Yep, I'm doing it. Live, stream-of-consciousness blogging as I watch the royal wedding, preserving my every thought for posterity. Mock me if you like, but I'm having fun. (All times are local . . . work is going to be interesting today!)
3:01: Crap, I should have gotten up earlier. They've already started!
3:03: And they just confirmed that there will be no awesome wedding entrance dance. No surprise . . . but still . . . :-(
3:07: Is it really appropriate for the crowds to be cheering for the Beckhams' arrival? And the timing right after random British dude hired by the Today Show talks about how this is going to be a very dignified affair with no awesome entrance dance. Nice timing.
3:11: The prince appears to be leaving a whole minute late! The horror!! The horror!!
3:12: What exactly is the difference between a supporter and a best man? They're making such a big deal of it, but I can't discern anything beyond the titles.
3:13: *sigh* Those boys are soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute!!!!!!!!
3:17: "Of course Kate, or Catherine as I should call her will be the last to arrive at the abbey . . . " Good thing this is a prompt and punctual British wedding. If it was a Mormon wedding odds are that I'd miss the whole thing because she'd have to keep waiting and waiting while the late people trickled in. Plus I'd probably be at work for the whole thing. The whole buncha time zones away thing does have its perks, I guess.
3:19: Cool shot of the church bells!
3:22: Apparently the service will begin with an "introit" . . . however that is spelled. What is an introit?
3:25: I wish we wore hats as much as the British upper crust wore hats. Those girls know how to rock an awesome hat. Trivia: those funky hats that aren't actually hats because they're so small and perched at such a crazy impossible angle that they clearly have to be pinned on? They're called fascinators. Learned that from all the Kate coverage. I like fascinators. :-)
3:34: The only reason I know who the Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie are is because there is a question in the Battle of the Sexes board game my mom bought years ago to be played at parties I had (only happened once) that asks the names of the Duchess of York's daughters. My fascination with all things royal has kind of stuck to the yummy boys in close proximity to the throne, lol. Also, they are very pretty girls but they are neither of them any Diana. Or Kate. Zara Phillips, on the other hand? Holy freaking gorgeous.
Can you tell I've discovered the existence of a lot more of the royal family in the last six months? Confession: Yes, I've been a sucker for pretty much every news story having to do with this wedding. I spent, like, an hour last night clicking from article to article about it. I would never, however get my teeth tattooed.
3:41: Speaking of the York princesses . . . holy fascinators girls! Awe. Some.
3:46: And we are T-minus five minutes until Kate arrives . . . can't wait to see the dress!!!
3:48: So apparently some of the ubber-hoity-toity British ladies are having a conniption over the rumor that Kate might be wearing her hair down. Dumbest freak out ever.
3:49: Okay, those church bells are totally making me picture the wedding scene from Robin Hood. The Disney version. You know, the one with animals . . .
3:52: Oooooooo, Kate's getting in the car . . . must be a big deal, the commentators went silent to watch. The top looks very Grace Kelly. I like. And the hair is DOWN . . . dun dun DUN!!! As a fellow down-haired bride I say you go girl.
3:56: Is it just me, or do the bridesmaids look like they're dressed almost identically to Diana's?
3:58: She's waving!! She's relaxed!! It's incredible!! Seriously? Shut up, commentators.
4:00: She arrives right on time . . . so not a Mormon wedding. And the dress = FABULOUSLY, AMAZINGLY, GORGEOUS. Pippa's dress is very lovely too.
4:03: That train is a touch shorter than Diana's 25-footer. But just a tad, lol.
4:04: Dang, I wish I'd gotten an entrance fanfare like this. How fun would that have been? :-)
4:09: Six minutes? Holy longest aisle walk ever!
4:10: Hey, I know this song! MoTab sings it all the time! Wait . . . these are slightly different words . . . weird. (It's "Guide Us Oh Thou Great Jehovah" . . . sort of . . . )
4:12: Hello Elton John.
4:13: Hello Posh Spice. And husband.
4:14: Luke's quoting Princess Bride. Day = made. (Yes, Luke joined me a few minutes ago . . . because he's awesome like that.)
4:15: What would happen if someone did speak up when the clergydude said "speak now . . . "? Especially at this wedding?!
4:16: Does the whole congregation have to stand the whole time? Oy! Also - how funny would it have been if William had gotten his own names mixed up?
4:16: Yay!! Kate got the names right!! Apparently there are those who say that Diana technically married Charles' father because of the way she flubbed up his names . . .
4:18: *sigh* even his voice is hot . . .
4:20: With every different angle I am liking her dress more and more . . .
4:21: Okay, I'll admit I know nothing about any wedding ceremony different from my own, but seriously - they just walked away from the altar to some chairs on the side . . . why? What the what? Aren't they supposed to stay where everyone can see them? So confused . . .
4:22: Hello again, Princess Beatrice. And Princess Beatrice's crazy awesome funky fascinator.
4:23: We've seen Elton John multiple times now. Luke's asking for Mr. Bean. And theorizing that we'll see him climbing a tree to save a cat.
4:24: Who is that and why is he speechifying? . . . . . okay, not speechifying apparently . . . more like sermonizing . . . which means he must be one of the three priestly guys co-conducting . . .
4:25: Wait! Turns out it's Kate's brother James. So my original question stands. Why?
4:32: And now, after the speechifying we have sermonizing. Is the wedding part over? What's going on now? So . . . confused . . .
4:37: Is it just me, or does William look a little bored?
4:38: Is Kate not allowed to let her back touch the back of the chair anymore Jane Austen style? I hope for her sake she's just trying to be uber-proper. Especially considering how comfortably William is sitting.
4:39: Song #4. Is all this because it's a royal wedding, or is this typical of any church wedding for the Church of England?
4:42: They're back! So . . . the wedding part wasn't done . . . I think?
4:43: Someone in that choir is hitting an awesomely low note.
4:44: There are full grown trees along the aisle. And well above them there are massive chandeliers. Westminster Abbey has been bumped up several notches on my Places I Gotta See List. And it was already pretty high.
4:45: Wait, they're just praying. Why couldn't they pray from their chairs? Everybody else is . . . I don't get non-Mormon weddings . . .
4:47: Holy crap, they've got a full symphonic orchestra in there!! Where have they been hiding?!
4:49: Hello commoners stuck watching outside. I mean . . . er . . . cheerio! God save the Queen and all that! :-)
4:51: I'm cracking up over the conversation we just had . . .
Luke: So . . . she's going to be queen?
Me: Ummm . . . not for a while.
Luke: What's the queen's name?
Me: Ummmmm . . . Elizabeth . . .
Luke: So when she croaks . . .
Me: Charles will be king.
Luke: Wait, so this dude's not next in line?
Maybe it's not as funny if you not a royal junkie, but I'm rather amused. Fear not, Luke just recieved a brief lesson in who's who and who's where in line for the throne.
4:54: I think it's over . . . they're leaving anyway. And the commentators are talking again - lame. Yeah, I only followed what was going on for, like, the first 15 minutes.
4:57: And the instant replays begin. To bad there are no cameras where they're signing the license or whatever. Then the commentators would stay shut up.
4:58: Matt Lauer, you are a good looking guy, but no one cares about what made you emotional during the ceremony. And that joke was not funny.
5:00: Oooooooooooo there's the carriage!!!!
5:01: Hello again Princess Beatrice's fascinator. That is seriously the WEIRDEST one I've ever seen. I can't get enough of it.
5:03: They just showed the schedule of events. They're not going to get to the balcony for another hour?! Blargh.
5:04: We so should have had a fanfare when we came out of the temple. Would have ROCKED.
5:05: OMG!!! OMG!! The new princess curtsied to the queen!! And smiled!! Whenever I think I'm getting too obsessive I'm reminded that there are people obsessed to a really ridiculous degree. Also: shut up commentators.
5:07: Finally a satisfying shot of the tiara!! And I wholeheartedly approve of it.
