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It has been incredibly, almost unbearably, hot around here for what seems like forever (though it has only been a couple of weeks). I have to say that I am much less troubled by this than most--my friend KD calls me her desert flower--but phew, the heat, it can be draining. First off, one of the primary ways I keep my non-airconditioned apartment cool is by not doing anything inside that generates heat, and suck the cooler overnight air through with a powerful fan. I've successfully kept the in-apartment highs around 75 degrees. However, I have been scared to do things like run super hot water in which to clense my dishes, actually cook food, shower regularly at home (that's what my Y membership is for, right?), or do much of anything besides sit still in the cool-ish air. Relatedly, my Maggie sweater is almost done (sleeves and seaming to go). But back to the weather report. That's what you're here for, right? Ha. Anyway, it's been hot as hades, but bearable. Tonight, however, starts a forecasted trend of not cooling down overnight--which means I can't cool the house off overnight. Which means I'm probably screwed.
Also, as I was pulling out of the driveway this morning I had a brilliant brainstorm. I have been feeling poorly for having no personal outdoor space. There is no reason, however, why I can't turn my carport into my own private patio. All I need are some plants (annuals on sale at Edwards, I noted when I peddled past the sign the other day) and a big bamboo curtain to hide myself from the street. And a pillow for my plastic lounger. And a scrap of carpet. And, you know, for the heat to break.
So I missed something somewhere, or maybe it was my landlord. Anyway, the deal is this: nearly a month ago the water heater in the apartment upstairs sprung a leak into my apartment. Most of the water ran into my bathroom. The clean-up crew ripped up the linolium floor and cut huge holes in the drywall to get it dry before mold started forming. This is all good, right? I thought it was GREAT, especially since the landlord decided to replace the crappy, stained linolium in the bathroom with actual, for-reals tile. Score!
Then last night as I was arriving home from work, my landlady and inoffensive but unfriendly neighbor were chattily unloading stacks of tile and grout mix from the back of her Volvo and piling them in front of my door. They seemed shocked to see me, but did scooch a pile over so the door would open. Thanks. Then the following conversation occurred:
Inoffensive but Unfriendly Neighbor [in far too chipper a tone]: Hey! How's it going?!?
Me [confusedly, as he scampers away, not paying attention to my reply]: Fine. You?
Landlady: Oh, hi Amy. I didn't expect you to be here. [at 5:30ish on a workday?]
Me: Yep, just getting home from work.
Landlady: Well, great, I forgot to call you! Steve will be here tomorrow about 8:30.
Me: Super. I'm guessing Steve is the tile dude?
Landlady: Oh, yes. Sorry. Anyway, he'll be here about 8:30 in the morning. That's okay right? [no pause for an answer] So make sure to have everything you'll need out of the bathroom!
Me: What?
Landlady: Well, the tile process takes three days. Tomorrow he will pull up the toilet and lay out the tile, and Friday he'll grout it. [I'm guessing the third day is to let the grout set, and hopefully replace the toilet. On the Saturday of a holiday weekend.]
Me: What? When you told me that the house would be torn up for three days for this process, you didn't mention that I wouldn't be able to live here during that time.
Landlady [baffled]: The apartment won't be unliveable, you just won't be able to go in the bathroom!
And here is where my head explodes. In a one bathroom apartment, what part of "can't walk on the bathroom floor to use the non-existant toilet" equals "livable"? For tonight I'm going to stay at my 'rents, but I am NOT impressed. Am I crazy for not understanding this situation? I mean, I did tell the landlady I'd rather have a tile floor than crappy linolium when she suggested the upgrade. But am I stupid for not realizing that in agreeing to this improvement, I was also agreeing to ostensibly move out for three days? Obviously, there was a communication breakdown somewhere, but seriously. Does she think I'm going to shit in a bucket?
Unrelatedly, OMG, I love McSweeney's.
I've been thinking recently about weblogs that I love, and more specifically why my weblog isn't as enjoyable as many of the others that I read.* The basic truth here is that I think I hold my potential readers at [something much longer than arm's] length. Part of the problem is that I don't like to let anyone too close to me. I've got my own stuff, you know? And while I can ramble on for hours and hours about knitting, celebrity gossip, various aspects of Playing Outside, puppies, and the tangled webs of my social groups, I'm not sure how to talk about the bigger stuff--the Stuff of Consequence. If blogging could actually be anonymous, maybe. But we all know that weblogs and real life are not mutually exclusive and writing something online can have pretty disasterous effects--especially since pretty much everyone in my life knows that I have a weblog, and most of my readers are offline friends as well.
