We're both in a better place

I'll head to Boston on Wednesday night in a much better place than I was in when I went almost a month ago. My utilities are up and running and the house is in decent shape-- there's still much work to be done but I don't feel like I need to spend every waking moment on it. I was concerned about almost two weeks with my parents--that's what I get for chasing the lowest fares--but I'm going to work out of our Boston office for a few days, so I'll have an oasis. I'm still concerned about leaving Gracie alone for that long, but she'll get over it (yes, someone will come by to feed her).

Before I go on to why I'm going on about my holiday plans, I'm going to express remorse for whining as much as I have over the last couple of months. Yes, the homebuying and moving/repairing/furnishing process has been difficult and stressful-- and just when I thought it was winding down, I opted to prolong it by refinancing (it would be stupid not to)-- but I also have to say that more things went right that went wrong, and the things that went wrong have mostly been resolved, while the things that went right are still great. I knew I'd get to this point eventually-- although even two weeks ago I couldn't see it-- and I'm really happy to be here now.

I say this just before I embark on a morning of house-related shopping-- which I can bitch about non-stop. Someone said to me that I must not be superstitious, having closed on Halloween, to which I responded that Halloween is actually good luck. However, my penance for buying in the fall is having to do house shopping around the holidays, i.e. amid the triple threat of hordes, worse-than-usual traffic and horrendous Christmas music. But I digress.

Holiday plans. I think I've mentioned that I bought my tickets home before I knew I was buying a house, so spending an extra few days in Boston to save a few hundred dollars didn't seem too bad an idea. Also, my mom was in a nice streak at the time, so spending more time with her also didn't seem too bad an idea. The nice streak had weakened a bit the weekend of her birthday in October and went into hiding for Thanksgiving, but I have reason to believe it may reemerge.

I need to provide more background, and give mom more credit. The weekend of Thanksgiving, she showed two signs of drastic attitude adjustment with regard to my career. Remember that she never trusted me for a minute to make my own career decisions and never acknowledged that I knew anything about anything. If I made an informed opinion about a humanitarian organization, she'd ask me accusingly what made me an expert on humanitarian organizations. Also recall that it was my first or second day home for the holidays last year that I was offered my current job, to my unbounded joy and my parents nonplussed shrugs. Oh, and mom's suggestions that I had to leave my then-job because I'd alienated all my coworkers with my overbearing personality. Not to mention, 'doesn't matter, all government is idiots.'

Well, since then, mom has noticed that the work of my employer is oft-cited in the media, and has gone 180 degrees-- to something only slightly less annoying, but something that apparently other colleagues of mine get from time to time: "Your people should really look into this," at every turn.

Mom: These traffic lights aren't synchronized. Your people should really look into this.
A.: "My people" tend to look into national-level, macro...
Mom: Unsynchronized traffic lights are one of the most important issues facing our country.

And so on.

Also that weekend-- the weekend of the Mumbai tragedy-- mom asked me about India and Pakistan. And listened. We had an intelligent, adult conversation-- one that led me to recommend "Three Cups of Tea" and actually now that I think about it I need to remember to grab my copy of "A Fine Balance" for her.

Anyway, we stopped at the library later that weekend and I requested the book for her.

A week and a half ago, she called to say that she couldn't put it down. She was quasi-accusatory, as in "I'm not getting anything done because I can't put this book down!" Which in and of itself was a victory because I got her to spend some time feeding her soul rather than "cleaning the garage," as John Irving would put it.

She left me a message the other night, and when I called back, all she wanted to talk about was that book. She finished it, she loved it, it's really inspired her, she's getting dad to read it.

So remember that earlier post, where I wrote about how I resented Fox News that much more for exploiting fear to bring out the hateful, short-sighted part of people, sadly including my mom? Well, suck it, Fox News-- I've thwarted your hate agenda. This one book has undone the damage.

When 'Kitch' is for Kitchen

Even though I preface every link to David Brooks with something like, "I'm not a fan of David Brooks, but," the man makes some valid points, and even though "Bobos in Paradise" is sociology-by-anecdote and stretches the truth a lot, it's a good read. When I read it many years ago, particularly close to home (and hilarious) was the chapter on REI and other outdoor outfitters, and the chapter on Bobos and their six-figure showers and kitchens was good, too. I think my manager at the time was in the middle of a $90,000 kitchen renovation.

One of the main themes of the book was that the art of displaying status symbols had evolved; ostentatious displays were considered crass, and those wanting to signal had to come up with more subtle messaging techniques and messages. It had become crass to spend thousands of dollars on things for show, so to still be able to show, Bobos distinguished themselves by investing in the practical. If it was practical, pour in as many thousands as your Bobo heart desires. Hence the excessive kitchens and showers.

