance people to come open the door. You'd think someone could of left a note.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The first time we ran into each other, we probably all reminisced about the great times we had and all we were planning for the future. The second time, we probably reminisced about the great times we had and talked about children and careers and things. Last night, not one story was remembered by all parties involved, some couldn't even recall the events after we told them, and we all compared notes on which blood pressure, cholesterol, and mood drugs we were on!
Growing old sucks!
She had set down several of the plastic ramekins on a trash can. I'll grant you, it's a nice looking trash can. Faux black leather. Sort of an overall rectangle shape with a hole in the top for the trash. You might see a smaller version in an swanky office. But it's still clearly got a big ol' hole in the top of it for trash. And she set all her ramekins down on it.
Whose picking up trash? Me. For hours. Picking up napkins, ramekins, beer bottles, and throwing them where? In the trash container.
She's at least four feet away if not more. It's not like she was standing by it. I had seen her out of the corner of my eye set the stuff on the trash and for a second thought, "WHYNOTJUSTDUMPITINLADY?" and then I just kept on, gathered up a handful of trash, walked to the container and WHOOSH! Shoved it all in.
She came running to me INDIGNANT! "THAT WAS MINE!" she said. (You got to wonder at that moment which is more unusual - a midget version of a 70 year old Joan Collins look alike in a red white and blue sweater set - or that she gathered up enough plastic containers to make supper and set them. . . . ON THE TRASH.) I just said, "I"m sorry. I thought it was trash" and she walked off, woefully upset with it clearly written on her face. I saw her and her husband a few minutes later with a new collection of free samples, on the corner of a cloth-and-skirted table we were using for a promotion later.
Humanity. It's fun to watch, but sometimes it just makes you shake your head.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
It had been hours and hours that I picked up trash and glass. I felt kind of like a doctor with my latex gloves on and I tried to say "Good luck!" when I could remember it. There was just so much trash, so many little plastic ramekins. So many napkins and beer bottles. Then I finally found the service bar and started taking them glasses. For hours and hours, I piled up glass after glass after glass. I found myself a section and kidded myself that if anyone said anything to me I would just say "That aint my section." I made a little T in my head and I worked the T. First the long part, then alternately the two top sides. First make a trash run. Then a glass run. I even developed a glass process. I would pull glasses to one location, sort of hide them behind a trash receptacle. Then when I was ready, I would take a lot of them to the service bar.
After all that, I passed a time clock. I'd been doing it for one hour.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
A long, long time ago, a business friend took me and Marilyn (if only I knew how to link back) into a store on the boardwalk in Atlantic City and said, "Pick something out." Marilyn picked out a little gold net top and I picked out a pretty tie. It didn't occur to me that the '100' on the back of the tie could possibly be THE PRICE! FOR A TIE! We were in a Versace store and the owner is/was a friend of hers.
Back at work, a co worker recognized it and said, "Versace?" So I knew immediately that I LOVED VERSACE! I was also 25 years old, probably making $25K a year and living at home in Arkansas. Really, what did I know about Versace? I knew I wanted at least one more. Why? Because after she gave me another one for whatever reason, I was able to say. . . and yes, I waited anxiously for the compliment to come . . . "Nice tie" Thank you (very off-handed) it's just one of my Versace's.
Yea that should have been a hint I was headed for gay-dom. After I got one more or so, I had ruined (horrors!) one of them at a New Year's Eve party I was real upset, especially after my Dad announced it was as good as a wash cloth now and my brother laughed. (Family. Gotta love 'em.) Anyway, it's been years since I worked at that place and I haven't worn ties to work day-to-day in years. But today I need one and I'm digging through the closet and would you believe that my youthful desire got me up to 5. Count 'em, 5 Gianni Versace ties. Now hanging useless in the closet.
But they sure are pretty.
I've got to remember the coat and tie tonight, I can do business casual for garbage duty tomorrow.
I hear thunder rolling, which wasn't in the forecast, but it looks like rain may be moving in. Good thing I'm not headed back from somewhere I never should have been.
