Kyle and I just spent two weeks immersed in the amazing-ness that is the Southwest US. We went from California to Colorado to New Mexico to Arizona to Nevada before going back to California. No stops were made at any place that didn't warrant it, and through the course of the trip we went through a lot of places I haven't been since I was a little girl. It was amazing and incredible and at some point Kyle will finish posting all the pictures or I'll get tired of waiting and will put everything on Flickr.
Less about that trip, more about coming back to England. It was absolutely chucking it down when we got back. A week of rain and commuting on the Tube to work has put me solidly back into grumpy London mode, which was made even worse by the great weather and great scenery that we saw - so at odds with the normal dreary same-ness of London.
It's definitely been a struggle to not get bogged down by the awful weather these past five years in London. A woman told me today that this is the worst summer she can remember in the past 25 years. Kyle and I still run the heating in our apartment since we've gotten back, and it's mid-June, for heaven's sake. But it's summer, which means the sun doesn't start to really set until almost 10pm...and on good days, summers in London run a close second to summers in southern Orange County - southern California wins by a hair only because there are beaches.
I went out for a drink after work tonight, so I didn't emerge from underground until after 8pm. My favorite time of day at home is that wonderful late afternoon where the day has spent itself basking in the sunlight and that heat still remains - resulting in an almost-hug from the day, thanking you for appreciating the goodness of a summer afternoon. In London, these twilights can last for a couple of hours, and with the crappy weather we've been having, can sometimes result in some spectacular banks of rainclouds reflecting the last rays of the day across a faceless, grim urban sprawl that only has glimmers of architechtural splendor dotting the landscape in the 'good' parts of town. Natural beauty is a difficult thing to find in London, especially for someone who loves a good vibrant, violent sunset like you find in the desert landscape of Las Vegas.
At any rate, there were some of those magnificent billowing storm clouds out this evening, thumbing their collectives noses at the patchy sunlight London saw today. They made me smile despite their threat of more rain and slate skies, and for the first time since we got back almost two weeks ago, I didn't despise my geographic location.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that as much as I loathe having to spend so much time surrounded by homogenous gray buildings and homogenous gray people, every now and again London surprises me with a beautiful cloud bank or a wonderful new acquaintance. So my half-year resolution is to take a moment out to appreciate those flashes. I know I've been doing it all along, otherwise there's no way I'd have survived this long, but sometimes it bears mentioning in a more public format. If nothing else, it serves to remind me that London ain't half bad, even if there are greener pastures on the other side of the pond.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Sunday, March 04, 2012
New beginnings!
It's been a while.
Maybe too long, maybe not long enough.
A lot has changed, a lot hasn't, but after being told by trusted family members that London is making me bitter and angry, it seemed like a good idea to resurrect and rebrand this blog so that I might let some of that bitterness out...rather than letting it simmer just behind my eyes until I turn into one of those people on the tube like the pregnant lady who shoved me out of the way the other morning.
Plus I'm trying to finagle my way into being a journalism trainer at work, so I figured a good place to start would be to generate some blog hype for myself. Fingers crossed...
So watch this space for anything and everything that confuses me to the point of frustration, positive and negative. Like dreading calling any company that bases its customer service call centre (can you tell I've been here too long?) anywhere further north than the midlands. Be it a heavy Yorkshire or Glaswegian accent, to my American ears it turns English into something incomprehensible. My new favorite customer service tool is the webchat...typing knows no regional dialect (and anyway I have tons of practice reading those - about the only useful thing romance novels have taught me).
On a final note...through an unfortunate set of circumstances, I found myself locked out of my house this evening. So I trundled down to the local McDonald's (would've preferred KFC but the bastards don't offer mashed potatoes as a possible side), only to find that the fries aren't the same and the chicken burger was no good. Ma Rogers loves McDonald's apple pies here because apparently they deep fry them like they used to, but otherwise nothing tastes as it should. Don't even get me started on their grainy, tasteless monstrosity that has no business calling itself McDonald's soft serve ice cream.
But my diet coke was perfect. In a land of fountain sodas that either don't have enough ice or have messed up the syrup/carbonation mix, it's good to know that if I'm really truly jonesing for one, I can walk into a McDonald's and get one in a bladder-busting cup to go.
Maybe too long, maybe not long enough.
A lot has changed, a lot hasn't, but after being told by trusted family members that London is making me bitter and angry, it seemed like a good idea to resurrect and rebrand this blog so that I might let some of that bitterness out...rather than letting it simmer just behind my eyes until I turn into one of those people on the tube like the pregnant lady who shoved me out of the way the other morning.
Plus I'm trying to finagle my way into being a journalism trainer at work, so I figured a good place to start would be to generate some blog hype for myself. Fingers crossed...
So watch this space for anything and everything that confuses me to the point of frustration, positive and negative. Like dreading calling any company that bases its customer service call centre (can you tell I've been here too long?) anywhere further north than the midlands. Be it a heavy Yorkshire or Glaswegian accent, to my American ears it turns English into something incomprehensible. My new favorite customer service tool is the webchat...typing knows no regional dialect (and anyway I have tons of practice reading those - about the only useful thing romance novels have taught me).
