There are certain pieces of art -- music, books, movies, tv shows -- that click with you in ways that are hard to define. Oftentimes mere words cannot explain the feelings you have for certain things. The heart wants what it wants, right? Though I have tried, I still can't explain what it was about the Wakefield Twins of Sweet Valley that had me entranced for years on end. I can't adequately explain how the music of The Replacements exhilarates me and makes me feel understood and not alone all at the same time.
Nor can I explain why I love Dawson's Creek so much. It's a silly teen drama that I fell in love with when I was much too old to be in the show's target audience. I remember having a great time making fun of my parents who were early-fans of the Dawson's Creek/Felicity night on the WB. Little did I know, three short years later I would be the biggest fan of Dawson's Creek.
It caught me when I was at my weakest. I was working a crap job in Customer Service, living alone for the first time, and fighting a battle with pneumonia where the doctor made me choose between staying in my apartment for 10 days or going to the hospital to rest.
I opted for the home quarantine and it was then I caught my first episode. It was the one where Pacey kissed Joey. That's all it took and I was hooked. I watched the show religiously for the next two years. Then I proceeded to Netflix the hell out of the entire series so I could get the full Dawson's Creek experience.
It didn't end there. Once I moved into Supergenius HQ and had cable, I began to TiVO the show on any time it was shown. I'd watch it every night and it ruled. But then I got laid off in the winter of 08 and by that summer decided that I needed to slash my cable budget. I dropped down a level, saving myself a measly $13 a month (seriously Comcast, are you fucking kidding me?) and thus ended my Dawson's supply. There was much sadness throughout the land.
Over the years I've spent a lot of time debating the merits of purchasing each of the six seasons of Dawson's on DVD. But somehow I always held back, mostly because I am cheap. But then they released the Complete Series as a box set for only $81. I could not resist, and snapped it up immediately.
There was much rejoicing throughout the land when it landed on my doorstep. However, after making my way through 2.5 seasons I've discovered that one of the discs is flawed. It won't play the finale of season 3, which is a very important episode. It is here where Joey makes the decision to ditch whiny, crybaby Dawson and spend the summer sailing to Key West with Pacey.
So, what's a girl to do? I, of course, e-mail customer service at Sony Pictures Home Entertainment whereby I was told to pack up my entire Boxed Set send it to their giant conglomerate and then spend the next three to five weeks with my fingers crossed praying that they return a working set to me.
Perfect solution, huh?
I don't think so. While I am all for sending them a proof of purchase, and even sending back the defective disc for a new one, the idea of just sending something I paid hard-earned money for into the void doesn't sit well with me. And why does it take so long? Three to five weeks? It took Amazon 2-days to get the set to me, apparently it takes the makers of the boxed set a couple of fortnights to get a working product to me.
I call bullshit.
We signed up for this once we got here. Association Holiday dinner (and meeting) was open to the 300 homes or so in this area. We were sure we would be wanting to leave as soon as we got there. We were wrong!
I've just gutted my entire house, right down to the studs, and am slowly rebuilding it. After months of nothing but demolition, I'm finally starting to reverse the process. My bathroom contractor is working today to get ready for my tile guy. The insulation guy worked yesterday, so the house is nice and cozy now. (Right, except that I have to put the windows back in.) On Tuesday, the sheetrock guy comes to start putting my ceilings and walls back.
Just as soon as I wrap up my work in the attic: 2 more ceiling joists to sister, one more ceiling fan mount to install, plus 3 more fixture mounts for other lights. I'd planned to sister all the 5 ceiling joists that need it this weekend, but Tuesday I created a little emergency. While trying to rip out a piece of planking in the wall that had bowed and split--thereby preventing the sheetrock from being flush--I discovered that two of my ceiling joists were actually resting on that plank, instead of on the exterior load-bearing wall. The reason? when the foundation failed in the 40s that wall bowed out about three inches, and the joists slipped off it.
Which is how I broke my nose. With all that weight on the plank, it was under a lot of pressure, so when I finally managed to pry it off the studs, it came loose at high speed and whacked me in the face. I blacked out for about a second, before that little quiet voice in the back of my head kicked in. You know, the little voice that whispers, "Maybe you shouldn't take that short cut," and "Get up and check the door." My little voice said, "Don't fall off the ladder."
I didn't. I managed to get myself down the ladder, my head ringing, and my dust mask filling up with blood. As I was just starting to wonder how badly I'd fucked myself up, I heard this soft groaning sound and looked up. Above me, the ceiling was sagging about three inches. Not terrible, but likely to become so.
This was at about 8 pm, and who was I going to call for help? Sure, 911 would take care of my face, but they wouldn't do anything about my ceiling joists. So I went out to my truck, grabbed the jack, and a couple of 2 x 4's on my way back through the garage. I slapped one 2 x 4 up to the ceiling with a pair of screws (thank you, trusty cordless drill), wedged the other one up under it, balanced on top of the jack, and cranked the ceiling back up to the proper height. Contrary to my expectations, it worked perfectly. After all, that little jack was designed to lift one quarter of my truck, so it was strong enough to lift one tenth of my ceiling.
Then I could worry about my nose. Luckily I still have a kitchen sink, so I went it and pulled the dust mask off. Blood, lots of it. I washed off a bunch of it, but I didn't have a mirror, so I couldn't really see what the damage was. I had half a bag of ice in the freezer, so I grabbed that, stuck it on my face and drove to my temporary digs.
