Tuesday, August 31, 2004
I just took some anti-motion sickness medicine in order that I might endure tonight's RNC. The spin (and that goes for Boston's DNC as well) is really enough to make you retch. Vapid red-white-and-blue choreography like a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down. I have this horrible feeling Bush is going to get re-elected. This feeling follows my experiences with getting one hubby and two children moved to a new home. People for the most part hate change... The Republican spinmasters will convince Joe Blow he is better off with what he knows than with what he doesn't. Too scary.... And BTW I have to admit Kerry really isn't that great...
Only fellow Libras will appreciate this little story. At Macy's today I on a whim bought two silk pillows on sale just because. They go PERFECTLY on the day bed in my office. I mean perfectly the way I like perfect. Not, 'Oh you hired an interior designer I see.' Perfect in the 'Oh wow what a beautiful room, and I couldn't tell you exactly why...'
Only fellow Libras will appreciate this little story. At Macy's today I on a whim bought two silk pillows on sale just because. They go PERFECTLY on the day bed in my office. I mean perfectly the way I like perfect. Not, 'Oh you hired an interior designer I see.' Perfect in the 'Oh wow what a beautiful room, and I couldn't tell you exactly why...'
Monday, August 30, 2004
Met a friend for lunch today who told me her new pastime is letterboxing. Apparently it is becoming extremely popular in the US. Who knew...
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Eight hundred dollars is what it cost to don the son in his start-up business suit, obligatory for presentations, internships, and interviews (one hopes) as he begins his business-major junior year. Well you can't expect an Abercrombie boy to wear anything less than Hugo Boss can you? Helps to have a Euro father too who never compromises on quality/fashionable clothing and went shopping with him last weekend. The son picked out a purple shirt and purple-print tie. I'm sure he will look very handsome in his metro-sexual kind of way.
Seven tennis balls at least hunker hidden in the large forsythia bush of our new garden. God knows what else is in there since I can't imagine having this garden and not having a dog and I can't be the only one to have made sacrafices to the ball-eating-bush. The bush greens innocently enough behind the garden table and chairs it secludes. But the lobbed ball has no chance after about the tenth throw. The arm gives out or gets lazy; the ball comes up short and the vorracious bush gobbles its prey without mercy.
Six bruises adorn the legs which still attempt akwardly to navigate the new terrain and rhythems of our new life in our new home. And it is a new life. Once all of the distractions of house projects is completed, what awaits is a canvas to be painted -- a stone foundation on which to build something -- a garden to plant and nurture. I figure the bruises are a good sign. They denote creativity of some kind. Better fizgig than fallow...
Five times a day that I smile for my courage to push the changes I did over the last four months. I dragged my family kicking, screaming, and complaining to a place we needed to be. A place where I needed to be.
Four times I've changed my mind as to what kind of countertop to have in the new kitchen. There is granite with all if its pros and cons. Quartz, slate, limestone, concrete, tile, wood, and last but not least formica with all of their pros and cons. Just when I think I have finally zeroed in on which material I want, there is the color thang.... Should I go with Amarillo Palmira or Amarillo Sand? Diana Pearl perhaps? Oh wait a minute. I didn't see these fifty-seven other colors on the back page... And how about kitchen faucets: there are pullouts, two handles, wall mounts, single handle, and utility. Within each of these categories is a dizzying array of price points and finishes. Too much for this Libra's short-circuiting brain (whether from all the choices, or all those drugs in the seventies is hard to say).
Three of my favorite magazines lie unread on the table -- victims of a crazed woman bent on swashbuckling her way into creating a new reality for herself. One free of sentimental wispiness now that the kids are flying the coop. Like a contrail that suddenly zigs sharply to the left. Or maybe I'm zagging to the right. We'll see.
Two bottles of Trefethen Chardonnay that are chilling as I write. They will be opened upon hubby's return from D.C. on Saturday evening from whence he will have deposited our little loverlies to their expensive dorms.
One more day and they depart. The dog knows I think. Of late she keeps finding their shoes (left ever strewn about the house) and lies down on top of them. If they don't have their shoes they can't leave right?
Seven tennis balls at least hunker hidden in the large forsythia bush of our new garden. God knows what else is in there since I can't imagine having this garden and not having a dog and I can't be the only one to have made sacrafices to the ball-eating-bush. The bush greens innocently enough behind the garden table and chairs it secludes. But the lobbed ball has no chance after about the tenth throw. The arm gives out or gets lazy; the ball comes up short and the vorracious bush gobbles its prey without mercy.
