adventures in DVD acquisition

this was my local library when i lived at hell house

the toronto public library has become my new favourite video store, and scoring brand new DVD releases has become my new favourite game.

because of the way the checkout system works, you can't place holds on (i.e., reserve) new-release feature films. documentaries? you can reserve those the second they enter the system, but new theatrical movies (think: Captain America, The Tree of Life, Crazy Stupid Love et al.) are available on a first-come, first-served basis for about six months after their release date. after that, you can reserve them... assuming you manage to get your hold in before the 300 or so other people who also want to see that film.

until then, it's the luck of the draw when you enter your local branch and check the DVD shelves.

and i have become obsessed with finding those rare, get 'em while you can copies. each branch usually has one copy of all the new films, and you can take them out for seven days. it is next to impossible to get the movie you want, or even to find one that hasn't been out for a year already.

next to impossible... but not impossible.

that's why i now go to the library every single day with the express purpose of DVD acquisition. and, slowly, my persistence is paying off. last week, i caught Scream 4 (not bad), Hanna (disappointing) and Justin Bieber: Never Say Never (surprisingly good!).

the process has also landed me a ton of brand spankin' new documentaries, many of which i've scored before anyone else has viewed the copy. i watched Buck on DVD on the same day it opened in theatres (!) here, and i have two more waiting (i reserved them) for me to pick up tomorrow: Page One (a year in the life of the new york times) and the documentary on a tribe called quest.

free movies rock.

the apprentice

today, i went to my parents' house for a meeting. this december, during the week between christmas and new year's, my mom is having a tiled backsplash added to the perimeter of the kitchen counter and behind the stove (to the floor). she'd initially asked for a price quote from the tile guy who'll be doing all the floors (kitchen, bathroom and hallway) on the main floor in two weeks.

then YB's best pal since childhood, anunziata (not her real name, but close enough), offered to do it.

for free*.

[*fear not, mom's going to pay her -- even though nunz said "cookies for life" would be all the payment she requires -- and nunz estimates it'll be a two- or three-day job. but mom will still be getting a deal.]

nunz is an expert when it comes to home renovations. she led YB and i when we installed the laminate flooring in YB's basement and, frankly, did most of it herself... because she'd already installed ALL the laminate flooring in her own house (and had done a beautiful job). nunz has also tiled her own kitchen plus two others, and is freakishly strong. she also owns her own jigsaw.

as soon as i found out nunz was going to do it, i offered to be her apprentice. "she can take over the grouting when my arm gets tired!" nunz told YB after hearing the news.

anyway...

today, nunz, YB, mom and i gathered in the kitchen to take measurements, decide on tile placement (they're going to be diagonal!) and to chit-chat about scheduling. as we did so, and after remarking at how much of a DIY expert nunz is, trix said to her, "you should be doing this for a living!" (nunz is an accountant.) i then told YB -- who works in health sciences -- that she should modify that advice and take it herself... that she should also find a way to take her passion for all things garden-related and turn that into her career.

and i thought it was all very interesting given the timing and the subject matter of my previous blog post: finding meaning and purpose in life and loving what you do.

i'm super-excited about having a decorating project to look forward to over the holiday, and about learning how to tile... and just because it'll be great to return to some creative-esque manual labour.

even better, mom is over the moon that she'll have a backsplash for the first time ever. and the tiles she chose (1" multi-coloured clay in various shades of blue, brown and beige) look fabulous.

painting myself a picture

yesterday, during a session with my therapist, she asked me what i wanted my life to look like.

for the past few weeks, i've felt myself drifting back into that familiar feeling of directionlessness -- something that plagued me for those two years when work all but dried up completely for me, but which had been somewhat banished from my brain this spring when i began the five-turned-nineteen-week gig at the publishing company (a gig that, as of now, is scheduled to resume in about five or six weeks).

see, now that all my emotional turmoil is long gone (thank you, iceland, for that last big kick!), and i've had an abundance of writing assignments that will make 2011 my most profitable freelance year ever, it's time to get back to looking at where i'm going. and where i want to go.

thing is, i don't know.

over the previous two or three sessions, my therapist and i have discussed this subject in greater and greater depth, because i have -- and have long had -- this deep, gnawing awareness that i'm not living up to my potential. that i could be doing with more with my life.

