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Too Much Stuff On My Hands

Even though it isn’t November yet, I am all NaBlo all the time. I’m trying to get my page set up and read the blogs in the groups I’ve joined and started to leave comments and bookmark places I want to return to. Look at me all join-y and everything. Last year when I signed up for NaBlo I’d never left a comment in my life.

Last night we finally saw Orhan Pamuk at Arts & Lectures. For those of you that haven’t been following along, I spent most of last month trying to read one of his books and ended up reading a lot of other books about vampires instead. He won the Nobel Prize. The vampires just fell in love and experienced angst.

He was a fabulous speaker – very funny with great stories. He answered a question about the book I was trying to read, Snow that made me want to try to finish it. I should have asked him if he planned to write a book about vampires.

Long day. I’ve fired up a presto-log and have soup heating on the stove and I’m looking forward to a couple of hours of mindless television.

Update on the government agency complaint: both people I contacted got back to me with what I needed. Again, I believe this blog has magical qualities so I will point out once again, that I’ve never won a bazillion dollars in the lottery.

Time Suck
I signed up for NaBloPoMo yesterday (Orhan Pamuk for our first Arts and Lectures. I never did manage to finish his book (see book 29.5) but I did read most of an interview with him in last Sunday’s paper. I don’t know why but he seems to inspire major Short Attention Span Theater in me.

Finally as an aside: why would a government agency bother with having a website with email contact addresses if they have no intention whatsoever of ever responding to your inquiries?

Have You Got A Bad Back?
Most weekends have the same rhythm but it surprises me anyway. At first I’m regrouping from the work week and tend to waste a lot of time noodling around, reading, catching up on shows, napping, inventorying the contents of the fridge and making lists of things I should be doing. Then at the end of the weekend I’m doing 150 things at once and can barely finish any of them.

On Saturday morning I did a quick trip to the Farmer’s Market to buy apples and pears. I walked away with two giant canvas bags stuffed with Jonagolds, Honey Crips, Asian Pears, Bartletts, some other giant pears and one giant apple that’s almost as big as my head. I think it’s called a Hamer. I also got some turnips and salad stuff.

I did a move almost identical to one I did two years ago. I carried a bag in each hand and when I got to the car I transferred both into my left hand so I could open the car door and the weight surprised me and dragged my arm down and I pulled a muscle in my back under my shoulder blade. Weirdly, it only hurts when I stand or sit.

It doesn’t bother me when I do yoga and believe me I checked out a wide range of postures including backbends and nary a twinge.

It also didn’t bother me during gardening. And I’m glad I got out there because the forecast shows nothing but grey and wet on the way. I’m going to have to do the big bulb installation in the mud. I don’t mind digging outside if its cool and misty but I hate the mud.

Yesterday one of my main projects was trying to make more shelf space in my room so I can leave my writing projects out in individual easy-to-access piles with all related books and notes together. I cleaned some junk out of my closet and rearranged it and made some progress but still need to paw through some more crap. Technology sure creates a lot of junk. I have all kinds of cables and adapters and plastic widgets and cds that say READ ME FIRST and booklets in 10 different languages. And I’m afraid to throw any of it way.

Bugs
Yesterday we had one final visit from the furnace folks to finish up the clean-up. That’s 5 of my days off in the last month that I’ve had to sit around the house and wait for someone to come to something do the furnace.

He ended up arriving much later than originally expected so once again, things that I planned to do went haywire. He finally left around 4:45p and I wanted to take a walk because it was so gorgeous out. I made it a quick walk and took photos of spiders all around the neighborhood and they mostly came out poorly. I might throw some up on Flickr later. This is the first praying mantis I have ever seen in my yard.

Then I had some food I wanted to cook up with lentils and chard because Bob wasn’t going to be home for dinner and he doesn’t not share my love of greens and legumes and of course it all took longer than expected and I was starving so I ate some chips as a snack, then I made a salad and ate a slice of fresh baked bread. When my chard masterpieces were finally done around 8pm I wasn’t very hungry.

