the pieces of my life

The Biggest Geek in America

I was wondering why Adam was so happily willing to pack up in the basement. He didn’t even ask, just ran downstairs and began working. But then I went down and saw that he hooked up his computer down there so he can listen to the Red Sox game over the Internet. Big geek.

We’re going home today, we’re going home! Yeah! I’m so excited to start getting stuff done again. We did go to Sherwin Williams yesterday to start looking at colors (how excited was I when I saw they carry Martha Stewart colors!). We signed the purchase and sale agreement on the house and put down 10%. Now we have to finalize the mortgage and do lots of nitpicky stuff (utilities, DSL, phones, etc.) while packing up and shutting things off at home. I’ve even already changed my zip code in amy Amazon.com Movie Showtimes so that it displays Arlington/Boston movies. We’re getting closer… Although I still don’t know what we’re going to do for those 10 days. We’re back to thinking maybe we will drive across country in his car and do a little sightseeing.

The heat is unbearable. I’m completely antsy without a routine, without a schedule. Tomorrow we head back to Seattle and I’m anxious to start packing and to get a move on things. I do not do well idle. Speaking of idle, still have no idea what Adam and I are going to do for the 10 days between our Seattle house closing and our Boston house closing. I don’t think I can handle another week and a half of just sitting around waiting. We’ve scoped out Home Depot and Sears and are ready to jump into our house projects… if only we could get into our house.

The Curse of the Bambino

I truly hadn’t thought there was anything more boring than a Seattle Mariners game. Until I went to a Boston Red Sox game….

• At least at Safeco Field, should the desire strike me, I could watch the game. I would look up from my seat, and see the game. At Fenway, when I looked up, I had a perfect view of the rotating billboard (Mach 3 razors, Power Strip on Right Guard, and Duracell Copper Tops, in case you were wondering). If I leaned forward in my seat and twisted my body completely to the left, I could sort of see the game.
  
• At Safeco if you couldn’t see what was going on, you could pick a monitor and watch it. At Fenway, there was one monitor so you could either see the line-up or the score or the action, but never all at once.
  
• No flash. No fancy boards that read “Edgar is good” (or “Nomar is good” as the case may be).
  
• At Safeco, there’s room in your seat for you to sit with a little wiggle room. At Fenway, your leg is plastered to the guy next to you and there’s no where to put a jacket or a purse if you’re not holding it in your lap.
  

Of course, it didn’t help that Adam forced me to eat an entire bag of cotton candy. Bleah. Felt sick all afternoon. And there’s no sushi at Fenway. What kind of baseball stadium doesn’t serve sushi? Luckily, I had Mine Hunt on my Handspring, so the day wasn’t a complete loss. I did get pretty good at the “difficult” level.

The Curse of the Pimpmobile

Story from last week that I never got around to telling. It’s the tale of a car gone mad, the hideous story of a vehicle out for revenge. Now, I’m not saying the pimpmobile is possessed or anything, but the facts are: 1) the car was owned by my grandmother with whom I have gone in and out of favor with over the years 2) the car obviously hates me.

Adam and I are driving along Route 1A on our way to Swampscott for a party extraordinaire. This is a former coworker of Adam’s who now lives in San Fran, but his folks are still out here, and they hold an annual party on July 3. Adam’s friend and his girlfriend are also out, as an added bonus, so we’re psyched to go. We leave Natick, MA, at 6:43 p.m. It is a one-hour drive. At 7:17 p.m., in the Callahan Tunnel, I say to Adam, “What’s that noise?” It’s a flap-flap-flap-flap-flap noise. It slows down when we slow down. “Hmmm, must be something in the trunk that’s rustling.” Drive a little farther. At 7:21 p.m., I ask, “Is that noise getting louder?” At 7:23 p.m. I pull into the Wonderland Marketplace in Revere, MA, with a flat tire flatter than… (well, insert your own derogatory remark about someone you know. I was thinking about picking on Sandra, but I will let the moment pass). No problem. Adam can fix a flat. True, he’s never fixed a flat before, but it’s simple! And we have a full-sized spare. Except…

This is the pimpmobile. She’s not called the pimpmobile for nothing. The pimpmobile has custom tires with wheel covers. Gold wheel covers. And the wheel covers are screwed on. With a screw obviously put in with an air drill by the Toyota service folks who aligned my tires. A stripped screw obviously put in with an air drill. It ain’t budging. At 7:29 p.m., the call goes in to AAA (man, have we gotten our money’s worth this year).

