feelin' bettah

In case you were wondering. I mailed off the Refunding Bond and Release yesterday. The attorney is a joke. I vented my spleen. It's all good.

lovin' the pup

I think it could be safely said that Zach is well-socialized with other dogs. Even really, really tiny dogs. This is our friend Tommy's 12-week old miniature Dachshund, SueKaye.


She was terrified of Zach at first, but he eventually just flattened himself out and let her approach him. It was amazing to see.


Yeah. I think Zach's a keeper.

Photos by OnlyLynne.

new goal

The morning started with laundry. This requires using half a bottle of Shout! on the fronts of all my shirts. And right now I'm making two pans of enchiladas: chicken with red chili sauce, and mushroom and zucchini with green chili sauce.

I'm wearing the apron that reads: Life Is Too Short To Cook For You People. And I have a new goal.

I want to get through one single day that involves cooking or eating without having to change my clothes at the end of it.

what's wrong with me?

Okay, stop right there. It's a rhetorical question.

The more I looked at the correspondence from the attorney, the more confused I got. The letter stated there were two documents I had to sign in the presence of a notary. But there was only one document. Procedures that are required by the State of New Joy Sea weren't followed. There are no apparent monies being held back to satisfy any future expenses, except for $5,000 to the lawyer. He's redirecting all questions to the estate accountant, didn't have time to answer the five questions in my email, and mentioned to another beneficiary that an amended tax return is being filed. So something has been screwed up.

This is what I know: I certainly cannot trust that what I'm reading is correct. I'm still not sure how to proceed, or even what the point is.

Why am I bothering to even think about this?

buggers

So my Aunt Grace's estate is about to be finished. She remembered me (and nine other people and her church) in her will. I received the "informal" accounting from the "lawyer" late last week. I need to have my signature witnessed and notarized and return the documents to the "lawyer" as soon as possible.

Why, you ask, do I put quotes around the word lawyer? Well, let me just say that Tri-pony and Tri-pony are, by my estimation, the cheapest crappiest attorneys the executors could have chosen. Misspellings? Wrong names and addresses? Nothing mailed with return receipt? The accounting looks like it was done by someone with severe math impairment. Oh, and I can't reconcile the numbers. There's something between $2,500 and $2,700 discrepancy. Since this is an "informal" accounting, there's no way for me to know.

This is small potatoes, all in all. Aunt Grace was kind to me and I am grateful. But when I did the accounting for my mother's estate, I got to within $.30 of reconciling. It probably took a few years off my life (there were many securities and lots of gains and losses to account for) but my mother had been a bookkeeper and was a wiz with numbers. I took pride in living up to her expectations - okay, maybe this was the only time, but still - in handling her estate.

So looking at this garbage from the dirt-bag who was supposed to have taken care of my aunt in her last months and the dirt-bag attorney who is too stupid to use a spell-checker (what's a diburment?) kinda pushes my peeve buttons. Caring for an elder is an honor, as well as a huge responsibility. Carrying out that person's last wishes is no different.

At least that's how it looks to me. I can challenge the accounting, which will mean it would have to be audited by the State of New Joy Sea, which will only cost all of us some of our inheritance. Or I can let it go.

I know I can hold my head up when it comes to how I cared for Aunt Grace, even though I know I broke her heart when I told her we were leaving New Joy Sea. And I am grateful for the small sum she left me. The problem with the accounting is of no consequence, all in all.

When this is all over, I hope to be able to forget. Forgiving will be much more difficult to do.

well that got my heart pumping

Our illustrious bank, which for the purposes of this discussion we shall call, oh, say, Washington Mutual Masturbation Bank, has decided to impose a $10 service fee on our savings account, which is earning less than .3% on a rather substantial deposit amount.

This month's interest? $1.63. Yah. On a five-figure deposit.

The customer service rep refunded the charge, and I'm going to be looking for a new type of account tomorrow, or a new bank next week.

I really should pay more attention.

oh dear

hobbitt's return from Peru hasn't gone well. The flight from Lima last night was canceled. I don't yet know where or how he spent the night. He finally left early this morning and arrived in Miami with little time to spare to get through customs and make his next flight, which he barely did.

He sounds like a zombie.

And he's been stuck in coach. He booked himself a first-class ticket because he knew the travel would be wearing.

