Hi from Buffalo where it’s freezing cold…Jessie has a choice phrase for this kind of cold, but I won’t share it here in case you are a) less than 13 years old or b) not into our kind of humor.
Anyway, so far on this trip:
Snowflakes.
A slew of 20 year old Cutco knife salesmen sitting behind me on the plane who quickly converted a Boeing 737 into a frat house (without the use of alcohol).
Fish and chips.
Scrabble.
And Tessa.
This afternoon I was sitting on the breezeway when the maintenance man, we’ll call him Bobby, came by. My across-the-hall neighbor apparently had a package, so he was delivering it. Here’s the scene that unfolded:
Bobby: (Knocks) Maintenance, you have a package. (Opens the door to the apartment, looks sort of surprised and shakes his head) Oookkkaayyy, now that’s something you don’t see everyday. Well, I’ve never seen anything like it. (Closes the door, looks upset)
Me: (Looks surprised, thinks there might be a dead body across the hall)
Bobby: Come here, take a look (re-opens the door – probably not legal, but whatever).
Me: (Loud laugh) What the!?
Bobby: Yeah, strange, huh? (Closes the door, walks away)
My neighbor, who seems very quiet and shy, had filled her ENTIRE living room (and they are big living rooms) with boxed and wrapped items — mac and cheese, cereal, tampons, toilet paper, soup, Cup O Noodles. Kind of like this, but more nicely arranged and with twice as many things:
They were organized by item type and in a semicircular pyramid, clearly on display for something…but what?
That is the question.
About ten minutes later she came home and it took all the self restraint I had to not say, “Why on earth do you have all that stuff in your living room?”
Today I’ve been at my job for exactly six months. That’s not a long time. But, then again, it’s an eternity.
I’ve got friends who have gone from first dates to engagement rings in six months. Had I gotten pregnant on day one and were my imaginary baby to be born today there’s a good chance it would be a-okay (yes, I know I’ve used that analogy before). I could have written The Grapes of Wrath. Or Because of Winn-Dixie. Or the Treaty of Versailles.
Instead of recording famine, inspiring middle school children or stopping a war, what have I accomplished? Honestly, almost nothing, except for meeting my goal of staying at said job for six months. In six months as an editor I haven’t edited (or even seen) one thing that anyone outside of our strange little attic dwelling bubble has had the obligation opportunity to read. There’s something disheartening about that. When I taught I used to get the same feeling sometimes when kids struggled and struggled to figure out how to read any words other than “I” “like” “the” and “pizza”. The thing about first graders though is that a month later (or two or three) they get it.
There’s not much chance of anyone ‘getting it’ where I am now.
Obviously I’m glad to have a job–and I know that I could easily be one of however-many million people going to bed tonight without any idea of where they will get their next paycheck (what is 9.8% of the United States anyway?). And I’m happy and grateful for that. I’m also realizing that though I thought I’d be okay doing mind-numbing work for awhile, it turns out that sucks out more of my person than I’d thought. I feel like my (already weak) ambitious side has been tazered repeatedly.
On that note, I’m freely applying for jobs again. And, this just in, North Carolina isn’t in the top four most unemployed states anymore – well done and thank you California for replacing us.
Oh, poor California, but that’s another post.
There’s been lots of trash talking in the last 48 hours. At job #1 we sit at this long picnic table thing for lunch. Phillies fans on one side, Yankees fans on the other. Half the Phillies side is full of people who just hate the Yankees. I get that. They aren’t my favorite either.
At job #2 – a restaurant – the owner is from New York and he almost yelled at customers the other night who cheered when the Yankees lost–then he remembered that’s bad for business. He’s gonna watch the games at home.
I wanted the Dodgers to win for a minute just because of this guy, but family loyalty won out (my Dad’s one of these) and I’m cheering the Phillies again. And for a team that really stinks sometimes, two years in a row is quite a feat.
On a somewhat different, but related, note…I overheard quite a father-son argument the other day about whether the Phillies uniforms are red or maroon. Turns out they’ve been both, but are more red these days (as the son claimed), but were maroon in the 70s-1991 (when the dad probably remembered them more vividly). I found this interaction pretty amusing, and it was yet another example of how I think family fueds are more easily solved (and therefore world peace more attainable) thanks to Google.
Then:
Now:
Ouch.
The beach…
Kate. Mom. Pyramid.
Another pyramid…this one has a whole calendar built into the number of steps and levels, but I’ll be darned if I can remember how it all worked.
Swimming hole from the top.
And the bottom.
When I arrived home late Saturday night I received quite a welcome – frigid temperatures and an apartment infested with fleas.
Fleas are gross and here’s why:
They jump
They are tiny and even when you do catch one you’re more likely to stab yourself with a fingernail than actually kill the darn thing
And of course, they bite, which they did relentlessly as soon as I walked in the door. Since Oscar was at the kennel the little buggers had been hungry, I assumed, before realizing that Oscar didn’t seem to have fleas before I left. A quandary, but one less important than the fact that I suddenly had fifteen red itchy welts on my ankles.