"what does `more' mean?" my therapist asked when i said that. "what does `more' look like?"

and i didn't have an answer. substituting "better" for "more" didn't really get me anywhere, either.

obviously, it's time to draw some kind of mental picture for myself, and to begin to forge some kind of destiny. or, at least, devise a plan -- however simple or meagre -- for the next few years.

because, at the moment, i don't have a tangible goal towards which i can work and it's causing me some anxiety. i want a path, but i don't have a path because i don't know where i want to go. i can't, in all honesty, say something like "i want to write a screenplay" or "i want to write a novel," because those things don't resonate. they don't feel true. they feel like the answers i should give when someone asks me what i want to do, but… do i really want to do them? i mean, really really really feel like i'm compelled to achieve either of those goals?

i'm not sure.

when i think on what gives me the most pleasure, and where i find the most creative and personal fulfillment, my mind points me towards things like photography. video editing. collaborative projects. in those things, i can get lost. hours fly by like minutes.

and isn't that the best kind of work? the work that's not work at all? don't answer -- i know it is.

then i return to my therapist's question. what do i want my life to look like?

and my mind goes beyond just work. where do i want to live? do i want to live in this apartment forever? if not, for how long? will i ever own a house? will i live my life alone or with someone? will my life be here in toronto or somewhere else?

so much to think about. and think about i must… because my therapist wants an answer of some sort next week.

also, this...

FYI, the photo blog continues to be updated daily.

what i've been up to of late

* this afternoon, i went to the library to return some DVDs and pick up another. when i was done, i decided to go for a long walk through mount pleasant cemetery. there were some pretty amazing splashes of fall colour. like this:

* the physiotherapist gave me a long list of new exercises on friday. some of them involve one of those giant, inflatable yoga balls. i expect to have abs of steel by the time this nagging pain finally heals and goes away.

* speaking of going away… i chatted with the super today. turns out the psycho at the end of my hall was finally evicted because she smacked the super's husband a few times. she (the psycho) had come home in the wee hours (around 2am) one night and couldn't get the building's main door to open. so, she started buzzing the super's apartment… but not just buzzing it, ANGRILY buzzing and buzzing and buzzing until the super's husband (who's very quiet and unassuming) went out to see what was going on. psycho apparently started screaming and swearing at him -- her go-to response is always rage + profanity, you remember -- and claiming that the lock was broken. he said he could show her how to open the door properly and asked for her key. she gave it to him, but then started screaming again and demanding it back. when he took a second too long, she started flailing at him. by now, the super was there and she witnessed it all. she tried to get psycho to calm down and threatened to call the police but, of course, psycho just continued with her temper tantrum. the next morning, the super went to the property management offices, they set a court date to evict psycho… and the rest is history.

* in related news, the psycho's apartment has already been rented for december 1st. per the super, who's acting as an effective gatekeeper in terms of new tenants, my new neighbour is a "nice, gentle" proofreader. a young woman. every appendage is crossed that she's sane.

* i spent saturday out with mom. we met early in the morning, grabbed breakfast on the go and then had a day of shopping. i bought a new coat for $17.25 on clearance (!), some tank tops for $2.50 and a couple of bags of groceries. we had lunch out, as well, and then made delicious sandwiches for dinner. YB swung over to my parents' place on saturday night, and we both stayed over.

* on sunday morning, i used skype for the first time! there were some technical difficulties at first but, a few fixes later, i was live video chatting with ericanddan. :-)

* later on sunday, when i should have been working on work, i was instead working on video editing for another trailer. i started around 2pm... then looked up and it was after 6. totally got lost in what i was doing, but in the best possible way.

* i have five stories to write this week. i've made a schedule for myself of what i'll write each day and, if all goes as planned, i'll be finished 'em all by end-of-day friday. some will be easier than others, so i've tried to group the comparatively quick ones together.

* last weekend, i picked up a "my panera" rewards card at panera bakery. they're free, and the guy behind the cash register told me i'd get a "surprise" just for signing up. sure enough, i registered the card online when i got home, checked my account and discovered a free pastry had been loaded onto the card for me. cool!

* smoothie tip: use coconut milk (the kind in the milk-like cartons, labelled as "coconut beverage," not the concentrated stuff in the cans) to add delicious creaminess and tropical goodness to whatever blend of fruit you've dumped into the blender. SO good!

