Friday, July 18, 2008
The New Gig
i’m two weeks into the new jobby now. i’m still with the same company, just moved over into a totally different department to do totally different work. the move was less than smooth but a long time in the making. i knew about it for six months and tried to make the transition sooner, but my old department — which was swamped with work, much of which they wanted me to complete — lined the road with hoops of fire.
i got the tap on the shoulder last christmas; new department called and said, “hey, we’re creating a new position here. maybe you can fill it.” it’s weird because i wasn’t unhappy in my old role or even looking for something new, but i knew i would take it immediately, despite feigning cucumber coolness at that first phone call, which i ended with, “i’ll think about it.”
it seemed like divine intervention, like the faeries floated out of the trees and said, “hey you, girl — the girl with the confused look on her face and pimple on her nose. yes, YOU. in addition to the house you’re about to get and old boyfriend you just reconciled with, you’ll be starting a new job in the summer. get ready.”
it should have seemed like too much to take on at once, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. things had become too steady, too built. i could feel the restlessness thrashing around inside me, screaming “i’m bored! i’m bored!” and here came the opportunity to tear it all down and rebuild.
i had been doing my old job for three years. in case you missed it, my old job was working as a copy editor for my company’s website, a website that helps facilitate the selling of mutual funds. it’s ok to be jealous. i know it’s the sexiest work around. i know this because when i’m at a dinner party with new people who ask me what i do for a living and i say, “i’m a finance editor,” their eyes glaze over with jealousy. then they turn their backs on me, probably after concluding that i’m the coolest person in the room and they’re too intimidated to talk to me. then they walk away.
i can’t wait to see their reaction when i tell them that i work for my company’s compliance department. they will surely turn green with envy. and what of this new department? well so far, i love it. the team i’m working on is much smaller than the web team i used to be part of, and that’s a better environment for me. i’m pretty much working with just three other women, all of whom i get along with splendidly. so splendid that our periods have already synchronized.
the job is slower paced, i’m in fewer meetings, and i have greater autonomy in my work, some of which involves maintaining my company’s internal compliance website, which means all the tech classes i’ve taken in the past will finally pay off. the only thing i miss about my old job are the very nice people i’ve become buddies with over the last three years but there’s plenty of opportunities to gossip with them over lunch.
new job also means i’m taking the metro to work three days out of the week. i’m still abnormally excited by this. to prepare for my new adventures as a Gold Line commuter, i bought the most excellent ergonomic backpack and loaded my new iPod touch full of music. on day one at the train station, i put the iPod on shuffle and plugged the earbuds into my head just as the train approached and U2’s “The Fly” came on. that’s my most favorite U2 song.
as i stepped onto the train in search of a seat, scanning the faces of my fellow Angelinos and with this crazy guitar riff blasting in my ears, i felt this strange rush overtake me, complete with tingles in my head and goose pimples on my arms. it was surreal, like a scene in a movie, where i looked around and wondered, “am i still in LA because this feels totally foreign?” but yes, i was still in LA and loving on it.
i wanted to share my excitement with the other commuters, maybe go around the train offering hugs, but they looked far less ecstatic to be there. in fact, they looked downright bored, like they had been riding the train for years and would rather be sitting in an air-conditioned car, while i sat near them with a stupid grin on my face, listening to Bono’s falsetto sing “Love, we shine like a burning star falling through the sky.”
i got the tap on the shoulder last christmas; new department called and said, “hey, we’re creating a new position here. maybe you can fill it.” it’s weird because i wasn’t unhappy in my old role or even looking for something new, but i knew i would take it immediately, despite feigning cucumber coolness at that first phone call, which i ended with, “i’ll think about it.”
it seemed like divine intervention, like the faeries floated out of the trees and said, “hey you, girl — the girl with the confused look on her face and pimple on her nose. yes, YOU. in addition to the house you’re about to get and old boyfriend you just reconciled with, you’ll be starting a new job in the summer. get ready.”
it should have seemed like too much to take on at once, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. things had become too steady, too built. i could feel the restlessness thrashing around inside me, screaming “i’m bored! i’m bored!” and here came the opportunity to tear it all down and rebuild.
i had been doing my old job for three years. in case you missed it, my old job was working as a copy editor for my company’s website, a website that helps facilitate the selling of mutual funds. it’s ok to be jealous. i know it’s the sexiest work around. i know this because when i’m at a dinner party with new people who ask me what i do for a living and i say, “i’m a finance editor,” their eyes glaze over with jealousy. then they turn their backs on me, probably after concluding that i’m the coolest person in the room and they’re too intimidated to talk to me. then they walk away.
i can’t wait to see their reaction when i tell them that i work for my company’s compliance department. they will surely turn green with envy. and what of this new department? well so far, i love it. the team i’m working on is much smaller than the web team i used to be part of, and that’s a better environment for me. i’m pretty much working with just three other women, all of whom i get along with splendidly. so splendid that our periods have already synchronized.
the job is slower paced, i’m in fewer meetings, and i have greater autonomy in my work, some of which involves maintaining my company’s internal compliance website, which means all the tech classes i’ve taken in the past will finally pay off. the only thing i miss about my old job are the very nice people i’ve become buddies with over the last three years but there’s plenty of opportunities to gossip with them over lunch.
new job also means i’m taking the metro to work three days out of the week. i’m still abnormally excited by this. to prepare for my new adventures as a Gold Line commuter, i bought the most excellent ergonomic backpack and loaded my new iPod touch full of music. on day one at the train station, i put the iPod on shuffle and plugged the earbuds into my head just as the train approached and U2’s “The Fly” came on. that’s my most favorite U2 song.
as i stepped onto the train in search of a seat, scanning the faces of my fellow Angelinos and with this crazy guitar riff blasting in my ears, i felt this strange rush overtake me, complete with tingles in my head and goose pimples on my arms. it was surreal, like a scene in a movie, where i looked around and wondered, “am i still in LA because this feels totally foreign?” but yes, i was still in LA and loving on it.
i wanted to share my excitement with the other commuters, maybe go around the train offering hugs, but they looked far less ecstatic to be there. in fact, they looked downright bored, like they had been riding the train for years and would rather be sitting in an air-conditioned car, while i sat near them with a stupid grin on my face, listening to Bono’s falsetto sing “Love, we shine like a burning star falling through the sky.”