On the bright side: I have delicious lentil chard soup for breakfast. I also have an ambitious list of things to do today so I’ll not linger here.

I have one more quick note. I have these recipes out and I always like it when a recipe says something like : Serve with sour cream if desired.

If desired.

Isn’t the whole cooking exercise because you desire? Would you serve with sour cream if you didn’t desire? Why not say “try with sour cream” or “sour cream is a great garnish”?

“If desired,” sounds funny.

Huge Family

For my three loyal readers who don’t know this, my husband and I don’t have the same last name. His last name is Hughes.

Bob went to a workshop out of town yesterday and he told me he’d call when he arrived and got settled.

The phone rang at about the right time and I assumed it was him and said a very friendly, “Hello.”

An equally friendly English-as-a-second-language voice asked for Mrs. Huge.

I couldn’t resist.

“I’m Mrs. Huge,” I said.

It was a telemarketer.

More Pumpkin

I’ve been having a hard time remembering which way is up this week. Between the insomnia and shuttling back and forth to the inlaws for overnight due to the oil overflow incident plus the extra time involved with taking the bus, I’m off my game. I slept about 9 hours last night so I’m feeling human again today. I also did errands and my centering ritual which involves checking the refrigerator for bad dairy and scrubbing my bathroom sink.

We switched oil companies this winter and signed up for autofill. They use some sort of scientific quadratic equation that factors in daily temperatures and how much oil you’ve used in the past and who knows what else and then they bring you oil when you need it.

Historically this has worked perfectly for us and we normally get two deliveries a year. The problem started a year ago with the company we used to use because first I asked them to fill us up in the Fall and they said we weren’t ready yet. I said we’d prefer to fill the tank then because the autofill *always* comes in the middle of Christmas when it would be nice to avoid an extra expense. They talked me out of it and then delivered our fuel in the middle of Christmas. By April we were very low on fuel and we kept expecting a delivery but one never came so finally we called and they told us we weren’t ready yet.

Like they would know better than us.

So we ordered 100 gallons and vowed never to do business with them again. Now we have this new company and I knew they planned to fill us up in October but I thought it would be more toward the end of the month.

That’s why when I smelled oil, I assumed our tank was busted and not that it was related to a delivery. After some sleuthing (full disclosure: our neighbor St. Joe of 44th Street came over and looked at it because we’re not very bright) we figured out that it wasn’t a leak it was an overflow. This is a photo of the moved pumpkin.

We spent the night at my mother-in-law’s again last night and now the house smells about 90% back to normal. We’ve got another service call this afternoon to replace the broken part and check on the clean up. They’ve also noted the size of our tank so this won’t happen next time. And hopefully this means that we’ve worked out all our bad furnace karma before the dead of winter.

On to pumpkin talk because there hasn’t been enough pumpkin around here lately.

I’ve brought all my pumpkins in except the oil spill pumpkin and this patch here. These are my best ones and I’m worried that someone might come by and play kick ball with them. The big ones are ready but there’s this little yellow one that started late and is growing like mad and I want to give it a chance. I don’t understand pumpkinology and why some vines wither and you just bring the pumpkin in and other vines keep going and going. The way these vines are connected, I can’t cut off the big one without cutting off the little one, too.

This patch in the front of the house was my joke patch. I just threw them in there to see what happened. It ended up being my heartiest plant.

This vine looks like it could keep going. There are even flowers on the vine.

The weather is supposed to be decent this weekend so my goal (we’ll see how ambitious I am) is to get everything ready for the bulbs which should be arriving next week.

105 Express to Downtown
I don’t have full update on the furnace/oil leak problem yet, but upon further investigation, it appears that things are not what they seem. I’m going to wait until I talk to the oil people before I issue an update.

