Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Everyone, Meet Bob

I Am Posting Too Much Today

I just had to share.
 
I'm getting ready to eat the world's biggest sugar cookie, and it's super pretty.  It has little white sugars all over the top of it; they look like snow.
 
I'm celebrating since it's snowing.  (Or that's what I'm telling myself.)

Henry Remains An Illegal

After checking on the Dallas website, I have determined to keep my dog an illegal immigrant.
 
It would only cost $7 yearly to register him, but then we'd have to provide proof of vaccinations, etc.
 
I don't plan to keep up on his vaccionations.
 
There are tons of books and opinions out there, but I prefer the one that says yearly vaccinations harm your dog.  He's got his babydog shots, and that's all he's getting for the next 5-7 years.
 
So...Henry better not get loose because he's not going to be registered.
 
In other news, it's snowing down here and everyone's freaking out.  I just hope Henry can get out in it and chase it around...SINCE IT NEVER SNOWED WHEN WE LIVED IN IOWA!
 
(I'm not bitter about that either.)

Bob and I

I've decided that Bob and I can peacefully coexist.  (Bob being the name of my new hairchop.)
 
This morning I was able to get ready in 29 minutes flat, and I didn't even rush!  You have no idea how easy Bob complies with my hairdryer.  I barely had to use that evil round brush.
 
Sometime when I feel like I'll take a picture of Bob and post it here.  But today is not that day because I don't have the capabilities, nor am I in the "proper location" for such things.  (ahem)
 
Anyway, Bob is very functional.  I'm able to still do some stuff with it (him?), and so I'm no longer forlorn every time I look in the mirror.
 
So for those of you concerned, you can rest easy.  Bob and I have made our peace.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Henry, as it turns out, is an illegal immigrant.
 
Aparrently when one moves to Dallas, one is supposed to register one's dog.  The thought of registering Henry with the police, though, makes me feel like Henry's some sort of ex convict.
 
About the only thing Henry's ever done that's a convictable offense is chew on the rug by the front door.  And I decided not to call the 5-0.
 
It's a good thing, too.  Aparrently if your dog gets caught by animal control and isn't registered you have to pay a fine, plus pay "rent" for the time they stayed in lock-down.
 
We probably won't be letting Henry out of our sight. As we don't plan to register him with the authorities, it would be a real shame if he ran away, got caught by the pound, and then we had to post a $200 bail on him.
 
I tell you what, life with an illegal is really stressful.

Officially Homesick

Home was on NPR this morning.
 
I must admit that I am a 24-year old conservative who religiously listens to NPR.  That is not exactly their target demographic but since NPR was the only station that came in when we lived in Ankeny, we have gotten sort of addicted.
 
(In a yelling at the radio sort of way.)
 
I still listen to it down here just because the voices on Morning Edition and All Things Considered are familiar and, frankly, there's not a lot of familiarity down here.
 
THIS particular  morning, Joey and I had a lovely drive to DTS, I dropped him off and flipped on the radio.  The segment that was just beginning was on suburban poverty and guess what city they spotlighted?
 
DES MOINES!!
 
I almost cried.  (And I'm really not kidding; I did!)  I listened to people from Altoona and West Des Moines and Clive talk about the growing number of poor in their surburban enclaves. 
 
I heard a lady from Altoona talk about the commuter bus that runs from Altoona to Des Moines twice a day at 6 a.m. and I smiled as I remembered the Ankeny to Des Moines commuter bus that went every day at about 6:30.  We could see it from our balcony back home.
 
I heard the housing commisioner in Des Moines talk about the downtown homeless shelters, and I got nostalgic as I remembered walking to the library over lunch real quick with Jamie and Tiffany when I worked for Wells Fargo Financial.  We'd walk right past one of those shelters.
 
All in all, I am now sufficiently homesick, and just from getting a little flicker of home on NPR.  It's only 8:00; I'm in for a long day...
 
I'd better go make some coffee or something.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Haircut Gone Wrong

On Saturday, I went to Great Clips to get a haircut.  Being new to Dallas, I decided I didn't want to waste $30 to have someone chop my hair when I could do it for $15 elsewhere.
 
Perhaps that was my first mistake?
 
I walked in at 9:30 and was seated right away.  I hadn't yet washed my hair (as it was 9:30 on a Saturday morning) and felt bad for the lady, so I had her shampoo my hair.  (Second mistake--that cost $4 and I could have done it at home for free.  What was I thinking?!)
 
I then explained to the lady that I wanted it to be long in the front and short and stacked in the back.  She repeated the directions back to me but added "So, like a bob?" I said, "Kind of, only longer in the front and stacked in the back."  She smiled and nodded, and began cutting.
 
(That would be my third mistake.  I should have been more firm about the "long in the front" part.)
 
About five minutes into it, I realized we had a problem. She began cutting the front of my hair shorter than the back.  And, of course, you can't glue it back on once it's off.
 
So I sat there, quietly, and started to feel the knot forming in my stomach.
 
The lady raved and raved about how cute my hair was looking.  I kept my mouth shut.
 
I walked out of the salon with a bob. A short bob. It is not longer in the front, nor it is stacked in the back.
 
Joey keeps telling me that it will grow back.  Of course it will, I've done much worse to my hair, but that's not the point.  It was supposed to be CUTE!!  Not make me look even younger!  (Which it does.)
 
At any rate, I can still put the sides up so I'm not bald, it's just not at all what I wanted.
 
 
 

Hooray!

We are now receiving mail from the post office like any other average, normal American family.  (OK, "average" and "normal" may not be the perfect terms for us, but you know what I mean.)
 