MyFella is such a doll. He had to go to an association meeting yesterday here in town, so he made a night of it and offered to just get up early this morning and drive back.
He said we just had to find a place to watch A.I., and I am cable-less. So I called my friends J&Bubbles, who decided that the season was so lame that we would go out instead. Too funny. So I compromised and strongly suggested we just go to Piccadilly's around the corner. It's like 3 minutes from their house, neither MyFella nor I had ever been there and surely their cafeteria style menu would have something for everybody. Then we could go to their house to watch the last of A.I.
Well, let me tell you - Piccdilly's is THE BEST RESTAURANT EVER! There is SO MUCH from which to choose. Good for you food (relatively), traditional Southern, fun, yucky, you name it. Square jell-o in bowls! Fried fish cods, baked fish, fried chicken, chopped beef (hamburger pattys), carrot soufle (tastes a bit like sweet potato pie), fried okra, mac & cheese, just all kinds of vegetables and like 2 kinds of cornbreads, rolls, pies, cakes, etc. It's a buy-it-by-the-serving smorgasborg of Southern cuisine comfort consumption! I LOVE IT! I think I got a little giddy and announced it as THE BEST RESTAURANT EVER!
MyFella was sure the right David would win, and his 40 votes were part of the 12 million. Then we watched the season finale of Boston Legal. And came home to a 78 degree apartment and popped the window open. (Thankfully they just installed the window screen this week, after my face to face with Peter). And this morning I fixed him a cup of coffee and sent him on his way as I went to get J&Bubbles for an airport ride.
Oh, and MyFella gave me a great business lead that I called my Hot Boss about (you know, brunette, long legs, she's gorgeous). Hot Boss announced that she likes MyFella more than me!
It was a very good Wednesday.
Yeah, the minute he stood up, I started planning our Summer wedding. Broad shoulders and a build that would have done him well in high school football, which couldn't have been more than 7 years ago. Brown hair and a nice face. Deep voice that belies his age. I think the Summer will be too warm for an outdoor ceremony, but we might have it someplace such as the Botanic Gardens, where the green can be the backdrop. He is certainly not hard on the eyes.
But back to business - Magical Mystical Peter called the air guy, hung up and told me the problem is in a wire that runs from the thermostat to the unit. The wire tells the unit to kick in, while another wire apparently tells it to blow. The wires run underneath the apartment, as does the ductwork. The guy said he'd get it fixed that afternoon. Which didn't happen.
On Monday of this week, I got my window screen for the bedroom, which is a good thing since I had to sleep with the window open last night. (Let me point out, that midtown is not the place to sleep with a bedroom window open.) I've been coming home to an apartment in the high 70's like 76, 77, 78 and even 80. I've kept Peter abreast of the changing temperature via emails. And I've mailed two letters to him - advice from my attorney friend who has another plan, should this keep up much longer. But I'm hopeful, after coming home last night and finding the fuse box left open, that the end is in sight.
I hope so. I don't want any pesky bad feelings about this air conditioner hanging between Peter and I during the ceremony. But if I have to make my point by bringing him to this un-airconditioned apartment for the honeymoon, so be it!
Foo Foo girl was just about to call me, as I was calling her. The afternoon with Pretty Girl had ended and I just couldn't give up the sunshine. So a half hour later I found myself back at the old patio. Foo Foo has been pulling the potted plants out, spraying off the paving stones, generally trying to get it all the way she likes it for the summer. Someone gave her a new grill late last season, and she still had some hanging flowers to do. Plus some neighbors practically killed one of her Mother In Law Tongues, but it's coming along nicely. The afternoon continued to be perfect. The neighbor that is young, blue collar, and loves to play with fire, showed up. He's a good fellow and I really enjoy him.
Then one of the new torches caught fire and burned all to smithereens. Lucky for my blog, I was there to catch it all! Well, the pic doesn't really do it justice. Out of frame there's a torch just burning all up.
P.S. I have on here a pic of my favorite courtyard tree. It makes HUGE leaves and these big pretty blooms, and then it makes this string bean looking thing. I have no idea what it is.