Labels: work
Monday, July 07, 2008
My Summer Vacation
i took three glorious days off of work the other week, which, when combined with the holiday three-day weekend, made for six whole days without work, a condensed summer vacation during which i did a whole lot of nothing. it was a beautiful type of nothing that has no consequences save having to do a something later. haha, i say now to that lengthy to-do list i wrote at the start of my respite before the inertia of sleep and leisure took over. i read it over now and marvel at how silly i was to think i should spend any part of my six days off at Amoeba trying to sell them the used CDs they refused to buy the last time i was there. haha, ha and ha.
the week was not entirely without activity, however. my first day off was spent at marvelous Six Flags Magic Mountain, my beau Mo in hand, riding roller coasters in 100-degree heat. we went on a whim with two-for-one coupons and, as it was a tuesday, barely wasted any time standing in line, and did well to snatch the seats at the front of the train for each ride.
the last time i spent a day at Magic Mountain was 14 years ago during my first year in college, meaning i rode a bunch of new rides this time around, many of which kicked my ass — make that my head. by 4pm, i was spent and queasy; i found myself having to sit still for 15 minutes after each ride to recalibrate my equilibrium, which was flirting dangerously with vertigo. but i refused to be outdone by my childhood hangout so i fought the nausea and trucked on, riding a few more coasters before finally conceding to my wussyhood. by then, we had ridden 10 roller coasters and managed to walk away from the park in a cloud of euphoria, our faces sunburned but smiling and with a fun caricature that we put on the fridge.
if the day at Magic Mountain served as a grad night of sorts to my abbreviated summer vacation, the rest of my week served as the rest of those three months between school years, when laziness rules divine and uninterrupted. i slept in every day, rising reluctantly yet cheerfully, stirred out of bed only when the sound of a dog panting over my face became too smelly to ignore. then i’d languish on the deck with a cup of coffee for an hour while thinking about how little i planned to do with the day.
most days were spent tooling around the house, which didn’t get a whole lot of my attention beyond the usual admiration. i did knock out a few low-effort things on my house list, like reorganizing the kitchen’s contents and setting my desk up in the office, but as far as the labor-intensive work i planned to do in the garage, well haha and ha again.
afternoons were spent reading in bed, with the new ceiling fan making a breeze. as always, my summer reading list is long and i barely managed to power through anything, finishing off just two books before week’s end, one of which i highly recommend. i also had some freelance work happening, including half a dissertation on homicide in Jamaica, in addition to the regular work i do for the ASC.
as evenings approached, i’d get in the kitchen to start the meal-making. Mo and i had a few cookouts, some of which involved good friends who came by to sample our world-famous hamburgers, mashed potatoes and gazpacho. we sat on the deck every night, eating like royalty, our meals topped off with fresh watermelon, while the dogs laid at our feet, mouths ajar and drooling. i left the house only on a few choice occasions — when i felt compelled to shop for food and cute shoes and for a half-hour massage and steam room visit. sadly, i never made it to Amoeba. (ha)
the highlight of the week is one of those had-to-be-there kind of things that involves a lot of 4th of July fireworks. namely, the multitude of fireworks i witnessed blowing up over Highland Park while i sat on my deck, transfixed for three hours. a neighbor mentioned the yearly display casually, saying he’s had to tranquilize his dog before and now just stays across town with his daughter on that night. but i thought nothing of it since most fireworks are illegal in Cali.
haha on me. by 8pm, the place was on fire in a strange mix of disneyland and baghdad. explosions went off every few seconds, followed by colorful sparkles that seemed to occupy every inch of the night sky. to say that there were hundreds of fireworks going off at once is not an exaggeration. to the left, right, overhead, down the road and everywhere else saw a Tijuana firework exploding. from my perfect vantage point on the deck i could see my neighbors’ yards full of bright flashes and booms, while Juice paced nervously through the house, whimpering.
i kept expecting a lull, something to taper off the festivities so i could go back into the house and replenish my vodka spritzer, but the fireworks kept popping for hours like a bag of microwaveable popcorn, with the last few kernels erupting around midnight. all the while, Mo and i sat on the deck in silence, muttering a few holy shits under our breath as a rainbow of fruit flavors blew up all around us. i was stunned, hypnotized, amazed. i had never seen so many fireworks in my whole life. it was AWESOME. everyone in the world is invited to my house next year to see the show along with me.
the week ended predictably: with a major case of sunday blues that pushed me into bed teary-eyed, declaring to Mo that i never wanted to work again and that i better win the lottery before my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am or else something bad would happen. predictably, something bad did happen: my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am, forcing me out of bed without cheer to start work at my new job, which i agonized over like it was the first day of school.
the week was not entirely without activity, however. my first day off was spent at marvelous Six Flags Magic Mountain, my beau Mo in hand, riding roller coasters in 100-degree heat. we went on a whim with two-for-one coupons and, as it was a tuesday, barely wasted any time standing in line, and did well to snatch the seats at the front of the train for each ride.
the last time i spent a day at Magic Mountain was 14 years ago during my first year in college, meaning i rode a bunch of new rides this time around, many of which kicked my ass — make that my head. by 4pm, i was spent and queasy; i found myself having to sit still for 15 minutes after each ride to recalibrate my equilibrium, which was flirting dangerously with vertigo. but i refused to be outdone by my childhood hangout so i fought the nausea and trucked on, riding a few more coasters before finally conceding to my wussyhood. by then, we had ridden 10 roller coasters and managed to walk away from the park in a cloud of euphoria, our faces sunburned but smiling and with a fun caricature that we put on the fridge.
if the day at Magic Mountain served as a grad night of sorts to my abbreviated summer vacation, the rest of my week served as the rest of those three months between school years, when laziness rules divine and uninterrupted. i slept in every day, rising reluctantly yet cheerfully, stirred out of bed only when the sound of a dog panting over my face became too smelly to ignore. then i’d languish on the deck with a cup of coffee for an hour while thinking about how little i planned to do with the day.
most days were spent tooling around the house, which didn’t get a whole lot of my attention beyond the usual admiration. i did knock out a few low-effort things on my house list, like reorganizing the kitchen’s contents and setting my desk up in the office, but as far as the labor-intensive work i planned to do in the garage, well haha and ha again.
afternoons were spent reading in bed, with the new ceiling fan making a breeze. as always, my summer reading list is long and i barely managed to power through anything, finishing off just two books before week’s end, one of which i highly recommend. i also had some freelance work happening, including half a dissertation on homicide in Jamaica, in addition to the regular work i do for the ASC.