Six bruises adorn the legs which still attempt akwardly to navigate the new terrain and rhythems of our new life in our new home. And it is a new life. Once all of the distractions of house projects is completed, what awaits is a canvas to be painted -- a stone foundation on which to build something -- a garden to plant and nurture. I figure the bruises are a good sign. They denote creativity of some kind. Better fizgig than fallow...
Five times a day that I smile for my courage to push the changes I did over the last four months. I dragged my family kicking, screaming, and complaining to a place we needed to be. A place where I needed to be.
Four times I've changed my mind as to what kind of countertop to have in the new kitchen. There is granite with all if its pros and cons. Quartz, slate, limestone, concrete, tile, wood, and last but not least formica with all of their pros and cons. Just when I think I have finally zeroed in on which material I want, there is the color thang.... Should I go with Amarillo Palmira or Amarillo Sand? Diana Pearl perhaps? Oh wait a minute. I didn't see these fifty-seven other colors on the back page... And how about kitchen faucets: there are pullouts, two handles, wall mounts, single handle, and utility. Within each of these categories is a dizzying array of price points and finishes. Too much for this Libra's short-circuiting brain (whether from all the choices, or all those drugs in the seventies is hard to say).
Three of my favorite magazines lie unread on the table -- victims of a crazed woman bent on swashbuckling her way into creating a new reality for herself. One free of sentimental wispiness now that the kids are flying the coop. Like a contrail that suddenly zigs sharply to the left. Or maybe I'm zagging to the right. We'll see.
Two bottles of Trefethen Chardonnay that are chilling as I write. They will be opened upon hubby's return from D.C. on Saturday evening from whence he will have deposited our little loverlies to their expensive dorms.
One more day and they depart. The dog knows I think. Of late she keeps finding their shoes (left ever strewn about the house) and lies down on top of them. If they don't have their shoes they can't leave right?
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Anna Bloviation's recent claim to ephemeral fame was a short-lived newspaper article featuring a momentum-building quote. No sooner uttered by yours truly, said momentum was snuffed out by a clerical error at the ever efficient State House clerk's office. This means that a certain bill that was en route to enactment now gets bounced back to 'third reading' i.e. it will likely die a slow and painful death. Too bad. I was only trying to help all the kids whose parents are too wimpy to say, "No dear, you may not scoot up sidewalks and down onto streets going 25 mph sans helmut, plugged into a walkman, and by the way you don't even have a learner's permit." The flip side to this is that not regulating these little adorables might mean the elimination of quite a significant percentage of offspring I might label 'low tide at the gene pool' if their parents' lack of demonstrated common sense in letting their under-fifteen kids rule the rode on motor scooters is any indication. Just kidding. Frankly the main driver to all of this for me is pure selfish protectionism. Were I to have the misfortune to collide with one of these motorized rug rats, I would be sued up the Kalamazoo into eternity. So on that note, I am very much for regulation and getting these froward miscreants off the road. Not that there is anything wrong with miscreants....
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Stunningly doused she was just as we were raising a toast to the marketing and PR team come to visit the new Bloviation's home. Doused by a skunk that is. Our dog that is. We haven't moved but three quarters of a mile from where we were but there seem to be exponentially more wildlife encounters. The oh-so-proper Londoners smiled politely but I think were inwardly horrified by the noxious odor of it all.
Later I bathed the dog but was unfortunately not prescient enough to don rubber gloves. So now not only the dog but I as well could use a visit to the groomer. I remember having heard that tomato juice works quite well to kill the smell but I only had ketchup which I squirted generously over her by then Pantene-shampoo-soaked fur. By the time I got her out of the bath, the bathroom looked like a legitimate candidate for a call to the Crime & Death Scene folks who had recently come to our home to rid the utility room of the cat urine smell. Only this time it would have been to clean up what looked like a gruesome murder: hair, dirt, and blood splotches (really ketchup) on the walls, floor and tub. The only thing missing was the knife.
The London folk wonder whether the upcoming U.S. elections could really be anywhere near a close call. They are utterly baffled by Bush's policies and can't imagine that half the country would ever consider re-electing him given his arrogantly rectitudinous record. I tell them my theory that I think many of the voters who voted for Bush in 2000 are so dead-dog tired at the end of the day from working three jobs and making ends meet that they are equally too dead-dog tired to realize that they have been bamboozled by this administration. They just want to sleep.