My apartment has a gas stove and heat pump, so we aren’t allowed to flea bombs ourselves (the whole place would go kablooey apparently) so Maintenance Man Billy came to my rescue and bombed the place today. That meant that Oscar got to hang out in the car (I’m sure it brought back flashbacks) while I hung out waiting at the hospital for my boss’s live-in girlfriend to finish having hand surgery.(What? That’s what all editor-types do on a Monday. Okay, it’s not, but it’s a whole other story…so back to the fleas.)
When I saw my hero-of-the-day Billy later on, he mentioned that it’s been a bad year for fleas and, in fact, just last week he had to bomb the apartment just below me, seems their dog was having quite a time with them.
So, now, not only am I flea free (fingers crossed!) but we also know the answer to the question “Where do the jumping bastards go when you bomb the downstairs apartment?”
Oh, you wanted to hear about Mexico? Stay tuned, more to come on that!
Please excuse the following rant (these seem to be something of a habit):
Sometimes the things that entertain me about facebook are also the ones that are the most annoying. For example, yesterday when Obama was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize, posts of all kinds emerged. About half were in favor and have were not. That’s fine. The thing is, it kind of annoys me (and, yes, I know I’m guilty of doing this as well) when people suddenly develop an opinion on something (i.e. the entire Nobel Prize awarding process) starting at the moment when something they love/despise is brought into it.
Seriously, how many of us really pay attention to this year in and year out enough to make a decent judgment call on first hearing? I know I don’t. Do you? Try your hand at these questions:
- What are the six categories that the Nobel is awarded in?
- What German author won the prize for literature earlier this month?
- Who won the Nobel Peace Prize last year?
- Which of the following did not win the Nobel Peace Prize: Yasar Arafat, Woodrow Wilson, Mahatma Gandhi or Henry Kissinger.
If you can’t answer those questions (I only knew one) then you, like me, should probably not be judging the entire Nobel Prize process and organization. Sure agree, disagree with the decision, but, frankly, it’s neither the end of the world nor a big deal…in my opinion.
In other news. I’m going to Mexico tomorrow…Hooray! Here are a few photos from the last trip:
That’s not actually a waterfall, it’s pillars of petrified salt crystals. Here’s what it looks like up close
Kinda crazy.
Back in a week!
I just read this, which is one of the best sentences I have read in a long time:
I have never even idly thought for a single passing second that it might make my life nicer to have a small, rude, incontinent person follow me around screaming and making me buy them stuff for the rest of my life.
It was part of a column by Tim Kreider called “The Referendum” and I think you should read it. It’s a great piece about what we want in life and what we don’t and how we never know and why we look at our friends and total strangers to fill in the gaps. It’s not all funny, but it is all true. And it ends with this, which is a great way to end an essay:
One of the hardest things to look at in this life is the lives we didn’t lead, the path not taken, potential left unfulfilled. In stories, those who look back — Lot’s wife, Orpheus and Eurydice — are lost. Looking to the side instead, to gauge how our companions are faring, is a way of glancing at a safer reflection of what we cannot directly bear, like Perseus seeing the Gorgon safely mirrored in his shield.
Unfortunately, it reminded me why it’ll be a long time before I’m able to write for a living (and on a week like this that’s not something I want to acknowledge). But it was a good read.
And speaking of recommendations: I’m taking suggestions for good ‘vacation reads’ – you got any?
There was a chance that I might die on Saturday. I fully expected my heart to stop mid-stroke/pedal/step and that would be the end.
Hasta la vista.
But, in fact, I’m still here, and all the better for having made it through my first sprint triathlon.
Here we are before, looking goofy in swim caps:
And after, looking goofy in general:
The icing on the cake is that I actually had a lot of fun. Not to mention: I got lost (thank goodness for that golf cart that pointed us in the right direction) and got chased by a dog on the bike ride. How is that not a recipe for a good time?
Seriously, though, I really enjoyed it and I like that–because there is a variety of activities–everyone has something they are good at and something they are mediocre(ish) at…so everyone is really friendly and cheery. Maybe that was just because I was towards the back. Nonetheless, if you need a triathlon buddy, I know a few girls who will gladly keep you company!
*Thanks Amy for allowing me to steal your photos (though I should give Jon credit for taking them) and you people should thank me for not putting up any pictures of us in action where we look…well…ridiculous.
This morning these two headlines greeted me on the New York Times:
Jobless Rate Worse than Expected; Rate Raises to 9.8%
and
Chicago Makes Case to Host 2016 Olympics
Now, I (for some reason I don’t understand) love the Olympics, and I hear Chicago is a nice city, and I’m certainly all for us winning a hosting gig. However, given that 10% of our country is jobless, I’m not sure that’s the exact best use of our president’s time at the moment.
Then again, if we win, there’ll be a lot of new jobs created to build all the stuff the Olympics need. Now, I get it…Obama wins again.
