Sigh of relief

For all intents and purposes, the moving is done.

Well, I said that. I just got an "upset" voice mail from the realtor. We need to clean up the back yard. Which we knew. It was dark outside last night. And she is bringing over cleaners to clean the inside. Which I don't really get. It is way cleaner than the house she sold us. WAY cleaner. We wiped everything down (oh... forgot to clean the toilets again-- we haven't been living there. And I bet I forgot to wipe down the sinks again. Ahhh. People kept using them!) I will grant that I didn't scrub everything, but it is cleaner than any house I have ever moved into.

And, of course, I have never mastered being a clean freak.

I have a headache. Of course, in all fairness, the headache began last night and hasn't really let up yet.

Updating (for Monda)

So yesterday morning, I was in the bathroom. The toilet was not flushing just right. So I flushed again. And it started filling up closer to the rim. So I ask if anyone has seen the plunger, in our new house that we are not totally moved into. Olivia, who is six, found me the plunger. So I plunge. And plunge. And it started going down a bit... Aha! I thought I had solved it. So I flushed. And the toilet began overflowing, all over the bathroom floor. So I am standing there, in my underwear (because I don't want to get it on my clothes), trying to clean up the mess ('cause you don't want that in your woodwork). And I swear, I felt like I was up to my ankles in sewage (it could not have been that high, realistically, but I am talking about felt truth here...).

And then it was time to go to get my daughter to marching band practice. But, after I go clean up (in cold water, because the hot water is not yet on). So I clean up in cold water and then start trying to get my daughter out the door.

But of course, she is not dressed. And she cannot find clothes. And she is a nervous wreck, because she can't find the clothes that she wants to wear. And when she gets nervous, she gets physically ill.

So she stayed home.

So then, I call my realtor. Crying.

And she calls the owner (because we haven't yet closed. ADDI inspection. Long story), since we are doing early occupancy. And the owner, riding his shining white horse, agrees to fix the sewage (although he questions whether or not the line was really clogged-- men never believe that I know anything about plumbing). I do go pick up Mea, because everyone is uncomfortable with my teenage daughter being home with men coming in and out of the house. So I go pick up Mea, and we go to Stobys. Because god knows that after a morning like that, we need comfort food (pancakes).

And they found the shop towel that the boy-renters had flushed down the toilet. And then, the owner cleaned up the mess in the bathroom.

And then the other owner (the wife) rode in on her own white horse. She knows someone at the gas company, so they come in days before the "first available appointment" and turned on our natural gas (and thus our hot water).

So last night I took a hot shower. And that made me so happy.

Fresh pain

So Todd has decided that everything inside the house is mine to finish packing and moving. He really is being a baby about this, and is making me crazy.

And gas? Friday. No hot water until Friday.

And the plumbing has problems. How on earth did the home inspector that we hired not bother to flush the toilets??? The house has a home warranty, which is great. Except the owners did not choose coverage for themselves while the process was ongoing, so they aren't covered. And we aren't covered until we sign the paperwork. So our choices are to live with the problems or pay to fix what a home warranty will cover.

But the house itself really is great. If my husband and I don't divorce over this move, all will be worth it.

So, when things move, they move

Well, we move anyway. We are moving into our new house tomorrow. We can't paint, or rip up carpet or build walls. But we can move our stuff in.

And just for fun, AT&T is providing fresh hell. I can't get internet service until 8/30.

And I have class on Tuesday & Thursday. Those days are before the 30th.

So I guess I can have class here while we live in the other house.

Fun AND exciting.

I replaced my driver's license today. It disappeared last week when I got pulled over. Why did I get pulled over? As nearly as I can tell, because I pulled out in front of a cop. But the cops seemed to have been thinking that I was that I was drinking with my underage friend (Mea). They were being jerks, generally, and harassing us. But then they got another call. And I think they jacked my driver's license. It was going to have to be renewed in November anyway, and they went ahead and renewed it while they were replacing. So at least I don't have the trauma twice in three months.

Tomorrow, my dad and brother are coming to help us move. Not that we are actually packed, but we are moving the furniture anyway. Oh, and the house will not have water turned on until Monday. So, we will move all our stuff, and sleep here Sunday. And we will move our mattresses on Monday. Cable will be installed on Tuesday. Phones on Friday (along with Internet). Now all I have to take care of is natural gas. I think the hot water heater uses natural gas, which means it can't wait until winter.