5:08: Wait, wasn't she supposed to leave her bouquet on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier as she walked by? I guess they'll go back later . . .
5:09: More Robin Hood bells. They should totally run to the carriage like in the movie. :-)
5:10: I didn't time this one, but this aisle walk might have been even longer than the first one . . .
5:11: Wishing we'd done the Temple Square carriage ride right about now . . .
5:13: If it's only going to take a few minutes to get to Buckingham Palace, why is it going to take an hour to get to the balcony? Seriously, no one cares about the rest of the family today. Grrr.
5:16: Apparently six weeks after the honeymoon the royal couple is going to Canada. Cue Lacey booking tickets to Canada. :-P
5:20: I read yesterday that for the second reception - the party - they're hanging disco balls in the throne room. There are no words for how much I would love to see that. Here's hoping for leaked pictures tomorrow!
5:22: The commentators mentioned Princess Catherine. Luke said "Who's Princess Catherine?"
Say it with me kids - Face. Palm. :-)
5:24: A few minutes to get to the palace? BIG FAT LIE! It took over ten. Stupid commentators. Shut up.
5:26: Speaking of official photographs, I really want to copy of Kate's white engagement picture dress. The blue dress was gorgeous and I love it, but the white one is the one I sort of covet. Also, while Luke did not give me a replica of the engagement ring for our anniversary, my birthday is coming up soon . . . lol.
5:31: Okay, it's decided. I do not like Camilla's hat. And that dislike is not connected to the fact that I do not like her.
5:32: More bells!! Yay!! I am loving all the bell music.
5:35: Members of the royal family are supposed to curtsy lower than commoners? A very low "court curtsy"? Does this strike anyone else as backwards?
5:36: Natalie Morrales - 1) I like your hat. 2) Shut up.
5:37: The jumbotrons in the streets of London are showing commercials. I don't know why, but I find this awesome.
5:38: "It's important to remember that these are not toy soldiers." Really? I was wondering . . . it's so hard to tell, you know. Shut UP commentators!!!!!
5:40: Okay, NBC. I realize that you can show nothing I am interested in until they get to the balcony. But I'm still mad that you're showing commercials again.
5:47: Guards in funny fuzzy tall black hats. Giggle. :-)
6:04: Still waiting . . . what's taking so long? Grrrrrr. Also: the commentators are right - if this was happening in the US no way no how would the crowd be so calm and courteous moving toward the palace. The number of times I nearly got trampled from people determined to be the first in line for a freaking stunt show (not to get in - to get in line!) . . . because if you're not there three hours in advance you'll never get in, never mind the fact that the people who work there told you to come back 45 minutes early . . . GAH!!!! But I digress. Anyway - why can't Americans be as polite as Brits?
6:09: "This . . . was . . . quite orderly, I think some of the Americans are coming in now . . . " accompanied by shots of people pushing and shoving. ROTFL!! Okay, you are one commentator who can keep talking. I feel so vindicated. Justified. Satisfied. :-)
6:15: Oooooooooo . . . someone's peeking out the window!!! Such suspense!!!! Wait a second . . . people are taking bets on exactly how many seconds this kiss is going to last? It's official - my healthy fascination has not crossed into obsession.
6:17: PIRATES TRAILER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! First time seeing it . . . when did it get released and how did I miss it? Also, I think I already have a favorite line - "What were you doing in the convent anyway?" "I thought it was a brothel. Easy mistake." I've been waffling about seeing this movie, because really, the horse is really starting to be rather well beaten. But I might have to now.
6:20: "How did the royal kiss become a tradition?" Who cares, it is and that's all that matters right now. Shut up commentators.
6:21: Someone could totally make a drinking game based on me saying "shut up commentators," couldn't they? :-)
6:22: Oh look, the sun's coming up!
6:25: Here they are!! Yay!!! Hooray for British promptness!!! I think her dress got prettier in the last hour.
6:27: Well. That was short. Lots of people just lost of lot of money.
6:27: Slow-mo replay? Really? Sure, it was short, but that's a bit much, don't you think?
6:29: Falling more and more in love with her earrings too.
6:29: Take 2 = much better.
6:30: My regular alarm just went off. Crap. Guess I better get in the shower and get the day started now.
6:30: Why couldn't we have a military flyover? Oh yeah . . . not actually royalty. :-) Also - Kate looks a little dazed. Quite understandable.
6:32: People actually climbed into the fountain? Seriously? Insane. Ridiculous. Bet they're American.
6:33: *sigh* Gotta sign off. That was a GORGEOUS dress.
That was fun. But this is going to be a long day. :-)
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Less Intense, Perhaps More Bitter
So we've been all moved and stuff for about a week now, and while we're still kind of settling in, it's really nice to be out of the old place. Quite a relief.
Remember this? Of course you don't. But that's okay. I'd've forgotten it myself by now if it hadn't been a constant thorn in our sides since then.
The crazy thing is that somehow all the anger and frustration that I've been forced to bottle up for the past (almost) year has somehow dissipated. I really have no idea what happened . . . for months now I've been looking forward to the moment I could finally let go and rant on and on and on and have everyone tell me what a tragic little martyr I've been - or what a whiny little brat, as the case may be - but now that I can, the need for the catharsis is gone. Heaven knows I'm not complaining, but I am a bit confused.
Anyway, while the anger is gone there is still a fair amount of bitterness and resentment, so I'm hoping that one big, albeit milder than planned, purging will get rid of what remains. Feel free to tell me what a martyr/and/or/brat I am anyway. :-)
Anyway. As some of you know, the biggest reason we moved is because we couldn't stand the management at the old place anymore. Everything I said in the other blog? Completely true. 100% We had to get out.
What with hindsight and all that, I'm kicking myself just a little bit, because it was obvious within days of our taking over maintenance duties that it had been a bad idea. First there was the griping from the manager to me about the previous couple and things they'd done she didn't like while we were checking people in and out of apartments. It struck me as odd, but I just figured that sometimes people need to vent. Then there was the fire - and this seriously bugged me that night, and has ever since. When I called her to tell her about the fire the first thing she said - perfectly calmly - was to call the fire department. By then the first two fire departments were there . . . I really don't know how she didn't hear the sirens. When I told her they were there though, her tone completely changed. Short, a little snippy even. "Well. I guess I'll be there as soon as I can, then." It confused me a little at the time - I couldn't figure out why the conversation had gone that way. Did she think we were stupid, that calling 911 wouldn't occur to anyone in the entire complex? Or did she honestly think I'd called to get permission to call 911 . . . that we should have gotten permission first? Looking back that's what I find myself believing. We usurped her authority - it's ridiculously petty, but I can't think of any other reason for such an immediate change in tone.
Then the next day both the manager and the owner of the building chose not to cancel their (independent) plans to go out of town. Frankly, I still find this pretty unforgivable. They were both there the night before, they both knew that there would be lots of people around Saturday morning investigating and officials wanting to talk to people in charge and questions to be answered. But they still chose not only to leave the county, but to not answer their phones. Which left Luke and me having to pretend to be in charge. It wasn't too terrible, especially since Luke had been the first person on the scene and everything, but it still struck us both as irresponsible at the very least. Especially when the manager's phone must have been ringing off the hook all day . . . I think at one point there were five of us taking turns calling her. As soon as one person got her voice mail another person would start calling - and still, no answer until late afternoon. The building you're in charge of managing was on fire 12 hours ago and you go off to Salt Lake for the day and let your phone ring? I'm sorry, what?
That pretty much set the tone for our entire tenure as maintenance people - whenever we needed to reach her, she wasn't reachable . . . but we were expected to be on call constantly. A couple of months ago she called me to ask if I'd received an email she'd sent yet. I hadn't, so I asked when she'd sent it - ten minutes ago. The matter in the email wasn't urgent, and she asked us to call when we got it, but apparently we were supposed be checking our email every couple of minutes.
