Travel Journal: California Day 1

Friday April 15th


Travel Begins…

Busy Day! I cannot be the only one who has a ton of stuff to do last minute before they leave for a trip…or am I? Procrastination is something I certainly excel at, but making sure I come home to clean sheets, putting away laundry, dropping of History Day papers, turning in library books, going to Mug N Bun to buy a gallon of root beer, going to FedEx to drop off said gallon of root beer (in a box full of peanuts, wrapped in bubble wrap, double bagged and rubber banded..let’s hope it made it!) doesn’t necessarily seem the normal way to start a vacation!

All the errands done, I got myself to the airport, hopped in the shuttle (got a little wet in the process), and got inside to catch the plane to beautiful…

Chicago’s Midway

Can I tell you how much I don’t care for Chicago airports? Well..maybe another time—but let’s put it this way: Indianapolis offers you a free couple of hours of wi-fi access. Chicago (one of the largest cities in America)? Not so much.

And of course, from Chicago to Denver—I had to sit next to two people who either made out or went back and forth in this fashion “No…I love YOU more!” “You’re silly! I love you SOOO MUCH!”

This. This behavior is enough to make normal sane people (I’ve never claimed to be one of these…but I think I can pass okay) to want to stab the offending persons in the eye. Or at least bludgeon them to death. I think it’s fantastic that you love your wife, sir, really—I do. I just don’t need to hear it for three and half hours straight.

I had brief pit stop in Denver (Where were the mountains?? I was told I would land in mountains!) and then it was off again. This time, I was stuck next to a farting businessman who double fisted gin and tonics. Sweet, right? How do I get so lucky?

But the scenery? The scenery on that flight was amazing! Can I even begin to explain how surreal it is to be 30,000 feet in the air and see the earth so close up that you feel like you could reach down and touch it? I don’t think I can, actually. The Rocky Mountains from on high look like the top of a perfect meringue pie. It doesn’t even look real. I was glad that, for once, I had taken the window seat—it was something I didn’t regret.

Until we went to land at SFO.

I fell asleep at some point on my flight from Denver, but woke up just in time to see lights sparkling up at me from the city below. I believed we had arrived. Wrong. Thirty minutes later, we are still flying over those sparkly lights—and I am so ready to get off the plane. But eventually—we did land; I got off the plane, got my bag and was promptly picked up by my tour guides, Beth and Triv. Waiting for me in the back seat? Mimosas—made from local bubbly enjoyed from Mason jars. Follow that with a most stunning view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the top and I will tell you I’ve never had a better welcome in any of my travels!

WELCOME TO CALIFORNIA!!

Yes--I'm the lazy bum with the Christmas lights....

Okay..it's officially no longer winter--so I have no excuse to hibernate. Or to be lazy when it comes to cranking out the old blog.

I've got the Spring Cleaning bug, but no time to do it, either. But I don't have a choice this week. My parents are going to be taking care of the boys for the most part when I am gallavanting about Northern California. If my mother came to the door today--I wouldn't let her in. There's dust. That you can see. This could lead her head to explode.

And then there's the reason I don't have time to clean as much as I should: work.

Ah work--the place I go on a regular basis to be insulted.

Like last Thursday..when I helped a woman find a shirt for an alumn. I asked the basic questions "How is she built? How does she like to wear her clothes?"--blah, blah, blah. And the woman says to me (swear to god--you CANNOT make this up): "Well, she's petite like you," (Adorable..I'm petite? No lady--really I'm just short.), "...but not so freakishly endowed."

I'm sorry--what? I thought I had heard her incorrectly, but she spoke on.

"I'll never understand why you girls mutate your bodies that way! It's just sad."

Oh.

Oh my god.

She thought I had purchased my girls? And because I work in customer service (and want to keep my job), I kept my mouth firmly shut. You don't have a lot of recourse when you are insulted in this job. Even when it's to your face.

But the weekend? The weekend was much more pleasant.