* i've been trying to eat more protein. it's hit and miss.

adventures in physiotherapy

the last chapters of the iceland tales will appear (hopefully) next week. i currently have five (!) writing assignments to finish, all of which are due on halloween or november 1st. in the meantime...

at some point in april or may, i tore something in my abdominal wall. not a big tear, not a hernia or anything, but i was stretching backwards to pose for a photo when i suddenly felt a sharp pain in my lower right abdomen, as though i'd just pulled something.

for the next, oh, five months or so, that pain would recur anytime i reached upwards or bent backwards or just turned funny. it would wax and wane, alleviated by exercise and aggravated by any movement or activity that involved the stretching of my abdominal muscles.

my chiropractor kept telling me i should go have an abdominal ultrasound to make sure it wasn't another cyst but, as many of you will recall, ultrasounds and i do not get along. (and, yes, i do remember that the second one went much better than the first one had.) so, heading to see dr. textbook to chat with her about my recurring, stretch-related ab pain, and having her order a battery of needless tests for what i knew in my gut (pun intended) was some kind of muscle-related injury, wasn't tops on my list of fun ways to spend an afternoon.

so, i let the discomfort continue. it had improved, albeit very very slowly, since may, but was still present if i reached or bent over or twisted my torso.

then, a few weeks ago and when she said there was really nothing more she could do for me chiropractically, my chiropractor handed me a piece of paper with a name and website URL on it. she said it was for a physiotherapist to whom she referred any problem cases she couldn't solve. she said this physio was amazing, and that she'd likely be able to diagnose whatever was causing my pain in record time.

when i asked where this physio -- let's call her monique -- was located, i found out she was in my neighbourhood. when i asked how much she'd charge, i was told to just suck it up and pay whatever the fee would be so that this issue could finally be resolved. fair 'nuff.

when i got home, i looked up monique's website and saw her address -- it would literally be a three minute walk right down my street to her office. i took that as a sign and made an appointment.

and, so it was that, last friday, i went to see monique, a spirited francophone in her 50s. her office is in her (big, fancy) house, and it's got all the equipment you'd expect to find. i had to fill out a massive questionnaire and answer all kinds of questions about this abdominal pain. monique had me do a number of different exercises so she could observe what caused the pain to recur and what didn't.

after maybe seven or eight minutes, and as i was lying on her comfy (magnetized!) table, she said she was almost positive she knew exactly what was wrong, but that she had one more test for me to perform and, if that triggered the pain, she'd know she was right.

she instructed me (as i lay on my back) to raise my left knee towards my chest while simultaneously lifting up my head. as soon as i did that, PANG! the pain hit, clear and precise.

"yes, i was correct!" she said, and promptly informed me that i had (at some point) sprained my obliques, and that the treatment-less months that followed postponed proper healing. she also added that my core strength is nonexistent, and that my pelvis is too loose.

*rimshot *

make your own joke.

for the next 45 minutes (my one-hour session wound up stretching to 75 minutes, but i wasn't charged extra -- score!), monique led me through a series of strengthening exercises aimed at contracting the injured muscles and getting them back in proper working order. she gave me homework, which i've been doing twice a day, as instructed.

and, tomorrow, i go back for a second appointment to see if they've made any difference, to get more magnetized treatment and to learn new exercises for the weeks to come.

iceland tales: getting naked at the pool -- conclusion

the laugardalslaug hot pots

stepping out onto the massive pool deck in 54ºF air was refreshing in every sense of the word. the awkward part was over with - time for fun! and quickly: being damp in that cold, breezy air made getting into the water top priority.

there were two enormous pools -- one, an olympic-sized lap pool with six (maybe eight? i'm not sure) lanes, and the other a huge, sprawling soak-ish pool that was about four-feet deep and filled with people. next to the lap pool were four "hot pots," which are essentially hot tubs, arranged in order of ascending temperature. i think the "coldest" one was 38ºC (100ºF) and the hottest was a whopping 44ºC (111ºF). even though it doesn't sound like much of a difference, believe me: IT IS. the 44ºC pot was essentially a vat of human soup. there were also a few larger hot-pot-esque wading pools scattered around and packed with people, a sauna and a colourful waterslide.

around the perimeter of the pools, every available space on which one might hang one's towel was filled with… towels. some knotted, some wrapped in creative ways, all done to distinguish one person's white rental towel from those of dozens and dozens of strangers. when my pals and i reconvened upon exiting the change rooms, we quickly scanned the pools for any sign of ericanddan. when we located them -- gathered in a cluster with t-po and some of the other wedding guests in the soaking pool -- we promptly hung our towels amid the masses and hurried into the water.

and, OMG, that water. heavenly. it was like stepping into a vast bath. so fabulously warm and welcoming and relaxing. i instantly understood why icelanders make this a part of their daily routines. we made our way to the group, exchanged hugs and then just lounged in the water. there were kids and families playing with assorted floaties, balls and water toys, and there was the constant sploosh of one person after another being spit out of the bottom of the waterslide. it was glorious!