A day or so after my post bemoning our forwarding address woes, we got our forwarding confirmation in the mail!
 
I screamed with glee.  (Joey probably would have too, but screaming with glee is rarely considered to be a manly trait.  So he left that to me.)
 
We're sending out "new address" cards as soon as I get the time to make them up! 
 
 

Saturday, January 27, 2007

To Be Fair...

Some of you (my grandfather included) want to know the crime stats for our current neighborhood.

Well, here they are. Oh, and the crime stats for our old neighborhood are worse than what I previously reported. When I got on the City of Dallas' page the numbers were, um, MUCH HIGHER than they were on the neighborhood improvement page.

CURRENT NEIGHBORHOOD
Murder - 2
Rape - 3
Robbery - 30
Assault - 11
Burglarly - 104
BMV - 169
Theft - 163
Auto Theft - 61
Grand Total - 543 times the cops came to our neighborhood in 2006

Friday, January 26, 2007

You know it's Friday when...

1.  You wake up before your alarm goes off (5:57 a.m.) and are actually excited to get the day started so that it can be over sooner.
2.  You are then tired for the rest of the day.
3.  You drink coffee (decaf) but by 12:15 p.m. you are considering the high octane stuff.
4.  You are having a bad hair day. 
5.  Minutes seem to go by slower than they do on, say Tuesday or Wednesday
6.  You are already planning what time to go to bed tonight and get up on Saturday so that you can get the most accomplished possible with the greatest amount of sleep.
7.  You are starvin' marvin' and keep going to the kitchen for snacks, goodies, sandwiches, or other items.  (Coffee not included)
 
I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE WEEKEND!!!

HOORAY!

No more ghetto-partment!!  Joey turned in the keys and officially checked us out at 8:40 this morning.  We are absolutely elated to be done with that place!
 
They said they wouldn't even charge us the $50 carpet cleaning fee!  (As if it would do any good...the carpet is so stained!)
 
We're one-house wonders now.  :)

(Not) Lying With Statistics

On Wednesday, I decided that since we no longer lived at the ghetto-partment, it was safe for me to look at the crime statistics on the neighborhood website. (I don't know why we didn't think of this before. But we didn't, being from Iowa and all...)

I was QUITE astounded. Allow me to give you a sampling for your reading horrification. These have all occurred from January 2006 to October 2006:

Murder - 3
Rape - 15
Robbery - 192
Aggravated Assault - 165
Burglaries - 337
BMV (whatever that is) - 539
Theft - 562
UUMV (again, whatever that means) - 276

This comes to a grand total of 2,089 times the police were called to our neighborhood. (I WAS hearing them all the time!)

We thought that was pretty bad until Joey figured out that the neighborhood was a total of ONLY 2 square miles. That means the cops were getting called every four hours to an area roughly the size of a Wal-mart parking lot. (OK, slightly bigger...)

We're way, way glad that we moved. Way.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

My Thought Process

On the way home from work/school today, Joey decided he felt like he was going to puke. Immediately I grew cold, clammy, nervous, and started driving faster. If there's one thing I really can't handle, it's people barfing.

Joey has had the flu, like, THREE TIMES since we got married. Bad news bears.

I started planning escape routes for myself if Joey were to throw up all over the car, or if he were to suddenly cry out, "I'M GONNA BLOW!!!" what I would do. (Sorry, that was kinda crude.)

My favorite option was for him to wait until we pulled into the driveway, then open the door and take care of his business. However, if he were to do that, I certainly would never be able to park in that spot, or the spot next to it, again, lest I get contaminated by or see the vestiges of his, um, barf.

Somehow, after I thought that I was immediately reminded of the time that, when I was 10 or 11, Pops ran over our first kitten, Sugar. (She was white and the name Snowball was already taken, since that was her mom's name.)

Pops drove a white Buick Century with red, velvety interior. (One of those bad boys now retails for about $2,000. I know because I just googled it trying to find a picture. No luck on the picture.) He was backing out of the garage on the way to work one morning when...crunch, there went Sugar.

We kids pretty much cried for an hour, then Pops and Mom took us to Pizza Hut. (Quite rare when we were kids.) I refused to go in the garage (I might see where Sugar died!) and I also refused to ride in the White Car, as we called it, for at least a week.

I recovered, though.

I assume I'd also recover if Joey threw up all over something important like, say, the carpet or the bedspread. But that doesn't mean I'd be happy about it.

It's 6:30 and I think he fell asleep. I'd better go wake him up.

I'm Getting a Haircut

Sorry but it's time to cut my hair.  Not just trim, but Majorly Cut. 
 
(Jamie, I'm not going to cut it short like I did before we went to China.  Something much more sane.  After all, I did promise not to hack it again...)
My hair and I generally have a love-hate relationship.  Love in the sense that I'd look funny without hair, and hate in the sense that it never does what it's supposed to.
 
Especially the left side.
 
Yesterday, while attempting to put my hair in a ponytail before we went to clean the ghetto-partment, I accidentally found a hairstyle that might solve my current Left Side Problem, while still not making me look bald.
 
So...I'm keeping my fingers crossed.  Let's all hope this works.  I can't handle my hair anymore, so I'm thinking Great Clips on Saturday morning.
 
I'd do it tonight, but I have a Bible study. And Friday, I figure they'll be busy.  And besides, I'm watching a movie then.  (Assuming Joey's done with his stupid paper.  From LAST SEMESTER.  It was due on Monday; as in four days ago.)
 
