In theory, it's nice to be the handy one in the house. In reality, it blows. Two Christmases ago, I installed some track lighting in my parents' basement. It was a bit jerry-rigged because the wiring and ceiling was not designed for this kind of fixture. A while ago one of the two lights came down. Which means that I have to fix it. And I wouldn't mind if I actually had the proper tools for the job. But instead of a cordless power drill and vise-grip (oh, and non ancient, crumbly ceiling tiles to try to anchor on), all I have to work with is a phillips-head screwdriver and crappy pliers (non-needlenose). Now I have some new screw anchors, but no way to drill them into the base or ceiling. Oh, and the fixture weighs about 20lbs, it's awkward, and I have to do it overhead. All of this in the same house where I don't rank a bed.
Well now I know what my parents are getting for Christmas next year - decent tools!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Blast from the past
A bit out of the blue, I got an email from an old friend. A shot in the dark to see if we might be in the same place at the same time long enough for a beverage. He and I worked for Virginia Shakespeare Festival in 2001, and I haven't seen him in so many years.
It was a blast to see an old friend. We talked about our respective PhD programs and sisters and such. Very holiday both in the chance to see old friends and the out-of-context-ness.
After coffee, he headed to a conference, and I made the mistake of trying to run errands at the mall. I park on the top level anyways, but clearly underestimated the insanity, to say nothing of the alien chi-chi of Tysons.
And while I still had the car (it sucks having to share), I got to see K, my mentor and local snark-partner. It's always good to catch up, especially if it is over coffee or cobbler!
on the tube: The Tudors 2.2
It was a blast to see an old friend. We talked about our respective PhD programs and sisters and such. Very holiday both in the chance to see old friends and the out-of-context-ness.
After coffee, he headed to a conference, and I made the mistake of trying to run errands at the mall. I park on the top level anyways, but clearly underestimated the insanity, to say nothing of the alien chi-chi of Tysons.
And while I still had the car (it sucks having to share), I got to see K, my mentor and local snark-partner. It's always good to catch up, especially if it is over coffee or cobbler!
on the tube: The Tudors 2.2
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
New Christmas tradition?
To celebrate the baby sister turning 21, the 5 of us went to the bar. Right now, this is perfect, since we are all hip to the bar scene, and the Dude is old enough to get into bars but not old enough to drink, giving us an automatic designated driver.
Originally, we were supposed to go out on Tuesday, the first night all 5 of us were in the same place. But it was not so organized, and we were all tired from our various projects of the day (work/baking/traveling/etc). Instead, we ended up at the bar after Christmas Eve dinner.
Fashionista found a pub a mile from home. It was surprisingly crowded. While I knew it wouldn't be empty, I didn't expect that many layers of humanity between me and the bartender. To celebrate the Fashionista's 21st, we did a bartender's choice of shot, that was impressively palatable. Then moved on to round 2. We scored 2 barstools and chatted amongst ourselves mostly, although Fashionista did have a boy buy her a drink. The same boy we asked to guess oldest/youngest. To his credit, he identified me as the oldest. I'm guessing it was my calm demeanor that gave it away. Whatever it was, I was vindicated.
I think the Dude felt a little awkward having to hang out in a bar and protect 4 women. And it's funny for us who see him as the baby in the family.
I'm not sure how I feel about it all. On one hand, it was fun to hang out like people and not siblings. On the other, there is something so wrong about piling into the minivan, on Christmas Eve, to get your drunk on. That said, it already feels like a new tradition.
Now I lounge on the couch, watch some guilty-pleasure TV with a mild buzz, grateful that Santa didn't come early.
Originally, we were supposed to go out on Tuesday, the first night all 5 of us were in the same place. But it was not so organized, and we were all tired from our various projects of the day (work/baking/traveling/etc). Instead, we ended up at the bar after Christmas Eve dinner.
Fashionista found a pub a mile from home. It was surprisingly crowded. While I knew it wouldn't be empty, I didn't expect that many layers of humanity between me and the bartender. To celebrate the Fashionista's 21st, we did a bartender's choice of shot, that was impressively palatable. Then moved on to round 2. We scored 2 barstools and chatted amongst ourselves mostly, although Fashionista did have a boy buy her a drink. The same boy we asked to guess oldest/youngest. To his credit, he identified me as the oldest. I'm guessing it was my calm demeanor that gave it away. Whatever it was, I was vindicated.
I think the Dude felt a little awkward having to hang out in a bar and protect 4 women. And it's funny for us who see him as the baby in the family.
