Maintaining Ties

In a time of ancient gods...or perhaps just ancient customers, it is in my best interests to maintain links to the UK. The US doesn't fully want me yet, or at least they don't know they do. They panic when I get a little too close, and demand "space."

Not to fret; I can be...persuasive *pops on little black number and a tango mix-tape*.

So I maintain these ties, through keeping a house over there, bank accounts, and of course a driving license. Said driving license expires on the 24th of this month. I don't have to do anything special to renew it, just mail back a form and a pretty picture of yours truly. No retaking test, or fancy jumping through hoops or anything like that, right. Right?

Wrong.

Well, half wrong. I don't have to retake the test. Which is a good thing, because I'm certain I'd get all confuzzled and forget which side of the road to drive on. I had a panic tonight as I realized I'd forgotten the British way of writing the date. Bah.

As it turns out, the Brits and Americans are once more two countries divided by a common language when it comes to passport photos. British dimensions are not quite as simple as their old 2 by 2 American counterpart. Not one, not two, but four stores I went to on my lunch hour today refused to accommodate such an unruly request. Finally, I sweet-talked my way into a JC Penney clerk's knickers. I mean, photography studio. *cough* I think I have a date on Friday.

Knowing that I don't have much time in which to organize all this (as a typical Greening, I have known the license was expiring for months, but am as usual late to the party), I race home and start filling out the forms. Second panic of the day: The D1 or the D798? Which one am I supposed to complete? Bah! Typical British, you wait months for a form, and two come along at once. So I narrow it down to the D1 (mostly because I had previously started to complete the D798 in blue ink, and that simply won't do), and start scribbling furiously. Finished, I read the checklist of items.

Check for £20
Green counterpart license
Photocard licence

Panic number three. £20? What's that in dollars? Does it matter anyway? The DVLA won't take an American check. Crap. Do I still have a British checkbook? By this point, Alice has flown into the bedroom and is hiding under the bed from her crazy Mum who is ransacking the study. Victory! Oh me oh my, I still have the good old HSBC checkbook. Can I remember how to complete an English check? Sod it, I'll fudge it.

Green counterpart license. OK, I've seen that somewhere. Recently. Ish. Like, within the last...four years? Balls. *ransack ransack* Huzzah! There it is in the filing cabinet, neatly filed under "Stuff." How accurate and quaint.

Photocard license. I've got this, no problem. Wait. Oh, that's just bloody marvelous. I simply had to go and get myself a new wallet a couple of months ago. A slimmer model. One that doesn't contain all the unnecessary "STUFF" that I don't use on a daily basis. Like my UK photocard license. Now...if you were an insane, famished British gal, where would you have put your old wallet? In a flash of godknowswhat, I remember that I think I heard it fall down the back of the dresser about a month ago. Why yes, there it is!

OK, it's 6:30pm. Into the car I run, off to locate the only post office within a fifty mile radius to stay open past 5pm on a weekday. Small aside: What the hell, USPS? People don't work? C'mon already. I arrive at the wee place, and...c'mon, if you had to guess people. You've been following this story. You know how it ends.

Ha, they weren't closed. Those who guessed 'closed,' go directly to jail and do not collect £200. Or $200. Or anything. Sorry, not feeling particularly generous today. BUT, they did have a new system in place.

"Damned computers," the woman behind the register mutters. "Don't know why we need them in the first place. So much simpler without." Right, yes dear, you're 100% correct, now hand over the keyboard and mouse and nobody gets hurt. What? Not supposed to utter those words in a federal building? Whoops.

Together, we fuddle our way through the new system, trying to figure out how to express mail something internationally, when she reaches the Province question. "Which province is it, dear?"

Wales, I think. What? Wales isn't in there? OK...try South Glamorgan. Now look for Swansea. It's not there? Hmmmm...that's strange. OK, maybe it's Mid Glamorgan. Not there either? Hmmm... *pulls out Blackberry and starts typing furiously* West Glamorgan. Well now, that doesn't seem familiar at all, but whatever, it works. Did I mention I lived in Swansea for 2 years? Finally, my package is in the mail, my wallet is $27.95 lighter, and it will arrive on Wednesday. The day before the deadline.

And now, I'm off to stare at the ceiling for many hours. Because my life cannot handle this much excitement. DO YOU HEAR ME UNIVERSE? STOP IT!

