Unexpected Detour

Coming home from the Comets game tonight, I found the freeway at a complete stop... just an exit or two before Loop 610, where I normally exit.

So, I bailed off on an uncharted street. The initial neighborhood that I passed through was a little scary, but I knew I would soon be in comfortable (if not safe) territory. And I was.

I eventually found myself a block from an ex's house.

And for reasons that cannot be explained by alcohol (2 beers in 4 hours) or conscious curiosity (I'm not prepared to comment on the unconscious), I diverted my path to drive by the house.

Please note that while I experienced no emotion, whatsoever, from the 'drive by'... I did note that the landscaping that I busted my back over... seems to be thriving.

At least SOMEthing good and long lasting came from the relationship.

Things You Can Count On, Things You Can't

That's the way life is.

I'm usually pretty perceptive, and my intuition is close to 100% accurate.

I find myself dead wrong, though, in one big leap of faith that I've taken.

Thinking back on it... the signals were there. I've either been too busy to indulge in the doubts... or maybe they slapped me in the face, and I found it more convenient and easier to ignore them.

And now I'm left in a mess with a short time line (fuse) that while it feels like a total shock... it's not.

If It Weren't for Bad Luck...

I'd have no luck at all.

Little did I know as a child, listening to that song on Hee Haw... that it was written about me.

I came home today to find the television off. (I leave it on everyday for Miss C's viewing pleasure). It came on when I turned it on, and ran autoprogram. I didn't think much of it, since we've had storms today.

I plugged the iron in to iron clothes for the Comets game tonight, and the light dimmed. I thought it odd, but didn't worry too much about it.

As I waited for the iron to heat, I noticed that the a/c didn't seem to be cooling. I checked the thermostat and it was 80, but set on 78. I went outside and discovered that the condensor wasn't running. I came back in to make sure that the thermostat hadn't accidentally been turned onto "fan" from "automatic". To do that, I turned the hall light on, and as soon as I turned the fan "off"... the hall light, iron and dressing room lights went off. Other lights, fans and the bedroom tv were off, as well... the rest on.

So... I checked the electrical box. Everything was on, but I turned each breaker off and back on. Still nothing.

There was nothing else to do, but call MMSP. He talked me through a bunch of different scenarios, and then called an electrician for me. His guy was at the hospital with his wife who had surgery today. So I called the guy who installed my a/c seven years ago, and who was highly recommended by my next door neighbor.

And what a guy he was... getting here in less than fifteen minutes. He said it was as he suspected, I only had 110 coming into the panel. A transformer had blown, he said.

So... I called CenterPoint Energy, nestled myself into a chair on hold, for thirty five minutes... with the cell phone on my other ear, talking to everyone I had alerted of (disturbed with) my problem. I was told by CP, that 73 customers were affected by the problem and that a truck had been dispatched two minutes earlier.

And here I sit, three hours later. I just called CenterPoint again and they said the problem had been resolved. (Geez... I'm glad I called again).

I told them my story all over again, and they said they would send someone else out here. And here I sit...

• in the dark, so I don't add heat to the house
• clothed in as next to nothing as you can wear and still have your privates covered...
• in a house that wreaks of wet dog and mildew (due to a roof leak I'm trying to get fixed!).
• wringing wet with sweat and smelling like an old tennis shoe.
• it's 82 degrees in here and about 98% humidity, and I only have power to two ceiling fans.
• the only place it's hotter is outside, where I have one ceiling fan working, on the porch.
• missing a Comets game with the only decent give-away (for the first 3000).
• listening to the game on the internet: (1) they're winning their third game this season, and (2) Mistie Williams is getting playing time. (3) and now the Comets have won the game, to become 3 and 11... My friends will likely not allow me to attend another game.
• my poor Miss C is panting and pacing and miserable.
• and I'm feeling hopeless.
• really hopeless.
• seriously. really, really hopeless.
• well... at least I have my internet.

$3 Worth of Superstition

I'm not superstitious about anything... but Comets games.

