September 30, 2009
Ok, so my mom still loves me. The card showed up today. It was mailed on the 20th but to the wrong address which would explain why it took so long to get here. Canada Post isn't the greatest at mail redirection. Mom forgot that we had moved so she sent it to our old apartment. I called her tonight and let her know that it had showed up and to thank her. I confessed that I thought she'd forgotten my birthday and she actually laughed and said the joke was on me(?) She said that she had thought about putting some US dollars in the card so that I "could buy something nice to wear" while I was in Vegas, but she decided against it. So the cheque she included will do just fine.
The boyfriend and I are heading to Seattle this weekend. We'll stop at the Seattle Premium Outlet Mall where I will happily buy something to "wear in good health" with the money that mom sent.
We are also planning on going to Norm's for lunch. Norm's is the best restaurant in the Seattle area (Fremont actually), not because the food is so great but because they allow dogs. In the restaurant. At your table. It's so Parisian (the dogs being in the restaurant that is, not the restaurant, or the food, or the language, okay it's not Parisian at all). Everyone is so well behaved and the dogs tolerate people sitting at their tables so well. Our little dog Cass has always believed that she belongs at the table anyway, so she will sit there with a happy little smile on her face as if to say "Finally, now this is civilized".
I had a wee headache today as I had a few too many glasses of wine last night but today was tolerable and all my friends and loved ones either called or emailed. It's a great feeling to know you are loved and cared about. I have wonderful people in my life.
Also a happy surprise. I had ordered a great photo off of Gary Heller's Etsy site and it arrived today. I have hung it in my bathroom and it is absolutely perfect. Thanks so much Gary.
September 29, 2009
Tomorrow is my birthday and I think my mom is going to forget.
The reason I think this is because every year approximately two weeks before my BDay a card arrives in the mail with "Do Not Open Until September 30th" written on the back. Mom and I live 3,000 miles apart. She has no way of knowing if I tear open the card the moment it arrives (I do) or if I put it away and wait patiently until the day (I don't). She also always includes a cheque for a decent amount, to be spent as I please but "would I please consider buying some "decent" clothes". So when the card hadn't arrived by September 18th and the boyfriend and I were leaving for Vegas on the 21st I started to get a little apprehensive.
We returned from SinCity on September 25th. First thing I did was grab the mail and there was a card! From the boyfriend's mom. Very sweet, she remembered. But nothing from my mom. I called her to let her know that we had survived riding Harleys deep into the desert. I filled her in on our Vegas shenanigans. She filled me in on who was sick, who had died and the new 46" plasma TV she just bought to put in her 8X10 den. I asked if there was anything else new. She said nothing that she could think of. I told her that I didn't get shopping in Vegas. She said that was too bad as there are some good deals down there. I gave her every opportunity to say something about the card being in the mail. Nothing. I wrapped up the call saying that I'd talk to her soon and she said yup, talk in a couple of weeks!!! A couple of weeks? My birthday is tomorrow. Does this mean she's not going to call either?
Mom always remembers. She has these things marked on the calendar. She remembered the boyfriend's 40th birthday in August. His card arrived two weeks before with "Do Not Open Until August 22nd" written on the back (he didn't wait either). Inside was a nice cheque for him to buy whatever he wanted, and "to wear it in good health".
I received this sweet little email from my friend Gord today:
May God grant you many years to live, for sure he must be knowing, the earth has angels all too few and heaven is overflowing...
Have a great Birthday Tomorrow
Hmmm...not feeling so angelic at the moment.
September 28, 2009
Now I don't know who Rod Schmidt is (anyone shed any light on this?) but this quote sums up my own dryer experiences over the years, and continues to this day.
Let me backtrack a bit. The boyfriend and I moved into a new apartment a month ago. It's fantastic. Concrete 10 storey high rise, two suites per floor, allows pets, secure underground parking, two bedrooms (the master will easily take a king size bed and the 2nd bedroom, a queen), two bathrooms (I don't need to say a thing here, do I?), a balcony and a dishwasher. But the best, absolutely most incredible feature is the ensuite laundry. No more fumbling with bags of dirty clothes, detergent, change and keys only to find the one and only washer is in use and the one and only dryer has blown its fuse -- AGAIN! This was one of the reasons I wanted to move (and the fact that an electrician said our old building's wiring was so bad and such a fire hazard that it could combust at any moment and make the movie Backdraft look like a weenie roast).
I was also tired of strangers touching my unmentionables -- taking them out of the washer and throwing them on the dryer, or taking them out of the dryer and throwing them on the "laundry" table. I was very good about paying attention to the time, so it's not like I was leaving my things in the machines for hours -- 37 minutes per wash, 55 minutes per dry. But it would never fail, I would get to the laundry room just as the dryer should be shutting off only to discover my things scattered about willy-nilly. And once I had everything matched and neatly folded there was always one sock -- ONE SOCK!!! that was MIA. I would sometimes even check the invading laundry to see if my sock was stepping out on me with someone elses unmentionables. But no. It was gone. How is it possible?
I believe there is some worm hole in shared laundry rooms that socks disappear into. This has been confirmed by single socks popping up in random places around the building. On the bannister leading to the third floor, on the floor by the basement door, on the battered credenza in the front lobby. And these socks were never claimed by anyone (they are still there for all I know) which leads me to believe they didn't belong to anyone in our building but had popped out of the sock worm hole from another dimension. I'm sure Dr. Hawking has written about this phenomenon in "A Brief (and Sock) History of Time".
So it would make sense that ensuite laundry would ensure the boyfriend and I were the only ones fondling our flannels thus eliminating the whole sock vortex thing. But I have been foiled again. I have done laundry four times since moving in and I have lost two socks. At least I have a pair again.
I think this is what happens to my missing socks -- masticated into adorable lint creatures.
(thanks to Ikyotachan on flickr)
ps - things are pretty much back to normal so I'll fill you all in on the boyfriend's 40th birthday and our trip to Vegas ... oh, and pics of my beautiful new home