Basta, Cielo!

Pamina: "I'm so tired, Tamino. Will these trials ever end?"
Tamino: "Sod it! I'll keep playing this damned flute until I turn blue!"


Okay, a day of R&R (sort of) and I'm back in the fight. Just try keeping me down, Life!








Characters and photo from Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) by W. A. Mozart.

Sixties Faces: Pattie Boyd

To wash the grime of the past few days' NAR off of both myself and my blog, I've decided to start a new feature I'll call "Sixties Faces". The feature, which I'll post whenever the spirit moves me, will contain photos of faces that held, and still hold a fascination for me. Some will be women and some will be men.

There's something about Pattie Boyd's face that made it really difficult to look away whenever I saw it in magazines when I was a teen. Having never given a tinker's damn about super models, I could never understand the fascination

Pattie Boyd was first introduced to Beatles fans when she appeared as a school girl in A Hard Day's Night in 1964. Later, she married George Harrison, and then left him for Eric Clapton. That marriage didn't last either, but she inspired two of rock's greatest love songs, "Something" by Harrison and "Layla" by Clapton. Here is the fabulous face of Pattie Boyd:

Still looking fab at 65!

The cover of "Layla"

Removing my F#%*ing NAR* from Your Presence

Over the past few days my ranty posts have been with made with a small amount of humor behind them. That part's over. The AC is barely working. It pushes out air, but very little -- when it comes on. Sometimes, it doesn't come on until I go downstairs, turn it off for a minute, then turn it back on. I've worn a permanent path in the carpet from our room, down the stairs, across the living room, and down the hall where the thermostat is. I'm at the point now that I'm on the verge of tears; no real relief from the triple-digit heat has given me a migraine. Added to this, the DSL keeps going out and I've also worn a another path between where I sit with my laptop to the desktop computer where the modem is located. On top of all this, I'm not getting the advance I was led to expect, money that we seriously needed for our move. Instead, I'm being sent only a fraction; barely enough to cover our utility bill, thanks to this f#%*ing AC unit! How do we buy paint? How do we buy food? How do we buy the cleansers we need to clean this f#%*ing house!? Where the hell am I going to get the energy to clean the garage and attic, Spackle this house and clean it (including steam cleaning 2800 square feet of carpeting), then move a 5-bedroom house into a 3-bedroom one? Good God! I'm pushing 60 here and am in lousy health. Nettl is taking the last week of the month off from work to help with all this, but she's no longer young either. How are we going to move the dresser, the sofa, the china hutch, and the sofa? Hell, how are we going to move the #%*ing piano!? We can't afford to pay someone, that's for sure. Hell, we can't even buy groceries for the week.

F#%*ing Bush and Cheney and their #$%^ing war.
F#%*ing Morgan Stanley.
F#%*ing Thyroidzilla.
F#%*ing post-menopausal aging issues.
F#%*ing f#%*!

I'm so tired of this "one step forward,three steps back" crap. Beyond tired. I'm terrifyingly close to my breaking point. Ten years is too long to live under constant white-knuckled fear.

I may take a few days away from blogging. You guys don't need this crapola.

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*NAR: Not All Right. Used as either a description, verb, or moun as in, "That's NAR", "Don't NAR me out", and "This is a buttload of NAR!"

Driving in the Dark

In about an hour I'll be leaving to take our friend, Dr. Allen Scott (professor of Music History at OSU) to the airport in Tulsa. He has to be there at 4:30 am. It's a little over an hour's drive each way, but I don't mind doing him the favor at all. The only part I remotely dread is the ride home alone. The Cimarron Turnpike is dark and eerie late at night because there's no one else on the road and there are no lights anywhere. Plus, you have to keep your eyes open for wild life. It's a taxing drive at night. The toll booth just this side of Tulsa is always a welcome sight because there are actual people to take your fare. Well, I'll keep my music on and I'll be fine. Just hope that I don't break down for some reason. I seriously sense Indian spirits out there whenever I drive it alone at night (I used to work in Tulsa and often didn't get home until well after dark).

See you when I get back!

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UPDATE: Micah's going with me! He's part Indian, so we'll be safe. ;)

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UPDATE #2: Got home safe and sound. It was fun! Oh, yeah, the AC is working. When I walked in the house it was like an ice box and I had to turn it down!

Chillin', but Just Barely

Do you remember this Twilight Zone episode? Yeah.

I finally had to move to the living room, downstairs, where it's a cool 79. Upstairs, it's 90. Still no AC guy, but they never show up until 5:30 anyway. Doesn't matter though because it was 103 at 10:00 last night.

Here's the view from where I am sitting on the sofa. You can't tell, but that mother is spinning at top speed. Much cooler, and I'm drinking an ice cold beer. Also, I'll be sure not to miss the AC guy -- the frickin' doorbell doesn't work either.

This morning, Joel's towel hooks came out of the wall. Do you think a house is like a lover, who knows when you're no longer in love, and starts to sabotage everything just to get even with you?