My friend, we'll call her Pretty Girl, texted me the other night to meet her out, and I was with Noodle, Skeeter and them. So I texted back an option, how about meeting me on the patio with the dreads girl? So come Sunday, it's a beautiful day and a great patio. She brings her son and the young songstress is on her game. I've noticed there doesn't seem to be a lot of new stuff. But it's all pretty, just the same. And a perfect day for it. I figured out that Mandolin Guy must be her sweety, 'cause they kissed. And now she's got a guy playing some bongo's with her. So there is a bit more depth to it all.
Pretty Girl's 5 year old boy came with her. He asked his mom, "Is this Madonna or someone else?"
The afternoon seemed to go by faster than usual. They packed up for a paying gig at a graduation party. But before she left, she sat down at our table, next to the five year old, and sang him a song. It was a beautiful few minutes, and I tried to relax into the moment, let everything else slip away and just listen to her.
Well, and take a pic for my blog!
It's 7:30a.m. and I'm driving friends to the airport. Next to me a sort of once gold colored 1986 Chevy Celebrity. In it is a dark haired guy, probably mid 20's. He's wearing ipod type ear buds. And in his left hand is a dumbbell weight. He's curling it. A few seconds later, he switches to his right hand and he's doing repetitions of lifting it up. Then he does some more reps on his left hand. All the while, driving to work or where ever in his 1986 Chevy Celebrity. It was so hot in such an odd way.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Have a good day!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Now really. Bo? Come on. I haven't seen Bo that I can recall in well over 30 years. For a period of maybe 5 years or so, we grew up on the same cul-de-sac street. Then he moved. One of his cousins is/was my friend that I had lunch with in Texas a few months ago (I have to figure out how to link back to old posts). They don't have any family left in our hometown. There's no reason for any of them to be in the area. Still, I took a serious second look at him because, well, he just looked like Bo. A bald Bo, but Bo. Worse, he looked kind of hot with his baldness and a pretty shirt, long sleeved, all not tucked in as is the style today. Not real hot. But kind of hot. Hot enough for a "I'd do ya at the gay bar after midnight" kind of thing.
What's worse? It was Bo. After staring him down (like a FREAK, since we're both walking to the bathroom!) and not getting any notice back, I decided it was not him. Then I noticed, "He has that same James T. Kirk-kind of swagger that Bo had." hhhmmm. So what are the odds you'd look like Bo and walk like Bo, 30 years later?
So later I swung by the poker room and asked the manager if she knew that guy's name? Bo. Where's he from? Ohmygoshfrom states and states away. Many states. He lives practically in Canada as far as I'm concerned.
I mean, I know I only grew up 80 miles from here and 40 miles from work, but there's no reason for him to be there. 30 years later. All his kith and kin are long gone. And I knew it. 'cause we grew up in a town just like that.
So anyway, I go call my childhood friend who works in another office there and said, "If you'll get up and leave your office and come to mine, it'll be worth it." She does. I walk her to the poker room and play a "Do you see what I see game?" The poker room manager walks up and says, "I'll go tell him" and I said, "Wait. She doesn't know what she's looking for." And she's mouthing all "I can't see nothing or anybody" when he turns his head and she's like "Oh my gawd it's Bo."
Yeah, it's Bo.
So the manager goes to tell him someone wants to see him and he walks up and there's 'that moment' when he realizes it's me. 30 years later, it's me. And I said "it's her." And we had a very nice sort of "oh my gosh it's you" conversation. And he was like, "How did you know I was here?" and I was like, "We went and pee'd together" and he was "I SAW YOU STARING AT ME!" Yeah, because I am a master of covert surveillance.
And I'm right, he has no family left in our hometown. But he and his wife had driven through a few months ago and thought they liked the area, they both are in the casino business, and thought they could move and transfer. So they drove back in for a few days to check out homes and make sure they like it. We exchanged numbers and I told him if he applied at our place to put our names down because I could use the referral bonus.