I kept the ice on it for about five hours, and that seems to have done the trick. I have a bump, a bruise, and my eyes are a little black, but my nose is straight. I'm pretty sure it's broken, because I can feel it wiggle when I laugh, and my eyebrows actually hurt.
Episode 2 was me calling into work sick the next morning. Only I didn't stay home. I couldn't. I went to the house and crawled up in the attic to sister in the three joists that just couldn't wait for this weekend. Then I had to repair and replace the plank I'd originally been intending to fix when it bitch slapped me. I won the rematch.
She whispered, so I had to lean in and then ask her to repeat: "Are you ready for Christmas???"
For one thing, it is December 3rd. That's 22 days before Christmas, and I think putting the ham in the oven NOW might be a tad premature. Also, I only celebrate Christmas because of the cultural expectation to see my family and give them stuff now and then. It's a convenient enough occasion to do so, though I must say the travel would be much easier in the summer.
Surely some bank customers are not Christians... so isn't the assumption that "ready for Christmas" is a state I wish to achieve a bit presumptuous? But I went along with it, as she recounted her gift list status, acting as if I could actually afford to buy gifts this year. But then, before I could get the hell out of there she had to ask, "Do you bake, too?"
Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have on occasion baked things. But this holiday baking subculture is not a part of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it is offensive when someone assumes that just because I'm a white woman in the US I have a baking agenda for December. Well, the bank teller certainly does. I was literally done and backing away as she recounted the six batches of cookies plus xmas morning bread repertoire.
I am really not ready for Christmas.
Besides the obvious financial burden for someone without a real income, I am now sucked in to a North Idaho family extravaganza. If I had work I could claim I could not afford to be in Idaho for a whole week, but as it stands my only possible excuses are sudden illness or a bad attitude.
My cousin (on my dad's side) is paying for a fancy condo on Lake Coeur d'Alene for her mom and sister and their men to stay while they are in St. Maries with her dad's family. There is a sofa bed and free transport for me, but aunt Rosie wants to leave on the 20th and spend one night at the trailer of one of her drinking buddies up in the woods (I'd be on the couch), and now it turns out my mom's family won't be celebrating Xmas until the 26th, when my cousin (on my mom's side) gets back from his wife's family in Montana. And the condo where we are staying is an hour or mor from anywhere on icy, windy roads... and I have to rely on relatives (drunk relatives) to drive me anywhere.
The irony is that neither I nor anyone on either side of my family really cares about celebrating Xmas. Except the cousin who is paying for the condo (she once dragged us to the world's largest Xmas market in Rothenberg, Germany... I had a hangover... we were there for hours).
On the bright side, the condo building has a heated indoor pool and a restaurant with a bar. And I have plenty of books to read.
Its pouring rain outside, but the house is so well insulated - I can't hear it sitting here in my office.
Ben is in his office, now painted a DARK brown with dark carpet and black wood desks - his man cave - playing with friends online.
We've managed to get the rooms painted we wanted to change, put in new carpet, get new furniture, set up guest rooms and there is a new hot tub in the enclosed garden room - once potting shed - just waiting for Ben and my brother in law Mark to pull the 150 feet of cable and wire up a new electrical box for it.
Today I finally decided on health insurance and studied for the driver's license test. It will soon be official -
Just talked with both kids. Miss them - but will see them soon at Cas's graduation.
She's graduating UC Davis with 2 majors and a minor. She's applying to law schools.
Aaron was cooking dinner with a friend tonight - steaks in pepper and olive oil.
I can't wait to see them on the 12th!
Soon, maybe this weekend - the rain will turn to snow.
In an effort to consolidate all things bloggy and potty (euw)...I'm moving most of my blogging activity, posting of items and all general stuff to:
But that doesn't mean I'm abandoning this space. At least...not entirely. I'll try to crosslink updates and of course, I need to keep this account active to keep an eye on you hooligans.
If you want to know what my story is all about, you can view my profile page here: KwaS
You know of those rear-enders that you can see coming in your rear view mirror? I saw one coming in my rear view mirror this morning on The 101 freeway.
I saw a damaged off-white older Toyota pickup with a shell on the back approaching way too fast. The driver hadn't noticed that my lane had slowed to a stop for a few moments, even though all the other lanes were still moving. Next, I heard screeching tires and saw the smoke from the pressure applied to the brakes. I watched the car sort of veer from side to side in order to slow down but not enough to leave the lane. I remained calm and just prepared for impact.
Then it was quiet.
The car behind me stopped mere inches behind me and a couple seconds later, my lane started moving again. I drove on and watched my rear view mirror and I as drove away, untouched. The driver changed lanes and as the guy passed me (quickly) on my left, I was left with the smell of burnt rubber.
I am a defensive driver and I try to give cars, especially visibly-damaged ones, a wide berth on the road. Even this doesn't prevent all possible collisions. Sometimes I can't do anything but trust others' ability to either pay attention to where they are going or react in time if they don't. I can do that or I can figure out a way to get one of these for my next car.
Fully-loaded WITH the voice-activated Bat Shield.
You know you want one too.
Do you have any idea how much my Thanksgiving was ruined? RUINED! It was ruined by the fact that I am hopelessly, utterly in love with a song that talks about pie in a positive light. I spent the entire holiday breaking singing about pie.
I am so ashamed.