And my heart is breaking a little for him. He had an amazing time up until the return.

I'll collect him tonight and we should be back just after midnight. He'll probably sleep most of tomorrow. I've been managing quite well by myself so far. I don't mind doing it another day or two.

homecoming

The latest experiment here at druid labs, entitled "bhd's faith in her ability to cope" is about to come to an end. It has been a most successful trial, in which I remembered that I'm competent, capable, resourceful, and can reason my way around stressful situations.

Sounds simple, right? I'd forgotten all that stuff. Rather, I'd forgotten I had those traits. I had built a different mythology about myself, and got stuck in that story. I have a new story now. Rather, I have my original story back. I hope I can keep telling it to myself after hobbitt gets home.

hobbitt called just a few minutes ago. He'll be in Lima in about three hours. He called to tell me not to worry about the next cell phone bill. Evidently his was the only phone among the group to get a signal, so pretty much everyone used it to touch base with home. Worrying about the bill was ridiculous to begin with. Remind me of that when the bill comes, please.

It was wonderful to hear his voice. Other than on the answering machine, which I used frequently to remind myself of some chore when I was out and about the past two weeks, I hadn't heard it since the 5th. He has a deep and resonant voice that has always been music to my ears.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have mixed feelings about his return to our home. There is something luxurious about having this space all to myself. Some good decisions were made, such as putting the puppy in day care, which freed me up to come and go as I pleased without having to fret about locking him in his crate. It also required me to arise early, which is something that I haven't been able to accomplish on a regular basis for years. Rising earlier has kick-started my dreams again, and I've had to soothe myself after some pretty horrific nightmares. (This morning, for instance, I woke myself up about 4 a.m. while screaming "RAPE!" I hope none of the neighbors heard that.)

Even more than if I had been on vacation myself, I feel renewed and restored. And I need to make room in this altered life for someone who is likely transformed himself. Who will we be? What is our life going to be like now?

Discovering the answers to those questions is going to be pretty wonderful.

ready, set, go!

Here at druid labs we have a little video poker game that we keep in our bathroom. In New Joy Sea it was in the downstairs bath, but here, it's in the master. What it's taught me over the years is that I will never, ever gamble, but for what it's worth, it is rather entertaining while one must be seated on the throne.

In late 2002 my nephew Philip drew a royal flush. That's 3000 pts. Those points lasted for a long, long time before they were all spent.

Yesterday I drew a royal flush. Diamonds. Right now there's 3095 points on the game. Every deal costs 5 points. Again, this should last a good long time.

And good thing, too. I got a text message from hobbitt this morning. I hadn't heard from him in a week. The message said simply: "Out of the mountains. Heading for the jungle. Fighting the trots. Love ya!"

We'll be all set for him when he gets back on Wednesday.

the wall

Dunno why for sure, maybe it's because I got up uber-early and hit the ground running, and finished up my day an hour ago, but tonight I feel just a wee bit lonely.

Maybe it's because hobbitt has been gone for eight days and I haven't heard from him in five days.

No matter the reason, I'm going to have a cocktail and sit down with four or five NY Times Sunday crossword puzzles. The usual evening for me, but still.

Whee! This place rawks. Or something.

purring ice box

The fridge was fixed this afternoon by this guy.



Okay, it wasn't John O'Hurley but it might as well have been. The fellow had far less pepper and much more salt in his hair. Evidently we have an upgraded compressor in our ultra-cool refrigerator now. Whee.

So far it's working quite well. I should think so. Dammit.

appetite

It's been so hot the past few days I have eaten very little.

Over the course of two days, I prepared a "take-out" meal for my friend M, who has been including me in lots of family festivities since hobbitt's been gone. She's been entertaining many people, while on a work break, for more than a week, including me. She went back to work yesterday, and I thought I might treat her to a night off.

I made a chilled asparagus and orange soup; a Moroccan melon, citrus and carrot salad with a balsamic Dijon vinaigrette dressing; roasted sweet onions and peppers; and roasted chicken breasts with a mango chili and white wine reduction sauce. She came by this evening after work for a brief visit and to pick up the vittles.