On a final note...through an unfortunate set of circumstances, I found myself locked out of my house this evening. So I trundled down to the local McDonald's (would've preferred KFC but the bastards don't offer mashed potatoes as a possible side), only to find that the fries aren't the same and the chicken burger was no good. Ma Rogers loves McDonald's apple pies here because apparently they deep fry them like they used to, but otherwise nothing tastes as it should. Don't even get me started on their grainy, tasteless monstrosity that has no business calling itself McDonald's soft serve ice cream.
But my diet coke was perfect. In a land of fountain sodas that either don't have enough ice or have messed up the syrup/carbonation mix, it's good to know that if I'm really truly jonesing for one, I can walk into a McDonald's and get one in a bladder-busting cup to go.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
School-induced terror
Oh my goodness.
I realized a couple of days ago that I have just about two months before this is done.
I am terrified.
It's been such a chaotic, stressful few years that I'm not sure what will happen when it's over. I'm starting to feel bereft already, and I'm not even close to being finished with all the essays I need to hand in. Weird.
Granted, it's not as though I plan on re-joining the real world just yet, but it will be very very very very strange to finally have a degree after all these years (and yes, I realize that last statement could constitute counting chickens before they've hatched, but let's try to remain optimistic for my sake).
In the meantime, if you should need me between now and May 4th, I'll either be at work, holed up in the library, or in a corner somewhere crying and attempting to work out how long it'll take me to get my trucker license should this all go tits-up.
I realized a couple of days ago that I have just about two months before this is done.
I am terrified.
It's been such a chaotic, stressful few years that I'm not sure what will happen when it's over. I'm starting to feel bereft already, and I'm not even close to being finished with all the essays I need to hand in. Weird.
Granted, it's not as though I plan on re-joining the real world just yet, but it will be very very very very strange to finally have a degree after all these years (and yes, I realize that last statement could constitute counting chickens before they've hatched, but let's try to remain optimistic for my sake).
In the meantime, if you should need me between now and May 4th, I'll either be at work, holed up in the library, or in a corner somewhere crying and attempting to work out how long it'll take me to get my trucker license should this all go tits-up.
Friday, February 05, 2010
This would've been better had I written it last night....
Chuck Klosterman published a collection of essays that he claims to have written in that magic hour before you drift off to sleep when things get unimaginably and unexplainably clear.
I had one of those hours last night, but since it was around the 3AM mark, I didn't want to ruin my chances of quickly slipping off to sleep by turning on my computer to write it all down. Should've done. This probably won't come out as well as it worked itself out in my head last night.
First and foremost, apologies that this is my first post since late August of last year. It's been a busy time, filled with work and school and shenanigans that may or may not have necessitated a blog entry. So. First things first. Roll the highlight reel:
Work: Finally got a job! A sweet job! A well-paying job! Most of you know this already, but for those who don't, I'm tutoring the SATs again, this time for British kids who want to go to college in the US. It's great, and I've had some fantastic kids that made it all the more worthwhile. The only downside is that the commute for some of my clients is ridiculous, but it gives me time to focus on school reading without having too many distractions, or having to cloister myself in the library.
School: Last year. 44000 words to turn in before the end. Bit stressful. But. Have figured out what I'm going to do after I graduate (MA in history, MA in English, then PhD...at least two of the three to happen at Goldsmiths). So. Another five years in the UK, most likely all of which will be spent in London. Unless I get some hare-brained scheme together and decide to get a Fulbright Scholarship to attend Oxford. We'll see. Optimism is running high at the moment, though I have no idea why, and I'm ready to finish this damn thing already. Just in time for my 10-year high school reunion. Goodness.
Shenanigans: There are more of these than there should be, I think, and far too many to list. Highlights have been my Mexican birthday, the eviction party, tequila sandwich, epic Thanksgiving, New Year's, Monopoly night, all the nights involving 2 for 5 wine, and my introduction to the Bunker Club (which I don't remember most of). There have been tons of good times just sitting in the kitchen with the housemates, blathering on about nonsense or being chastised for my staunch dislike of Michael Moore. And most importantly: Stella. Life definitely seems more normal with a cat in my life. Even if she does like Milroy more than she likes me. All in all, it's been good times since I last wrote.
End highlight reel. Onto recent thoughts.
So. Last night I got to thinking about the reasons I moved over here in the first place, and whether or not it worked like it was meant to. Mainly, I'd gotten into a really bad rut. I didn't really care about my job, didn't really have much of a friend base left, and generally just wasn't behaving myself. And I had this overwhelming sense that I hadn't really done anything worthwhile yet. Or traveled as much as I would've liked. But mainly, I needed out of California. So I left.
Sonja was a disaster. I think we're all up to speed on that one. If not, read back through this blog. But. Had I not gone to work for her, I wouldn't be four months away from finally getting a degree, nor would I have such a fantastic friend base, nor would I have a plan stretching further than next week. Goodness. So some things have changed. Big ones, but have I gotten any better? Have I gotten rid of the behavior patterns that put me in the rut in California in the first place, or am I destined to find myself in a similar rut in London?
