My dog the fly catcher

I don't own a fly-swatter. I haven't owned one for years. I have a fly catcher instead: my dog.

Aussie is very very good at catching flies. Her patience amazes me. So does her fixation. She'll sit and stare at where a fly is, waiting for it to fly close enough to her, and then she'll leap up and catch it in her mouth. No joke. Remember that scene in the Karate Kid where Mr. Miyagi sits very very still and then catches the fly with his chopsticks? Yeah. Substitute my dog for Mr. Miyagi and her mouth for the chopsticks and you've got it. It's incredible.

The one issue is that she fixates. Seriously fixates. I ate chips and she didn't even move because she was so focused on the corner where the fly was. Normally she'd be lying in wait for dropped crumbs, but Aussie didn't even flick an ear as I crunched down. I've been known to have a hard time getting her to leave the fly long enough to eat dinner. After dinner, she'll return to the same place and position and wait to catch the damn fly.

More than once, she has failed to catch the fly before it's time for bed. I drag (literally drag) her away from watching it so we can go upstairs to bed. What amazes me even more, is the next morning she'll go back to the place she last saw the fly and look for it!! It's kind of scary, actually.

Basically the only way she stops looking for it is either, a) she catches it, or b) she gives up. Aussie doesn't give up easily. Anyone that's played tug-of-war with my dog knows she's as stubborn as I am (and I'm really stubborn). So she'll keep looking for that fly, checking periodically for it's reappearance, for a good 24 hours before she actually gives up. This means constant vigilance on her part. She'll check the corner where she last saw it, and keep and eye out for it flying around, do something else, but then go back and check the corner again. Every time she leaves the room and then returns she'll check the corner. She fixates. It blows my mind, and sometimes worries me just a little bit.

But, ultimately, I have no flies in my house. So I'm not complaining.

Ask and ye shall receive...

My friend L has left Philly and returned home (this is sad, but we're surviving...for now. I'll go for a visit soon). Over the weekend, we were discussing how it was great that Brave Combo had been here (see post) and that now Ozomatli needed to come do a show so that all would be right with my world.

Well, ask and ye shall receive!

OZOMATLI IS COMING TO PHILLY!!!

They're playing at the World Cafe Live Downstairs venue on Tuesday, April 24th. I will be there. Front and center, dancing my little heart out.

I'm so beyond excited I can hardly sit still.

Monday...King Tut and food

L and I got up at a decent hour today, knowing that we actually had someplace to be. I had purchased tickets to the King Tut exhibit at the Franklin Institute earlier this month. The tickets give you a half-hour window to enter the exhibit, and in order to get a decent time, I bought them 2 weeks ago.

We did some investigation, and discovered that one of the SEPTA buses actually took us directly to the Museum District. In the interest of not wanting to repeat our previous parking nightmares, and since it was Monday and we'd have to worry about feeding a meter or pay out the nose to park in a garage, we decided the bus was a good plan. Of course, we arrived at the bus stop only to learn that the bus we wanted had passed by about 5 minutes prior, which meant a 15 minute wait for the next one. Oh well. A fifteen minute wait is still infinitely better than an hour circling for parking while getting increasingly frustrated.

L and I arrived at the Franklin Institute a good hour before our King Tut exhibit entrance window, so we decided to explore the museum a bit. The Franklin Institute is a science museum, with various permanent exhibits like the Giant Heart and one all about Ben Franklin and his lesser known inventions. Much of it is hands on, and since it was a weekday, there were school groups everywhere. L and I explored and played with some of the hands-on exhibits, dodging small children. We eventually made our way close to the King Tut exhibit entrance and wandered through the gift shop until, finally, our entrance window time arrived.

L and I were both very excited to see the King Tut exhibit. The exhibit itself did not disappoint. The artifacts were incredible, and despite our dismay that the actual sarcophagus was no longer part of the traveling exhibit (damaged during the tour early on), we thoroughly enjoyed it. We did have a few complaints, however, including too many people. It was very crowded for a Monday afternoon and crowds can be very aggravating. I know the exhibit entrance windows had a goal to space the number of people in the exhibit out, but there were a lot of people allowed in during each window. I can't tell you how many times we were bumped by a stroller or a wheelchair or hit by a giant purse/bag. Or how many times people stepped in front of us to get a closer look at an artifact in one of the glass cases, effectively blocking everyone's view, because, apparently, they are more important than the other 6 people trying to see the artifact. It was crowded. The only other issue was the weird lighting. In an effort to spotlight the artifacts in the cases, often there was no other light in that specific gallery, making it very dark and causing people to bump into each other and into the walls. The spotlights also created weird glaring, often making it difficult to read the signs on the display cases.

But overall it was beautiful, and well worth the time and crowd aggravation. Our friend LP is very pissed at us, being the big Egypt fan she is, so we bought her a souvenir...a finger puppet.

After a brief trip home to walk and feed Aussie, we left again, this time by car, to find food. For dinner we decided to try a vegetarian Chinese place recommended by a co-worker: Su Xing House. It was incredible. Great atmosphere: calming, peaceful. Just the kind of environment needed after a typical Philly parking space quest. Excellent service. Amazing food. HUGE portions. HUGE. We only got one appetizer to share and one entree apiece. And I have leftovers that are going to feed me for the rest of the week. Pictures of the before (appetizer, entree, and entree) and the post-stuffing-our-faces-carnage are available for your viewing pleasure.

So after our delicious dinner, we decided we had enough space in our tummies and went in search of dessert. We had passed this place several times during our various quests for parking during the weekend, and the name spoke to us. The Naked Chocolate Cafe. We needed to investigate.

SweetJesusHolyMaryMotherOfGod.

Chocolate. Heavenly chocolate. Chocolate orgasms in our mouths. Serious chocolate. L had a Mocha Fudge Cake with a glass of milk to wash it down. I had a Spicy Hot Chocolate (size: indulgence) and a cupcake. They even provided real whipped cream on the Mocha Fudge Cake and hot chocolate. And they gave me a spoon to eat my hot chocolate with. Yes, I ATE my hot chocolate with a spoon. It's too thick to drink...hot chocolate European style, or, chocolate with a splash of milk to make it liquid. I needed the spoon. And it was good. It was very very good. L didn't finish her Mocha Fudge Cake, it was just too much for her. That's sayin' something.

