To the right of the dining room table, we've got a white stand which has a black box on top of it, a Grace Wireless Internet Radio. You can get any station you want, anything that interests you when you're not on a computer. Over the past three, four years that we've had it (Time becomes distorted enough in Southern California that what you think may have happened four years ago may actually have happened two years ago, and vice-versa), we've had only Las Vegas stations on, in anticipation of some day moving there, and the hope faded as they years went on, up until now.
The station that's been on the most has been KJUL 104.7. During the school year, with Dad and Meridith at work, Mom and I have had it on during lunch, and for some hours after lunch. They've got the Beatles, Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Tom Jones, Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, Sammy Davis, Jr., Bobby Darin, Frank Sinatra, The Carpenters, Anne Murray, Linda Ronstadt, Glen Campbell, and others. A good line-up. But imagine hearing those same songs every single day. Some are my favorites, such as "Wichita Lineman," but Sammy Davis Jr.'s "I've Gotta Be Me" for the 24th day in a row? Please; anything else but that! Haven't they got "The Candy Man" in their computers? I could handle that for a bit longer.
For Mom, KJUL has helped her keep hope that we'll become residents of Las Vegas one day. For me, I wanted to find any other station that had never heard of any of these singers. Sunny 106.5 in Vegas would be fine, except that what KJUL does in repeating those songs, Sunny does the same thing. And I don't need to hear "I Don't Want to Wait" by Paula Cole twice in one day.
Yesterday, I understood Mom's need to hope for that better day. I have the same hope, but up until their trip to Vegas, I didn't have the same flame. Mine was set lower. Sure, I wanted to be there, I wanted to live as I should, but I needed to do my research for my next books, to read, to keep my sanity while I lived in Santa Clarita. Living just to survive.
Every late Thursday afternoon, into the early evening, from 5-7 p.m., KJUL's morning host, Scott Gentry, presides over Table for Two, a dining deal in which you order off their menu wherever they are, and Gentry and KJUL pays for your guests. "You buy one, I'll buy one; you buy two, I'll buy two," Gentry always says over the radio during the week and on the day.
Gentry was at the re-opening of the Grand Cafe at Sunset Station, and for the rest of June, that's where he'll be. The menu for the deal has meatloaf, Philly cheese steak, roasted lemon herb chicken, and turkey dinner. Only the Philly cheese steak comes with fries; the rest have mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. Mom had the roasted lemon herb chicken, exactly what I would have ordered if I had been there. Dad had the Philly cheese steak.
For Mom, it was a lot more than she could ever have imagined. Even more than the hope she always had. She said it was the first time in years that she had had decent chicken (Santa Clarita's not well known for good meat of any kind in the supermarkets, though sometimes you can find it at Sprouts, but not often, because of the prices they push), but the highlight for her was meeting Scott Gentry. Meridith showed me the pictures Mom sent to her cell phone, and I saw the one Dad sent me by e-mail. Gentry looks exactly as he sounds. He's a tall, permanently amiable man, the voice and soul of the Las Vegas that belongs to residents. He told Mom and Dad that on their radio board in the studio, they can see where people are listening from, and they see us often on there. It's been so long since I've heard Mom that happy, but when you finally get away from the Santa Clarita Valley for a time, your happiness explodes into outer space. She and Dad drove through the Strip later that evening, and she was taking pictures like she was a brand-new tourist. She told Meridith that they have a Checkers, just like the ones we had in Florida, and that the chocolate milk we like so much that we found at the Wal-Mart Supercenter here (I've forgotten the name right now, but it tasted a lot more natural and richer than what we've always had) is there in half-gallon containers. We've always gotten it in the pint bottles because that's all they've had.
The inspector that's supposed to assess how much the insurance company will pay for the car repairs still hasn't shown up, so there's a chance they may still be in Vegas until Monday if he or she doesn't appear today. Yet it gives Mom and Dad more time to explore, and they've got a decent rental, a blue Kia Soul. The last time we had one, in orange, when our PT Cruiser was being repaired by that lack of a mechanic next to Kmart, Dad liked driving it, and they found it at Enterprise, and the guy told Mom and Dad to have a look at it. They like it a lot better than the jeep's bastard child that they had driven the other day. And it's a lot cleaner.
Mom got teary over the phone last night, though, when she realized that had we boarded the dogs and Meridith and I had gone with them, we wouldn't have been home right now to take care of the birds (Mr. Chips and Gizmo) and their food might have run out. Because of this, we'll have to find someone to take care of the birds, too, when we're in Vegas next, just as a precaution. But other than that, she's been very happy, completely satisfied, and I would be as well if I was there, but better that she has it right now. She's needed that more than I do.
Yesterday was the busiest day for me, moreso than when I swept the entire patio. It started with vacuuming Mom and Dad's bedroom and bathroom, the hallway that connects my room and Meridith's room, and our bathroom. Both bathrooms here are carpeted, and I had intended to vacuum Mom and Dad's room, as Dad had asked, after we had put new litter in Mr. Chips and Gizmo's cages, but we had to get to that Ocean Nails Spa in enough time before it closed for the evening so Meridith could get her nails done.
After the vacuuming, my jackets and Meridith's jackets went in the laundry. Then all those were hung up (For about a year and a half now, maybe two years, they've established residency on the back of our chairs in the dining room. All of them), and bedsheets and pillowcases went into the laundry. We figured that Mom and Dad had clean bedsheets at Hawthorne Suites, so we should have some, too. It was funny when we were on the phone with Mom last night, and she said that we should do the linens, because she and Dad did not want to think about that when they got home. Meridith and I looked at each other, because that's exactly what we did, but our own, because we did not want to wash the linens from Mom and Dad's bed, being that their bed is a lot bigger than ours. But later, Meridith said that she'll help me put those linens back on. That's one of today's tasks.
But before the laundry, I swept the garage. I hate the dust and the particles in there that have built up all these years, but as another parental request, it had to be done. And I finally finished reading White House Diary by Jimmy Carter. I can't do much more research for my books with the books I've checked out from the library, being that I've got to return a majority of them this weekend, or at least what I can carry, since nothing else can be checked out from the Valencia library on Saturday, and everything has to go back by next Friday. I did learn of an "express library" that opened in Stevenson Ranch, that has shorter hours, a limited selection of books and DVDs, but they do allow you to pick up holds, so I could switch my County of Los Angeles library card to that branch. But we'll see what happens in the next few weeks, because I might not need that library card anymore. I could be applying for a Henderson library card in due time.
I don't mind returning these books. I have a three-volume biography of Richard Nixon that I bought, in fact, many books pertaining to the Nixon administration; one volume of a Bill Clinton biography; My Life, Bill Clinton's autobiography, books about post-presidential lives, one book entirely containing presidential anecdotes, and I'll have to see what else is in that stack of books. That'll suit me until we move.
Yesterday, I felt like I never stopped moving. That broom kept moving in the garage, and I used the happy-face dust pan to sweep up into a white garbage bag leaves and rock particles and lint. The jackets went into the laundry and were eventually hung up. The bedsheets and pillow cases went in, and I hopped about both sides of my bed, making sure those sheets were in tight. I finished White House Diary and I transcribed what I needed to into that Word file. Actually, by the time I began to transcribe from my notes, I was dead tired. I didn't think I could get through it, but I pushed myself and then finally went to bed at my usual time, between 11:05 and 11:20. When I woke up this morning, my clock confirmed that I had been more tired than usual. Wednesday morning, I woke up at 7:01. Yesterday morning, 7:05. This morning, 7:45.
Most important to me was that I felt my own sense of satisfaction. The chores that were done were part of it, but the majority was from also finishing Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I've moved on to Man with a Pan, an anthology of essays about men who cook for their families, including Stephen King. And after that, probably Cornbread Nation 2: The United States of Barbecue. I'll take it for now, but just like Mom being excited to meet Scott Gentry and to really see Las Vegas from a truly future resident's point of view, I can't wait to do the same, in combining my love for reading and writing with my love for Las Vegas. That will be life worth living.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Run of the House: Day 3
Dad told us part of the full story yesterday before he went for part two of his job interview at the charter school: It would be three to five days before the PT Cruiser is repaired, I'm guessing because the parts aren't as readily available, being that Chrysler doesn't make the car anymore.