Well, me and my bad hair are going to go eat lunch now.
When we moved from Iowa, we forwarded our mail to the ghetto-partment.  It worked like a charm, too!  We were receiving our little Christmas letters and whatnot with the yellow forwarding address stuck to the bottom.
 
And then we moved again.
 
Since that time, our forwarding address has been a disaster.  May I repeat:  A DISASTER!
 
I had set up to forward the mail a the days after we moved out of the ghetto-partment, but wasn't really worried about whether it worked or not since, technically, we occupy it until this coming Saturday.
 
We moved into our new apartment and began waiting to receive the little forwarding notice from the post office.
 
It never came.
 
Then, suddenly, Joey realized that he'd given me the incorrect address.  In a flurry of activity, we got another mail forwarding slip, filled it out with the corrections highlighted, and dropped it in the mail.
 
All was well until I got home two evenings ago.  I parked in my spot and just sat in the car for a moment.  I glanced at the apartment building and noticed the number--it was NOT the same number we had just given to the post office as our forwarding address.  Not the same at all.
 
I grabbed my cell phone.
 
"Joey, the building number is wrong."
 
"What?!"
 
"It must have been right before, because now it's wrong.  The number on the building says ----."
 
He must have wilted.  "But...but..."
 
"Yeah, well, it's wrong.  We're going to have to change it with the post office again."
 
Joey went the next day and corrected our corrected forwarding address.  He wrote "FINAL CORRECTION" in real big letters at the top, and highlighted it.  The post office is going to hate us.  They're probably burning all our letters just to spite us; we still haven't gotten the forwarding confirmation slip!
 
NOBODY SEND US MAIL WITHOUT CALLING FIRST!!!
 
Honestly, though, can you forward mail from Iowa to Texas, to another Texas apartment, to a wrong address, to a wrong address, to the correct address?
 
Because that's what we're trying to do.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

"Mom, why does the freezer smell like Windex?"

Joey and I ran over to the ghetto-partment tonight to clean it before we turn in our keys (glory, hallelujah!). We got there at about 7:30 (a half hour later than I originally planned, but it's good for the Type A side of me to get Type B'd) and began to "clean" with a vengance.

When we moved in last month, there were tacks painted into the carpet (we found them by stepping on them. OW!!), strange creepies things in the refrigerator, dust on every surface (particularly in the bathrooms), and crumbs in the cupboards.

Needless to say, I wasn't holding myself up to any high standard as we "cleaned" tonight. I brought along Windex, Pine-Sol and Clorox Clean-Up, a roll of paper towels, and a bunch of trash bags.

We were ready to roll.

I started in the kitchen and Joey went to the back room to clean up newspaper and tape from the painting we'd done last night. I was spraying absolutely everything down with Windex. The Clorox Clean-Up was in the other room and I didn't feel like going to get it. As long as it looked clean, it was.

I knew I'd gone a little bit too far when I opened up the freezer and started spraying Windex. It froze immediately, of course. So I threw a bunch of hot water in the freezer, wiped it out, and didn't miss a beat.

I also sprayed the refrigerator out with Windex.

An hour (and lots of Windex) later, we were finished. We took out the trash, got really creeped out by some big, tall scary guy on the way back to the car, and crossed over to the safe side of the highway.

I need a brownie. With cream cheese frosting.

Country Bumpkin Strikes Again

I was making my morning breakfast (but I was not at home), when a very kind gentleman came to introduce himself to me. As I am new, few people actually know who I am.
 
He, it turned out, has been here for about a year and enjoys it very much.  We visited for about five minutes before I decided to stir my egg that I'd been making in the microwave.
 
My fork caught the side of the paper bowl and, before I had a chance to blink, egg particles sprayed all over the kitchen.
 
Mostly landing on this nice, new gentleman who I had JUST met.
 
I wanted to die.
 
I apologized all over the place, but he was very nice.  The poor guy left the egg on his pants until I turned around to leave. I suppose he didn't want to humiliate me further?
 
Anyway, I come across like I was born to be on a farm in the middle of nowhere.  I'd probably fit in better.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Update

For the two of you who were possibly concerned, my shoulder is much better.  I took a ton of ibuprofen and now it barely hurts at all.
 
I was considering milking it for all it was worth, but tonight we have to paint GA (shorthand for Ghetto Apartment), and then I need to "clean" it, too.
 
Anyway, I'm mostly better.  YAY!

Adjustment

Last night I gave Henry an 8:00 p.m. snack while I was making brownies.  (No, I did not give him any brownies.  I gave him a little bit of milk.)  He loves milk and hasn't gotten any since we moved from Iowa.
 
When it was time for bed, we felt sorry for Henry having to be in his kennel so much, and decided to let him sleep on the floor in our room.  He had been doing that up in Iowa, so we figured that he might be ready to try it down in Texas.
 
That was our first mistake.
 
He snored quite a bit until Joey poked him, but then he was quiet until 2:15 a.m. when he began to whine.  Plaintively.  I thought he probably just wanted up into bed with mommy, so I ignored him.
 
Until I heard the sound of rushing water....
 
"NO!! HENRY NO!!"  I was awake and out of bed in a flash (but careful to not land in the wet spot), grabbed Henry and took him straight outside where he finished his business.
 
I stuck him in his kennel for safekeeping, and went back to bed.
 
At 3:30, I was again awoken by barking.  Loud barking.  Annoying barking.  Henry's barking.  I figured he was just upset with me for kenneling him, so I went, took him out, told him "NO, NO, Henry!", and put him back in his kennel.
 
He was silent as the grave.
 