It was actually our inability to reach her when we needed her that was the last straw. My first blog came after the "mailbox debacle." The apartments had mailboxes that I'm pretty sure were the originals . . . and it showed. They were banged up, dented, and just in generally terrible shape. There were a couple of boxes that wouldn't close at all because of the damage. Every time someone would complain about not being able to lock their mailbox the manager would send us an email asking Luke to try and fix it, which he couldn't, as he told her every time. Finally the owner agreed to pony up the money for new boxes, and due to the constant problem of door keys and mail keys walking off (due to a non-existent key collecting system) they thankfully took our suggestion to have only one key per apartment. So the new boxes were installed, but they didn't have the main locks from the post office yet, those would be coming in a couple of days because it was Friday and the post office didn't have the locks ready. So it was arranged that we would keep using the old boxes until the post office locks were put in, then we would give out the keys to the new ones, and then the old ones would be removed.
That was what was supposed to happen. What really happened though . . . the next day (Friday) I came home from work and saw that the old boxes were gone. We weren't supposed to start using the new boxes until Tuesday, so I was rather confused - as was the mailman, who spent about an hour in the parking lot on the phone because, as it turned out, the locks weren't in the new boxes yet. And I think it might have been slightly illegal to put mail in boxes that weren't secure. But eventually he put the mail in there, having no choice, and people started wanting their mail. We weren't sure what to do, so I spent about 4 hours trying to call the manager. Not only did she not answer the office phone, she also wouldn't answer the emergency number . . . which kind of begs the question of why would you have a separate number for emergencies if you're not going to answer it. Eventually we had to take matters into our own hands and guess at what she would say, so we gave the keys out and I emailed her explaining the situation and how we'd tried and failed to reach her. The reply was a lecture about not doing things without permission and that if something like that happened again to call her. It went back and forth for a while, me explaining that I tried to call her but never got an answer (or even a return call . . . I'm not even sure she listened to the voice mails I left) and that we'd had to make a guess about what to do. To which she replied, essentially, "next time, call me."
I nearly replied with "I DID CALL YOU, BUT YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE!"
The kicker? The person who removed the boxes was her husband. I'm all for nepotism, seeing as it's the only reason I have a job and all, but this place was Nepotism Nirvana. I think we were the only people she had doing anything around the apartments who were not related to her. Anyway, I don't know if she told him to take the boxes down or he just decided to do it without knowing we still needed them, but the plain fact is that he screwed up, she went missing (again), and we ended up paying for it.
By this point Luke and I were both seething. It was the proverbial straw on the back of a camel that had six months' worth of minor annoyances piled high. That's when we decided we were moving . . . except our lease wasn't up until May. Luke was almost ready to break it and just leave, but in the end we decided to suck it up and take what discounted rent we could get for six more months and save up for what would probably be a more expensive place. (and don't get me wrong, we both really appreciated the whole rent-reduction thing . . . the working conditions just sucked.)
There were a million other little things that happened that I'd planned on complaining about.
Like the time in January that the girl in the apartment next to the laundry room came and told us her bathroom was inexplicably flooding. Turned out it was a pipe in a water heater closet in the laundry room. Just 3 inches of pipe coming out of the wall, attached to nothing as far as we could see and merrily gushing forth water. The manager actually answered that time, which surprised me to speechlessness and she almost hung up. I explained the situation, and how we couldn't turn it off because there was no shut-off valve. She made some calls, then called me back saying her brother was one his way and that "he'll be able to shut it off." Oh, to have seen the look on her face when he told her there was no shut-off valve. Turns out it was on overflow pipe from an upper water heater that was malfunctioning.
Or the time in August that we had a knock on our door at 10:15 PM wanting to check in to his apartment. Didn't know which one he was going in to, didn't know if he'd signed all the paper work needed for us to be allowed to give him the keys had he known which apartment. Turns out he knew he would be getting into town late that night and got permission from the manager to come to us that late because she figured "when my husband and I were newlyweds we were always up late so I figured you would be too." Okay, ummmm . . .
1) I was taught that common courtesy says you don't knock on doors that late unless it's an emergency. Is that rule now as outdated as rotary phones or something?
2) You knew he would be coming to our door and didn't think it necessary to tell us? What if we hadn't been there?
3) I don't know what you and your husband were doing on those late nights, but if we're up that late there are about half a dozen things we might be doing and we don't appreciate any of them being interrupted.
Then there's the fact that if you go on maternity leave, and you leave five people in charge of covering one aspect of your job while you're gone . . . well, if those five people working together can't figure out how your system works, the problem is probably not them. And it's your own fault that you get calls every single day you're gone.
I have dozens of other stories of frustrations and grievances . . . but these are the only ones that still bug me, and the annoyance is even fading for them. It's odd, but I'm glad. And, I will admit, a little disappointed - you know how I love my rants! :-) But anyway . . . I've got the little bit of anger that's left off my chest, and now I think I can eventually forget about it. That's good, right?
P. ost S. cript
Of course there is no way in Hades this would ever happen . . . but it would be awesome. And if it does, you'll wake up to a full report Friday morning. Yes, I am getting up 4:00 in the morning . . . I'm probably going to regret it, but I'm going to do it!
Remember this? Of course you don't. But that's okay. I'd've forgotten it myself by now if it hadn't been a constant thorn in our sides since then.
The crazy thing is that somehow all the anger and frustration that I've been forced to bottle up for the past (almost) year has somehow dissipated. I really have no idea what happened . . . for months now I've been looking forward to the moment I could finally let go and rant on and on and on and have everyone tell me what a tragic little martyr I've been - or what a whiny little brat, as the case may be - but now that I can, the need for the catharsis is gone. Heaven knows I'm not complaining, but I am a bit confused.
Anyway, while the anger is gone there is still a fair amount of bitterness and resentment, so I'm hoping that one big, albeit milder than planned, purging will get rid of what remains. Feel free to tell me what a martyr/and/or/brat I am anyway. :-)
Anyway. As some of you know, the biggest reason we moved is because we couldn't stand the management at the old place anymore. Everything I said in the other blog? Completely true. 100% We had to get out.
What with hindsight and all that, I'm kicking myself just a little bit, because it was obvious within days of our taking over maintenance duties that it had been a bad idea. First there was the griping from the manager to me about the previous couple and things they'd done she didn't like while we were checking people in and out of apartments. It struck me as odd, but I just figured that sometimes people need to vent. Then there was the fire - and this seriously bugged me that night, and has ever since. When I called her to tell her about the fire the first thing she said - perfectly calmly - was to call the fire department. By then the first two fire departments were there . . . I really don't know how she didn't hear the sirens. When I told her they were there though, her tone completely changed. Short, a little snippy even. "Well. I guess I'll be there as soon as I can, then." It confused me a little at the time - I couldn't figure out why the conversation had gone that way. Did she think we were stupid, that calling 911 wouldn't occur to anyone in the entire complex? Or did she honestly think I'd called to get permission to call 911 . . . that we should have gotten permission first? Looking back that's what I find myself believing. We usurped her authority - it's ridiculously petty, but I can't think of any other reason for such an immediate change in tone.
Then the next day both the manager and the owner of the building chose not to cancel their (independent) plans to go out of town. Frankly, I still find this pretty unforgivable. They were both there the night before, they both knew that there would be lots of people around Saturday morning investigating and officials wanting to talk to people in charge and questions to be answered. But they still chose not only to leave the county, but to not answer their phones. Which left Luke and me having to pretend to be in charge. It wasn't too terrible, especially since Luke had been the first person on the scene and everything, but it still struck us both as irresponsible at the very least. Especially when the manager's phone must have been ringing off the hook all day . . . I think at one point there were five of us taking turns calling her. As soon as one person got her voice mail another person would start calling - and still, no answer until late afternoon. The building you're in charge of managing was on fire 12 hours ago and you go off to Salt Lake for the day and let your phone ring? I'm sorry, what?