(I feel the need to point out here that most of my late-night insomniac thinking is extremely self-centered. I tend to be able to work out other people a lot quicker than I can work out my own stuff, and it's a good way to occupy one's time when you can't sleep)
So I thought about it for a while (and here's where I'm going to fail to express my thoughts in as clear a manner as they manifested themselves last night), and came to the conclusion that while a lot of the behavior is still there, there are some facets of my life here that will make creating a rut difficult. I have too many external consciences, and although I may whine about them nagging me (only occasionally), it's good to know that I've got people around that call me on my bullshit. Whether I want them to or not. Knowing full well that I may disregard what they've said and do things my way regardless. Love you guys for it. You should know who you are.
Maybe this is where the optimism comes from. It's costing me too much to stay here to really risk screwing it up. So that, coupled with knowing there are people who will remind me of that should I somehow forget about it, reinforces my opinion that this is all going to turn out well. Despite the horrific wrecks of my first and second years. Bueno.
....there was more last night, but I can't remember it.
New business: Conway and I are almost done with our first week of Phase I on the South Beach Diet. I have never felt so decadent in my life. And certainly never about meals that are really, truly, 100% good-for-me. Although I did lapse the other night and eat an entire jar of peanut butter, but that couldn't be helped. We also started a new gym regime, but my luck being what it is, I screwed my legs up the first day. They're better now, and I should be able to start going back next week. Although I won't be going back to their 7:45am spin class. I'm not doing this to my quads ever ever ever again. Especially in a land where I can't barge into the emergency room and demand muscle relaxers. I can go to A&E, but I've been told the A&E staff won't take kindly to me deciding my course of treatment. Bummer.
Anyway, Conway is putting on a night tonight at the union, so I've got to go make myself purdy and steezy and SFG. Ha.
I had one of those hours last night, but since it was around the 3AM mark, I didn't want to ruin my chances of quickly slipping off to sleep by turning on my computer to write it all down. Should've done. This probably won't come out as well as it worked itself out in my head last night.
First and foremost, apologies that this is my first post since late August of last year. It's been a busy time, filled with work and school and shenanigans that may or may not have necessitated a blog entry. So. First things first. Roll the highlight reel:
Work: Finally got a job! A sweet job! A well-paying job! Most of you know this already, but for those who don't, I'm tutoring the SATs again, this time for British kids who want to go to college in the US. It's great, and I've had some fantastic kids that made it all the more worthwhile. The only downside is that the commute for some of my clients is ridiculous, but it gives me time to focus on school reading without having too many distractions, or having to cloister myself in the library.
School: Last year. 44000 words to turn in before the end. Bit stressful. But. Have figured out what I'm going to do after I graduate (MA in history, MA in English, then PhD...at least two of the three to happen at Goldsmiths). So. Another five years in the UK, most likely all of which will be spent in London. Unless I get some hare-brained scheme together and decide to get a Fulbright Scholarship to attend Oxford. We'll see. Optimism is running high at the moment, though I have no idea why, and I'm ready to finish this damn thing already. Just in time for my 10-year high school reunion. Goodness.
Shenanigans: There are more of these than there should be, I think, and far too many to list. Highlights have been my Mexican birthday, the eviction party, tequila sandwich, epic Thanksgiving, New Year's, Monopoly night, all the nights involving 2 for 5 wine, and my introduction to the Bunker Club (which I don't remember most of). There have been tons of good times just sitting in the kitchen with the housemates, blathering on about nonsense or being chastised for my staunch dislike of Michael Moore. And most importantly: Stella. Life definitely seems more normal with a cat in my life. Even if she does like Milroy more than she likes me. All in all, it's been good times since I last wrote.
End highlight reel. Onto recent thoughts.
So. Last night I got to thinking about the reasons I moved over here in the first place, and whether or not it worked like it was meant to. Mainly, I'd gotten into a really bad rut. I didn't really care about my job, didn't really have much of a friend base left, and generally just wasn't behaving myself. And I had this overwhelming sense that I hadn't really done anything worthwhile yet. Or traveled as much as I would've liked. But mainly, I needed out of California. So I left.
Sonja was a disaster. I think we're all up to speed on that one. If not, read back through this blog. But. Had I not gone to work for her, I wouldn't be four months away from finally getting a degree, nor would I have such a fantastic friend base, nor would I have a plan stretching further than next week. Goodness. So some things have changed. Big ones, but have I gotten any better? Have I gotten rid of the behavior patterns that put me in the rut in California in the first place, or am I destined to find myself in a similar rut in London?
(I feel the need to point out here that most of my late-night insomniac thinking is extremely self-centered. I tend to be able to work out other people a lot quicker than I can work out my own stuff, and it's a good way to occupy one's time when you can't sleep)
So I thought about it for a while (and here's where I'm going to fail to express my thoughts in as clear a manner as they manifested themselves last night), and came to the conclusion that while a lot of the behavior is still there, there are some facets of my life here that will make creating a rut difficult. I have too many external consciences, and although I may whine about them nagging me (only occasionally), it's good to know that I've got people around that call me on my bullshit. Whether I want them to or not. Knowing full well that I may disregard what they've said and do things my way regardless. Love you guys for it. You should know who you are.
Maybe this is where the optimism comes from. It's costing me too much to stay here to really risk screwing it up. So that, coupled with knowing there are people who will remind me of that should I somehow forget about it, reinforces my opinion that this is all going to turn out well. Despite the horrific wrecks of my first and second years. Bueno.
....there was more last night, but I can't remember it.
