“I came up with direct marketing. Well, someone else already had, but I came up with it independently.”
– Mad Men (Pete Campbell)
“I love your necklace!” said a patron to me today. “Did you get the idea from Ugly Betty?”
“Er, no,” I answered, having never watched the show. “Anne Boleyn.”
“Oh. Who’s that?”
Sigh. Stupid history degree. Nobody has a clue what I’m talking about half the time.
“Happiness is a warm puppy.”
– Charles M. Schulz
Watching the Westminster Kennel Club dog show has had an unintended effect. Out of nowhere, J. has told me he likes scruffy-furred dogs with beards (see Fig. 1). He also showed a distinct fondness for large dogs with dragging jowls.
On the other hand, I go for the more streamlined and sleek looking dogs (see Fig. 2).
In fact the only things we can agree on is that we both like border collies, and both are seized with rampant puppy lust. It’s a good thing we don’t live in a flat that permits animals, otherwise can you imagine the raging fight we’d have?
Editor’s Note:
Fig. 1 now updated. The first “scruffy dog” I displayed was insufficiently scruffy, according to J. This is my point.
“So…we’re not eating out again until after, approximately, the birth of our third child.”
– C.
Indy, though a blessed luxury after four years without a car, does come with a certain amount of wear and tear. She’s 12 years old and I’m increasingly of the opinion her previous owner didn’t love her as I do.
We came back from Christmas to find her battery (the one she came with: a secondhand, refurbished one at that!) had died. J.’s parents had generously bought us a new one for a Christmas present but when they were bringing her back to life, the mechanic said we should keep an eye on our timing belt because it was obviously old and cracked. Also a mount and filter needed to be replaced (thanks, Indy’s negligent previous owner).
So, when I took her in to get her oil changed yesterday, I batted my eyelashes and asked the mechanics if they could pretty please also check the belts for me because I was ever so worried about them (no charge!). Unfortunately I went to pick her up I got some scary news. Both the timing and driving belts seemed to be in immediate danger of molecular disintegration. And even a non-tech type like me knows that when those go, the entire car goes. They recommended immediate replacement but as it was already late afternoon and as it was going to be “at least a half day job,” they said the earliest they would be able to do it was today.
This morning I drove J. to school and then to the shop to be there when they opened at 8am thinking that, as they said it would be a half day thing and they are first come first serve, everything would be done by noon and I could go into work after lunch. I dropped Indy off and then walked the half mile home.
I’d just got to the door when I realized I’d turned all of my keys over to the mechanics and was locked out, and our landlord would be no help because J. and I had just changed the bolt lock. Sigh. I trudged back to the shop, sheepishly asked for my keys and headed back home grumbling. My grumbling increased exponentially forty minutes later when the shop called to explain that the water pump attached to the belt was leaking everywhere and needed to be fixed as well. Don’t worry, I didn’t let them charge me double labor.
The rest of the day I spent checking my phone every ten minutes to see if the shop had called. I did five loads of laundry, scrubbed the kitchen counters and floor, and cleaned our room. I rang Susie every two hours to update her and explain that I was still fully planning on coming into work, until about 3 when I became resigned to my fate. I watched two full movies on AMC while I folded clothes, as well as part of the Westminster Kennel Club dog show. I’d gone verifiably stir crazy by 11. When I began looking around the flat and thinking of decorating ideas I realized I’d reached a Stepford Level of Battiness. They called at 4:50 to say they had finished.
Praise be to Jupiter, Odin, and Quetzalcoatl that we have a Pell Grant to cover tuition and a fat tax return on its way (hurrah for being young, poor, at university, newly married, and living on a tiny income!), as well the fact that we like to save money for just such circumstances. It’s a steep bill buts it’s cheaper than a new car! I’m glad we’ve got the means and common sense to take care of ourselves, I just wish it wasn’t so bloody expensive sometimes.
The downside: $800.00 and an even larger pile of work on my desk tomorrow.
The upside: three day work week and clean laundry.
“I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.”
– Unknown
We spent St. Valentine’s Day at church, scrubbing meat juices out of the fridge after a pot roast thawed and dripped everywhere, throwing away leftovers from (seemingly) nearly twenty years ago, leaving nothing but milk in fridge, celebrating Sadie’s birthday, eating red velvet cake at my godfamily’s house, playing games, and watching Masterpiece and the NBA all-star game. I gave J. a gift certificate for a massage, he gave me this pretty thing I’ve been coveting. Tomorrow we’re going to the Cheesecake Factory for the official wining-and-dining.
I was never long on this holiday, nothing against it particularly, but thought it wasn’t the big deal some people make it out to be. I’m coming around.
“Demosthenes overcame and rendered more distinct his inarticulate and stammering pronunciation by speaking with pebbles in his mouth.”
– Plutarch
Our supplier’s secretary would have done well to copy the ancient orator. Quoth her voicemail message:
“Hey this is [name] with [supplier], just calling to let you know your testicle handcuff keys are ready to ship, please let me know when you’d like me to proceed.”
Susie called Wise, Hennessy, and I all in to consult and figure out what on earth she was talking about (amidst some mock horror, “Susie! What did you order?”) but we finally managed to deduce she meant tactical handcuffs. Which isn’t nearly as intriguing.
“A cigarette is a pipe with a fire at one end, and a fool at the other.”
– Unknown
And in continuing odd phone call news…
“Hello, I have a problem. I’m a landlady for a condo rented by students and some of them are reporting that one of them has a…hoooo-cah…? I think that has something to do with drugs and I don’t know what to do. I called the university’s housing department and they refered me to the city police, but they said they couldn’t help me.”