For example, I never wear red to the games, because since the 5th season (and our first to be displaced as WNBA Champions), every time I do... we lose.

So, having purchased a $3 box of popcorn, on the night of our first win, from our favorite aisle vendor... I decided I should keep the tradition alive last night, in spite of the fact that I wasn't hungry.

Having winced with hunger when I left that first box behind, I made a special effort to remember to bring the second box home. And settled in, this rainy day after... just me, Miss C and that box of popcorn. We watched an old 'Dennis The Menace' move and munched... until...

I broke a tooth on a hidden kernel.

Suddenly my luck has turned.

So here I am, NOW... working overtime. And instead of working to get ahead (to pay for a leaking roof), I'm working to maintain status quo... AGAIN.

Coincidence Or Conspiracy?

Comcast took over the Time Warner territory of Houston this week, meaning that I lost tv channels, gained other tv channels, and...

My internet service is fits and spurts (this being a spurt), and otherwise, dead as a doornail... and has been since yesterday.

I called technical assistance, and here's a synopsis:

• you shouldn't have to press 1 to continue in English
• the helpful message that says you can register your problem more quickly by logging onto "double u double u double u dot comcast dot com" only works if you actually have ACCESS TO THE FREAKIN' INTERNET.
• I was on hold for 22 minutes!
• technician asks me if I've checked the connections... cable, network, power. Oh my, smart sir, you mean it might be as simple as a connection in this room??? Give me a break. Had I rather hold this phone to my ear for half an hour, or crawl behind the desk and make damn sure it's not something I can fix myself????
• technician tells me that I would be surprised at the number of phone calls he receives from people who don't have thier modem plugged in, etc. Dear God, what a sucky job he has!
• technician tells me that he can't get a signal through to my modem. Wow... really??? I told him that when he picked up the call.
• the quickest he can get someone out is 8am Monday morning, which is unacceptable to me since I will have to go to the office today and tomorrow (Saturday and Sunday), in order to complete my work.
• not that he cares, but i tell technician of the sweet deal that at&t has offered me to switch to DSL. he swears that he DOES care and will do whatever it takes to keep me a broadband customer.
• however, he considers "whatever it takes" to mean sending someone out Monday morning. And no matter how long I hold out and threaten, the earliest someone can come out is 8am Monday morning.
• well, I resign myself, since that's quicker than I can get AT&T to install DSL, so I finally agree to 8 am Monday morning.
• then suddenly I realize that I have promised a client that I will do a walk-through on his jobsite on Monday morning, so I have to reschedule for Monday afternoon, 2-5pm.
• i remind the young man to credit my bill for 3 days of internet service, and while he's at it, credit me 2 days of cable tv, since I have to go to work (and won't be able to enjoy my cable tv).
• he says he'll credit me one week of my total bill, and I protest and remind him that that doesn't mean that they can take a week to solve the problem. he assures me that they won't.
• in closing, the uber polite young man asks if there is anything else he can do to assist me. BIG MISTAKE.
• I tell him to send a message to the advertising department: (1) I don't appreciate the astronaut popping off to the cop, (2) the astronaut's yoga moves are disturbing and irrelevant to what they're trying to promote, and (3) to infer that because a group of men are huddled around the remote control during a bbq party... that "their women" would set the backyard on fire is demeaning.
• the young man said that he appreciated my comments and would pass them along. he said that he understood, as men had long been portrayed as incompetent fathers...
• and I said, "if the shoe fits".
• ok, please understand that I was angry... but I was wrong for saying that. my father was the best parent in the world, and equal to my mother in every way.

All that said... seriously, with all I said, I may never get my internet fixed.

My Birthday Celebration was... cool!

My oldest and dearest friend... and by oldest I refer not to her age, as she is considerably younger than me... but, instead, to the longevity of our friendship, as it has surpassed the quarter century mark (we met in nursery school... wink wink)... treated me to the best and happiest and funnest birthday celebration, that I could ever imagine.