New business: Conway and I are almost done with our first week of Phase I on the South Beach Diet. I have never felt so decadent in my life. And certainly never about meals that are really, truly, 100% good-for-me. Although I did lapse the other night and eat an entire jar of peanut butter, but that couldn't be helped. We also started a new gym regime, but my luck being what it is, I screwed my legs up the first day. They're better now, and I should be able to start going back next week. Although I won't be going back to their 7:45am spin class. I'm not doing this to my quads ever ever ever again. Especially in a land where I can't barge into the emergency room and demand muscle relaxers. I can go to A&E, but I've been told the A&E staff won't take kindly to me deciding my course of treatment. Bummer.
Anyway, Conway is putting on a night tonight at the union, so I've got to go make myself purdy and steezy and SFG. Ha.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Say what you will...
...but I am a Green Day fan. Have been for years now.
And the end of my summer concert series came about tonight when my mom and I headed down to SDSU to see Green Day at what used to be the Cox Arena.
You can make all the jokes you want at my expense, but I had a FANTASTIC time. Just as I did the last time I went to see them (which, coincidentally, was at the same venue), for the second run of their American Idiot tour.
Billie Joe Armstrong makes me want to break all my short man rules.
I've said it before, and I'll probably say it many more times again, but I am a complete sucker for musicians. Especially when they have more stage presence that should be legal. Other performers that have completely won me over after seeing them perform live: Steven Tyler, Steve Miller, Justin Timberlake, Roger Daltrey, Donnie Wahlberg, and Huey Lewis. Thankfully I have enough common sense to avoid dating musicians as they are a peculiar breed, especially lead singers.
Anyway. The concert tonight. Franz Ferdinand opened, but Ma and I somehow managed to miss their set due to traffic, waiting to buy t-shirts, and necessary beer purchasing. I'm a little sad about that.
Our seats were amazing, despite not being down on the floor level. Had they opened up the floor level like they did the last time I saw them, I would've probably stayed put, our seats were that good.
Billie Joe played the harmonica.
He also brought lots of folks up onstage (including this adorable five-year-old scene-stealing boy named Thomas) to help sing along or get the crowd going.
Again. Would break all of my short man rules for Billie Joe, were he not married.
I couldn't tell you the set list, and I'm not familiar at all with their new CD, but the old hits they played made me smile and hop around, and I was sweaty and hoarse and exhausted by the end of their two-hour set.
Good times.
I'm sure there's more I want to write, but I am so completely tired right now I can't pull it all together.
After the concert Mom and I headed to the Gaslamp Quarter since she'd never been there, and we had a couple of pints at the Shout piano bar. I got called out by one of the piano players for not standing with everyone else during their rendition of "Kung Fu Fighting".
Stupid me forgot to use the facilities before we left, which resulted in a madcap tour of La Jolla trying to find public bathrooms and/or food. We wound up at a Denny's in Miramar where I proceeded to ecstatically cheat on my diet by demolishing a lumberjack slam. There will be pictures as soon as we get them developed.
The drive home was uneventful and boring, and now I am more than ready to completely pass out and sleep until tomorrow afternoon, at which time I will consider typing more.
Ssssssshhhhhh......time for sleep..........
And the end of my summer concert series came about tonight when my mom and I headed down to SDSU to see Green Day at what used to be the Cox Arena.
You can make all the jokes you want at my expense, but I had a FANTASTIC time. Just as I did the last time I went to see them (which, coincidentally, was at the same venue), for the second run of their American Idiot tour.
Billie Joe Armstrong makes me want to break all my short man rules.
I've said it before, and I'll probably say it many more times again, but I am a complete sucker for musicians. Especially when they have more stage presence that should be legal. Other performers that have completely won me over after seeing them perform live: Steven Tyler, Steve Miller, Justin Timberlake, Roger Daltrey, Donnie Wahlberg, and Huey Lewis. Thankfully I have enough common sense to avoid dating musicians as they are a peculiar breed, especially lead singers.
Anyway. The concert tonight. Franz Ferdinand opened, but Ma and I somehow managed to miss their set due to traffic, waiting to buy t-shirts, and necessary beer purchasing. I'm a little sad about that.
Our seats were amazing, despite not being down on the floor level. Had they opened up the floor level like they did the last time I saw them, I would've probably stayed put, our seats were that good.
Billie Joe played the harmonica.
He also brought lots of folks up onstage (including this adorable five-year-old scene-stealing boy named Thomas) to help sing along or get the crowd going.
Again. Would break all of my short man rules for Billie Joe, were he not married.
I couldn't tell you the set list, and I'm not familiar at all with their new CD, but the old hits they played made me smile and hop around, and I was sweaty and hoarse and exhausted by the end of their two-hour set.
Good times.
I'm sure there's more I want to write, but I am so completely tired right now I can't pull it all together.
After the concert Mom and I headed to the Gaslamp Quarter since she'd never been there, and we had a couple of pints at the Shout piano bar. I got called out by one of the piano players for not standing with everyone else during their rendition of "Kung Fu Fighting".
Stupid me forgot to use the facilities before we left, which resulted in a madcap tour of La Jolla trying to find public bathrooms and/or food. We wound up at a Denny's in Miramar where I proceeded to ecstatically cheat on my diet by demolishing a lumberjack slam. There will be pictures as soon as we get them developed.
