On the move with my books

Today I will be signing a new lease for my new apartment. Unit number 14. After Sunday's final move, I will have to climb a flight of stairs in order to enter my home. This is a development that Alex is very excited about. She has always been a big fan of stairs and the number 4.

While I don't want the headache of moving, I am looking forward to having a washer and dryer INSIDE my apartment. Also I'm tired of looking at boxes. My living room and bedroom are so full of boxes that I stopped packing a few days ago. This may sound wonderfully awesome, like the move is going to be a breeze because I'm so packed and ready to go, but actually... most of those boxes are just filled with books. My mom came over for two seconds the other day and demanded I give some books away. She was not impressed when I explained that I had already deposited three whole boxes at Half Price. "That's a start," I believe were her exact words.

Some people just don't appreciate the fact that there are books worth holding onto because you know that you will read them again, and that there are some books you must own multiple copies of because the story bound in hardback is a lot different than in paperback - trust me.

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UPDATE:
I am leaving work an hour early so I can meet the leasing office person and sign papers, give them a check that won't clear until Monday and get the new keys to my new apartment ... because she wants to leave work early. Leaving early today is probably very socially irresponsible of me because I am the only Admin in the legal department today (that's what they call secretaries now), but my boss isn't in the office so when I called to ask his permission he had no idea why he should not just say okay.

This is how I know that I am a fake secretary. If I were a real secretary, like all the other real secretaries I work with, I would not leave an hour early. If I were a real secretary, I would have a deep sense of morality and a strong work ethic and there is no way I would leave a bunch of lawyers unattended for an hour. God forbid they have to  un-jam the copier all by themselves.

More Awesomness in Customer Service....

"If you are simply calling to improve your day - press 9"

Yes, that was actually the menu option right before "If you would like to speak to our operator - press 0" when I called my local cabel provider about transfering my service from apartment 5 to apartment 14. They were very happy to help and once I talked to an actual human being the whole thing took like two seconds. Oh, there is going to be a $25 transfer fee for that by the way. For a split second I almost told the lady never mind, I'd like to just cancel my service, but I didn't.

God bless America.

I have a nasty habit....

I have a nasty habit of cramming an entire life span of things to do into a short period of time, eventually abandoning everything on my to-do list and crawling up into a ball on my couch underneath my comforter.

I think that is why I picked the last Sunday in May to move. If anyone has a school age child or knows a school aged child - you will understand that in the month of May is especially crammed with activities. For well over a month it seems as though my life has been driving Alex to one MUST attend event after another. However, my old lease official ends on May 31 and just to give myself a bit of breathing space we leave for Walt Disney World on June 2 (happy birthday to me!) so in my defense I don't have much choice.

Aside from packing and playing warden to a still grounded Alex I have been enjoying all those fun things that come with moving like making sure the new apartment has electricity.When I called my energy provider today I simply wanted to transfer my electric account from my soon to be old apartment to my soon to be new apartment. Only "Ultra Green Energy Company" (which was recently purchased by "Corporate Energy Giant") is in the middle of a systems upgrade and their friendly customer service representative (CSR) informed me that while they can disconnect the old apartment electricity on May 29, the earliest they would be able to connect the electricity at my new apartment would be June 2.

This news lead to the following discussion:

Me: Seriously? That sounds dumb. I’m going to be in the same address, I’m just moving to another unit.
CSR: Well, Monday is a holiday.
Me: So? What are Sunday, Tuesday and Wednesday?
CSR: Uh?
Me: Never mind. I don't want to transfer my service anymore. Just disconnect my service on May 29 and I will get a new electric provider.
CSR: Well, let me tell you about our very competitive rates.
Me: I don’t really care about your rates. I can’t live in an apartment without electricity for 4 days.

Now I am all signed up with "Wind Energy Company" who is going to connect my electricity on Friday, May 27 because their technicians don't do connection work on weekends or holidays. Thank God for the deregulation of the energy industry. I'm so impressed by the wonderful costumer service all of these privately owned businesses are forced to provide to consumers so that they can be competitive in the marketplace.

Seriously, I just want to go to Walt Disney World so I can sit in the darkened theater of the O'Canada attraction and sing-a-long to this great song while Alex dies of embarrassment....