We wait. And wait. And wait. Big burly men come by and try to help, convinced that they can overpower the screw. They can’t. They slink off in defeat. A white-trash girl drives into the lot, a boy jumps out screaming, “Have a nice life, you piece of shit,” and begins running with all his might. The girl hauls out of the car, yells, “Get your fucking ass back here!” and tears after him. 8:04 p.m. Triple A calls. They can’t find us. They’ll be there in a minute. Adam and I begin trying to flag down any pickup that looks remotely like a tow truck. Only in Revere, where they raise trucks and add lights, that’s every pickup.

At 8:24 p.m. I call back. “Oh, right. They’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

8:35 p.m., the surliest tow truck driver comes by. Gets up to the tire, snorts at Adam, and then goes at the screw. At 8:37, he gives up. Mumbles, “Gotta go back to the shop for tools.” At 8:42, he returns with a drill and by 8:45 our spare is in place. Adam uses the Huggie wipes in the road pack my friends made me (and I laughed at them! Very useful thing!), and off we got to Swampscott.

Or so we think. This being the 3rd of July, there are fireworks. (Okay, so this sentence makes no sense to me. Everywhere that I’ve been, fireworks have been on the 4th of July. Not around the 4th of July. What is with this place?). Our directions take us right by the beach. Which is blocked off. For fireworks. From Revere, MA, to Swampscott, MA (which by the way, is a cool name. Try saying it with me. Swampscott. Swampscott. Nice flow), is about 10 or 15 minutes. If there are no fireworks. If you don’t get lost.

I’ll skip the three phone calls for directions. I’ll skip the waitingwaitingwaitingwaitingwaiting in traffic. I’ll forget our hunger and fatigue because our day was so busy all we’d had was Dunkin Donuts and coffee.

Finally, at 10:42 p.m. we arrive at the bbq that started at 7 p.m. Bless Marc for putting more ribs on the grill for us and handing me that beer.

Moral of the story: No custom tires. No locked lug nuts. No not eating all day. And most of all, that car HATES me!

The low-point of my marriage. Actual conversation while walking down the streets of Portsmouth:

J: Rub my neck.

A. starts to massage neck.

J: Sometimes I worry that you’ll hit my Vulcan point, and I’ll just collapse on the street.

A: It’s not a Vulcan point, it’s a Vulcan grip.

J: Maybe it’s a combination of the grip and the point.

A: It’s not the point; it’s Vulcans who know how to do the grip.

J: Really?

A: Can we please not have this conversation ever again?

So it seems all of New England is in mourning today. The front page of The Boston Globe is all Ted Williams. I feel very disconnected since a) I’m not truly a Red Sox fan (but please don’t tell Adam) and b) I find baseball to be berry, berry boring (does anyone remember that sketch besides my father?). We are going to see a game tomorrow, which I’m looking forward to even less since Adam told me that Fenway is probably the most uncomfortable stadium ever. Joy. The best baseball news I heard today was that there may be another baseball strike.

Spoke for a while with the family currently living in our new house. Really, really interesting folks. As I said to Adam, it’s a shame they’re the ones moving because they’d be really cool neighbors to have. They’ve been in Uzbekistan for the past six years, coming home during the summers. Their son lives in the house now. They have elementary- and junior-high-aged kids who live with them. Speak great Russian apparently.