The drive home was uneventful and boring, and now I am more than ready to completely pass out and sleep until tomorrow afternoon, at which time I will consider typing more.
Ssssssshhhhhh......time for sleep..........
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I've got a new great idea...
I'm going to give it all up and become a plumber. Vivian is going to be my assistant. Mainly she's going to plonk down close to whatever I'm working on and try to steal drill bits and screws and other metal objects from me while I'm not looking, then give me innocent eyes when I call her on it.
I'll have to get her a tool belt.
Spent a good deal of time today attempting to replace the toilet in the master bathroom so my dad doesn't have to do it when he gets back from Kansas. And as horrific as I thought the task was going to be....turned out most of those fears were unfounded. Although the wax seal stuff is just strange.
During the process of removing the old toilet, it became pretty clear to Shibbs and I just how cheaply our house was built. Needless to say, we hit a couple of snags, which is why we're only halfway through the job.
First off: the metal flange the toilet bolts onto is completely corroded and useless. Apparently this had caused enough of a problem for someone (presumably Dad) to go in and rig a quick cheap fix. So Shibbs and I traipse off to the Home Depot (again) to see if we can get another one.
Ahhhhhhhh. Home Depot. I want to work there. I want to be knowledgeable about plumbing or lumber or gardening enough that I can help lost-looking customers and swap job site horror stories with construction workers dropping in to pick up a part. I could wander the aisles in there for hours, and I have no idea why since I have no sort of DIY knowledge to speak of and very rarely manage to call things by their proper names. Case in point: Shibbs and I today on our search for the flange. Didn't know that was the name until I repeated "You know, the metal circle thingie that the toilet bolts onto around the drainage pipe whatsit on the floor," enough times for the guy to know what I was talking about. There were also lots of descriptive hand gestures on my part. I think the picture of it that we brought with us helped.
I had been hoping that the fella who Mom and I struck up a rapport with when we were buying the toilet (and then helped me and Shibbs get the right part for the bathtub) would be working since he's super-friendly and helpful without making me feel like he's dumbing it down for a silly girl who doesn't know her way around a tool box. Couldn't find him in the plumbing section, and the old guy who deciphered "thingie" and "whatsit" and hand gestures (with a help from a picture on digital camera) quickly foisted us off on this other guy who had somehow gotten involved with our toilet-buying escapades the previous week.
I was not happy with this foisting off because this guy is the other (and more common) type of male Home Depot employee. The one that assumes I don't know anything about anything. And while I freely admit that I don't know what I'm doing to the point of having to either follow printed instructions or just sort of figure it out when it comes to home repair, that does not mean I won't get pissy if you are real quick to assume that's the case. Especially since you're working in customer service. AND THEN, just to make things worse, oh pretty please insinuate that I'm not strong enough to lift something and that somebody will take it to my car.
Buddy. The toilet only weighs 100 pounds. There were two of us, and me and Mom have both done our fair share of baggage-slinging at the airport. Oh, and we're taking the initiative to replace a toilet all by our weak, wilting, helpless selves.
Obviously this guy hit a nerve when he interfered on toilet-buying day, so the prospect of relying on this guy to help us in our flange foray had me a little concerned...
Sure enough. He came down from on almighty plumbing high to help us poor, helpless, silly, clueless females who were obviously messing around with man's work. Once on the proper aisle, my eyes quickly caught on the part we needed, only to be told that replacing the flange is a really tough job and you have to be very very very careful you don't damage the main pipe because then you have to take out the floor and re-do everything. You see...the flange thingie is attached to a bit of PVC that you then cement into the drainage pipe. To replace that involves lots of careful banging and hacksawing.
So he presented the quick and easy fix, which more or less amounts to the metal ring part of the flange that you then screw down over the top of the existing flange. But when I say the existing flange is corroded.... I feel like "corroded" doesn't properly convey the mess of rusted out metal mixed with wax sealant that appeared once we took the old toilet out. So I was a bit nervous that, like the quick fix my dad tried, this quick fix would fail and I'd have to take the toilet out again and go back and replace the flange after all.
Thankfully Shelby was with me, otherwise I would've tried to replace the flange and probably ruined everything, all because of my prickly sense of capability. After a couple of weighty exchanges of eye contact, we both agreed to forgo the risk of completely screwing everything up and thus incurring the mighty wrath of Billiam so close to the ends of our respective summers. Got the fake flange, got some caulk, traipsed home.
Vivian, for some reason, likes to sit and watch me fix plumbing problems. She kept me company on Friday when I fixed the bathtub, and she sat with us today while we futzed about with the toilet. It would be cuter if I didn't have to keep an eye out for her stealing drill bits or any other spare metal or really anything available to chew on.
Anyway, fake flange in hand, Shibbs and I finish scraping off all the old wax in order to install the fix. Except (hooray for cheap construction) we can't get the fake flange to fit over the real flange because the lazy jackasses who laid the tile in that bathroom did a really imprecise job of cutting the tiles to fit around the drain pipe and flange. So I got to attempt to chip off the overhange with a scraper and a hammer. You've got to be kidding me.
Finally manage to get the tile trimmed and the fake flange on top. Now to anchor the thing into the subfloor...