This concept was taken up by "Sex and the City," in the oft-cited (at least among my friends) baby shower episode. Carrie gets lectured by a sanctimonious friend who would never think of spending hundreds of dollars on shoes. But she still spends excessively (key word: excessively-- I know baby stuff is expensive, but we're talking over-the-top and for-show) on stuff for her kids, and goes on as if it's somehow morally superior to spend hundreds of dollars on a pacifier.

Enough about babies; let's get back to pimped-out kitchens. One of my heroes, Mark Bittman, writes and blogs about how a small kitchen is good enough for him.

In the vein of Koizumi's Elvis obsession

Who knew?

OMFG

Amateur hour or crazy pills? I'd say both.

Taking what we can get

Frank Rich on another clusterf**k.

What a coincidence

It was just the other day, at work, that I found myself wishing that I could use the word clusterf**k.

More idiocracy

Believe it:
“The problem was,” he told me, “the kid interviewing me could not pronounce the name of the country I was being interviewed for. It made for an awkward interview until he just started saying ‘the country we are considering you for.’”

***
On this topic, a small listing in the Post's Express, likely taken from the Post itself, referred to the Prague Spring as having happened in Poland.

More on the whackos out there

Florida.

Rent

I'm posting a room announcement I received through the SC young alums listserv, because I think parts of it are f*ing hilarious (skim up to fourth paragraph, then read):

There's a room opening up in the group house I'm in and I thought I'd let you all in on it. It's $700 a month, utilities not included (average $75 a month). The house is extremely well located (about three houses down from the Adams Morgan bike shop, for those who know the area) - you can walk to Adams Morgan bars even in ridiculous heels. Don't believe me? Google map 1757 Euclid St NW. There's a farmers market less than a block a way, and walking to the Dupont
scene takes less than 15 minutes. Accessible to the 42, and S1,2,4 bus lines and red line (Woodley Park) and Columbia Heights metro (.7 mile walk to each). Walkable (10 minutes) to Rock Creek park and the Zoo for jogging and picnics.

The house itself is in great shape. It's a 3 floor, 6 bedroom/4.5 bath. It's got a pool table, huge TV w/ TiVo, central heat and air, a gas fireplace, nice tiled kitchen with granite countertops, gas stove, garbage disposal, dishwasher, weekly maid service, the works. Washer
and dryer of course. Wood floors everywhere except the stairs, which have been carpeted recently and are in great shape.

The room: not huge, but it's got a full closet, big window and can fit a full-sized bed. Carpeted. You'll share a bathroom with the DOJ (male) paralegal. Bathroom has full tub.

The other roommates - 2 men, 3 women (including me) - keep mostly to themselves, and if you don't watch TV you'll never see them. One female financial analyst (mid twenties), me, and her friend Kerry on the 3rd floor (haven't seen Kerry in literally a month - she basically
lives with her boyfriend). Second floor has the empty room, an early twenties male paralegal in the DOJ, and the IT geek/parttime grad student landlord in his thirties. The analyst and paralegal are really the only people I see much of, and they are funny and very chill.

There is a downside to every house, and I'll be upfront about the downside here. The landlord lives here, and while he is not anal about cleanliness, noise or anything like that, he is extremely socially awkward (I mean shit, he's in his late thirties and lives in a 6 bedroom house with roommates. Read between the lines). He has been known to inadvertently drive off tenants who can't handle his personality. He's not aggressive - more like infuriatingly passive
and kind of pathetic - but he likes to make awkward jokes, talk during my shows (gaaaaah) and hover. I haven't had a real problem with him because I can be extremely frigid when necessary - after a month of giving one word answers to his banalities, we have a nice, civil
understanding. If you are an extremely nice and accommodating person he will try to ingratiate himself into your life, so this living arrangement may not be for you. Honestly, he's not difficult to deal with, but i do feel that i need to warn prospective roomies.

Nina

P.S. there is on-street parking, but the man vacating this room is actually leaving because he's had his car broken into twice (he left his ipod and GPS system out. oy.), so i wouldn't recommend you use it.
P.P.S. Crime: adams morgan is a weird mix - if you've lived in dc for a while, you know it, but for those that don't....there is some low income housing around this house (though not on euclid street - its pretty yuppie/middle class) and the occassional theft/shooting in adams morgan. can't be helped. not the safest area in NW (though I feel much safer here than in Columbia Heights, were I last lived), and i've walked home shitfaced on many a night and been absolutely fine.

***
More on renting in DC.

On books

I agree, but you're two or three French lit classes too late; I've had many more times more Mme. Bovary than I could handle.

On the topic of the young writing the elderly, I strongly recommend "Water for Elephants." It's an excellent read, but I couldn't tell you how well Sarah Gruen wrote an elderly man.

Ow, my balls!

TV imitates art.

Quote of the Day

Brought to you by Gail Collins:
"There are, after all, 100 senators, and we know from several centuries of experience that the nation can survive quite nicely even if a sizable minority are brain-dead bank robbers."