Reason #1 Redux

Okay, so here we are sweating our asses through the hottest week this area has known in a decade--under an extreme heat advisory--and our AC breaks down. Again. Yeah, I know you've heard a lot about this over the past five years, but now it's really serious. The unit is making all kinds of banging-clicking noises and it's standing in about an inch of water.

SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHY WE'VE BEEN PAYING SO MUCH G.D. RENT TO LIVE HERE, AND HOW THEY HAD THE NUTS TO RAISE THE RENT TO AN AMOUNT THAT CAUSED US TO HAVE TO MOVE!


Seriously, this is a nice house. In California, it would be a $500k-$800k home. It's big, stylish, modern -- the kind of house you see in gated communities. THINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK. I can't believe that the suckers people who are moving in after us are going to be paying $150 more a month than what we're paying. Good luck!

I called the maintenance guy yet again (we're on a first name basis now) and someone will be out to look at the problem LATER THIS AFTERNOON. Meanwhile, it's 93° and climbing, and this beast of an AC is raising our utility bill and giving us nothing in return.

I've had it.

Reason #1 Why I'm Glad We're Leaving This House

This crap can end any time now. 109° with a heat index of 115° is just unacceptable, and of course, it was this evening that our state-of-the-art geothermal AC decided to stop blowing air. Oh, there was cool air, but I had to stick my fingers inside the vent to actually feel it. Now that the temp is down to a "cool" 90°, it's working again. Someone tell me again what an expensive 2-zone, 7-day, 4-period energy-monster is good for if it doesn't put out air on the hottest days and heat on the coldest. Besides, I did the math the other day and I figured out that, added together, I spend about 30 minutes a day readjusting the thermonstat. That's about 182 hours a year! The little 1-zone, no frills AC in the cottage works better and seems much more efficient. Here's our forecast:

• Today: 107
• Tuesday: 108
• Wednesday: 106
• Thursday: 96
• Friday: 91

Wow. Looks like we're getting a cold snap just in time for the weekend.

A Satisfied Exhaustion

Nettl, Joel and I got a lot accomplished on the cottage today and, wow, does it look better! I just got out of the shower, where I think I washed off about five pounds of sweat. Tomorrow, I'm taking a day off so that I'm not one of the walking dead when I set back in on Tuesday.

Thanks for all the help, Joel! You're awesome!

Fixing a Hole...

One wouldn't think of Spackling a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house as a big job, but when the house has been lived in only by college students for the past ten years, the picture changes. Remember when we were that age? Remember all of the posters, mementos, calendars, and greeting cards we stuck to our walls?

When I Spackled the walls in our last house (which was considerably larger than the cottage) I used only half a can of Spackle. In the past two days, our little cottage has consumed an entire can, and I'm really frugal with it because I don't like sanding all that much. But, you see, I'm rather house-proud and I feel that a job worth doing is worth doing right. In other words, if I'm going to have to motivate my lazy ass to step up and down a thousand times off of a step stool and pull all those nails, tacks and push pins before I spend bucks (and several days) on painting, I'm going to effin' Spackle! There's nothing worse than a freshly painted wall that's pockmarked with unfilled nail holes. I mean, what's the point?

I'm not kidding. There was one 4-inch spot on one of the master bedroom walls that had about twenty holes in it. It was while I Spackled it that I apologized to my dad for all of the holes he filled (several times) in my bedroom walls throughout my teen years without complaint.

Thanks, Dad.

Liebst Du, Ville!

Ville (standing on the back porch of the cottage): "Oh, when you get home, you have some Bass Ales in your fridge."

Steph: "In the fridge at home?"

Ville: "Yeah. I knew that you'd want beer after working on this house all evening."

Steph: [Hugs Ville].


Meine Schwester versteht mich!

All the while, we stood in the "pink moment" that was created from the atmospheric conditions caused by the eruption of a Russian volcano a few months ago. It took all this time to reach us and it was beautiful!

Damned Hot

We're in a heat advisory until Saturday evening. Tomorrow (today, actually), which is supposed to be the hottest day so far this year, is supposed to get as high as 107°. Ye gods! Looks like I'd better pack that jug of lemonade to take to the cottage. I'm taking sandwiches and stuff so that Nettl can have lunch with me. I'm also taking my laptop and speakers with me.

Spackle, sandpaper, Mozart, Spackle, sandpaper, Mozart...



Photo credit: OutOfTownJim


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UPDATE:
Well, scrap that idea for today. My cell phone alarm didn't go off and I just woke up. The whole making lunch, gathering up my tools, and taking my laptop and speakers thing is just too much work when I have an "overslept" headache. Plus, I have to stop and put gas in the pickup (back when I was a kid, I announced to my mom that I "...don't do action verbs when I first wake up". It takes me a while to fully wake up. I'll go over tomorrow. Ville, drop by! I'll be over there around noon.

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UPDATED UPDATE:
Okay, I'm going over this evening to deliver prep and cleaning supplies. I'll do a little work and then come home tired enough to go to bed at a decent time. That way, I can get up (relatively) early so that Nettl and I can make a full day of it tomorrow. (I'll also be making ice tonight for tomorrow. Unfortunately, the fridge over there doesn't even have an icemaker, much less the in-the-door dispenser I'm terrified of living without!)