Not Endorsed by Anyone

Am I the only person who hates the use of the word 'Indorsement?' I was only just informed of its legitimate status as a word today. Upon Googling it, I expected to see a myriad of sites dedicated to just how stupid this word is, but apparently I am alone in my diagnosis. As I type this, it is harshly underlined in red. Google agrees with me. So long as the conglomerate that will someday run the entire world agrees with me, I'm happy. But seriously, we should ban it.

Heck, we as a human race is banning stupider words...

Potential Return

Hi all,

I know, I know, I've been freakishly absent. The truth is, I have so many stories to tell, but I guess I slipped into a bit of a depression back there, because I didn't think they were worth you listening to. Anyway, I'm working on getting out of the funk, and the first step of that was to actually sign into the blog for the first time in over a month.

So I return. And in this order, I will bestow upon you the stories of:

• The Korean seafood/beef platter


• The incessant Sarah Palin dreams


• The highs of actually having insurance now...


• ...and the lows of seeing my old doctor


• Our foray (Oh sweet Jesus, I just wrote fourway.) into the Blackberry lifestyle.

There might even be a story in there about Easy Bake Ovens. If you ask nice.

You stopped listening when I said fourway, didn't you? Gutterheads!

For now, I must bid you adieu, although I have not warranted this favor. Last night, I spent forty-five minutes on the deck finishing up Jeffrey Deaver's Roadside Crosses, and became mozzie-chum. Damn wee beasties. I'm all covered in lumps and bumps, and it's taking every last bit of will power (with which I am not particularly blessed) not to scratch off my own legs. Perhaps I will have Alice do it for me.

Today's WordOfTheDay: Scat: (noun)

1) dispersed feces or dung of wild carnivorous animals.

2) what was left in the ladies toilet stall that I walked into today.

I wanted to call the MonsterHunters on the discovery channel to investigate, but honestly, I'm pretty certain I could track the beast myself.

The toilets are the auto-flush kind, so it leads me to believe that what I saw was actually the remnants of what was there prior - and that thought haunts me.

What BUGS Me...

...are people who don't show up. DO NOT have your company ignore me for 5 days, then blow off the appointment you finally make when I took a half day of my own personal time off from work to sit here and wait for you.
Disrespectful little maggots who will feel my earthly wrath. You've remained nameless until now as I've given your company the chance at redemption. After today - the gloves are off.

When you run out of options, scream like a girl.

{Warning - a bit long...}
I'm laid back these days. So much so that people who knew me once upon a time really can't believe it's me. I attribute it to the meditation and my work on moving forward in my Buddhist practice and beliefs. This week, however, tested the gentle, calm waters that had been lapping at my feet and I must confess - I failed. At this point, I pretty much peed in the proverbial waters.

My central air conditioning has been in the process of being installed for quite some time now. There have been obstacles at every turn of this project, including random walls inside other walls that block the vents, odd sized openings for the returns, odd sized beams in the walls. The guy doing it is wonderful. Patient and so very 110% on the job. It's actually not his fault, but between the need to get custom made parts, plus waiting for other ordered pieces, waiting on the a/c people to show up to hook up the chemicals, dealing with the electrician to upgrade my electric and a hundred other things - it's drawn out over 6 weeks now. It's the middle of July and it's not in yet! As of today, the downstairs unit is working, however there are 2 vents not functioning at 100% and he's trying to figure out what convoluted reason there is for this. He's hoping to have the upstairs system finished and functioning by tomorrow morning, ending the a/c drama. Then we're extracting the wall a/c and patching the wall in the living room. I can't wait for that!

Second reason I am becoming more and more neurotic - Spiders. I will repeat the first section of this post - I am a gentle and calm person. I am a practicing Buddhist. I try to harm no living creature. I am not the biggest fan of spiders. I can handle them for the most part - scoop them unto some type of paper object and "assist" them in relocating to an area outside of my home. That makes it fine for me and everyone lives. It's a win-win. My problem started after my brother in law was bitten in his yard by a Brown Recluse Spider.


After seeing him go through the painful, nasty, leaky, flesh-destroying mess of a month in the hospital I have lost a lot of love for the species as a whole. Fear will do that. So, I enlisted the services of professional preventative pest control in an environmentally friendly way. I was pleased with myself and the steps I took to create a barrier for my home so I would not kill something in a reaction.