"Quelle Surprise" is ostensibly an online diary, but one where I have limited myself to only talking about the most superficial goings-on in the world of me. Plus, you know, lots of knitting. In the past when I've touched on more intimate thoughts it has always been in a pretty vague way. I think the idea with that was "If you already know that Something Is Up, I am publicly acknowledging that. If you didn't already know that Something Is Up, I am telling you that there is stuff, but please don't ask." Of course, this is a dumb way to approach my personal life in my online diary. Those "in the know" misinterpret whatever I say, and the rest of the weblog-reading world just feels confused and left out. My solution has been to just not talk about personal stuff. But, yeah, can you say "boring"? I do. All the time. Right here!
So anyhoot, I am going to make more of an effort to make my online presence more truthful, more me. You may ask why. I mean, I could just decide to stick to the knitting talk, or give up the idea of a weblog altogether. However, I think if I could learn how to open up a little bit, I might be happier with myself. We've all got baggage, we've all got walls. But hello. I'm a single, thirty-two-year-old, renter. I can either keep closing doors, shutting myself away, and tying lots of little knots in string or, um, not. Trying to be a little more accessible? Scary, but probably a good idea.
Also, coming soon to a weblog near you (this one), I'm going to try to be better about actually replying to comments!
*see: Kristy, Laurie, and Heather for some very popular examples
Hey! So, I've been slogging. Have you noticed? Yeah, I have too. I've been working on a post to share some news. Not crazy-exiting news like Purl. I didn't write a book, or something exciting like that--but still, you'll have to wait.
Instead! My apartment! Was flooded! I don't currently have a psychotic landlord (meet: "I want to sell the house! I'm broke! Move out within two weeks!" or "human excrement in the crawlspace"). The upstairs neighbor (Drunk Girl) sprung a leak in her hot water heater--which was replaced within an hour of the problem being diagnosed. However, my apartment, which is downstairs from the leak, is currently filled with fans placed by the disaster recovery team hired to deal with the situation (decrease in month's rent not yet discussed). It is much to loud (and moist) to be currently INSIDE the apartment, so having spent the evening at a local drinking establishment, I am now perching on the stoop praising the gods of internet wireless (and, you know, my foresight). Also, I am glad of the renter's insurance (even though I'm not sure yet if anything needs to be claimed).
Even with this little "Can Insomiac Amy Sleep To The Sound Of Industrial Fans" interlude, life here is great. I am at the top of my universe. I lack for nothing, and the Grand Scheme is only getting better. Lace knitting has succumbed to my will, and that is, for reals, a metaphor.
*sorry for all the parethetical references and the commas. i might have had some beers (fan avoidance) this evening.
Random snippet overheard in the caf while settling in with an unhealthy sandwich and the People with Pax Jolie on the cover: "... And then you can get these stamps at the Post Office! ..."
I have a new love/hate relationship. The rowing machine at the YMCA is very satisfying in its ability to work the entire body at once and is located in front of a nice window. However, I do not appreciate the propensity for the seat to roll over ipod headphone cords--especially since those headphones tend to cease functioning on a fairly regular basis. I am sure that this is a problem with the manufacturing of headphones and not with the user of said headphones who maybe does things like run over them with the seat of the rowing machine at the YMCA. [Note to self--wear gym clothes with pockets.]
Due to the magnificence and wonderous link sharing of my darling Mammacita, I have a new internet crush. OMG! Kristy! I love the way she just walks with it.
I am disappointed in myself for enjoying the newish JT album. I mean, even though Dick in a Box is brilliant, his music career is just depressing--he is just a honky hip-hop wannabe. Still, my booty moves to SexyBack (insert funny joke here mentioning something like "it takes a honky to spot a honky", except, you know, funny).
Relatedly, it is too early to be posting on the internets.
The other night I was chatting with a friend of mine about dating and compromise and knitting and golf. We had perhaps ingested a couple beers before this conversation commenced, and we were making parallels all over the place that probably had no relationship with straight lines. After some discussion about balance (knit, purl, swing), he asked me a probing question. Was I really willing to compromise for a new relationship, or if someone didn't immediately seem right would I just write him off? If you knew me very well, it would be obvious that this was a perfectly fair question.
