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Tag Archives: enough about the roof already
A couple weeks ago, Timbers legend Diego Valeri was honored at the match. He did the coin toss. We were playing Columbus and their team captain, Darlington Nagbe is also a Timbers legend. Our captain, Diego Chara, you guessed it, legend. They all played on the team when we won the Championship. It was so sweet and wholesome to see all three of them there.
I think this person is my soulmate:
“But speaking for myself, I do not believe that anything can be as good as not waiting in line feels.”
“It is my opinion that no food, no experience, no exhibit can ever successfully compensate for the suffering and personal degradation line-waiting inflicts upon me, and therefore if a line ever gets in between myself and a desired encounter I immediately surrender and go elsewhere.”
Well, maybe not my soulmate in the full intention of this essay.
I don’t like to wait in line. It’s not snobby. I don’t mean like wait at the grocery store or at the airport.
But not for attractions like restaurants or museum exhibits.
Now that I’m trying to articulate it, I see that my personal stance is very particular and hard to explain.
I guess I just don’t see the point. Waiting in line to get into a packed restaurant where the servers are harried and you’re elbow to elbow and can barely have a conversation. How is this enjoyable? Same thing when you’re traveling and there’s some famous object and you get on a bus and arrive at the famous object and then join the throngs of people to see the famous object. Why is *this* object famous and not that object next to your hotel where there is no crowd?
I don’t get it. No judgement. I just don’t get it.
If in all my endless methods of flogging and self-promotion, if you didn’t hear, Book #2 of Crooked Rock is out in the world. All the details and links are here.
Today I’m going to write about a somewhat recent re-watch of the movie: Bull Durham. It came out in 1988 and starred Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon, if you’re scratching your head and trying to remember.
This movie did not hold up as well as I expected. I thought Sarandon was kinda shrill and didn’t think they had as much chemistry as they were trying to sell us on. Tim Robbins was good. I had other thoughts, too, and I remember taking notes. Except the only note I can find says “hair on chest.”
There’s a locker room scene and I was struck by all the chest hair. Remember the days when it was totally okay to grow hair below the neck? I am not onboard for all this depilatorization. Is that a word? Well it should be. If impactful gets to be a word than depilatorization can be a word, too.
So, back when I watched the movie I researched when this idea that men had to have hairless chests started and the google blamed it on Marky Mark when he was doing those Calvin Klien ads. Then I found articles where men complained about what a pain it was to do all this hair removal.
Tell me about it.
I think the moment has passed because I’ve seen men with chest hair again — on Supernatural and probably something else I can’t remember right now.
In other news, Comcast made us upgrade all our gear which was a large pain in the ass that Bob bore the brunt of. (Thank you, dear!) But while we’re still tweaking everything, something is wrong so it kicks me off the wireless once every 24 hours so I have to enter passwords on everything I own and/or use, every day. I’m tired of passwords. And PIN numbers. And secret words. And special questions. I don’t really want anyone to scan my retina but it that will save me all this other crapola, I will reluctantly sign up.
Last night I came home and saw this on the counter. I said: Is that an otter holding a pizza? Bob said: Yes. His friend Kitty made a whole bunch otters with pizza and each one had a different topping. She let him pick the one he wanted. The otter is his spirit animal. And here is proof that there are a lot of otters with pizzas out there.
In other news, huge tragedy. My favorite summer shoes finally bit the dust.
We used a chunk of savings to pay off a loan last month and ever since everything you can imagine has been breaking: cars, A/C unit, plumbing issue, my tooth, and now my favorite shoes.
They are super old. Someone was admiring them last weekend and I said they were really old. I looked it up in honor of this post and they are 15 years old. They could have started driving next year. They have been all over the world and all over the country.
They were not cheap and I remember when I bought them a friend balked at how much I paid for them.
I estimate I paid less than a dime for every time I wore them.
Look: the heel completely disintegrated. I was walking back from my dentist appointment and wondering what was wrong with my shoes. Both feet pooped out at the same time.