This seemed to fail, however, when the other night I saw about 2 dozen tiny little specks of spiders on my kitchen ceiling. Most were just milling about. Some were practicing the art of descending on their webs. They must have just been hatched or birthed or whatever the proper term would be. I caught 2 in a zip lock bag (that I'm venting daily to keep alive to show the pest guy to determine what they are before I let them go. The rest I swept off the ceiling and out the door. Within 20 minutes, there were a dozen more in the exact spot I had just cleared. I was beside myself. My sweetie cannot abide anything creepy or crawly, so I had to reassure her while trying hard not to panic myself while visions of the little bastards doing kamikaze missions into my ears and mouth while I'm sleeping crept into my head. I kept clearing them out. I fear some of them may have perished while I swept them out. They were tiny and difficult to track. The next day, several more were in the kitchen on in the same area of the ceiling. I tried to remove them in the same way. This has continued from Friday through the time of this posting. At first sight - I called my new pest friends. They were gone, but the corporate office assured me that they were processing my request for immediate service and gave me a reference number for when my branch called me the next morning to come out. I felt a little relief. The next morning, no call. Late morning - no call. I called them, no answer - not even a machine. It's a nationwide corporation. No machine? I called that night and Sunday, still battling the waves of little fuckers. I gave up on my branch and called corporate again. They gave me a new reference number and apologized and said the branch manager would contact me first thing this morning. At that count, I had banished over 40 of them. 40. Think about 40 tiny little spiders crawling in your home. How would you feel? I felt helpless. And they were RIGHT OVER MY SINK AND STOVE AND COUNTER!! Try thinking about making dinner now.

No call this morning. I called them. Rudeness and ignorance abounded. I countered with as much loving kindness as I could muster. I was informed the branch manager was not coming in today. I was also informed that they could try to fit me in on maybe Friday. Friday? That would make it an entire week from my first contact. Unacceptable behaviour! She said she'd call me back if they could fit me in and hung up. I immediately called corporate back. I told them I didn't want another reference number, as I already have two and they do no good. The woman I spoke to was patient and listened to what I had to say. I remained calm and explained the situation. She pulled up my account and saw my contacts and attempted contacts. She placed me on hold and made a conference call with me, my branch and herself. She introduced herself to them and said she'd wait on the line while they made an appropriate appointment to take care of my issue and resolved my problem. The branch person seemed really irritated, but the corporate person was polite and calm. She asked if there was anything else the branch could do for me and I paused and said calmly - "I need them to honor that contract and take me seriously. I paid very good money to NOT have to deal with this. It happened, that was okay, but then they needed to deal with it immediately and they didn't. Because of this, I had to KILL LIVING THINGS and that really upsets me!"

By now my voice had raised several octaves and I was on the brink of a shrill scream. "I do not kill things!! Do you understand!!?? I cannot take the life of something just because I am insanely and irrationally afraid of being bitten by a spider that will then spiral me into the same decomposing flesh nightmare my brother in law dealt with!!! Am I being unreasonable??!! AM I!!??" *heaving and gasping breaths to catch up to the fervor I was in*

Silence on the branch end, and I could hear the almost satisfied amusement and smugness in the corporate woman's voice as she said "I certainly hope that all of our employees share our commitment to satisfying your needs, and will take your concerns to heart. Can I count on this Miss. Whatshername?" I think she enjoyed making the branch woman squirm for not taking care of things the way she should have.

They are coming tomorrow around noon. I'll have to take time off from work, but at this point, it's worth it. I have things contained to the kitchen, but it needs to stay that way.

Yay for Corporate behaving in a way that made me feel valued. Boo to the local branch that is supposed to service me. I'm grumpy with them. Let's see what's in store for me when I get home!

Out of Sight, Out of Mind?

Hardly!

I bring this message to you from a somewhat quieter than usual house of debauchery, as my beloved has gone away for a few days. This is the first time in three years that we'll have been sleeping apart, and it's a little strange. She is exploring the great white North. No, not that far. South a bit. A little further. Ok, now North a bit. East. East. You got it, right there.

On Friday night, we will be meeting up in the delightful little town of Mystic, CT. Our lives have honestly been a little too hectic to warrant much time for relaxation, so we're going to make the most of this nice little weekend away.