i'd wanted to do a post-wedding debrief with eric, so we slowly bobbed away from everyone else, pulled over a foam horse floatie and had an hour-long "foam of silence" conversation, wherein we fully dished about and dissected everything that had happened the night before. occasionally, as we chatted, i remarked at where we were in a "can you BELIEVE this?! we're HERE!" way. because, there we were. in iceland. in a thermal pool. a day after his wedding. a year of planning and prep and (for me) anxiety and wondering, and it was all happening. more importantly, it was all so much more amazing than i ever could have imagined.

various members of our party enthusiastically took to the waterslide. when t-po described the experience as "intense," i suspected it might not be for me. that's the kind of ambiguous adjective that could mean "intensely fun" or "intensely terrifying," so i erred on the side of caution. and i'm glad i did -- though all agreed it was a thrilling ride, my friend linda wound up in a mid-slide collision in the pitch-dark portion of the enclosed slide when ericanddan's UK pal, who'd gone down first, and stopped or slowed down enough that linda wound up crashing into her. everyone was fine, and the story has since become part of our collective vacation lore, but i didn't want to chance it. FYI, the slide works on a red light/green light system (to let the person at the top  know when it's safe to hop in and head down) that, evidently, needs a little tweaking.

after we'd waded and lounged and talked and relaxed in the soaking pool for a long while, we decided to give the hot pots a try. the 38ºC pot was full, so we went to the next pot up (40ºC), which was crowded but still had enough room for us four. it was, in a word, hot… like the best kind of hot tub. we all stepped in and remarked, as we sat down on the cement ledge around the interior, how UH-MAY-ZING it felt. strong jets pounding our backs, hot water bubbling all around us. everyone leaned his or head back and just absorbed the comforting heat (which, obviously, was made all the more comforting after our chilly walk along the deck from the pool).

and then, almost simultaneously, we all hit the tipping point when you go from being blissed out in the hot water to feeling kind of queasy and ill about it all as your core temperature rises. we'd be in there for, i dunno, maybe 10 or 15 minutes when we consulted with each other and agreed it was time to get out. when we did, i immediately understood how it was that so many of the pool visitors seemed to be quite comfortable wandering around, wet, in the cold air -- clearly, they were cooling down after a stint in one of the four cauldrons. i was quite happy to have the wind wrap itself around my steaming body as we walked slowly back to the soaking pool.

we wound up staying and playing in the water for a while longer. eric and i discovered the "hot hole," from which the hot water was being pumped out to the masses, so we hung out there and continued comparing notes. eventually, though, we all realized it was probably time to head out -- our hands and feet were beyond prune-y, and time was marching on. we made plans to meet up downtown for the evening's culture night festivities, then said our goodbyes.

i must say, the post-swim shower process was far less daunting than the pre-swim shtick. for starters, no one seems to care whether you shower when you exit the pool, just so long as you dry off completely before entering the changing area. your feet must be dry, but your body doesn't have to be clean. and, as much as i loved those communal showers, i decided i'd shower properly and wash my hair when i got back to my studio, so i dried off and headed back to my locker.

now, changing out of one's suit and back into clothes is just as slow and challenging a process as it had been in the reverse order. and, this time, i had the added treat of two girls -- who looked like they were perhaps 10 or 11 years old -- standing at the mirror at the end of the aisle where my locker was located. so, like, five feet away from me. they were just kind of hanging out and goofing around (and were fully dressed), presumably waiting for their mom(s) to finish changing. and i wondered if they were going to stand there the entire time i was changing.

yup!

i tried to turn my back to them because, you know, this was really weird and i didn't feel like flashing two preteens… but then they actually moved and i was once again facing them. i kind of wanted to ask them if there wasn't somewhere else they could be so that i could have some modicum of privacy while stripping down, but i didn't. and, thankfully, after a minute or so, they moved along. i finished getting dressed, wrapped my wet suit in a ziploc bag and packed it in my knapsack and then headed back outside to gather my shoes.

farther along the hall outside the change areas, there was a long table with little stations along it, each one with a small standing mirror and a hand-held hair dryer. there were a few women drying their lids. i thought about trying to dry my hair before the long walk back to the studio but reasoned that i'd probably be just fine in the icelandic air given that i'd just spent more than two hours outside in it while soaking wet. so, i tied it up, put my hiking boots back on and we made our way back into town.