Mom told us the rest of the story last night: AAA wanted to leave them at the side of the road to make their own way back after the PT Cruiser was towed. The tow truck driver did not agree, and drove them back to Fiesta Henderson. Neither did the woman at AAA, who said she would consult with her boss about that. We now have a contact at AAA there, and Meridith and I learned that the guidebooks you get from AAA are in a vending machine there. Inside, there's guidebooks for the states surrounding Nevada, and a large map of the United States.
It's been an eventful stay for them thus far. At Fiesta Henderson, Mom had to call downstairs again to get someone to fix the toilet and the showerhead. The former keeps running, and the latter drips for a long time after Dad gets out of the shower at night, and that makes it hard for Mom to sleep. But, there have been some decent things that have happened to them that have built up their faith that this trip has been worth it. For one, the second part of Dad's job interview went well. The kids were impressed, and so were the higher-ups. The highest higher-up at that school is going to speak to the head honcho at the school in Reno about Dad. It's going to take some more time, which means he won't be signing a contract while he's there. The school understands that because of our distance from Las Vegas in Santa Clarita, Dad can't go back for nothing, so hopefully the next phone call or e-mail from them after he gets back will be the one we've wanted for so long. The head of the school also introduced Dad to the other teachers at lunch and left him to talk to them and ask any questions he wanted.
The owner of the repair shop where the car is being fixed is from Paramus, New Jersey, just like Dad. He said to Mom and Dad that a lot of people living in Henderson are from the East. I like that, because we take our sensibilities from wherever we're from over on that side of the country, and we combine it with the day-to-day experiences of living in a true desert. The physical aspects of the desert, I mean, not emotional ones, because for me, Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, they have everything I could possibly want. There's a writers' group in Henderson, there's the Henderson JCC, the Pinball Hall of Fame is fairly close by, and the libraries in Henderson and Boulder City are so accessible! I don't have to worry that my local library is going to cut itself off from one big system at the whim of a City Council and isolate itself as one tinier branch. Henderson operates on its own, separate from the Clark County system, but at least it has an incredible number of books, and five branches to boot, not just three, as it will be in Santa Clarita.
So we also have a contact at that repair shop whenever our car has any problems. And we have a contact at Hawthorne Suites in Henderson, which was spurred on by the Fiesta Henderson raising its rate for Mom and Dad's room after three days. They can't afford $110 a night, nor the $70 the manager said they could do. Having money for moving is optimal.
Hawthorn Suites is close to Fiesta Henderson, but has many more advantages that are necessary for Mom and Dad, and then for us. For one, you don't have to walk through a casino to get to your room. That's standard for hotels with casinos, especially on the Strip. I know. But for us, future residents, we need our room immediately after a long day of doing whatever will have to be done on the next trip. It has a complimentary breakfast buffet every morning, free local and long-distance calls, free Internet, a free gym, and crucial to us: Pets are allowed. Plus, there's washers and dryers there, and Mom said she's going to use a lot of quarters when they get there, because there's much laundry to be done after these three days. And each room has a microwave, refrigerator, a flat-screen TV, and a DVD player. We should just live there. No doubt we will until Mom and Dad have signed for wherever we live next. We hope it'll be that house in Boulder City.
After that half-hour conversation that lasted until 9:15 (I kept an eye on the clock because I still had to finish my work on the computer), Mom called after 10 and said that she and Dad were back from downstairs at the casino and hadn't won any big jackpots. I told her that the big jackpot for us would be Dad being hired at that school and us taking ownership of that house. That's all we need. She also told us that the manager at the car repair place said that he hopes to be done with the PT Cruiser by Saturday. They have a rental from Enterprise that Mom says is the dirtiest car she's ever seen. It looks like the bastard child of a jeep because the grille mimics the front of a jeep. It has Utah plates, so I had Meridith text them earlier in the evening: "How many wives does it hold?" After they check into Hawthorne Suites, they're going back to Enterprise to get another car.
For Meridith and I, it was a quiet day. She woke up a little after 10 because she had stayed up until 1 a.m. peeling glue from her fingers. I forgot what she had been gluing. It might have been more things in her scrapbook, but I didn't notice.
She spent most of the day folding her huge load of laundry, including four t-shirts I had slipped into the second load, to wear on the weekend. It took her a while because she had other things to do during it, like checking on Tigger, as well as a break for a snack. That load comprised 3/4 of her closet, and for most of the shirts, it had been a long time.
I hate seasons 5 and 6 of The West Wing with a passion. After Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme left the show at the end of season 4, it never got stable under the direction of executive producer John Wells. The characters were no longer how we always knew them, exhibiting traits that were completely foreign to who they were. However, I have found the season 5 episodes with John Goodman as the Acting President, and the episode of the funeral of a former president, and the episode about potential Supreme Court nominees (guest-starring Glenn Close and William Fichtner) fascinating, moreso lately the funeral episode because of my research, and the setting for that fictional presidential library looking exactly like the kind of presidential library I'd like to be at all the time.
I wanted to see The Stormy Present (the funeral episode) again, but didn't want to have to Netflix the third disc of season 5 again. And then I found an e-mail from Amazon touting a massive sale of Warner Bros. DVDs, which I took advantage of, paying $5.49 for Auntie Mame and about a dollar less for Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn. I've never seen it, but it is Sondheim, and that's the automatic attraction.
Seasons of The West Wing were going for $15.99 and a little more up (The priciest are the sixth and seven seasons at $22.99 each), and I thought to myself, "Do I really need season 5, despite my vehement hatred?" No, I don't. I love seasons 1, 2, 3, 4 and 7 and that's all I need in my collection. But I wanted those particular episodes. Ah, Amazon Instant Video, how I love thee at $1.99 per episode. And that's exactly what I did, and spent most of my day watching those episodes, and certain scenes of The Stormy Present over and over again. I loathe some of the dialogue, I wish that Presidents Bartlet, Newman (James Cromwell) and Walken (Goodman) had more scenes together discussing the weight of the office, however temporary (in Walken's case), but I love the plot and the setting, as it also reminds me of watching Reagan's funeral on TV, and the history of that day.
Reading Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing while waiting for Meridith to get her nails done was truly one of the greatest pleasures I've had in Santa Clarita, and there are very few. It may very well be the greatest pleasure because of how peaceful it was. I didn't bring my watch with me, I didn't need to know what time it was, I just wanted to wade in the words that were in front of me. That's all I needed. I'm a simple soul. A good book is my big jackpot.
Dinner was an interesting experience. While sitting on that bench, reading, I had a notion about chicken breast and rice. Chicken breast whole on the plate with rice on the side? Then I thought about the chicken breast cut up and put on top of the rice. The catalyst for this was the bottle of Iron Chef Thai sweet pepper and garlic sauce that had been in the cabinet for months and was reaching its expiration date. Sounds good on chicken and rice, emphasis on "sounds."
Meridith made the dinner, but admitted that she had put in too much sauce after we kept getting major whiffs of heat and then hot, because of the seeds in the sauce. I didn't mind, since the chicken and rice were exactly as I had hoped, though it was brown rice. I don't mind brown rice, but I had thought about white rice, and we didn't have any. It was still good. Meridith struggled to get through the rest in her bowl and I told her not to force herself, to finish what she could and then dump the rest. And she did.
After the phone call from Mom, the rest of the evening was pretty nice. I had Tivo'd The Great Muppet Caper off of Showtime, and we watched some of that up until it was time for bed.
Today is a bigger day for Mom and Dad than it is for us. After checking into Hawthorne Suites and then getting another car from Enterprise, they've got the opportunity explore whatever they want, though I'm sure it'll be the washing machines and dryers at Hawthorne first. We're planning laundry here, too, jackets that haven't been washed in quite a while, and our bedsheets. We figure that since they get fresh sheets at Hawthorne, we should have clean sheets, too.
I still have to vacuum around the house, since Dad asked me to vacuum his and Mom's room after we put new litter in the birds' cages. We did that late yesterday, and all I had time for was to vacuum around the birds' cages since Meridith had to get to that nail salon (called "Ocean Nails Spa") before it closed. Better that she had some time there and didn't have to be rushed, so we left right after we were done.