We're now both in a chocolate coma and must go to bed to sleep it off.

Sunday...downtown Philly

So once again, L and I slept in a bit late. This time we can blame it on our late night of Latin dancing the night before. Regardless, we had a late start to our day. Once we both got coffee in us, and showered, we felt human enough to head down into Philly's downtown, known as Center City.

Foolishly, we decided to drive. Our thought process went like this: it's Sunday, free parking is a possibility, and public transit near me doesn't go directly into Center City so we would have had to mess with transfers, etc., so driving is a better bet. Foolish us. Foolish foolish us. We spent an hour, a full HOUR, driving in circles looking for parking. We didn't even care if we had to walk, we were planning on walking the city anyway, all we wanted was a parking spot that didn't say "Tow Zone" or handicapped. Yeah. Never again. Next time I think I'll just deal with public transit.

By the time we finally found parking and made our way to the Reading Terminal Market for some "lunch" it was almost 3pm and we were both starving. L found a stall specializing in vegetarian food, and decided to get some sweet potato fries. I went in search of something else and found some sushi. It was quite tasty, but that may have been the hunger talking. By the time I had found the sushi stall, ordered my rolls, received them, and eaten almost all of it, L still did not have her sweet potato fries. I was starting to wonder if they had to peel and slice the whole sweet potatoes to make the fries.

When she found me sitting at the counter, she was empty handed. What happened? Apparently the woman had forgotten them and they had burnt so she was going to have make another batch. WTF?? Forgotten them? Is this a joke? Unfortunately, no. L, being starving and cranky, told the woman to just give her the money back and walked away. By the time L found me, she had hit "feed me or I will kill you" stage of hunger so we quickly walked through the remainder of the market to find something vegetarian (no small feat). L ended up with a vegetarian gyro that wasn't all that good, but it did pull her out of homicidal mode so the world was safe again.

On our way out of the market (almost 4pm, and the stalls were closing up), we came upon the Flying Monkey. The Flying Monkey has cupcakes. Yummy cupcakes. We enjoyed a vanilla pound cake cupcake with chocolate filling and butter cream frosting. OMG. A mini-orgasm in our mouth. Cupcake heaven. A picture of the cupcake carnage can be seen here. I can't say that it was better or worse than the cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery in NYC because they are two completely different kinds of cupcakes, both with their own place in cupcake heaven.

Our bellies now full and content, we hit the pavement, with the goal of heading East and then South, meandering our way down towards the intersection 6th Street and South Street. We walked down Market Street to the Independence National Historical Park, home of the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, which runs along 6th Street. We started at the Liberty Bell. We had to go through security to see the Liberty Bell, which was just like airport security, except while I still had to take off my belt, at least I got to keep my shoes on. We timed our visit perfectly, and were able to get some great photos without a lot of people around. After we exited the Liberty Bell building, we headed South along 6th Street to Independence Hall. Unfortunately, we could no longer enter the actual building (no more tickets for today), so we contented ourselves with walking around the outside in the very nice park that surrounds it.

Philly being a very historical city, there are even more historical sites to behold on either side of the Park. We saw the Curtis Center, a piece of publishing history, and Library Hall, home to Ben Franklin's American Philosophical Society's library. We continued South on 6th to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, located in Washington Square. Our heads full of history, our stomachs called again, and we left history behind in search of food.

A colleague had told me about this place on 6th Street that had great vegetarian cheese steaks. Ummm, ok, we'll give it a shot. So we went in search of Gianna's Grille. Sure enough, while the menu includes all the standard cheese steak and traditional meat favorites, it also has a very extensive selection of vegetarian options, all of which can be "veganized" if desired. We opted to split a GG Special (the vegetarian cheese steak) and an order of Krabby Fries (basic fries but with Old Bay Seasoning, a childhood favorite of mine). While waiting to order, our eyes were drawn to a case at the end of the counter that boasted "All treats are vegan" and contained a delicious array of cakes and cannolis. So we added two cupcakes to our order. We had to test them against our earlier experience of cupcake heaven and see how they stacked up.

Our food arrived, and we were really glad we split the vegetarian cheese steak. And it was fantastic. FANTASTIC. We couldn't even finish it all, so we wrapped up the remaining cheese steaks and fries, to be eaten as a snack or lunch tomorrow. And we took the cupcakes to go. Being only a block from South Street, we decided a nice walk was in order to walk off some of the very large and very very tasty meal we just had.

South Street is an eclectic blend of shops and restaurants and cafes with an equally eclectic bunch of people wandering around. It was great fun to walk while window shopping and people watching. After about a half hour of walking up and down South Street, we made our way back to the car. Aussie was waiting at home and needed to be fed and walked.

Once the dog was taken care of, we decided to be brave and venture out again, this time to Sisters for an adult beverage and conversation. Foolishly, again, we decided to drive in. After circling for parking for a good fifteen minutes, praying to the parking gods, we realized we were praying to the wrong gender. As soon as we changed to praying to the parking goddess, a parking spot became available. Thank you thank you thank you parking goddess. We will never pray to the wrong gender again. The late night of dancing followed by a day of walking caught up with us and we made it an early night, only hanging out at Sisters for a little over an hour.

We made it home without incident, and returned home to find that the parking goddess was still smiling upon us and the parking space we had vacated when we left was miraculously still available. After walking the dog one last time, we decided we needed a bedtime snack of leftover Krabby Fries and our vegan cupcakes. Aussie laid in wait in her usual spot, waiting for crumbs to drop.

We demolished the remainder of the fries, and moved onto the vegan cupcakes. Wow. Quite tasty. Not quite as heavenly as the Flying Monkey cupcake earlier (not much beats butter cream frosting), but if we hadn't known they were vegan cupcakes, we never would have believe it. All in all, an excellent way to end the day.

Tomorrow's plan includes a visit to another vegetarian recommendations and the King Tut touring exhibit.