That pretty much set the tone for our entire tenure as maintenance people - whenever we needed to reach her, she wasn't reachable . . . but we were expected to be on call constantly. A couple of months ago she called me to ask if I'd received an email she'd sent yet. I hadn't, so I asked when she'd sent it - ten minutes ago. The matter in the email wasn't urgent, and she asked us to call when we got it, but apparently we were supposed be checking our email every couple of minutes.
It was actually our inability to reach her when we needed her that was the last straw. My first blog came after the "mailbox debacle." The apartments had mailboxes that I'm pretty sure were the originals . . . and it showed. They were banged up, dented, and just in generally terrible shape. There were a couple of boxes that wouldn't close at all because of the damage. Every time someone would complain about not being able to lock their mailbox the manager would send us an email asking Luke to try and fix it, which he couldn't, as he told her every time. Finally the owner agreed to pony up the money for new boxes, and due to the constant problem of door keys and mail keys walking off (due to a non-existent key collecting system) they thankfully took our suggestion to have only one key per apartment. So the new boxes were installed, but they didn't have the main locks from the post office yet, those would be coming in a couple of days because it was Friday and the post office didn't have the locks ready. So it was arranged that we would keep using the old boxes until the post office locks were put in, then we would give out the keys to the new ones, and then the old ones would be removed.
That was what was supposed to happen. What really happened though . . . the next day (Friday) I came home from work and saw that the old boxes were gone. We weren't supposed to start using the new boxes until Tuesday, so I was rather confused - as was the mailman, who spent about an hour in the parking lot on the phone because, as it turned out, the locks weren't in the new boxes yet. And I think it might have been slightly illegal to put mail in boxes that weren't secure. But eventually he put the mail in there, having no choice, and people started wanting their mail. We weren't sure what to do, so I spent about 4 hours trying to call the manager. Not only did she not answer the office phone, she also wouldn't answer the emergency number . . . which kind of begs the question of why would you have a separate number for emergencies if you're not going to answer it. Eventually we had to take matters into our own hands and guess at what she would say, so we gave the keys out and I emailed her explaining the situation and how we'd tried and failed to reach her. The reply was a lecture about not doing things without permission and that if something like that happened again to call her. It went back and forth for a while, me explaining that I tried to call her but never got an answer (or even a return call . . . I'm not even sure she listened to the voice mails I left) and that we'd had to make a guess about what to do. To which she replied, essentially, "next time, call me."
I nearly replied with "I DID CALL YOU, BUT YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE!"
The kicker? The person who removed the boxes was her husband. I'm all for nepotism, seeing as it's the only reason I have a job and all, but this place was Nepotism Nirvana. I think we were the only people she had doing anything around the apartments who were not related to her. Anyway, I don't know if she told him to take the boxes down or he just decided to do it without knowing we still needed them, but the plain fact is that he screwed up, she went missing (again), and we ended up paying for it.
By this point Luke and I were both seething. It was the proverbial straw on the back of a camel that had six months' worth of minor annoyances piled high. That's when we decided we were moving . . . except our lease wasn't up until May. Luke was almost ready to break it and just leave, but in the end we decided to suck it up and take what discounted rent we could get for six more months and save up for what would probably be a more expensive place. (and don't get me wrong, we both really appreciated the whole rent-reduction thing . . . the working conditions just sucked.)
There were a million other little things that happened that I'd planned on complaining about.
Like the time in January that the girl in the apartment next to the laundry room came and told us her bathroom was inexplicably flooding. Turned out it was a pipe in a water heater closet in the laundry room. Just 3 inches of pipe coming out of the wall, attached to nothing as far as we could see and merrily gushing forth water. The manager actually answered that time, which surprised me to speechlessness and she almost hung up. I explained the situation, and how we couldn't turn it off because there was no shut-off valve. She made some calls, then called me back saying her brother was one his way and that "he'll be able to shut it off." Oh, to have seen the look on her face when he told her there was no shut-off valve. Turns out it was on overflow pipe from an upper water heater that was malfunctioning.
Or the time in August that we had a knock on our door at 10:15 PM wanting to check in to his apartment. Didn't know which one he was going in to, didn't know if he'd signed all the paper work needed for us to be allowed to give him the keys had he known which apartment. Turns out he knew he would be getting into town late that night and got permission from the manager to come to us that late because she figured "when my husband and I were newlyweds we were always up late so I figured you would be too." Okay, ummmm . . .
1) I was taught that common courtesy says you don't knock on doors that late unless it's an emergency. Is that rule now as outdated as rotary phones or something?
2) You knew he would be coming to our door and didn't think it necessary to tell us? What if we hadn't been there?
3) I don't know what you and your husband were doing on those late nights, but if we're up that late there are about half a dozen things we might be doing and we don't appreciate any of them being interrupted.
Then there's the fact that if you go on maternity leave, and you leave five people in charge of covering one aspect of your job while you're gone . . . well, if those five people working together can't figure out how your system works, the problem is probably not them. And it's your own fault that you get calls every single day you're gone.
I have dozens of other stories of frustrations and grievances . . . but these are the only ones that still bug me, and the annoyance is even fading for them. It's odd, but I'm glad. And, I will admit, a little disappointed - you know how I love my rants! :-) But anyway . . . I've got the little bit of anger that's left off my chest, and now I think I can eventually forget about it. That's good, right?
P. ost S. cript
Of course there is no way in Hades this would ever happen . . . but it would be awesome. And if it does, you'll wake up to a full report Friday morning. Yes, I am getting up 4:00 in the morning . . . I'm probably going to regret it, but I'm going to do it!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Where Time Goes
So after nearly two years of blogging you've probably realized I'm not much of the type to post the mushy "it's the 17-month anniversary of our third kiss, yay!" type of posts . . .
BUT . . .
I find myself wanting to counteract the doom and gloom, both meteorological and philosophical.
So . . .
*ahem*
Two years ago today was the day of the Salt Lake City Marathon. Most obnoxious timing on their part, I must say. Because what should have been a ten minute drive from the downtown Marriott to the Salt Lake Temple took 20+. The way my mother was freaking out you would think they canceled weddings if people were more than 2 minutes late. But Grandma, being the awesome grandma that she is, just kept telling everybody to relax and that everything would work out just fine. Which it did. And I'm sure we weren't the only ones who were late. But in the end everything was worth it.
Thus far it appears the rest of our lives is going to be just like our wedding day: the process a bit of a hassle and sometimes a pain in a few unpleasant places, but ultimately decidedly worth it.
I think this is my favorite picture . . . a little ironic since my dad took it instead of one of the professionals. But after mom raved and raved about the people she picked in the end neither of us were especially impressed with the end result.
And on a completely frivolous and shallow note, I'm still immensely glad it was better weather then than there was today. Because I would have been really bummed if I couldn't have worn my awesome wedding shoes:
Hopefully the weather will dry out soon so I can start wearing these babies again!
Okay, this picture is just to show off my awesome cathedral veil, which I might be a touch vain about. I got so many comments about it at the time . . . like people had never seen one longer than fingertip length before. It was kind of weird actually.
Anyway. The end. Or . . . not.
P. ost S. cript
Interesting stuff. And kind of cute.
BUT . . .
I find myself wanting to counteract the doom and gloom, both meteorological and philosophical.
So . . .
*ahem*
Two years ago today was the day of the Salt Lake City Marathon. Most obnoxious timing on their part, I must say. Because what should have been a ten minute drive from the downtown Marriott to the Salt Lake Temple took 20+. The way my mother was freaking out you would think they canceled weddings if people were more than 2 minutes late. But Grandma, being the awesome grandma that she is, just kept telling everybody to relax and that everything would work out just fine. Which it did. And I'm sure we weren't the only ones who were late. But in the end everything was worth it.
Thus far it appears the rest of our lives is going to be just like our wedding day: the process a bit of a hassle and sometimes a pain in a few unpleasant places, but ultimately decidedly worth it.