Also, I haven’t been writing about my insomnia this week because that topic is even boring me but I’m operating on low sleep this week. Last night, about 45 minutes after I went to bed, my dear husband decided that it wasn’t a good idea for me to be sleeping in a thick cloud of heating fuel vapor so he woke me up. At first we were going to sleep in the basement with the windows open but after further discussion we decided to go to my mother-in-laws because at this point in our lives we can’t afford to kill any more brain cells and in a worse scenario, who wants to be the people who die in their beds because of their heating oil?

So at 10:30pm I put on a sweatshirt and slippers and grabbed my purse and off we went. Luckily her house is about 3 minutes away. But then I couldn’t get back to sleep and then I woke up at 3:30 and then the alarm went off at 5am so we could get back home with enough time to shower, etc. and now the bags under my eyes are dragging on the floor.

Here’s the deal with the bus. I am now taking the bus and I would love to tell you a whole back story on this but this isn’t the time or place. The express bus between Vancouver and Portland is awesome. It’s quick and easy, not crowded, nice people, nice drivers. The Portland stop is 1.5 blocks from my office. I have no problem with this method of commuting.

The problem is the bus between downtown Vancouver and my house. It runs about every 45 minutes. It also takes 45 minutes to walk that distance. I don’t mind walking at all except when it’s dark, raining and/or 40 degrees and that’s what it’s going to be for the next many months. The rain part, all the time. Forty-five minutes is a long time to wait for a bus, especially if the weather is crap or it’s dark. (In case you’re wondering: there’s no free parking near the Vancouver transit center and there is potentially neighborhood parking but still at least a 20 minute walk away.)

I’ve been trying it out this week. The afternoon bus connector bus is at 4:40 or 5:25. On Monday I left the office and took the 4:35 express bus. There wasn’t a speck of traffic and we rolled into Vancouver at 4:50. “Screw it,” I said. And I walked.

Yesterday I was record-breakingly productive at work and barely took 15 minutes for lunch so I decided to leave early and take the 4:05 express and there was a giant traffic jam and we pulled into Vancouver at 4:42. “Screw it,” I said. And I walked. It’s a nice work out so we’ll go with it while we can.

I only have to do it 3 days a week and Bob can pick me up on some days. I’m going to see if there’s another route that has a stop near my house where maybe I have to walk further from the bus stop but won’t have so much waiting.

Update: Our tank didn’t leak. It was overfilled. They’re coming out to deal with it. The funny part is that we didn’t know they were out there and since the fuel gauge was on empty, I assumed we had a leak. I guess the overfill somehow disconnected the gauge. That wasn’t the funny part, the funny part is that one of my pumpkins is growing in front of the fill pipe on the outside and when I got home I noticed it looked moved and I thought maybe some kids were messing around with it.

From the Even More Bad News Department
I don’t even have time to tell you about the bus debacle. Well, debacle is a slight exaggeration. That will have to wait until tomorrow.

But I pushed open the front door to the alarming smell of oil refinery.

“This can’t be good,” I thought.

My regular readers have been following along with our furnace issues. I wandered through the house violently sniffing until I got a little light-headed. About that time my cellphone went off and my dear husband wanted to know how the bus went.

“The house smells terrible,” I said.

While he was on the phone I went down to the basement and it smelled worse than upstairs. I couldn’t find a flashlight so I grabbed a box of matches.

Just kidding!

I ran back upstairs and found a flashlight and opened the oil tank closet and hey, the fuel indicator was on empty and there was an oily sheen on the floor. [insert numerous bad words of great creativity here.]

I turned off the furnace. At least it’s 62 degrees outside. For now.

On the bright side: at least the tank was already almost empty. Better cancel that oil delivery. Wonder what we’re in for now. Will EPA condemn us? Will we finally tap that home equity to get the whole thing fixed?

Stay tuned.

Tales from Portland Clinic
Yesterday I had a mammogram. It’s not my favorite but it’s better than a lot of things that can happen at the doctor’s office and I’m grateful I have preventative health care. Having said all that, it is a damn weird procedure.