I probably go pee dozen times a day, walk right past the poker room and don't pay anyone a bit of attention.
I can remember a dream that involved me living at the old apartment, but also involved a sort of trailer park atmosphere and a guy I used to 'play' with sometimes. Oh, he was beautiful and the stereotype of a 'bad boy.' Even in the dream tonight he was bad ~ hosting big drunk parties and such. But looking good with his dark skin and tattoo's. Wonder from where that came?
On a different note, I got tired of feeling like I was getting the run around from the apartment management company. So I walked in there this morning, went straight to the manager's office and said, "I'm looking for Peter." Knowing good and well that I was in Peter's office and the guy had a 99% chance of being Peter. I feel much better for tackling my issues head on.
Work was good. I fessed up to the Pretty Boss over a mistake I made, and then told her two fabulous stories ~ one about some employee drama and how I'm going to do my best to fix it using her in a positive way, and one about a meeting she missed and how I totally was wigging out in my head and stayed calm on the outside but "this is NOT what I understood 3 weeks ago." Cra-zy.
I had so wanted to sleep in. I hope sleep comes back to me.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I don't want to tear anyone down. They have all done such incredible things.
But I know for who I will be voting, regardless of how they perform. And judging from the way people have gone off the show this season, that's pretty much what a lot of people do.
"My mom doesn't like Ross," Sue said.
Sue is MyFella's beloved neice. She's in her mid 20's, and pretty in a tomboy sort of way. Ross is her husband. Sue, what little I know of her, visibly loves her husband and adores her uncles MyFella and Jamie. Sue seems to spend time with Jamie and notice little things, like when he's having trouble eating or something.
Ross is a hard worker (I think it's some sort of skilled job – like an electrician or a welder in a plant) and they say he makes good money. He has provided well for his wife, and they live in a nice house with a spot of land and a few horses. She has worked at jobs she enjoys and he has supported her decision to return to school to be a radiologist. He seems like a stand up guy.
"My mother doesn't like him and that's just wrong to say. He's my husband" she said. "even if she doesn't, she shouldn't be saying it."
MyFella agrees, but he's got no particular love for her mother, a sister of his. He's been pretty clear in his opinion that she's never been much of a mother or a support to her two daughters. The have plenty of stories about how her mother offered to put her on the car insurance then calls her every month wanting $100. She turned off her daughter's cell phone, so another sister to MyFella bought the niece a cell phone and told her not to worry about it, just go to college and let them worry about the phone.
Which are all thoughts running through my head as MyFella was telling me this last night on the phone.
She continued, "That would be like me telling you that I don't like Mike. You know, if you and Mike were together. I may or may not, but it's none of my business if he makes you happy. I just wouldn't say it. My mom just shouldn't say it about my husband."
MyFella said, "I think it was her way of telling me something." I replied into the phone, "I can't argue with you there."
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Civic Organization: Prayer at meeting today - 1 minute and 40 seconds. I've been timing it every week. You try and pray out loud for a minute and 40 seconds. That's a long time. His average seems to be one minute and 45 seconds. He's hit two minutes before. I tried a few times to count all the things he thanked for, but that got too long without using note paper.
Better Life Plan: Oy vey! But I have eaten something wretched the last two weeks and not walked worth a durn. You know, that first two weeks after the nurse practicioner gave me a stern lecture, I was just plain skert. (That's scared, in country slang). But now I'm not so good anymore. I was even good at work because I ate so much lunch in the employee dining room. I could have a grilled chicken breast and if there was a green vegetable, choose it. But I got so sick and tired of it. Ugh. Plus every visit to MyFella we just eat out too much. I haven't done good at walking lately either. I probably should just call and schedule a heart attack. It'll be easier that way.