I also still have to sweep the garage. I prefer sweeping the patio. At least I know what I'm sweeping there. But I'll do it. Mom and Dad asked before they left.
Oh, one more thing. Mom also told me last night that they got me a Las Vegas Weekly, exactly what I wanted and I'm psyched to read it. I also requested the Friday edition of the Las Vegas Review-Journal since the weekend Neon section is in there and I want to finally spend some time reading a local paper, not the barely-two minutes I spend skimming through The Signal since there's never anything interesting to read in there. According to the Hawthorne Suites website, one of the amenities is a "daily complimentary newspaper." I hope that's the Review-Journal. It would save Dad a few coins. We'll definitely subscribe to it after we move here.
Mom told us the rest of the story last night: AAA wanted to leave them at the side of the road to make their own way back after the PT Cruiser was towed. The tow truck driver did not agree, and drove them back to Fiesta Henderson. Neither did the woman at AAA, who said she would consult with her boss about that. We now have a contact at AAA there, and Meridith and I learned that the guidebooks you get from AAA are in a vending machine there. Inside, there's guidebooks for the states surrounding Nevada, and a large map of the United States.
It's been an eventful stay for them thus far. At Fiesta Henderson, Mom had to call downstairs again to get someone to fix the toilet and the showerhead. The former keeps running, and the latter drips for a long time after Dad gets out of the shower at night, and that makes it hard for Mom to sleep. But, there have been some decent things that have happened to them that have built up their faith that this trip has been worth it. For one, the second part of Dad's job interview went well. The kids were impressed, and so were the higher-ups. The highest higher-up at that school is going to speak to the head honcho at the school in Reno about Dad. It's going to take some more time, which means he won't be signing a contract while he's there. The school understands that because of our distance from Las Vegas in Santa Clarita, Dad can't go back for nothing, so hopefully the next phone call or e-mail from them after he gets back will be the one we've wanted for so long. The head of the school also introduced Dad to the other teachers at lunch and left him to talk to them and ask any questions he wanted.
The owner of the repair shop where the car is being fixed is from Paramus, New Jersey, just like Dad. He said to Mom and Dad that a lot of people living in Henderson are from the East. I like that, because we take our sensibilities from wherever we're from over on that side of the country, and we combine it with the day-to-day experiences of living in a true desert. The physical aspects of the desert, I mean, not emotional ones, because for me, Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, they have everything I could possibly want. There's a writers' group in Henderson, there's the Henderson JCC, the Pinball Hall of Fame is fairly close by, and the libraries in Henderson and Boulder City are so accessible! I don't have to worry that my local library is going to cut itself off from one big system at the whim of a City Council and isolate itself as one tinier branch. Henderson operates on its own, separate from the Clark County system, but at least it has an incredible number of books, and five branches to boot, not just three, as it will be in Santa Clarita.
So we also have a contact at that repair shop whenever our car has any problems. And we have a contact at Hawthorne Suites in Henderson, which was spurred on by the Fiesta Henderson raising its rate for Mom and Dad's room after three days. They can't afford $110 a night, nor the $70 the manager said they could do. Having money for moving is optimal.
Hawthorn Suites is close to Fiesta Henderson, but has many more advantages that are necessary for Mom and Dad, and then for us. For one, you don't have to walk through a casino to get to your room. That's standard for hotels with casinos, especially on the Strip. I know. But for us, future residents, we need our room immediately after a long day of doing whatever will have to be done on the next trip. It has a complimentary breakfast buffet every morning, free local and long-distance calls, free Internet, a free gym, and crucial to us: Pets are allowed. Plus, there's washers and dryers there, and Mom said she's going to use a lot of quarters when they get there, because there's much laundry to be done after these three days. And each room has a microwave, refrigerator, a flat-screen TV, and a DVD player. We should just live there. No doubt we will until Mom and Dad have signed for wherever we live next. We hope it'll be that house in Boulder City.
After that half-hour conversation that lasted until 9:15 (I kept an eye on the clock because I still had to finish my work on the computer), Mom called after 10 and said that she and Dad were back from downstairs at the casino and hadn't won any big jackpots. I told her that the big jackpot for us would be Dad being hired at that school and us taking ownership of that house. That's all we need. She also told us that the manager at the car repair place said that he hopes to be done with the PT Cruiser by Saturday. They have a rental from Enterprise that Mom says is the dirtiest car she's ever seen. It looks like the bastard child of a jeep because the grille mimics the front of a jeep. It has Utah plates, so I had Meridith text them earlier in the evening: "How many wives does it hold?" After they check into Hawthorne Suites, they're going back to Enterprise to get another car.
For Meridith and I, it was a quiet day. She woke up a little after 10 because she had stayed up until 1 a.m. peeling glue from her fingers. I forgot what she had been gluing. It might have been more things in her scrapbook, but I didn't notice.
She spent most of the day folding her huge load of laundry, including four t-shirts I had slipped into the second load, to wear on the weekend. It took her a while because she had other things to do during it, like checking on Tigger, as well as a break for a snack. That load comprised 3/4 of her closet, and for most of the shirts, it had been a long time.
I hate seasons 5 and 6 of The West Wing with a passion. After Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme left the show at the end of season 4, it never got stable under the direction of executive producer John Wells. The characters were no longer how we always knew them, exhibiting traits that were completely foreign to who they were. However, I have found the season 5 episodes with John Goodman as the Acting President, and the episode of the funeral of a former president, and the episode about potential Supreme Court nominees (guest-starring Glenn Close and William Fichtner) fascinating, moreso lately the funeral episode because of my research, and the setting for that fictional presidential library looking exactly like the kind of presidential library I'd like to be at all the time.
I wanted to see The Stormy Present (the funeral episode) again, but didn't want to have to Netflix the third disc of season 5 again. And then I found an e-mail from Amazon touting a massive sale of Warner Bros. DVDs, which I took advantage of, paying $5.49 for Auntie Mame and about a dollar less for Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn. I've never seen it, but it is Sondheim, and that's the automatic attraction.
Seasons of The West Wing were going for $15.99 and a little more up (The priciest are the sixth and seven seasons at $22.99 each), and I thought to myself, "Do I really need season 5, despite my vehement hatred?" No, I don't. I love seasons 1, 2, 3, 4 and 7 and that's all I need in my collection. But I wanted those particular episodes. Ah, Amazon Instant Video, how I love thee at $1.99 per episode. And that's exactly what I did, and spent most of my day watching those episodes, and certain scenes of The Stormy Present over and over again. I loathe some of the dialogue, I wish that Presidents Bartlet, Newman (James Cromwell) and Walken (Goodman) had more scenes together discussing the weight of the office, however temporary (in Walken's case), but I love the plot and the setting, as it also reminds me of watching Reagan's funeral on TV, and the history of that day.
Reading Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing while waiting for Meridith to get her nails done was truly one of the greatest pleasures I've had in Santa Clarita, and there are very few. It may very well be the greatest pleasure because of how peaceful it was. I didn't bring my watch with me, I didn't need to know what time it was, I just wanted to wade in the words that were in front of me. That's all I needed. I'm a simple soul. A good book is my big jackpot.
Dinner was an interesting experience. While sitting on that bench, reading, I had a notion about chicken breast and rice. Chicken breast whole on the plate with rice on the side? Then I thought about the chicken breast cut up and put on top of the rice. The catalyst for this was the bottle of Iron Chef Thai sweet pepper and garlic sauce that had been in the cabinet for months and was reaching its expiration date. Sounds good on chicken and rice, emphasis on "sounds."
Meridith made the dinner, but admitted that she had put in too much sauce after we kept getting major whiffs of heat and then hot, because of the seeds in the sauce. I didn't mind, since the chicken and rice were exactly as I had hoped, though it was brown rice. I don't mind brown rice, but I had thought about white rice, and we didn't have any. It was still good. Meridith struggled to get through the rest in her bowl and I told her not to force herself, to finish what she could and then dump the rest. And she did.