as evenings approached, i’d get in the kitchen to start the meal-making. Mo and i had a few cookouts, some of which involved good friends who came by to sample our world-famous hamburgers, mashed potatoes and gazpacho. we sat on the deck every night, eating like royalty, our meals topped off with fresh watermelon, while the dogs laid at our feet, mouths ajar and drooling. i left the house only on a few choice occasions — when i felt compelled to shop for food and cute shoes and for a half-hour massage and steam room visit. sadly, i never made it to Amoeba. (ha)
the highlight of the week is one of those had-to-be-there kind of things that involves a lot of 4th of July fireworks. namely, the multitude of fireworks i witnessed blowing up over Highland Park while i sat on my deck, transfixed for three hours. a neighbor mentioned the yearly display casually, saying he’s had to tranquilize his dog before and now just stays across town with his daughter on that night. but i thought nothing of it since most fireworks are illegal in Cali.
haha on me. by 8pm, the place was on fire in a strange mix of disneyland and baghdad. explosions went off every few seconds, followed by colorful sparkles that seemed to occupy every inch of the night sky. to say that there were hundreds of fireworks going off at once is not an exaggeration. to the left, right, overhead, down the road and everywhere else saw a Tijuana firework exploding. from my perfect vantage point on the deck i could see my neighbors’ yards full of bright flashes and booms, while Juice paced nervously through the house, whimpering.
i kept expecting a lull, something to taper off the festivities so i could go back into the house and replenish my vodka spritzer, but the fireworks kept popping for hours like a bag of microwaveable popcorn, with the last few kernels erupting around midnight. all the while, Mo and i sat on the deck in silence, muttering a few holy shits under our breath as a rainbow of fruit flavors blew up all around us. i was stunned, hypnotized, amazed. i had never seen so many fireworks in my whole life. it was AWESOME. everyone in the world is invited to my house next year to see the show along with me.
the week ended predictably: with a major case of sunday blues that pushed me into bed teary-eyed, declaring to Mo that i never wanted to work again and that i better win the lottery before my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am or else something bad would happen. predictably, something bad did happen: my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am, forcing me out of bed without cheer to start work at my new job, which i agonized over like it was the first day of school.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
32
today is the fourth time i turn 29, also known as my 32nd birthday. it’s a weird one this year, mainly because i feel like i’m not ready for it. another month would have been nice before i arrived here, but given that controlling the speed at which time passes is not something i have mastered yet, here i am having a birthday i’m unprepared to confront. not that birthdays call for so much preparation, but they’ve always triggered some level of introspection and inventory-taking for me, which is hard to muster when i’m shopping for window treatments nonstop.
so this year the birthday belongs to the house. it’s the thing getting showered with all the gifts anyway so i may as well shave a year off of my age and will it to the house instead. so the house turns 1, or maybe it’s just being born, and i remain 31. i mean 29. hell, let’s just make it 25.
i did get a few worthwhile gifts, most notably a new iPod from Mo. it’s full of tubes and has the internets in it. anyone else interested in getting me a gift is encouraged to send a bag of money to my new home address. don’t worry, i won’t spend it all in one place. i’ll just dig a hole in the front yard and pour it in. or maybe i can staple it to the roof or cement it to the siding. and here comes the house getting in the way again, like it always does.
back to birthday, it’s nice this year i guess. overall, i feel fairly spiffy, fairly content. i see now that with each passing year, fewer things are changing so i don’t expect too much crazy this year. at least none of that controlled crazy of my own making. not so sure about the curve ball crazy life might throw my way, but i’ll deal with that when i have to.
my only real resolution for the next year is to start taking better care of myself, which means more exercise, less red meat and more facials. the problem i’m having with aging lately is the actual aging part, where my body and face don’t look quite like i’d want them to. not that i was so satisfied with them before but i have noticed the lines on my face deepening and more gray hairs sprouting on my head. sometimes i’ll catch my reflection in a mirror and be startled by it, like “who’s this old broad with pores so big you can swim in them?” then i’ll go soften the light in the room, take another look and feel better momentarily.
so yes. 32. here i am. and still curious to see where i’m going.
so this year the birthday belongs to the house. it’s the thing getting showered with all the gifts anyway so i may as well shave a year off of my age and will it to the house instead. so the house turns 1, or maybe it’s just being born, and i remain 31. i mean 29. hell, let’s just make it 25.
i did get a few worthwhile gifts, most notably a new iPod from Mo. it’s full of tubes and has the internets in it. anyone else interested in getting me a gift is encouraged to send a bag of money to my new home address. don’t worry, i won’t spend it all in one place. i’ll just dig a hole in the front yard and pour it in. or maybe i can staple it to the roof or cement it to the siding. and here comes the house getting in the way again, like it always does.
back to birthday, it’s nice this year i guess. overall, i feel fairly spiffy, fairly content. i see now that with each passing year, fewer things are changing so i don’t expect too much crazy this year. at least none of that controlled crazy of my own making. not so sure about the curve ball crazy life might throw my way, but i’ll deal with that when i have to.
my only real resolution for the next year is to start taking better care of myself, which means more exercise, less red meat and more facials. the problem i’m having with aging lately is the actual aging part, where my body and face don’t look quite like i’d want them to. not that i was so satisfied with them before but i have noticed the lines on my face deepening and more gray hairs sprouting on my head. sometimes i’ll catch my reflection in a mirror and be startled by it, like “who’s this old broad with pores so big you can swim in them?” then i’ll go soften the light in the room, take another look and feel better momentarily.
so yes. 32. here i am. and still curious to see where i’m going.
Labels: birthday
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The Home-Improvement Chronicles: The Living Room
ready to come inside? it’s not so scary anymore. in fact, it’s downright gorgeous — so gorgeous that i die a little inside each time i have to leave the house.
welcome: Juice and Pinko will be your faithful tour guides for this journey and will demonstrate how well the house facilitates their doing of nothing — but doing it in style. here, Juice demonstrates her favorite pastime of floor laying, with her trusty sidekick Pinko at left aiding her in the leisurely pursuit.
view from the front door, looking left: would you like a seat? how about a cup of coffee? what about a laptop or book? now put all those together and you’ll have a good sense of what i do when i’m lounging in this chair.
view from the front door, looking right: wanna lie down? you’ll have to clear it with Mo, as the couch is generally his to lounge on. mine, too, sometimes.
view out the picture window: after the walls were patched up, primed and painted, Mo and i just didn’t have the heart to put holes in the new craftsman-esque trim we add to the windows and doors, so we went with free-standing screens instead of drapes in the living room, bought for cheap from overstock.com. the three-panel screens have adjustable shutters that we keep open during the day to let the light in. the screens don’t extend all the way to the top of the window, but given the house’s position on the block, only the birdies sitting in the massive tree in the front yard will ever be able to peek in through the opening at the top to see Mo and i, um... reading on the couch. yeah, reading.
hey, where did our tour guides go? where they always go: to the deck to take in the cool air and nice view below while sun tanning. i don’t blame them. i do the same thing, minus the sun tanning and usually with wine.
roasted meat: Pinko will usually outlast Juice in the sun by a good half hour or more and come in smelling like a barbecued hot dog. then i put ketchup and pickles on her and feed her to Juice.
back in the house: when Pinko does finally come inside, she’ll usually collapse on the bamboo floors and pant a puddle around her own head. then i’ll swoop in with paper towels to blot out the puddle and gently remind Pinko that we’re not renters anymore.
