You're Doing It Wrong

Art Show
Bob and I both got home late on Thursday night.

I did my second Target run (success!) and the food shopping and he went to Cocopelli’s and hung the photos and took care of a bunch of last minute details for the show.

We were both tired and catching each other up on our day when we heard a loud THUNK from the garage.

“Now what?” we both said.

The garage door spring gave out. Not a big deal but just one more thing to deal with after a long week.

Bob got them on the phone first thing Friday morning and they said they could be there between 10-Noon and they did and they fixed us right up and it wasn’t too much money so whew, and we can get in and out of our garage with ease again.

We went over the the coffee shop at 4pm and set up all our stuff. Priscilla had organized an extensive collection of snacks and we had beer and wine and lemonade. Bob had the brilliant idea to hire a student to help us out with the food and drinks so we had an extra set of hands for setting up and cleaning up and making sure there were cups and napkins and ice. She was fabulous.

Our event was nicely attended. Not overwhelming. A nice mix of family and friends and people we haven’t seen in a long time. Some entity in town organizes groups for the Art Walk and I guess they make a circle of a several galleries downtown that do a show on first Friday. But only about three groups made it to where we were because it was a little off the main path and the weather was cold and miserable. But still, nice turnout and very positive response.

After we got home we were cleaning out the cooler and I decided to put the leftover beer out in the shop since the fridge was sort of full. What I didn’t realize was that the convenient cardboard carrying case had been sitting in the wet cooler all evening and pop pop pop — three bottles hit the concrete as I repeated a bad word variation over and over. Now it smells like a fraternity house right outside the door between the kitchen and the garage.

Sorry I don’t have more photos tiredd1. I didn’t participate in the Art Walk part, only the show we did and I didn’t take many pictures because I have a cheap crappy camera with a flash that withers plants and makes small children whimper with fear.

Plogic
If we get a rebate we’re going to use it to pay our taxes.

You’re All Invited
Tomorrow is First Friday in downtown Vancouver, WA. I did not even know this event existed. I’m lame. My husband and his mother have put together a show of my late father-in-law’s photographs. Bob posted his Dad’s bio here.

We’ll be at Cocopelli’s Coffee & Tea at the Academy from 5-8pm. E 11th and C Street. I’ll be the one standing by the wine.

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Yesterday I did this massive mailing for work. The mailing list was generated by a government agency. Here’s a typical entry:

Youngman P. Kingpin, President & CEO
Overlord of Operational Services
NW Division, Ginormous Company International
Centre Square Triangle Building
10293 Northwest Grasshopper Ladybug Square South
Tenth Floor, Suite 1050 B
Mailstop 110-F-059323
Pumpkin Plains, Oregon 12345-6789

I’m barely exaggerating. Seriously, like there is no way that boring- but-important document (220 of them, to be exact) could be delivered without all that information.

It reminds me of when we were at our old office, a condominium, which I highly recommend as a workplace. When I gave our address out I’d always say, # 10. And the person would say, “Is that a suite or what?”

“No, it’s a hole in the ground.”

Do people really think the mailman is walking around with a piece of mail that says #10 going, “Oh dear, now what? Am I looking for a suite? A floor? A unit? A chamber?”

Our mail was delivered into bank of boxes in the lobby. Our box said: 10.

Keeping the Quiet
One of the main strategies used to make our marriage work is that we have two of everything. Two TVs, VCR/DVD players, two iPods, two computers, two bank accounts. Bob has his own room in the basement which includes a bathroom and shower and down there he can leave his clothes on the floor, dirty dishes on his desk, balled up wet towels on the bed. He can leave the TV, stereo and all the lights on and accumulate piles and piles and piles of crap. I don’t care because I don’t have to look at it. (We have a room together upstairs, in case you’re wondering.)

One of Bob’s favorite things to do is work on the computer, watch TV, listen to music, read a book and take a nap: all at the same time. He especially likes to have music on.

I mostly like music only when I’m driving. Sometimes if I’m doing an involved kitchen project or filing at the office. But mostly I like quiet.

Thus, over the years I have purchased many sets of headphones for Bob. Nice ones with super long cords so he can putter around his piles of crap with ease.