After the phone call from Mom, the rest of the evening was pretty nice. I had Tivo'd The Great Muppet Caper off of Showtime, and we watched some of that up until it was time for bed.
Today is a bigger day for Mom and Dad than it is for us. After checking into Hawthorne Suites and then getting another car from Enterprise, they've got the opportunity explore whatever they want, though I'm sure it'll be the washing machines and dryers at Hawthorne first. We're planning laundry here, too, jackets that haven't been washed in quite a while, and our bedsheets. We figure that since they get fresh sheets at Hawthorne, we should have clean sheets, too.
I still have to vacuum around the house, since Dad asked me to vacuum his and Mom's room after we put new litter in the birds' cages. We did that late yesterday, and all I had time for was to vacuum around the birds' cages since Meridith had to get to that nail salon (called "Ocean Nails Spa") before it closed. Better that she had some time there and didn't have to be rushed, so we left right after we were done.
I also still have to sweep the garage. I prefer sweeping the patio. At least I know what I'm sweeping there. But I'll do it. Mom and Dad asked before they left.
Oh, one more thing. Mom also told me last night that they got me a Las Vegas Weekly, exactly what I wanted and I'm psyched to read it. I also requested the Friday edition of the Las Vegas Review-Journal since the weekend Neon section is in there and I want to finally spend some time reading a local paper, not the barely-two minutes I spend skimming through The Signal since there's never anything interesting to read in there. According to the Hawthorne Suites website, one of the amenities is a "daily complimentary newspaper." I hope that's the Review-Journal. It would save Dad a few coins. We'll definitely subscribe to it after we move here.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Just a Bench, the Words, and the Wind
Reading is an even more heavenly pleasure when there's nothing technological surrounding you, when you have nothing to do.
Before she left with Dad for Las Vegas, Mom told Meridith to go to one of the two nail salons near our neighborhood and get her cuticles cleaned. Mom got her nails done at a salon at the Henderson Galleria mall.
Meridith chose the Ocean Nails Spa, near the Grand Panda Chinese restaurant, a Starbucks, and a Subway. I don't like the fumes in those places, so I took a bench at the far end of that chunk of commerce building (There's also a dentist's office, and a dry cleaners) and opened to where I had left off in Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I brought along some tape flags with me since I usually copy down titles and authors on a yellow legal notepad on a small clipboard, and I didn't want to bring all that with me.
There was only the sounds of traffic and a hydraulic hiss from inside the dry cleaners, what sounded like a "tee", and then a scant few seconds later, a "tah," and a noticeable cool wind which made me glad, after about 10 minutes, that I had brought my jacket. I looked up occasionally to see if Meridith had come out, but I was deep into reading about southern food and food culture. I was gone. Solid gone. I loved that I was in this one spot in the entire world, doing exactly what I wanted to do. That's all I needed.
Before she left with Dad for Las Vegas, Mom told Meridith to go to one of the two nail salons near our neighborhood and get her cuticles cleaned. Mom got her nails done at a salon at the Henderson Galleria mall.
Meridith chose the Ocean Nails Spa, near the Grand Panda Chinese restaurant, a Starbucks, and a Subway. I don't like the fumes in those places, so I took a bench at the far end of that chunk of commerce building (There's also a dentist's office, and a dry cleaners) and opened to where I had left off in Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I brought along some tape flags with me since I usually copy down titles and authors on a yellow legal notepad on a small clipboard, and I didn't want to bring all that with me.
There was only the sounds of traffic and a hydraulic hiss from inside the dry cleaners, what sounded like a "tee", and then a scant few seconds later, a "tah," and a noticeable cool wind which made me glad, after about 10 minutes, that I had brought my jacket. I looked up occasionally to see if Meridith had come out, but I was deep into reading about southern food and food culture. I was gone. Solid gone. I loved that I was in this one spot in the entire world, doing exactly what I wanted to do. That's all I needed.
The Run of the House: Day 2
Mom and Dad found a condo in Boulder City, and a comparison to living in Santa Clarita.
It turns out that there's more to Boulder City than just its main street area, which is small enough to truly be called a small town. There's no casinos, no bars, and it feels so relaxed, not faux-relaxed like big cities sometimes try to do with small spaces. It is genuinely quiet, with that peaceful feeling everywhere. The bowling alley, with four or five lanes, is only open for a few hours in the afternoon. There's the Historic Boulder Dam Hotel, which feels like the Dragonfly Inn on Gilmore Girls. Really.
And there's a museum on the second floor of the Boulder Dam Hotel called the Boulder City/Hoover Dam Museum that covers the history of the city and the dam, since they're both interconnected. Boulder City was begun by the federal government to house the workers building the Hoover Dam. The nearby Hacienda Hotel and Casino (outside city limits, naturally) has a small screening room where they run the government film about the Hoover Dam on a loop, and looking at the website for the museum reminded me that I want to see that film again, besides the actual Hoover Dam itself of course, more than we've seen in the past by just standing at the side. Especially the new bridge that goes over Hoover Dam, right into Arizona, into another time zone.
We knew all this about Boulder City (except for the museum. I don't think we went far enough into the building to find it, or maybe it was closed that day), but not about how far Boulder City stretched in housing, which is more than just the immediate area surrounding the town heart and joints and skeleton.
So, this condo. It's two floors, with relatively steep stairs, as Mom tells us. There's a game room, an office for Dad, and a balcony on the second floor, with enough room for me to claim it as my new reading and writing space. This Saugus apartment has been so small that I've had to use the left side of the couch in the living room and the arm of that side as my reading and writing space when I'm not using the computer for book writing or blog entries. I'm thinking of a small bookcase on that balcony.
It's three bedrooms, three-and-a-half bathrooms. Mom said that there's either one bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs, or two bedrooms downstairs and one bedroom upstairs. I'll get it right later.
The garage is a four-car garage, and there's a small room in the garage. Mom excitedly told us that the garage is bigger than our entire apartment. Well then, I'm ready right now! All I've got to do is see if I can get away with taking a few more books than I had intended. My 50-book collection is going, but as to the rest, only what I want to read so badly but haven't yet.
Dad had the job interview yesterday, and this morning at 10, they want him to come back and teach a lesson in Microsoft Word to 6th graders for 10 minutes. This is a big test for Dad, because for the past seven years, he's taught only 7th and 8th graders. But he can do it. Mom got him a proper shirt for the occasion from Kohl's at the Henderson Galleria mall. It was intended to be a Father's Day present, but Mom told us that Father's Day has been covered, since he didn't bring a shirt with him that would be appropriate for this. He didn't know that it was going to happen, so luckily he has Mom there.
They went to the house last night (I should say "condo", but considering how big it is, I'm calling it a house) and talked with the 89-year-old man who owns it, and is hard of hearing. He's selling it because his wife died not too long ago. She loved living in Las Vegas, and died four months after they moved to Boulder City. It's sad, but 89 years old, and however old his wife was, I attribute long living to Las Vegas. I feel happy about this great chance, nothing physically bothering me, and I know I'll flourish there.
Now here's where the comparison to living in Santa Clarita comes in: Mom and Dad left the house and not far out, the PT Cruiser started gushing coolant. We don't have a proper mechanic in Santa Clarita, certainly not the one Dad's used for all this time, and now realizes that he has to find a better one, who knows exactly what he or she is doing. Fortunately, the car started again, and since they were close enough, they went back to the house and asked the man if they could use his phone to call AAA. He agreed, and at the same time, his neighbor from across the street was making him dinner.
In Santa Clarita, no one would be that gracious to let you inside their house to use the phone. Here, you'd better be carrying your cell phone. And a neighbor making dinner for another neighbor? You mean, we have neighbors in this area? I thought those were just empty houses with lights that come on automatically at dusk and click off before midnight comes.
You will never find a neighbor making dinner for another neighbor like that, certainly not an elderly one. If they're old, there's the Santa Clarita Senior Center and a few senior living facilities around. Never will you find it like that here. And that kind, gentle act shows that we're finally moving to the right place.
So not only does Dad have the big teaching test this morning, but they're probably up right now to take the shuttle that Fiesta Henderson (where they're staying) provides to the nearest car rental facility, only a few blocks away. They'll tell me which one it is later. I keep thinking Hertz. I might be right. It sounds familiar.