I think this is my favorite picture . . . a little ironic since my dad took it instead of one of the professionals. But after mom raved and raved about the people she picked in the end neither of us were especially impressed with the end result.And on a completely frivolous and shallow note, I'm still immensely glad it was better weather then than there was today. Because I would have been really bummed if I couldn't have worn my awesome wedding shoes:
Hopefully the weather will dry out soon so I can start wearing these babies again!
Okay, this picture is just to show off my awesome cathedral veil, which I might be a touch vain about. I got so many comments about it at the time . . . like people had never seen one longer than fingertip length before. It was kind of weird actually.Anyway. The end. Or . . . not.
P. ost S. cript
Interesting stuff. And kind of cute.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Laden with Happiness and Tears
Ten points if you can name the song/musical.
So I'm sitting here right now just about ready to cry my eyes out, mostly from stress. And as cathartic as that will be (because let's face it, I'll get around to it sometime tonight) I'm not quite ready for it now. Which means that you all get stories from my week to make you laugh and cry . . . at least in theory.
So Monday was the first day back to school after spring break. The last day of school before spring break was April Fool's Day. Keep that in mind. Anyway, it's lunchtime for everybody, and I've got a bit of a break and I head to the bathroom. As I'm closing the door I notice there's someone in there, which is a little startling, since I figured the place was empty because, you know, that door was unlocked. So I gasp a little and I'm about to apologize and back out when I realize that this person is decidedly NOT someone I work with. Gray, gross, wrinkly face, freaky eyes, freaky facial expression, and those Victorian style/steam punk/goth-ish clothes - you know the type. Seriously, out of my Unsolved Mysteries nightmares!
So, naturally, my first thought is more or less "oh crap, some creeper has sneaked into the school and into the teacher's rest room just to wait for some unsuspecting female like me to come in and chloroform them or something and I'm going to DIE! Yeah, that's more or less what went through my head in about 3 seconds . . . only not quite that articulate. Then my thoughts caught up to the rest of my brain and I realized it was just a creepy Halloween statue, presumably an April Fool's Day prank that was forgotten over the break. Thankfully, I'm not really one to scream when I'm scared - otherwise I probably would not have recovered my voice yet. And I don't even want to think about the new reputation I would have acquired for myself . . . because they would have heard me in the basement. No, when I'm scared I tend fall under a sort of paralysis, which is generally short-lived, but long enough to not bode well should I ever find myself in real danger akin to the kind I thought I was in for those three seconds.
So after a couple more seconds I can move, but I still just stand there seriously considering walking out and using the other bathroom because this thing is just too creepy. However, my crippling self-consciousness won out and I couldn't bare the thought that even one person would see me and wonder about why I walked out of one and right into the other. So there I am . . . well, you know . . . and the whole time I'm warily watching Mr. Creepy half expecting the thing to suddenly start moving - either because it really is an actual person (completely illogical, and I realized that even as a part of my mind tried to insist it was possible, but I've never claimed to be a very logical thinker) or because of some delayed reaction motion sensor. And maybe it's just the whole two years of living in a world where audio animatronics are all over the place (I'm pretty sure some WDW guests think CMs are highly advanced animatronics . . . ) but I just could not convince myself that that one wasn't impossible.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but now - 4 days later and safe (I think!) in my own apartment I am giggling a little bit because, well, it is kind of amusing. Well played, whoever thought of that. Well played. (but not as good as your brown "E's" Katie, lol!)
And now a bit of a sob story. A very complicated sob story . . . in case you haven't guessed already, this is going to be a long post today - kudos in advance to those of you who make it through. :-)
Anyway.
So we're still in the process of moving, but it's been coming along a bit faster than we'd been imagining. So we decided that Saturday (i.e., tomorrow) we would finish up and sleep at the new place for the first time. Don't you just love plans? Me too! That's probably why they never quite work out the way you plan. Obviously, moving out completely involves moving our bed. Which kind of requires more than the little cars we have. But Luke is a convert and I am, as we all know, a spaz, so while one of our home teachers offered up his truck when we were ready a month ago, we didn't actually call him until yesterday (Thursday, for those of you keeping score). Naturally, he's working all day Saturday so that doesn't work . . . "but I could totally do it now." And Luke says yes. Now, this was about 7:00 last night, and I had been planning on heading back over to the old place in another hour or so to go to sleep, so of course silly little unimportant things like PJs, towels, and morning toiletries are all over there. So I hurry over to get what we need and it's just like going on vacation: I think so very carefully and go through my whole routine in my head and I'm pretty absolutely certain that I have everything we'll need for the next 12 hours or so. But no. I forgot . . . *drum roll* . . . food. We've moved a bit of our kitchen stuff, but not all. Canned foods . . . but not the can opener. Pasta . . . but not the pots and pans. You know. And I forgot to grab my box of pop tarts, my go-to breakfast for weekday mornings. Chik-fil-A never tasted so good as it did this afternoon.
Anyway. Back to last night. Well, actually a bit farther. Some of you may recall my facebook poll about whether we should go to Jason's Deli or In-N-Out on our bi-annual excursion to Layton. (It's really obnoxious that that is the closest Kay Jewelers, but on the other hand it gives us an excuse to get out of town every so often and the change of scene is always so nice. For those who care - we ended up taking the recommendations for Five Guys. It's good, but nothing stellar. Anyway.) So we're driving my little neon and as we're coming out of Sardine Canyon it starts shuddering. More and more. So we decide we better pull over soon. We get caught at the first light out of Sardine and it starts shuddering so bad I wasn't sure we were going to make it to the Walmart parking lot we'd decided to shoot for. But as soon as the light changed and we started going again things were better. Still shuddering, but better. Another light, and it gets all violent again, and we were barely able to limp in the parking lot. Long story short we got it to our awesomely dependable and trustworthy mechanic that we're so glad we found, he couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he cleaned out some air filter or other and it seemed to be running fine, but he didn't charge us anything because he said flat out he wasn't sure he'd actually fixed it. So we drove it home and things seemed okay.
For three weeks. Then last night, when I started my car after picking up the PJs and stuff it shuddered starting up. And while I wasn't especially worried about making it to the other end of town, it was definitely bucking a little again at the lights. We're pretty sure it will make it to Tremonton to our mechanic, and we decided to just not drive it until we can get over there sometime next week. So this morning I took our new car to work. And brought it back home. And Luke and I went to Chik-fil-A. And then I took Luke to work. All along with no problems whatsoever from the car. And then I went to the old place and spent an hour loading it up. And got in. And turned the key.
ZAP-ZAP-POP!!
nothing.
zilch.
nada.
I turn the key and turn the key and I don't even get the little dying cough of an attempt to turn over. No reaction at all. I even wondered for half a second if I was actually turning the key. At this point I'm halfway between freaking out and thinking somewhat calmly about what to do next. And let me tell you, that's an odd feeling. Anyway, I pull out my phone and start going through my phone book thinking who I should start with - who's most likely to be home and available at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. I go through almost every number I have of people in our (old) ward. No answers. A little surprising, but honestly not that shocking. Of course I could call my dad . . . but I kind of don't want to have to wait an hour before help arrives, especially since I emptied out the freezer this time around. But I put the bag of stuff back in the freezer, and start in on the family numbers. Luck, or something, finally strikes and Ashli is home and able to get a hold of a friend of hers who comes over and takes a look at the spark plugs and fuses and apparently they look fine and I tell him my story and he thinks it's a starter problem, but there's nothing he can do right there. Blargh. And Ashli offers her car so I'm not stranded at the place that's the more empty - conveniently enough, she was on her way to Providence anyway - and I call dad and make arrangements to borrow a car until we can get at least one of ours fixed so now we have one of their cars for (hopefully) not long and instead of the two trips I'd planned on making today it'll be two or three tomorrow to get everything else into our new place and I'm coming down from about a 3-hour stint of heightened emotional . . . whatever that's been pushed down so I can deal with what has to be handled calmly all the while being frustrated especially because Luke doesn't even know about the whole thing (well, he does now . . . he called in the middle of this writing, which is part of the reason why it's taken me a couple of hours to get it all down) and really the whole thing would be so much easier if we could just do the whole "being a team" thing instead of me having to do it all myself and really, can't the part where life is just a cakewalk all the time start already?