I finished reading Mike Daisey’s 21 Dog Years: Doing Time @ Amazon.com . It really wasn’t as harsh on Amazon as it was on Daisey. Basically, this guy worked for a couple of years at Amazon, first in CS and then in Biz Dev. He was a slacker before he got to Amazon and he was a slacker while at Amazon. A very fast read. Not worth buying though. Happy to lend it to anyone who would like to read it. The most interesting part is there’s a decent-sized riff on this guy “Catch” who is obviously Scott (big legendary parties for 300+ people; starting an Internet dog food company in his apartment on the side). So it might be worth reading for anyone who knows him. I didn’t recognize anyone else in the book (well, except for Jeff and Risher who were named by name).

Hanging in Portsmouth right now at Adam’s parents place. It’s quite beautiful up here. A lot nicer than when I was here in December in one of the coldest stretches I’d ever experienced.

I’ve been really bad about keeping my notebook with me. Throughout the day I think, “Oh, I’ll have to put that in my blog,” but I, of course, always forget. When I get settled, I want to redesign my page. After using so many different computers, I notice that my home page appears really different in different browsers. I like Eugene’s blog’s redesign a bunch. I’ll have to play around. When I have free time, of course. Or should I say If. By the way, it was pointed out that I don’t have a link to Adam’s blog in here. On my main page I have a link to his main page, but I think most people link straight to this blog. So, feel free to dive into his blog to get his side of things. I’ll add a link here eventually.

If you’ve been having trouble getting to the blog, it’s us, not you. Our server location is changing, which caused (will cause? is causing?) some downtime.

Right now I’m killing time in the Natick library waiting for Adam to get in. Last night I killed time by going to a movie. Anywere indoors. Today it’s supposed to hit 96 degrees. Anyway, as I told Adam, there are lots of things that are forgivable. But some, some are completely unforgivable. Moving me to Boston. Forgivable. Launching me into a job search. Forgivable. Making certain movies off-limits so I’m forced to see Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisters. Unforgivable. I blame Sandra for putting the thought into my head that it would be a decent movie. What was I thinking, taking recommendations from Sandra? That is my own fault. Anyway, I figure someone owes me $9, I’m just not sure who.

House inspection today at 1 p.m. Feeling a little nervous about showing the place to Adam. I’m not sure why I should be concerned: he’s too easygoing to not like it.

My new home away from Kinko’s: the Natick public library. Would be great, except there’s a time limit on the machines and the librarian is a beast.

The weather right now? A balmy 92 degrees. I’ve pretty much given up the idea of running. Doesn’t seem to ever cool off. Once Adam gets here and things settle a little more (and this headache goes away), perhaps I’ll start again. Speaking of Adam, he’s busy trying to have his last day of work, only I’ve been calling him every five minutes with more errands he needs to get done before he flies out tonight. And of course, he’s taking a super shuttle, which means he’ll need to leave about three hours early. Good thing he’s an expert multitasker.

Doing this on Netscape, which is too different. I like my old IE much better.

The drivers out here suck big time. When they want to make a left turn, the cross into the middle of the street and just hang out. Or, better, they stick their arms out the window in a “stop” signal to the ongoing traffic. Everyone does it. Annoying.

I had an informational interview with someone yesterday. I told him how disappointed I was that I didn’t get a number in the New York marathon. “You should run the Boston marathon!” I told him I could never qualify for it. He shook his head. “Not a problem. You want to run the marathon, you let me know. I can get you a number.” Whoo hoo! Making friends in the right places.

Tomorrow is the house inspection. Hope it all goes well. Did I mention why the folks are selling their house? They’re missionaries… and they’re going to Uzbekistan! And here I thought they were Jewish, with their Hebrew-English dictionaries and their Star of David on the fridge and their Semitic-sounding last name. On third look around the house I noticed the New Testament sayings and the bible study awards. No wonder they didn’t mind leaving the porch swing behind! Uzbekistan does not seem like the place to drink lemonade on the porch swing.