I'm not sure how I feel about it all. On one hand, it was fun to hang out like people and not siblings. On the other, there is something so wrong about piling into the minivan, on Christmas Eve, to get your drunk on. That said, it already feels like a new tradition.
Now I lounge on the couch, watch some guilty-pleasure TV with a mild buzz, grateful that Santa didn't come early.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
My princess existence
For the past few days, I have been kickin' it princess style. I wake up at 2PM (I blame my vampire habits and my internal California clock). I loaf around the apartment until I get bored with that, and then I call NonSmokin' Fairy to pick my butt up. You see, I have no car here in Athens. And since I am squatting at Lil Sis' apartment (which she keeps toasty), I am up on a hill. It's too damn cold to walk far, especially if I have my knight in shining Prelude to schlep me around. My only objection to my princess existence is the ice. It is very un-princess-like to skid and crack your butt on the icy pavement. I have managed to stay vertical thus far.
But it's awesome! I am casually reading random books, not thinking too much about UCSB crap, just living in my happy hedonistic moment. Last night, I had pizza with a friend, and then we headed over to Rardon for Get Smart and baked goods (including super gooey-yummy caramel brownies that I helped with). The movie was appropriately silly and enhanced by the mild sugar-shock we all were in.
I guess I should think about putting on some non-jammers and be social. Oh, and find the earflap I KNOW I packed.
on Jango: Hot Chip - "I Don't Know the Half..."
But it's awesome! I am casually reading random books, not thinking too much about UCSB crap, just living in my happy hedonistic moment. Last night, I had pizza with a friend, and then we headed over to Rardon for Get Smart and baked goods (including super gooey-yummy caramel brownies that I helped with). The movie was appropriately silly and enhanced by the mild sugar-shock we all were in.
I guess I should think about putting on some non-jammers and be social. Oh, and find the earflap I KNOW I packed.
on Jango: Hot Chip - "I Don't Know the Half..."
Monday, December 15, 2008
Skippers is the new Gator
I have done more drinking, laughing, and geeky frivolity in the past couple of days than I have in weeks. (Like since the last time I was in Athens.)
NonSmokin' Fairy and I were pretty much chillin' and hating on the airlines when Riff recommended shooting some pool at Skippers. He and I got there first, chatted with the bartender and quickly became the only people in the bar. They have over a dozen beers on tap and a bartender who was willing to keep the bar open just for us theatre kids. AND he wants to re-institute Martini Night, since Gator is no longer. (There was much sadness all around, because that was our bar). Basically his logic is to support the kids who support the bar. Woot!
There was beer. And crappy pool. To the point that we had to invent a new game - Blue Ball (the 8 ball seemed magnetically attracted to the pockets). And that went downhill very fast as well all let our inner 12-year olds run loose. And between shots, we tried to gross each other out with horror stories about bugs. I will NEVER live in Texas, but I'm glad A. did, because his impression of a scorpion on his chest was priceless.
Last night, NonSmokin' Fairy and I had some lunch at BW3, only to return there later with some of the other designers for beverages. Closed that place out and rolled down to Tony's, and eventually Goodfellas. I was bummin' because O'Betty's is closed for break. But so much fun, drinking cranberry-vodkas (unlike the cranberry-rubbing alcohol I seemed to have ordered at Chocolate in SBA), gossipping about people and shows and general bullshit. Ah.
Now I am curled up under a voluminous comforter on Lil Sis' couch, watching her DVDs, eating a pumpkin spice Krispy Kreme. I should do some yoga or pushups or such, but it would kinda kil the hedonistic buzz.
NonSmokin' Fairy and I were pretty much chillin' and hating on the airlines when Riff recommended shooting some pool at Skippers. He and I got there first, chatted with the bartender and quickly became the only people in the bar. They have over a dozen beers on tap and a bartender who was willing to keep the bar open just for us theatre kids. AND he wants to re-institute Martini Night, since Gator is no longer. (There was much sadness all around, because that was our bar). Basically his logic is to support the kids who support the bar. Woot!
There was beer. And crappy pool. To the point that we had to invent a new game - Blue Ball (the 8 ball seemed magnetically attracted to the pockets). And that went downhill very fast as well all let our inner 12-year olds run loose. And between shots, we tried to gross each other out with horror stories about bugs. I will NEVER live in Texas, but I'm glad A. did, because his impression of a scorpion on his chest was priceless.
Last night, NonSmokin' Fairy and I had some lunch at BW3, only to return there later with some of the other designers for beverages. Closed that place out and rolled down to Tony's, and eventually Goodfellas. I was bummin' because O'Betty's is closed for break. But so much fun, drinking cranberry-vodkas (unlike the cranberry-rubbing alcohol I seemed to have ordered at Chocolate in SBA), gossipping about people and shows and general bullshit. Ah.