I went to use my fancy camera for these pictures and that seems to have died, too. I checked and I bought that in February of 2008. The dryer has been acting funny but I thought that was going to die for the past 5 years. We got that before we got married (1996). I hope it hangs on.
Did I mention I bought new glasses? I’m trying to give myself time to adapt but I am very sad that I’m not liking them. I’ve never taken glasses back before. I don’t know what’s going on but it seems like there’s only a tiny focused part in the middle of the lens and I have to keep moving my head around to see. This is not going to help with my neck pain. Or poor eyesight.
A fun problem to deal with after the new year.
I’m back from the holidays. I had a stupendously wonderful time. I ate and drank in heroic volumes so it was nice to go 24 hours (yesterday) and eat nothing but soup and fruit so I would be ready for a second round (starting today.)
Did I ever mention that guy who came by with the box of meat? This was actually awhile ago but I was thinking about it the other day. When I searched my archives I came up with this truck full of meat story from 2001.
I think it was the end of the summer and this guy who looked pretty rough around the edges rang the doorbell and when I opened the door he was standing in the yard next door. He hollered that he had this box of meat for me and to just hang on while he carried it over. When he arrived at my doorstep he told me that he would be putting it just inside my door.
“No you’re not,” I said.
“I’m not supposed to put it down without an overhang.”
“I didn’t even ask you to bring it over here,” I said.
He then waved over his shoulder and told me that my neighbors had already taken advantage of this incredible offer. You know what? Almost every sales person who has ever shown up at my front door and told me that my neighbor (non-specific wave over the shoulder) has already taken advantage of this incredible offer.
He had boxes of chicken and boxes of beef. The van door was open and there was no refrigeration that I could see. He also had a flier about their great company wandering neighborhoods with incredible boxes of meat.
What I wanted to say was, “If I go in the house and google ‘meat from a van,’ am I going to get a whole bunch hits that say, ‘Best offer ever’?”
But instead I told him I didn’t want any meat and to have a nice day. To save you the trouble, if you google meat from a van, you will get numerous sad tales, many from elderly people, who bought crap meat from a van and there was no way to get their money back.
Two weeks ago I was wiping down the shower doors and they got gummed up so they wouldn’t slide on the track. In the process of trying to fix this, I knocked one of the doors completely off the track.
I very quickly learned that these shower doors are made of actual glass and weigh a million pounds. There was a split second where I was certain I would win a Darwin Award for bleeding to death in my own bathtub after cutting off my foot with a shower door — all because of cleaning.
I was able to control it enough to not hurt myself and screamed my head off and my husband ran in and lifted the thing off me. There was a handful of glass shards in the bottom of the tub and the door was chipped in one corner.
Once I got over the thrill of not being hurt, we had two problems. (1) The broken shower door and (2) the giant gouge in the tub. Also keep in mind that we aren’t even finished paying for this bathroom yet.
As is well documented here, I’m not good at household things and don’t want to invest any time getting better at it. I wasn’t even sure where to start. The people that remodeled the bathroom retired about 5 minutes after they cashed our final payment so that wasn’t an option. I went through the file and wrote down what I thought were relevant notes and I took a few photos of the shower door and went out for round 1.
First, I went to a local glass shop because they’ve replaced a couple of windshields for us and were always nice and I figured if they couldn’t help us they could at least point us in the right direction. I was wrong. It would be too long and boring to tell you the whole conversation but you can get the idea from this: after I explained what happened the guy said, “What do you want me to do about it?” He also told me that usually if tempered glass gets hit hard enough to chip, it shatters.
Eventually he was able to point to something in my notes that is apparently the manufacturer so I went online and found the local rep for that and phoned and the line was disconnected.
Meanwhile, my husband received my unhappy texts during this adventure. He saw a glass place when he was out and about and ran in there and they were super nice and helpful. They knew the company that did our remodel. They knew the manufacturer. Someone came by to look at the damage. He told us that he’d never seen a door chip like that and not shatter.
Why is this used to make shower doors?
He said he’d put together an estimate for us. I don’t know what this is going to cost us but I am hopeful that I will soon have a brand new, million pound, shatterable shower door.