Chuy who? i do love the floors, even though they are hard as hell to keep clean. like a black car, they pick up and amplify every piece of dust of dirt, so i find myself sweeping, vacuuming and mopping them almost daily. but when they are clean, they are stunning. they are also everywhere in the house, including the kitchen. so far, they have been quite durable, which is not to say they are totally unscratched as my playful pets have indeed left their marks, but i imagine that hardwood would have picked up more marks than the brand of bamboo i chose, which is (supposed to be) harder than the white oak and maple species of wood.
the three blues: with a few exceptions, the darkest blue is reserved for the innermost walls of the house, the ones without doors and windows. the medium blue is for the outer walls that contain the doors and windows and are opposite the dark blue walls, which allows for the natural light to bounce onto the dark walls and lighten them; the lightest shade of blue was used for the trim. also note the Arroyo Seco Parkway poster, bought especially to honor the new house and neighborhood. if you’ve ever been (stuck in traffic) on the historic 110 freeway near Pasadena, which was built in the 1930s with overhead bridges so low that trucks are forbidden on its roads, you’ve likely seen signs that are identical to this poster.
immediate left of the front door: beyond the short wall that houses my Blitzstein’s Lightbulb Man is the kitchen. that wall used to be twice its width and painted maroon. to the left of that wall is a foyer that leads into the two bedrooms and the one bathroom.
the cluster effect: Mo’s philosophy on art-hanging is to cluster pieces on some walls while leaving other walls largely empty. clearly, this is the art wall, with the opposite wall, which holds the blue dog painting and not much else, serving as the bare wall. watching Mo drill multiple holes into this wall caused me great discomfort, enough to declare that the items on this wall shall remain permanently affixed to it. there will be no changing of the art in the future, as that might necessitate the making of more holes.
his and hers: Mo’s four Buff Monster cans next to my 1980 Moscow Olympiad poster, the only Olympics the USA ever boycotted.
wall of tyranny: i don’t collect many things, but i’ve decided that the nesting dolls of russian leaders will be that one collection obsession of mine. Mo bought me my second set recently, a unique set that has Putin on top with 12 leaders incubating inside him, including a rice-sized Nicholas II and a pea-sized Marx and Engels. next, i’m keeping an eye out for a Medvedev set.
the coziest chair in the world: it really is. i quite enjoy sitting on it. behind it is a sneak preview of the kitchen, to be covered in the next chronicle.
Labels: home, home improvement
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Everything Else
when i haven’t been busy loving on the house, working on the house or living in the house, i’ve been doing other stuff. not much other stuff, though, as the house remains the centerpiece of most waking moments. but when it’s not, i’ve been spending time doing much exploring of my new neighborhood, which i’ll get to at a later post and which entails the eating of much mexican food. it also entails getting lost constantly and following streets until they dead-end into hillsides — a common feature in highland park. then there’s the trips to ikea, home depot, lowes, Micky Mouse Hardware, and there i go talking about the house again. let me try to stay focused with some bullet points:
- i saw Duran Duran in concert a few weeks ago, which made me very, very happy since i loves me some Hungry Like the Wolf. i’ve seen them before, numerous times in fact and, as always, their performance was beyond superb and made me scream like the 14-year-old girl i truly am inside. but unlike the 14-year-old girl i used to be, who would spend hours by the backstage door hoping to catch a glimpse of my soul mate, bassist john taylor, i went home right after the sunday-night show, humming New Moon on Monday during the drive home.
- i took the Gold Line to work the other week — and was probably a little too excited by it. it was an exhilarating experience, one i never thought i’d have in this fair city of mine, where car culture is the only culture outside of the yogurt. but there i was making the 10-minute drive to the train station, where i parked my car and hopped aboard the choo-choo — dumb smile on my face, my love for los angeles overflowing — and sat among the other commuters navigating their way into downtown LA for the workday. one trip did the trick, so starting in july i’ll be going metro to work three out of five days. this means a company-paid metro card, the $50/month parking fee my work charges waived, and savings galore on gas.
- speaking of work, i’m starting a new job at my company in july. i’m not sure what i can say about it here other than it’s different from the work i’ve been doing as a financial editor, though not entirely different. i’ll still be making edits to copy, but whereas before when i would review copy and then send it to my company’s Compliance department for rubber-stamping, i’ll now be on the Compliance side doing the rubber-stamping. the job is rooted in the legal department and will have me interpreting all sorts of sexy FINRA guidelines, like how regulatory disclosures should be presented in sales materials. HOT!
- i spent a few days in beautiful El Segundo taking a course on Cascading Style Sheets (CSS), which are complicated as a mother fucker to learn. the course was the complement to the HTML course i took last year in Costa Mesa, which was also complicated. i’m sure it could all make sense with a little practice, maybe a lot of practice, but three days of having the nuances of a programming language thrown at me overwhelmed me enough to conclude that i am just too stupid to learn this stuff.
- i saw the SATC movie, which i enjoyed immensely as it felt like a long, new episode of the show and was made better by the fact that i caught one of the SATC T-shirts the ushers threw into the crowd before the film started. i got some serious mad-dog glares from the girls surrounding me when i nabbed it and worried that those bitches would jump me in the parking lot after the show, but they kept their distance after i told them that i knew kung fu. (i don’t know kung fu.) the shirt reads “I ♥ New York,” which is funny because i don’t ♥ New York all that much. i ♥ LA infinitely more, especially after that train ride.