Saturday I had to work during the day, but had a most enjoyable evening with dinner with a good glass of wine, a pretty good movie adaptation of Jane Eyre (Which of course Carmen and I found quite funny in a lot of places that others did not. Mainly because of Dame Judi Dench's facial expressions. Classic repressed British woman--what's not to like about that?) with a small bag of THE BEST (yes--I'm going to say it) popcorn in the city. Why THE BEST? Because they use real butter! I'm actually getting hungry for it as I type. Heaven in a bag.

Sunday was a trip up to Atlanta to spend part of the day with the parents. I helped with plumbing (no, really!), and just gawked at the progress and had a BIG breakfast with the rents. Went by Lisa's Pie Shop on my way home--but sadly, she was closed. Sigh. When I got home from all my wanderings, I fired up the grill, threw on some chicken and asparagus and sat outside after dark to enjoy the breeze, my christmas lights (Yes--I am that white trash...but they look so damn festive! This week they are coming down...I promise.), and another bit of wine.

I've also heard a rumor that my bathroom will be painted when I get home next Tuesday...this makes me very happy. That said, I'm not holding my breath.

But it would still be super nice.

Blah. Just Blah. And book fun!

I wish I could say there is something hilarious, exciting, etc going on.

But there's not.

I did get the new Adele CD (21).

It's REALLY good. Pick it up if you get the chance..or download it--whatever. I have a jank tastic Ipod that is a piece of junk...so I'm doing it old school this time. It's not that I'm against digital..but I'm kind of against digital. It's nice to have something tangible that you can pick up and look at and say "MINE". Especially books. I'm just saying "NO" to the digital reader for as long as I can. I like books on shelves. I love the smell of the paper, remembering where the book has (literally and not) been with me, finding what I was thinking or random phone numbers written in the margins. Nothing tops that sense of personal history--period.

Moving on for a bit. What's been up with me?

Hmmm...let's see. I've been arguing with the the po-po (someone might have to come bail me out of jail before this is all done), trying to pay for my plates (thanks State of Indiana for taking away every possible convenient option for those of us who forget until the day the stupid things expire....). I guess you don't even get your sticker day of anymore? They mail it to you? Is there that much freaking fraud in this state that I have to put a piece of paper in my car until the sticker gets to my house? Cause it's so hard to duplicate a piece of paper. Sigh.

Oh! And I paid my bills this morning. Who's sorry now? That would be me.
                                                                         
                                              Bye-bye money!
                                         I'm gonna miss you so!
                                              Bye-bye money!
                                         Why'd you have to go?


I'm no Ann Margaret, so please..don't imagine me singing. It will only make you cry...the tears of the tortured.

I am excited that the first volume of Mark Twain's autobiography is waiting for me at the library..but that's because I'm a big nerd--which should not be news to anyone at this point. I'm too cheap to buy it (before I read it, anyway), but if you are interested..click here: Autobiography of Mark Twain, Vol. 1

I also REALLY want to read Stacy Schiff's Cleopatra: A Life, but I am still waiting for my copy to come through the library. I'm number 58! Woo-hoo. Needless to say, I'm trying to stock pile stuff to read on my trip to California (I think airplanes speed up my reading time by about 10...On the way to Hawaii in 2007, I read back to back (shamefully) Gone With the Wind AND Scarlett: The Sequel to Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind", (which I found at Goodwill for like 2 bucks! Score!). And I finished them both before I landed in Kahului. By like an hour and half. So I was forced into conversation with a 22 year old sorority girl who was "Like SOOOO excited!!" to be getting married in Maui. If I had had my wits about me, I would have shotgunned baby bottles of Wild Turkey (the only brown booze left by the end of the flight). Trust me--I was that desperate.

