Author: Average Jane

Happy Thursday to you, my loyal blog readers. I only have a few minutes before I go to face a deluge of deadlines, so I figured I’d wrap up a few of the threads I’ve left hanging from earlier this week.

The cat – Because she’s very old, my husband and I had already discussed whether we might need to have her euthanized. However, her problem turned out to be potentially solveable with a change in food and some supplemental Metamucil. She spent last night at the vet, and we should have a clearer picture of her care needs today. Even in obvious discomfort she’s been alert and mobile, so we take that as a good sign. She reeks, though, and I’m not looking forward to trying to give her a bath.

The cars – I’m still not going to have my car back in time for the rally I wanted to do in mid-May. However, my rally partner wasn’t about to give up that easily – she’s offered her car instead. It’s a lot newer and nicer than mine, so that should be fun!

The emergency backup car turned out to only need a new battery, so it’s up and running again. However, that leads to another little story.

Yesterday morning I was headed out the door in plenty of time to run an errand on my way to work. My husband had been driving the car, so it had fast food trash on the floor. I put the key in the ignition and set my purse on the passenger seat, grabbed the trash, got out and put it in the barrel next to the garage. When I returned to get in the car and leave, it had locked itself completely.

You can imagine how I felt. My every interaction with cars of late has resulted in money being vacuumed from my wallet, and this would be no exception. I called a locksmith and made it to work 30 minutes late and $40 poorer.

I’m staying optimistic though, ’cause what else is there to do? I’ve long since passed my “weeping and gnashing of teeth” phase as a response to daily stresses. It takes too much energy and just makes me feel bad.

Yesterday I got to thinking about the milestones that made me realize I was an adult. I don’t mean birthdays or graduations – these are more subtle symbols of adulthood. Here are a few of them in chronological order:

• Buying your own plane ticket – Can you think of a more potent symbol of adult freedom? I remember thinking, even at the time, “Wow, I’m really grown up now!”
• Purchasing a piece of new furniture – After years of making do with other people’s castoff furnishings, it’s a big deal to buy something new for yourself.
• Replacing a piece of furniture you originally bought new – This is when you really start to realize you’ve grown up. For me, buying a new clothes hamper to replace my original one had special resonance.
• Buying a house – I know, “Duh.” But it marks the transition between, “Hey, man, it’s a free country – I can walk across your property if I want to!” and “Hey you kids – get off of my lawn!”
• Putting away the tchotchkes of youth – Huh? Let me illustrate: Last night my husband bought some wonderful incense and we wanted to burn a stick of it. I knew it meant we’d finally left behind our “just out of the dorm” lifestyle when it took me twenty minutes to round up an incense burner.

So that’s my not-particularly-profound collection of thoughts for today. Enjoy your Wednesday!

I don’t have much time this morning, so I’ll just do a few updates:

• My car is becoming a yawning cash-flow vortex. While dismantling the motor, our mechanic discovered something else wrong with it that’s unrelated to last week’s incident. The “new” problem adds more than 25% to a repair bill that already made me feel queasy.
• I forgot to mention that my emergency backup vehicle is also having problems – either the battery or the alternator, we’re not sure. It’s lucky I have an emergency backup vehicle at all, I know, but it’s becoming a little difficult to get to and fro.
• One of our cats is ill, so my husband is taking her to the vet sometime today between job hunting, trying to get me a car that runs, and his many other errands. Now I feel a little bad about yesterday’s anti-cat rant, although it’s all still true. The sick cat is the one we took in when my husband’s mother died. The cat is coming up on age 20, so I fear there’s not a lot the vet can do for her.
• Today at work: deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. I’ve worked this way my entire life, but that doesn’t make it any less stressful when I find myself needing to write eight articles in one day. That’s exactly what I’ll be doing in about two hours. Wish me luck!

Yesterday I spent the early part of my workday filing away the masses of papers that had covered my entire desk. I followed up with a thorough cleaning of all desk surfaces – and, boy, were they dirty! The only remaining mess source is the rapidly-expiring bouquet of lilacs I brought in on Monday. I may have to cut some more flowers to replace them – it was nice having fresh blossoms in the office.

Tomorrow we’re all keeping our fingers crossed that it doesn’t rain during my niece’s birthday party. There’s an inflatable bouncy castle on order, so it would be a shame if it couldn’t be used. I, personally, am very much looking forward to leaping around in the bouncy castle once all the kids leave!

I’m heading over early to help with the party prep and make punch. I’ve hosted or co-hosted a LOT of baby showers recently, so I’ve developed some standards for party punch that the uninitiated might not consider. For example, one should always take into account the color of the finished product. At one shower, the punch tasted delicious but the color…well, to use an out-of-context quote from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” it could be described as “obscenely biological.” I’ve found a recipe that uses frozen condensed orange juice and lemonade, club soda, ginger ale, and a scoop of powdered punch mix. Basically it ends up being sparkling Kool-aid with visible pulp, which is fine. The important thing is that all the artificial dyes in the punch mix make the concoction a pleasing shade of pink.