There are leftovers of everything but the soup. And I don't feel like eating any of it. I know I should, but somehow I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe I'm just too tired. Maybe I haven't recovered from the heat. Maybe I've been too involved with this food to find it appealing right now.

This evening, I had a small cheese plate, with a wonderful Gouda cheese with sweet peppers, garlic and ginger. Omigosh it's good. And it was enough, I think.

For the most part, it seems that I'm far more intrigued with food when it doesn't actually involve me eating it. That should tell me something, but I'm afraid I'm not getting the message.

sleeping, dreaming

I had a strange dream early this morning. Very, very strange.

In the dream I was attending a progressive theatre night - imagine a progressive dinner but instead of traveling from home to home for different courses, we were traveling from one performance art piece to another. One I distinctly remember had actors dressed in colorful sea creature clothing, lying about as if they were clams or anemones.

Andy Samberg was there. He was cute. He caught my eye. He was sporting facial hair a la "Dick in a Box."

As we were about to change venues one more time, he stood extremely close to me (in the dream he was much taller than I), and gave me a friendly hug. What was strange is that he was sporting a huge erection. I didn't see it, but I felt it against my body. The man had superhuman junk. No shit.

This didn't sit well with me. I thought it a rude gesture, and told him that except for that impropriety, I might have considered dating him. He was crushed. He thought he was being funny. (Is he funny? I haven't seen Saturday Night Live in decades, so I'd have no idea.)

A short while later, while walking with my sister, I told her about that encounter. She couldn't believe I'd pass up an opportunity to have sex with such a well-endowed and quite handsome man. That made me reconsider. Immediately. It hardly mattered that I'm old enough to be his mother.

Thus commenced more flirtation. Eventually, when it was about to get serious, I waved my hands in front of him, saying, "Obviously you've neglected to notice something about me." Then he spied my wedding ring. "How is this going to work?" he asked. I didn't actually have an answer.

Then I woke up. You thought there was going to be sex? Oops.

why I hate sears and always, always will

So by now we all know that our fridge broke, but then started working again. It's working now. I think. I hope.

When the compressor was delivered, I was told to call for an "emergency appointment" to have it installed. It will take three hours for this work. The first appointment was July 16 - Monday. So, whatever. I took that appointment but asked to be informed of any cancellations.

Got an automated call tonight about a service call tomorrow. Tomorrow. That's cool, right?

Nope. The scheduled arrival time of the technician is "between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m." When I called the center, they told me that I'm the 4th stop of the day for the technician, so probably afternoon. But maybe late morning.

Which sucks. I have an appointment for a much-needed massage at 11 tomorrow morning. And I have an appointment at 4:45 in the afternoon. And I have to cook dinner for a friend and pick up the puppy from daycare before that 4:45 appointment, too.

So basically I've had to clear my schedule so that I can sit here and wait all day tomorrow. Gee.

Okay, I'll cop to being pleased that the f*cker is about to be fixed. Again. And I should be glad it wasn't today, when it got to be 85°F in the house. Grrrrr.

mofoing the spousal unit

My little sister and I have a phrase we use when we are bitching about our spouses. Well, mostly she does. Can't remember the last time I had something to bitch about with hobbitt.

She'll say, "I'm motherf*cking Alan today." Translation: I'm using that word about him repeatedly because he deserves it.

She's been mofoing him lately because he couldn't find his wallet the other day. For some reason he gets very suspicious and paranoid when something is misplaced. One day some months ago she had to take his truck to the shop for repairs. Afterwards, he couldn't find his CDs. He believed the auto repair guys stole them, and blamed my sister. When she found them beneath the seat of her car (which he'd been using that day), she called him over and asked him to help her get something. When he saw what it was, he got all "lamby," which is their word for contrite and cute. Her response to his lambiness was "Get the f*ck away from me, you asshat."

So, back to the wallet. My sister had an A/C rep in the house to get an estimate on central air, after which Alan's wallet could not be found. You can probably figure out the rest of the story. She was mofoing Alan left and right.

When I got back with groceries this morning, it was quite hot in the house. Yes, we're having a heat wave. Don't laugh. I'm no longer acclimated to 80-degree heat, even with the low (40%) humidity. It's going to be close to 90 tomorrow, so I decided I needed the fans. I had put them away in the closet. hobbitt had put them up in one of the little attic spaces we have.