We met for lunch a couple of Saturdays ago, at our favorite place to meet... an upscale Chinese restaurant called PF Chang’s. Should you ever find yourself in H-Town, you simply MUST drop in! Plan to get there early to get a good table, and enjoy the lettuce wraps, spicy chicken and mango iced tea! But I digress...

My friend lives much further away, but in her usual style (and mine...), she was waiting for me in our favorite booth, gift tucked discreetly to the side (as she is sensitive to the fact that I’m not comfortable with attention), and a cake from her local, specialty (and heavenly) bakery, in a plain white box on the table. I saw the label right away and almost suggested that we skip lunch... however, the restaurant food is a real treat, and our booth, quite in demand any day, let alone a Saturday lunch! So, we ordered!

As we were waiting on our food, my friend began to give me instructions (as she often does... a trait that I find lovable and very endearing) on how to preserve the cake so that I might enjoy the last bite as much as the first. It HAS to be refrigerated, she said... it can’t be allowed to get hot (in the car, or otherwise), or the icing will melt and slide off the cake.

Hmmmm... I’m thinking, as I know we have plans to go “messing around” (read shopping) immediately after our meal. I’m deep into my consideration of the various options... (1) run the cake to my house, about 8 miles away, or (2) deposit it in the frige at my office, about ½ mile away... along with a note that reads something similar to... “Eat this and die!”... when suddenly I realize that she’s chuckling, and quite ahead of me in solving the dilemma.

And she begins to tell me the story of the cake.

First, however, I must say that we talked on the phone on the evening of my actual birthday (a few days prior) and she mentioned that she had gone by this bakery to get cookies for a young man who lives in her neighborhood and who helps her husband, in his business and her, around their house. He had his wisdom teeth out that day, and she knew, even if he wasn’t well enough to eat... he would enjoy letting those cookies melt in his mouth (and they would... I’ve had them!). In turn, I began to tell her a story of another friend of mine that lives in that area, who had been fretting over where to get a cake for her anniversary party. Every time she brought it up, I, quietly to subliminally, spoke the name of the bakery. This friend, ultimately, received the message, checked the website, fell in love and ordered a cake.

I, on the other hand, became increasingly plagued with concern, as I remembered the sage advice (or rather, rules to live by) delivered somewhat sternly and quite resolutely, by my (late) Mother: “Never recommend a doctor or a hairstylist.”, meaning to infer that you would, surely, lose a friend either way... through death or bad hair. And I began to convince myself that Mom, most certainly, meant to infer other services, including bakeries, into that list... as Mama was a wise woman of few words, who counted on the intuitive senses of others to understand exactly what she meant and why.

In spite of my deviation from the rule... the cake turned out wonderfully and on time, for my friend’s anniversary party. There was not a happier soul in attendance, than was I, when I first laid eyes on the cake... finely decorated and even more beautiful than the photograph implied. Better than the Tiffany box design, was the taste, texture and freshness of the cake... heavenly, and without so much as a crumb.

It seems that I digress... again. Irregardless, I relate the story and think nothing more of it... And that’s the way my (oldest and dearest) friend is. She reminds me of my (late) grandmothers in that way. You mention something once, in passing, and she files it away and surprises you later. I am TRULY blessed to have such a friend, yea sister.

So... she’s chuckling. And she tells me the story of the cake.

It seems that, after our conversation, she decides she’s going to go by and pick up a birthday cake for me. And, on Friday afternoon, after work, she stops in the bakery and, blowing past the Cinderella, Snow White and pink rose cakes, and breifly considering the ‘dump truck’ cake, she selects a festively decorated (yet fashionably understated) cake.
As they are preparing the package, she asks about the “travelability” of the cake, and the cake lady informs her of the details that she just relayed to me.

So, she leaves the bakery, cake carefully packaged and securely in hand... thinking, I’ll put ice in a cooler and place a barrier between the ice and the box... and all will be good.

Until she gets home and finds that the box won’t fit in any of the coolers that she owns... with the exception of the “fishing” cooler that her husband owns, which fits perfectly in the bed of a Chevy truck and the backseat of a Hummer, but would have to be strapped (not a chance in hell!) to the top of her sporty Cadillac!

