Bad Mac

My computer decided to fill up the hard drive. Being such a nice machine it gave me no advance notice, as it didn't really want to bother me with such a small inconsequential thing as no computer access.

Life in a small town does not accord people the option of just driving to the nearest computer shop, dropping off the broken machine, and returning to pick it up, all fixed. Nope, not in my town.

First I drove around to locate the computer store, which by the way is also the phone/fax/copy store. Went in. Talked to the Apple specialist dude. He is the only Apple dude in 100 miles. 100 miles! no one else. Made arrangements to drop off the ailing machine. Drove home. Drove back. Apple dude had been fired.

I kid you not. In that short amount of time, fired. No idea why. Now we have no one in 100 miles. Dropped it off with someone I am pretty sure was in junior high last year. Explained the problem. Explained the problem again. Explained the problem again and with some poorly drawn stick computers showing said problems. Explained the problem loudly and with hand gestures. Finally a small light bulb, probably a 1-1/2 watt, went off, I was instructed to leave it and could expect a phone call when it was ready.

Drove home.

Found a message on my phone, it was fixed. I live 10 minutes with TRAFFIC from the computer store. Had a cold drink. Did some breathing exercises. Tried to find a zen attitude. Called back. Explained the problem. Would have tried explaining the problem in a foreign language if I spoke one. Started to hyperventilate. Asked for someone else, anyone, anyone. Next person seemed to at least understand said problem. Would call me when it was fixed.

Two hours went by with no call and I took that as a good sign. Two weeks went by with no call, good sign had long since dissipated. Two weeks and four days, the call finally arrived.

Drove over yesterday and picked it up. Paid a small fortune. Drove home and fired up the baby. Used my password, the mac shook its little password box back and forth to make a giant NO. Thought I had been away so long that I had forgotten my own password, looked it up, typed it again, again with the giant NO. This time I thought it really was giving me some serious attitude. On and on this went, me typing, mac denying me access, each time with a little bit more mocking and judging. I ended up in the dining room, crying about the unfairness of life while two dogs thought I had seriously lost my friggin mind.

Called the computer store. Twenty-seven hours later I retrieved my new password with a jaunty laugh and an Oops, so sorry, probably should have told you I changed all the passwords. My new password:

password. Yep, no one is going to guess that one in a million years.

It's coming back

Starting tomorrow I will be back to posting about the exciting time that is my life. Gosh, that is so funny!

I would start today, but I seemed to have misplaced the camera cord and I just got my computer back from the shop, in which case the store changed my password and neglected to tell me what it is.

Life in a small town is some times filled with interesting challenges.

Summer

Rain. Oh my god, the rain. It is lasting forever. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, we are used to the rain. Rain clouds, drizzle, rain, rain jokes, moss, mold, rain, mildew, wet, damp, soaked, drowned, rain. If it is a rain product, we have seen it. Felt it. Lived in it.

The days now are filled with it. Endless. Oh, so gray. So dreary. So tiring. Puddles, mud, wet smelly dogs, dirty floors. Oh, it just surrounds me. And I am so exhausted by it.

We have one day of no rain and I spend the entire day outside on the back deck, in the cold, trying to fill up on sun. Enough sun to keep me going. Trying to remember what summer looks like. Is it dry? Pretty? Filled with colors other than so many shades of gray? I swear I can't remember summer. The rains, the drizzle, the downpours, they return, again and again.

I turn on lights inside the house at 2:00 in the afternoon. It is dark and dreary by 4:00. I am ready for bed before dinner. I feel my energy level slip lower and lower into the nothing regions. I eat snacks. I watch way too much television. I doze on the couch. I forget my own name.

I know summer will return. But oh how it goes by so fast, while the dreary wet winter lingers on with a super glue grip.

*Sigh*

It is all good

Well, I am officially divorced. And officially no longer a homeowner in Seattle.

It feels different and good. Scary and weird. I have my own schedule and now my own life. This is a whole new experience. The last time I was on my own, I was eighteen years old. EIGHTEEN years old! A baby really. Now I am forty-six and still a baby.

I run a list of things I need to do. Of things I want to accomplish. I am starting out small, with baby steps. Little things that wouldn't mean much to others, but mean a whole lot to me. I feel shaky inside. Some days I feel absolutely terrified.

All these feelings are good, normal, to be expected but scary nonetheless. And exhilarating. And exhausting.

February 1st is the big kick off. A new last name, still not picked out. New credit cards in my OWN name. A vacation planned just for me. Home remodeling in just my style. New hair. New tattoo. A new me? nah, just an improved version of the same old me.

One thing I have discovered in this sea of confusion and disarray, is the fact that I like me. The flaws. The strengths. The scars. The whole package. It is all good.

Now, if I just had a last name, it would be perfect.

I'm baaaaaaack

Hello again.

I have been busy setting up for Christmas. This is my favorite time of the year and the fact that I have no cash has not deterred me from decorating. If you have glue, glitter, paper and ribbon, you can almost create the entire holiday from scratch.

I have gone a total vintage theme this year and I am in love with it. I will post pictures later this week. I have bought only two things this season. One is the color wheel for my aluminum tree and one giant apothecary jar (that was on sale!) to hold the fake snowballs I made. I want to show the tree with the color wheel, so that is why the pictures will be posted later.

In other wonderful news, my new relationship is going fantastic. I went to Los Angeles for a vacation and oh my gosh, it was nirvana. The sun, the sun, the sun! those people sure have a lot of sun! We spent most of our time in a town that I believe is called Channel Islands, it is by Oxnard or something like that. Anyway, it totally beautiful. It is right on the water and all these houses are located on little canals. I hope to live there someday, right after I win the lottery and can afford something. It was so relaxing and warm, plus the company was awesome.