I have a friend at work who records bands in his house so I asked him for advice when I bought the last set and he took me to the music shop and he and the guy talked about the special features and comfort and whatever and let me try different pairs on. I bought a really nice fancy pair with an extra long cord.

Bob calls them his wife canceling headphones.

School Bus Days
It snowed at little last night, depending on where you live. I turned on the TV to try to get an idea of what the commute would be like and should I drive or take the bus and which bus should I take. Bob didn’t have to go to school until 10am.

The TV is almost completely worthless because they find the 3 iciest intersections in a 60 mile radius and set up cameras and tell you over and over how awful it is out there.

The things I look for are whether the newspaper arrived on time, whether the driveway is icy and whether traffic is moving on the cross street I can see from my front yard. This morning: Yes, No, Yes.

I hopped in the car, left extra early and found a few snowy patches before I hit the main street which was completely fine. Except there was a freaking bridge lift and it took 25 minutes to get on the freeway. Also note: once I left my neighborhood I did not seen another flake of snow on the ground.

Lorelei wrote something about the school bus last week which made me remember riding the bus in 7-8 grades. My Mom was the librarian at my school and I’m pretty sure I rode to school with her when I was in 6th grade. Once I turned into a pain-in-the-ass 13 year old with equally pain-in-the-ass girlfriends, I was too cool to go to school with my Mom.

Our bus was over-crowded and we were miserable brats. We went through a series of bus drivers before it stuck with a guy who looked like he’d just gotten out of prison, smudgy tattoos and all. His name was Terrence and he also had an earring which was not a common look for men in the 70’s. There were two places for pickup in the morning, one was 5 houses down from mine at the Foster’s and one was at the front of the housing development. Picture tract homes in southern California.

You saved your place in line at the bus stop by putting your books down starting at the curb and leading back into the Foster’s driveway. You could run down early and put your book there to save your place and then go home and get ready. It’s hard to believe middle schoolers honored this system. As soon as my alarm went off I ran down with my book. But no matter how early I got there, this girl named Jeanette’s book was already there first. Always. She must have put her book there before she went to bed.

The absurd thing is that the bus picked up our stop first. There was no reason to be all worked up about getting on first. The bummer was for the second stop because by then all the seats were full and you had to go to 3 in a seat and no one wanted to sit 3 in a seat so there was all this awkwardness, especially for the kids nobody liked because they had to sit down. It’s just like on public transportation where people put their coat and pack next to them so no one can sit next to them. You’d have to ask them to move over and on the school bus they’d look the other way and ignore you.

Then Terrence would get involved and yell at the kid to sit down and yell at the kids who wouldn’t move over. Once the bus got rolling there was lots of yelling and carrying on. One time we were so bratty that Terrence drove us all the way back to school and had the principal come out and yell at us.

When I got to high school there was no bus and I went to school with the Tudman’s until I was old enough to drive myself.

I still don’t completely get the customs and ways for the bus.

I take a commuter bus so we all get on at the same stop. There are about 6 stops through downtown Portland for deboarding and/or boarding and then the bus goes back to Vancouver and we all exit at the same place where we started. (You know, after we work all day.)

The bus is rarely crowded. Yesterday was the first time I’ve ever seen someone stand and I think he wanted to because there were a few open seats.

I used to take a different express bus that left from the old downtown transit center. There was this lady who always went to the front of the line when we started boarding. I saw someone drop her off and she walked straight to the front of the line to board. Even though there were tons of places to sit, this irritated me and I gave her the stink eye.

What I think is funny is sometimes I’ll arrive at the stop and a few other people will already be waiting. Sometimes when the bus arrives, they wait until I board. Or one or two will stand back and a couple will go ahead and board. Or someone else who came after me will go ahead and board first. It’s like there’s a weird hierarchy of boarding that everyone knows about but me.

For the trip home I wait at the corner which is a stop for at least a half dozen different buslines. When I see my bus pulling up, usually no one is stepping forward. So then I step forward and I’ll notice a whole bunch of people who have been waiting longer than I have, lining up behind me.