(Addendum: I just talked to Mom. It's an Enterprise shuttle from Fiesta Henderson. We've used them before when the PT Cruiser has undergone repairs at that lack of a mechanic.)
This necessitates staying another night. With that test, and the car rental, and whatever else might transpire after the test, Mom doesn't want Dad driving back here today. We're fine. When we went food shopping on Friday and Saturday of last week, we made sure we got enough just in case this happened.
For Meridith and I, yesterday was quiet. Meridith cleaned out her closet, filled two bags with clothes she wants to donate to Goodwill, gave me a huge load and a half of laundry to put in the machine for her (I added to the second load the shirts I intend to wear this weekend), and then went to the other side of her room and began putting what she wanted to throw out into a black garbage bag and what she wanted to donate into a white garbage bag, which became three full white garbage bags. At the same time, she had 1220 AM on her radio, which is the "Hometown Station", as they call themselves, in Santa Clarita. Decent music in the afternoon, news often, and it kept up the quiet rhythm of her working in her room.
Meanwhile, I wandered between couch and computer. Right now is exactly how I started yesterday morning, with webcomics, with writing on my blog, with seeing if there's Advanced Reader Copies (ARCs) of books on abebooks.com which interest me. Nothing lately. I'm hoping there'll be ARCs of It's Classified by Nicolle Wallace, the sequel to her "Eighteen Acres" some time soon. It's coming out in September, which means it should be available as an ARC soon enough, if one of the sellers of ARCs that I like picks it up. Recently, I snatched up Harold: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain by Hal Holbrook, and that's being published in September, too. I was hoping that I'd find It's Classified soon enough, and have it to read on one of our future road trips to Las Vegas. I've already got one book ready to go for that purpose called On the Volcano by James Nelson, the author of The Trouble with Gumballs, which I loved, and you can see how much I love it (http://scrapsofliteracy.blogspot.com/2011/04/first-lines-from-books-i-love-2-trouble.html). It's Nelson's first novel and holding it yesterday, it felt like I should read it on the way first to the Grewal Travel Center rest stop in Baker, and then to Las Vegas. I'm also thinking that the biography I have of Diamond Jim Brady by H. Paul Jeffers. And I've also got all of Tessa Hadley's novels and short stories (I became hooked on her writing after reading a short story of hers in an issue of The New Yorker), so it's going to be a lot less difficult to figure out what to bring with me to read on a road trip. I used to bring a 20-pound bag of books with me on those trips. No more. I've become more efficient.
The arm of the couch holds White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, which I still have to finish, Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing, Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, a January/February 2011 issue of Saveur called "100: Chefs' Edition" in which chefs reveal their favorite things, foods, restaurants, ingredients, tips, etc. etc., and In Nevada: The Land, the People, God, and Chance by David Thomson. I still have the books I mentioned in a previous entry for that crash course ("The Final Library Holds"), and I might start on that today. There's still time. Not as much as years ago when the Valencia library was still fully connected to the County of Los Angeles system, but I'll make sure that I'll at least read The Sagebrush State: Nevada's History, Government, and Politics: Third Edition by Michael W. Bowers, to learn about the state's Constitution, and The Money and the Power: The Making of Las Vegas and Its Hold on America 1947-2000 by Sally Denton and Roger Morris, which I've wanted to read so badly ever since Las Vegas became a possibility, but never found the space for it in my immediate reading list. It has that space now.
Meridith worked on her room with breaks for lunch and dinner. Yep, all day yesterday. I was assigned to take the full white bags to the living room and the black garbage bag to our garbage bin at the curb. That arrangement worked for me.
Mom's insistent that Meridith get her nails done, especially to get her cuticles fully cleaned out, and there's a nail place that's a short walk from us, so she might do that today. I think I'll go with her, not to sit inside with all those fumes, but just to take a walk. I'll bring a book with me and wait outside, since it's supposed to be relatively warm today at 73 degrees. As to what else, I don't know. Reading is obvious, and I'm happy that Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune are on tonight, since they were pre-empted last night for game 1 of the NBA Finals, which I'm not watching very closely.
For me, it's enough that I have this time, which may be all I get before the militaristic regimen of moving begins. We've still got more things to throw away, to donate, and I've got to figure out exactly what I want to bring with me and get rid of, which will likely involve a few more DVDs.
This is the first time I've felt at peace with this apartment. I don't feel like I'm fighting it, like I used to, and I'm ready to let it go, because I never felt anything for it in the first place. Let it go to someone or a few people who can give it more than I ever could.
It turns out that there's more to Boulder City than just its main street area, which is small enough to truly be called a small town. There's no casinos, no bars, and it feels so relaxed, not faux-relaxed like big cities sometimes try to do with small spaces. It is genuinely quiet, with that peaceful feeling everywhere. The bowling alley, with four or five lanes, is only open for a few hours in the afternoon. There's the Historic Boulder Dam Hotel, which feels like the Dragonfly Inn on Gilmore Girls. Really.
And there's a museum on the second floor of the Boulder Dam Hotel called the Boulder City/Hoover Dam Museum that covers the history of the city and the dam, since they're both interconnected. Boulder City was begun by the federal government to house the workers building the Hoover Dam. The nearby Hacienda Hotel and Casino (outside city limits, naturally) has a small screening room where they run the government film about the Hoover Dam on a loop, and looking at the website for the museum reminded me that I want to see that film again, besides the actual Hoover Dam itself of course, more than we've seen in the past by just standing at the side. Especially the new bridge that goes over Hoover Dam, right into Arizona, into another time zone.
We knew all this about Boulder City (except for the museum. I don't think we went far enough into the building to find it, or maybe it was closed that day), but not about how far Boulder City stretched in housing, which is more than just the immediate area surrounding the town heart and joints and skeleton.
So, this condo. It's two floors, with relatively steep stairs, as Mom tells us. There's a game room, an office for Dad, and a balcony on the second floor, with enough room for me to claim it as my new reading and writing space. This Saugus apartment has been so small that I've had to use the left side of the couch in the living room and the arm of that side as my reading and writing space when I'm not using the computer for book writing or blog entries. I'm thinking of a small bookcase on that balcony.
It's three bedrooms, three-and-a-half bathrooms. Mom said that there's either one bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs, or two bedrooms downstairs and one bedroom upstairs. I'll get it right later.
The garage is a four-car garage, and there's a small room in the garage. Mom excitedly told us that the garage is bigger than our entire apartment. Well then, I'm ready right now! All I've got to do is see if I can get away with taking a few more books than I had intended. My 50-book collection is going, but as to the rest, only what I want to read so badly but haven't yet.
Dad had the job interview yesterday, and this morning at 10, they want him to come back and teach a lesson in Microsoft Word to 6th graders for 10 minutes. This is a big test for Dad, because for the past seven years, he's taught only 7th and 8th graders. But he can do it. Mom got him a proper shirt for the occasion from Kohl's at the Henderson Galleria mall. It was intended to be a Father's Day present, but Mom told us that Father's Day has been covered, since he didn't bring a shirt with him that would be appropriate for this. He didn't know that it was going to happen, so luckily he has Mom there.
They went to the house last night (I should say "condo", but considering how big it is, I'm calling it a house) and talked with the 89-year-old man who owns it, and is hard of hearing. He's selling it because his wife died not too long ago. She loved living in Las Vegas, and died four months after they moved to Boulder City. It's sad, but 89 years old, and however old his wife was, I attribute long living to Las Vegas. I feel happy about this great chance, nothing physically bothering me, and I know I'll flourish there.
Now here's where the comparison to living in Santa Clarita comes in: Mom and Dad left the house and not far out, the PT Cruiser started gushing coolant. We don't have a proper mechanic in Santa Clarita, certainly not the one Dad's used for all this time, and now realizes that he has to find a better one, who knows exactly what he or she is doing. Fortunately, the car started again, and since they were close enough, they went back to the house and asked the man if they could use his phone to call AAA. He agreed, and at the same time, his neighbor from across the street was making him dinner.
