Comma Dot Comma

That’s me amid the flying sparks, grinding down rusty bolts on the pool deck. Dr. G did most of it, but it looked like fun and I wanted to get in on the action. We were on a tight deadline– a dispute with the decking contractor resulted in my saying, “Fine, we’ll just do it ourselves!” on the phone at 3 pm. But we had to get it finished before they showed up to re-deck at seven am the next day. Throw in work schedules and extra trips to Home Depot to get the right tool, and voila, you end up working in the dark with a bedside lamp on an extension cord. By the end we were working in relays to get it done before it got past the “don’t disturb the neighbors” hour.

Spent the weekend in Chicago for a wedding and mini-vacation. I’d only been there once before, when I missed a one-flight-a-day connection and had 24 hours to explore Chicago with impractical shoes and no coat or toothbrush. This time, the Windy City had done some kind of spa day/makeover/Tim Gunn thing in advance of my arrival. We had breezy shirt-sleeve weather all weekend, with the leaves going yellow and the buildings acting all glossy in the sun.

I saw a few people from college who have been MIA for eight or ten years, including the groom, who took the photos at our wedding back in the day. One of my key memories of him is,at his suggestion,picking pieces of hollow grass from the side of the road and smoking them in a reenactment of a childhood misconception. I mentioned this to him at the reception. One of his key memories is his walking into a sapling on the streets of Portland. I thought it might have been me who ran into the sapling. In any party of two or more, I’d vote myself most likely to smash into something.

Dr. G and I went on an architectural boat tour with another friend, with whom he use to have cutthroat Boggle battles. They seemed to be in a competition to run out the batteries in their digital cameras. Dr. G. won.

More college nostalgia at the Art Institute, where I saw up close and personal the actual paintings I used to tack up in my various dorm rooms and apartments as posters. My favorite was Old Guitarist. I like that guy. I used to hang it sideways so he looked less sad.

This week I’m back in my old DC haunts at a work conference. I went for a jog in Rock Creek Park the other morning, which I never actually did when I lived here. Wait, I did jog past the zoo once in awhile. I thought I’d be blogging OUT THE WAZOO but it turns out the internets don’t reach my hotel room so I just log on occasionally in the lobby. Yesterday I took two trains and a six-block walk to see a David Maisel photography exhibit in the National Academy of Sciences. they were having a meeting in the room where the exhibit was and would not let me in. I blame the Washington Post for luring me down there. C’mon– when I want to see mass environmental destruction, I want to see mass environmental destruction.

All the predictions were true. Our first weeks as homeowners have involved constant trips to the big box home improvement stores. The other night Dr. G pulled his favorite purchase from the Home Depot bag with a flourish: a black light. The bulb would only fit in a floor lamp, so we plugged the lamp into an extension cord and took it out back. Gary swept the house perimeter with the upside down lamp while I shadowed him, brandishing a 2″ x 4″. We were searching for scorpions, which conveniently flouresce under blacklight. We only found one, which I dispatched like the heartless scorpion killer I am. Just call me The Crusher.

Step One: Get two cell phones.
Step Two: Call one cell phone on the other cell phone.
Step Three: Answer.
Step Four: Hold both phones up to your ears.
Step Five: Try to sing, “Domo Arigato Mister Roboto” into the phones.

Oh, you’re confident now, but just you wait! That sound delay does a number on you!

Wow, that long weekend was wall to wall adventure. Starting Thursday evening, we had cleaning and painting and packing and more cleaning and painting followed by yet more cleaning. Coordinating two sets of contractors and two sets of delivery men. An efficient team of church folk and my coworker showed up to help move our ever-growing pile of… well, I want to say junk, yet if I truly considered it junk I would have gotten rid of it by now, wouldn’t I? People were glum about the many boxes of books and CDs. We may also be the only family in history to lug a giant box of rocks through three moves. It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t say “ROCKS” on the box. Afterward we were able to clear aside a wide enough living space to welcome some out-of-town friends for a few days, and we threw chores to the wind and had fun with them.

For me, the fun included registering a complaint at a fancy restaurant because the menu invited me to “TRUST” the chef and sommeliers. Inappropriate quotes! We also had a good time exploring the the junk/antique/sculpture shops in Cave Creek and came away with a nice 3-D wall hanging for above the fireplace, adroitly spotted by our always-in-good-taste friend Kat. I’ll post a picture of it sometime. We watched the sun set over yellow cliffs, got attacked by bees (well our friend John did), and experienced Big Lots for the first time. This store had reached legendary status in the minds of our British friends after another mutual American friend kept singing its praises. They were non-plussed. the sour gummy worms they got were not at all sour.

So here we are at Tuesday and only about 20% of the boxes are unpacked and I have no idea where my makeup might be,nor the dishwasher detergent, nor the bandaids.

Our landlord dropped by to give us our security deposit back and to give us a parting gift– a large matted and framed photo of the sunset view off of our old balcony. She took it herself and it’s beautiful.

Now is that the best landlord ever, or what?