My answer? I am willing to make room for someone in my life if he is equally as willing to make room for me in his already full existence. That sounds like compromise to me.
Also, I discovered that knitting and golf have a lot in common. If you've ingested a couple of beers.
I feel like it is time for a new post, but I am full of irritation and spite--never a good time to talk to the internets. Plus, I don't think I've got enough yarn to finish the Pirate Queen's Booty Bag. Back soon when I'm in a better mood.
Do you ever do that thing where you replay things in your head and find yourself about to die of mortification for having said something incredibly, incredibly stupid? Yeah, I've been finding myself doing that a lot lately.
Over the last few years I've been making this funny joke about how I am working Step One--as in "Step One, Get Date". While the joke was definitely funnier the first thousand times I said it, I really think a series of steps is a good way to approach things. Have I ever mentioned how much I adore a good list? And steps are basically a list of instructions! Anyway, I've been thinking about this recently and decided that if I'm going to keep making my Step One joke, I should also maybe be putting it into practice--attempting to move on to Step Two. Grand plan there Amy, but what is Step Two? How many steps are there? What are you after here? After much thinking on the subject I have come up with Amy's Six Steps to Living Happily Ever After. In 1/2 as many steps as a recommended to give up an addiction, you too can fight over who's turn it is to take out the trash!
Step One: Get Date.
I'm really single, but I've been working this one for years. Misleadingly simple, while working this step you meet a possible object of your affection and plan a social outing. At the end of this outing, you may decide to schedule another outing, or you may realize you would rather gouge out your eyeball with a rusty fork than ever spend another second with this person. Unfortunately, the latter seems to be more common. Keep trying. Statistically, if you work Step One long enough, you've GOT to find someone worth taking to Step Two--at least this is what I keep telling myself. I've been single a long, long time.
Step Two: Get Boyfriend (or, I suppose, Girlfriend).
You've been out on a few dates and you haven't scared each other off with your loud chewing, horrible taste in footwear, coming on way too strong, or whatever other reasons people have for wanting to gouge out eyeballs with a rusty fork at the end of the first few dates. Now you have made it to the point where you are both thinking maybe you want to stop the Step One cycle and test the current of just one person. It's not super serious, but you are dating exclusively. I hope to get here again someday.
Step Three: Get Serious.
Here is where you do things like meet each other's families, start bandying about with the "L" word, and probably irritating your friends with your goo-goo eyes and dreamy smiles. Get a room, or ...
Step Four: Get a House.
You're serious about each other, you are in love, you still aren't sure that this is it forever, but you are spending all your time together anyway and somebody's apartment is sitting empty with some smelly leftovers in the fridge. Suck it up, merge those finances, and see if your shoe collection will fit in the same closet as his. Chances are high that this step will doom the project. You maybe on a superhighway back to Step One, but wouldn't you like to know about his inability to stick a dish in the dishwasher before you are legally bound together?
Step Five: Get a Ring.
Somebody proposes, somebody says yes, you both lose your minds (and your shirts) while trying to figure out how to get that carpet of yellow roses over the roof of the church.
Step Six: Get Married.
You made it, and you had a party to celebrate. Now get on with living happily ever after. Hopefully. It's hard work, they say, but so was all the rest of it. You've worked the steps. You're prepared.
There you have it. Anybody got any quirky, dorky, cute single friends of the male variety? Even though I made the list, I'm still stuck on Step One.
I will restate, for the record, that New Year's is my all time favorite holiday. I love the idea of fresh starts and new beginnings and change on the horizon and all that jazz. This year, however, I opted out of celebrating the whole thing. Saturday night I got together with a pack of old high school buddies and partied it up at the bar, leaving me in no shape to do the same the following evening (not that I really wanted that sort of entre in to 2007 anyway). I entered into 2007 in a manner befitting the old lady I am becoming--snug as a bug in my jammers asleep in bed. Bo-ring, but NICE.
Much like Laurie over at Crazy Aunt Purl, I like the year to have some sort of theme. The last year has been about retying the knots that hold me together. For 2007 I hope to keep those threads all looped into a cohesive fabric (can you tell I've still got knitting on the brain 24/7?), but not through the isolation I found so comforting in 2006. So here's a list of my 2007 goals, written in the irritatingly condescending first person to myself:
Ever since returning from my vacation, I have suffered a staggering number of sneezes while sitting at my desk. Just earlier this morning after a giant kershnoozle, the person talking on the phone to my coworker asked if there was a dog barking in the library. I don't feel poorly. This behavior has not been marked anywhere outside of the library. The nasal eruptions are non-productive yet horrifically noisy. My obvious conclusion? I am allergic to work!
