Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?

The best thing about moving (other than the slow tedious process that is unpacking), is getting to know your new neighborhood. Living five miles from town, we have fewer neighbors than we did before, but we do live in a cluster of four or five houses along the state highway between two towns and what we lack in quantity we seem to be making up for in entertainment value.

The first night in our new house, I was sitting in the living room in front of the yet-to-be curtained picture window when I noticed a flashing light coming from across the road. It seemed to be coming from very near but not actually from inside the neighbor's house--it was like a camera flash but it came every second or so. I looked at Hubby and said, "Do you think our new neighbor is communicating with aliens?"

The next morning, all was explained when I noticed a wooden lighthouse sitting in a flower bed next to the house. But as soon as one question was answered, more arose.

The man has ponies--lots of them. Sometimes there are as many as ten or fifteen in the pasture beside his house and sometimes there are only a few and some days there aren't any to be seen. There is a tiny shedlike structure at the top of the hill and a made-from-a-kit round steel building that looks like a giant metal meatloaf, so I assume that's where the "missing" ponies are, but the weirder thing about the ponies is that even though there are so many of them there are only two color patterns--one is a rich brown with a blondish mane and tail and the other is white with chocolate brown spots.

I'm pretty sure my neighbor is cloning ponies in that shed up on the hill.

In fact, I'm so positive that this is what's going on that I no longer even call them ponies--they're clonies.

And that lighthouse? It's beaming the results of his latest cloning efforts to scientists on some other planet.

I'm pretty sure.

All The Ice Cream He Could Eat And Other Musical Commentary

We were playing cards Saturday night while listening to a mixed CD that included Nickelback's "Rock Star." Now one of my favorite lines in the song has always been "I wanna be great like Elvis without the tassels..."

I mean truly, it's one of the greatest lines in any song ever--clever and funny and what better rhyme for "assholes," which, in the uncensored version, appears in the next line? I thought there was no way the line could be improved upon, until I overheard Next-To-Youngest Niece singing it Saturday night:

"I wanna be great like Elvis without the tonsils..."

It doesn't rhyme quite as well, but you gotta give her points for creativity.

In other musical news, Daughter-Only and her friend R and I were in the car when an Angels and Airwaves song came on the radio. D-O says, "I love his voice, but it's really hard to like their music when the entire band is ugly."

I'm sure they've got a place for her on the Reviews page at Rolling Stone.

Oxymorons, Emphasis On Morons

So, I missed the last day of NaBloPoMo--didn't get out of work before the library closed. And the good news is my head didn't explode.

The bad news is that we still didn't have Internet when I got home that night. Because it turns out the phone company is a big, gigantic liar too (just like the cable company)--the DSL signal that I was assured would be coming to my house was not strong enough to reach our house from their local office. I understand, I guess, that they couldn't have known that instantly in the first phone call, but I'm a little baffled as to why no one could be bothered to let me know that I wouldn't be receiving the service they had promised. When I did finally call on Monday morning, they said, "oh, yes, we tried to send the signal to your house, but you're too far out to receive it" and I said, "And why wasn't I notified of that?" She said, and I quote, "sputter, sputter, spit and mutter..." Whatever. I can't get DSL. So she says, "We do offer dial-up, would you like to sign up for that now."

Uh, no. If I'm getting crappy dial-up service then you can bet your sweet, stupid butt I'm not getting it from your company who couldn't even be bothered to call me back to tell me that all you could offer me was crappy dial-up service.

So there it is.

And the oxymoron? We got dial-up--but we got the upgraded "hi-speed dial-up."

Hi-speed dial-up.

Yeah, but we got it for $12.95/month and it was turned on the exact moment the non-moronic customer service representatives told us it would be.

One More Lame Post From The Library...

...And then it's back to the lame posts from home--with any luck anyway. The Internet is supposed to be on at the house tomorrow, but I believe I've heard that story before.

Pushing The Limits Of The Definition Of The Word Post*

This is a post, right?

*Especially since the title is actually longer than the post itself and this is also being posted by proxy--I have dictated it to poor beleagured Son-One (more academia) over the phone since the library is closed on Wednesdays. I hope the gods of NaBloPoMo appreciate my dedication.

Proudly Prostate Free Since 1968

Son-One was home over Thanksgiving break and I was a little concerned about the trip back into Buffalo on Sunday to return him to the halls of academia*--between potential traffic and potential weather, I figured there was ample opportunity for disaster and the way things have been going lately when there's a chance for disaster, disaster it will be**.

The trip went smoothly though and as Son-Two, Daughter-Only and I were making our way back onto the highway after a stop at Wendy's Drive-Thru, I said, "The traffic is so light I can eat my Frosty with a spoon!"