Except, of course, I only have two screws and one of them, for some god-unknown reason, isn't catching the threads and frickin' screwing down into the subfloor.
WHY ME?!
This means another trip to Home Depot, and at this point Shelby and I opt to put the project on hold until tomorrow as we're meant to go to Grandma's house for dinner and it's already 3:30.
So it's on hold. Stopped by the Home Depot by Grandma's house this time because I feel like I've been seen in mine too often this past week, and mostly in my hippie dress (I swear I haven't worn anything besides that dress out in public since I bought it. It is that comfortable). But the hippie dress is golden at Home Depot. I get help from nice people, not assholes. The guy at Grandma's Home Depot did all the work and found me replacement screws, saving me time spent pawing through the thousands of different types of screws they sell.
So as soon as I wake up...going to finish the job. I hope. And, as a bonus nice thing for Dad, I'm going to fix the shower too, since I am now familiar with the pressure arm hoozits on bathtub faucets. He's using a wrench to work the thing right now. Classy.
Plus I have to finish fine-tuning the replacement pressure thingie in my bathroom. And clean the house. I should probably go to bed.
Diet is still going strong. Despite MASSIVE TEMPTATION in the form of baked goods tonight at Grandma's house. Only a week left, then I get to eat fruit again!
I'll have to get her a tool belt.
Spent a good deal of time today attempting to replace the toilet in the master bathroom so my dad doesn't have to do it when he gets back from Kansas. And as horrific as I thought the task was going to be....turned out most of those fears were unfounded. Although the wax seal stuff is just strange.
During the process of removing the old toilet, it became pretty clear to Shibbs and I just how cheaply our house was built. Needless to say, we hit a couple of snags, which is why we're only halfway through the job.
First off: the metal flange the toilet bolts onto is completely corroded and useless. Apparently this had caused enough of a problem for someone (presumably Dad) to go in and rig a quick cheap fix. So Shibbs and I traipse off to the Home Depot (again) to see if we can get another one.
Ahhhhhhhh. Home Depot. I want to work there. I want to be knowledgeable about plumbing or lumber or gardening enough that I can help lost-looking customers and swap job site horror stories with construction workers dropping in to pick up a part. I could wander the aisles in there for hours, and I have no idea why since I have no sort of DIY knowledge to speak of and very rarely manage to call things by their proper names. Case in point: Shibbs and I today on our search for the flange. Didn't know that was the name until I repeated "You know, the metal circle thingie that the toilet bolts onto around the drainage pipe whatsit on the floor," enough times for the guy to know what I was talking about. There were also lots of descriptive hand gestures on my part. I think the picture of it that we brought with us helped.
I had been hoping that the fella who Mom and I struck up a rapport with when we were buying the toilet (and then helped me and Shibbs get the right part for the bathtub) would be working since he's super-friendly and helpful without making me feel like he's dumbing it down for a silly girl who doesn't know her way around a tool box. Couldn't find him in the plumbing section, and the old guy who deciphered "thingie" and "whatsit" and hand gestures (with a help from a picture on digital camera) quickly foisted us off on this other guy who had somehow gotten involved with our toilet-buying escapades the previous week.
I was not happy with this foisting off because this guy is the other (and more common) type of male Home Depot employee. The one that assumes I don't know anything about anything. And while I freely admit that I don't know what I'm doing to the point of having to either follow printed instructions or just sort of figure it out when it comes to home repair, that does not mean I won't get pissy if you are real quick to assume that's the case. Especially since you're working in customer service. AND THEN, just to make things worse, oh pretty please insinuate that I'm not strong enough to lift something and that somebody will take it to my car.
Buddy. The toilet only weighs 100 pounds. There were two of us, and me and Mom have both done our fair share of baggage-slinging at the airport. Oh, and we're taking the initiative to replace a toilet all by our weak, wilting, helpless selves.
Obviously this guy hit a nerve when he interfered on toilet-buying day, so the prospect of relying on this guy to help us in our flange foray had me a little concerned...
Sure enough. He came down from on almighty plumbing high to help us poor, helpless, silly, clueless females who were obviously messing around with man's work. Once on the proper aisle, my eyes quickly caught on the part we needed, only to be told that replacing the flange is a really tough job and you have to be very very very careful you don't damage the main pipe because then you have to take out the floor and re-do everything. You see...the flange thingie is attached to a bit of PVC that you then cement into the drainage pipe. To replace that involves lots of careful banging and hacksawing.
So he presented the quick and easy fix, which more or less amounts to the metal ring part of the flange that you then screw down over the top of the existing flange. But when I say the existing flange is corroded.... I feel like "corroded" doesn't properly convey the mess of rusted out metal mixed with wax sealant that appeared once we took the old toilet out. So I was a bit nervous that, like the quick fix my dad tried, this quick fix would fail and I'd have to take the toilet out again and go back and replace the flange after all.
Thankfully Shelby was with me, otherwise I would've tried to replace the flange and probably ruined everything, all because of my prickly sense of capability. After a couple of weighty exchanges of eye contact, we both agreed to forgo the risk of completely screwing everything up and thus incurring the mighty wrath of Billiam so close to the ends of our respective summers. Got the fake flange, got some caulk, traipsed home.