Saturday...Latin dancing!

So my friend L and I had a low key day yesterday during the day. We slept in a bit, and didn't manage to get out of the house until around 1pm, at which point we went in search of food. We ended up at an Indian place called New Delhi. Good buffet, with dessert included, and not too far from me.

Once our bellies were full, we headed out to the mall. I know this sounds like an odd thing to do with a visitor, but L wanted to search for some jeans, and my birthday gift to her was a gift card to her favorite store. And it is Borders Educator Appreciation Weekend (25 percent off your total bill for educators...a very very good deal). L needed a book to read on the plane since she finished the one she had on her way here, and I wanted to pick up some children's books for my friends' kids and a couple of Philly travel guides. We ended up at King of Prussia Mall because it had both L's store and Borders. And we spent way way to long wandering around the mall. The place is huge. Massive. To the point of overwhelming. We limited ourselves to only the part that had Borders and her store, and we still spent a good 4 hours walking around. I've never been much of a mallrat, but I can imagine that King of Prussia Mall is a mallrat's wet dream.

We finally found our way back to the car, and headed home to change, walk and feed the dog, and prepare to head out for some Latin dancing. We did some research earlier in the day to pick a place to go, and chose Cafe Habana. It's a Cuban restaurant near Rittenhouse Square in Center City. We read some reviews, and they serve dinner until around 10pm, and starting at 11pm, they turn the restaurant into a Latin club until 2am. And every review we read talked about how amazing the mojitos are. We must investigate this claim, we decided. L and I both love to dance, and Latin is a particular favorite.

So we found our way to Cafe Habana, and ordered a coupe of mojitos. Wow. Yes, the mojitos are FABULOUS. Authentic, made with fresh mint, fresh lime juice, and they don't skimp on the rum. While we sipped our drinks, we watched the dancers. Again, wow. Suddenly, we felt slightly out of our league. There were some amazing dancers. Just amazing. We both admitted that looking that good is something we dream about.

We looked around, and realized that we were definitely in the minority, being a couple of gringas, and all the other gringos and gringas were somehow connected with the Hispanics there. Well then, it's not the first time we've been in that situation and it probably won't be the last. So we continued to drink our mojitos, and watch the dancers. Eventually, we both got asked to dance, as it usually happens in Latin clubs, and had a blast. The music was great, a good mix, although sometimes the DJ switched through the songs too fast, so that just as you found your groove on one song, he was already mixing into another song. But he played a nice blend of salsa, merengue, some pop music (Shakira, my favorite, I'm a long time fan) and reggaeton. L's only complaint was the lack of bachata music, which is one of her favorites. Overall, a great night. Fabulous mojitos, good music, and some dancing.

But now it's Sunday, and our plan is to head downtown and wander for the afternoon. The only fallout from last night is that it's been a slow start to our day again, but oh well, it's not like we have any appointments to keep.

I've got company for the weekend!

So one of my best friends from where I used to live is coming to visit me in Philly this weekend. YAY YAY YAY for visitors! I do love having people visit me, and since this is the weekend after my birthday, it's even better. L and I will be celebrating her birthday (which is in February but I couldn't attend her party) and my birthday this weekend. All weekend. Three days of celebrating each other and our friendship. I can guarantee the weekend will include lots of laughter, plenty of silliness, a cornucopia of food, and some dancing. I'm not expecting to get a lot of sleep but I am expecting to have a lot of fun!

L and I met shortly after I moved to my previous city of residence (PCOR for short) and really hit it off. We became fast friends; one of those people you meet and just click with instantly. I can honestly say that when I think of my five best friends, she's one of them. My godmother always said that if you have five people you can say are true friends that accept you and love you through it all, you're very lucky and more than blessed in life.

And yes, this is the same L of the "trust me" fame. She said that to me a lot over the 5 years I lived there, and introduced me to some amazing people, incredible music, delicious food, and most of the excellent things my PCOR had to offer. Now it's my turn to say "trust me" to her as we gallivant around Philly for the weekend.

We will be eating our way across Philly. If you couldn't tell from my posts about New York City, part of really experiencing a city for me is experiencing the food it has to offer and fortunately L agrees. I haven't had a chance to do much experiencing yet, so I'm looking forward to exploring my new city a little bit more this weekend both in it's food options and the city in general as well. Visitors are an excellent opportunity to play tourist in your own city. And we plan to do just that.

Happy Birthday to me

Today is my birthday. The past week has been a good mail week. The bills aren't coming yet, AND I got birthday mail (cards and even a few packages).

Besides going out to dinner (or this year, lunch) and maybe even dancing with friends, I don't do much to celebrate my birthday anymore besides talk on the phone with all my relatives. Yes, pretty much all my relatives. In one night. I have several bottles of water and beer chilling in the fridge in anticipation. The water is to prevent hoarseness and the beer is to self-medicate afterwards. [Mom, Dad, don't worry, I'm just kidding about the self medicating part...sort of.]

My good friend JM and I share the same birthday but different years. So when I lived in the same city as her we did joint dinners to celebrate, especially since our circles of friends overlapped greatly (we worked in the same place). Easier for everyone, including us, that way. One year we even got each other the same thing...call it an exchange of the gift cards. And we were both quite happy with our gift to each other, too.

I think celebrating, or at least acknowledging, birthdays is important. Everyone needs to be reminded that someone in the world is happy about and celebrating the fact that they were born. Even when the person would rather forget that it's their birthday because it's a milestone and they're turning 30, 40, 50, whatever. My friend EH used to always miss my birthday. At one point, he was a good 6 months off! It's not that he forgot, just that he had it written down wrong (someday I'll tell you more about his "calendar" consisting of post-it notes and scraps of paper taped to the window frame in college, no joke). He was so sheepish and cute about it. But frankly, the fact that he was off by months didn't bother me, because he just wanted me to know he was happy I was alive, and that's what really mattered. Physical gift or card or not, reminding someone that you're happy they were born is a gift in itself.