The kid came home for Thanksgiving and that was just the icing on the cake. He returns home for the Christmas season this week and all will be awesome in my world.

The ex is still a dork. The money and job situation is worse than ever but I am remaining focused and positive. Maybe I will receive a Christmas miracle.

The dogs are both well and just as insane as always. Hope all is well with you and you are having a wonderful start to the holiday season.

Fun facts

Random fun facts of my life these days.

The shoe has decided to grace my life with its presence. I thank the home for returning my shoe right before the 40 days and 40 nights of horrible rain we are having arrived. I really needed it to start building my ark and getting ready for the swarm of locusts that I expect will also show up sometime soon.

My I-phone has decided to speak German and only German. No other languages shall be accepted. What happens if I don't speak German? Nothing. It is trying to teach me a lesson in how pissed off can one person get before they huck the phone into the ocean. What is has taught me is that apple SUCKS and I will never update my I-phone again.

Olive has learned to get into my bed. My high four poster beautiful linen covered sanctuary. I now may or may not be missing a kidney. Also, I will never sleep as deeply as I once did before 68 lbs of dog landed directly on my middle. In the dark. In the middle of the night. Totally unannounced and frankly, unwanted.

My garage has flooded.

My windshield wipers are broken on my car and my model of Range Rover is the ONLY year you need to have a service man put them on. I am number 62 on the wait list and scheduled for the first part of July. That is SO helpful.

I have had to touch goo to unplug the storm drain in front of my home. Of course, I waited until my driveway had flooded with enough pebbles and sand that I could easily open my own gravel pit. Funny enough, I thought the city took care of their own storm drains. Turns out, NO.

The push broom I own has the broom part but no handle. How exactly do you lose the handle to a broom?

I hope everyone is having as much fun in their day to day lives as I am.

Laundry Chutes are dangerous

Did you think I was gone for good?

Nope, just trying to get my life sorted out.

I am on a laundry kick. With only one person, you can go a whole lotta time before you do laundry but eventually you open the pants drawer, to find, no pants. Wow! how does that happen? So I put on a pair of sweats and march all the way to the basement. To the basement laundry room where creepy crawlies exist and I try to stay out of it.

How strange! no pants in the laundry hamper. I am officially pant less. I accuse Olive and she wags her tail, which I have no idea what that means and I'm pretty sure she has no idea either. I trot back upstairs, no pants. Now I am not the smartest bulb in the world but I am pretty sure I own pants. Pants that for the life of me I cannot find.

I head over to the laundry chute. Now I have an old house. In the olden days, men planned the homes and built the homes but women were expected to run them. So it is nice in the old house that I drive right into the garage with a lovely tool bench and power galore. Men needed that and it was convenient that it was so close to them. Men however, did not need the laundry room and therefore it is located the furthest distance from the point of dirty clothes, in the basement right next to the furnace, the coal chute, the water tank, and the sump pump to keep the basement dry. I know, it is so brilliant to put it right there.

Of course, three flights of stairs up is where all the dirty stuff accumulates, so they gave the old house a laundry chute, going down. Going up, is a whole different ball game. It involves a woman, baskets, trying to see around the giant load of towels and not falling all the way back down the stairs. Add in two dogs twirling around and it is just a match made in heaven.

So today I peer down the laundry chute. It is dark. I reach my hand down and can feel something, which I desperately hope is clothes. I decide to get the broom. I will use the broom to shove the blockage down the laundry chute. Down the stairs I go and retrieve the broom. Up stairs I go. I shove and shove and push and push. Nothing happens. I have now made a lovely tight brick of clothes that are plugging the chute. I go to the second floor and open up the second door to the chute, nothing, which means it is somehow wedged up on the first floor.

I trudge back upstairs to access the problem. Of course, the dogs think this is a fine game and lets just play it all day long. I sweep the stairs, since they are covered in dog hair and I have the broom out. Then in hits me. I will throw something VERY HEAVY down the opening, it will knock the wedge of clothes loose and victory shall be mine.

Hmmmm! what to throw? Then it comes to me, my shoe. My tennis shoe. I have ginormous feet and that should just send those stupid clothes plummeting to the basement with my shoe on top, like a cherry on top of a sundae. I get the shoe. I go upstairs to the laundry chute. I huck that shoe for all it is worth. I wait for the lovely sound of clothes falling. I hear . . . nothing.

Nothing! that was a giant shoe. How did my brilliant plan not work?

I stare down into blackness. I go back to the second floor and stare up into blackness. I reach up and touch a shoe lace. I yank. Nothing. I yank harder. Still nothing. I go back upstairs, I shove that broom with all my might and I use some curse words for good measure.

Everything gives way. The broom shoots out of my hand and down the chute. I lose my balance and hit my head on the wall. I hear the clothes falling and it is a lovely sound. I am gleeful. I make the dogs sing "I am women, hear me roar."

I run downstairs to see pants, lots and lots of pants. I start to separate the clothes, when it hits me, where is the shoe? Shouldn't the shoe be on top of the heap. Where in the hell is the cherry shoe.

I can barely crawl up the stairs. I totally am in major hatred of the laundry chute. I look up and down on the second floor, I look down from the top floor. I get the broom and huck it down the chute. It comes out, with no shoe. I can feel the laces but no matter how hard I pull that shoe is wedged somewhere in the chute. I am not singing anymore. That shoe is still in there.

So the good news, is I now have pants but I will be wearing flip-flops for the winter since my shoe is vacationing inside my house. Literally.