Maybe I’m the pushy one. Maybe they’re all standing behind me, nudging each other and rolling their eyes and whispering, “There’s the ‘me first’ lady shoving to the front with her giant neon-green bag and paperback with a knight and unicorn on the cover.”

Two Things I Don’t Like About Winter:

1. Darkness. When I leave the house, it’s dark. When I drive home, it’s dark. On Friday the fuel guy came to make a delivery and I went out front to talk to him and it occurred to me that I couldn’t remember the last time I stood in front of my house in the daylight. I made a point to walk around the whole thing and saw where some bulbs had sent a few sprouts to peek out of the mud.

2. Cold Water. The original footprint of our house is pretty small and we have a kickass oil furnace that blasts cozy hot air out of three major vents in the front half of the house. My office room is the small bedroom and if I have the door closed it actually can get too hot in there. In the 50s the house was remodeled and expanded to the back, creating the large kitchen and laundry room that were among the major selling points for us. (The other being the giant finished basement with bathroom which is Bob’s room, or as Kim calls it, “Bob’s apartment.”) The back part of the house has two lonely little heating vents so the kitchen and laundry room are the coolest parts of the house.

This morning I was getting my lunch ready, and I turned on the sink to wash my hands and it was like dipping them in glacier water. I hate wasting a gallon of water waiting for tepid just to wash my hands, but sheesh, that stuff is cold.

One Thing I Like About Winter:

1. Chilled Foods. We have a room attached to the garage that we call “the shop” but nothing remotely shoplike occurs out there. That’s where most of my gardening stuff is, two bikes, tons of empty boxes, quite a few full boxes, camp gear, a chest freezer, and so forth.

Over the weekend I made a big pot of soup and after dinner it was way too hot to stick in the refrigerator. I put it out in the shop and an hour later, perfectly chilled. I probably could have left it out there all night but since there was room in the fridge brought it inside. One Thanksgiving we let the turkey brine out there. The flip side of this is that I have no idea what’s in the chest freezer right now because every time I walk out there, I’m so cold I just grab the first thing that looks good and run back in. Not like I’m going to put on a coat (or sometimes even shoes) just to paw through all the frozen pizza flavors.

I also like that you can buy groceries and do 12 other errands and all the food is just fine in the trunk.

Check out this cool bookmark I found in an old book.

This morning I took Priscilla and the prints up to Debby’s for matting and framing. Bob and Priscilla are putting together a show of my late father-in-law’s photos in a local gallery and combining it with a celebration of Priscilla’s [redacted, but ends in an “0”] birthday next month.

Bob was going to do this but since he still needs to take a nap after he wakes up and scratches himself, I decided to go instead. I’ve never been to Debby’s. She lives about a half hour drive north of us in a gorgeous house in the mountains with a fabulous view. She shows her work in all kinds of art shows and trades goodies with other artists so every corner had some sort of beautiful treat to look at. It was fun to see her place and ask her questions about her art.

When I got home it was the usual “getting organized.” I finally cleaned off my desk and compiled all my various lists onto one page. I have some sort of forgotten object/activity anxiety and when I worry I’ll forget something, I write it down. I might write the same thing down 3 times. Then I have a pile of stickies and old envelopes and scrap paper and index cards all with anxious scrawls and exclamations points or highlighter on them. I also compiled my Target list and plan a major expedition for this week.

I’m working tomorrow. Our firm is practically the only business in the building that’s open. No lines for lunch! Traffic is light. Good side to everything.

I was scanning some more old photos this morning and chose this gem to continue the theme of bitchin old cars. I think it’s France around 1978 and I can’t tell you any more without doing some homework and not in the mood right now.

I turned my books 08 page into a blog so that my three loyal readers could subscribe as a feed. If I’ve managed to do anything right, you can also still view the page by clicking this link.

I’m still only at the 3rd grade level when it comes to the feed thing so if you need help, you’d be better off asking someone else. I use Google Reader.

I also hate the template and my attempts to customize made me want to brain myself with the keyboard. I have no idea how I set up my original page. I’m sure a large quantity of red wine was involved. Will fix template some other day, probably in the far, far future.

Cold and drippy out. We’re off to take my dear husband to the doctor. He’s still down with the crud and this is too long.