Now Playing -
Evita. Yeah, with Madonna. Wish they'd cast someone who could sing the hell out of that score.
Now Eating -
Yodels.
Now Feeling -
congested.
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
You may attempt to sing the title of this entry to the tune of "Brand New Key" by the other lovely, talented Melanie. And no, I�m not named after her.
Yes, I�m now the proud owner of a very cute pair of Earth shoes. Got 'em on sale, too. And they are red, as shown, so just call me the hippie Moira Shearer.
And the new ATM card. Mine was due to expire at the end of last month. So the beginning of last month came, and went, and...no card. And they usually send them so early it's all you can do not to activate it immediately. "Ooh, look! New card, new card! It's all bright and shiny and unscathed, and I must activate it and buy me some STUFF!" Because one always needs more stuff.
So it was getting perilously close to the end of the month and still no card. And since I'm the "money manageress" in our family, this lack of card was about to put a serious crimp in my financial style. I called the bank a week before, and spoke to someone who...well, let's just say she didn't inspire much confidence. Her command of the English language did not inspire much confidence either. I seriously suspect she was not even a native of this planet. So the time tumbles by, and it's two days before the expiration date, and still (say it with me now) NO CARD. So I call the bank again, and speak with the lovely, the talented Alexander, who tells me that no, he doesn't even see a record of my new card being ordered. Thanks, Clueless Alien from Outer Space. But Alexander says he will put in an order right now, and he will overnight my card and I will have it by Friday the 31st, and he will put a hold on my old one so it will not go all defunct before the new one arrives, and he just sounds so competent and helpful I can't help but believe him. My trust was not misplaced. And...AND I now have the COOLEST ATM CARD IN THE WORLD! It's blue, and transparent!!! I can see through my ATM card! It's amazing how easily amused I am.
Had my grandmother's ring appraised. Mom realized it was probably her grandmother's ring, because she believes my aunt has my grandmother's engagement ring. The appraisal sort of confirmed that, as the center diamond is an old mine cut diamond probably from the 1880s. The two flanking it are old European cut diamonds that are slightly "younger," and the remaining ones are single cut diamonds. All in all, he thought it made for a pretty interesting ring. That I still would like to have redesigned.
Came home Wednesday and found a check on the kitchen table. For $95,242.50. Unfortunately, it was not made out to me. Somehow, a check from a very large ad agency in NYC to a television station in CA got bundled in with our mail, and Huz opened it, no doubt wondering what the hell it was. Day-um, that's a lot of money. Dad called not long after, and I told him about it. He suggested I send it back with a note enclosed, which had already occurred to me. And Mom's in the background, yelling "She won't do it!" And Huz came home and suggested the same thing. The next day at work, I googled the name of the CEO, and dashed off a short note:
Enclosed please find a check that was mistakenly delivered to my address yesterday.Though my husband and I are "starving artists" (I am an actor and he is a musician) and would have certainly appreciated the money, we think it best that the check should reach its intended recipient. I'm sure K*** would prefer an intact envelope as well.
My headshot and resume are available upon request.
I was proctoring an exam Friday afternoon when The Partner in Crime appeared at the door to tell me Huz had called. The CFO from the agency had called and left a message at home. Unfortunately, he was out of his office when I returned his call, so we'll have to wait until tomorrow to put a capper on this little tale. Hmmm...a reward? A voiceover job? Print ads? Probably just a thank-you, but at least I got an anecdote out of it.
Damn, I miss having a dishwasher. We had one in the old apartment, and I grew up with one. Huz never had one growing up, but he certainly managed to get spoiled by the one we had. We have a tiny galley kitchen now. No room for one. So the dishes pile up very quickly. And finding the time/energy to do 'em is difficult. I've done dishes at four in the morning, when I couldn't sleep and was sick to death of the mess. I just finished washing glassware. I had let one of the glasses soak overnight, because when I looked at it yesterday, there was [Thomas Dolby]Science![/Thomas Dolby] happening. And not Weird Science. Bad Science. That not even boiling water could flush out. Bleach was required. Which brings me to one of those Great Marital Quandaries: Differing Definitions of "Clean". In Huz�s home, there was a plastic bin kept in the sink, ostensibly for soaking dirty dishes. When we moved to this dishwasherless apartment, I figured, "Hey, we'll get the big plastic bin, and at least we'll be able to pre-soak the dishes so they�ll clean more easily." But no. Huz does not use the bin for soaking. If I soak things in it, he will empty the water out and allow the still-dirty contents to air dry. Which is so effective in cleaning. I'm left pondering the reasoning behind the plastic bin. Maybe it's some Vulcan mind-f*ck to trick me into doing the damn dishes before [Thomas Dolby]Science![/Thomas Dolby] happens. Or Huz breaks down and does them himself. Whichever comes first. Ah, mawidge.
Speaking of mawidge, our fifth anniversary was November 1st, and it was lovely. We had dinner here, and that was lovely. And returned home, and that was lovely as well, if you get my meaning. ~^ And then we passed out, our hearts warm and bellies full. Quite.
Cleaning idiosyncrasies aside, he's still pretty incredible, that husband of mine. Think I'll keep him.
Repotted Phil O'Dendron today. Cut back his roots and everything. Lord, I hope I did it right. If he should die after six years as a result of good intentions and not benign neglect (such as the Summer of Not Enough Water or the Spring We Put Him Out Before the Last Frost), I�d never forgive myself.
Still sick. The thing in my chest seems to want to migrate north to my nose. Had an utterly pointless voice lesson on Friday, during which I belted like Elaine Stritch in an iron lung, and soprano�d like Darlene Edwards. Not pretty.
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a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
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