Now I am curled up under a voluminous comforter on Lil Sis' couch, watching her DVDs, eating a pumpkin spice Krispy Kreme. I should do some yoga or pushups or such, but it would kinda kil the hedonistic buzz.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Winter Break
12/13/8 7.14PM PST
It couldn’t come soon enough. And now that I am on a plane headed east, I will declare it officially winter break. If nothing else, I was running around too much yesterday to really consider it a break until now.
Wednesday, SuperK turned in our African Theater papers, because he is the social one at 8AM, and he needed to head to the building anyways. I got a couple hours sleep before meeting a professor for a meeting that might just be more flabberwhelming during/after than it even was before. When I got home from that (and returning one of the piles of books that SuperK and I had checked out for the paper), I scratched my head over the whole meeting, then proceeded to write my grading memo for Pedagogy. How do you grade yourself? Without using personal OR passive? For a self-described medieval teacher? But once that was sent off, SuperK and I could watch all the stuff on the DVR we had recorded, guilt-free as we hash over some of the final minutia of the quarter, including my meeting, the responses to the grading memos, and the impressive apathy in the apartment. And of course, some snarking about our least favorite people.
That night, another grad invited us over for dinner. She used to be a chef (frommagier to be specific); her research is food; she has pretty food art at her apartment. Needless to say her “simple,” and “just homestyle” was still some of the best stuff we had eaten in weeks. Chicken kebabs with homemade yogurt sauce, Armenian-style stuffed grape leaves, rice and salad. Yum! It was extra-special since the night before, SuperK and I were eating cold nachos as we were reading each other’s papers. It’s just fun to hang out with people, especially without the guilt or deadlines.
Today, SuperK drove me down to LAX, and my what a beautiful drive it is. Sparkling water, green mountains, palm trees. Oh and the damn 405. But SuperK is much more conscientious and punctual than I, so I got to the airport with plenty of time. I was more impressed how much stuff I managed to cram into my carry-on. What will be even more impressive – the pile of stuff I must have forgotten in order to pull that off.
Now that the quarter is over, perhaps I can try to play a little catch up with my blogging.
It couldn’t come soon enough. And now that I am on a plane headed east, I will declare it officially winter break. If nothing else, I was running around too much yesterday to really consider it a break until now.
Wednesday, SuperK turned in our African Theater papers, because he is the social one at 8AM, and he needed to head to the building anyways. I got a couple hours sleep before meeting a professor for a meeting that might just be more flabberwhelming during/after than it even was before. When I got home from that (and returning one of the piles of books that SuperK and I had checked out for the paper), I scratched my head over the whole meeting, then proceeded to write my grading memo for Pedagogy. How do you grade yourself? Without using personal OR passive? For a self-described medieval teacher? But once that was sent off, SuperK and I could watch all the stuff on the DVR we had recorded, guilt-free as we hash over some of the final minutia of the quarter, including my meeting, the responses to the grading memos, and the impressive apathy in the apartment. And of course, some snarking about our least favorite people.
That night, another grad invited us over for dinner. She used to be a chef (frommagier to be specific); her research is food; she has pretty food art at her apartment. Needless to say her “simple,” and “just homestyle” was still some of the best stuff we had eaten in weeks. Chicken kebabs with homemade yogurt sauce, Armenian-style stuffed grape leaves, rice and salad. Yum! It was extra-special since the night before, SuperK and I were eating cold nachos as we were reading each other’s papers. It’s just fun to hang out with people, especially without the guilt or deadlines.
Today, SuperK drove me down to LAX, and my what a beautiful drive it is. Sparkling water, green mountains, palm trees. Oh and the damn 405. But SuperK is much more conscientious and punctual than I, so I got to the airport with plenty of time. I was more impressed how much stuff I managed to cram into my carry-on. What will be even more impressive – the pile of stuff I must have forgotten in order to pull that off.
Now that the quarter is over, perhaps I can try to play a little catch up with my blogging.
Friday, December 12, 2008
DMV Madness
I finally decided that it was time to change my residency to California. The election has passed (I wanted to vote in Virginia); tax time is coming up; and I have to renew my VA license if I don't replace it first. To say nothing of in-state/out-of-state tuition considerations for next year.
Now that I have my brain and time back after the end of quarter, I decided to just get that done. SuperK warned me about taking the written test, so I picked up the booklet. And today, I got up damn early to spend 2.5 hours and close to $200 not really accomplishing anything. It's extremely frustrating.