My alarm is broken and didn't go off this morning, but Joey's did and so I got up at 6:15, already behind schedule.  I went out into the office area and immediately noticed that something smelled amiss.
 
Poor Henry had an accident in his kennel--probably from the milk I gave him.  Poor little chap's not used to milk anymore.
 
I'll spare you the gory details and just say that it was smelly, gross, and took a long time to clean up.  Then I realized that Henry needed to be cleaned up, so I threw him in the shower.  (Nicely, of course.)
 
We fed him a light breakfast, then rushed around trying to get ready, wash kennel bedding, fold the laundry, and dry the dog.  We were doing pretty good, too, all things considered.
 
Until...
 
At 7:10 a.m. Henry looked at us both, and pooed on the carpet.  (Poor guy, I guess he figured that his signals weren't working, so he wasn't going to use them!)  We have to leave at 7:15 in order for me to drop Joey off and be where I need to be by 7:45. 
 
I grabbed him again (gingerly) and took him outside.  He looked very penintent, poor guy.  I pumped some Immodium into him (not a lot, but enough to help him not be sick again today), Joey cleaned up the floor, and we put him back into his kennel.
 
Seriously, he never did this until we moved the second time.  I think it must be stress or something...but anyway, I totally dropped the ball on that one!  I will be running him outside from now on at the slightest hint of a whine or bark.
 
Moral of the story:  Don't ignore your dog.  Even when it's 3:00 a.m.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Truth Serum

Joey and I bought a bottle of Pain Reliever P.M. at Target last night. Since I wasn't really able to sleep well two nights ago, we figured this was a prudent move.

I took my two pills at 9:15 and flopped into bed with my ice pack and heating pack, planning to alternate them at 10 minute increments. I made it through two rotations. Just before 10:00, I could tell that my judgment and overall sanity were becoming greatly impaired.

"Joey? I need to go to sleep?"

Joey came in from working on his paper. He removed my heating pad and ice pack and told me to go to sleep.

I tried.

But then, the Pain Reliever P.M. began working as a sort of Truth Serum. I began confessing to things that I'd done as a child, strange quirks that he (fortunately) still hasn't found out about, and all sorts of other things.

"I used to pick my nose. And eat it."

"GROSS!!!" Joey hollered, and sat up quickly. "Don't tell me any more of that. You're gross."

"I didn't stop until I was in high school."

Joey made some more disgusted noises and tried to stop me from continuing, but the ball was already rolling too quickly.

"I remember doing it all the way up until my sophomore year."

He made some comments about how he'd married the most disgusting woman and how he'd probably never kiss me--ever again.

"I can't do it anymore, though. It's way disgusting."

"Good." He sounded relieved, as though I'd really been picking my nose and eating it for the last year and a half.

I, fortunately, drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter. I didn't even have time to confess the time that I--wait; I'm not tellin' you nothing!

Be careful of that Pain Reliever P.M. stuff. You never know what it's going to make you say...

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Curiosity Killed The Jenna

Ok, so I have to admit. I spy on my "readers".

I have this little hit counter at the bottom of my blog and, I'm proud to say, I'm over 2,000 looks in the last six months! (Go me!) Unfortunately, most of them are probably myself looking at my blog to see if anyone else has looked at it.

I'm kind of nerdy like that.

Anyway, my hit counter breaks down hits in different states, cities, and stuff. Occasionally all I get is a latitude and longitude, and that bothers me to no end. I'm the nosy, inquisitive type.

Somebody from the Wichita area looked at my blog FOUR TIMES today. Four!! Who are you, friend?! The only people I know of who live even remotely close to Wichita are Greg and Kelly and I have no idea how they'd find out about this blog.

Is it y'all?

So, I know there are other people out there who I don't know that pop by every week or so to catch up on my disasters. I want to know who you are so that we can be friends!

Send me an email, leave me a comment? I promise that I won't embarrass you in front of the six other people who actually read this blog. ;)

I'm going to go put heat on my pulled muscle now. All of you nice people leave me comments so that I can meet you!

In Which Jenna Is Rude (Joey thinks that I need to add "Beyond All Reason")

Joey and I woke up at 7:30 this morning, and my stupid shoulder STILL hurt. I was beginning to get grumpy. We decided to go to one of the urgent care clinics that opened at 8:00, so we got dressed, fed Henry, packed up and left.

We found it without a hitch. (We're starting to get good.)

We walked in and there were three people waiting already (it was 8:10 by this time), and the menu screen for Cars was looping over, and over, and over again. They'd forgotten to push play or something.

(That should have been my first clue that something was going to go wrong.)

I signed in and Joey and I sat down. After five or so minutes, the sleepy looking woman behind the counter called, "JENNA". Joey and I got up and went over.

I need to insert here that, even though I do have insurance coverage, I haven't received my cards. I attempted to get signed up last night at 1:00 a.m., but the company is only open from 8-6 on Monday-Friday. So that didn't work. But I had brought most of the paperwork, group number, and suchlike.

(An aside: Joey just came in and stole the LAST Schweppes Ginger Ale from me. I was drinking it. Jerk. And he was smiling as he did it, too. Oh good, he brought it back.)

Moving right along...

The unhappy lady behind the counter scrunched her face up at me and said, "I need your ID, driver's license, social security number, and insurance card."

(Isn't a driver's license an ID?)

I said, "Well, I just started a new job and I have insurance coverage, but I won't have the cards until next week. I have the group number and name and information, though."

She looked over the tops of her glasses at me. "I can't do anything without your insurance card unless you pay up front. It's $180 to see the doctor and you'd have to pay 80% of that."