I don't want this to happen again, so I think I'm okay so far on the way out with Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Played with Fire (Vintage Crime/Black Lizard) (I haven't started it yet...cause I know it will go fast. These books? So. Good.). I also have a fun book about Charles Schultz that Beth gave me--and another Schultz biography I might finally finish (but I have the hard back which is bulky, but doable on a plane) Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography. It would also make my day if this next book came my way before I leave..how fun does this sound? Chick Lit and Postfeminism (Cultural Frames, Framing Culture). Doesn't sound fun to you? Pish. You just don't know what fun is!

So I have my trip out planned...working on my trip home. What to read, what to read?

Don't worry. I'll figure it out.

                                                                      

Dear God--Please Just Take My Damn Money!

So...if you care to remember, about a month ago, I received a lovely little present from the people of Whitestown.

A speeding ticket.

I was told to call the court to figure out how much I owed, etc--which I did the very next day. Because there was no notation on the ticket that I was given that said 1) How much to pay 2) How I could pay or 3) Where to pay.
Pretty awesome, right? I know, I know...in theory, it seems like a great way to make sure you get money from people....

So I called the court the first thing on Monday morning.

But they don't open until noon.

In fact, they are only open from noon until 5 pm. How they manage such sweet hours is beyond me...but I'm jealous.

So...I called back. Spoke to a lady who told me where to mail my check to and that it would be $155.00.

$155.00!! What the flaming hell! Do you people think I crap gold coins? (This too, would be awesome. Especially since gas is probably going to be $4.25 a gallon by summer...which means if I don't find a new job closer to home--SOON--I'm going to have to figure out a way to survive on tap water and government cheese.)

Being a good girl (for the most part...let's put it this way--I REALLY would prefer to stay out of a police database), I promptly copied my ticket, wrote out a check to the Whitestown Court, and dropped it in the mail.

But then, the check didn't clear. And didn't clear. So--I called them, because the nice lady at the court told me they had to have my payment by March 1st, or they would issue a warrant for me. (They don't fool around in a small town people.)

The nice lady in the court? A total idiot. I talked to the SAME woman. (How do I know this? She kept calling me 'hon' and 'sweetie'...I'm sorry, do I know you? No? Then knock it off!) And this is what she told me:

My check is coming back to me. They don't take checks. (Really? That's not what you told me the first time I called.) Also--the payment isn't due until March 31st. (Again--do you just make up things as you go?)

So now I have to go get a money order like some poor person at a gas station because I refuse to pay 12.00 for a certified check from my bank when I have perfectly good checks in my checkbook that work just fine. It's not my fault that the general public are too moronic to make sure they have enough money in their bank accounts to cover tickets. I am a responsible grown up, damnit and just because I was doing the state mandated speed limit on a county road, well, that doesn't make me a bad person. (FYI: It may be 55 on a county road--but it's 40 anywhere that Whitestown has incorporated..so be aware if you drive in Boone County, because these jerks don't have signs!!) So off to the gas station I shall go...

But not until I get my check back in the mail. I'm not THAT stupid. They aren't getting a dime from me until March 31st. So ha!

Apocalypse Meow....

Well. I've gone and done it--again.

Made a big old mess of things.

And I blame my Uncle. He's the one who found this cat. This cat who just had to have a good home. With another cat. He's sweet, charming, handsome, seven years old, calm demeanor, the second most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen (Jeter's will always be first)--a really great cat. On paper, it seemed perfect.

So I went to the Humane Society and picked up my new cat--Bernie Williams.

(Yes--the Yankee naming tradition continues in my house. Proudly so. If you don't like Bernie Williams--seriously--something is wrong with you. He's probably the smiliest guy to ever play for New York.)

Bernie the cat didn't even make a peep in the car on the way home except to help pick out his new name (they called him Herman at the shelter. Blech--how awful is that?).

He didn't pee, either--which already makes him a winner in my book.

So I get him home.

And that's when all hell breaks loose, even though I did everything those stupid articles, books, pamphlets--you name it--tell you to do.

Separate them? Check.

Mix scents? Check.

Scrub down and fill litter box with clean, fresh litter? Check, check, and check.

I thought I did everything right. But alas--I was SO very wrong.