Monday, June 09, 2008
How It’s Been
i know, you don’t really care about how it’s been being a homeowner for three weeks. you’d rather see the after photos that show the gorgeous bamboo floors and beautifully painted walls that don’t resemble monkey shit. rest assured, they are coming. it’s just that no one room is truly done and fully presentable. bedroom is close, but it’s still missing window treatments and closet doors. the office is piled high with boxes. kitchen is without backsplash and needs its baseboards painted. and the list goes on ad infinitum. i won’t bore you with it here.
ok, maybe i can bore you a little bit: why is it so hard for ikea to make backsplashes for its countertops? why is it that when you buy an entire kitchen from ikea, as i did, you have to buy an extra block of countertop and cut the backsplash from it yourself? wouldn’t it make more sense for ikea to carry precut backsplashes for its countertops as a basic constituent part of a kitchen?
alright, bitching done. thanks for playing. let’s resume with our originally scheduled program of praise for homeownership…
so far, it’s been pretty fantastic. i’m not sure whether it’s homeownership itself that is fantastic or just the fact that i’m living in a place i dig a whole lot. i did like my old place a whole lot, too, but it was small. about 650 square feet of bite-sized charm that worked perfectly when it was just Juice and me, but when Mo and Pinko joined our equation, life at home became decidedly less charming and more sardine-like.
but now we all have space. now, Mo no longer lives out of his suitcase — as he has for the past two years — because he has a closet of his very own. now, he no longer has to use our living room as his studio because he has an office of his very own. and there’s space for storage: a basement and a garage. and there’s the driveway where i park my car. a driveway so big that it fits TWO whole cars, meaning my friends no longer bitch about parking when they come over because we’re not in west hollywood anymore, Toto, and they can park right alongside me in the uber-driveway.
so yes, the space is nice. the house itself is also extraordinarily nice. (yes, yes, photos are coming.) i find myself walking around the place daily, studying every molding and kissing every piece of hardware in the kitchen before i lie in bed and cuddle with the refrigerator.
in short, i’m in love: deeply, passionately profoundly in love. every love song i hear on the radio reminds me of the house. every vacation i daydream about taking involves me hanging out at home. i miss the house when i’m at work and spend my days imagining all the things we can do together in the future. i’m not sure if the house has become my new boyfriend or my new baby, but i’d breastfeed it if i could. if it needed a kidney, i would so deliver. i love it so much that i find myself telling Mo daily, “have i told you how much i love the house today?” only adding as an afterthought, “and you, too, baby!” then i go make out with the baseboards.
i know, it’s the honeymoon phase — and i hope it lasts as long as possible. i like this phase, need it really, so when the ceiling crumbles and plumbing floods the basement later on, i’ll have developed a solid love for the house and won’t mind pouring the time, money and effort needed to make it great again. so for now, i’m happy to have that love grow and sustain me later when things turn to shit, which i’m sure they will. i’m sure there’ll be situations that make me curse the day i stopped being a renter, situations borne of uncooperative appliances and unexpected expenses. already, there has been a toilet that broke, outlets that have gone boom and a kitchen overrun by ants. and i anticipate many more unhappy surprises of the subflooring variety when future phases of construction begin on the house, with one (hopefully) beginning later this summer.
but for now i’m happy to relish in the newness of this love, when anything seems possible. i’ll regard this time always with fondness, as it marks the start of the next profound relationship of my life, akin to when i first brought my puppies home and first committed to Mo.
and did i mention the view? the glorious view that serves as the backdrop of each waking moment at home, comforting me during each meal, during each cup of coffee in the morning and glass of wine in the evening, the view that has already done wonders for my usually variable mood. it does indeed soothe me after a hard day’s work, “adding minutes to my life,” as my new buddy Miguel says. it’s the one thing that will make all future household drama bearable as all i’ll need to do when things get tough is step on the deck, take a few calming breaths and stare.
ok, maybe i can bore you a little bit: why is it so hard for ikea to make backsplashes for its countertops? why is it that when you buy an entire kitchen from ikea, as i did, you have to buy an extra block of countertop and cut the backsplash from it yourself? wouldn’t it make more sense for ikea to carry precut backsplashes for its countertops as a basic constituent part of a kitchen?
alright, bitching done. thanks for playing. let’s resume with our originally scheduled program of praise for homeownership…
so far, it’s been pretty fantastic. i’m not sure whether it’s homeownership itself that is fantastic or just the fact that i’m living in a place i dig a whole lot. i did like my old place a whole lot, too, but it was small. about 650 square feet of bite-sized charm that worked perfectly when it was just Juice and me, but when Mo and Pinko joined our equation, life at home became decidedly less charming and more sardine-like.
but now we all have space. now, Mo no longer lives out of his suitcase — as he has for the past two years — because he has a closet of his very own. now, he no longer has to use our living room as his studio because he has an office of his very own. and there’s space for storage: a basement and a garage. and there’s the driveway where i park my car. a driveway so big that it fits TWO whole cars, meaning my friends no longer bitch about parking when they come over because we’re not in west hollywood anymore, Toto, and they can park right alongside me in the uber-driveway.
so yes, the space is nice. the house itself is also extraordinarily nice. (yes, yes, photos are coming.) i find myself walking around the place daily, studying every molding and kissing every piece of hardware in the kitchen before i lie in bed and cuddle with the refrigerator.
in short, i’m in love: deeply, passionately profoundly in love. every love song i hear on the radio reminds me of the house. every vacation i daydream about taking involves me hanging out at home. i miss the house when i’m at work and spend my days imagining all the things we can do together in the future. i’m not sure if the house has become my new boyfriend or my new baby, but i’d breastfeed it if i could. if it needed a kidney, i would so deliver. i love it so much that i find myself telling Mo daily, “have i told you how much i love the house today?” only adding as an afterthought, “and you, too, baby!” then i go make out with the baseboards.
i know, it’s the honeymoon phase — and i hope it lasts as long as possible. i like this phase, need it really, so when the ceiling crumbles and plumbing floods the basement later on, i’ll have developed a solid love for the house and won’t mind pouring the time, money and effort needed to make it great again. so for now, i’m happy to have that love grow and sustain me later when things turn to shit, which i’m sure they will. i’m sure there’ll be situations that make me curse the day i stopped being a renter, situations borne of uncooperative appliances and unexpected expenses. already, there has been a toilet that broke, outlets that have gone boom and a kitchen overrun by ants. and i anticipate many more unhappy surprises of the subflooring variety when future phases of construction begin on the house, with one (hopefully) beginning later this summer.
but for now i’m happy to relish in the newness of this love, when anything seems possible. i’ll regard this time always with fondness, as it marks the start of the next profound relationship of my life, akin to when i first brought my puppies home and first committed to Mo.
and did i mention the view? the glorious view that serves as the backdrop of each waking moment at home, comforting me during each meal, during each cup of coffee in the morning and glass of wine in the evening, the view that has already done wonders for my usually variable mood. it does indeed soothe me after a hard day’s work, “adding minutes to my life,” as my new buddy Miguel says. it’s the one thing that will make all future household drama bearable as all i’ll need to do when things get tough is step on the deck, take a few calming breaths and stare.