I wilted. (On my left side; my right side won't wilt right now.) "You can't bill me and then I'd submit it to insurance?"

"No, you need pay now."

The oddest sensation came over me--I WAS GOING TO CRY!!

I decided I didn't want to talk to that grouchy lady anymore, especially if I was going to cry, so I stood there a moment longer and then, without a word, turned around and walked away.

I grabbed my purse (huffily) and marched out the door, leaving poor Joey standing there at the counter with the cranky lady. He sort of shrugged, turned and left too. (When I was sane again I felt really bad for leaving him hanging with Grouchface.)

Walking to the car I was on the verge of actual bawling (I rarely do that, though, and this didn't seem like a good enough excuse) but I managed to keep it back to just a few tears.

"IT HURTS!!!" I whined to Joey, and then proceeded to cry the entire way home.

It still hurts, but I took three ibuprofens. Joey called his mom, pops and uncle while I read pretty much the entire Healthwise handbook. We figure I probably pulled a muscle by my shoulder blade. (Although the part that hurts doesn't have much muscle on it. Wait. I don't have much muscle on me...)

And now we're going to church. I haven't brushed my hair, dryed it completely, or plan to curl it. I figure I'll just look like one of those celebrities that walks around with a birds nest for hair and everyone takes pictures of her and says she's super fashionable.

I think I may be having delusions of grandeur from all the pain.

Ow

My shoulder/ribcage has hurt for a week. And it's hurting worse tonight.

It is now 1:00 a.m. and I can't sleep because it hurts. I'm really starting to wonder if I didn't crack a rib when we moved, or from coughing, or running into a wall. (Sometimes I run into walls.)

It doesn't hurt TOO bad if I don't move my arms, which means I can type and only feel a dull ache, which is really no different than any other low-pain times.

I have been on the internet trying to decide whether to go to the ER (as it's 1:00 a.m. no doctors are open) or to wait it out until the morning. Oh wait, it's morning already.

And then you know I'll get there and they'll say "Huh? Nothing's wrong with you, hypochondriac..."

Except it hurts SO BAD!!!

Saturday, January 20, 2007

It's only a small electrical fire...

We had a painting semi-disaster today. The job that we figured would be done by 3 didn't wind up being finished until 5:00...and we have to go back later to hit it up with a second coat.

That's the back story.

I told Joey we absolutely had to leave by 5:00 because we had company coming at 6:30. An hour and a half was enough time for us to shower, finish dinner, set the table, and not be frantic.

We took our showers and were doing great on my schedule (I'm kind of a schedule nerd, poor Joey). I was drying my hair happily when I started noticing a really strange noise coming from the outlet.

Zap. Zappity zap zap. Ka-zap.

I thought it was my hairdryer (which distressed me since I've had this hair dryer for 7 faithful years and it has come with me to several countries), so I turned it off.

The zapping continued. I began to become concerned but, at the same time, was relieved that my hairdryer wouldn't have to be thrown into the Dumpster.

"Um, Joey?!" I squeaked. I was getting really nervous. The zapping was getting stronger. "The outlet is doing something really weird."

He came zipping into the room. After unplugging my hairdryer, turning off the light, and pushing the little red button on the outlet, he determined that the situation was beyond his capabilities.

That, and it was starting to smell like smoke.

He called the emergency maintenance service and told them what was going on. I (at the risk of offering too much information) rushed to find something to put on, lest the repair man come and find me in the Altogether.

Joey found the breaker box and turned off power to the bathroom, bedroom and our closet. This made the search for clothes much more difficult, but I was not dissuaded. (Although the outfit I came up with doesn't match as well as it could have under normal circumstances.)

I moved to the only mirror in the house that still had a light source (the study) and slapped on some makeup. Thirty minutes to company arriving.

The smoky, burning wire smell had sort of abated once Joey turned off the breaker, and I was quite relieved.

The repair man came and he and Joey went straight to the bathroom. The repair man was a very interesting sort; a very jolly chap who swore like it was his job and who loved dogs. (He cussed at least 3 times in the 10 minutes he was in our house.)

He determined that something important had melted in the switch, and he swapped it out. Twenty minutes to company.

He then played with Henry for another five minutes. Fifteen minutes to company.

The table wasn't set, the dishes weren't put away, the salad wasn't made, and the chicken wasn't in the oven. I was getting a little frantic.

I zipped into the bathroom and lit a candle to try to disguise the odd burnt wire smell, then ran back to the kitchen where I simultaneously finished the salad and set the table.

(I realized as Joey was down directing our guests in that I'd forgotten to put the knives and spoons on the table, so I fixed that real quick.)

All in all, I we had a lovely time with our company, small electrical fire aside.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Another Mistake

I had the yummiest burrito for lunch.
 
But I had them put on refried beans, and now I feel like a real idiot, not to mention a Bumpkin.  I could be in for a TERRIBLY long afternoon.
 
Why don't I just think a little bit more sometimes?!
Good morning. It's Friday.

I have heard three rounds of sirens thus far (and it's 7:15), so obviously people are already up and being bad and getting caught.

I love the big city.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Much, much easier

When we lived in the 'hood, our apartment complex had a fitness center. I was particularly excited about this because I'd gotten quite fat over the holidays. (Or at least I percevied that I had, and that's just about as bad as actually getting fat. You ladies will understand.)

I got up early one morning (7:30) and went down to try out the equipment.

Most of it was broken.

After several confused attempts, I got on the treadmill and tortured myself for 20 minutes. That was all I could handle, I despise treadmills. I always remember the hamster I had in high school, Delancey, and feel like a rodent. (Except Delancey was too fat to use his/her wheel. He/she just sat around, ate tons of hamster food and was grouchy.)