So yes, I'm ashamed to admit, I was mofoing hobbitt today. And to be honest, it was only because I was on the phone with my little sister. Otherwise, I just would have been mumbling to myself, and using no swear words whatsoever.

freaky

That's what I call a day when I get up at nine, have breakfast (okay, it was a tall glass of pineapple orange banana juice and some coffee), get the pup to daycare and arrive back home with groceries before noon.

cleansing

So you already know that I cleaned today. This is how it went. The desk was scaring me. I picked up all the piles of paper (six, total) and brought them to the dining room table.

We have an open floor plan in our house. Clutter makes me insane. The dining room table - all nine feet of it - is in plain sight. It was the best way I could think of to finish the job, putting all that crap on that table.

Took me about an hour. Most of the stuff went into the waste paper basket. Some stuff was shredded. I even dusted my desk. Yes, with the riding duster.

In the midst of this my friend called to ask if I could babysit. I like spending time with Devon. He's sweet and it's down time for me. I finished up with the desk stuff and realized that our internet and cable were not working. I had twenty minutes before I needed to leave for the babysitting gig.

I decided to vacuum the house. Yes, with the riding vacuum.

This is not like me, people. Oh, I did defer the emptying of the dishwasher until tomorrow, but still. Up before the alarm? Accomplishing stuff? This shit has got to end. It's scaring me.

alarming mathematics

I discovered a horrifying mathematical equation today.

Antidepressants + no internet access = cleaning frenzy.

low rent fashion

Got invited to a dinner party tonight. Decided to clean up a bit. Wore a nice black sleeveless sweater under a teal jacket. Also Mr. and Mrs. Bill earrings. For you know, class.

Said black sweater had been in the washer with a facial tissue. No, I do not recall whether it was used or not.

I cleaned the front of the sweater. Well? That took long enough. Nobody was going to see the back.

Shut up.

quote

Before today's pour, I chatted up Kyla. I know she has her own glass blowing business, and lots of experience. I asked if she'd ever done work like Henner's before.

She looked at me like I was nuts. "Nobody does this kind of stuff!"

I'm still chuckling.

lost

I took my camera to the glass studio today. I didn't take the extra battery, of course. As soon as I powered it up, zap. Still, I got about six pictures before it died entirely.

When I got home, I couldn't find the charged battery. It wasn't in the charger. It wasn't in the crystal bowl in the kitchen. Those are the two places it "belongs." Since I rarely use the camera anyway, I have it in my head that dealing with it isn't exactly my responsibility. After about a half-hour of searching, I finally thought to look in my laptop bag. Evidently the battery has been in there since we went to San Diego. In February.

Next was the search for the USB cable. Normally it's under a pile of papers on the left side of my desk. Currently that pile of papers is about 5 inches high. I carefully and repeatedly searched there, even looking behind the desk and near the shredder, to no avail. After another twenty minutes, I looked under the pile of papers on the right side of my desk. Voila.

Anyway, here are some pictures.





The first is the base for the piece. The second is the large work that was then rolled onto the base. The last is the piece as it is being worked and kept hot. It was indeed hot. Very hot.

I'm going to stay home tomorrow and clean off my desk. It's starting to make me itch. Really.

to be more like my puppy

Sometimes it's hard to remember that Zach is just a puppy. He's not yet 8 months old. He's completely house trained. Right now he's asleep on my feet. I'm captivated. I love him as much as my dear old girl Inti. When did that happen?

Oh, right. Yesterday. When I took him to doggie daycare, I asked if I could watch as he entered the paddock with the other dogs. Dog Townsend separates dogs by their activity levels - so the younger or more playful dogs get the big shaded paddock with the hay bales and lots of wrassling space. Zach first entered the general area where there were about a dozen dogs of all ages. He greeted them with a wildly wagging tail, and then headed for the gate to the paddock.

Inside were three young dogs. They all crowded the gate as if to say, "Who's that? Let's play with him! Do you think he'll play with us? Will he? Will he?" As soon as Zach passed the gate, there was nothing to see but a sixteen-legged doggie cloud.

There was no suspicion. There was no snobbery. There was no clique. There was no "us" and "them." There was only sunshine, fresh air and a desire to play.