Vivian, for some reason, likes to sit and watch me fix plumbing problems. She kept me company on Friday when I fixed the bathtub, and she sat with us today while we futzed about with the toilet. It would be cuter if I didn't have to keep an eye out for her stealing drill bits or any other spare metal or really anything available to chew on.
Anyway, fake flange in hand, Shibbs and I finish scraping off all the old wax in order to install the fix. Except (hooray for cheap construction) we can't get the fake flange to fit over the real flange because the lazy jackasses who laid the tile in that bathroom did a really imprecise job of cutting the tiles to fit around the drain pipe and flange. So I got to attempt to chip off the overhange with a scraper and a hammer. You've got to be kidding me.
Finally manage to get the tile trimmed and the fake flange on top. Now to anchor the thing into the subfloor...
Except, of course, I only have two screws and one of them, for some god-unknown reason, isn't catching the threads and frickin' screwing down into the subfloor.
WHY ME?!
This means another trip to Home Depot, and at this point Shelby and I opt to put the project on hold until tomorrow as we're meant to go to Grandma's house for dinner and it's already 3:30.
So it's on hold. Stopped by the Home Depot by Grandma's house this time because I feel like I've been seen in mine too often this past week, and mostly in my hippie dress (I swear I haven't worn anything besides that dress out in public since I bought it. It is that comfortable). But the hippie dress is golden at Home Depot. I get help from nice people, not assholes. The guy at Grandma's Home Depot did all the work and found me replacement screws, saving me time spent pawing through the thousands of different types of screws they sell.
So as soon as I wake up...going to finish the job. I hope. And, as a bonus nice thing for Dad, I'm going to fix the shower too, since I am now familiar with the pressure arm hoozits on bathtub faucets. He's using a wrench to work the thing right now. Classy.
Plus I have to finish fine-tuning the replacement pressure thingie in my bathroom. And clean the house. I should probably go to bed.
Diet is still going strong. Despite MASSIVE TEMPTATION in the form of baked goods tonight at Grandma's house. Only a week left, then I get to eat fruit again!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
First week: DONE
Despite cravings for sandwiches and chocolate, I have made it through the first week of this infernal diet. My outlook for the second week is good because I went to the grocery store today and bought some damn fine hummus.
It's the little things really.
I've also decided I'm going to start eating the dinner meal for lunch and vice versa because I find myself not all that hungry at night, plus...I don't eat dinner until late, and I feel bad eating a big meal at 9 o'clock at night. Today was the trial run of this and I feel like I've made the right choice. A bigger lunch makes me less snack-y right before bed. Not sure how that works.
Today I got into a fight with the faucet on my bathtub. I won. The cheap fixture that probably hasn't been replaced since my parents bought the house crapped out and I replaced it. WD-40 is my new best friend, because there's no way in hell I would've been able to take out the old part without it. Tomorrow Shelby and I are going to replace a toilet. As unhappy as I may be with the prospect of how foul this job could turn out to be, I'm excited to get to work with hands and do some home maintenance. I'm tempted to buy a tool belt (that I'd never use).
Seems like it's been a few days of needing physical strength. Changed the oil on my car the day before yesterday and since that hasn't been done in a year or more due to my car not being on the running side of things, it was particularly difficult to remove the plug on the oil pan, and the filter was so glued on I had to break out an awl and drive it into the filter so I could use it to wrench the silly thing off. Felt good getting my hands dirty, even if I did do the whole thing wearing my new hippie dress. And without chipping my newly-manicured nails.
I got the first book for my dissertation research today too. Exciting stuff. It's massive and reminiscent of a textbook, but seeing as how it's probably going to be the backbone of my research, I am geekily thrilled to dive into it. Unfortunately, before I can do that I have to write the two portfolios that I have to hand in at the end of the month.
I'm going to a Green Day concert this week. I think. With my mom. Cracks me up though... wanted nothing more than to go to one of their shows when I was a teenager and really into pop punk, and now I listen to my old pop punk stuff for a bit of nostalgia and I'm going to a Green Day concert with my mom (who claims to have always been a fan.... though to be fair she's the one that bought Dookie for me, completely unasked, when I was still really into grunge). I've seen them once before, on the second round of their American Idiot tour, and I remember being annoyed at how young the audience was, since it appeared that most of them had been in kindergarten when Dookie was released.
Anyway. I'm excited to go to what will be the last event of what has turned out to be a concert summer. I've seen more this year than any year previous, and they've all been in the course of less than two months. Wacky. And none of the three are new acts. New Kids and Huey Lewis were from my childhood, and Green Day is from my adolescence. Bit of a trip, really.
I couldn't sleep last night so I watched movies. Starting with 17 Again. And lord help me, but Zac Efron is all kinds of crazy hot. Man. I hope he never does anything besides cheesy stuff meant to pack girls into theaters, because if it turns out he can actually act as well. Lordy. Don't know if I could handle having an acting crush on somebody who is also that blisteringly good-looking. Even if he does have narrow shoulders.
But I did enjoy 17 Again. Mainly because Lt. Dangle plays a rich nerd who has a speeder bed and several toy lightsabers. God knows I'm a sucker for Star Wars nerd jokes. And there were Lord of the Rings jokes too. Magnificent.
