48 posts tagged “homelife”

Too bad I don't have more time for craftiness.... or sleeping. Or anything, really. But in a spare minute or two, I did get my craft on and made a gardening apron:

I figured it was time to bust out the rick rack (because how often do you get to bust out the rick rack?)

Oh, and an annoyance. In the form of Verizon. Because, yet again, we had no internets for four days. Not just the regular hour or two hour drops in service (for which I can not get Verizon to compensate us, or fix), but four straight days, no service. At all. *sigh*

Okay, so when I complained about the bunnies who live in the neighbor's trees and eat all of my herbs, one of the solutions I'd imagined for it was not that I should walk out onto the back deck to inspect the herbivore damage to my herbs at 5:30 in the am just in time to see a pair of feral dogs rip bunny apart. They chased him round and round neighbor's house, he slammed himself into the chain link fence in an effort to escape three times, and was caught by the larger of the feral dogs, who looks to be half lab half pit bull and wears a collar. Poor, poor bunny. I yelled at the dogs and threw things at them, but they paid me no mind at all. Soon, they'd hauled bunny off, and a few minutes later I heard what sounded like the two dogs fighting each other (one would imagine over who got to eat bunny) on the other side of neighbor's house. Not a good start to the day. Actually, I'm still pretty traumatized... poor, poor bunny. P pointed out that if we were in Arizona, it would have been a coyote, that it's the natural way of things. But if it were a coyote I think I'd feel less bad about it, because it would be the natural way of things. But feral dogs (and P's spotted the same dogs running wild around the 'hood numerous times, and they were out there yesterday morning chasing squirrels that got away for having climbing abilities) aren't the natural way-- they are the result of human irresponsibility. When I called animal control about them and mentioned the collar on one of them she asked if I'd looked at the collar to see who owned them... uhm... let me think about this.... did I approach a pit bull I don't know other than as the beast I saw savage a rabbit ten feet from my back door to see what his collar says? That would be a no.

And, that said, over the last two days something still ate what remained of my cilantro. All of it.

Shortly after the sad passing of bunny I headed north to Arlington, first for breakfast pho with friends Mean Louise, Fish Innards, and Tracy Lee. There should just be more breakfast pho.

Breakfast Pho was followed by some hanging out and then I went to a event shoot for a client. An outdoor event. On a day when it was 100 degrees. Oh well. Event went well, and the main thing was a concert by Everclear. They put on a good show, heat be damned.

And ended with singer Art Alexakis riding around on the Arlington County promo guy's segway:

P and I drove madly to get up to D.C. for artists' night at Artomatic.

So busy, as usual, and being washed out... as usual. All it does is rain and rain and rain. After several years of drought, we're waaaay above average for rainfall. Every time I put a seed in dirt, the deluge comes. Herb garden, gone, washed downhill. Many of the containers were flooded over the rims. So I planted herb garden 2.0 yesterday... which, of course, means that it's raining today. Le sigh. P put up the laundry line and I managed to wash and dry exactly two loads of laundry before the rain came back. On the upside, the cucumbers did sprout.

Though, sadly, some birds have taken a shine to the watermelon sprouts and have eaten all but a couple of them :(

The cukes don't look too bad.... so far.

When not dealing with the rain, we have the neighbor beasts to contend with. They haven't jumped the fence or anything, but they bark and bark and bark. At everything. That moves. Squirrels. Rabbits. Birds. Us. It is soooooo annoying. Worst of all, whenever a fire truck goes by (and we live not too far, and certainly within hearing distance of, a major thoroughfare, so this is a regular, every night, sort of occurrence), they hooooowl and howl and howl.

And they are NEVER brought inside. Rain or shine, cold or heat. You can't really see it here, but they are both dreadlocked.