Finding the Heart of Gustav Mahler

Its been the driest of Mays in my little world. The swamp has fallen into drought. I shudder to think of how my daughter's grades have fallen. In the middle of the night, my kitchen and living room flood and I shudder to think of all that is still not mended. A move-out date is looming on my calender and festering in every unpacked corner of my apartment while a clouded air of insipid vacations, unpaid debts, and uncertain relationships loom.

In the midst of these ominous ramblings, I went to a lovely performance of the Houston Symphony on Sunday afternoon which is notable because my mother and I usually only attend three of four concerts a year. Classical music is a bond we have had since I was child who played the double bass quite well and she was a devoted mother who drove me across the universe to attend private lessons, orchestra rehearsals and various performances. My mother gave me a lot of her time and a lot of herself.  She taught me how to walk away from an unreasonable argument, to appreciate artist expression even when you don't understand it, and to love classic movies. I like to think that my short lived career as a child musician helped my mother appreciate classical music, even if she doesn't fully understand it.

Symphonic music at its best expands our capacity to feel, to enter the compassion and the pain of being human.  Classic music holds joy deeply, and for the time we are experiencing a composer's work we borrow his passions and make them our own.

Such was the case of Sunday's performance of Mahler's 10th, and unfinished Symphony. When Mahler wrote the sketch for his final symphony he was a man living on borrowed time. Doctors had discovered he suffered from an incurable heart condition and it was uncertain how long he would live. He had learned too that his wife, Alma - an insatiable flirt - was having an affair. As unfinished works go, the sketch Mahler left behind was quite complete. Mahler wrote out all his basic melodies and cords and filled the margins with his notations of regret for the life he would not live and the heartache brought on by a cheating wife. When he died in 1911, two years after starting his final work, Mahler left us not only the bones of a symphony, but a memoir of human suffering.

And yet, despite the shrinking high A of his trumpeter and funeral march of his bass drum, the final movement of Mahler's final symphony leaves us with an uplifting melody. The kitchen floods, the grades slide, the good man is gone, the lawn turns brown, but with Mahler you come back to basics: Do I regret this life? Is it, despite all our brave words, a cheat and a waste? Does it make any slight difference to the universe that we are present?

Spending an afternoon with the Symphony simply is an extravagant gift from the heart of the performers to the hearts of whoever is sitting nearby. Life is good, no matter the disappointments — O God the disappointments. Just square your shoulders and give them your utter best. As the late great Marilyn Monroe said, "I don't want to make money, I just want to be wonderful." Life is insurmountable, but we mount up every morning and ride forward.

Ms. Beth Flys Away

Beth Geiger - Crusing on the Disney ship Magic

Somewhere off the coast of paradise

Bloggers meet Beth! She is the mother of two of the best friends I have ever had, Erin and Heather. She had a form of APLS that I will never understand fully in medical terms, only that, by the time I knew her well, when I was in High School, she had very little mobility and her speech was slurred. Still, she had a killer sense of humor and was one of the best moms I knew.

I say "new" because "Queen Elizabeth" passed away last Monday. It was one of those things that will always leave those who knew her wondering. What started as head trauma and a broken hip from an accidental fall, soon turned into an infection, ammonia, issues with her feeding tube, and eventually a blood clot in her lungs. In a lot of ways, it still doesn't seem real. There are people in this world that you expect to move on. Beth, despite her illness and the multiple infections she had over time, never seemed to be one that would die young.

I think its because despite her limitations, she never stopped living. She had a great sense of humor. She was truly the force that raised her daughters to be the people they are today. Even as they did so much to take care of her physical needs, she always made sure their emotional needs were met. I don't think they ever felt cheated out of a mother. Cheated out of a carefree childhood yes. But never cheated out of love.

When I got the call from Heather, that they were waiting to pull turn off the machines keeping her alive, I shared in the mixed sense of grief for the loss of a mother and relief of the loss of much worry. I wonder if Beth sensed that with both her daughters married and pregnant, it was time for her to move on.