All the other exercise equipment they had, aside from the treadmill, was either broken or not plugged in. A waste of space, if you ask me.

At our NEW apartment there is also a fitness center. Since there are over 6,000 apartments in our new complex, the idea of going to a new fitness center alone on a day like today (it was a long one) scared me.

"Joey, I think I want to go try out the new fitness center here."

He had his face buried in the computer. "Ok, sure."

"No, I want you to come with me. I'm scared."

He looked up. "Ok, I'll go with you." (He's very agreeable.) He packed up his flashcards a book and the iPod, I changed my clothes, and we were off.

I was quite pleasantly surprised to see a zillion treadmills (fancy ones), ellipticals, steppers and every other imaginable piece of equipment in their fitness center. I parked it on an elliptical and spent 20 happy minutes trying to read Sense and Sensebility while bouncing around. It was not easy.

What WAS easy was the fact that the exercise machine actually worked. I feel like I got a workout, but not that I worked so hard that I have torn ligaments and tendons. (The way the broken stuff over in the 'hood could make you feel if you stayed on it for too long.)

Gosh I'm tired. This isn't making any sense. More to the point, I am cold, have a cold and am going to bed now. You should too.

I Was Sad

The saddest thing happened to me this morning.
 
Joey got my watch battery replaced yesterday (thanks, honey!!) so that I'd have something to wear to work.  It drives me nuts to not know what time it is.  I happily put it on this morning but never looked at it to make sure the time was correct. 
 
I was on time (still unable to park, but I got it resolved) and got started.  After a little while I looked down at my watch and thought "Woah!  9:00 already.  This is going really fast!"
 
When I finished what I was doing, I happily noted that it was 10:30.
 
I got a rude awakening a few minutes later, though, when I glanced at a clock and it said 9:45.
 
"WHAT?!"  I thought to myself.  I poked my watch several times.  It seemed to be working (and it should be after Joey paid $8 to get the battery replaced).
 
I came to the conclusion that the watch place had never reset the time!  To my great distress, I had to back up the minute hand a full forty-five minutes.
 
NOT my idea of a good time.


 

One More Thing

I remembered what the other thing that I did yesterday that was Country Bumpkin-like.
 
We have this automatic stapler and I, being knowledgeable about such things, thought I knew how it worked.  I held the paper, slid it in and--
 
BANG!
 
It sounded like a semi-automatic machine gun.  I jumped a mile.  And I shrieked.
 
To make matters worse, I'd pinched my finger when it came down.  (I didn't staple it, fortunately, if I had I'd probably have to be rushed to the ER.  That thing is powerful.)
 
Once I calmed down and noticed that only two or three people had seen/heard my shriek and subsequent finger-pinching in the stapler, I felt really, really stupid.
 
I used that stapler all morning and, while I didn't pinch my finger again, I did jump EVERY SINGLE TIME that it made it's BANG! sound. 

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

The Country Bumpkin

Since moving from Iowa three weeks ago, I have felt more like a country bumpkin than I ever have in my entire life. Put together.

Today was my First Day. (Since this is a pseudo-anonymous blog, I have to call it that. Or Grandpa gets mad and calls me and tells me I'll get arrested and/or fired.)

These are the things I did that made my Country Bumpkin status stick out:

1. I used my mostly empty water bottle to mix up my Emergen-C (I've had a cold since Saturday, when we moved in the rain) and when I went to chug it, there was too much suction and I caved in the water bottle (REALLY LOUDLY) in a quiet, sophisticated setting.

2. Since it's "snowy" and "icy" here, I made far too many comments about the road conditions. I'd look out the window down to the freeway and say something inane like, "Gosh, they're barely moving down there", and absolutely nobody would know what I was talking about.

Then I'd qualify it by mumbling, "Road conditions..." and then feel like some kind of farming nerd who is concerned about the roads.

3. In the bathroom there is a carafe full of mouthwash, and some little cups next to it. (Just like in fancy restaurants!) I was quite enamored by this, so I poured myself a little cup and swished.

Unfortunately, I poured WAY TOO MUCH so my mouth was super full and I looked like a chipmunk. Additionally, the mouthwash had a really strong antiseptic odor and so I felt like a walking hospital for about an hour.

4. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, mentioned several times that since I was from Iowa, this little bit of ice and snow was probably nothing. I sort of had to agree with them.

To make matters worse, when walking outside (for about 20 seconds) I walked too fast and wound up leaving everyone in the dust. They were picking their way across the "icy" bricks, trying not to slip. I felt like it looked like I was showing off in some way because I knew how to walk on ice. (Beat that?)

5. Then, when I was in the bathroom later (sorry if this is TMI for some of you), I noticed that there was a little switch by the door. Since I could think of only one thing to do, I pushed the switch.

The lights went out.

Now, the bathrooms in this place are European style, so they're each little closets with floor to ceiling doors.

It was VERY DARK in there.

I found the switch again (why one needs a lightswitch in a WC is beyond me).

6. This morning when I tried to park, my tag wouldn't work and I had to back up two times and try again. The lady at the parking gate was super annoyed with me, and I almost backed into a Mercedes-Benz and some huge SUV.

I am hoping my tags work tomorrow.

And so, gentle readers, this is why I believe that I am probably a country bumpkin. Maybe I'll grow out of it, maybe I won't. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see!

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Beware of the Salt

We had an ice storm here on Monday. When I say "ice storm", I mean that we got some ice. The roads are no longer icy, but there were enough accidents on the freeway system around here that you'd figure that we got an inch of ice with snow on top of it.