*sigh*
On the other hand I'm trying to take the whole "this too shall pass" take on it. And I suppose I'm appreciating . . . well, I think it's irony. I'm not one to get all "churchy" on the blogoshpere (although I hope that doesn't cause anyone to wonder about my religiousness), but some very few of you may recall that at the end of 2009 we were having some major chronic car issues. So as 2010 started we prayed long and hard and specifically for some freedom from car troubles. Perhaps too specifically. We asked for a year of no car issues, and unless you count Luke getting rear-ended back in July and the problems caused (which I don't, since it was an outside force messing with the car, not the car dying of its own accord) it was almost 14 months to the day of problem-free-ness when my car crapped out in Brigham last month. Note to self: start being less specific in prayers. At least in car prayers.
So . . . ummm . . . yeah. The chorus of this song? And this one? Pretty much sum up our life perfectly right now. I want to complain, but I kinda can't.
Of course, all prayers, crossed fingers, rain dances, voodoo rituals, etc. in support of cheap car repairs would be awesome. Between both my parents and Ashli's friend the taurus has had at least three dozen diagnoses, ranging from something that dad can fix for a plate of brownies to something that will cost an arm, leg, and our first, second, and third born. Good times.
P. ost S. cript
Ok, now I feel better. At least this hasn't happened to us . . . yet.
So I'm sitting here right now just about ready to cry my eyes out, mostly from stress. And as cathartic as that will be (because let's face it, I'll get around to it sometime tonight) I'm not quite ready for it now. Which means that you all get stories from my week to make you laugh and cry . . . at least in theory.
So Monday was the first day back to school after spring break. The last day of school before spring break was April Fool's Day. Keep that in mind. Anyway, it's lunchtime for everybody, and I've got a bit of a break and I head to the bathroom. As I'm closing the door I notice there's someone in there, which is a little startling, since I figured the place was empty because, you know, that door was unlocked. So I gasp a little and I'm about to apologize and back out when I realize that this person is decidedly NOT someone I work with. Gray, gross, wrinkly face, freaky eyes, freaky facial expression, and those Victorian style/steam punk/goth-ish clothes - you know the type. Seriously, out of my Unsolved Mysteries nightmares!
So, naturally, my first thought is more or less "oh crap, some creeper has sneaked into the school and into the teacher's rest room just to wait for some unsuspecting female like me to come in and chloroform them or something and I'm going to DIE! Yeah, that's more or less what went through my head in about 3 seconds . . . only not quite that articulate. Then my thoughts caught up to the rest of my brain and I realized it was just a creepy Halloween statue, presumably an April Fool's Day prank that was forgotten over the break. Thankfully, I'm not really one to scream when I'm scared - otherwise I probably would not have recovered my voice yet. And I don't even want to think about the new reputation I would have acquired for myself . . . because they would have heard me in the basement. No, when I'm scared I tend fall under a sort of paralysis, which is generally short-lived, but long enough to not bode well should I ever find myself in real danger akin to the kind I thought I was in for those three seconds.
So after a couple more seconds I can move, but I still just stand there seriously considering walking out and using the other bathroom because this thing is just too creepy. However, my crippling self-consciousness won out and I couldn't bare the thought that even one person would see me and wonder about why I walked out of one and right into the other. So there I am . . . well, you know . . . and the whole time I'm warily watching Mr. Creepy half expecting the thing to suddenly start moving - either because it really is an actual person (completely illogical, and I realized that even as a part of my mind tried to insist it was possible, but I've never claimed to be a very logical thinker) or because of some delayed reaction motion sensor. And maybe it's just the whole two years of living in a world where audio animatronics are all over the place (I'm pretty sure some WDW guests think CMs are highly advanced animatronics . . . ) but I just could not convince myself that that one wasn't impossible.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but now - 4 days later and safe (I think!) in my own apartment I am giggling a little bit because, well, it is kind of amusing. Well played, whoever thought of that. Well played. (but not as good as your brown "E's" Katie, lol!)
And now a bit of a sob story. A very complicated sob story . . . in case you haven't guessed already, this is going to be a long post today - kudos in advance to those of you who make it through. :-)
Anyway.
So we're still in the process of moving, but it's been coming along a bit faster than we'd been imagining. So we decided that Saturday (i.e., tomorrow) we would finish up and sleep at the new place for the first time. Don't you just love plans? Me too! That's probably why they never quite work out the way you plan. Obviously, moving out completely involves moving our bed. Which kind of requires more than the little cars we have. But Luke is a convert and I am, as we all know, a spaz, so while one of our home teachers offered up his truck when we were ready a month ago, we didn't actually call him until yesterday (Thursday, for those of you keeping score). Naturally, he's working all day Saturday so that doesn't work . . . "but I could totally do it now." And Luke says yes. Now, this was about 7:00 last night, and I had been planning on heading back over to the old place in another hour or so to go to sleep, so of course silly little unimportant things like PJs, towels, and morning toiletries are all over there. So I hurry over to get what we need and it's just like going on vacation: I think so very carefully and go through my whole routine in my head and I'm pretty absolutely certain that I have everything we'll need for the next 12 hours or so. But no. I forgot . . . *drum roll* . . . food. We've moved a bit of our kitchen stuff, but not all. Canned foods . . . but not the can opener. Pasta . . . but not the pots and pans. You know. And I forgot to grab my box of pop tarts, my go-to breakfast for weekday mornings. Chik-fil-A never tasted so good as it did this afternoon.
Anyway. Back to last night. Well, actually a bit farther. Some of you may recall my facebook poll about whether we should go to Jason's Deli or In-N-Out on our bi-annual excursion to Layton. (It's really obnoxious that that is the closest Kay Jewelers, but on the other hand it gives us an excuse to get out of town every so often and the change of scene is always so nice. For those who care - we ended up taking the recommendations for Five Guys. It's good, but nothing stellar. Anyway.) So we're driving my little neon and as we're coming out of Sardine Canyon it starts shuddering. More and more. So we decide we better pull over soon. We get caught at the first light out of Sardine and it starts shuddering so bad I wasn't sure we were going to make it to the Walmart parking lot we'd decided to shoot for. But as soon as the light changed and we started going again things were better. Still shuddering, but better. Another light, and it gets all violent again, and we were barely able to limp in the parking lot. Long story short we got it to our awesomely dependable and trustworthy mechanic that we're so glad we found, he couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he cleaned out some air filter or other and it seemed to be running fine, but he didn't charge us anything because he said flat out he wasn't sure he'd actually fixed it. So we drove it home and things seemed okay.
For three weeks. Then last night, when I started my car after picking up the PJs and stuff it shuddered starting up. And while I wasn't especially worried about making it to the other end of town, it was definitely bucking a little again at the lights. We're pretty sure it will make it to Tremonton to our mechanic, and we decided to just not drive it until we can get over there sometime next week. So this morning I took our new car to work. And brought it back home. And Luke and I went to Chik-fil-A. And then I took Luke to work. All along with no problems whatsoever from the car. And then I went to the old place and spent an hour loading it up. And got in. And turned the key.
ZAP-ZAP-POP!!
nothing.
zilch.
nada.