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Home-Improvement Chronicles: Construction Rewind
as you might have guessed, i’ve spent the past few weeks slaving away at home, lately in more temperate weather, with the house starting to look somewhat presentable. i’ve actually had some folks over to see it, including my perpetually critical parents, who kindly pointed out everything that still needed to be done while also throwing in some compliments. they also brought me about a year’s supply of toilet paper, paper towels and aluminum foil, with my ma saying that i could use a microderm.
it’s very close to being complete, getting closer by the day, and once i buy closet doors for the bedroom and hallway, install window treatments and the ceiling fan in the bedroom, hang the big mirror as well as the art and dry-erase board, finish the cabinetry in the kitchen and redo the house’s exterior plus the deck, i’ll be ready for the big housewarming party. at this rate i’m only three years away.
in the meantime, i thought i’d post additional photos, some of which were taken by my contractor during construction, sent to me only a week ago.
kitchen rewind: behind that maroon wall is the house’s kitchen. correction: was the house’s kitchen. Mo spent a good chunk of time there, notebook and tape measure in hand, sketching the new and improved kitchen.
more ugly: besides the obvious ugly of the cabinetry, in typical Chuy fashion, the kitchen’s layout made no sense. the countertops consisted of granite scraps glued together haphazardly with no backsplash. also note how the kitchen’s only window is obscured by an overhead cabinet.
sink wall: perhaps the sink should have been facing the window instead, because in its old location it was impossible to wash dishes without hitting your forehead on the wine cabinet above. but maybe the former owners were all circus midgets who didn’t have that problem.
square one: nothing was worth salvaging from the kitchen, so we tore everything out to start from scratch. we also demolished about half of the maroon wall to open up the space and join the kitchen area with the living room. also note the multitude of electrical outlets in the kitchen, positioned in the most random places. my theory is that Chuy wanted to hone his outlet-wiring skills so he practiced in the kitchen by wiring eight different outlets on two separate walls. i can’t say he was very good at it, considering the fact that the fridge blew an outlet one week after it was plugged in, spoiling the groceries i had filled it with a day earlier.
indisposed: ok, so one thing from the kitchen was saved — the garbage disposal. sink was scrapped.
back to the floors: this shows the condition of the wood that “supported” the subflooring in the living room. these are the boards my contractor was able to rip apart with his bare hands, the boards that prompted me to call Terminix to schedule the termite holocaust.
82 years? the theory is that these were the original floors from when the house was built in 1926, but something tells me they can’t possibly be THAT old, can they?
floored again: the day the contractors tore out the old subflooring, i arrived to the house after work to see the yellow CAUTION tape cops put around crime scenes taped to my front door. the crew told me not to enter, but i couldn’t resist so i opened the front door only to peek in and saw that there really weren’t any floors in the living room, just openings that provided a view into the crawlspace underneath the house. this reminded me of the one time i dissected a frog in biology class and saw its exposed organs.
plywood to the rescue: i went home that day and told Mo the architect about the floorless house and he assured me that the house was heavily anesthetized and not feeling any pain. he also assured me that the frog i dissected in high school was dead long before i tore it open with my knife.
to the next 82: i hope my mythical grandchildren don’t have as hard a time with these floors as i did. i also hope those ungrateful little shits appreciate the new door added to the kitchen and the new window for the sink that will allow them to gaze lovingly into the valley below while they’re washing my dentures.
more floors: the bamboo needed to sit in the house for a couple days before installation so it could acclimate to the house’s natural humidity. a small plank also lived in my purse for a few weeks, visiting stores with me to make sure that any product i bought for the house matched the floors.
click and groove: i went with espresso-colored bamboo by Teragren. great company, LEED-certified, harvests only mature bamboo to produce super-hard floors that can take a beating.
i need to throw my contractor, Platon, a plug here, with my most aggressive suggestion that anyone undergoing a home-improvement project call him. he was beyond fantastic to work with, so fantastic that he’ll be the first and only person i’ll call when more improvements need to be made to my house. he was always responsive, totally genuine, faultlessly polite, and his quote — like the work itself — was unparalleled. great in every way. i couldn’t be more satisfied.
he gave me permission to post his number here, so here it is: 818.279.3118. his full name is Platon Markarian, company is Da Vinci Group. call him immediately.
it’s very close to being complete, getting closer by the day, and once i buy closet doors for the bedroom and hallway, install window treatments and the ceiling fan in the bedroom, hang the big mirror as well as the art and dry-erase board, finish the cabinetry in the kitchen and redo the house’s exterior plus the deck, i’ll be ready for the big housewarming party. at this rate i’m only three years away.
in the meantime, i thought i’d post additional photos, some of which were taken by my contractor during construction, sent to me only a week ago.
kitchen rewind: behind that maroon wall is the house’s kitchen. correction: was the house’s kitchen. Mo spent a good chunk of time there, notebook and tape measure in hand, sketching the new and improved kitchen.
more ugly: besides the obvious ugly of the cabinetry, in typical Chuy fashion, the kitchen’s layout made no sense. the countertops consisted of granite scraps glued together haphazardly with no backsplash. also note how the kitchen’s only window is obscured by an overhead cabinet.
sink wall: perhaps the sink should have been facing the window instead, because in its old location it was impossible to wash dishes without hitting your forehead on the wine cabinet above. but maybe the former owners were all circus midgets who didn’t have that problem.
square one: nothing was worth salvaging from the kitchen, so we tore everything out to start from scratch. we also demolished about half of the maroon wall to open up the space and join the kitchen area with the living room. also note the multitude of electrical outlets in the kitchen, positioned in the most random places. my theory is that Chuy wanted to hone his outlet-wiring skills so he practiced in the kitchen by wiring eight different outlets on two separate walls. i can’t say he was very good at it, considering the fact that the fridge blew an outlet one week after it was plugged in, spoiling the groceries i had filled it with a day earlier.
indisposed: ok, so one thing from the kitchen was saved — the garbage disposal. sink was scrapped.
back to the floors: this shows the condition of the wood that “supported” the subflooring in the living room. these are the boards my contractor was able to rip apart with his bare hands, the boards that prompted me to call Terminix to schedule the termite holocaust.