In Santa Clarita, no one would be that gracious to let you inside their house to use the phone. Here, you'd better be carrying your cell phone. And a neighbor making dinner for another neighbor? You mean, we have neighbors in this area? I thought those were just empty houses with lights that come on automatically at dusk and click off before midnight comes.
You will never find a neighbor making dinner for another neighbor like that, certainly not an elderly one. If they're old, there's the Santa Clarita Senior Center and a few senior living facilities around. Never will you find it like that here. And that kind, gentle act shows that we're finally moving to the right place.
So not only does Dad have the big teaching test this morning, but they're probably up right now to take the shuttle that Fiesta Henderson (where they're staying) provides to the nearest car rental facility, only a few blocks away. They'll tell me which one it is later. I keep thinking Hertz. I might be right. It sounds familiar.
(Addendum: I just talked to Mom. It's an Enterprise shuttle from Fiesta Henderson. We've used them before when the PT Cruiser has undergone repairs at that lack of a mechanic.)
This necessitates staying another night. With that test, and the car rental, and whatever else might transpire after the test, Mom doesn't want Dad driving back here today. We're fine. When we went food shopping on Friday and Saturday of last week, we made sure we got enough just in case this happened.
For Meridith and I, yesterday was quiet. Meridith cleaned out her closet, filled two bags with clothes she wants to donate to Goodwill, gave me a huge load and a half of laundry to put in the machine for her (I added to the second load the shirts I intend to wear this weekend), and then went to the other side of her room and began putting what she wanted to throw out into a black garbage bag and what she wanted to donate into a white garbage bag, which became three full white garbage bags. At the same time, she had 1220 AM on her radio, which is the "Hometown Station", as they call themselves, in Santa Clarita. Decent music in the afternoon, news often, and it kept up the quiet rhythm of her working in her room.
Meanwhile, I wandered between couch and computer. Right now is exactly how I started yesterday morning, with webcomics, with writing on my blog, with seeing if there's Advanced Reader Copies (ARCs) of books on abebooks.com which interest me. Nothing lately. I'm hoping there'll be ARCs of It's Classified by Nicolle Wallace, the sequel to her "Eighteen Acres" some time soon. It's coming out in September, which means it should be available as an ARC soon enough, if one of the sellers of ARCs that I like picks it up. Recently, I snatched up Harold: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain by Hal Holbrook, and that's being published in September, too. I was hoping that I'd find It's Classified soon enough, and have it to read on one of our future road trips to Las Vegas. I've already got one book ready to go for that purpose called On the Volcano by James Nelson, the author of The Trouble with Gumballs, which I loved, and you can see how much I love it (http://scrapsofliteracy.blogspot.com/2011/04/first-lines-from-books-i-love-2-trouble.html). It's Nelson's first novel and holding it yesterday, it felt like I should read it on the way first to the Grewal Travel Center rest stop in Baker, and then to Las Vegas. I'm also thinking that the biography I have of Diamond Jim Brady by H. Paul Jeffers. And I've also got all of Tessa Hadley's novels and short stories (I became hooked on her writing after reading a short story of hers in an issue of The New Yorker), so it's going to be a lot less difficult to figure out what to bring with me to read on a road trip. I used to bring a 20-pound bag of books with me on those trips. No more. I've become more efficient.
The arm of the couch holds White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, which I still have to finish, Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing, Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, a January/February 2011 issue of Saveur called "100: Chefs' Edition" in which chefs reveal their favorite things, foods, restaurants, ingredients, tips, etc. etc., and In Nevada: The Land, the People, God, and Chance by David Thomson. I still have the books I mentioned in a previous entry for that crash course ("The Final Library Holds"), and I might start on that today. There's still time. Not as much as years ago when the Valencia library was still fully connected to the County of Los Angeles system, but I'll make sure that I'll at least read The Sagebrush State: Nevada's History, Government, and Politics: Third Edition by Michael W. Bowers, to learn about the state's Constitution, and The Money and the Power: The Making of Las Vegas and Its Hold on America 1947-2000 by Sally Denton and Roger Morris, which I've wanted to read so badly ever since Las Vegas became a possibility, but never found the space for it in my immediate reading list. It has that space now.
Meridith worked on her room with breaks for lunch and dinner. Yep, all day yesterday. I was assigned to take the full white bags to the living room and the black garbage bag to our garbage bin at the curb. That arrangement worked for me.
Mom's insistent that Meridith get her nails done, especially to get her cuticles fully cleaned out, and there's a nail place that's a short walk from us, so she might do that today. I think I'll go with her, not to sit inside with all those fumes, but just to take a walk. I'll bring a book with me and wait outside, since it's supposed to be relatively warm today at 73 degrees. As to what else, I don't know. Reading is obvious, and I'm happy that Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune are on tonight, since they were pre-empted last night for game 1 of the NBA Finals, which I'm not watching very closely.
For me, it's enough that I have this time, which may be all I get before the militaristic regimen of moving begins. We've still got more things to throw away, to donate, and I've got to figure out exactly what I want to bring with me and get rid of, which will likely involve a few more DVDs.
This is the first time I've felt at peace with this apartment. I don't feel like I'm fighting it, like I used to, and I'm ready to let it go, because I never felt anything for it in the first place. Let it go to someone or a few people who can give it more than I ever could.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Run of the House: Day 1
Yesterday, a little after noon, Mom and Dad started out for Las Vegas and Henderson, what we fervently hope will finally be the promised land, a new life that lets us enjoy life instead of trying just to survive it day after day as it generally has been the seven years we've lived in the Santa Clarita Valley. They stopped at a McDonald's in Victorville, which Mom said was the dirtiest she had ever seen (Understandable, since Victorville is mostly for just passing through on the way to other places from Southern California), and at the Grewal Travel Center in Baker where they did get the weekend section of the Las Vegas Review-Journal (It's called "Neon", as I learned. I either must have not noticed before what it had been called or I forgot), but I'm still not sure if they got me a Las Vegas Weekly. There's plenty of time for that because first, I wouldn't expect to find it in Baker, just Neon, and secondly, it'll be somewhere in Las Vegas. And if they don't find it, well, with luck, I'll have a lot of years to enjoy it as a resident, and actually read it, not skim through it like I do with the L.A. Weekly, in which only a few pages each week interest me. Everything in the Las Vegas Weekly interests me. In the late afternoon, they reached Fiesta Henderson, where they're staying. Mom was keyed up about Villa Fresh Italian Kitchen, in the food court there (they also have a Denny's, a steakhouse, a Mexican cantina, and a casino buffet) because they sell pizza by the slice and she hasn't had that in years. However, Mom seemed a little disappointed on the phone when Meridith asked her about it. I'll get the full details either later today or when they get back.
Meanwhile, all this activity means that Meridith and I have the run of the house. But with responsibilities of course. Yesterday morning, even though it was the start of the week, I decided to laze about in my bed and watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, since I read Julie Dawn Cole's book, I Want It Now!, about the experience of making the film (She played Veruca Salt), and I wanted to see it again to remember the details she had revealed. Right now, having slept about an hour and 20 minutes longer than yesterday (The dogs woke me up at 5:55 to let them out in the back, but I told them to let me sleep a little longer. No luck since my body had had enough of sleeping, so I rested until 6:20, let them out, fed them, then went back to bed to read until a little after 7, when I have breakfast), I've determined that I'd rather leave movies in bed for the weekend. I didn't feel like it this morning. Sure I want to rewatch the entire series of The West Wing, with as much as I can take of seasons 5 and 6 (the worst of the series because the production team never really regrouped after Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme were fired. Of course without Sorkin, the show will nosedive in quality, but the only writer to come close to Sorkin was Debora Cahn, who wrote the late season 5 episode "The Supremes", which guest-starred Glenn Close and William Fichtner, and she let the series save face with that one and a few others she wrote, in order to let it stand up wobbly and then regain some footing for season 7), but I don't want to lay there for most of the morning.
Meridith wrote down a list of what Mom wanted us to do while they were gone. Dust Mom's bedside table, dust around their bedroom, pull weeds, throw out old food from the cabinets and from the counter at the right side of the oven (expired stuff), scrub the toilets, the microwave, the tubs, the mirrors; put lotion on Tigger and Kitty's pads, brush Tigger and Kitty, put the bug repellant on their necks (It's done every month), and clean their ears. Also on her list is to clean her room and her closet.