And not so sure about it. I mean, where I grew up, things like this did not happen. (Not one at a time, not in groups of seven.) And just 25 miles away. There was a tornado warning in the county where our house is yesterday (it didn't get to the county, but hung a right further south and headed for the water). Still, we've been dealing with the deluge for the last few weeks, and I'm now up to multiple washing away everything I planted incidents, including yesterday when there was such heavy rain it flooded out all of my pots and washed the seeds away.

SIGH.

Meanwhile, we have tax assessments that defy logic to look forward to here in lovely Virginia. Though there are, occasionally, things that one might find endearing about this place. Maybe not enough to counterbalance the illogical tax assessments, but enough to making hanging on for a few possible....

The biggest excitement of late is that I finally broke down and got a new computer. It was way past time, and doing anything-- anything, including turning it on-- had become a nightmare on the old one. The new one is muuuuuuch faster, and has more storage space, but moving computers it almost as traumatic as moving house... I can't get the contents of my iTunes to move over except for the things that I'd burned from CDs. I can't afford to buy a computer and upgrade to CS3, so I'm still working with Photoshop two versions ago, which is now refusing to open RAW files. I've downloaded the plug in. Twice. No luck. I can't get my website pages to open up in the application I'd been using to make and modify it, and I have things to add to it. And I don't like Vista. All of which is knocking the excitement of a new machine down about fifty notches.

I was on travel for work this week, which isn't so bad, except that I had to go out to the Eastern Shore (also not so bad-- though, am I wrong in thinking that name redundant? Does VA had a Western shore?), which required driving through Norfolk and VA Beach. Which ended up being a six hour traffic back up odyssey. It took almost three hours to go three miles and made me very glad that we don't live in Norfolk.

Eastern Shore was neat. The work part went fine, and I got up early one morning in search of a place to take a jog on the beach, failed miserably at that, and shot some pictures instead. Sadly, the trip ended with a four hour, traffic-laden return. On the upside, while I was gone a few seeds in an herb container I'd planted sprouted. Yeay! Not that this makes up for having lost my entire herb garden in the deluge last weekend, but it's good none the less.

In the meantime, I got an email from a friend at old job, two jobs back, who said my dissertation had arrived. Pardon? I had no idea what he was talking about. He sent them on to me, and while they were en route, I remembered that when I'd initially completed, had signed off, and submitted my diss manuscript to the library at erstwhile uni, there had been a form where you could request (at an outrageous price for what it is) photocopies of your dissertation from UMI, which is the org that does all the copying and microfiching/microfilming of dissertations in the U.S., if you wanted extra copies. I ordered three-- one for my parents, one for my beloved adviser/second committee member, Prof. DKW, and one for my third committee member. They arrived from two jobs ago old job the other day:

And yeah. It has been two and a half years. It has been so long that dear Prof. DKW has passed away since I ordered the frigging things (making me feel sad that he may have thought I'd forgotten him). His widow was deaccessioning his library (which was enormous and amazing), as was he in the last bit of his life, so there is nowhere to send the thing. It's been so long that it's kind of uncomfortable sending it to third committee member-- sort of highlighting that we haven't spoken since the paperwork was finally signed, as well as the oogie-ness of getting all of it done, which was not an easy process, even by doctoral dissertation insanity norms. Obviously, my parents will get their copy. But two and a half years? jeeeeeeez. And I opened it up to find that it is not the print out with nice pictures that the copy I got from my Uni library is-- it's a photocopy. No, really, a photocopy. Two and a half yeas for a photocopy? It's bound in hideous plastic covered cardboard in a shade of blue I can only think if institutional elementary school bathroom tile. Perhaps UMI stands for Unbelievably, Mindbogglingly, Inefficient.

Other than that, I read this article, and was depressed and sad, missing my erstwhile home in PP, and just disgusted to see the way these things fall out....

Finally planted something in the garden yesterday. I don't have super high hopes, as I usually am the angel of death when it comes to plants, but I have my fingers crossed that something will sprout. Of course, if anything sprouts, it may then get eaten by one of the bazillions of squirrels or the wild rabbits (including the giant one that I believe is a feral Flemmish Giant), but I'm trying to take one step at a time.