In talking to a neighbor (and in actuality, to the mother of the young man sans wisdom teeth), she mentions that she is about to go out and buy a cooler, into which she can fit the cake box. The neighbor insists that she comes by, on her way out, to check to see if any of her coolers will accommodate the cake. My friend does, and finds a perfect fit.

While there, she relates the cake lady’s instructions, and states her plan for the cooler. Her neighbor disagrees, and directs, emphatically, “what you need to do is to buy some dry ice”... no moisture problem, no barrier, it will last much longer, and you can purchase it at the local grocery store. Excellent idea, my friend agrees... and she goes home, because she knows that her husband is anxiously awaiting her return so that they can go out for dinner.

After dinner, she instructs her (sweetheart... and I mean that!) husband to run by the grocery store and let her run in to get some dry ice. They, neither, have any previous experience with dry ice.

At this point in the story, I become almost incapacitated with laughter... as I am recalling my own first experience with the mysterious substance.

It was the occasion of an annual Halloween day’s preparation for the party that another friend and I always throw... for the children of our friends... yeah, that’s right... that’s the ticket... for the children of our friends, not for ourselves, oh no... the party is for the children (wink wink). We had worked for days... yea weeks, as at that time, we lived in (shared wall) townhouses. And we were in the final crunch, as it was about 3pm on the “day of”... And I said, “OK, Dude, what can I do, and how can we best utilize our time?”

As we had already “blown” the outdoor speakers... in the process of entertaining ourselves while working... Dude had bought new speakers, but she wanted to replace the speaker wires with something more effective and “suitable”. So, she proposed... we need two things: (1) “Monster” cable and (2) dry ice for our cauldrons. No problem, I said... rather anxious to retreat from the heat and humidity of hanging lights and stringing cobwebs (as I had already modeled, twisted and reclining, for the chalk outline)... and off I went to retrieve the final touches.

First, I went to the Audio/Visual/Home Theatre store a few blocks away... to purchase the “Monster”. Immediately upon entering, I was asked how I might be helped. I stated my purpose and with efficiency, I was delivered a spool and escorted to “checkout”. It was a small spool, but ample to deliver sound from the source to two speakers. And I was pleased with how easy this task had been to accomplish.

I must admit, at this point, I have never been interested in speakers and wattage and wiring and all of that stuff. I figure... my ears are only so good, beyond everyday sound, I’m not sure how much more I can hear. And while I am, in most instances, a rule follower and instruction reader, I absolutely despise the directions to my home theatre system and other digital components. For me, it is a deterrent to even considering moving... when I think of trying to figure that out again.

Digression acknowledged, once again... the salesman scans the spool of cable, and announces... it’s on sale, that will be $45. And I am like... “WHAT??????!” I know I must have heard him wrong. But, as luck would have it, my generic every day ordinary oratory senses heard correctly... $45. I might balk, but I’m so tired that I think... if this is what we need, then sobeit. On to the grocery store for dry ice.

Locating the chest “freezer” at the grocery store, I grab three “chunks” of dry ice and make my way to the checkout line. I note that the packages are quite heavy, but I have no particular concerns, as regular ice is quite heavy, too. That is... no concerns until the packages are scanned... and the total is announced... (member price)... $27! Ohmygosh... who, possibly, would have thought... but we need them for the cauldrons, so I pay and leave, very tentively, carefully guarding my valuable purchase. I’m starting to figure out why Dude was willing to stay behind in the heat...

In spite of continual digressions, I return to the birthday story...

My friend asks politely where the dry ice is located and the clerk points. She scurries over and is about to pick up a package barehanded when a checker shreaks and stops her in her tracks. She instructs him that she would like a certain three packages and he carefully bundles them for her. At checkout, she finds out that the first two packages scan at over $16! And she makes a quick decision that, certainly, two will keep the cake cool for a few hours!