I'm sure it has nothing to do with the big, dusty piles of Stuff To Do by which I am surrounded. Never!
The last few days have given me tons to think about.
First, the holiday knitting is coming along swimmingly, though about halfway through Project Number One I decided I wanted to alter the pattern a bit. I'm thinking of ripping out about 16 hours of work because I think I want to add a little cabling to something. I am insane. And probably won't make the edit, if only because of the time involved. And because I don't think my poor addled mind can do the advanced math necessary (and by "math" in this sense I mean "counting").
Also knitting related, my second-ever knit-picks order was shipped 10 days ago and still hasn't arrived. I am bothered, primarily because the first order showed up the day after it was shipped. Doesn't their stuff come from Vancouver? I could have driven there, picked it up, and driven home by now--of course, not for the approximately $3 I paid in shipping, but whatev. Cranky. (And by "cranky" in this sense I mean "I wish it would get here so I could touch it already, even though I will not be starting Project Number Two until I finish a few others").
Dontcha just love my parenthetical references? I'm cracking myself up. Moving on. Along with the knitting, I've been grappling with some geekery. I finally got all the aspects of the system upgrade rollin', however, I lost a huge portion of my database (dumb) and am so entranced by the possibilities that I'm spending precious knitting time clicking away on the keyboard. I would like to develop some real and true design skills (instead of just editing the work of others), so I am working on a new set of mt templates for a friend of mine. While I might not complete them until next year (calendar or rolling, I'm not sure yet)--I will triumph! And then not look at .css or scripts for another few months. My note to other mt users out there--3.3 is superfun!
The last little bit of strategery and brain energy is going towards this Grand Canyon trip I was supposed to be going on this coming Saturday. Then due to financial dumbness had to cancel. Now, mostly because I fear my father doesn't want to cook for himself, I have been offered a Work For Plane Tickets deal that is too good to pass up. But I already un-requested the time off, and getting ready for a trip is time consuming, and I have laundry and dogsitting and airport pickups and work and halloween parties and friend's birthdays and knitting/geekery to fill my time. When the boss gets back on Wednesday, I'll re-request the time.
If the point of this weblog is to fill the world in on the minutae of my everyday happenings, and I can't think of any other definition for what it describes, then I have done my duty. See you next time!
This morning I am full of nostalgia. Perhaps it is because the temperature this morning is below fifty, but this afternoon it will be up near ninety. In Boise, this spells FALL. Perhaps it is because the lipstick I grabbed this morning is a color I wore daily from 1990 to 1998, and haven't worn since (c'mon, it goes with my outfit and looks way better without black eyeliner used as lipliner!). The scent of it alone is reminding me of my pseudogoth years. Maybe it is because I am feeling worn down, worn out, tired. Though I have done a good job of self-preservation this summer, my work has been much more challenging and my summer social life still gangs up on me occassionally. Maybe my nostalgia is about remembering what can be so great about fall--snuggling in for the winter, lots of knitting, and time to take a nap.
Relatedly, I'm thinking of planning a solo vacation to somewhere with pools and fruity drinks. Or maybe the Oregon Coast--beaches and wind and clam chowder! Anyone have good tips for travelling alone? Is it hard to enjoy a good meal in a restaurant? Is it appropriate to bring a book?
Just in case you were wondering (and you probably were not), I have not yet broken the incredibly long fingernail on my left ring finger. It is so long that I am having a hard time typing the letter "s", so I'll henceforth avoid it a_ much a_ pocible. (Hee! See what I did there? Avoiding the "s" key? I'm cracking myself up.) However, I expect it to crack any day now, probably in a painful manner and the best approach would really be a pair of clippers. Can anyone deliver a pair of clippers to my office, stat?
I also had it on good authority while out for a stroll last night that even with all my bitching and moaning about my cell phone not working at my house since my move, it has not been clearly and plainly annouced that since I moved in June I have discovered that my cell phone doesn't work at my house. I do not currently pay for a landline as well as a cell phone (this seems silly as I am just the one person), and so this lack of cell phone working AT MY HOUSE has been a little inconvenient. Anyway, I would just like to state that if you have tried to reach me by telephone in the last 2.5 months and I have not answered the phone, answered the phone but hurried you off as quickly as possible with lots of traffic noise in the background (because I am standing in my front yard trying to get a signal), or answered the phone and repeatedly asked "Can you repeat that? My phone doesn't work in my house and you are cutting out", I would like to apologize. My cell phone doesn't work in my house. I am currently working on figuring out a proactive solution. It may include a new handset, or it may include the internets.