i hopped into my hot shower as soon as i got back, then had a hearty snack because, shortly, i'd be heading back out for a much-anticipated evening of culture nighting…

iceland tales: getting naked at the pool -- part two

so.

i stood at my locker – which i chose specifically for its remote, corner location – and kept telling myself this was no big deal. sure, there were naked women of all shapes and sizes walking around, but so what? no big deal. i could get just as naked as the rest of them. no big deal. nevermind that i had never before, ever, in my life been buck naked in front of dozens of strangers.

but, if i wanted to join ericanddan in laugardalslaug’s welcoming waters, that’s exactly what i’d have to do.

the thermal pools in iceland are minimally chlorinated (or not chlorinated at all), so icelanders are very conscious of cleanliness and cooties, and there are thus detailed pre-swim washing rules that must be followed. for starters, you have to undress completely at your locker. then, you have to walk naked through the change room, carrying your bathing suit and towel, to the shower area. there, you place your stuff in a little cubby and must then bathe your bits.

and, make no mistake, they take the bit-bathing very seriously. they even have an attendant on staff who watches to make sure everyone headed for the pool deck has followed protocol properly. (i have no idea what they'd do if they caught someone not abiding by the rules but i'm pretty sure it would involve tackling and the forcible consumption of fermented fish products.)

there are posters everywhere – in the showers, in every locker, placed randomly about the change room – that illustrate, quite clearly, what needs to happen and which specific areas (marked in red!) require special attention. the showers themselves are stall-like in nature, though not big enough to actually create any kind of privacy. the “walls” are quite shallow and only really cover the middle part of your body and the gigantic soap dispenser, from which everyone is supposed to collect their bit-bathing bubbles, is kind of in the middle of the space... so you have to step under your stall's showerhead for an initial rinse, then walk to the dispenser to get soap, then go back to the shower stall to lather up all your danger zones.

after you’ve rinsed yourself clean, you then return to the cubby area, put on your bathing suit and head outside, or inside, to swim.

as i slowly undressed and carefully folded my clothes into a neat pile in my locker, i mentally prayed that i wouldn’t run into anyone i knew while i was sans vêtements. i made sure not to glance around the locker area, lest anyone think i was ogling, and kept my eyes squarely on my stuff. when i finally removed the last piece of clothing, i felt weirdly liberated and terrified. i closed the locker, locked it and put the elastic bracelet holding the key around my wrist.

show time!

i don’t think i’ve ever before walked as simultaneously quickly and carefully before – the last thing i wanted to do was slip and fall in public while naked – or passed as many people without making a speck of eye contact. but my goal was simple: get to the showers, shower and get dressed!

when i think about how me trying to behave nonchalantly must have appeared to everyone else, it actually makes me laugh. i’m sure my nerves were apparent. nonetheless, i put my suit and towel into a cubby and walked into one of the stalls. next to me was a mother and her daughter, who looked like she was maybe two or three years old and who did NOT want to be bathed. again, i didn’t want to look but caught a glimpse of them en route to the soap.

after i finished showering, i retrieved my bathing suit and attempted to put it on. ladies, i don’t think i need to tell you how impossible this task was. trying to put on a dry bathing suit when your body is soaking wet is an epic struggle, to say the least. i’m pretty sure i still have elastic burns on my hips from trying to drag my suit over my skin.

it was, in a word, hilarious and i actually started laughing. imagine yourself trying to squeeze yourself into an un-inflated birthday balloon, and you get some idea of what it was like. or, if you saw the episode of Friends where ross tries to put on a pair of damp leather pants... it was like that. (later, in the pool, i’d learn that all the women had similar experiences.)

finally, i pulled the straps over my shoulders and was once again covered up. funny how wearing a bathing suit became “being covered up” for someone as modest as me and provided as much relief as if i’d suddenly been draped with a huge cloak.

feeling newly initiated into icelandic culture and infused with “been there, done that” courage, i stepped outside into the icy (54ºF) afternoon air...

iceland tales: getting naked at the pool -- part one

in iceland, thermal pools are where it’s at. going to one and enjoying a relaxing soak is a long-standing (or, i suppose, long-soaking), vital thread in the fabric of icelanders’ lives. it’s something they do almost daily. every town in the country has at least one thermal pool, and there were a whole bunch of them -- from the small and quaint to the giant and sprawling -- in reykjavik.

so it was that ericanddan planned a day-after-the-wedding outing to laugardalslaug, the biggest thermal pool in iceland and the one pictured above. pretty spectacular, no? the fellas were going to foot the bill for anyone who felt like joining them to lounge in really warm, really soothing waters for the afternoon. it would be a drop-in affair (pun intended) and, since i love ericanddan AND pools, this was a no-brainer for me. i was IN.