My mother used to take this acknowledgment to a whole new level. In college she took to calling me 36 hours before I was born to remind me that's when she started labor AND how long she labored AND that this was after I was already several weeks late AND she did it all without drugs BUT in the end it I was worth it. Talk about the ultimate in mother guilt trips. That would buy any parent a few weeks of good behavior. Apparently I did not want to be born. My theory is that my parents watched the news and I heard all this stuff about the world and decided that it was much nicer in my little space in my mom's belly. Seriously, given the choice, would you have been born?

But born I was, the initial delay notwithstanding. And now I'm another year older. Whether or not I'm wiser as well is open to interpretation, although I hope I learned a thing or two and maybe even grew as a person this past year. But for now I'm just going to celebrate being born and go eat some chocolate. My colleague's daughter, a toddler, equates birthdays with chocolate cake. I think she's a very wise little girl. Because today is a day I can eat as much chocolate as I want without the guilt. Just because it's my birthday, dammit.

Observation

Walking through half-melted ice and snow, mixed with a healthy dose of slush, is very much like walking through soft sand.

And after a good mile of it on my walk home, my legs are tired.

Things that are absurd

First, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Even if you aren't Irish. I, however, am at least 1/3 Irish, and probably more. I will be having a nice traditional dinner of corned beef. I'd have cabbage and potatoes as well (combined into yummy colcannon), but unfortunately, I don't have either one and I'm not going out again today.

Yesterday Winter decided to throw a last temper tantrum. The first day of Spring is in less than a week, and apparently Winter wanted to be remembered. So it started by raining, which then became sleet, which then alternated with snow until the wee hours of the morning. And it's supposed to snow again tonight. Yeah. So to go anywhere today, I had to dig my car out, which took a good hour. And then get out of my parking spot. Considering they don't really plow the roads here, getting out of a parking spot and driving can be a bit difficult. But I managed. I have a Subaru. I love my car.

Once I got moving, I had two important errands for the day. One, to get my Pennsylvania driver's license and two, to submit my paperwork to renew my passport. The first item was easy. Technically, I was a bit late and it should have been done months ago, but I had to wait until the identity theft situation was taken care of. Now that my record is clean, I could get rid of my previous state's driver's license. And fortunately, even though my passport is technically expired, it only expired in January so it was still a valid proof of citizenship and identity for the folks at PennDot. So, with my old driver's license, along with 2 utility bills to prove residence, and my Social Security Card and my passport to prove citizenship and identity, I had a Pennsylvania driver's license in about an hour. Not bad. Apparently the terrible road conditions from yesterday's bad weather kept a lot of people away so it wasn't that busy. I didn't even have to take a test since my old license is current and I have no outstanding violations (I have NO violations, none, nada, thankyouverymuch). My picture isn't that bad either.

So now that I had the new license, onto item number 2, the passport renewal. With the new laws requiring a passport for ALL travel out of the country, even to Canada and Mexico, the passport agencies are swamped. So it's going to take a good 8-10 weeks for me to get my renewed passport. Good thing I'm not going anywhere.

I filled out all the paperwork, got my 2 photos (not all that great, but not terrible), wrote the check for the renewal fee, and proceeded to the post office, which is the closest passport processing center (and possibly the only one in Philly open on Saturday). I had a package to pick up, so I did that first and then went and got in the passport processing line. After waiting in line for a good 30 minutes, I learned that in order to hand my renewal form to a person, I'd have to pay an additional fee of 30 dollars. What? Um, I don't think so. Especially since I'm eligible to renew by mail. So I go and get back in the line I was in earlier when I picked up my package to mail my forms, complete with delivery confirmation.

Here's the rub. I paid 4 dollars and 55 cents to (priority) mail my passport renewal with delivery confirmation to a post office box in the same building.
In.
The.
Same.
Building.

Absurd. Just absurd.

Do a little polka

I'm tired today from being either up too late or up too early every day this week, and the weather is nasty (winter is in it's death throes), but it's Friday and I have fun polka music running through my head.

Last night I saw Brave Combo in concert. They're a "polka" band from Denton, Texas. Well, they are a Grammy award winning contemporary polka band, but they're so much more than that. They fuse polka with a variety of music genres, and they also take traditional tunes and songs from other genres and turn them into polkas. I often describe them as "polka on acid" or something to that effect.

How did I end up being a fan of a polka band, you ask? Well, my friend L called me one day and informed me (I was not asked, I was told) that I had plans the following week on Thursday.
Me: OK, what?
L: We're going to see Brave Combo.
Me: Who?
L: A polka band.
Me: What? You've lost your mind right? And you're messing with me, right?
L: NO. [laughing] I'm completely serious. You'll love it. Trust me.

So I trusted her. And she was right. I loved it. I polka danced the night away and went into work the next day tired and sore and humming salsa tunes done "Brave Combo style" (aka turned into polkas). What you need to know is that this is not the first conversation I had with L that ended in her telling me "trust me". And I had learned that trusting her was a good thing, as we always had a good time and she had yet to steer me wrong. She had, after all, introduced me to Ozomatli (an awesome band that I'm a HUGE fan of now), taken me to the local international festival and introduced me to many other local greats. So I trust her when she says "trust me" and wow, what a blast!

When I saw Brave Combo was coming to Philly, I KNEW I HAD TO GO. I had to represent. I also had to continue the tradition of dragging some poor unsuspecting soul along, much like L did to me, and L and I did to my friend J and our friend S. So I called my new friend M, and we had the "trust me" conversation and she agreed, but not without some trepidation. This was, after all, our first "trust me" situation.

Well, her trepidation was not warranted. We had a blast and she is now a Brave Combo fan. Even bought their Christmas CD (yes, Christmas carols as polkas - brilliant!).

They played at World Cafe Live!, a great venue here in Philly. It was a great place to see a show, plenty of space, good sound, and good food. And it was a typical Brave Combo show, if you can call them typical (which, honestly, you really can't).