Ms. Beth. Your absence hit home this weekend. I walked in your house and didn't see you sitting in front of the glass door while you typed your letters. I know your family talked of you dancing now in the sky. Maybe its because I never knew the walking Beth, but I picture you sitting, just off to the side, laughing and throwing out those zingers that always caught the world off guard.

Ms. Beth. I'm glad I knew you.

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

by Mary Oliver

published by Atlantic Monthly Press
© Mary Oliver

Crunchy Chicken's summer challenge: Turn off your A/C.

This is my first summer in a place where I have total control over the thermostat. But this is Texas. Its hot. I didn't turn it off. I just turned it up. I don't want visions of a dead Gryffindor keeping me up at night. Honestly, 80 when I'm at work and 78 when I'm at home have worked great for me. Of course, I'll admit, that it really helps to be in an apartment with ceiling fans in every room. I will never again live without ceiling fans. They cool you off instantly.
I'll admit that the whole "keep yer cool" mode has not gone over well with everyone. My parents especially. They comment on how hot it is in my apartment. My dog must be on the verge of death. Alex will be lucky to survive. I admit, since the family gathering the other day where I caved and set the A/C at 70, I have been having second thoughts. Questioning my sanity. Is enduring the heat really worth it? I admit its more fun to curl up on the couch with a blanket than it is to sit at the table under a fan.
Then, this morning happened. I checked my mail. $60. You read that right. My electric bill was $60! I am NOT caving in to the A/C addicts of the world. I will not let them guilt trip me down to 70 again! I only paid $60 for electricity this month and my electricity isn't cheap. I decided to go with Green Mountain which is a company that invests in renewable resources like wind, thermal and even solar. I'm paying over 15 cents per kilowatt. My parents pay 13 cents per kilowatt. Their last bill was $400. They don't live in mansion. Just a very cold, very expensive 3 bedroom ranch. Considering the savings I think I can brave 4 more months of summer.

Hiccup

Slight hiccups in perfect weekend

*I got a call that they didn't need me to work 8 hours of over time after all. All that extra money gone before I even had a chance to really fantasize about what to do with it. (irritation, not surprisingly 0)
I'm did really want the money and at first I was disappointed. Alex was really disappointed. Her face was priceless. You would have thought I told her we weren't celebrating Christmas anymore. "Why aren't you going to work?" was asked more than once. She got over it though when Anna still came over, even if it wasn't to babysit. I'm starting to get the impression she likes Anna more than me.

*Most sentences now begin with the words "have you seen?"
(Irritation factor 6)
The truth is, all the boxes (save the one with my toys) have been emptied and everything has found a home. I'm shocked to find that I don't have that much crap. I'm also shocked to find how irritating unorganized my daughter is. I know this is my fault. She can't think of a place for anything unless I point to a drawer and say "put this there!" She also can't be bothered to put anything back once its been used.

*The cable guy didn't come.
(irritation factor 9)
We waited at home all day. Between the hours of 8 and 5. The guy was a no show. The company got the apartment number wrong. 5 not 50. They will come again next weekend. Between the hours of 8 and 5. That didn't bother me until I realized that I'm not going to be able to pay by nephews to wait for them. They are both at work camp with church. The one week they decided to do something productive.

*The A's attention span.
(irritation factor 6)
I know its probably my fault, but she never, ever, ever does as she's told the first time of telling. I know we just moved. I know that's disruptive to a small, sensitive child. I know she is about to leave for her father's. But she didn't do it before. Now its worse. Maybe because I don't have TV so I don't have anything distracting me. I think its the Nintendo DS. Summer camp has ruined her. She never played with the thing before. She even lost track of the charger for 4 months meaning she couldn't have played it if she wanted to. Now before I go to work I drop her off in a room that's full of kids who are glued to the screen of the DSs. I tell her to do something, and she looks up, then looks down and just carries on. I swear to God if she keeps up with that thing after she comes home from Hawaii I'm banning from the house.