I seem to have gotten the stuff in the ground just in time-- we've got thunder, lightening, and a whole lotta rain going on out there this morning. Guess that's it for the gardening this weekend. On the, ahem, "upside," there is enough stuff to do indoors to keep me busy for ten years, so whatevs. I hope it's sunny next weekend, though, cause I gots to plant the rest of the seeds if they're going to have enough growing season to grow. In the meantime, I'm going to watch the rain falling on the purdy dogwood that is in full bloom on the side of the house. It's about the only thing looking nice that was here when we arrived (our predecessor was not, it appears, much of a green thumb).

While the transition from city livin' to suburban life is a bit of a transition (try as I might, I can't find a way to ride my bicycle to work... everything involves highways and major roads... these Richmonders are not so bicycle-friendly.... there aren't any bike paths to be seen :( which is kind of depressing), it's good to know that there are some familiar practices in place. Mayoring style, for example. I give you the style of Richmond's Mayor Wilder. Should be an easy transition from life in the District.

Overworked, mostly. I think I put that in the description of this blog. Or maybe of my flickr account. Or whatever. I say this now, but the sad fact is that the word could have easily been used to describe me when I was sixteen, had three jobs and was, you know, in high school "full time." I used to laugh uproariously at the skit on In Living Color where the West Indian dude would go off on someone for only have "tree jobs" when he, West Indian fellow, had seven jobs. Briefly, I wondered if I were West Indian (you know, until I caught site of myself and remembered that I'm so pale I glow in the dark).

With age comes maturity. Which mainly means that rather than picking up hourly wage labor, I now have, ahem, "projects." I have one official job, and about three hundred "projects," some of which are sometimes referred to as "gigs."

I had a gig last weekend, in fact, so that instead of planting that garden (which is probably okay as it's meant to frost here tonight) or unpacking something useful (or, you know, paying my bills), I was in Arlington shooting pictures. Which, in most ways, is just fine, since I like to shoot pictures, and I like the people who asked me to shoot the pictures. I like the shooting (despite the bad weather that has made for flat lighting). It's the no-time-must-post-process
thing that is currently wrecking havoc. Most of the havoc is caused by my old, slow, and full computer. That combination means that I am still adjusting curves on files at 10 pm when I'd hoped to be done hours ago. Days ago. I've ordered a new computer in the hopes of fixing this problem...I sure hope it works!

In the meantime, I have a couple of pictures from the weekend:

I'm not sure that the leap made me think of it, but she did have pretty awesome hair.

In other news, I went out to jump in the car (not mine, mind you, as poor P has to drive faaaaar to work, and has been taking my better mileage getting leeeetle car to work... which means I'm driving his jeep, which just isn't my size, to work), and saw one of the few tulips our predecessors had planted, lying, perfect, yellow and beautiful, on the ground.... and couldn't figure out what the hell. A similar fate befell another tulip two days ago. Yesterday, P spotted the culprit:

So, after a week of being on hold and bounced around between the truly useless "automated" system at Verizon ("I did not understand you. Please choose from the following options: if you would like a coterie of farm animals, say, farm animals; if you would like to add the Nine Million Channels of Crap to your package for just $349.95 a month, say, crap; if you would like customer service, please hang up, we don't have that.... you said, farm animals... is that right?") and rude customer service (ahem) folks, our service got hooked up. Then, this week some other Verizon dude came to the house. He didn't ring the bell or anything, he just went around back and started messing around. P came outside and asked what he was doing. "Hooking up your service." Uhmmm.... we got service a few days ago. This guy was insistent that we had service coming. He was going to hook up service for a phone number we'd never heard of. And shut off the service we have. AND CHARGE US FOR IT. So, you know, we're less than impressed with them.