Down to the wire

I think we have finished most of the work on the exterior. I still have a couple of things to (re)caulk and some paint to touch up. Oh and cleaning up the overspray from the painter.

Now I have to catch up on the laundry I have been neglecting since I got back from Virginia.

I bought a nifty new toy.




This is the size of a Gideon Bible and will hold 250GB of data. (And, yes, mine is cherry red.) It even has a case (purchased separately-- like Barbie accessories) that looks like a Bible case. My university-issued laptop has been making me crazy because it is full, full, full. (I am so tempted to move all my data off and wipe it and reinstall everything.) So, I am moving stuff off-- everything but what I am currently working on. And some music. Let's not go crazy here.


Monday I am orienting our new adjuncts. I have packets for them. I am a great believer in packets. They have all been given sample assignments and a model syllabus already. Now I just have to read what I put together so that I am prepared to talk about it. Tomorrow. On top of the touch-up painting, caulking, and cleaning.

No pressure, right?

A Porch

How can a front porch cause so many problems? We replaced the decking on the porch, because it was so ratty. Then the FHA inspector came and said that the paint had to go, because somewhere on there may be lead. So we have tried and tried to get the paint off. Now we have just taken the wood off. And have to do extreme cleanup.

It is hard to focus on the advantages of the new house at the moment.

Growing up in Cotton Country

New audio essay. It does run a bit over 15 minutes. It is kind of modeled on a "This American Life" format, shortened for a class assignment.

"Growing Up in Cotton Country"

Song List:
Intro: Dixie performed by Sealed and Delivered Signed
Act I: Cotton Eye Joe from the Alan Lomax Collection
Act II: Cotton Crop Blues performed by Cotton James
Act III: Dixie performed by Black Oak Arkansas

So, Facebook has a purpose

So, I discovered some of my old college friends on Facebook. Who knew? I paged through a huge list of people who graduated from SMSU the year I should have, and I knew a few of them. So I have happily spent the day in the past, remembering.

That is the good news. The bad news is that a truck ran into an electrical pole a few streets over on Saturday, and evidently sent an electrical surge to my poor computer. I had to get the power supply replaced in my desktop (the computer with hard drive space-- my laptop is full, full, full). And I had to replace my battery backup surge protector. This time I bought APC. So I hook everything back up with the new surge protector.

Then I tried to turn it on. An hour of gnashing of teeth later, I pulled out the video card, and lo and behold, it worked. I'll have to replace that at some point. But not today.

My new house

As decorated by my mother-in-law the previous owners. The rental company that managed it had pictures up on their website. It does not look nearly this nice now, the carpets are stained and the walls are really banged up. But it has enough bedrooms and two living spaces.

Staircase bookcase

So this is the house that we are buying. See that big peak over front door? I am thinking that could make a loft, for books. Or my sewing machine.

One of my professors had a party for the grad students. Her house was older, obviously, but had a really lovely cathedral ceiling and a loft library and a spiral staircase.

Anyway, remodeling plans are in the future. And first on my list may be the kitchen because it is tiny. Although book storage is an ongoing problem at my house...

But this might solve my problem. Look at all those books in that tiny otherwise-wasted space. I could so fill that up with books. Tonight, I mean. And it could lead up to the loft that I want to create. Although reading around about the process tells me that raising the ceilings might cost more than I want to spend (like $30-$40K).

Reckon I could build the staircase anyway? Maybe just to the attic. Hmmm.

George Carlin on Writing

George Carlin in an interview just a few days before he passed away.

Coming clean

I should come clean. The classes that I am taking this summer are fine. The professors have been very generous with the workload, and the subjects are really kind of interesting.

I am just so very tired of not being able to study what interests me.

American English was offered this summer, but not for us.

I keep hearing my classmates talk about the classes they have taken (such as a class on authorship!) that sound so interesting. And it is not as though I had chosen to take something else. I took what was offered.

Every single semester, I have taken what was offered. I made two choices in the entire program. Two. And one of those is going to cost me extra, since it is not required for graduation. But I need it on my transcript.

Oh, and I like my professors this summer. Shoot, I may ask one or both to be on my dissertation committee if something horrible, like a B, doesn't happen before the end of the semester.

A night of not-so-good food

We thought that we would try a new place. One we had never tried before. It has the all the outward signs of being pretty good, despite looking a bit like a dive. It was in Ghent, where the rent is high, the parking lot was not empty. People with accents were eating there. There was a lot of tobacco smoke, but they placed us in a non-smoking room. See why we thought it had potential? Oh, and it was cheap. It said it served Greek food. I like Greek food.