I have an enormous collection of faux copper Jell-o molds, so I tried to make an attractive ice ring for the punch the last time around. Unfortunately, I dropped it in the sink as I was unmolding it, so it ended up floating in the punchbowl as a group of oddly-curved icebergs. I’m going to let my sister be in charge of the punch accoutrements this time. Some strawberry sherbet would be a nice accent, I think.

It promises to be a fairly relaxed weekend after that. My husband has a gig on Saturday night (he’s a drummer), so I suppose I’ll have to seek out some entertainment plans, lest I spend the evening vegging in front of the TV (again). On Sunday, maybe I can finally get around to some yard work. All of you – have a lovely weekend yourselves!

I swung by my hairdresser’s shop at lunchtime yesterday to buy some shampoo and conditioner. My last bottle of shampoo had run out a couple of weeks earlier and I’d been using a shampoo of my husband’s that leaves my hair dry and horrid-looking. For some reason, my supply of conditioner lasted a bit longer, but by yesterday’s shower I had scraped the last milliliter of funky, leftover conditioner out of the last sample bottle. It was definitely time to start over.

The last time I had my hair cut, I’d gotten some samples of shampoo and conditioner, so I figured I’d buy those. She was out of the conditioner, but gave me a big glob in a paper cup from her own bottle. I bought a bottle of shampoo that I thought was what I’d had in the sample packet.

This morning I hopped into the shower and poured some of the shampoo into my hand. It was NOT what I was expecting! It was a deep, dark purple that reminded me of a cloud of squid’s ink. Turns out, it’s designed to counter the brassy golds and yellows in blonde hair. I immediately got a mental picture of an elderly lady I’d seen at a restaurant not long ago, her hair a soft pouf of lavender cotton-candy.

As it turns out, the shampoo did quite a nice job on my hair in color and texture both. Even though I’d missed the “rinse immediately” instruction on the bottle the first time around, I didn’t end up with violet hair. Whew!

* * * * * * * * *

I completed the sale of my car last night and the buyer is overjoyed with it. He’s much more willing to dig in and make all the necessary repairs than I was, so I’m glad he’s so happy. I’ll still see it since we belong to two of the same car clubs.

My car that’s in the shop will be ready in about three weeks. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll be able to drive it in a weekend event on May 15-16 that includes a rally and an autocross.

* * * * * * * * *

My biggest minor triumph of the morning was in beginning to address the avalanche of laundry that had been forming around each clothes hamper. I realized that today’s pair of undies was the last from the “acceptable” stratum of the drawer. After that, I’d be faced with the “why haven’t I thrown these away?” layer. The “relatively new pairs that actually fit” selection was exhausted more than a week ago.

* * * * * * * * *

That’s all I’ve got for now. Time to head to work for a lovely morning of filing!

Yesterday morning I had lots of things to accomplish, but everything I tried to do went horribly, horribly wrong. Here’s a little timeline:

8:15 a.m. – I leave home and head to the post office to drop off 400-odd newsletters. It turns out the Bulk Mail office doesn’t open until 9:00 a.m. Grrr. Luckily it stays open until 8:00 p.m., so at least I can deal with it in the evening.

8:25 a.m. – Since I can’t do the newsletter mailing, I have time to drop off a pan of baked ziti to a friend who is recently home with a new baby. I head in that direction.

8:35 a.m. – I’m almost to my destination when the car completely stalls. The “Achtung” light goes on and I have all battery power, but it can’t turn over. Luckily, I’m in the right-hand lane, so I put on my hazard lights and count on the fact that the car is bright yellow to save me from being hit by other drivers. Did I mention it’s raining? I immediately call my husband, who is still asleep. After I repeat, “This is an emergency! Answer the phone!” about ten times into the answering machine, he manages to scramble to the phone. We briefly discuss what’s going on and he gets off the line to call a tow truck and our mechanic.

8:45 a.m. – I call work to let them know that I’m stranded for an indefinite period of time. I don’t have any meetings, so I figure nobody will really notice anyway, but they are very sympathetic.

9:00 a.m. – An Audi sedan stops and the driver asks me if I need help. The driver has kind of a good ol’ boy vibe, which is a bit incongruous. I tell him, “Thanks, but I have a tow truck on the way.” I appreciate the thought, though.

9:15 a.m. – Most drivers are doing a good job of noticing my flashers and stalled position 1/2 a block from the intersection. Others are frighteningly inattentive. About once every five or ten minutes, a car will race up on me at full speed and brake inches from my bumper, then sit there for a long pause before taking in my “disabled car” status. Many of these drivers are so close to me at this point that they must actually back up to get around me.

9:30 a.m. – I had meant to grab some breakfast after dropping off the ziti, so I’m getting extremely hungry. I call my husband to make sure he’s on his way and, when I discover he has plans to stop by McDonald’s, request the only McDonald’s breakfast food I can stomach: a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. While I’m on the phone, another good Samaritan slows to ask if I need a ride or any help. It’s a woman in a van. I thank her and tell her there’s a tow truck on the way, even though I’m starting to have doubts about it myself.