And from the backseat Daughter-Only says, "Did you just say you had your prostate removed?!"

*From what I've been able to discern from visits to the dorm as well as Son-One's own admissions, activity in those halls seems to consist mainly of gossip, video games and occasional surreptitious imbibing of not-quite-legal beverages. In other words, and probably not surprisingly, very little of an academic nature is actually going on in the halls of academia.

**It occurred to me as I wrote that that, really, considering the fact that we were moving somewhat under duress and that we moved a household of six people and twenty years of accumulated stuff, things have gone remarkably smoothly and really the cable/Internet issue is the only major hurdle we've faced. So, I'm a whiner.

Liar, Liar Pants On Fire (Or, The Story Of How Masked Mom Was Flagged As A Lunatic By The Cable Company)

More tales of woe from the Internetless wonder. We still don't have cable or Internet at the new house and turns out we might be in a gap between two regional offices of Time Warner and unable to get service from EITHER of them. Why no one knew this until today is beyond me--and the only reason they even realized it today is because I called both offices repeatedly until I got some semblance of a straight answer and that answer wasn't even straight enough so I called everyone I know along that stretch of road that I now live on and found who has cable and where their cable is out of and now I'm waiting to hear back from one or both offices at which time I'm probably going to tell either or both of them to stuff it because I'm going to get the package through the phone company and to hell with them. Maybe.

At least I was smart enough to post from the toasty warm library instead of the soon-to-be completely abandoned old house...

Blind Ambition

Daughter-Only was thisclose to winning the middle school spelling bee last year--but a teacher mispronounced/misread a word (totem--she said "tofem" and Daughter-Only was robbed. A number of other teachers who witnessed the robbery informed Daughter-Only how unfair they thought it had been. Why they didn't inform the teachers and other organizing people of the unfairness is beyond me...).

This year, she's determined to snag the win. She's practicing maniacally. And she's extremely upset that I haven't been practicing with her. She has accused me of horrible parenting for not being more interested in practicing with her.

Let's consider the evidence and you can make your own conclusions. She has asked me exactly two times to practice with her. The first time, I was actually elbow-deep in the turkey on Thanksgiving Day and the second time, I was driving the car.

I am a horrible parent, huh?

Monday Is My New Favorite Day of the Week (I Hope)

What was originally scheduled for Wednesday the 21st by the cable company has now been moved to Monday the 26th. So we should have cable/Internet access in our warm, toasty new place then. In the meantime, the gas has been turned off at the old place (where I am now) just in time for the first cold snap of the season so I'm risking frostbite to post--but frostbite is better than head explosion, right?

Too Cold To NaBlo....

Temperature outside: 29F
Temperature inside: 29F
Posting just enough to count: Priceless.

My How Times Have Changed

Many years ago, when I still had time and energy for a book group, a friend gave me a recipe for an appetizer to take to the pot luck night my book group had every September. It was extremely simple and very tasty--Uncle Ben's rice, chopped spinach and shredded Swiss cheese in fillo dough cups (in the grocery store freezer already formed, thanks very much). I was mixing the filling in a big bowl and it was all brown and green and admittedly resembled dog vomit more than anything you'd want for food. Two of the boys (Son-Two and Son-Three, I think) went by and Son-Three peeked over the edge of the bowl and said, "That's not for us to eat is it?!"

When I told him I was taking it for the book group, he said, "You must not like them very much."

Fast forward to last night, Thanksgiving Eve. Son-Three says with evident anticipation, "You are going to make those little spinach cups, aren't you?"

(Happy Thanksgiving!)

Heading Exploding Heads Off At The Pass

Son-Three asked me tonight, "Are you coming into town tomorrow?" (The new house is five miles out of town, which is a huge change for kids used to living a few blocks from basically everything and everyone.)

I said, "Well, I have to at some point because I have to post for the NaBlo thingy."

"What happens if you don't post?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. Maybe my head will explode or something..."

Probably not, but I'm not taking any chances.

Seal of Approval

Youngest Niece, along with her sister, has been hanging out at my new house the past few nights. Last night, she came up to me and said, "I'm trying to think of how to say this to you. I'm not sure exactly how to ask this question but...will you invite me to live with you?"

Guess the new house passes the seven year old's inspection.

I'll Take That Bet

Bet you're all really tired of hearing about my misadventures in moving.

Bet you're not nearly as tired of hearing about it as I am of talking about it, not to mention actually doing it.

"Real"* posts soon.

*"Real" is a strictly subjective and immeasurable, intangible quality. "Real" as it's used here is intended to signify that I will return to my usual, not necessarily "real," posts soon.

Straddling The Here And The There

Still here. Well, still between here and there, but anyway, still kicking.