As soon as Mom and Dad left, I got out the broom, and the dustpan, and a white garbage bag, put on gloves and went out to the patio to sweep around there. Dead pine needles fall on our patio, and so do these red things that crumble into the pebbles when you touch them. They can be swept up, and I did just that, sweeping it all into one big pile. The whole thing, since it was only on one side, took about half an hour, but it was quite a round of exercise.
Meridith did the dusting while I was sweeping, we had lunch, and then we threw out the old food into a white garbage bag so we could put it in the bin. Usually, the bins are picked up on Tuesday, but because of Memorial Day, we were told that if we had pick up on Monday or Tuesday, it would be the day after. I decided to roll them out anyway just in case, because you never know with this garbage company.
Fortunately, the day wasn't all chores. I spent part of the day and evening reading Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I still intend to embark on that crash course in Nevada history, either later today or in the morning tomorrow, but yesterday just felt like a day to bask in loving writing about Southern food culture and traditions. I wish the Oxford American had a food issue every year, since I became hooked on it with the 2005 issue, but missed out on the 2010 issue since it was sold out.
Dinner was unique for Meridith and I. It'd been so long since we got dinner from anywhere in the immediate area, and the first thought was Pizza Hut's Ultimate Stuffed Crust pizza, with the toppings also inside the crust, but we found out that the Pizza Hut nearest to us doesn't do that, even though that concept has only been around for a few weeks. We thought about Papa John's, and Meridith called to ask something, and found out on the recording that they had a deal for a medium pizza, four 20-oz. drinks, 10 wings, and a dessert pie for $20.99. So that's what we did, and we walked there to pick it up. The pizza was good, the wings were, too, and that dessert pie (called a cinnapie, cinnamon all over, along with white icing) was fascinating. They must have used pizza dough for that, too, but it didn't taste like pizza dough usually does afterward. I liked it all, but was also reminded about why I don't do this often anymore. When I was overweight and didn't really care, I ate like that all the time. But now, I know I can't, and I felt it.
I also found out that I can walk the hill up to our place much easier. I didn't even notice the hill was there and my legs didn't hurt after we'd reached the top. That is a major, most welcome change.
Today, Tigger and Kitty have to get brushed, then we have to put that bug repellant stuff on their necks, clean their ears, and that's it for me. The whole list is done on my end, and Meridith has to clean her room and closet. I'll probably finish White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, along with some time for the rest of Cornbread Nation 1. It's my ideal day.
Meanwhile, all this activity means that Meridith and I have the run of the house. But with responsibilities of course. Yesterday morning, even though it was the start of the week, I decided to laze about in my bed and watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, since I read Julie Dawn Cole's book, I Want It Now!, about the experience of making the film (She played Veruca Salt), and I wanted to see it again to remember the details she had revealed. Right now, having slept about an hour and 20 minutes longer than yesterday (The dogs woke me up at 5:55 to let them out in the back, but I told them to let me sleep a little longer. No luck since my body had had enough of sleeping, so I rested until 6:20, let them out, fed them, then went back to bed to read until a little after 7, when I have breakfast), I've determined that I'd rather leave movies in bed for the weekend. I didn't feel like it this morning. Sure I want to rewatch the entire series of The West Wing, with as much as I can take of seasons 5 and 6 (the worst of the series because the production team never really regrouped after Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme were fired. Of course without Sorkin, the show will nosedive in quality, but the only writer to come close to Sorkin was Debora Cahn, who wrote the late season 5 episode "The Supremes", which guest-starred Glenn Close and William Fichtner, and she let the series save face with that one and a few others she wrote, in order to let it stand up wobbly and then regain some footing for season 7), but I don't want to lay there for most of the morning.
Meridith wrote down a list of what Mom wanted us to do while they were gone. Dust Mom's bedside table, dust around their bedroom, pull weeds, throw out old food from the cabinets and from the counter at the right side of the oven (expired stuff), scrub the toilets, the microwave, the tubs, the mirrors; put lotion on Tigger and Kitty's pads, brush Tigger and Kitty, put the bug repellant on their necks (It's done every month), and clean their ears. Also on her list is to clean her room and her closet.
As soon as Mom and Dad left, I got out the broom, and the dustpan, and a white garbage bag, put on gloves and went out to the patio to sweep around there. Dead pine needles fall on our patio, and so do these red things that crumble into the pebbles when you touch them. They can be swept up, and I did just that, sweeping it all into one big pile. The whole thing, since it was only on one side, took about half an hour, but it was quite a round of exercise.
Meridith did the dusting while I was sweeping, we had lunch, and then we threw out the old food into a white garbage bag so we could put it in the bin. Usually, the bins are picked up on Tuesday, but because of Memorial Day, we were told that if we had pick up on Monday or Tuesday, it would be the day after. I decided to roll them out anyway just in case, because you never know with this garbage company.
Fortunately, the day wasn't all chores. I spent part of the day and evening reading Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I still intend to embark on that crash course in Nevada history, either later today or in the morning tomorrow, but yesterday just felt like a day to bask in loving writing about Southern food culture and traditions. I wish the Oxford American had a food issue every year, since I became hooked on it with the 2005 issue, but missed out on the 2010 issue since it was sold out.
Dinner was unique for Meridith and I. It'd been so long since we got dinner from anywhere in the immediate area, and the first thought was Pizza Hut's Ultimate Stuffed Crust pizza, with the toppings also inside the crust, but we found out that the Pizza Hut nearest to us doesn't do that, even though that concept has only been around for a few weeks. We thought about Papa John's, and Meridith called to ask something, and found out on the recording that they had a deal for a medium pizza, four 20-oz. drinks, 10 wings, and a dessert pie for $20.99. So that's what we did, and we walked there to pick it up. The pizza was good, the wings were, too, and that dessert pie (called a cinnapie, cinnamon all over, along with white icing) was fascinating. They must have used pizza dough for that, too, but it didn't taste like pizza dough usually does afterward. I liked it all, but was also reminded about why I don't do this often anymore. When I was overweight and didn't really care, I ate like that all the time. But now, I know I can't, and I felt it.
I also found out that I can walk the hill up to our place much easier. I didn't even notice the hill was there and my legs didn't hurt after we'd reached the top. That is a major, most welcome change.
Today, Tigger and Kitty have to get brushed, then we have to put that bug repellant stuff on their necks, clean their ears, and that's it for me. The whole list is done on my end, and Meridith has to clean her room and closet. I'll probably finish White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, along with some time for the rest of Cornbread Nation 1. It's my ideal day.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Changed Dynamic
Every week, I have a set routine. Mondays through Fridays, I get up between 7 and 8 a.m., occasionally later than 8, and Mom's up long before that, so I say good morning and see if she needs anything. Then I have breakfast, always Cheerios and a banana. I'll probably deviate from that when I'm in Las Vegas with my folks, depending on if we stop at a 7-11.
Lately, Mom hasn't been on the computer in the living room before me, so I go on there, check my e-mail, read the DailyLit e-mails I get ("Poems of Emily Dickinson", stories about Abraham Lincoln, and "Many Thoughts from Many Minds", which is a 2,000+ collection of quotes that I use as a quote-a-day thing), visit MiceAge and Mouseplanet every Monday and occasionally during the week, also screamscape.com, themeparkreview.com, westcoaster.net, and I check the booksellers on abebooks.com who sell advanced reading copies of books. The latest one to come to me was Harold: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain, Hal Holbrook's autobiography. It's being published in September.
I've spent less than the three hours I used to spend on the computer in the morning because I don't have anything else to look at, anything to transcribe, and I'm not doing online research for my next books yet.
Lunch is always after 12 p.m., sometimes 12:30, the latest being 1. Then there's a lot more reading, and then after 5, I begin working on the Freelance Daily newsletter, which is always full of job listings. I get paid for this, so it's why I do it. Plus I can see what freelance jobs are being offered and if any relate to me. Not lately.