Priorities

My mom is really funny.

You know how she's always worried about me, concerned about my safety?

Many years ago, there was a possibility that I would get a summer internship in Zambia (I didn't). My mother became very worried and spent much time trying to convince me that I shouldn't go to Africa. Then, she had a change of heart. She said, "on second thought, it might help you lose some weight."

Well, the other day, mom was asking me about my utilities. (By the way, she asked me again how much I paid for internet. It's the new "when are you arriving.") I listed off water, power, gas, alarm.

Mom: Alarm? What do you need an alarm system for?
A.: It's just better to have.
Mom: Isn't it expensive?
A.: About $35 per month.
Mom: Do you really have anything valuable?
A.: Well, yes, and it'd also a safety issue.

Then, today:

Mom: You don't have a TV yet?
A.: No.
Mom: When will you get one?
A.: I'm not sure I will. I'm not sure I'll want to pay for cable.
Mom: I think that's a mistake. I think cable's worth having.

***
The score:
Knock on wood, I've gone a whole day without having to have it out with utilities or banks. I've also won an important battle in my war on furniture. One assembled bookcase down, two futons and a dresser to fix.

WTF

Homeownership has brought out in me many people-I-never-thought-I-would-become. The latest and perhaps most worrisome is the one who complains that you can't get good help these days.

I took some friends' advice and complained about what did not get cleaned in the house. The cleaning service offered to come back and clean them. As agreed, I left a list of areas for cleaning on the dining room table. Those areas included ceiling fans (I listed both) and the tops of the kitchen cabinet. On the bright side, the ceiling fan in the kitchen got cleaned-- that I noticed right away because-- who knew-- the top of it was white rather than black. The one in my bedroom did not get cleaned, nor did the kitchen cabinets. This is not okay.

Apart from that, the house is slowly coming together. I have blinds in my bedroom (it only took me four hours) so I don't have to turn the lights off when I get dressed, and the kitchen is looking good. Lots remains to be done, but I'm getting there.

Quote of the Day

Frank Rich on "nobody’s perfect."

Timothy Egan on JTP:

The unlicensed pipe fitter known as Joe the Plumber is out with a book this month, just as the last seconds on his 15 minutes are slipping away. I have a question for Joe: Do you want me to fix your leaky toilet?

I didn’t think so. And I don’t want you writing books. Not when too many good novelists remain unpublished. Not when too many extraordinary histories remain unread. Not when too many riveting memoirs are kicked back at authors after 10 years of toil. Not when voices in Iran, North Korea or China struggle to get past a censor’s gate.

and

Most of the writers I know work every day, in obscurity and close to poverty, trying to say one thing well and true. Day in, day out, they labor to find their voice, to learn their trade, to understand nuance and pace. And then, facing a sea of rejections, they hear about something like Barbara Bush’s dog getting a book deal.

Writing is hard, even for the best wordsmiths. Ernest Hemingway said the most frightening thing he ever encountered was “a blank sheet of paper.” And Winston Churchill called the act of writing a book “a horrible, exhaustive struggle, like a long bout of painful illness.”

I disagree

Okay, this kind of logic is just f*ing absurd and dangerous:

In India’s city of gold, the distinction between public and private can be bewildering. For members of the working class, who often cannot afford housing, public sidewalks become living rooms. In the morning, commuters from gated communities in the suburbs pass children brushing their teeth at the edge of the street. Women are forced to relieve themselves on the railway tracks, usually in the dark, for the sake of modesty. The poor sometimes sleep on highway medians, and it is not unheard of for drunken drivers to mow them down.

Mumbai has been roiled by government neglect for years. Its commuter trains are so overcrowded that 4,000 riders die every year on average, some pushed from trains in the fierce competition to get on and off. Monsoons in 2005 killed more than 400 people in Mumbai in one day alone; so clogged were the city’s ancient drains, so crowded its river plains with unauthorized construction that water had nowhere to go.

Rahul Bose, an actor, suggested setting aside such problems for the moment. In a plea published last week in The Hindustan Times, he laid out the desperation of this glistening, corroding place. “We overlook for now your neglect of the city,” he wrote. “Its floods, its traffic, its filth, its pollution. Just deliver to us a world-standard antiterrorism plan.”

WTF? Thousands of people killed a year from overcrowding, but that's less important??

No love for the Prime Rib of Propecia

On my way back to DC earlier this week, out of my window seat that no passive-aggressive family tried to wrest from me, I watched, on that beautiful, clear, day, as we flew over many of the city's landmarks as well as those-- such as Georgetown-- to which I had a personal connection. And it was odd to see them so perfectly square. It looked like a model. Which made me think, "What's this?? A school for ants??"