I want to be more like that. Yes, I want to be more like my 7.5 month-old puppy. Except for the licking my own butt part.

strange fun

When the studio is fired up at Vitroglyph, there's always time for some fun. And the annealing ovens make great pizza. I stole this image from the invitation to last Wednesday's party. So sue me! I've been invited again today for some gourmet pizzas and the studio's open house. Apparently there was a wonderful article in one of the local papers recently - with a huge spread of color pictures - about Henner's work, and the open house today. I'll pop in before picking up Zach for puppy class. I've been invited for dinner tomorrow, too. And I've been asked to once again act as Gunga Din for a couple of very big pours on Monday. I don't expect to be shot while sounding an alarm with a bugle, though. Probably because I'm slightly better-looking than Sam Jaffe, turban or no.

Never mind. I'm rambling. You can probably tell I haven't had much adult conversation for the past few days. Carry on.

I'm in trouble

Despite having to run to catch planes yesterday, hobbitt made all his connections and arrived in Lima at dawn. So did his luggage.

So I forced myself out of bed this morning after two nights of little sleep, and took Zach to doggie daycare. He'll go every day that hobbitt is gone. I can get things done and he's having a blast playing with his puppy homies - I got a chance to watch them greet him and take off on a wild wrassling adventure this morning. When I got home, I decided to start watering the plants out front, which were looking a little sad.

I couldn't find the sprinkler. I looked everywhere I thought I had left it. And here's the trouble I'm in. Stuff is probably where it belongs, but I don't know where stuff belongs because I never put it there. I leave a trail of detritus in my wake, and hobbitt cleans up after me. So I'm totally screwed here.

For the record, I did eventually find the sprinkler. It was next to the laurel that I watered on the weekend. In other words, when I hooked the hose up to the soaker that's around the base of the laurel, I just dropped the sprinkler there. Now I'm going to have to figure myself out in order to get anything done for the next 12 days.

I carry your heart with me

While I watched hobbitt fly away in a Cessna 172 this morning, there were a few sweet tears and a song running through my head. Michael Hedges set the music for this e. e. cummings poem. I couldn't sing it, though. My voice was all a-quaver.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

henner's hot shop

I spent a few hours today at Vitroglyph, the glass studio in which our friend Henner creates his amazing pieces. Today's build was a cube sculpture - imagine clear glass cubes measuring approximately 4" x 4" - stacked in odd ways upon a disk base. At dinner last night he said his piece would have a "higher than average likelihood of becoming a floor piece" (meaning it would end up falling on the floor under its own weight after coming out of the glory hole at some point). The goal today was at least 40 cubes. The last attempt at a large cube piece got to, as Henner said, "between 32 and 35 cubes before it fell."

It took three hours to pour and fit 41 cubes. There were times when it barely fit into the glory hole, but that didn't stop the assistants from working with a fury I hadn't seen before. Kyla said the size and difficulty just made the work more interesting. She even stripped off her protective leathers because she became too hot while steering the punty in and out of the glory hole. Somehow it fell to me to refill the water bottles with powdered Gatorade and water. In the last 90 minutes, I made about nine liters of the stuff for Henner, his wife, the 5 assistants and the videographer. I never got close to the piece, and I was almost fainting from the heat (and dehydration - I'd volunteered my water bottle for two of the assistants).

There were about 20 guests hanging out in the studio. The mood was lighthearted and easy, in spite of the danger and discomfort. I was pissed I'd forgotten my camera.

In other news, Sears is ordering a new compressor for our fridge and it will be delivered here some day next week, after which I will call for an emergency install appointment (we have medications in the fridge. Never mind it's pet medication). So far we're ahead of the game on our fancy extended warranty. We've outspent it in repairs by about 100%. I don't know if I should be happy about that or not.

But right now it's working perfectly. Ice is being made. The gin is again at 2 degrees F. All is right with the world. And I have two more full days to spend with my beloved hobbitt before he takes off for parts unknown. Okay, well, northern Peru isn't entirely unknown parts, but I think you get the idea.

what I get for quoting marx

hobbitt was just getting ready to start work this morning when he heard ice cubes drop in the ice maker.

Our refigerator is working again. It's been really most sincerely dead since last Wednesday.

Sears is coming to repair it today.

wtf!?!?