We got the majority of our really big stuff out today with some odds-and-ends left for the next couple of days. We'll be sleeping there tonight, but some of our stuff--including the computers with the Internet access--will be here at least for a few more days.

In the name of my NaBloPoMo promise, I will be posting from an empty, echoey* house until the Internet/cable is switched to the new place. Now that's dedication.

*Is too a word.

Ten-Toed Sloth

I'm not known by those closest to me as a particularly energetic person largely because I'm not a particularly energetic person. I've never met a chore I couldn't delegate and, in moments of extreme laziness, I've been known to call someone in from another room to ask them to turn off the light. I've tried fighting my, um, laziness over the years but at some point I just kind of accepted it.

I hadn't realized how much everyone around me has had to accept it as well.

The other night, on the second trip to the new house, when I got out of the car and started carrying in boxes, Hubby said in a completely sweet and sincere tone, "Baby, I didn't know you were gonna help."

He was so appreciative--and surprised--and it made me realize what a true bum I actually am most of the time. I don't know if I'll have the energy to do anything about it, but awareness is the first step, right?

With Apologies To The Memory of Shari Lewis

This is the move that never ends,

It goes on and on my friends,

Some people started moving things,

Not knowin' what it was,

And they'll continue movin' 'em forever

Just because...

This is the move that never ends,

It goes on and on my friends,

Some people started moving things,

Not knowin' what it was,

And they'll continue movin' 'em forever

Just because...

This is the move that never ends,

It goes on and on my friends,

Some people started moving things,

Not knowin' what it was,

And they'll continue movin' 'em forever

Just because...

This is the move that never ends,

It goes on and on my friends,

Some people started moving things,

Not knowin' what it was,

And they'll continue movin' 'em forever

Just because...

It's All About Priorities

My mind keeps running over the "moving list"--you know all those things you have to do when you move--gas, electric, cable/Internet, post office, blah, blah, blah. Somehow in the middle of all that I remembered that I needed to be sure to change my address at the library.

I thought of the library several hours before I remembered the DMV.

I'm such a sad, little book geek and I was thisclose to being a sad, little book geek with a current library card and an unupdated driver's license.

The Best Defense

One of the things I really hate is going into stores that are traditionally considered part of the male domain--hardware stores, automotive parts stores. I'm not anyone's idea of a girly girl and still time after time I've been instantly treated as though I were some fainthearted, feeble-minded twit just by virtue of the fact that I'm lacking a particular appendage.

Anyway. Tonight, I had to buy a headlight bulb and I went into the store where I'd bought my last headlight bulb, right to the rack where I found it last time I was there, flipped through the make/model/year guide just to be sure I remembered the right number and just as I reached for it, the twenty-something (male) clerk yelled from the desk across the store, "Anything I can help you with?"

And I said, "No, I'm all set." in a borderline rude voice, so ready was I to be offended by his patronizing tone (even though I'm nowhere near objective enough to determine whether his tone was actually patronizing or whether I was just expecting patronizing so much that I'd have heard it in any tone).

And he shrugged (was that a sarcastic look on his face?), "I could probably find it quicker for you on the computer..." (Not noticing that I have the bulb in my hand...)

And I held the bulb up and waved it in the air a little to make sure he really saw it then walked up to the desk.

I set it down and he said, "Now don't touch the bulb part at all when you're putting it in 'cuz it's a halogen bulb." (Um, it says that right on the package as well as in the instructions in my car's owner's manual, but thank you, you big strong (dorky) man, you.)

Then he says, "Would you like to donate a dollar to St. Jude's Children's Hospital?"

And (still with the bitter bordering on rude tone), I say, "Sure why not?"

Jeez, this punk has reduced me to being flip about St. Jude's. It's pretty bad when a smug little punk can bring out the worst in you in under a minute.

Who Lives In A Pineapple Under The Sea?...

Not me, but it was looking like the only option there for a while.

The source of much of my hinted-at stress for the last few months (all the way back to the Reeses Peanut Butter Cup incident and a little further) was a housing crisis. The house we've been renting for over nine years was put on the market and sold. Finding another place to live with a family as large as ours and an income as small as ours in a town as tiny as ours was not easy--and at times has seemed impossible. Things got increasingly nasty with our current landlord because we were unable to leave as quickly as she would've liked (but she was also incapable of or uneducated about doing the work of a proper eviction and relied instead on nasty phone calls and sporadic threats, which I guess I'm grateful for since it bought us some extra time).

Anyway, we're signing a lease tomorrow and will begin moving in immediately. At the moment, I'm equal parts relieved and terrified. In other words, I'm feeling pretty much normal for the first time in months.