They played all the greats, including the "Hava Nagila Twist" (always a crowd favorite), and two of their classics: the Hokey Pokey and chicken dance, both done Brave Combo style. They played my favorite song "Do Something Different (Diappear)" and they did some salsa, some cumbia, a little swing and a few twists, and included some Chicago-style and Cincinnati-style polkas. Oh, and a few medleys for good measure. The only awkward point was when they forgot to turn Ann Marie's mike on when it was her turn to sing, but Carl stopped them an we had a mike check interlude, which was entertaining in it's own right. One of the best things about Brave Combo is their casual attitude and interaction with the audience. They make the experience personal and fun for everyone, even if you don't dance. Although not dancing to the Hokey Pokey or the chicken dance is a crime.

So, pop on over to their web site and check them out. I took a couple of photos and put them up on Flickr (here and here), but be prepared, the quality is pretty bad since they were taken with my cell phone's camera and the lighting wasn't all that great (well, it's a bar, what do you expect?).

The great carpet debacle, part three: the END

They finished the carpet today. Showed up at 6:00 am and got it done by 10:00 am. My landlord was here to supervise. They even put all the furniture back where they were supposed to. And Aussie survived, although she was NOT happy to go in her kennel while there were strange people in her house.

I called him on Tuesday night to confirm that they were showing up the next morning. Also to let him know there was only one roll of padding and I needed "kick strips" where the carpet meets the hallway floor. Yes, he said, they're still coming, he's already on the supplies, BUT they want to get started an hour earlier than planned. If you remember, the original start time was 7:00 am, right before I would be leaving for work, and now they want to start at 6:00 AM. An unGODly hour. I normally get up between 5:30 and 6:00 am. But fine, get here and get it done. I'm willing to get up super-early because I want my house back.

So I spent Tuesday night taking apart my bedroom, moving anything I could into the guest room. First thing in the morning, after my shower, I unmade my bed, folding up all the sheets and piling them into the guest room as well so all that was left was my mattress.

Now tonight I get to put my bedroom back together and remake the bed. It's been a long day. I was at work a good 45 minutes earlier than normal (startling my staff, I think). I usually have only one cup of coffee in the morning, but today I needed a refill. But I have new carpet. And there's nothing living in my upstairs hallway anymore.

I have my house back.

[Insert relieved sigh]

Trying to find something positive in the midst of technology hell

My world has been full of technology related frustrations lately. I love technology when it works the way it's supposed to. But when it doesn't work it has the ability to bring me to my knees and make my life hell for hours until I figure out the problem and get it fixed and that is even if it is fixable.

I don't call a help line until I've exhausted everything I can think of and run all the tests and searched all the help files painstakingly. Then and only then will I call the help line. I've spent hours on the phone with help lines, usually connected to someone that's not even in the same country and who's troubleshooting ability is limited to the screen in front of them. They all have programs and scripts they follow, and if it's not on their screen, then they don't know what to do. Usually, I've already tried everything they suggest and then they make me do again, waisting my time. Apparently they make you repeat things that you've already done because their program moves to the next screen only after they enter a value or specific phrase from your continued error results to tell it what screen is next. I know they get paid for it, so ultimately, it's only waisting MY time. And ultimately, the conclusion their program tells them is the SAME thing I told them when we first started hours ago. I've come to expect it, but that doesn't mean I like it or even think it makes sense, because, let's be honest here, it doesn't make sense.

Last night I spent almost two hours on the phone with the people that make my wireless router trying to find out why my router lost all of my data. ALL of my data. The network I set up in August disappeared overnight. Gone. All my personal settings, logins, everything, gone. Poof. And after those 2 hours on the phone, going through every test available in their little computer help programs they read from, they still didn't have an answer for me. So I had to set the wireless network up again, which naturally took another hour because that's just how things work in my world.

This past Saturday night I lost the data in my PDA. I had to install updates to the software because Daylight Saving Time started 3 weeks early due to an act of Congress (in an effort to save electricity, apparently). So I followed the instructions, and, well, it all disappeared. Gone. Poof. I had backups for some of it, but not all it. I sync my PDA with my Yahoo! contacts and calendar, but not everything transfers. So I was able to re-sync Yahoo! with my PDA and restore some of the data, but I lost quite a bit of it. Most notably, I lost all my meeting locations and any birthdays I had entered into my PDA contacts list. The meeting locations are also in a work calendar, so I can deal with those. Stupidly, however, I had not written down those all important birthdays anywhere else. So I've had to put a call out to my friends who's birthdays I couldn't find anywhere else asking them tell me again what day they were born and now I have to re-enter all of that data.

Teach me to trust technology. Paper trail. The all important paper trail. I forgot it's importance for a moment and I got spanked for it. Damn.

In the midst of my technology related frustrations, I did have one positive technology experience. I finally got a new cell phone. Same number, because apparently there is no way to put a forwarding message on a cell phone number if you change it (you know, those "this number has changed, the new number is..." recordings? yeah, not an option), but a new phone. It's sleek. It's black and silver. It has a camera (shoe abominations, look out, I can now document your existence at any time) and even video. It's kind of sexy, actually, all sleek and black and ultra-slim (about a half inch thick at most). Fits nicely in my pocket. Even better, it has a nice long battery life.

Anyway, I decided to try the online "contact list backup" program offered by my wireless carrier in an effort to not lose anyone in the phone transition and to avoid the possibility of having to re-enter all my contacts by hand. It's a simple enough program. You create an account and basically the system uploads your contacts to the online account and gives you a web interface (which is also much easier for editing purposes). You then set up regularly scheduled backups that sync the list of contacts in your phone with the list online. If you make online edits, they get downloaded to your phone and vice versa. If something happens to your phone, you can download that list from the online account back into your phone. So when I got my new phone, I told it to download my contacts and poof! There they were. Easy. I printed out the list "just in case" for nothing, apparently. It worked the way it was supposed to and made my life easier.

Now isn't that the point of technology, to make life easier?

The great carpet debacle, part two: this weekend

So part one of the great carpet debacle brings us to today. Sunday. And it begins again. To refresh your memory, my landlady, the handyman and I agreed during a phone conversation this past Wednesday evening that the handyman would be here at 11am to start work.

At 11:20am the handyman calls me and tells me he's running late (big surprise, this is NOT new) and he'll be here "within the hour." Fine.