82 years? the theory is that these were the original floors from when the house was built in 1926, but something tells me they can’t possibly be THAT old, can they?
floored again: the day the contractors tore out the old subflooring, i arrived to the house after work to see the yellow CAUTION tape cops put around crime scenes taped to my front door. the crew told me not to enter, but i couldn’t resist so i opened the front door only to peek in and saw that there really weren’t any floors in the living room, just openings that provided a view into the crawlspace underneath the house. this reminded me of the one time i dissected a frog in biology class and saw its exposed organs.
plywood to the rescue: i went home that day and told Mo the architect about the floorless house and he assured me that the house was heavily anesthetized and not feeling any pain. he also assured me that the frog i dissected in high school was dead long before i tore it open with my knife.
to the next 82: i hope my mythical grandchildren don’t have as hard a time with these floors as i did. i also hope those ungrateful little shits appreciate the new door added to the kitchen and the new window for the sink that will allow them to gaze lovingly into the valley below while they’re washing my dentures.
more floors: the bamboo needed to sit in the house for a couple days before installation so it could acclimate to the house’s natural humidity. a small plank also lived in my purse for a few weeks, visiting stores with me to make sure that any product i bought for the house matched the floors.
click and groove: i went with espresso-colored bamboo by Teragren. great company, LEED-certified, harvests only mature bamboo to produce super-hard floors that can take a beating.
i need to throw my contractor, Platon, a plug here, with my most aggressive suggestion that anyone undergoing a home-improvement project call him. he was beyond fantastic to work with, so fantastic that he’ll be the first and only person i’ll call when more improvements need to be made to my house. he was always responsive, totally genuine, faultlessly polite, and his quote — like the work itself — was unparalleled. great in every way. i couldn’t be more satisfied.
he gave me permission to post his number here, so here it is: 818.279.3118. his full name is Platon Markarian, company is Da Vinci Group. call him immediately.
Labels: home, home improvement
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Move
by all accounts the move wasn’t a disaster. i found a moving company that worked very efficiently for a reasonable rate. the movers were cute hungarian guys who showed up, carefully moved my junk and then quietly left — in about four hours. the only thing complicating the move (and the many days that followed it) was the bullshit sun, which decided to become unbearably hot via a weeklong L.A. heat wave. first day of the heat wave was on move day itself, may 15.
also complicating matters was the fact that the house was not exactly “complete” on move day: the kitchen needed to be built, closets assembled, light fixtures installed, appliances delivered, among many other things. this meant several days of laboring around the house in an oppressive heat that must have produced 70 buckets of sweat. during this time i was downing two gallons of water a day and peeing not at all.
add to the dehydration sun blisters on my face, a sunburned nose, chapped lips, chronic sneezing borne of summer allergies and you’ll have one frazzled, yet happy homeowner hit with the ugly stick. my new neighbor, a fantastic lady named Lisa, ran up to me during the move with arms open yelling, “welcome to the neighborhood!” as she approached, however, and got a closer look, she blurted, “damn, you look beat.” in my heat delirium she reminded me of my mom, and when i fell into her arms for the welcoming hug, i hung onto her tightly and almost asked her to hold me and tell me it would all be ok. nevermind that i was layered in sweat and smelled like a sewer.
once the movers pulled out of the driveway, i moved my car into it to unload a few items, and that’s when it hit me: like, wow, i’m parked in a driveway, my own driveway, that leads to my house, my own house. i have a house in front of me that’s my house, and my own car is in my own driveway leading up to my own house.
this was significant not only because i had a house, but more so because i finally had a parking space — something that never happened during my ten years of living in hollywood, where i had only street parking. but now i had an actual parking space and would never again need to redden my wrists by attaching six shopping bags full of groceries to them so i could make the two-block walk from my car to my apartment. now i would never again need to play the fun morning game of, “dude, where’s my car?” or “dude, i forgot about street cleaning and now have a parking ticket.”
i welled up with emotion at the thought of my new parking space and let the happy tears spill out. this was it. i had come home. i tried taking a few breaths but almost choked on the hot air. with windows up, the sun had baked my car extra crispy and ruined my own moment in it.
i darted into the house and saw the mess of boxes piled high in each corner. two nervous dogs circled my legs and panted uncontrollably, their drool spilling onto the new bamboo floors i just paid for. i walked over to Mo, who stood idly amid the mess, also unsure where to begin. he looked over at me, tilted his head and said, “damn, you look like hell.” felt like hell, too. still i asked him, “can i have a hug?” he looked reluctant, “ok, but only a quick one. it’s too hot.”
it was too hot — easily 105ºF. too hot to really do anything, and i wanted nothing more than to sit in a bathtub full of ice with a fan pointed at my face, but i knew that the one bathtub in the house needed serious scrubbing and the fan was packed away somewhere unknowable so i rolled up my figurative sleeves (i was wearing a tank top) and went to work.
also complicating matters was the fact that the house was not exactly “complete” on move day: the kitchen needed to be built, closets assembled, light fixtures installed, appliances delivered, among many other things. this meant several days of laboring around the house in an oppressive heat that must have produced 70 buckets of sweat. during this time i was downing two gallons of water a day and peeing not at all.
add to the dehydration sun blisters on my face, a sunburned nose, chapped lips, chronic sneezing borne of summer allergies and you’ll have one frazzled, yet happy homeowner hit with the ugly stick. my new neighbor, a fantastic lady named Lisa, ran up to me during the move with arms open yelling, “welcome to the neighborhood!” as she approached, however, and got a closer look, she blurted, “damn, you look beat.” in my heat delirium she reminded me of my mom, and when i fell into her arms for the welcoming hug, i hung onto her tightly and almost asked her to hold me and tell me it would all be ok. nevermind that i was layered in sweat and smelled like a sewer.
once the movers pulled out of the driveway, i moved my car into it to unload a few items, and that’s when it hit me: like, wow, i’m parked in a driveway, my own driveway, that leads to my house, my own house. i have a house in front of me that’s my house, and my own car is in my own driveway leading up to my own house.
this was significant not only because i had a house, but more so because i finally had a parking space — something that never happened during my ten years of living in hollywood, where i had only street parking. but now i had an actual parking space and would never again need to redden my wrists by attaching six shopping bags full of groceries to them so i could make the two-block walk from my car to my apartment. now i would never again need to play the fun morning game of, “dude, where’s my car?” or “dude, i forgot about street cleaning and now have a parking ticket.”
i welled up with emotion at the thought of my new parking space and let the happy tears spill out. this was it. i had come home. i tried taking a few breaths but almost choked on the hot air. with windows up, the sun had baked my car extra crispy and ruined my own moment in it.
i darted into the house and saw the mess of boxes piled high in each corner. two nervous dogs circled my legs and panted uncontrollably, their drool spilling onto the new bamboo floors i just paid for. i walked over to Mo, who stood idly amid the mess, also unsure where to begin. he looked over at me, tilted his head and said, “damn, you look like hell.” felt like hell, too. still i asked him, “can i have a hug?” he looked reluctant, “ok, but only a quick one. it’s too hot.”
it was too hot — easily 105ºF. too hot to really do anything, and i wanted nothing more than to sit in a bathtub full of ice with a fan pointed at my face, but i knew that the one bathtub in the house needed serious scrubbing and the fan was packed away somewhere unknowable so i rolled up my figurative sleeves (i was wearing a tank top) and went to work.