the day was absolutely glorious, weather-wise. crisp, cool and beautifully sunny. after a morning of sightseeing around the city, that included a ride to the top of the tower at hallgrímskirka (where my pals and i enjoyed breathtaking panoramic views of the city and harbour), it was time to pack up and head out on the 40-minutes-or-so walk through town to the massive sports complex that houses the thermal pool.

now. here’s the thing about iceland’s thermal-pool-loving culture: there’s a strict set of pre-swim rules and practices that must be followed and performed. and the big one involves getting naked with all your fellow bathers before you do just about anything else.

before ever booking my plane ticket across the pond, i’d read all about dan’s experiences at laugardalslaug after his icelandic-reconnaissance mission with t-po months earlier. he’d explained the whole get-naked angle, the temporary awkwardness of it all and what would be required if we ever decided to partake of the pool experience. i’d also browsed assorted tour books and website postings on the subject and discovered that publicly dropping trou for the purposes of a thermal-pool dip was so routine that pretty much everyone except tourists is totally blasé about it. despite boning up on the whats and hows, and feeling like i had a good grasp on what i’d have to do, i was nonetheless kind of nervous as we arrived at the pool and checked in.

the front-desk area was lovely, and solveig (the girl who checked us in) was very nice. when i’d packed for iceland, i’d decided not to bring my own towel because i’d read (correctly, it turns out) that one can rent towels – and even bathing suits (ew) – at the pool for a nominal fee. this is what we all did. we paid and then... we were kind of lost.

most of the initial signage was in icelandic, so my friend linda and i made our way towards the women’s change room and hoped to just kind of watch our fellow bathers-to-be to learn what we were supposed to do and where and when. nobody wants to be the asshat visitor who unknowingly ignores proper protocol... which is also why i didn’t take a single photo anywhere on the premises, lest i whip out my camera somewhere or sometime completely inappropriate.

anyway...

there were long, long rack-like shelves outside the change-room entrance, on which many pairs of shoes and boots had been placed. there were women and girls sitting on benches nearby, all untying their shoelaces and eventually adding their footwear to the racks. a sign just inside the change-room door explained why: absolutely no shoes allowed in the change room unless bagged and carried. we decided to do as the locals were doing and, soon, were shuffling into the change room in our socks.

that’s when, silently and without consulting about it first, we both automatically went our separate ways and found lockers nowhere near each other. because, see, here’s the thing about a thermal-pool outing with your friends: the before-swim stuff is fun, the swimming itself is fun and the post-swim stuff is fun, but – as we all agreed later – none of us really wanted to be naked together or see each other naked because that is not fun. or in any way *not* awkward.

and, when you plan on going swimming at a thermal pool in iceland, getting very naked in a very public way is just part of the process. so, upon finding an available locker (there were rows and rows of them, like the set up in a high-school change room) in a remote corner of the surprisingly large space and doing my best not to look at the veryverynaked women walking nonchalantly past me at every turn, i started taking off my clothes one item at a time...

oh, and...

... new pix up at the photo blog.

it was thanksgiving weekend...

... so i spent it chez mes parents. hence, blog crickets.

YB, mom and i clear cut the garden and prepped it for winter. (well, they did most of the work and i served as a sous-gardener.) there were bins and bins and bins of compostable yard waste and floral remnants, and they gave away many plants to friends and neighbours happy to take transplantable black-eyed susans and lady's mantles.

it was unseasonably warm all weekend, with temperatures in the high-70s. nice for strolling, not-so-nice for manual labour outdoors.

i did four big loads of laundry over the course of two afternoons.

we made cookies -- butterscotch oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. delicious.

we had turkey yesterday and, after YB packed up went home for the night (i decided to stay overnight), mom and i watched DVDs.

i came home this morning, unpacked all the clean clothes and linens and went for a big-ass, thanksgiving-day walk through mount pleasant cemetery and environs.

and found myself oddly weepy.

good grief... where did the week go?!

i know, i know. iceland. pool. naked. i'm on it.

i've had a bunch of errands and appointments this week, and i've been trying *not* to sit at my desk because i'm hoping it'll somehow alleviate this nagging abdominal pain i've had off and on since may... pain which is often exacerbated by extensive sitting.

so, i sort of took this week "off," in terms of my writing. i also stayed over at my parents' place for a couple of nights, which further cut into my writing-for-blogging time.

anyway, all this to say: no, i didn't drop off the face of the earth -- just temporarily off the face of this blog.

back on track now!

this just in: my bathroom plumbing is finally (knock on wood) fixed

i can now shower in the tub or wash my hands in the sink without problematic faucets, mysterious drips, fluctuating water temperature, variable water pressure or wrist-wrenching effort.

i can now continue with my work and weekend.

and have something to drink. (i didn't want to have to pee while my bathroom was out of commission.)