Noon comes and goes. 12:30pm comes and goes. And then 1pm comes and goes. I start having flashbacks to last weekend when he was 8 hours late. I can't stand it. I'm going to lose my mind. I start pacing and muttering, once again scaring the dog. Aussie goes and hides in her kennel, preparing for my inevitable verbal explosion. Smart dog.

At 1:30pm I call my landlady. She's not available so I'm put through to her partner. He says he'll call and find out what's up. 1:40pm he calls back, tells me the handyman had a family emergency (wait...isn't that last weekend's excuse?!) and would be here in 20 minutes. OK, that's 2:00pm. He also tells me the handyman is supposed to call him when he shows up.

At 2:20pm I start cursing. In several languages. The inevitable verbal explosion has begun. Aussie continues to hide in her kennel. Definitely a smart dog.

At 2:30pm I call my landlady's partner and tell him that the handyman still isn't here. And that I'm done with waiting this weekend and the handyman as a whole and new arrangements need to be made because this is ridiculous and completely unacceptable. I don't want to deal with this handyman anymore at all, not just for this project of the new carpet but for anything in the future as well. I'm tired of the lack of communication from the handyman and his perpetual lateness. I just can't deal with it and I shouldn't have to. Period. This second weekend has crossed the line and I'm done. My patience with the handyman is gone. He agrees and tells me he'll call me back with the new plans.

At 2:45pm the handyman shows up to work. Are you f*cking kidding me?!?! He's 4 hours late. Four hours. So he starts work on the office, which I'd really like to have back in this lifetime. And I told him to NOT do anything in the bedroom. Just get the office done and get out. I'm not exactly polite. Aussie comes out of her kennel and gives him a piece of her mind. She starts following me around the house, and watches the handyman whenever he leaves the vicinity of the office.

At 3:00pm my landlady's partner calls back. He's surprised the handyman is here, because apparently he didn't call him like he was supposed to. He tells me to go ahead and have him work, so I can at least have my office back. He also tells me I won't have to deal with this handyman in the future, and that he's done with the handyman too. Even though I don't particularly want him here now, I agree to let him work because I want my office back. And I thank him for understanding that I don't want to deal with this handyman in the future.

He also wants to schedule someone during the week (someone new) to re-carpet bedroom. Assures me either he or my landlady will be here to supervise. I say fine, but I need at least 24 hours notice to prepare the room. I explain that I cannot move the furniture myself so to make arrangements to move stuff when he plans for the carpet. And the dog has to go in her kennel for the day. Aussie is NOT going to be happy to have people in the house when I'm not home AND be stuck in her kennel during it. But in the interest of getting my house back, I agree to it. I want this done. I want the carpet and supplies OUT of my hallway.

I want my house back, dammit.

I can't say I was nice or really even polite to the handyman while he was here working. Not mean or overtly rude to him, but definitely NOT friendly. I guess you could describe my behavior as curt. Terse. Abrupt. Brief. Even rudely brief. Basically, I've just ignored him, only talking to him when necessary or if he has something to tell me. I'm not necessarily proud of the fact that I haven't been all that polite, but my control on my temper and my patience with him is thin at best right now. So in the interest at not losing it altogether, I'm ignoring him and being rather curt when we do have to interact.

At 11:15pm the handyman finally finishes laying the carpet, cleans up and leaves. Yes, it's after 11pm on a Sunday night. That's way way past my bedtime because I have to be up by 6:00am to get to work. But I have my office back. Now comes the fun part - putting everything back in it. I'll leave that for tomorrow night. Right now I need to make my bed and get some sleep.

And the latest from my landlady's partner on the rest of the carpet (which is still living in my hallway)? The bedroom will be done on Wednesday. They'll be here at 7:00am. Thank the heavens. This should all be over soon.

The great carpet debacle, part one: last weekend

As many of you know, I'm getting new carpet in two of my rooms. These rooms already have carpet. Carpet that needed to be replaced or seriously cleaned before I moved in. The carpet in my office is supposed to be pink. It's not. It's puce, or brownish-pink at best. My bedroom has black carpet (black, in a bedroom, I know, awful), which is filthy and has paint and sticky spots. My mom spent 30 minutes getting the gum out of one spot when she was here because I just couldn't deal. What's worse, it doesn't fit the floor. It was obviously a remnant because at one end of the floor there's a good 6-8 inch gap to the wall. And neither one was actually properly laid. There's no glue, no padding, no tack strips, and it just lays against the walls...the molding wasn't pulled up so it lays on top of it in parts. Whatever, it's a rental. But the cleaning of it, yeah, that needed to happen.

So my landlady came and checked it out. She decided that it was in bad enough shape that for her interests, laying new carpet would be better. Great! Fabulous! She chose a charcoal gray obviously industrial carpet. Good quality, it will last, and who am I to complain? Remember, it's a rental.

Last weekend the new carpet was supposed to be laid. Here's the proposed chain of events:
Friday night - remove old carpet from office, prepare space for laying new carpet on Saturday
Saturday - new carpet in office, then move to bedroom
Sunday - clean up and do finishing touches

It didn't happen.

Not only did it not happen, but things went horribly wrong. Horribly. Friday night, my landlady's handyman calls at 6pm, when he's supposed to be here, and tells me he's running late, but will be here within the hour. Fine. Friday night traffic, whatever, I can deal with that. I'll just eat dinner and wait. And wait. And wait.

He doesn't show up until 9pm. Needless to say, no work got done, but the new carpet and some supplies were dropped off and he "checked things out" to see what needed to be done. We set a time for him to be here on Saturday morning: between 10 and 11am. Not too early, it is Saturday after all, and that gives me enough time to run an errand to the post office.

Saturday morning. I get up, run my errand, and arrive back home by 9:30am. I take the dog for a longer walk, and then wait. At 10:30am I call the handyman to let him know I'm home and waiting. He tells me he's just getting up (what? you were supposed to BE here by now, but ok) and would be here within the hour. Fine.

Noon comes and goes. 1pm comes and goes. I attempt to reach him at 1:30pm and don't get through, not even to voice mail. 2pm and then 3pm comes and goes. I'm still waiting and rapidly losing my patience.