“Did they tell you why, ma’am?”
“Well, my tenants said he was smoking tobacco and the police said that that’s all right!”
“Er, yes, ma’am. If they are violating your landlord/tenant agreement though, as long as you uphold your end of it in the time you give him to remove himself from your property, you will be able to evict him.”
“But the university forbids drugs!”
“Yes, ma’am, but tobacco is legal as long as you are of age. The university does have certain behavioral requirements of all its’ attendees but that is not the same thing as someone breaking a state or federal law. The university may take action against him, you may take action against him as his landlord, but though he’s forming a bad and unhealthy habit, he isn’t doing anything criminal.”
“But he has a…hooo-cah! And I don’t even know what that is!”
“It’s a sort Middle Eastern pipe that uses water-“
“I’m sure he’s using it for heroin or something!”
“I doubt that, ma’am.”
“But what is it?”
This is the only cultural reference I could come up with that she recognized:
“Always be nice to secretaries. They are the real gatekeepers in the world.”
– Anthony J. D’Angelo
Not an hour into work and with stacks of paperwork already piled high on our desks, both the copier and shredder broke causing a swell of panic on the secretaries’ part. Wise, Susie, and I dove into action. After the right combination of kicking, bashing, praying, and human sacrifice was accomplished the copier shuddered, whirred, and started working again and we moved our attention to the shredder. Then my phone rang and there was a grouchy state attorney on the line, and Amanda was dragged off to do a record expungement leaving Susie to wrestle with the machinery.
In sauntered Lt. Figaro (late as usual) and he meandered up to Susie and started talking.
While I looked up records for the attorney I watched her stick her arm and fingers into the mechanisms to fix a blockage while he told the story of an African student he knew (which is really inspirational, don’t get me wrong). As she dragged the whole thing away from the wall to poke around the electrical hookups he led into the differences of education in multiple countries, which turned naturally to American politics. When she dragged the bag of shredded paper out of its compartment (which was nearly as big as she is and threatened to spill out everywhere) he reached his crescendo:
“And that is just what the terrorists want! They want to make us feel inferior and inadequate! We can’t let the terrorists win!”
At which point the attorney let me go and I was able to scurry back in time to keep the mess from tipping over and shove the whole contraption back into place.
“Good job, girls,” Figaro said and went back to his office to take a nap or something.
“It is a difficult thing to do, to stop being a full-speed-ahead student and settle into the more mundane life of a working woman. Suddenly you find yourself no longer super stimulated, intellectually, or running 100 mph, 24/7.
It’s very hard to get into the swing of mundane things, and find satisfaction in them. Learning to love the simple things in life is a art form. It takes a change of mental attitude and a lot of practice in order to go slow and enjoy the ride. Instead, we tend to want to fill up our days with things that stimulate, but don’t really feed our needs. Burnout is the inevitable result.
Do get your exercise and healthy food, do go to bed earlier, do say ‘no’ to things, but ‘yes’ to fun, and do let me know if you want me to buy you a light box.”
– Mum
Funny how mother’s just get things, huh? Like winter funks and the contributing factors. And how they immediately either make you feel better or know what to suggest that will. Hope I’m this wise when I’ve got my own spawn to raise!
I’m lucky to have lots of mother figures in my life so here’s a happy birthday to the newest but by no means least, my wonderful Mother-in-Law Darling tomorrow! I’m lucky to be able to share my families (all of them) with you!
“You know when you take a puppy to the vet, and it get poked and prodded for hours, and when you get it home it’s drained, exhausted, and loopy for days? That’s you right now.”
– J.
Winter has been rough for me this year. My theory is that the lack of sunlight (which by itself doesn’t really bug me, seeing as I like rainy, cloudy, and cold weather just fine) combining with birth control hormones for the first time during the dark half of the year has congealed into a perfect cocktail of winter doldrums.
All I want to do is hibernate. Even if, in spite of the ridiculous things that wake me up occasionally, I get a full night’s rest, I wake up exhausted every day and completely lacking the will to do anything. For a week now I’ve hauled myself out of bed mere minutes before we have to dash out the door to work/school. There’s been a pile of clean clothes sitting on my floor for days because I just can’t muster the strength to sort and store them (sorry, Mum!). We got these great electric toothbrushes for Christmas from J.’s parents which took some getting used to (i.e. splattering the mirror) which I haven’t dealt with in a week. And nature might abhor a vacuum, but not as much as me!
This isn’t just run of the mill laziness and I’ve never been this affected by a season before. I’m in a right dirty winter funk!
“The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend.”
– Aristotle
How can you tell that you have a good friend in your life? Well, first of all you are able to have a complete conversation with them wearing just a towel (this is a crucial test that all of my closest friends have passed, I shall spare you the details). Second you are able to pique the interest of everyone around you just from hearing your half of a phone conversation. Again, all of my friends have crossed this threshold, but today here is what my office got to listen to when Venice called to brighten my day.
“No one’s making fun of you. This is a judgement free zone.”
“I don’t really wear them.”
“Was the steamer necessary?”
“Holy mother of pain!”
“I will need my dress back at some point.”
“Oh, honey! Do you need to come over and shower?”
I take particular delight in refraining from elaboration when co-workers, classmates, or random strangers look to me for further explanation. A good friend doesn’t lessen her pal’s mystique!
Small Dog Syndrome 