Later I bathed the dog but was unfortunately not prescient enough to don rubber gloves. So now not only the dog but I as well could use a visit to the groomer. I remember having heard that tomato juice works quite well to kill the smell but I only had ketchup which I squirted generously over her by then Pantene-shampoo-soaked fur. By the time I got her out of the bath, the bathroom looked like a legitimate candidate for a call to the Crime & Death Scene folks who had recently come to our home to rid the utility room of the cat urine smell. Only this time it would have been to clean up what looked like a gruesome murder: hair, dirt, and blood splotches (really ketchup) on the walls, floor and tub. The only thing missing was the knife.
The London folk wonder whether the upcoming U.S. elections could really be anywhere near a close call. They are utterly baffled by Bush's policies and can't imagine that half the country would ever consider re-electing him given his arrogantly rectitudinous record. I tell them my theory that I think many of the voters who voted for Bush in 2000 are so dead-dog tired at the end of the day from working three jobs and making ends meet that they are equally too dead-dog tired to realize that they have been bamboozled by this administration. They just want to sleep.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Favorite challenge: I dropped eleven semi-circle chrome shower hooks into her hand. "These are horrible. You pull the curtain and half of them fall off." A few moments later and I had returned the dozen-minus-one hooks without box or receipt. Now because I know everyone is thinking about shower hooks right now, I recommend you don't buy these.
Do you think I'll be able to exchange a Burnham gas boiler too? I hate the sound the fan makes. And I thought heating with gas was supposed to be quieter... Well I will solve this tranquility disturbance because that's what I do. Solve things. Either the plumbers adjust the fan or they give me a different boiler. Or they soundproof the utility room. Hubby says, "Verdamnt nochmals Anna, you can't return a gas unit..." "Just you watch Liebling."
Do you think I'll be able to exchange a Burnham gas boiler too? I hate the sound the fan makes. And I thought heating with gas was supposed to be quieter... Well I will solve this tranquility disturbance because that's what I do. Solve things. Either the plumbers adjust the fan or they give me a different boiler. Or they soundproof the utility room. Hubby says, "Verdamnt nochmals Anna, you can't return a gas unit..." "Just you watch Liebling."
Thursday, August 12, 2004
No hope for the next generation... You know things are bad when a few of the son's friends who are asked to help lift the queen size bed and put adhesive felt pads on the bottom of the legs to protect the wood floor from scratches PUT INSTEAD THE STICKY SIDE OF THE PADS ON THE FLOOR!!! God forbid hubby and I were to have romping sex and the bed were to jiggle a centimeter to the right....Oops. Or that the dog jumped up and it jiggled to the left. Or that we decided to move the bed to another location in which case four little round pads would be in all of their glorious view.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
"What time is it?"
"4:30 a.m."
"Let's finish putting the new door hardware in."
"It's 4:30 a.m."
"It will take Fran at least another day to do it because he doesn't like that the hardware is Italian-made and not a standard door knob he's used to."
"It's 4:30 a.m."
"We'll save a lot of money if we do it ourselves."
..."I'll make some coffee.."
"You're putting that color on the walls??"
"Yes."
"It's orange."
"No it's kind of a terra-cotta-ish, exotic spice, O'Keefe-esque, fall leaf color. Very sexy for the den."
"Don't I have any say?"
"No. You wanted strobe lights, a black leather couch, a mini-bar and wall-to-wall aquarium. If it would have fit you would have put a jacuzzi in here too. So, no I don't think so."
"But that's going to look horrible."
"We'll see. It's just paint. Worse case scenario we paint over it."
"It's a weird color."
"It looks glorious and you know it. In fact this will be my showcase example of 'before' and 'after' pictures as soon as I have time to post pictures."
For all of its weirdness, the wall color hasn't in the least stopped either kid from spending most of their time in that room.
"Can we have a party this weekend? Dave leaves for college on the 15th."
"Sure sweetie." Who cares if people are stepping over paint cans and carpenter tools. Or that on any given evening of late all I want to do is FALL into bed from exhaustion at 8 p.m. Note to self: Take an afternoon nap...
"4:30 a.m."
"Let's finish putting the new door hardware in."
"It's 4:30 a.m."
"It will take Fran at least another day to do it because he doesn't like that the hardware is Italian-made and not a standard door knob he's used to."
"It's 4:30 a.m."
"We'll save a lot of money if we do it ourselves."
..."I'll make some coffee.."
"You're putting that color on the walls??"
"Yes."
"It's orange."
"No it's kind of a terra-cotta-ish, exotic spice, O'Keefe-esque, fall leaf color. Very sexy for the den."
"Don't I have any say?"
"No. You wanted strobe lights, a black leather couch, a mini-bar and wall-to-wall aquarium. If it would have fit you would have put a jacuzzi in here too. So, no I don't think so."
"But that's going to look horrible."