At 3:30pm I've lost my patience. I haven't heard anything from the handyman, and he's not here. So I call my landlady and fill her in on what's going on. I stress the fact that what I'm most upset about is the lack of communication. I have stuff to do. If he had called and told me he would be late, I could have taken care of a few things instead of sitting here on my butt at the house waiting. She's not happy either. She wants the carpet done so she can move on to other projects. The laying of my carpet is just the first of many things that need to be done to her properties. She says she'll call the handyman and get back to me.

At 4pm my landlady called back. Handyman had an emergency (family related), and will call me and show up to start work within the hour.

4:30pm the handyman calls. Makes lots of excuses. Whatever. I really don't care. What I care about is the lack of common courtesy shown me. When you're going to be late, you call. Duh. So what it comes down to is that someone needed to call me and let me know that he was going to be late. And not just late, but over 5 hours late at this point. He asks me if I can "salvage" the day. It's 4:40pm on a Saturday. Um, no. It's a bit late for that. My errands will have to wait until tomorrow. He says he'll be here within the hour. I don't believe him at this point, but say, fine, and hang up.

5:30pm comes and goes. 6pm comes and goes and so does 6:30pm.

At 6:45pm I call my landlady a second time and leave a message that he's STILL NOT here. I stress that once again, the lack of communication is the real problem. And at this point, we've moved into the realm of UNACCEPTABLE. This needs to be dealt with. I ask her to call me back so we can discuss the situation and figure out what needs to happen.

6:55pm the handyman calls. He's in the neighborhood and wants to drop stuff off. OK. Fine. Drop it off and then get out of my house. At 7:00pm he drops the stuff off and proceeds to give me more excuses. Not only did he have a family emergency [Note: said emergency occurred at around 1pm, a full 2 hours after he was supposed to be here], but he just "couldn't get going" today. Apparently the full moon affects him because he's a Cancer. If you believe in astrology and know this about yourself, then you should know better than to make commitments on days you know you'll be affected. Duh. And ultimately, SOMEONE NEEDED TO CALL ME. I tell him I'll call the landlady and reschedule.

At 7:10 he leaves. I scream. Literally scream at the top of my lungs. For a good 5 to 10 minutes. It scares the dog. Aussie goes and hides in her kennel she's so frightened by me screaming like that (doesn't happen very often, obviously). I'm so frustrated I can hardly stand it. I've taken my office apart, everything is back in boxes, my modem is living in my hallway, and I now carpet, padding, tack strips and supplies have taken up residence in my upstairs hallway. For at least another week until he comes back next weekend to actually do some work. I spent 8 hours on a gorgeous Saturday waiting for someone to show up and do work and it didn't happen. If he was my contractor, I would have fired him by the time I called my landlady at 3:30 and would have called someone else in to do the work. You don't just not show up for a job and expect to get paid. Seriously.

Sunday I call my landlady and leave a message, reiterating that we need to talk about what happened and figure out what happens now.

Monday night my landlady calls and we talk about what happened. I stress AGAIN that the real problem is the lack of communication. And that the handyman is perpetually late. PERPETUALLY. I'm always waiting for him. We're not talking 30 minutes, we're talking hours late. HOURS LATE. And it has to stop. I can't deal with it anymore. She agrees. She also agrees that if he knows the full moon affects his ability to "get up and get going," he should make appropriate arrangements and not plan things that day. She tells me she'll call him and have a conversation and then she'll let me know what's up. She also thanks me for my patience and for dealing with things so calmly. She didn't hear me scream on Saturday night.

Tuesday she leaves me a message that she was still trying to get a hold of the handyman. Wednesday night she calls, tells me she has him there, and that we're going to try this again Sunday. We agree to 11am on Sunday to arrive and start work. I'm not holding my breath.

So the great carpet debacle continues.

Realizations

It's March. When did March happen? My birthday is this month...am I ready for another birthday?

What's more, I've been here in Philly for six months now. Six months. Wow. And in looking back over the previous 6 months I've come to a few realizations.

1. I am SO not ready to date

I hate to disappoint you all, but I'm not ready to climb back on the tilt-a-whirl that is dating. How do I know this? I've been on a few dates in the past 2 months. I had a good time. Met some people I'd like to get to know better, and been contacted by a few I hope to never hear from again. A recent example of the latter was a very nice person that spent 3 lines of the 5 line message they sent me talking about their love of monkeys. O-kaayyy. You go with your future zoo keeper self...just as long as you are far far away from me.

Back to the dates. Like I said, I had a good time. But I apparently still have a few issues to work through from my most recent "train wreck disguised as a relationship." Anytime my date did or said anything that even remotely reminded me of my ex, even though intellectually I know my date wasn't being my ex and that they aren't my ex, my brain went into overdrive and "OMG my ex said/did that and oh, sh*t what if this person ends up being just like my ex and I end up in another disaster-laden relationship for over a year??" panic messages would start playing on repeat in my brain. Yeah. And it could be the littlest thing my date said that intellectually I knew meant nothing, but I was analyzing everything (apparently) unconsciously looking for evidence that my date may be just like my ex. Oh boy. I need help.

So I'm not ready to date yet. Must work through my personal issues first so I don't fall back into the same patterns that have led me into bad relationships in the past. I see the big neon flashing sign that I'm not ready for the reality of dating. I get it. Thanks. I like the idea of dating...but the reality of it is a bit much for now.

There are exceptions to this (every rule has it's exception, see your primary school grammar book for proof).
-- If the person I've had a "thing" for (developed from crush to genuine attraction and yes, I do really care about this person) the past 3 or so years manages to pull their head out of their butt and things between us become a possibility, I might consider dating them. They know about my issues, they've been my friend through it and still like me anyway. And I still like them despite the fact they've been living with their head up their butt for some time now. I think it's is a good thing that we like each other no matter what. OK, "consider" is a lie. I'd probably go for it. After lots of agonizing, of course.
-- And Trent Reznor (of Nine Inch Nails, my favorite band EVER), if you are magically available and interested in dating me, call me. Seriously. Just call.