The last thing up this weekend is that I am getting pretty darn excited because my friends Zach and Corey are getting gaymarried tomorrow. You know what that means, right? The awesome little black cocktail dress I made for the lovely Sara will be making it's debut. Compliments accepted. No seriously, while I wasn't able to scrape together enough cash dollars (or time away from the neverending work) to attend the event myself I couldn't be happier for The Pants's if I tried. Yay gay marrying!
My friend Fern and I have recently been having some conversations about matching. The basic problem is that she undermatches while I horrifically overmatch. While both of us have truly been making a concerted effort, today we have reverted to form. Jennifern is sporting a lovely lavendar jacked with a black and white patterned skirt--perfectly appropriate work attire! Until you unbutton the jacket and reveal the hugely clashing multicolored blouse (which Fern has no intention of revealing) and the yellow and green flip-flops. This is nothing, however, when compared to the match-fest wrapped on my person today. It all started with a turquoise tee paired with some pink capris. Cute! Summer! 100+ degrees outside! Then I added the accessories. Pink pointy flats, turqoise earrings, pink necklace (beaded by the wyldeone!), and multiple turqoise and pink rings. Seriously, it's a human manifestation of the quellesurprise design scheme excecuted in vomit-inducing pastel glory. I need some help.
Hello, my name is Amy, and I'm a match-a-holic.
Early this morning I was having a very linear and (for a dream) sense-making dream. I was in San Francisco for a conference I was attending with my brother [read: nerdity afoot]. I was waiting at some sort of mass transit station (reminding me a great deal of Gare du Nord in Paris) for my brother to pick me up. He was running late, and I had forgotten my cell phone. But! In the station there were some internet dummy terminal kiosks. In my dream, remember, I navigated to tiara.org because I remembered seeing on Alice's start page a beta messenger service that would send a text message to anyone in your cell address book from any internet-connected location. Seriously, people, HANDY TECHNOLOGY when you forget your cellphone in a dream. (FYI, this site does not actually exist, but it SHOULD.) Anyway, my brother emailed me back saying he forgot to pick me up and I should take the bus. Unfortunately, this rad dream ended there because a garbage truck was emptying the dumpsters at the school across the street but I was convinced someone was trying to steal my car at 4:00 in the morning.
Needless to say, I am a bit sleepy today. Sleepy enough to make a very unfortunate footwear choice. Forever ago (16 months-ish) I had knee surgery. I have been slowly edging my way back into the world of heeled shoes, and when getting ready this morning The Most Comfortable Mules In The World (with a 2 inch heel) acutally felt pretty great. Three seconds after arriving at work, I discovered that this was a false impression, and also that the shoe placed on the foot of the good leg makes a very audible farting noise each time I step down. Today is going to be fun!
Welcome to the restart of my quelle surprise weblog. This spring has been all about new beginnings in nearly every part of my life, and giving a new life to my online presence seems like a good manifestation of that change. So here we go!
The thing I'm finding about new beginnings is that more than anything I am having these vivid memory flashes of what used to be, before it all went poo. I am remembering all sorts of moments from a time when I was enjoying my day to day life. Maybe that is because recently I'm getting some confidence back, some glow. Sitting at the laundrymat Sunday evening, reading a trashy novel at the end of a hot sunny day, I was temporarily struck by how fun it can be to sit outside reading a trashy novel at the end of a hot sunny day. Then I rememberd that laundrymats are from the devil and no one should ever have to wash clothes there ever. (Obviously, my thoughts on laundrymats don't really go with the lovey-dovey la la la of this entry. I will move on.) I also, for the first time in nearly a year and a half, have remembered why I enjoy outdoor activities. There is nothing like the feeling miles of dirt pass beneath some rugged sneakers and the hint of a sunburn on your shoulders and cheeks. It is like zen or something. Maybe my brain will start working properly, now that I can reset it's broken patterns during some lengthy walks. There is an old adage that goes something like life is what you make of it. Well, look out life, I'm making something new outta you.
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