I don't have news for you, pets, that you don't already know. I got my visa - although I am still trying to summon up the courage to read through all the paperwork - so that's calming. We have a brand new car, Charlie the Mini Cooper Clubman. The kitten is her usual adorable, obnoxious self, and is feeling remarkably better than she's ever been. We are currently having Central Air installed in the house, finally, two years after we moved in, and that will be positively blissful.

I would actually like to take this opportunity to direct you towards a site that has me rolling on a regular basis. Momversation is an extremely amusing site running videos of 10 regular panelists, and a few guests thrown in once in a while. Each video has a designated topic, and the Mommies talk about their views on the subject. They just have such a way with words, and some of the expressions are priceless. It's not nice to have favorites, but I'm particularly partial to Heather, Alice, Mindy and Maggie.

Take a gander: you'll be glad you did. And remember, nuns are watching you.

One Step Closer

This afternoon, at approximately 1pm, I received word from my attorneys that my petition for H-1B status as a non-immigrant worker had been accepted. This is quite the weight off, my friends! As of October this year, my visa will kick in, lasting until September 2012. Hopefully at some point during the next three years, I can pull it all together enough to get my green card and finally, finally make an honest woman out of this here Yank I'm chained to!

OK, so it's an emotional time, and it's brought out the stoic Brit in me. So sue me! I'm so thrilled. So much money, and I'm just so glad it wasn't all for nothing. What a great way to celebrate our fourth anniversary together!

Hardcore Long time, eh?

And is she coming back with a bang? A flourish?

Nay. She's coming back with a video. A video that has nothing to do with us, but that I saw over at Mindy's site, and thought was really rather amusing. That's Brit for hilarious.

What it feels like to be told about a new sibling:




We'll be back soon, I promise. *smooches*

Just be thankful it's not a scratch and sniff post

It seems that I am a creature of sheer luck, and every time I utilize the facilities where I work, it is inevitable that a certain woman from another department will follow me in there. It can't be planned, I'm certain - but it boils down to this:

It's foul.

From the sounds, the odd intermittent noises, the grunts and sighs and noises that couldn't possibly emanate from a mouth - my conclusion was - that can't be human.

I've got a strong stomach, and I'm very good at holding the hair of a loved one whilst they vomit or partake of something similar. This, however, I cannot endure. I find myself gagging at the sounds - my mouth watering that ungodly amount that indicates "Look out, Bitches - you're gonna hurl!" If I can get past it - the battle's only half over.

I can't leave my stall - I'm trapped in my stall of hell. She saw me enter, and I am frozen in fear and horror - doomed to cower in there silently until the ordeal has finished.

Phase II begins immediately after, with the foulest odors one could imagine. I would prefer to stick my nose deep within the rotting intestinal cavity of a 3 week old corpse that had been in the trunk of a parked car sitting in the sun who's last meal consisted solely of vast amounts of cabbage.

I want to scream "Courtesy Flush Please!!!" but it's no secret who I am, and I'd only drool out the saliva in my mouth that is pooling there while trying not to vomit.

At this point I'm breathing through my mouth and trying not to drown from my watering mouth. Breathing through my nose is NOT an option. Fleeting images of random things pop into my head that further disgust me - 2 girls/1 cup; possible escape routes blocked by mounds of feces; hot dogs; opening the stall door and finding a sloth-like dragon in the stall who belches a little smoke and asks me to excuse her because she ate too many villagers and it upset her tummy.

Unfortunately, there is no polite dragon. Only the beast within the other stall. I finally hear a gurgling flush as the toilet struggles to take in the damage. The grunting continues as I imagine the poor soul/evil creature who did this is adjusting themselves in the stall. I hear flush number two, as the toilet sucks down much more fluidly than the first time. I can picture the possible marks left on the porcelain and I shudder.

Seconds drag and I finally hear the latch to the stall slide open and she strolls to the sinks while the toilet flushes for the third time. the main door opens and closes and there is silence. I grab my opportunity, and run from the stall and bathroom , down an opposite corridor, gulping fresh air as I run. I wait down the hall until I feel it's safe, and make my way back to my department, holding my breath as I hurried past the bathroom.

Why my timing is such that I endure this ritual at least 3 times in any given week, I'll never know.