Weekends are different. The dogs wake me up to let them out to the patio to do their business, then I feed them, have breakfast, and go back to my room to watch a movie or two. Those are the only days I watch movies now, save for this week, with all the movies I recorded on the Tivo from all those channels that included the Showtime package, the Sundance Channel, and the Documentary Channel. Saturdays and Sundays are always more relaxed because the routine is more relaxed. It'll no doubt change after we move, because I'll be in pursuit of a full-time job, and that's fine. A new life, a new routine.
Because the school year is over and Dad and Meridith are home, the routine changes. Do I watch movies in the weekday mornings? Do I keep to what I always do? I may do the former tomorrow morning, but to finish the episode of The West Wing I was watching, the one from season 3 with the missing nuclear submarine, which guest-starred Hal Holbrook. Mom and Dad are going to be more rushed than I am, since they're looking to leave for Las Vegas and noon. And then on Tuesday and Wednesday, what? Well, lots of reading for one thing. I want to finish reading White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, since I've spent some time away from it and can now approach it more relaxed, since I broke that routine of researching all the time.
But movies on Tuesday and Wednesday morning, too? I can't really think of anything I'd want to watch, anything that I feel that pull for like I do for a few of the movies on the Tivo. So I'll just watch in the living room instead of my bedroom. Meridith will likely sleep later than I do, so I've got a few hours to myself. I like that.
Breakfast, lunch and dinnertime will all remain the same, but I like the change I feel, the opportunity to spend the day differently. You keep a routine in the Santa Clarita Valley just to feel sane with the isolated feeling this valley gives off. A routine in Las Vegas is just so you have the chance to experience everything around you and not miss a thing.
Lately, Mom hasn't been on the computer in the living room before me, so I go on there, check my e-mail, read the DailyLit e-mails I get ("Poems of Emily Dickinson", stories about Abraham Lincoln, and "Many Thoughts from Many Minds", which is a 2,000+ collection of quotes that I use as a quote-a-day thing), visit MiceAge and Mouseplanet every Monday and occasionally during the week, also screamscape.com, themeparkreview.com, westcoaster.net, and I check the booksellers on abebooks.com who sell advanced reading copies of books. The latest one to come to me was Harold: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain, Hal Holbrook's autobiography. It's being published in September.
I've spent less than the three hours I used to spend on the computer in the morning because I don't have anything else to look at, anything to transcribe, and I'm not doing online research for my next books yet.
Lunch is always after 12 p.m., sometimes 12:30, the latest being 1. Then there's a lot more reading, and then after 5, I begin working on the Freelance Daily newsletter, which is always full of job listings. I get paid for this, so it's why I do it. Plus I can see what freelance jobs are being offered and if any relate to me. Not lately.
Weekends are different. The dogs wake me up to let them out to the patio to do their business, then I feed them, have breakfast, and go back to my room to watch a movie or two. Those are the only days I watch movies now, save for this week, with all the movies I recorded on the Tivo from all those channels that included the Showtime package, the Sundance Channel, and the Documentary Channel. Saturdays and Sundays are always more relaxed because the routine is more relaxed. It'll no doubt change after we move, because I'll be in pursuit of a full-time job, and that's fine. A new life, a new routine.
Because the school year is over and Dad and Meridith are home, the routine changes. Do I watch movies in the weekday mornings? Do I keep to what I always do? I may do the former tomorrow morning, but to finish the episode of The West Wing I was watching, the one from season 3 with the missing nuclear submarine, which guest-starred Hal Holbrook. Mom and Dad are going to be more rushed than I am, since they're looking to leave for Las Vegas and noon. And then on Tuesday and Wednesday, what? Well, lots of reading for one thing. I want to finish reading White House Diary by Jimmy Carter, since I've spent some time away from it and can now approach it more relaxed, since I broke that routine of researching all the time.
But movies on Tuesday and Wednesday morning, too? I can't really think of anything I'd want to watch, anything that I feel that pull for like I do for a few of the movies on the Tivo. So I'll just watch in the living room instead of my bedroom. Meridith will likely sleep later than I do, so I've got a few hours to myself. I like that.
Breakfast, lunch and dinnertime will all remain the same, but I like the change I feel, the opportunity to spend the day differently. You keep a routine in the Santa Clarita Valley just to feel sane with the isolated feeling this valley gives off. A routine in Las Vegas is just so you have the chance to experience everything around you and not miss a thing.
Do These New Scents Portend a Hoped-For New Life?
Maybe it's the onset of summer, or maybe I just never paid attention until now. Our garage, which smelled like my paternal grandparents' garage in Paramus, New Jersey--a musty gray smell that included not only their car, but also the metal tracks of the garage door, the big freezer, a few tools, and that concrete floor that got cold enough at night--no longer has that scent. It smells as if it's freshening up, the high winds of recent days pushing wisps through the small screens at the bottom, near the door in the back. I never recall it smelling like that at any other time. Does this place anticipate our intentions? Does it know that Mom and Dad are off to Vegas on Monday afternoon for that job interview on Tuesday? Is it aware of the success that will likely come in this venture and therefore is propping itself up for prospective new owners?
I hope that's what it means. I certainly feel differently. I no longer occasionally feel trapped by the patio walls, looking over at the community pool behind one of those walls, thinking that that's the only poetry to be found here, those empty chairs framed around the pool, one of the tables on the other side, near the bathrooms. I feel at peace with the place, no more conflict. I can let it go. I can forget and concentrate on what I've wanted for so long, what will finally happen. Meridith reminded me that one of the Henderson library branches is inside a mall. It's true. And since there are no polling stations in Henderson, voting also happens at the two malls in the area. I've wanted to live in a unique area so badly. And this fits my definition.
I feel no regret at giving up the DVDs I must, giving up the books I must give up in order to move with relatively fewer things. I know there are libraries there, and used bookstores there, and I know that I will find new authors there that I never thought about here. I am ready for my room to belong to someone else. I spent more time outside it than inside it anyway. It was painted particular shades of blue, the walls painted sky blue, the door painted a dark blue, but that's all I had that was me. I have framed prints by Chris Consani of Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart, and James Dean together at a coffee bar and in a movie theater. I never got to hang those up. No room. I'll finally have that chance and my new room will finally be mine, will bear all the hallmarks of my personality. I can seek out bookshelves and finally place my books on those; no more boxes as bookshelves. I can feel settled, content, ready to explore every facet of my new home, inside and outside.
I think this apartment feels the same way. We'll have a gracious parting, and then new people can move in, who I hope will love it more than I ever did. It deserves that after these seven years. Maybe it'll have someone or a few people who love Saugus as much as I love Las Vegas. These walls should have that.
I hope that's what it means. I certainly feel differently. I no longer occasionally feel trapped by the patio walls, looking over at the community pool behind one of those walls, thinking that that's the only poetry to be found here, those empty chairs framed around the pool, one of the tables on the other side, near the bathrooms. I feel at peace with the place, no more conflict. I can let it go. I can forget and concentrate on what I've wanted for so long, what will finally happen. Meridith reminded me that one of the Henderson library branches is inside a mall. It's true. And since there are no polling stations in Henderson, voting also happens at the two malls in the area. I've wanted to live in a unique area so badly. And this fits my definition.
I feel no regret at giving up the DVDs I must, giving up the books I must give up in order to move with relatively fewer things. I know there are libraries there, and used bookstores there, and I know that I will find new authors there that I never thought about here. I am ready for my room to belong to someone else. I spent more time outside it than inside it anyway. It was painted particular shades of blue, the walls painted sky blue, the door painted a dark blue, but that's all I had that was me. I have framed prints by Chris Consani of Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart, and James Dean together at a coffee bar and in a movie theater. I never got to hang those up. No room. I'll finally have that chance and my new room will finally be mine, will bear all the hallmarks of my personality. I can seek out bookshelves and finally place my books on those; no more boxes as bookshelves. I can feel settled, content, ready to explore every facet of my new home, inside and outside.
I think this apartment feels the same way. We'll have a gracious parting, and then new people can move in, who I hope will love it more than I ever did. It deserves that after these seven years. Maybe it'll have someone or a few people who love Saugus as much as I love Las Vegas. These walls should have that.
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