MyFella: Graduated Saturday with an Associates in I.T. I'm very proud of him, returning to school at the age of 41. It took me a while to figure out that he went crazy near the end of every semester. This was no different. I even called him on it. 'There you go acting all crazy like you do at the end of every semester.' And then he makes very emotional decisions when it comes to his family. I guess we all do, which is why they are family. But I finally told him 'Just shut up. I am coming up in time to take you to lunch.' I was tired of hearing all about what they wanted for supper versus what he wanted. I solved it by taking him to his place for lunch. And then they STILL acted up come supper time. I just don't understand why they all had to make it 'about them' when it really should have been 'about him'. If you can't give him one darned afternoon, then screw you. I see how he worries and frets over them all. i've told him before to quit it. But we all act a certain way for family. I am no different, just a pot calling a kettle black.
Sweetest Thing: MyFella got good and tired of listening to me whine because I don't have a good patio at this apartment. Know what he did? Went out back of his home and laid out 4 planks in a square, leveled off the ground with dirt, hauled his existing paving stones over there and laid them out in a pattern, went and bought new paving stones to fill in the blank spots. Yes, MyFella made me a patio. I meant and meant to take a picture of it this weekend. We had our first "sit out." We weren't prepared. No glass of fresh ice tea or a beer, and we'll wait to catch an end of summer sale on a lawn set. But it's a patio. And he made it for me.
A.I.: I don't want to post about A.I. I really don't. But I have to say this season has grown boorish for me. Aside from that nightmare of Jason Castro last night, there was really nothing interesting. If you could vote OFF, I would of put some serious texting out there this season. If I didn't have supper with my friends every Tuesday, I'd have given up on this season long ago. You can tell by the way the contestants were pinged off that it's not really a talent competition. People vote for whatever reason, but leaving Jason Castro on this long has nothing to do with talent. That's just my opinion, but it is based on a 'top 4' finalist who can't remember the words to his song. Give me a good excuse for that one? There's not.
Amish: I went with MyFella to have shoes put on two of his horses by an Amish guy.* We got there at 9a.m. and by person count, we were fourth in line. But by horse count, we were like 15 & 16. Made for a long day. I took a PTO to give MyFella a 3 day weekend together, and so I could go experience this Amish thing. If we had lucked out better, it would not have been an all day thing. Or if we had planned better, we would of taken some lunch, a cooler with some drinks, etc. But here's the positive that I gained from the experience:
*Watching a horse get shod by a professional is interesting. average 20 minutes a horse and with sure-hands, there's a neat technique to it.
*Even an Amish man's shop will have the same stupid photo-copied signs as any Redneck shop in town or your work-neighbor's-cubical. Examples: If you are blah blah blah, there will be a $20 charge just for putting up with you. Or the crowd favorite: Answers. Dumb answers: $10, Thoughtful answers: $20, Stupid Looks: Always Free. Or the 'If it's open, close it. If it's blah, blah, blah.' At some point, with all the guys around, the conversation turned to sex. Surprised me, but even the Amish guy talked about it. I might as well have been at my buddy Johnny's service station than in an Amish community
*Amish don't switch to daylight savings time. So in conversation with each other, with 'English' around, they'll say 'Amish time?' for clarification.
*All their clothes really do look the same. I looked for differences, but honestly didn't see enough examples to discern the differences. But if you think about it, between Old Navy, Gap, Target, etc., a lot of our clothes look the same too.
*The ladies can bake some good stuff. Bread, jelly, butter, candy. The ladies had no trouble speaking to you, but concluded their business and were done. The guys didn't mind chatting like normal.
*Children play. And they play imitating their parents. One boy was mowing the lawn and we weren't sure he was doing any good at cutting the grass. We asked about it and the guy said, 'Really he's just playing. School's out.'
Which leads me to believe, over all that they are 'just like us, only different.' I had that same thought when I attended a very Conservative and Kosher Passover dinner several years ago. Really, it was 'just like Thanksgiving dinner, but different.' And it seems it's that way with the Amish too. They are 'just like us, but different.'
I decided the next time MyFella goes, I don't really have to go. If I can get off, great. If not, I'll just give him $15 and a grocery list.
*If I understand it right, a guy who professionally puts horseshoes on a horse is a ferrier. You shoe a horse. But afterwards, he has been shod.