"We'll see. It's just paint. Worse case scenario we paint over it."
"It's a weird color."
"It looks glorious and you know it. In fact this will be my showcase example of 'before' and 'after' pictures as soon as I have time to post pictures."
For all of its weirdness, the wall color hasn't in the least stopped either kid from spending most of their time in that room.
"Can we have a party this weekend? Dave leaves for college on the 15th."
"Sure sweetie." Who cares if people are stepping over paint cans and carpenter tools. Or that on any given evening of late all I want to do is FALL into bed from exhaustion at 8 p.m. Note to self: Take an afternoon nap...
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
"Do you see how fast it is now?"
"Yes, it is really much faster."
"No I mean isn't it fast?"
"Yes, it's great. It's really fast. And the black case matches the keyboard and monitor now too."
IT Boy, a.k.a. hubby, spent three hours working on the comatose computer when suddenly it came to life again. Except that it has amnesia and can't recall a single one of my now gone-for-good documents. It has had a face lift and so looks better. And with the hefty shot of multi-vitamins it got, it is now super fast. I think hubby is hoping this will make up for his having lost four months of my work. I guess the idea is that the computer will respond really quickly now and so I'll be able to make up for lost time faster? Like I said I can't be mad. No time. And that's what an eternally-optimistic-nothing-can-go-wrong person gets for not backing up her files....
"Yes, it is really much faster."
"No I mean isn't it fast?"
"Yes, it's great. It's really fast. And the black case matches the keyboard and monitor now too."
IT Boy, a.k.a. hubby, spent three hours working on the comatose computer when suddenly it came to life again. Except that it has amnesia and can't recall a single one of my now gone-for-good documents. It has had a face lift and so looks better. And with the hefty shot of multi-vitamins it got, it is now super fast. I think hubby is hoping this will make up for his having lost four months of my work. I guess the idea is that the computer will respond really quickly now and so I'll be able to make up for lost time faster? Like I said I can't be mad. No time. And that's what an eternally-optimistic-nothing-can-go-wrong person gets for not backing up her files....
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
At a bright and sunny 5 p.m., a fat raccoon pair waddled across the driveway of the new house like they owned the place. In fact they started to make themselves quite comfortable underneath my parked Audi (intrigued as they were that it wasn't an SUV I'm sure). "Git! Shoo!" I said and then jangled my car keys for good measure. This prompted a slow and petulant waddle on their part to the nearest tree. The female began her ascent but the male paused to look me squarely in the eye. To establish dominance you must establish eye contact and stare your opponent down until it acquiesces. Or so I had read. I stared. The raccoon looked bemused. Certainly not intimidated. "Chill,' it seemed to say.
Chill? Sure. How about you try juggling a potpourri of contractors, carpenters, electricians, plumbers, landscapers, painters, bankers, brokers and online suppliers between Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C (all three of which are ad lib and fluid at any given moment depending on the thermodynamic conditions of the day). I exaggerate. I love ordering all of these people around and to be honest I think I missed my calling as a Dominatrix.
The kids have never moved before and just don't understand the concept of what moving means. "We're moving Thursday," I remind them. "OK so we'll pack Thursday." "But you have at least two days worth of packing ahead..." And then there is hubby (bless his soul for he certainly meant well) who killed my computer. It can't be resuscitated at all and I lost a good chunk of my writing. " And then both kids go off to college at the end of the month and so there's that. Heh when Anna Bloviations stirs up the pot, she doesn't mess around!
"What are you doing?" the son asks as he passes me en route to the kitchen. "Spackling." "Spackling?" "Yes, spackling the nail holes." "Why?" "Because I want to leave the house nice for the next people." "Here is the box I packed," he says. "It's only half full with trophies," I say.. "You could put lots more in there." "You told me to pack my trophies Mom." Right...
I start growling and move menacingly toward the male raccoon. Who doesn't budge. Hmmm, a rabid raccoon perhaps? I glower and rattle my keys again until it finally vamooses. "I've got a whip with your name on it buddy..."
Chill? Sure. How about you try juggling a potpourri of contractors, carpenters, electricians, plumbers, landscapers, painters, bankers, brokers and online suppliers between Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C (all three of which are ad lib and fluid at any given moment depending on the thermodynamic conditions of the day). I exaggerate. I love ordering all of these people around and to be honest I think I missed my calling as a Dominatrix.
The kids have never moved before and just don't understand the concept of what moving means. "We're moving Thursday," I remind them. "OK so we'll pack Thursday." "But you have at least two days worth of packing ahead..." And then there is hubby (bless his soul for he certainly meant well) who killed my computer. It can't be resuscitated at all and I lost a good chunk of my writing. " And then both kids go off to college at the end of the month and so there's that. Heh when Anna Bloviations stirs up the pot, she doesn't mess around!