[edited to add: if you'd like to see the faucet, and a bunch of other photos, click here.]

quick updates... i swear "getting naked at the pool" is coming soon...

1. tomorrow morning at 9, mr. super is scheduled to return to fix the mess he created. the super came to my apartment today because i wanted her to see for herself what the problems were, and for her to try to turn on and off the water in the bathtub. i really really really want everything to be all better by noon.

2. for about 20 minutes today, i believed my work on the advertorial was done. because i was told it was done. i was mistaken. but i think NOW it's finished.

3. i have two feature stories to write tomorrow, both about movie stars.

4. the weirdo next door has been spotted walking the psycho's puppy. the creep seems to have disappeared.  i really want someone wonderful to move in at the end of the hall come november.

5. the temperatures here will be dropping dramatically overnight. it was about 75ºF yesterday. tomorrow? probably in the high 40s. and WINDY.

ask (sort of) and ye shall receive (in a way)

once upon a time, i wrote this.

and, now, this exists.

:-D

iceland tales will resume shortly... in the meantime, my faucet's busted!

for the past year, the hot-water faucet in my bathroom sink had become increasingly hard to turn.

for the past few months, i'd only been able to turn it about a half an inch.

it was still functional, and hot water still came out of the tap... but the water pressure was always limited and would slow to a trickle as the temperature rose. the hotter the water, the less of it that would come out of the tap. for many, many weeks, i debated whether to let the super know and to request it be fixed.

i hate having repairmen in my apartment, especially when i'm not home, and i wanted to make sure that i'd be around if a faucet repair was gonna happen.

given that i'm on hiatus from the office job for at least the next four weeks, i decided to call the super yesterday. (that's when i found out the psycho's moving out.)

i explained the sink problem and made sure to repeat "bathroom sink," because i had visions of someone arriving at my door to fix things, me not being home and that someone inadvertently "fixing" the wrong thing.

the super said her husband would probably be able to fix it (he's an electrician and general handyman), and that he'd likely be up to do it on friday. i said that was fine, i wasn't in a rush. and, more importantly, i knew i'd be home all day on friday, so i'd be there to direct the action.

imagine my surprise when, this evening as i was returning home from a screening, i arrived at my apartment door to find it ajar and a light on inside. i nearly had a heart attack -- i thought someone had broken in.

no, it was the super's husband... perched on the edge of my bathtub... with the bathtub fixtures taken apart before him.

WHAT?!

"no, no!" i said. "the bathtub's fine! it's the SINK faucet that was sticking!"

"oh," he replied, "i tried the sink and it seemed fine, so i thought maybe it was the bathtub."

OMG.

NO!

my bathtub faucets had always been perfect! nothing at all wrong!

"well, i put in new parts anyway," he said of the bathtub fixtures as he began re-assembling them.

then, he started on the sink. i went about trying to busy myself with other things, all the while worried that whatever needless repair he'd just done on my bathtub would, instead, wind up CAUSING a problem.

a few minutes later, i saw him putting the sink fixture back together.

"so, is it fixed?" i asked.

and he answered that it was sort of fixed -- in trying to loosen the hot-water faucet, he also wound up shifting the entire fixture off its mooring and it was now loose. in order to fix it, he'd have to take the entire fixture OFF... and, he said, if he was going to do that anyway, he might as well just install an entirely new fixture (since mine was probably original to the building construction).

i'd arrived home hungry for dinner but had lost my appetite by this point.

he said it would take a few days for him to get a new fixture and then return to install it... so, saturday?

i said saturday would be fine, anytime after 9am. i asked whether the sink faucet was still usable in the meantime and he said, "oh, yes! it's fine... just loose." and then he showed me -- he grabbed the tap and wriggled the entire thing back and forth.

he left and i decided to check his work on the tub. what had he done? what would be different?

well, for starters, the faucets now feel gummy and stiff. i have to turn and turn before any water comes out, whereas all i had to do in the past was simply turn the knob a little and a strong stream of water would shoot from the tap.

then... i tried to turn the water OFF.

i turned the faucets off. or so i thought. i noticed a steady drip coming out of the tap. i turned the faucets off harder. the drip continued. i tried wrenching them off with as much might as i could manage.

drip.

drip.

drip.