2. I still like my job

I still like the job that brought me to Philly. No regrets about taking it and moving here. I'm busy and have lots of projects I'm juggling, but it's all good stuff. Generally I'm not feeling overwhelmed or like I might not be able to do this or like I have a lot still to learn to be able to do my job. I feel capable of doing my job and like I'm in the right place to stretch and develop professionally. I still have things to learn, but that's what keeps me interested, the challenge and drive to keep learning in the ever-evolving world of librarianship and cataloging. So much change happening in my field (and in librarianship in general), and so much to keep on top of, especially with the addition of local projects and implementations, but it's all exciting and I'm not feeling buried by it all. I'm still involved in things on a national level, and feel that I'm making good connections there too.

So I still like my job. And my decision to leave my previous place of employment was confirmed by some recent decisions made by management there that are, in my opinion, ethically questionable and have upset a lot of people. Not to mention admin is trying to spin it so it doesn't sound as bad as it is...but I don't think many people are buying into the spin. To borrow a phrase from my best friend (who comes up with the best descriptive statements for things!):

Old job = insane asylum for the criminally manipulative

'Nuff said. I'm glad I'm not still there.


So overall, things in Philly are good. I still need a social life, but I've only been here for 6 months, so I feel I'm "on track" so to speak. I'm (slowly) making some friends. My home office is currently back in boxes 'cause I'm getting new carpet in there and my bedroom, which is a good thing, but unfortunately not without some drama in the process. I have a routine. More importantly, Aussie (my baby dog) has adjusted to the new routine and environment just fine. Riding my bike to work (weather permitting) and being in a lower-stress environment overall has been good for my physical health, and bonus, I'm in much better shape and have lost some weight that I needed to lose. So in general, I'd say the scale is leaning in the "life is good" direction, minus daily dramas, of course, but we all have those despite our best laid plans and intentions, so I can live with them just fine.

Shoe abominations

I meant to blog about this last week when I witnessed it, but time got away from me. However, it bears discussion.

I see, um, interesting fashion choices. I work on a university campus, with other institutions nearby. Student fashion is always creative and different. For example, students wearing flannel pj bottoms in pink with little sheep all over them in public. Often even worn to class, which for students is their "job" for however many years. Not something the vast majority of the world could get away with wearing to work unless you worked from home. But it's university/college society, so students get away with a lot more because it's not "real" society yet. It's an opportunity for them to explore who they are and who they want to be, and this often gets manifested in what they choose to wear. There was a guy at my college that discovered he loved wearing skirts, he found them airy and much less confining than pants, so he wore them for a good 3 1/2 years. But when he started interviewing for jobs, he wore a suit. University/college life vs. the real world. My sister shaved her head during college because she knew it was a time in her life that she could do that and not have it held against her. People kind of expect university/college students to do crazy things.

There are some things, however, that are always an abomination. I see Ugg boots everywhere, and they're bad, but not an abomination. Flannel pj bottoms in public are not an abomination; hell, at least they're covered by their clothes. Don't get me started on the mini skirts and girls that don't know how to bend over and pick something up without flashing their panties to the world. But the other day, on my walk home from work, I witnessed footwear that made me want to gouge out my eyeballs:

Black. Patent. Leather. Clogs.

Yes, CLOGS in black patent leather.

In general, black patent leather should be reserved for formal occasions. It reminds me of the fancy church shoes I had as a child, in a Mary-Jane style. But to make a CLOG out of it is, well, disturbing. Disturbing and wrong.

Wrong. So many shades of just wrong. A shoe abomination. The person wearing them needs to be put in a room and subjected to reprogramming regarding appropriate footwear. Somebody call Stacy and Clinton of TLC's What Not To Wear before I take matters into my own hands.

It's *cold*, dammit!

It's cold out. Seriously cold. And it has been for months now, despite all predictions for a mild winter and that it was going to end early. Today is deceptively cold. It looks nice out. Sunny with a clear blue sky. So when you look through the window it doesn't look that bad. The temperature isn't even all that cold: mid-20s Fahrenheit. But then there's the wind. Wind chills down to the single digits and sometimes even into the negative range. And tomorrow it's supposed to snow again.

Now I'm not one to normally complain about the cold. People have described me as a "human heater", a trait I share with my dad and sister. We don't get all that cold, ever. Yes, extremities get cold, but they do warm up, and usually quite quickly for me. I can't use flannel sheets because I get too warm, even in the coldest of cold snaps. Besides, when it's cold, you can always add more layers. Generally, cold doesn't bother me, and neither does snow. In fact, I kind of like winter. Fall and spring are my favorite seasons, particularly because I love that snap and crisp feel to the air, the cool evenings, but I don't mind the cold of winter.

Heat, on the other hand, is another issue. I'm not a big fan. You can only peel off so many layers before you're naked. Once your naked, there are no more layers. All you are is hot and covered in sticky sweat, stuck standing in front of or below a fan praying for some relief from the heat radiating from your person. Yuck. Over the years my body has learned to adjust to extreme heat, but that doesn't mean I like it.

Back to the cold. I know what you're going to say. March comes in like a lion and this cold is the lion part, right? My take on things is that the damn groundhog lied this year and we are having six more weeks of winter. And that day this past weekend where it was 60F out? Yeah, an anomaly just like that 70 degree day we had in early January. It's still winter, dammit.

Normally, six more weeks of winter wouldn't bother me, but the deceptive cold that it is today causes me to complain. The wind makes your eyes water, and then, if it continues to gust, it freezes those tears to your lashes. Or, if the wind gust passes, you feel the tears coursing down your cheek like hot lava digging crevasses into your skin. Cold enough to make my skin hurt under my layers and to wince when the wind blows up my coat. I'm home and warm now, but that walk home was vicious.

And on my walk I saw something I could hardly believe. A person outside, walking home from a corner store, in a T-shirt and jeans. A T-shirt. I can only explain this as either:
a) the person is from Antarctica so temps in the 20s with sub-zero wind chill feels balmy
-OR-
b) they're insane and trying to kill themselves by getting pneumonia.

I just can't decide which.