Which in turn made me think that the cable networks aren't broadcasting heroism equitably. I'd mentioned in a post last weekend that many worlds were being saved at the same time, including but not limited to Middle Earth and the Galaxy Far, Far Away. With all that going on, could they maybe spare some airtime for a different kind of superhero?

The nerve

Suck it, Gov. Rendell. See also Gail Collin's latest column.

Also, a very thoughtful piece by Bill Ayers.

Which utility is messing with me now?

Did I ever start that blog label-- horrendous customer service? I have a new category-- The Nightmares of Home Ownership: utilities edition.

Well, you know about Verizon. They did send a technician out to fix the problem, and then some nice Indian helped restore my internet service from there. I've really had my share of talking to the Indians over the last few weeks. The whole experience brings out the protectionist in me.

Not having internet was difficult, but it didn't truly suck. What did truly suck was having my water cut off.

You see, when the water people were supposed to transfer the account for this house to my name, they came by to read the meter. But the meter was piled over with the previous resident's trash, so they couldn't.

Now, if you were the water people, you would probably do something innovative, like call me. But no. They just left the account in the previous resident's name, and then, a few days ago, cut it off for non-payment. And they never address these issues the same day, apparently by policy. They said on Friday they would restore my water. So imagine my surprise when I came home on Friday, all excited to experience modern plumbing at home, to discover no water. I called. They told me the water had been turned on. I begged to differ. They sent out an emergency technician, who turned on the water (and agreed that the water had not been turned on). Great stuff, I tell you.

For a while, ADT was off my shit list, and technically my gripe is with their authorized dealer rather than ADT itself. You see, they couldn't activate my monitoring until my phone was fixed, so although I had arranged for a technician to come out Friday, I called on Wednesday to postpone that appointment. But on Thursday, they called to confirm. I told them to cancel. Yet Friday, early afternoon, they called to confirm. I told them to cancel. So on Friday, late afternoon, they called to say the technician would be there in 15 minutes. I told them that I had canceled twice. They acknowledged that those phone calls had taken place, plead confusion.

It gets better. They waived my activation fee, but asked me to write a voided check nonetheless to show proof of account. The technician asked me to void it across the back, so I did. So imagine my surprise when my bank account showed an overdraft fee, because those jackasses tried to deposit a voided check, and the jackasses at the bank processed the transaction. Stellar.

Adding to the joys of this week is the incorrigible dumbass that is my cat. I moved her on Monday. She wasn't happy, whined even more than usual. On Tuesday, a cleaning crew came through. Second one-- the first one did a very poor job. This second one came highly recommended. And yet, things are still dirty. Is it too much to ask, when people are charging you $230 for 1,400 square feet, to clean the tops of cabinets and ceiling fans? I didn't ask them to make my bed hotel-style or consolidate my strategically separated piles of paper. I asked for them to clean the parts of the house I would have a hard time cleaning.

But I digress. The day they came, Gracie was nowhere to be found. I was really worried, to the point where I was actually relieved when the little bitch woke me up with her whining at 4:30am the following morning. So I wasn't worried when I heard but didn't see her the following evening. I looked around, but she was nowhere. Eventually, I deduced that she had climbed into a hole in the wall and was hiding under the stairs. She wanted to come out, but not enough to show her face. Until the next morning, when she'd apparently had enough and stuck her head out so she could be rescued. I had to lean over the filthy heating system and scoop her out by the scruff of her neck. Keep in mind this was one of the mornings that I had no water.

Which, by the way, should really be cause for reflection on how most people in this world lack water on a daily basis. And I acknowledge that. But it still sucked to be without it for two days, even though I had access to water (and even showers) at work.

***
Things are starting to look up. After all, my internet and water are restored, and my cat is not stuck inside the wall. I'm slowly making headway with all these boxes, although there's still stuff everywhere. Still, it's starting to look more and more like a house.

The kitchen is coming together, as is the dining room. You wouldn't realize how little I drink or how much I hate people based on how much decorative drinkware I have.

Oh, and I actually fixed something today. It wasn't complex, but it did require a minimal amount of critical thinking.

It's good to be back.

Helicopter parents expand their ground

Interesting. When I studied abroad I learned to survive and thrive away from hen-pecking (although it took another decade or so for my parents to realize that). That was as much part of the experience as the actual academics. Yet, this generation takes the helicopter parents along in a way.

***
Yes, men writing women is tricky. I'm a bit distrubed by the glowing reviews for "The Widows of Eastwick;" I couldn't finish "The Witches of Eastwick" because Updike's writing women just didn't work for me. I also realzie that people have completely different takes on this issue. To me, Roddy Doyle's "The Woman Who Walked into Doors," in many ways a work of genius, is brilliant in his writing of Paula, but someone I knew was adamant that no book felt more like a man writing a woman. She preferred Wally Lamb, but when I read "She's Come Undone," I felt that few other books felt like a man writing a woman.