Then, the other morning, a sewage back up pipe-y thingie started to... you know... back up. Cause it was open, though the cap was lying on the ground next to it. P, handy guy that he is, got a wrench and recapped it. At which point none of the drains in the house would drain and the toilets went BLUB BLUB BLUB.... BLUB BLUB..... BLUB. For hours. While looking for a wrench around the house, P found a box of septic tank treatment stuff left by the previous owner. But we don't have a tank; we're on city water. Clearly, the previous owner was a moron (microbes will only eat the gunk in the tank because it's a tank. They need to hang out for a while. It don't do much good to send them zipping into the city sewer system) who obviously knew that there was some issue with the sewer line prior to selling the house. Which they failed to disclose. As they lightly capped the pipe-- just enough to vent the pipe for the inspection while having it appear as though the cap was actually on. Meaning that Mrs. S, abuser of walls (many of them have really weird scratches on them-- as though she were keeping a werewolf in the house who periodically got busy in the dining room), defiler of carpet (the carpet in the bedroom was disgustingly filthy. No, really... it was filthy), possessor of bad taste (the brass! The brass switchplates and nasty ceiling lamps! My eyes!

They're burning), non-forwarder of mail (I have a giant pile of bills, JC Penney catalogs, Jet Magazines, and two boxes of fruit that were being sent monthly in her and the other person in the house's name. I called the fruit company to tell them to stop sending it here, and the mail has gone back to the carrier, but since they moved out more than four months ago you would think that they would have taken care of this already); painter of ceilings (I shake my fist at you!); is also a sleazy liar begging for karmic retribution. Not from me (unless, of course, the cost of the repair turns out to go past my lawsuit threshold, at which point the pictures of the septic stuff the lying cow left under the sink will be brought out in full force in court), but from the universe, which I like to think returns such favors. I am hoping mostly that it will do so in the form of an itchy rash in an embarrassing place.

I include here, for your consideration, two of the lamp monstrosities that the truth-challenged Mrs. S left behind for us. The Offensive Grape  Lamp is in the dining room and involves grape bunch shaped pieces of plastic dangling from a brass base (at least three levels of wrong there). The Brass and Glass Grandma Fan is currently flashing its brassy tackiness at us nightly from its perch above the bed. High on the list of home improvement projects once the unpacking has gotten under control is to Get. Rid. Of. All. Lampage, as Mrs. S could not be trusted in that aisle of Home Depot. Though the lamps did go, stylistically, with the vertical blinds (shudder... though they did make for amusement as Phil put them on his shoulders and pretended to be a car wash), the brass switchplates, and the horribly flouncy curtain bar left behind in the living room.

First up, Phil was interviewed for an AP story about the impact that going to Iraq has had on a cross-section of Americans. The part about him talks about the show of his work at Irvine Contemporary last month. It's appeared in a number of papers around the country over the weekend. You can read the article and see the video interview of him on the Washington Times site.

In the follow up to my accident of last week, the following day I was rushing through the building where my office is, put my foot into a puddle of water from someone's umbrella and went straight down on the tile floor. Tile, I can attest, is very very hard. My leg swelled up in three places. Good times.

We spent most of the weekend painting at the house. The house needs a lot of paint, as the previous owners did things like paint the kitchen institutional green-- walls, woodwork, and CEILING. There is a bedroom that is all peach, ceiling and woodwork including. And then there is the den. Think about the etymology of that-- a room named after a place where a bear hibernates. (Which to me is a little too close to a "lair," neither of which do I want as part of my home). And this was hibernation worthy, having been sheathed in that wonderful seventies faux wood paneling. Sadly, my D70 is packed, so the best before pictures I can come up with are phone pictures:

Mmmmmm.... dark faux wood panelling.... how very seventies.

After pictures to come soon, but let's just say that two coats of primer and two coats of eggshell later it looks a lot better. But if I never have to paint a den again, it will be too damned soon. We also did the bedroom and the small bathroom. Six rooms, another bathroom and a hallway to go! Ug.

None of the painting would be possible without our painting Ninja friend, Carrie, who is a total rockstar with the brush.