So, Leslie and I both ordered the lamb kabob. Leslie took about two bites and said it tasted funny. I gamely kept dipping mine in the yogurt sauce and kept eating. Was that a mistake.

Two tums, a dose of peptol, and a pepcid later, I am starting to feel vaguely human.

Vaguely.

Copyright, yet again

Here is a chart, explicitly explaining when items enter the public domain.

Which is to say, everything that I am interested in working with will be available sometime after I am dead.

The work that I would really like to do, work with the collected folktales of the Ozarks, I really can't, unless I track down a copyright holder. Because the people who were telling the stories are, of course, dead, so I can't track them down and ask them to tell me. And besides, the stories are copyrighted by someone else. Frustrating, frustrating.

Today, we played, until it started raining. We ate brunch at Freemason Abbey, which is just gorgeous. The food is exellent. The service was perfect. The prices were not bad at all, and certainly were not bad for the level of service that we recieved. We indulged a bit, and had cheesecake for dessert. But we split one piece three ways, so it was less of an indulgance that it could have been. Oh, and that cheesecake? Brought in from New York.

The pictures, from top to bottom: 1. Leslie and me, in Freemason Abbey. 2. My plate from brunch. (salmon cake, on a bed of greens) 3. Leslie, me, and Mimi. 4. One of the Norfolk dolphins, with Freemason Abbey reflected in the glass.


We walked through the historic area today, which was beautiful. Parts of the old part of town still have their brick streets. Even the warehouses are pretty.
Of course, then it started to rain. Second day in a row that it did that. Yesterday, we went out to the botanical gardens, but were rained out of there, too. But we consoled ourselves in McArthur Mall.

Good god. Copyright again

The copyright discussion is not any more entertaining today than it was last time (or the time before) or even MSTA back in 2000.

So, on to an update.

First of all, my house sold. We signed papers on Saturday. There are inspection hoops to jump through, but it should be a done deal. Less money than I hoped for, but enough to move on.

I survived my trip to Virginia. The weather was mostly cooperative; only a 30 minute delay.
Leslie picked me up at the airport, and warned me that the rooms were bare-- the three hots and a cot were reduced to a stripped bed. No microwave, no sheets, no mini-fridge, no towels--- not even pillows for gosh's sake.

So I went to Target and Walmart and bought linens and pillows. And Leslie bought a mini-fridge. We got the fridge back to the dorm, and it had a huge dent in the side. She wanted to take it back on Monday, but white trash that I am, I talked her into waiting until the last day. No point in overly complicating things.

Project Runway starts its new season tomorrow. And do we have a television? Only in the lounge. How badly do I want to torment those poor foreign nationals to try to watch it?

I'll probably just catch the re-runs. Although, one of the designers is from Mabelvale. Mabelvale! How does a designer live in Mabelvale, Arkansas?

My classes are blah. They are not classes that I wanted to take. But they fulfill my residency requirement.

Back to class, I suppose.

What I have been reading...

Besides the textbooks, I mean. I have been reading Generation Y'all, written by the daughter of one my co-workers (one I like and visit with periodically). Like me, Emily had her first baby obscenely young. While I was married, instead of single, a lot of what she writes about seems really, really familiar. Mea was born when I was 21 & W was born when I was 23. I drug the kids across campus many days when I could not get a sitter & was too poor for daycare. The lack of stroller accessibility on campus does not appear to have changed. I am living, breathing proof that it is do-able to finish college with babies. Do-albe, but not easy.

Let's do the time warp again...

So I haven't written in what? Nearly a month? I guess it is really just a couple of weeks. I have started back to school-- headed off to PhD camp next week. Two weeks in Virginia, sans kids, so maybe I can catch up. Maybe I can even get ahead?

I am only a week in, and am so sick of my classes I could die. Truthfully, the main problem is the lack of relevance. One class is a reprise of what I took in the spring. While interesting, it does not really add anything to what I did then. The other will probably help with a grant I want help write for our writing center. Regardless, I had rather take something that will count toward graduation. Which neither of them do. I have already taken all my electives. So, all this summer does is let me fulfill my "on campus" requirement.

Okay, enough ranting.

My house is nearly done. I should post pictures.
It looks darling and we have two "second-lookers" scheduled this evening. I hope one of them makes an offer. I am so tired of picking up my house. I have threatened my children that if they use "real" cups instead of disposable ones, I will maim them. I am so tired of chasing after them to put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. And yes, I do know that by doing that I am depriving them of learning to do it themselves. But I also know that shrieking like a banshee when potential buyers are driving up is not a way to sell a house, even though the children may learn a great lesson from it.