Oy vey.

Most of the flyovers, bridges and roads are fine now, particularly if they have had an entire beaches worth of sand dumped on them.

The stairs going up to our new apartment, however, are not.

Henry just about wipes out every time he bounds down them to go to the bathroom. (It's pretty hilarious to see his little paws scrambling to try to get some traction.) He has just about pulled me down with him a time or two, so I figured I'd better solve the problem of icy steps.

The only problem is, nobody sells salt down here.

I thought about it a little bit, and remembered that I had some cheap table salt stashed away in my laundry cabinet. (For the occasional dye job that I need to do on stained tableclothes, napkins, curtains, etc.)

Knowing that table salt can kill grass (and there's a very fancy patch of groundcover under our stairs), I put in a call to my Pops to see if he thought if it was a bad idea to sprinkle the salt on the stairs.

He didn't answer.

I couldn't call Joey because he was (and still is) in class.

In a rare moment of brilliance (?), I decided to just dump the salt on the stairs and, when the groundcover dies in a month or two, pretend I know nothing about it.

It took just a few moments to salt the stairs. Unfortunately, I ran out of salt before I reached the bottom two steps. (I figured that was better than the top two, because if I biff it on the bottom two I haven't got as far to fall.)

Twenty minutes later, I went outside to survey the damage--er, my "work". The ice had melted quite nicely, considering all I'd used was table salt, and the groundcover hadn't started dying yet. All things considered, I don't think that my new landlord is going to be too pleased with the Einstein from Iowa that lives in #297.

But at least I won't fall down the stairs now...

Monday, January 15, 2007

Drama

It's been awhile since I've posted. There are several reasons for my literary absence, but in order to properly explain myself, I must go back to Tuesday.

Joey and I were headed to Target to get something, probably groceries. I must preface this to say that we live in a pretty shady neighborhood. The longer we live here, the more shady we notice that it is...

We drove down Melody Lane towards Target and as we rounded the bend, we noticed 5 Dallas Constable cars (what's a Constable?!) and several Dallas Police cars blocking the road.

They were stopping everyone who entered and exited our street.

Joey and I glanced at each other. He began to roll the window down--all the way down. "No, no!" I hissed, "Never roll your window all the way down anymore!!" He rolled it back up until it was just open a crack.

The cop came over and asked for our license, insurance and registration. We provided them to him, he looked us over and leaned down into the window and said, "Do you guys live on this street?"

We nodded.

He sort of sighed, then leaned down to the window again. "Do me a favor and be careful, this isn't a good neighborhood."

Our hearts sank. We thanked him and then drove off.

Since then, we've been positively jumpy. I'd been jumpy before, always afraid that people would climb in our windows (there was a catwalk that went along the front windows, so it could totally have happened) or beat me down when I was taking Henry out for a walk.

After three tense days of fervent praying, we made an executive decision--WE WERE MOVING!!

Across the highway.

Friday morning I got up early and took Joey to class. Then I booked it over to the Village where I stopped in to see a friend who works as a leasing agent. The Village is a beautiful place--MUCH much safer than where we lived before, even though it's not too far away.

To make a long, long story very short, by 9:45 I had dropped off an application and by 2:30 we had been accepted as residents. Joey and I had signed papers by 4:45, we had the keys and began moving stuff in at 9:30 that evening.

On Saturday (a rainy, cold day) we moved all of our stuff with the help of Joey's two uncles and my grandparents. We had that completed by 3:00.

As you can see, it has been one thing after another since Tuesday, but more so since last Friday. We now live in a lovely 950 square foot one bedroom apartment (I know, it's HUGE), and it even has a fireplace!

Pictures are forthcoming.

Anyway, that's where I've been. And tomorrow I start my new job...

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Texas Is Expensive

Since arriving in Texas not two weeks ago, I have been noticing one common theme:

EXPENSIVE!!!

First there was the small matter of painting the apartment. Back in Iowa we had gotten the square footage for our Texas apartment, and bought the paint accordingly. Much to our dismay (?), when we got here and started painting, we discovered that our ceilings were too vaulted and, thus, took more paint than we had bought.

Joey had to go to The Home Despot three times.

Then I got a job interview at a great company. I wore my suit that we had purchased in China, and things went great. Then I got called for a second interview. Unfortunately, I'd already worn my suit and I was instruced to "Not relax for the second interview". So, Sunday was spent at the mall trying to find a suit that we could afford.

We found one, in the junior's department at Macy's. Seriously, high drama.

Today we needed to get Texas driver's licenses. This, it appears, is more trouble (and cost!) than it's worth.

First, we have to pay to get the vehicle inspected. Whose idea was that?!

Then we have to pay to get the vehicle registered, plus we have to pay $90 "new resident" tax. Nothing says "Welcome to Dallas" like $180 in taxes, I'm tellin' you what.

THEN (and only then) we can get our Texas driver's licenses. And, naturally, we have 30 days to do so. We've already used up 15 of those days and, Lord willing, I start a new job on Tuesday.

Texas is so expensive...

Friday, January 05, 2007

I GOT A NEW PHONE!!

After all the drama that my cell phone has undergone in the last week and a half, I decided it was time to try to get it fixed.

Or at least try.

I figured I could pull the "Damsel in Distress" card, if need be, but I was going to try to keep it on the up-and-up. I did, after all, send my phone through the washing machine. And lose it in a parking lot on an excessively rainy day.