9:45 a.m. – Traffic has actually picked up, which means more people bearing down on me while distracted by their cell phones, breakfasts or general mental fuzziness. One person has the gall to honk at me. By then my blood sugar is low enough that I don’t care about anything except when my breakfast biscuit is going to arrive. I do start to wonder if my flashers are actually on. Surely people can’t be paying that little attention to their driving? Oh, but they can.

9:48 a.m. – My husband shows up with my breakfast biscuit and – oh joy! – an apple pie. I snarf down all the food and we discuss the car’s problem. He thinks it might be the starter and I agree because it’s been taking a while to turn over lately. We both hope it isn’t the timing belt because we know it’s time to replace the belts on the car and, in fact, have an appointment with our mechanic on Thursday to do just that.

10:05 a.m. – Finally the tow truck arrives. The driver doesn’t know where our mechanic’s shop is, so my husband decides to ride with him and I decide to take the other vehicle and drop off the ziti. I drive the few remaining blocks to my friend’s house. Nobody is there. Sigh.

10:20 a.m. – I return to the scene of the breakdown and the car is on the tow truck’s flatbed. I head to the mechanic’s shop so I can meet them when they arrive.

I’ll drop the timeline, except to point out that I didn’t make it into the office until about 11:30 a.m. Our mechanic’s shop was jammed with cars when we arrived, so we didn’t hear the verdict until about 2:30 p.m. I must have looked like a thundercloud while I was there, because the mechanic called my husband to tell him the news: it was the timing belt. Because of the way my car’s engine is configured, that means that all sixteen valves are bent and the whole engine will need to be rebuilt. At great expense, of course.

The only bright spot is that the person who bought my previous car is picking it up today, so at least we’ll have the money to pay for the repairs. I was feeling morose and broody all afternoon, but after I forced myself to do a mental “count your blessings” list, and then had a chance to visit my friends and hold their adorable new baby, I cheered up and put everything in its proper perspective. My life really is wonderful – sometimes I just get mired in the minor setbacks. Fresh start today, though!

Yesterday started out pretty busy: breakfast, church and an appointment for work. After that my plan was to to go home, eat lunch, do some basement cleaning and run a bunch of laundry loads. Instead, I ate half a sleeve of saltines with fresh peanut butter on them, watched hours of 100 Greatest Standups of All Time on Comedy Central, and dozed off periodically throughout the afternoon. It was great!

By the time my husband finally materialized in the early evening, I had moved my lazy bulk in front of our bedroom TV, the better to nap comfortably when it seemed appropriate. I was surrounded by cats, most of whom were on board with my plan to move as little as possible. Only hunger and a stiff neck could finally compel me to arise and seek a late dinner.

Since it’s nearly impossible to find a real restaurant open after 9 p.m. on Sunday, my husband and I returned home with food from Wendy’s. By the time Deadwood was over, I had already sought out a jar of Maalox tablets and taken four of them to counteract the meal. I knew there was a reason I’d stopped eating fast food.

Since we had our power restored on Friday, I was able to grab the downstairs laptop and look up some information about the historical Calamity Jane and her role in the smallpox epidemic that is clearly about to hit the town in the series. That’s one of the things that makes Deadwood so interesting – a blend of fiction and researchable history (albeit a history that is embellished with many tall tales and thus open to debate).

Today it’s back to work as usual. I have to transcribe three interviews and write a total of five profiles of interviewees from the past couple of weeks. I’ve sold my car, so tonight I need to clean it out and get it ready for the new owner. That laundry I meant to wash yesterday still awaits – and my reputation precedes me on that subject. Enough talk, then. To action!

I left work early yesterday because I have two work assignments to handle over the weekend. After I’d run several errands, I returned home to discover that our electrical problems persisted and that it was apparently up to me to take care of them.

My husband’s electrician friend came by and determined that neither the fuse box nor the breaker box was responsible for the power outage. The problem began outside somewhere. I called the electric company and waded through their voicemail system. Apparently it’s not unusual for someone to lose partial power, because that was one of the options on the automated questionnaire.

The man from the electric company arrived within an hour and quickly discovered that one of the live sections of our aged overhead power line had burned itself in half at both ends. This meant we got a new cable from the utility pole to the house: two black live wires and a shiny silver ground wire. It was an interesting process to watch, especially since the man ended up doing the whole job by himself.

It was dark before he finished, so my husband and I sat on our front porch watching the work. I tried to light some candles to illuminate the porch, but it was too windy. Fortunately I have a battery-powered faux candle, so I brought it out and turned it on until the lights came back.

The man from the utility company told us that the bad wire had probably been causing us problems for some time. It would certainly explain why all our basement lights burned out last week. If we’re lucky, we should have a lot more stable power supply from now on, although we still need to upgrade our breaker box.

So now I’m back online. Hooray! I had some ugly spyware causing problems when I tried to download my e-mail, but I took care of that this morning. The only lingering problem from the whole episode is that one of the cats sneaked out for a while last night, and now she’s darting for the door every time someone tries to leave. Time to get a new squirt gun, I guess.