Returning to the truck, her husband is convinced that she has lost her mind for paying that kind of money for ice of ANY kind! They’ve been married for 21 years, though, and I’m relatively certain that he knows better than to argue with her. :-)

By the time they get home, the packages have formed a heavy frost, and as they are ready to go to bed, my friend decides to deposit the ice in the freezer. Oops, only room for one package in the freezer, the other will have to go in the refrigerator. (At this point, I am, literally, snorting).

My friend awakes early the next morning to prepare and make her trip to meet me. She retrieved the first package from the freezer and notices that it is quite a bit smaller than it was the night before, but the frost no longer conceals its wrapper. In large print, she reads, “DO NOT PLACE IN REFRIGERATED CONTAINER”. Oh, she thinks, the refrigeration must make the package shrink, but still... it seems to be cold enough to keep the cake cool.

Then, she opens the (monster Sub-Zero) refrigerator... to find a THICK layer of frost over everything inside! She almost calls her husband to tell him that there’s something wrong with the frige, until she remembers... “DO NOT PLACE IN REFRIGERATED CONTAINER”. Instead, she quickly loads the cooler, grabs the birthday package and runs out the door.

I’m happy to report that the cake was in fine condition and extraordinarily yummy. We each ate a small slice after our tasty meal. Then, we were off to re-load the cooler and set our for an afternoon’s adventure. She insisted, too, that as the birthday girl, I take the leftovers from our lunch. I had reservations, as I was afraid the food would ruin before I made it home, but I didn’t want to argue. After carefully replacing the cake box in the cooler, she began to close the trunk, when I suddenly thought... hey! Will the cartons of Chinese food fit in that cooler??? (Sometimes, I am just TOO smart!).

We spent a wonderful afternoon (and I do mean an entire afternoon) in Cost Plus World Market. She was a CPWM virgin, until that afternoon, and we had a blast, as she carefully studied each and every item... and I tried on Halloween masks and tiaras. We reaped a lot of bounty that afternoon, and if exchanging Andrew Jacksons is a means of measure... let’s just say that she was three times more successful than I was. (And that’s all I can say, in the event her husband is reading!).

The cake made it perfectly through the heat of the afternoon, and when we returned to her car, I took the box and the food cartons. We hesitated, as we always do, when we must part. I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like... as she lives on one end of the universe, and I on the other. We hugged and I thanked her, from the bottom of my heart, for making my day so special. And we were off...

I made it only a few blocks from the parking lot when my cell phone rang. I recognized the number, as well as the chuckling on the other end of the line. It seems that she was calling to share more sage wisdom about dry ice.

If you leave a bottle of water in the cooler with dry ice, it will form a solid that rather explodes upon opening.

It was a fun day. I can’t wait to do it again.

Doorbells and Dangers

Ok... so, on Sunday, it had been a hectic weekend so far... broken water pipe, unplanned meeting with a client, errands (complicated by an unforseen shortage in hardwood floor wax) behind me... and I settle in to work on a 'moonlight' project that I had committed for completion by Tuesday morning.

And about 10:00pm, the door bell rings. The dog runs, barking ferociously, to the front door. I can't follow her, because (1) who in the right and honorable world would ring my door that late without calling first, (2) the lights are on and the dog will separate the blinds and "expose" me, and (3) I watch entirely too much crime tv.

Once the "ringer" has left, and the dog is quieted, I manage to peer out of the shutters to see my "directly across the street neighbor and nicest guy in the world"... standing at the end of his driveway.

Relieved, for the briefest of moments, I head out the front door... realizing he's in need, and hoping I can help HIM (for once). He looks a little lost, and tells me that he was down the street at a birthday party with his girlfriend, and... with both his porch and house lights on, his truck was stolen.

Did I hear anything? Yes, I did... less than thirty minutes earlier. But, I thought it was either him leaving, or someone from the party (going on) a few doors down.

Bless his heart. He's such a hard worker, all-around good guy and neighbor. He's young, owns his own business, and is always eager and available to help me and anyone else who's in need. Who would have thought that this could happen with all of the lights on???