Then I had to watch Hairspray. Yes. There was a theme developing with my movie choices. For the most part, I did not like Hairspray. The original was okay, but turning it into a musical completely killed it for me. And what the hell? Who decided to turn a John Waters movie into a musical? Although, should they ever decide to do the same for Pecker, I'm there.
But I will say I fell a little in love with James Marsden as Corny Collins. He nailed that role with that fantastic smarmy grin of his. Heart.
Finally, I watched Junebug, which has been sitting on my computer for a while, just hadn't gotten around to watching it. Downloaded it because Amy Adams is in it, and as much as I want to her play something besides a wide-eyed innocent, I can't help but admit she's real damn good at it. And a southern accent suits her just fine. Didn't really like it though due to a weird sex scene, an even weirder masturbation scene, a racist artist who liked painting comical penises on the men in his artwork, and the fact that Natasha from Bridget Jones was the main character. Blech.
Ho-hum. Peanut attacked and killed my fan, so it's hot in my room right now. I can't decide whether to start my R-Patts mini-filmfest or play Total War. Probably R-Patts. Need to see whether or not he can actually act. And I want to see what all the fuss was about with him in that Dali movie.
It's the little things really.
I've also decided I'm going to start eating the dinner meal for lunch and vice versa because I find myself not all that hungry at night, plus...I don't eat dinner until late, and I feel bad eating a big meal at 9 o'clock at night. Today was the trial run of this and I feel like I've made the right choice. A bigger lunch makes me less snack-y right before bed. Not sure how that works.
Today I got into a fight with the faucet on my bathtub. I won. The cheap fixture that probably hasn't been replaced since my parents bought the house crapped out and I replaced it. WD-40 is my new best friend, because there's no way in hell I would've been able to take out the old part without it. Tomorrow Shelby and I are going to replace a toilet. As unhappy as I may be with the prospect of how foul this job could turn out to be, I'm excited to get to work with hands and do some home maintenance. I'm tempted to buy a tool belt (that I'd never use).
Seems like it's been a few days of needing physical strength. Changed the oil on my car the day before yesterday and since that hasn't been done in a year or more due to my car not being on the running side of things, it was particularly difficult to remove the plug on the oil pan, and the filter was so glued on I had to break out an awl and drive it into the filter so I could use it to wrench the silly thing off. Felt good getting my hands dirty, even if I did do the whole thing wearing my new hippie dress. And without chipping my newly-manicured nails.
I got the first book for my dissertation research today too. Exciting stuff. It's massive and reminiscent of a textbook, but seeing as how it's probably going to be the backbone of my research, I am geekily thrilled to dive into it. Unfortunately, before I can do that I have to write the two portfolios that I have to hand in at the end of the month.
I'm going to a Green Day concert this week. I think. With my mom. Cracks me up though... wanted nothing more than to go to one of their shows when I was a teenager and really into pop punk, and now I listen to my old pop punk stuff for a bit of nostalgia and I'm going to a Green Day concert with my mom (who claims to have always been a fan.... though to be fair she's the one that bought Dookie for me, completely unasked, when I was still really into grunge). I've seen them once before, on the second round of their American Idiot tour, and I remember being annoyed at how young the audience was, since it appeared that most of them had been in kindergarten when Dookie was released.
Anyway. I'm excited to go to what will be the last event of what has turned out to be a concert summer. I've seen more this year than any year previous, and they've all been in the course of less than two months. Wacky. And none of the three are new acts. New Kids and Huey Lewis were from my childhood, and Green Day is from my adolescence. Bit of a trip, really.
I couldn't sleep last night so I watched movies. Starting with 17 Again. And lord help me, but Zac Efron is all kinds of crazy hot. Man. I hope he never does anything besides cheesy stuff meant to pack girls into theaters, because if it turns out he can actually act as well. Lordy. Don't know if I could handle having an acting crush on somebody who is also that blisteringly good-looking. Even if he does have narrow shoulders.
But I did enjoy 17 Again. Mainly because Lt. Dangle plays a rich nerd who has a speeder bed and several toy lightsabers. God knows I'm a sucker for Star Wars nerd jokes. And there were Lord of the Rings jokes too. Magnificent.
Then I had to watch Hairspray. Yes. There was a theme developing with my movie choices. For the most part, I did not like Hairspray. The original was okay, but turning it into a musical completely killed it for me. And what the hell? Who decided to turn a John Waters movie into a musical? Although, should they ever decide to do the same for Pecker, I'm there.
But I will say I fell a little in love with James Marsden as Corny Collins. He nailed that role with that fantastic smarmy grin of his. Heart.
Finally, I watched Junebug, which has been sitting on my computer for a while, just hadn't gotten around to watching it. Downloaded it because Amy Adams is in it, and as much as I want to her play something besides a wide-eyed innocent, I can't help but admit she's real damn good at it. And a southern accent suits her just fine. Didn't really like it though due to a weird sex scene, an even weirder masturbation scene, a racist artist who liked painting comical penises on the men in his artwork, and the fact that Natasha from Bridget Jones was the main character. Blech.
Ho-hum. Peanut attacked and killed my fan, so it's hot in my room right now. I can't decide whether to start my R-Patts mini-filmfest or play Total War. Probably R-Patts. Need to see whether or not he can actually act. And I want to see what all the fuss was about with him in that Dali movie.
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