For the gouge in the bathtub, I spent a goodly amount of time reading disheartening things online about gouged bathtubs.
After what I deemed enough responsible research, I found a do-it-yourself kit that looked promising but asked me 100 questions about my tub. Did you know that some of the color choices are: Artic, Snow, Cloud, Linen and Béchamel? (Barely exaggerating). White, I kept insisting. Then there was something about how to tell what kind of tub you have and you sand the gouge and then smell it. My bathtub smelled like my shampoo which was not one of the choices.
I made my best guesses and went through the order screens. When I got to the end, the shipping and handling charges added another 50% to the cost. So I said, Screw you. I’m not doing that. What the hell are “handling” charges? It’s like when you buy tickets and they charge you a $5 convenience charge to print them yourself. If they were shipping me an alligator I could see charging me a fee. But not for sticking some painty stuff and sandpaper into an envelope.
I did some more research and found the company that made my tub and they had a number to call. I got that lady on the phone and we had to go through the same questions about what color my tub is and what it’s made out of and what product line it is, because that’s something a person should keep track of. And we get to the end of that round and then she said it was out of stock.
She said they buy it from someone else and gave me that number and that’s when I talked to St. Nancy of New Jersey.
St. Nancy was super friendly and helpful and explained to me how she used the product on her sink.
“Are you handy or can anyone do this?” I asked.
“My husband says I have 4 thumbs,” St. Nancy said. “But I think I’m handy.”
My fix-it kit arrived the next day. At first I rigorously followed the directions but the filler stuff just shrunk and brushed out of the dent. So I gave up on the filler and tried to make light coats of the chip filler. That wasn’t looking so hot either. The directions said, “Whatever you do, don’t just glop it on.” But when I glopped it on the gouge was covered.
Not pretty but if it works, good enough for me.
Apparently I was so excited about our first pre-season game at home, I forgot how to use my camera. When I went to download, this was the only photo. I know I took more than that.
But not many. Because it was cold. Above freezing, but just barely. Add that to my list of crazy love for the Timbers. Sitting outside wearing 200 layers and jumping around like the Pillsbury Doughboy in 30-something degrees. 16,500 people came out for a pre-season game. We played San Jose and see that #8? That’s Wondo. He has played for the US National team and he’s Kiowa and my hero.
But I love the Timbers more!
My favorite website is the Awl. About twice a year I go through a thing where I pare down all my Internet activity but the Awl always makes the cut.
Earlier this week they posted this video: http://www.theawl.com/2012/02/bon-iver-towers which they referred to as the new trailer for The Hobbit. And since I’m 1000 years old and don’t know the first thing about Bon Iver. I didn’t get the joke and I very happily clicked the link thinking: OOH! New Hobbit trailer.
Then I watched it unfold and I was thinking: huh, so is that a Hobbit? Oh. But he’s wearing shoes. And he has a fish net? That he’s throwing into his truck?
It’s sad how long it took me to get that it *wasn’t* a new Hobbit trailer. And I’m a regular of the website. D’oh!
The music made me want to stick forks in my ears.
Remember when all the music was Mötlëy Crüë and Dëf Lëppärd? Don’t you wish that would come back?
Apparently this video is a tribute to Native American preservation land.
Never heard of Native American preservation land?
No one has. Because there’s no such thing. And “a tribute” meaning what? Adrienne does a great job of breaking it all down.
Meanwhile, I’m going to clean my ears out with some Ratt.
I was just thinking that I’m tired of this post-a-day thing but I’ve come this far and I hate quitting so I’ll just keep slogging. Right now it feels like my whole life is a phoned-in slog. Maybe when I’ve finally stopped coughing every 15 seconds (yes, that San Diego souvenir cough refuses to release me from its horky grasp) I’ll have a better attitude.
Meanwhile, I found a URL in my comment spam from this company that I can hire to write my content. What a great idea. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before.
It’s only a penny a word and you can pick the topics. I’m sorta of dying to try it.
I have a piece of paper by my desk to jot my ideas for potential topics. So far I have: pumpkin juggling, me (I’d love to see a 500 article written about me by a stranger getting paid .01 a word), clowns with chainsaws, and how to get trapped in a locker room with a professional soccer team for a weekend.