I'm sad to say that there's an immediate supsect... a local (good gone bad) kid who's been caught demaging, destroying and stealing property over the course of the last year. The police have, twice, been at his house this week.

I'm both thankful that I pull my car into the garage at night, and fearful that burglars might think I"m not at home. I have a security system, a big dog, and a loaded gun... but it might be time for an upgrade...

When I asked for a break...

I should've been more specific!

If I had to estimate, I'd say that I've worked approximately 6 months (regular hours) over the course of this (three month) summer.

Having missed many social events, including Wednesday night's comets game, because I had to work... I came home Friday at 1:30pm (after therapy... ha), bound and determined to nap, rise from the dead, and make the 7:30pm game.

Upon arriving at home, I let the dog out into the backyard, and she immediately flushed three squirrels: two straight up a tree, and a third from behind a large philodendron, across the yard and through the fence. Once the lightning bolts came to a rest, I thought I heard a noise, but readily dismissed it... as it must be a neighbor's sprinkler, or a hot tub pump.

I coaxed the dog inside, and settled in for a much-needed summer's nap. I got up around 4:30pm to make a telephone call to a client... who umch to my chagrin, insisted that I prepare and fax a proposal to him the following morning. Prior to making that call, though, I let the dog out into the backyard again, as her territory was contested, once again, by the gosh-darn squirrels.

The call ended, and I stepped out on the back porch... greeted first, by the noise; second, by a wet and filthy dog; and third by a flooded back yard. I waded through the yard to discover a broken hose bibb... the kind, not attached to the exterior wall of the house, but rising from a pipe in the ground, a few feet from the house. And, coincidentally, behind the large philodendron and directly in the path of the dog, as she chased the squirrel hours earlier.

I ran quickly to the front yard and opened the meter box... no shut-off valve... and next to the concrete cylinder in the side yard, where I clawed mud and muck from the top of the valve. [Note to all who are going through a divorce or separation: just because you're hell bent on purging, don't necessarily rid yourself of "rarely used unless it's an emergency"... tools, like a water meter key]. I tried a wrench, adjusted tightly over the key, with a pair of channel locks to turn... not enough leverage.

Meanwhile, the water is still GUSHING.

Next, with the help of a neighbor, I tried a piece of tube steel which fit over the key (and got stuck), but still... not enough leverage.

Luckily, and embarassingly, the neighbor asked what the red handle on the pipe near the sprinkler system controls did... "I'm not sure", I said. He turned it and oila... the sound (and gush) gradually faded to still.

Now... I'm wet and sweaty, my feet are muddy to above the ankles, my hands and fingernails are caked with much, there's no running water in the house, it's Friday night (not to mention a holiday weekend), and the game starts in an hour and a half.

I'm upset, knowing that there's no way I can make the game, but there's no need for panic or tears... I can call my "trusty" 24-hour service home warranty company... and in usual pattern, I am told that the plan does not cover the ailment from which my home suffers.

Why am I surprised??? (And as an aside, for those of you who think I'm not an optimist, just because I tend to display a realist perspective, preferring to be pleasantly surprised, rather than bitterly disappointed...) I don't know, but I, truly with all my heart, believed that it would be covered.

The bad news is that I missed the Comets game and spending an evening in the company of good friends and spent 202 unplanned dollars; the good news is that I wrote the proposal and prepared the timeline for my client, while waiting on my "after-hours-plus-holiday" plumber, in time to both fax it and pick up a signed copy, along with the retainer fee, the next morning.

(And no... I didn't increase the fee by $202, a question I've already been asked by a friend... but unthinkable to an honest, hard-working Virgo).

Willing to pay for break...

since working for one has yielded no (and quite the opposite) results.

I've come to accept that I'll never be given one; they, apparently, can't be earned; and demands fall quietly behind an instinctive nature to please.

I'm talking a universal break here... professional, financial and romantic. I am, however, quite willing to entertain separate offers.

Got one to spare? Give me first option! (And, of course, that would be my FIRST break!).