*My father got a new dog
(irritation factor. irritation doesn't cover it)
I know this dog will be an awesome dog if its trained. I hope that a year from now I will look back at this and laugh. I don't think I will. The irritation isn't so much with the dog as it is with my father. He refuses to train it to do anything because he doesn't want it "spoiled" before he can train it to point bird. (Yes my father hunts and kills birds). That's fine. The dog was breed to point. But for god sakes teach the dog not to bit people. While you are at it house train the thing. Most importantly stop telling mother she shouldn't leave her shoes on the floor. Hitting the dog with a newspaper has to be the most assine thing I have ever seen. Its the only thing my dad does when he decides to pay attention to the dog. It doesn't help. I'm tired of hearing about it from my mom. I'm tired of her having one more thing that makes her life a living hell. I'm tired of the whole thing.

Apartment Love

My new apartment is perfect. Clean white walls and perfect wooden blinds. Perfectly closing cupboards and drawers. A walk-in closet to hide in when the family tries to come around. Soft carpet floors good enough to sleep on. The first weekend I put away, wipe away, tidied away to make it so. This, I thought, this is how I will live. Stylish and clean, glossy even. Everything recycled, all things cleaned with house hold products. A wonderful, intimate second hand sofa; here, I will lie about in my many "me" moments, hold books between crimson manicured fingers and read of historical skulduggery. At the very least, I will do that. This red bench, here I will morn the loss of simple living and swallow down organic tea.

Life happened. Already. That did not take long. Now, a barbie scooter rides my floor. My apartment is perfect. Stuffed animals hog my sofa, "this is their bed mommy!", and my apartment is perfect. Papers clutter the red bench. Chocolate milk is spilled on the white carpet and cleaned up with the white Mickey Mouse towel. "Don't worry mom, I got it!" Clothes still sit in boxes and some toys may never find a home. Paint has pealed off the front door and the shower needs a good scrub. My apartment, my beautiful apartment, is perfect.

I'm Moving

I still can't really rap my head around that, and I'm still not really clear on what it is I'm doing. Seriously people, the last time I moved I was in third grade. That was 17 years ago. Honestly who moves out of their parents house for the first time at the age of 25. I'm like that chick in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except I'm not getting married. When I told them I was going to start looking they both said the same thing. "Why?" That was quickly followed by my mom's over dramatic, "Why would you do this to me?".
So here I am, about to start my own life with the A and suddenly I'm faced with the realization that I can do all those things I said I would do "one day." I can eat healthy meals, maybe go vegetarian. I can use safe house-hold cleaners I can be in a place that isn't centered around a TV. I can make sure all the lights stay off. I'm even thinking about riding a bike to the grocery store. (I don't have a bike, but one day). So I guess the challenge is that now I have no excuses not to do the things I've I wished I could do.
I read something that Jerry wrote not to long ago about always walking through charted territory. I guess this is me stepping off the path.

Cute Ugly Couch

Couch bought for $50 from my neighbor.

Movin' On Up!

Yes, I have the theme song to the Jefferson's stuck in my head right now, and yes, (thanks to re-runs) I got the chance to be a fan of the Jefferson's as a kid. Anyway, something that I have been so afraid wasn't going to happen is now actually happening. I am moving out of my parents house. I know its pathetic. I'm 25 and I have never lived on my own. People always remind me that my patheticness is not my fault, and maybe its not, but it still feels pathetic. Anyway, I have officially been approved for my apartment. Apartment No.5!!! I got a really cool retro Mickey Mouse table off ebay that is in Tyler, Texas (you have to say that with a twang). ROAD TRIP next weekend! And this morning, I walked outside to take Alex to the bus and the people across from me were having a garage sale. They had a couch. I'm talking it up to people, but the thing is really ugly. I'm not sure why I bought the thing. I have been trying to still one of my parents couches for the past few months, and Anna has offered me Jason's old futon for free, but something about talking my neighbor down to $50 and its mis-matchiness just said, BUY ME! If I'm ever home and awake long enough I will share pictures. It truly is a cute ugly couch. That's the only way I know how to describe it. I think in the early 2000's it was probably called "french country" now I think its more "shabby chic". Well, it might be shabby chic if I got a slip cover for it. Do you have any idea how expensive those things are though? Its things like slip covers that make me wish I could sew.

Anyway, this weekend is trash weekend. I am getting rid of everything so if you find yourself by my house, come on in and take whatever you want.