I turn the key and turn the key and I don't even get the little dying cough of an attempt to turn over. No reaction at all. I even wondered for half a second if I was actually turning the key. At this point I'm halfway between freaking out and thinking somewhat calmly about what to do next. And let me tell you, that's an odd feeling. Anyway, I pull out my phone and start going through my phone book thinking who I should start with - who's most likely to be home and available at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. I go through almost every number I have of people in our (old) ward. No answers. A little surprising, but honestly not that shocking. Of course I could call my dad . . . but I kind of don't want to have to wait an hour before help arrives, especially since I emptied out the freezer this time around. But I put the bag of stuff back in the freezer, and start in on the family numbers. Luck, or something, finally strikes and Ashli is home and able to get a hold of a friend of hers who comes over and takes a look at the spark plugs and fuses and apparently they look fine and I tell him my story and he thinks it's a starter problem, but there's nothing he can do right there. Blargh. And Ashli offers her car so I'm not stranded at the place that's the more empty - conveniently enough, she was on her way to Providence anyway - and I call dad and make arrangements to borrow a car until we can get at least one of ours fixed so now we have one of their cars for (hopefully) not long and instead of the two trips I'd planned on making today it'll be two or three tomorrow to get everything else into our new place and I'm coming down from about a 3-hour stint of heightened emotional . . . whatever that's been pushed down so I can deal with what has to be handled calmly all the while being frustrated especially because Luke doesn't even know about the whole thing (well, he does now . . . he called in the middle of this writing, which is part of the reason why it's taken me a couple of hours to get it all down) and really the whole thing would be so much easier if we could just do the whole "being a team" thing instead of me having to do it all myself and really, can't the part where life is just a cakewalk all the time start already?
*sigh*
On the other hand I'm trying to take the whole "this too shall pass" take on it. And I suppose I'm appreciating . . . well, I think it's irony. I'm not one to get all "churchy" on the blogoshpere (although I hope that doesn't cause anyone to wonder about my religiousness), but some very few of you may recall that at the end of 2009 we were having some major chronic car issues. So as 2010 started we prayed long and hard and specifically for some freedom from car troubles. Perhaps too specifically. We asked for a year of no car issues, and unless you count Luke getting rear-ended back in July and the problems caused (which I don't, since it was an outside force messing with the car, not the car dying of its own accord) it was almost 14 months to the day of problem-free-ness when my car crapped out in Brigham last month. Note to self: start being less specific in prayers. At least in car prayers.
So . . . ummm . . . yeah. The chorus of this song? And this one? Pretty much sum up our life perfectly right now. I want to complain, but I kinda can't.
Of course, all prayers, crossed fingers, rain dances, voodoo rituals, etc. in support of cheap car repairs would be awesome. Between both my parents and Ashli's friend the taurus has had at least three dozen diagnoses, ranging from something that dad can fix for a plate of brownies to something that will cost an arm, leg, and our first, second, and third born. Good times.
P. ost S. cript
Ok, now I feel better. At least this hasn't happened to us . . . yet.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Shoulda Seen That Coming
Right?So. You may have missed the memo, but it's, like, April. Springtime, right? RIGHT?!?!
Theoretically, at least. But I think I caused a blizzard or something.
'Kay, so for those of you who've missed the other memo, we're moving. Not far, just down by Willow Park. (for those to whom that meant nothing: we're staying in the same town.) That's a great big story in itself and as soon as we've moved you'll be hearing all about it. Anyway, we got the keys to our new place last Thursday, and we don't have to be out of this one until the end of the month so we're taking things nice and slow and easy . . . mostly because we both still get a little twitchy when we think about how we stayed up until almost midnight cramming both our cars full to bursting to start a cross-country drive at, like 5:00 in the morning. Good times.
Anyway. Keys. Thursday. It was great. And we've taken a few loads of stuff over already. And while the packing up and moving the stuff is a bit of a hassle, the unpacking and deciding where things will go is rather a bit fun, so we're enjoying ourselves. Especially since the stuff we've moved so far is stuff we're not going to need for the next couple of weeks.
Or so we thought.
So the weather on Tuesday and Wednesday was absolutely lovely. Beautiful. Chilly, but pleasantly springy. So among all the other stuff, we took our winter coats to the new place on Wednesday. In fact, every last jacket I have went, except for one very light sweater. Because it's sunny, it's springtime, and conference was last week and everybody knows it never snows after conference! I mean, that was how my mom scheduled when the summer clothes came and went - out after April conference, away after October's. That's just, you know, how life works.
I'm sure you've figured out where this is going, but I'll give it to you anyway. It snowed yesterday. Heavily. Unpleasantly. And just one freaking day after moving ALL my jackets to the other side of town - literally, our two apartments are almost as far apart from each other as they can get while still being in the same town! Seriously?!
Of course I didn't even think about it until about an hour before I was headed out of the house last night. Light sweater. Heavy snow. Ah, crap. This wouldn't have been a big deal . . . I mean, I'm sure you're all thinking "why didn't she just go get a jacket from the other place?" because let's be honest, it's a pretty obvious solution.
Except.
It seems that our landlords changed the locks after the last people moved out and we got brand new keys. Great, right? So Thursday we do the whole check-in inspection thing, get our keys, ask all the little questions and stuff, and hear that the landlords are going out of town for the next ten days but if we need anything just go to the people downstairs. Great. We go back over on Saturday to take our first loads of stuff . . . and our keys don't work. At all. Grrrrrrr. So Luke goes downstairs because they're the ones who do the little stuff (kind of like what we've been doing here) and luckily for us they have a key that works. So we've been using that one for the last week, and it hasn't been a problem because I'm on spring break and every time one of us has gone to the new place we've both gone. But last night: Luke's at work. Luke has the only key. Lacey's sooooooooo not getting a coat. Blargh. Good thing it was nice and toasty at Cafe Sabor last night!
So among the other things we did today, we made copies of the working key. As we'd been intending to do all week, but you know how you just never get to the things on the bottom of your list? Yeah, totally bumped that one up today. And the new keys work! Yay!!! And both apartments look a little empty, and the next couple weeks are going to be interesting and it's still snowing today so I still needed to grab that jacket. I told myself that a couple of times whilst unpacking the laundry basket, suitcases, duffel bag, and backpack we're using and reusing rather than bunches of boxes.
Yeah, totally left without grabbing a heavier jacket. I am the world BIGGEST spaz. Didn't even realize it until a couple of hours after we left. Blargh.
I'll go get it tomorrow. Maybe. But let's be honest, I'll probably forget.
And btw, winter? You know what? We are over!
P. ost S. cript
We just might have to get one of these things someday. (I refer, of course, to the roomba, lol)
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Saturday Morning Memory: Variations on a Theme
So I apologize in advance if anyone's been getting sick of all the Broadway talk lately, but it's brought back a great memory from high school.
My senior year we did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat . . . probably better known as just Joseph because holy crap talk about a mouthful of a name! Anyway, it was a huge production with a cast of thousands . . . or, well, dozens at least. Of girls. There were barely enough guys to cover all the male roles - in fact, the guy who played Potiphar also played Reuben, and I don't quite remember but I think Pharaoh might have also played a brother.
Anyway. I was on the tech crew for this particular production, and my assignment ended up being Czarina of the Glitter Girls. Of course, that's not how it was assigned to me per se . . . the five of us chose our own titles and group name because they sounded fun. Put prosaically we spent the show at the very top of the auditorium - the precarious position quite a long ways up . . . at least 100 feet, maybe more . . . sitting on metal grating amid tops of the pulley systems for the curtains and flying sets and such. And we dropped sparkly confetti on the stage at a few points in the production.
It was a unique perspective to watch the show from - the tops of their heads. Very interesting. We had fun with it. And while we mostly did watch quietly, it was also quite unique the way we could chat pretty much all we wanted to as long as we didn't miss our cues, which were kind of hard to miss.