"What are you doing?" the son asks as he passes me en route to the kitchen. "Spackling." "Spackling?" "Yes, spackling the nail holes." "Why?" "Because I want to leave the house nice for the next people." "Here is the box I packed," he says. "It's only half full with trophies," I say.. "You could put lots more in there." "You told me to pack my trophies Mom." Right...
I start growling and move menacingly toward the male raccoon. Who doesn't budge. Hmmm, a rabid raccoon perhaps? I glower and rattle my keys again until it finally vamooses. "I've got a whip with your name on it buddy..."
Sunday, August 01, 2004
As stated earlier, my advice to any parent with kids bound for high school would be to start directing them towards vocational training. At the very least, encourage them to pursue the trades as a back-up plan to the $160K of primarily wasted money that goes toward today's undergraduate college experience and lands far too many graduates serving tables (in a down economy) or making $45K-75K starting salary a year (not bad but not great either). If they do land a job, god forbid it is an outsourceable (not a word, I know) one. Or woe if you are not at the top of the pack. A lay-off at the first downturn and bye, bye....
Compare the prospects of most college grads to the plumbing guys I've been dealing with lately to 1) convert from oil to gas 2) bring gas into my kitchen 3) re-connect an outdoor water spigot and 4) re-route an unsightly pipe protruding from a ceiling that had been simply boxed in with wood by someone who obviously had no aesthetic sensibilities. The plumber has job security and earning potential to make a UPenn business grad salivate. Let's break this down. None of the afore mentioned projects can be undertaken by the layman. Nor can they be outsourced. Granted everything mentioned above is optional so one could argue that in economically shaky times, these plumbers would be sitting around twiddling their thumbs. Wrong. If anything prompts you to dial the first plumber in the telephone book without the slightest thought to cost it's a backed up toilet. Or sink. Or a frozen pipe.
Own a plumbing company and you are bringing in a million dollars a year. Work for a plumbing company and you are the highest paid tradesman in the industry. The adorable plumber squeezed into the crawl space below my California house trying to find a water pipe that leads outside just bought a house up the road from our old house for $479K. I bet he isn't a day past thirty. For those parents who would wrinkle their noses at the thought of their 'genuis' child becoming a plumber, think of it this way: after depositing his soggy but SUBSTANTIAL paycheck into the bank on the way home, all the plumber then needs is a good hot shower to wash off all the gunk. But he's a plumber of course -- so no problem...
Still not convinced? Ok then think of it this way: unless we start giving some real incentives to businesses to keep jobs here in the States, my predicition is that the plumbing trade will become an even more lucrative trade as thousands of basements are retro-fitted with bathrooms and kitchenettes to accomodate the young adults forced back to their parents' homes because they simply can't find a job. I don't know about you but...
Compare the prospects of most college grads to the plumbing guys I've been dealing with lately to 1) convert from oil to gas 2) bring gas into my kitchen 3) re-connect an outdoor water spigot and 4) re-route an unsightly pipe protruding from a ceiling that had been simply boxed in with wood by someone who obviously had no aesthetic sensibilities. The plumber has job security and earning potential to make a UPenn business grad salivate. Let's break this down. None of the afore mentioned projects can be undertaken by the layman. Nor can they be outsourced. Granted everything mentioned above is optional so one could argue that in economically shaky times, these plumbers would be sitting around twiddling their thumbs. Wrong. If anything prompts you to dial the first plumber in the telephone book without the slightest thought to cost it's a backed up toilet. Or sink. Or a frozen pipe.
Own a plumbing company and you are bringing in a million dollars a year. Work for a plumbing company and you are the highest paid tradesman in the industry. The adorable plumber squeezed into the crawl space below my California house trying to find a water pipe that leads outside just bought a house up the road from our old house for $479K. I bet he isn't a day past thirty. For those parents who would wrinkle their noses at the thought of their 'genuis' child becoming a plumber, think of it this way: after depositing his soggy but SUBSTANTIAL paycheck into the bank on the way home, all the plumber then needs is a good hot shower to wash off all the gunk. But he's a plumber of course -- so no problem...
Still not convinced? Ok then think of it this way: unless we start giving some real incentives to businesses to keep jobs here in the States, my predicition is that the plumbing trade will become an even more lucrative trade as thousands of basements are retro-fitted with bathrooms and kitchenettes to accomodate the young adults forced back to their parents' homes because they simply can't find a job. I don't know about you but...