In an attempt to head off some of the inevitable DMV-BS, I came prepared with my completed paperwork, passport and ready to take the test. And it started just fine, but quickly went downhill. The woman at the first window was super-pleasant and helpful, gave me my number and checked my paperwork. Second window then asked where my titling paperwork was for my car (why get a CA license if you don't have a car to drive?). I tried to explain that I wasn't ready to move my car into CA yet, since my title still has the lienholder (the Civic is all paid off, thank you very much), and I am waiting for my student loan to come through so I can fix her so she can pass the Smog test. But the chyck insisted on pre-registering the car. Which translates to me giving her lots of money with nothing but a 60-day sticker and promise to come back to the DMV. Grr. She also charged me fees for not registering the car in CA within 20 days of crossing state lines, even though technically, I was not a resident until today (no lease, no job, etc).
Fine. It's not like I needed that cash or anything. To say nothing of the lovely fact I get to come back AGAIN!
At Window #3 I had another personable woman who was nice right up until she refused to believe that I was born in 1979. Like she checked both my VA license and my passport, then made her supervisor check. *sigh* While I appreciate looking young, I don't appreciate getting hassled by people about it (DMV, carded for EVERYTHING, including the occasional Rated-R movie). Extra burn - I was wearing my grown-up clothes that day. In the end, they accepted it, mostly because I was just about growling.
Next, they slide me over to take my picture. I briefly thought I had escaped the written test, but no such luck. That said, I totally aced it (even if people looked at me funny as I used my hands to visualize which direction to turn your wheels on an incline without a curb).
The ultimate insult came next. I had jumped through hoops, passed tests, paid money. But instead of a shiny new California license, I get a wad of half-sheets to carry around until my REAL license arrives in 2-8 weeks. WHAT?! And those papers that now take up half my wallet are my legal license. And to make that point, they punched a freakin' hole in my VA license!! Thanks guys. In case I don't have enough trouble convincing people it's not a fake because a) it's out of state and b) I apparently look 12, now I have to explain why I have a hole in my license. Ugh.
I hate that after all of that, nothing really got done. And after that experience, I probably have a really surly license pic.
Now that I have my brain and time back after the end of quarter, I decided to just get that done. SuperK warned me about taking the written test, so I picked up the booklet. And today, I got up damn early to spend 2.5 hours and close to $200 not really accomplishing anything. It's extremely frustrating.
In an attempt to head off some of the inevitable DMV-BS, I came prepared with my completed paperwork, passport and ready to take the test. And it started just fine, but quickly went downhill. The woman at the first window was super-pleasant and helpful, gave me my number and checked my paperwork. Second window then asked where my titling paperwork was for my car (why get a CA license if you don't have a car to drive?). I tried to explain that I wasn't ready to move my car into CA yet, since my title still has the lienholder (the Civic is all paid off, thank you very much), and I am waiting for my student loan to come through so I can fix her so she can pass the Smog test. But the chyck insisted on pre-registering the car. Which translates to me giving her lots of money with nothing but a 60-day sticker and promise to come back to the DMV. Grr. She also charged me fees for not registering the car in CA within 20 days of crossing state lines, even though technically, I was not a resident until today (no lease, no job, etc).
Fine. It's not like I needed that cash or anything. To say nothing of the lovely fact I get to come back AGAIN!
At Window #3 I had another personable woman who was nice right up until she refused to believe that I was born in 1979. Like she checked both my VA license and my passport, then made her supervisor check. *sigh* While I appreciate looking young, I don't appreciate getting hassled by people about it (DMV, carded for EVERYTHING, including the occasional Rated-R movie). Extra burn - I was wearing my grown-up clothes that day. In the end, they accepted it, mostly because I was just about growling.
Next, they slide me over to take my picture. I briefly thought I had escaped the written test, but no such luck. That said, I totally aced it (even if people looked at me funny as I used my hands to visualize which direction to turn your wheels on an incline without a curb).
The ultimate insult came next. I had jumped through hoops, passed tests, paid money. But instead of a shiny new California license, I get a wad of half-sheets to carry around until my REAL license arrives in 2-8 weeks. WHAT?! And those papers that now take up half my wallet are my legal license. And to make that point, they punched a freakin' hole in my VA license!! Thanks guys. In case I don't have enough trouble convincing people it's not a fake because a) it's out of state and b) I apparently look 12, now I have to explain why I have a hole in my license. Ugh.
I hate that after all of that, nothing really got done. And after that experience, I probably have a really surly license pic.
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