Labels: home
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Happy Birthday, Blog!
last week, May 14, marked the 5th birthday of The Milla Times Journal. crazy, eh? five whole years of melodramatic ramblings and embarrassing gut spillage posted all over the interwebs!! and to think it all started with a post that read: “blah, blah, blah. testing, testing, testing.”
like many things in life, this blog started out as something very different than it ended up. five years ago, this website’s sole purpose was to satisfy a course requirement to maintain a dairy while i worked as a journalist in London. i had gone over for a six-week internship with Voice of America, courtesy of a work-abroad program sponsored by USC, where i was getting my master’s in journalism. the blog also served as a way to keep family and friends abreast of my happenings while i was overseas — first working that journalism job, then during a month-long hop on the Eurail that took me all over Europe.
i figured the blog would stop soon after i landed back in LA, but it just kept going and going, chronicling my last year in grad school, the graduation, a big breakup, three months of internet dating, the harem, finding a job, falling in love, then another big breakup, losing a friend, getting a puppy, and now owning my first home. mixed with that were recurring tales of drunkenness, depression, frustration and lamentation — sprinkled with some mighty bad photos of myself. in short, five years of self-obsessed drivel.
but why blog? why put your shit-stained laundry on the clothesline for all the world to see? i get asked this often, and while i won’t pretend to speak for all the bloggers in the universe, i think for a lot of us who keep a personal blog, its existence is as much for ourselves as it is for the readers. foremost, it’s a journal in the traditional sense so it’s fun for me to review older entries and see my evolution as a human. truthfully, i’ll read things i wrote five years ago, even one year ago, and want to barf. five years from now i’m sure i’ll be reviewing things i write today and feel the same thing. and that’s ok by me.
i’ve thought of removing some of the racier posts or deleting those with the most atrocious writing or even correcting the typos that burn my eyes and chip away at my skull, but i tend to leave them alone. i need them to learn from. i need them to keep me honest, to keep me comfortable with my imperfections. i need them to remind me that the world won’t end if i publish something against my better judgment. after all, this is only a blog on the internet. big whoop.
the public side of it is another matter. i understand that people will judge. they could find me to be a certifiable shithead, just as i could find those same people to be pathetic trolls whose only concept of love is rubbing peanut butter all over their bodies for their dogs to lick off while they eat their TV dinners and blast bloggers for having a viewpoint. see, i’m people. i will judge, too.
with that in mind, now seems like the perfect time to let y’all know that i plan to post some ads here, probably sometime this year. they’ll likely start as simple google ads and will hopefully not grow into those annoying ads that taunt you to catch a monkey for $20. i don’t anticipate making boatloads of money from these ads, but now that mama has a mortgage to pay, every little bit helps. i’d also like to give this blog the makeover i’ve been talking about giving it for ages. hopefully also this year.
i’ve begun to tag entries with a subject, a process that will take some time to complete as i’m rummaging through the archives so that every post gets at least one tag. so far, i’ve created 17 different tags that range from birthdays to holidays to music. to date, the tag with the most entries is dating, which has 19 posts to its credit, followed by whining with 13, and then breakups with 10. i know — how totally poetic. i expect the travel tag to pick up the most entries once i get around to tagging those early posts of my adventures in Europe. of course my favorite tags include the photos of the cuties, labeled with dogliness (seven entries), and Mo’s love notes (nine).
other blog oddities in case anyone cares:
- this post is number 255.
- the posts that have generated the greatest amount of comments, 36 total, are this one and this one.
- the post that’s generated the greatest amount of emails was the one about my visit to the psychic in hawaii. i average roughly one email a month on that one. most just ask for her contact info — which is listed twice in the comments — but sometimes people share their own experiences of seeing her, which are usually interesting.
- the posts i cannot bear to read are those that deal with Angela’s death, labeled with the death tag. always a buzz kill.
- although i’ve broken this rule on occasion, i’ve vowed to never discuss details of my political beliefs or events that occur at my day job. the whys of this should be pretty self-evident.
- to date, there have been two sorta stalkers, more like fans, who have emerged from this blogging experience. the first, of course, started out as commentator “Chris Knight,” who turned out to be my arch nemesis from high school, Marlin (aka Mo), now my spectacular boyfriend. the other (plexi, you still out there?) was a former coworker who sent me a sweet birthday e-card one year and asked me out for a drink. (never happened.)
*******
last week i finally moved into my new house. it even looks new after all the work that’s gone into it. (photos to come in a few weeks once all the boxes are emptied). with the new house in tow, the blog turning five, my love of Mo growing by the day and a new position at my work that i’ll reveal more about later, i sense that this is the beginning of the next big chapter of my life. i know how absolutely cheesy that sounds and i wish i had better poetry to express it, but it’s a valid truth for me right now.
lately, i’ve been experiencing an intense blend of excitement, optimism, anxiety, tearfulness and wonderment — which means that i’m feeling like my usual self. i’m generally not a fan of big life transitions and emotional upheaval, but this one has been tolerable, even enjoyable as it’s engaged all my senses and propelled me into my future, which seems saturated with possibility. i feel alive, alert and so stupidly weepy that i could look at a flower now and cry.
the past five years have been sometimes terrific, sometimes terrible, and spilling their contents on this space has been greatly rewarding for me. plus, it’s cheaper than therapy. i can’t wait to see what the next five bring and only hope that you’ll continue to play along — leave some comments, click some ads, roll your eyes at my absurdity and maybe chuckle at my bad jokes.
thanks for reading.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Home-Improvement Chronicles: The Extermination
tented: the circus came to town, or maybe just to my house. but this circus didn't feature elephants riding around on tricycles, only termites being gassed to death under the big tent.
kill 'em all! props to Terminix for bringing the poison, though it would have been nice if they also brought a keg and maybe some pizza.
wondering if they sell these as stickers: because i'd probably get a few to stick all over the new plywood subflooring.
praying they don't find a cat in there: Terminix told me to warn my neighbors with curious kitties that the big tent would be coming. he said the amount of dead cats they find in tents is astronomical. i did my best to warn the neighbors but still felt anxious as hell throughout the three-day fumigation that a cat would wiggle in, die and kill my chances of making nice with my new neighbors.
send in the clowns: this better do the trick.
Labels: home, home improvement