Todd and the kids went with dad to the Buffalo today. (We drove up to mom and dad's yesterday). They are out of the house and so it is peaceful.

In my old age (and having spent too much time painting lately), I have turned into a Muppephone. The "ow!" sound that escapes my body when I stand up is involuntary and really should fit into a Marvin Suggs rendition of Lady of Spain. Of course, Statler and Waldorf would probably boo me off the stage.

So, more painting

Just finished up the master bath. I had it kind of botched, really, with two different shades of green and rough drywall. And the top two feet of the walls were siding that was peeling and not very nice. So I scraped peeling paint and textured the drywall. And filled rough spots. And primed, and painted.

I hurt.

And the ceiling is still peeling. We are just going to put up new bead board and be done with it. I cannot scrape and sand 100 square feet of ceiling. Just can't. I can already hardly breath from the sanding, etc. that we have already done. Mea has been a trooper, doing what work that she could and keeping me company when she couldn't.

The color is an awful pale apricot. It looks so... boring. But it is done. And it looks more "finished" than it did before. There is some fiddly bits around the shower to sort out, probably with caulk. I sort out a lot of things with caulk.

My closet is located inside my bathroom-- not the best plan, but it is an old house. Much of it does not appear to be planned. Anyway, now all the stuff that I pulled out on Tuesday has to go back in. And the house needs to be straighted up, because I have so not been picking up since I started on the latest round of paint. So there is laundry to be done and kid stuff to hide.

And a trip to the mother-in-law's to pack for.

Yes, gentle reader, my husband has scheduled a trip to see his mother. Neil Gaiman canceled his reading in Tulsa, so he figured that it couldn't get much worse, so we are packing up the minivan with all three kids and my husband's breathing machine and heading to southeast Missouri in the heat of the summer.

And tomorrow, I must finish the tile in the other bathroom. Todd finally put the cement board around the window so I can (did I mention that I started this job in April?), so I need to get that done. Why the push to finish up all my home improvement projects? My classes start on Monday. Only six hours this summer (as opposed to nine last summer-- that was insane), but I am interested in neither, really. Oh, and I have an article to co-write in the next two weeks.

It is after midnight, so I suppose I should go to bed. So I guess I will.

My turn with the funeral post...

Today I went to Arvilla Smith's funeral. Arvilla and I were not that close, but she and my great-grandmother were. Arvilla came from a big family, and, as I understand it, kind of got lost in the crowd. My granny (the afore mentioned great-grandmother) was raising her grand daughter, Patsy, who was about the same age, and so Arvilla kind of adopted the family.

So Arvilla was always around. While she was not technically related, I saw her more often that I did many of her cousins (except Wardena's kids mentioned in the Pond story recently).

We went to my granny's on Sundays, after church and after lunch. About every month or two, Arvilla would be there. As far as I know, she never came empty handed. She was always bringing a pie, or flowers, or something. When granny got older and couldn't take care of herself, Arvilla got a job with the Area Agency on Aging so that she could come and get paid to take care of her. Arvilla is the only person I know that could bake an apple pie that tasted like my granny's. And I think granny had her bake the pies for us, really. She liked circus peanuts (which I still like stale, because that is how granny's always were, because she stored them on top of the refrigerator).

Eventually, Arvilla got a different job-- one that was full time with benefits. Which is a good thing, because, like everyone I love, she got cancer. She won a couple of rounds, but with cancer, you always lose the war. Cancer won June 15.

It is not that Arvilla and I were that close, really. I have only seen her a handful of times since my granny died. But I still loved her, if that makes any sense. When she came to my mamaw and papaw's house after my papaw died, we all cried together. She came to the house for my mamaw's funeral as well. She was part of the family. Any of us would have done anything for her.
And more than herself, personally, she is part of my childhood-- my life at "home." That life keeps slipping further and further away. I used to kid myself and say that I would move home, if I could get a job that paid anything, but Todd was actually offered a job there a couple of years back that he turned down. That is not who I am any more.

But it is hard watching that world evaporate. Arvilla's kids are not like her (and the one that is most like her lives in Greenbrier, not at home). My mom is not like her granny. And I am not really like either one. I wish I could capture that world, because there is no where like it. It was anachronism twenty years ago, so it would be even more so now.

But, oh, how I wish it weren't.