After one call to Verizon, I received directions to the nearest Verizon Fix-It place. Armed with our Dallas map and one working cell phone in case we got lost, Joey and I were off. We found the store quite easily.

We walked in the door and I made a beeline for the manager. I explained that it had been lost in a parking lot (leaving out the details of the water) and he took my phone apart and started poking and prodding it.

Sure enough, the left side of the keypad didn't work. He made some "hmmmmmm"ing noises and pulled up our information.

"I see you've had this phone since December 9...." He said.

I thought that seemed too soon, but agreed with him. He had the information, after all. I sort of wilted at the thought of totaling out my phone in less than a month.

"Yeah, that's weird. It shouldn't be doing that. Let me get you a new one."

A NEW ONE?!

I stuttered a "Sure, fine, no problem" and followed him over to the technician. Joey and I exchanged googley-eyed, shocked glances.

Not 10 minutes later, we headed out of the Verizon store with a brand new cell phone. The ringer even works! And I would have told him about the water damage if he'd asked...

Thursday, January 04, 2007

A Tour of Our New Apartment

This is a tour of our new apartment. Enjoy, everyone! Oh, and those light switches are really, really high. Jenna doesn't like it at all.

Dande mas!

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I am so tired of being an unproductive member of society.

But--good news! I had a preliminary job interview today. The main one may be tomorrow, so that'll be good. I didn't even get us lost on the way to the interview.

Tomorrow may be another story, supposedly this company is downtown. Ugh. Downtown Dallas is the size of Ankeny. With a whole lot more traffic.

So I'm going to go find out where this company is now. I have to do it before Joey decides he's done online too and we go home to make dinner. Stir fry night...yummy.

Since I don't have a job yet, friends yet or, consequently, a life, there is nothing interesting to blog about.

Sorry.

If I drop my cell phone in any large quantities of water again I'll be sure to let everyone know.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

In my defense to Grandpa's Revisionist-Robin email (notice, it's still alliterated), I didn't actually LOSE my cell phone, it sort of lost me.

But I must digress.

Last week, in a series of very unfortunate events, I ran my cell phone through Grandma's washing machine. (I consider it very fortunate that Grandma used the unscented, dye-free detergent, the affect on my cell phone could have been considerably worse had there been more chemicals in the water.)

The boys were able to dissect my cell phone, let it dry for a day or so, and then reconstruct. The external speaker doesn't work so I can't use speakerphone or the ringer, but now I don't have to worry about my phone ringing in church.

On Friday last, the rainiest day that Dallas has seen in its recent history, Joey and I went to NorthPark mall. We realized we were tired about as soon as we walked in the door, so we ran back out into the rain to our car.

Aparrently I left my phone in the door of the car. Perhaps it fell out when I slammed the door. Perhaps it fell out of my sweater pocket. Perhaps The Cell Phone Grinch took it and flung it across the parking lot into the deepest puddle it could find.

At any rate, my brother Andrew (who is staying at my parent's house while they're in Mexico for the week) received a strange voicemail on my parent's answering machine. It was from a very nice lady in Plano who found my cell phone in the parking lot, clicked through the numbers until she found one that read "Dad and Mom", and then left them a message with her number.

Andrew, being the responsible younger brother that he is, called us with the number. We called the lady back and, within 24 hours, were on our way to Plano.

(I will not attempt to humiliate myself further by relating how hopelessly I got us lost on the way. Suffice it to say that we stopped somewhere in Plano at a Wal-Mart and got two Dallas maps. I need to be mare careful when I write down directions off Google Maps.)

Once reunited with my cell phone, I gleefully tried to check my voicemail. To my chagrin, Joey pointed out that Send, 1,4,7 and * no longer worked. (Pretty much all the buttons on the left.)

So now I am left with a phone that doesn't ring, doesn't dial, doesn't really answer very well, and essentially doesn't do much except sit there and look cool.

Nuts.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Happy New Year's Eve, Dallas Style

Since moving here on Wednesday, we have gotten sort of lost several times while driving (most of those have been my fault), been to Target about as many, and spent a considerable amount of time at the prestigious NorthPark mall (which we cannot afford to shop at). That mall is just about visible from our humble abode, and is quite safe to walk around in.

I cannot say as much for the street we now call home. Joey told me I'm not allowed to go walking on it because we haven't seen any other women out walking around alone. Or with men. (Or who were white.)

Our apartment complex is quite fine and, aside from being the minority, we like it just fine. (I have had two other unconfirmed "white people" sightings.) The little girls just adore Henry, and it's very quiet.

Except, of course, when your neighbor is cranking her(?) booty music at 10:30p.m. because of her New Year's party. That's the only time we've head anyone. And to solve that problem, we just cranked up our movie a little bit louder. (We were watching Sense and Sensebility, and our neighbor could have used some.)

We were also treated to a very interesting drama--something Quite Serious must have taken place at the apartment complex just over. There were at least 5 fire engines and about as many police cars with their lights flashing. It was some kind of fire because the fire hose was out and the street was all wet. We didn't smell any smoke, though. Just burnt plastic.

At midnight, I poked my head out the porch window and heard the lovely sound of every person in the vicinity who was driving laying on their car's horn and hollering. It was quite cacaphonic. Joey was in the back room and missed it, poor fellow.

Sleeping also came with difficulty because it seems to be some kind of rite of passage around here to shoot fire-crackers (at least we hope that's what they were) in rapid succession. For a long time. Very late into the night.

All this drama and Henry still had the energy to try to jump on me at 7:30 this morning! I'd better get off this before Joey gets mad at me for hogging the lappy. We're at Panera snitching off their free WiFi...