Those of you familiar with Joseph will no doubt recall that in the song "Grovel, Grovel" there is a line ("jail us and beat us we should be blamed") where the guys who sing bass hit a pretty low note. And since every girl involved in the show had a healthy appreciation for a guy who can sing you could almost feel the inaudible sigh from all of us every time that particular line was sung. In fact the girl in charge of the volume for the mikes worn by cast members would nudge up the volume on the two guys singing bass just for that note. We all appreciated it. :-)
Now one of these bass-singing guys was a very cute senior whom quite a few of us girls had a crush on. He, and the rest of the boys playing Joseph's brothers, sang that song on their knees, occasionally bowing down to, you know, grovel, before Pharaoh. Take a moment to remind yourself of where we Glitter Girls were watching the show from. Yeah. :-) Suffice it to say that we always paid attention to this part of the show. And some of those guys had really cute butts. And we'd get all giggly enjoying ourselves as we watched.
So finally closing night came and somehow one of us had what we all thought to be a brilliant idea - why not take a picture of our view of "Grovel, Grovel" just for fun? The stage was well lit at that point in the show, so surely we wouldn't have to worry about the flash. So my best friend Kim brought a disposable camera closing night and while we took other pictures, that was the one it was there for. My spot happened to be directly above our groveling bass-boy (not deliberate, I swear! We didn't know much about the staging when we decided where we would be, we just spread out to cover the entire stage.) so Kim handed me the camera and at the appropriate time I pointed it straight down and snapped.
The stage was well lit, but we forgot to account for the several dozen or more feet of pitch blackness between where we were and the bright lights of the stage. *FLASH!* went the camera, and we found ourselves blinded for what felt like forever. We were a little panicked, certain everyone had seen that flash of light and that we would get in sooooooooooo much trouble at the end of the show. Thankfully (and quite logically, thinking back on it now) we found out later that no one saw a thing. Which is really great considering I was so surprised by the flash that I nearly dropped the camera. That might have been . . . well . . . maybe . . . slightly noticeable. You know, this sudden, random object plummeting from nowhere and shattering on the stage. Or potentially killing somebody as it hit their head. We were melodramatic in envisioning what might have almost possibly happened.
But the show went on and sadly ended just a little later. It's always a little heartbreaking to have a show end . . . they're SO much fun while they last. (side note: the Old Barn community theatre is doing Into the Woods this summer . . . and I found out about auditions this week . . . the day AFTER they took place. GAH!!!) For curtain call we used up the extra confetti we had - and there was a lot more than we'd been expecting because while we had decided to save some specifically for the closing curtain, we hadn't exactly used it sparingly during the other performances. But there was tons left over. So much so that while we started with a small trickle of glitter and as more and more people took their bows we shook it out faster, and by the time the cast got to the end of the whole bowing thing they told us later that they couldn't even see the audience the confetti was so thick. That was kind of awesome.
Life went on, a little bit empty for a while as we all looked for things to fill the time that Joseph had been taking up. Kim got the pictures back, and in one you could kind-of-sort-of-almost make out a couple of rear ends. Vaguely. A little. To this day "grovel, grovel *FLASH*" is a joke we'll occasionally bring up to each other. Good times. I'm one of the lucky ones in the fact that high school was mostly a good time for me, mostly pleasant memories. Talk about living those songs again - I'd go back for a few weeks to live this show again. It was pretty awesome.
P. ost S. cript
In honor of two years ago yesterday, when I had Luke convinced for about 15 minutes that not only was he giving a speech at our reception, but that he had already agreed to do it and had apparently forgotten, behold: something that made us both laugh yesterday.
My senior year we did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat . . . probably better known as just Joseph because holy crap talk about a mouthful of a name! Anyway, it was a huge production with a cast of thousands . . . or, well, dozens at least. Of girls. There were barely enough guys to cover all the male roles - in fact, the guy who played Potiphar also played Reuben, and I don't quite remember but I think Pharaoh might have also played a brother.
Anyway. I was on the tech crew for this particular production, and my assignment ended up being Czarina of the Glitter Girls. Of course, that's not how it was assigned to me per se . . . the five of us chose our own titles and group name because they sounded fun. Put prosaically we spent the show at the very top of the auditorium - the precarious position quite a long ways up . . . at least 100 feet, maybe more . . . sitting on metal grating amid tops of the pulley systems for the curtains and flying sets and such. And we dropped sparkly confetti on the stage at a few points in the production.
It was a unique perspective to watch the show from - the tops of their heads. Very interesting. We had fun with it. And while we mostly did watch quietly, it was also quite unique the way we could chat pretty much all we wanted to as long as we didn't miss our cues, which were kind of hard to miss.
Those of you familiar with Joseph will no doubt recall that in the song "Grovel, Grovel" there is a line ("jail us and beat us we should be blamed") where the guys who sing bass hit a pretty low note. And since every girl involved in the show had a healthy appreciation for a guy who can sing you could almost feel the inaudible sigh from all of us every time that particular line was sung. In fact the girl in charge of the volume for the mikes worn by cast members would nudge up the volume on the two guys singing bass just for that note. We all appreciated it. :-)
Now one of these bass-singing guys was a very cute senior whom quite a few of us girls had a crush on. He, and the rest of the boys playing Joseph's brothers, sang that song on their knees, occasionally bowing down to, you know, grovel, before Pharaoh. Take a moment to remind yourself of where we Glitter Girls were watching the show from. Yeah. :-) Suffice it to say that we always paid attention to this part of the show. And some of those guys had really cute butts. And we'd get all giggly enjoying ourselves as we watched.
So finally closing night came and somehow one of us had what we all thought to be a brilliant idea - why not take a picture of our view of "Grovel, Grovel" just for fun? The stage was well lit at that point in the show, so surely we wouldn't have to worry about the flash. So my best friend Kim brought a disposable camera closing night and while we took other pictures, that was the one it was there for. My spot happened to be directly above our groveling bass-boy (not deliberate, I swear! We didn't know much about the staging when we decided where we would be, we just spread out to cover the entire stage.) so Kim handed me the camera and at the appropriate time I pointed it straight down and snapped.
The stage was well lit, but we forgot to account for the several dozen or more feet of pitch blackness between where we were and the bright lights of the stage. *FLASH!* went the camera, and we found ourselves blinded for what felt like forever. We were a little panicked, certain everyone had seen that flash of light and that we would get in sooooooooooo much trouble at the end of the show. Thankfully (and quite logically, thinking back on it now) we found out later that no one saw a thing. Which is really great considering I was so surprised by the flash that I nearly dropped the camera. That might have been . . . well . . . maybe . . . slightly noticeable. You know, this sudden, random object plummeting from nowhere and shattering on the stage. Or potentially killing somebody as it hit their head. We were melodramatic in envisioning what might have almost possibly happened.
But the show went on and sadly ended just a little later. It's always a little heartbreaking to have a show end . . . they're SO much fun while they last. (side note: the Old Barn community theatre is doing Into the Woods this summer . . . and I found out about auditions this week . . . the day AFTER they took place. GAH!!!) For curtain call we used up the extra confetti we had - and there was a lot more than we'd been expecting because while we had decided to save some specifically for the closing curtain, we hadn't exactly used it sparingly during the other performances. But there was tons left over. So much so that while we started with a small trickle of glitter and as more and more people took their bows we shook it out faster, and by the time the cast got to the end of the whole bowing thing they told us later that they couldn't even see the audience the confetti was so thick. That was kind of awesome.
Life went on, a little bit empty for a while as we all looked for things to fill the time that Joseph had been taking up. Kim got the pictures back, and in one you could kind-of-sort-of-almost make out a couple of rear ends. Vaguely. A little. To this day "grovel, grovel *FLASH*" is a joke we'll occasionally bring up to each other. Good times. I'm one of the lucky ones in the fact that high school was mostly a good time for me, mostly pleasant memories. Talk about living those songs again - I'd go back for a few weeks to live this show again. It was pretty awesome.
P. ost S. cript
In honor of two years ago yesterday, when I had Luke convinced for about 15 minutes that not only was he giving a speech at our reception, but that he had already agreed to do it and had apparently forgotten, behold: something that made us both laugh yesterday.
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