And not so surprising? Bernie is not the problem in the equation. The problem is....Yogi.

Sweet, not so little, super dense Yogi Berra. That's what I thought, anyway. Now...not so much. Big fat whiny baby is more like it. Yogi is now terrified of his own shadow, blankets, and especially Bernie. So much so that whenever he even smells Bernie--he freaks the frak out. Completely. There is almost manic yowling going on all hours of the day and night. Poor Bernie is living under my bed, sneaking out to use the litter box or to crawl on my lap. I'm even feeding him under there because Yogi is such a damn turd about the whole thing.

Well, I obviously had to go to work today. On less than three hours of sleep--which is awesome. Night time in my house is now more dangerous than any jungle in Vietnam...trust me on this one. I just start to nod off to sleep and it sounds like a village of small children is being massacred under my bed. Not pleasant to say the least.  They lay in wait for each other....(I fear neither one of them is very much on the bright side) and it does not go well. There is a lot of smack being talked--but little action. Kind of like the Kitty version of the UN.

I just hope this little "adjustment" period is over sooner than later.

I seriously need some sleep.

Eye cream can only do so much!

Standoff with the Man...

Ugh. It's been a long week. And next week will be even longer.

I'm being punished.

What for? (There's a lot that could go here...trust me on this one. A whole lotta shame.....)

But no. It's not even for anything bad. It's for showing up to my part time job, that's what. "We can count on you!". Great. Just great.

So for the week of Inventory, at "work work", I will put in another 25 + hours in Retail Hell.

And if you have ever worked retail--you know just what a flaming hell Inventory can be. Joy of joys. Happiest of days.

I am so very much in need of a vacation just thinking about it. The good news is the new eye cream I  purchased has made a vast improvement to those suitcase sized bags under my eyes. I can go out without make up! And people will stop asking me who's been punching me in the face because the dark circles are pretty much gone, too. Money very well spent if you ask me.

(And FYI--to be a victim of domestic violence..you have to be domestic with someone, sometime.)

But, back to my title. I had an old fashioned standoff with my bank this morning. Strategery was used. And I WON.

I checked my bank account this morning, cruised through the last few days information--and BAM. There it was. $43.00 in fees.

FEES.

For not having $1000.00 a DAY in the account? $10.00.
For using my bank card? $33.00 ($0.50 for every time I used it because I didn't have $1000.00 in the account every day).

It would seem, the account I had with them prior to January of 2011 no longer exists. So they picked the "best" account for me.

You know--the one that charges the most possible fees. To me. To my person.

Look, I will kick someone in the knee over $5.00. Or less. It's not something to be proud of, but when you count pennies the way I do, forty three bucks is nothing to sneeze at. That's grocery money, yo.

And I've gots to eat.

Well...maybe not. I could stand to lose a few pounds, but that's got nothing to do with people taking my money.

So, long story short, not only did I get my money back and my account switched--I also got an apology. From a vice president. For them being a bunch of a-holes who looked for the best possible way to get more out of me.

 Hell hath no fury like a short woman separated from her cash money.

Let that be a lesson to you out there.

I've got a vicious right kick--you've been warned.

Happy times? Sure--why not?

So, this past weekend was my birthday.

I should have had two massive morning hangovers--but the drinking gods were good to me. Also, I remembered the golden rule: hydrate, hydrate, HYDRATE!

So instead--I got a speeding ticket.

In hindsight, I think I would rather have had the hangovers.

They're cheaper, you know it?

Leave it to some piggy in Whitestown to catch me with my foot on floor. Sigh. Lesson learned--do NOT drive the back way to get to Zionsville anymore.

But..I had a blast this weekend. Schnitzel, martinis, margaritas, tequila shots, limes, cake, yummy breakfast on Sunday AND a home cooked meal from the Momster? Ah...life is good.

So, I feel I need to take my good spirits with me as I move onward and upward.

I've got retinol, good booze, great friends...what more could a girl in her early 30's ask for?

Beats the hell outta me!