OH, COME ON!!!!!

yes, not only had he made turning the water *on* more difficult, now it seemed i couldn't get it to turn completely *off*, either.

my stomach sank.

i called the super.

"yeah, he `fixed' the bathtub faucet even though there was nothing *wrong* with the bathtub faucet, and now the bathtub faucet is dripping."

she let out an exasperated sigh and wondered aloud why he would touch the bathtub when she'd told him specifically that it was the sink. then she offered some anti-drip suggestions, all of which i'd already tried to no avail.

"he can fix everything on saturday," i said. "i just wanted to let you know."

i hung up and could have kicked myself around the block. something inside told me not to bother with the faucet... that i should just keep using it until it became unusable and only call when i couldn't turn it on at all. i had this weird feeling that new problems would be created in trying to fix this one, and i was right.

thankfully, after further cranking of the faucets, it appears that the drip has finally stopped. but i don't want to have to exert that much effort every time i take a shower! i'd like to, oh i don't know, turn off the water easily and have that be the end of it.

on the upside, they have to keep fixing this problem until it's fixed. and, if the super's husband can't get it done, then i'll ask for the official plumber to be called so *he* can finish the job.

oh, and the irony (sort of) to this whole debacle? the hot water faucet on the bathroom sink now works.

a prayer for the universe

dear universe,

thank you for making sure the psycho at the end of my hall was finally kicked to the curb. it makes me very very happy to know she'll be gone soon.

if it's not too much trouble, would you please do what you can to make sure that whoever moves into her apartment is:

* a non-smoker
* quiet
* sane
* responsible
* respectful
and
* friendly?

please? it would mean so much to me.

with great appreciation,
vickie

and the choirs of angels sang, "HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!"

the psycho tenant at the end of my hall is LEAVING!

when i heard the news this morning, i was so happy i nearly cried!

no more living in fear! no more worrying about coming home and running into her in the hallway!

no more loud music blasting out of that unit! no more screaming tantrums in the middle of the night!

she's finally, finally OUTTA HERE!

though i didn't get all the details, i gather her psychotic behaviour had escalated recently because the super said they took her to court. as such, i imagine the psycho's departure from this building
isn't exactly voluntary... so we're all bracing for retaliation of some sort.

but she's been a menace the entire time (4+ years) i've lived here and now... 

she has to be gone by halloween! 

i feel like throwing a parade!

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

today in "thoughtless remarks" news...

YB and i popped in to visit our mom this afternoon. mom's been down lately, so we try to cheer her up when we can. as we sat in the living room and chatted, mom said something about "getting hints from people" that she's getting fat.

both YB and i jumped on the comment. what the what?! who'd given her "a hint"?

"friends," said mom.

WTF?

(note: mom's actually lost 10 pounds of late.)

we pressed for more info, and wanted to know what was said and who'd said it, because neither trix nor i could believe that any of her friends would tell her she's getting fat. though, to be honest, i suspected i knew who said it -- mom has one friend who's made thoughtless remarks before. not to be mean or because she's cruel, just because she's thoughtless.

after further pushing, mom gave up the story. it turns out i was correct in identifying the culprit.

she and mom were out shopping together recently, and the friend noticed a very heavy woman nearby.

"now, she's fat," said the friend to my mother. "she makes you look thin."

seriously.

both YB and i rolled our eyes and shook our heads and assured our mother that she is not fat, nor is she "getting" fat, and reminded her that her clueless friend is clueless. nevermind that this friend is no svelte specimen herself nor does she have any business commenting on anyone's weight.

"next time she says something like that," i advised, "just look at her and say, `oh, so you're saying you think i'm fat.' and then wait for her to get it."

but what i really wanted to advise was that, next time something like this happens, mom should look at her friend and tell her to f**k off.

and... it continues!

submitted a bunch of copy yesterday, and the client once again opted to go with the mock-up copy they'd provided for the ads.

and they've decided to cut one portion of the advertorial -- which was set to be about 300 words -- down to ONE LINE. (which i have yet to write... and i'll write a few, to give them options... but i suspect they'll just use the line they've already created, anyway!)

so, i started to get nervous about my fee. my workload has been cut by at least 70%, and i wondered if my fee would likewise drop by a similar percentage.

NOPE!

i still get the original amount, regardless of how little i wind up having to write or how little the client actually uses of what i do write.

it's kind of hilarious, but i'm not complaining!