Fall garden and Photographer
I can’t remember how much about then next door neighbor saga I’ve written about here.
The house next door to us turned into a rental maybe ten years ago. I think we’re on our fifth set of renters.
Of the five times, this is now the third time we had a couple of nice people move in, introduce themselves and then the situation changed. Once it was a man and his teenaged son. Once it was a woman and her ill mother and this most recent time it was a newly separated woman and her two small children.
Shortly after we meet the renters there are all sorts of cars all the time. Different people coming and going, moving stuff in and out.
It’s never been a big problem. It’s not like the people are noisy or do the things that terrible neighbors do, but often these extra people aren’t friendly and we live in a neighborhood. You’d like to have an idea who is living in the house next door to you.
It was hard to believe it when it started happening again. And this lastest tenant and her friends have an amazing number of vehicles, many of them huge. I’ve counted at least 5 different sedan type cars that are parked over there regularly. They had an RV for awhile. Then this cargo truck took over the driveway. There’s a regular heavy duty pick-up truck and then just recently another huge utility type truck showed up.
It seemed to be escalating with no end in sight and I was wondering what next. A tour bus? A bulldozer? A jumbo jet? Bob thought we should complain to the rental agent, who is also a neighbor. I thought we should talk to the neighbor but I’m always afraid that’s going to make it worse.
We’ve become acquainted with the neighbor on the other side of the rental house and we’ve commiserated back and forth. She told us she complained and now all the trucks are gone except for pick-up truck. Yay. Hopefully there won’t be some new crazy development.
Last night someone knocked on the door about the time I was sitting down to dinner and my fresh disks of The 4400 (season 2) that I have to power through before the new season starts on Sunday. This on top of my very heavy soccer watching schedule that begins tomorrow for World Cup. (Bob was not home.)
It’s my general policy to ignore it when someone knocks on the door because unless I’m expecting someone, it’s NEVER anyone I want to talk to. Plus, I was half in my pajamas because I’d spilled something on my pants and shucked them off then and there and tossed them in the wash. But stupidly, I answered the door anyway.
It’s a guy who based purely on appearance and demeanor, seems to be a regular type guy. There is a truck in the driveway with a guy sitting in the passenger seat, looking like he wants to go home so it at least seems that they’re not going door-to-door.
Guy: You been having problems with your roof leaking?
[A number of years ago during a huge storm parts of our roof blew off. I was going to link to the story but apparently it’s not here anymore. I’ll put it back up later. The damaged part was replaced with different tiles so we have what Bob refers to as a “two toned roof.” I knew this was what he saw but we’ve had no problems with the roof since then.]
Guy: I noticed you have the new tiles up. We’re working on your neighbor’s roof, Mr. [something]? Driving by. Thought we could help you out.
Me thinking: The old “we were just driving by” coupled with the old “we’re working for your neighbor”, who I’ve never heard of, ploys. I try to think if I’ve seen a new roof go up lately.
Me: We’re not having any problems with the roof. There was a storm and part of it blew back.
Guy: How much they charge you for that?
Me thinking: I hate it when sales people ask how much I pay for something. There is no reason on the planet that you need to know that unless you’re going to use it against me as part of your sales script.
Me: I don’t know. (also true) Insurance took care of it.
Guy: (dubiously) You the property owner?
Me thinking: Yes Cletus, I am the fuking property owner.
Me (a few sparks flying out of my ears): Yes.
Guy: I could fix that for you make it look real nice. $8,000.
Me (sparks are now little flames): Why would I fix something that isn’t broken?
Guy: I noticed on the other side that its aging. That’s why it blew off.
Me thinking: OH! So now we’ve gone from “did you have a problem with a leak?” to “I know the entire story of your roof which I have observed from your front yard.”
Me: (flames erupting from ears, nostrils and a general halo of flames around my head.) That’s not why the roof blew off. Did you want to leave a card?
Guy: I gave the last one away. I’m licensed and bonded.
Me thinking: congrad-u-fuking-lations.