Every time I do it, this is maybe the 4th time, I think about two things. One is what a bizarre job it must be to spend all day squeezing and flattening women’s breasts. I’m sure there are lots of men who would think: hey, sounds good to me. I wonder how many men even have that job. I’m sure legally it would be discrimination to refuse to hire a man to be a breast technician. They probably aren’t really called that. Mammogramographer? Radiologist? I don’t know. But I bet a lot of women would be uncomfortable having a strange man handling her breasts in such a personal way. I bet there are a lot of women who are uncomfortable having any stranger handling her breasts.

My second thought is that it seems like a fairly primitive process for our modern times. There you are standing with your arms wrapped around a machine, chin up, shoulder down, breath held and your boob flattened to its maximum flatness. (Sexy!). Can’t they come up with a better way?

I get my healthcare at an all purpose clinic in downtown Portland. There are a lot of old people coming into this clinic. As I sat in the waiting room, an elder couple got off the elevator and slowly wobbled to check-in. Don’t you worry when you see an elder couple and both of them can barely keep upright?

She had a cane and he walked very slowly and carried her purse. The receptionist told them to sit down and they ended up in the cluster of chairs where I was. The man stood there looking at the magazines, I guess trying to pick something to read before he sat down. The woman couldn’t get by to sit down so finally she turned around and tottered over to the reception desk. The receptionist asked if she need help and she said, “My husband is in my way so I’m going to sit over here,” and she went to the complete opposite side of the room to sit down.

The man sat near me and after a bit a nurse comes out and said, “Judith?” There’s a long pause and then she says it again. Finally the man says, “My wife can’t hear you. She’s over there.” The nurse tracks down Judith and bring her to the entrance. The man has managed to stand up and Judith says, “You don’t have to come in” and this is an order not a request. The man says, “Oh yes, I do.”

You know every night they probably stare at each other across the kitchen table wondering when the other will die.

Then a guy came in with one of those walkers that doubles as a seat (whoever invented that should have a giant ambulatory care center named after him or her) and wearing a hat that said World War II Veteran and singing “Strangers in the Night.” He came out of the elevator singing and the staff all said, “Hi, Leo.”

They took me back and when I got out of the changing room they asked me to wait until the boob-crush room was free. There were two chairs in a corner and Leo’s walker-seat was in front of both of them. The walker was draped with all kinds of bags of stuff and also had an American flag on it. I moved it a bit so I could sit down. The staff was trying to get Leo into a gown for whatever radiology procedure he needed. He had to come out and find his paperwork and when he saw me sitting there he asked if I liked music and when I said yes, he sang “What’s It All About, Alfie?” and then the radiologist wrangled him back to the exam room.

It was the best mammogram warm-up show ever.

Indigenous Peoples Day
I thought about linking to some inflammatory anti-Columbus Day stuff, but I’m not going to. I don’t have a problem with Columbus but I don’t understand why there is a federal holiday in his honor. And crediting him for “discovering” America is a stretch.

But today I’m focusing on positive things like how awesome it was to have my closet all turned over and re-organized for winter. Now I can easily find my closed-toe shoes, fuzzy sweaters and wool slacks. Now the weather is probably going surprise us with one last warm sunny streak and I’ll need to dig out the linen slacks again. *And I won’t complain a bit.*

People are already talking about NaBloPoMo which is National Blog Posting Month in November where you post every single day for a month. I did it last year and was the grand prize winner. It was a drawing, not like someone judged my posts. I think that might sound ungrateful but not my intention: it was awesome.

I decided not to participate this year. I loved all the extra traffic and comments and I loved reading so many other blogs and making new friends. However, I’ve got some other projects that I need to prioritize right now and I can’t afford to invest that much time hanging out on the Internet. Even as I’m typing this, I’m trying to talk myself into it. Something about the structure of having to do something every day appeals to my inner dictator. We’ll see. But probably not.