"Rent Check: MIA"

     I just received my rent bill.  It is for 1-1/2 months rent.  June, of course, and the past due: May 15th-31st for the new apartment....except that I paid the Super when I picked up my keys on May14th...I wonder where that check went...People-it's time to put the cell phones down and focus! 

    

"Cable Catastrophe"

     On to the cable company.  Here was our plan (twenty-something son #1 and I, that is).  I would have the technician come to the old apartment, disconnect all of my cable equipment, hook up the son's new cable equipment, and then come to my new apartment and hook my stuff up.  Seems simple, don't you think?  Well, of course it could not be done this way.  First of all, I had to disconnect all of my cable equipment myself, and bring it to my new apartment.  Additionally, they wanted me to hook it up myself, but since I am not employed by the cable company, I declined.  Needless to say, I had to pay for a technician to come out.  Secondly, they could not hook my son's cable up on the same day, because my service would be disconnected.  Make sense to you?  Me, neither!  So I had the technician come on the day I moved, Thursday, and my son made his appointment for Friday.  I told the technician upon his arrival that I had brought all my stuff as I had been instructed.  "Why", he queried.  "I have all new equipment for you..."  (So why did I unhook and transport all of this stuff?)  "No, thank you", I replied, decidedly bewildered.  "Just hook up my existing equipment...."  So the technician got busy,  and before he left, everything was working just fine.  When I got up the next morning, I had no cable TV or phone service, although I did have internet.  The problem could not be fixed over the phone, even though I explained that I was sure my service had been disconnected.  A technician had to come out.  Guess what?  They had disconnected my service overnight.  The technician corrected the problem, then checked the TV and phone.  Since both were functional, he promptly left.  Then I tried to get on the internet.  It was disconnected.  I had to call the cable company to have them set up my "new" service.  The next day, I didn't have phone service, and I still don't.  I am so sick of dealing with these people that I am not willing to invest another minute of my time.  (I know.  It's kind of like cutting off my nose to spite my face!)  The saga is not over yet.  I received a letter of confirmation from the cable company indicating that my Email address was changed and that I added a user on my account...OMG!  All I did was move!!!!!!!

     Did this seem like a particularly difficult transaction-moving?  Not to me, and probably not to most of my readers.  Too bad none of us works for the cable company.  We could show them how it's done!

"Electricity, or Lack Thereof"

     My tales of woe are not limited to my frustrating dealings with the Post Office. Throughout my move, only the gas company got it right.  I called them, they came on the agreed upon day, and they turned on my gas.  Period.  End of story.  The electric and cable companies, however, were a horse of another color.  I called the electric company on 5/10,  notified them of my move, gave them the new address, and arranged to have the electric turned on at the new apartment on 5/15.  Everything went off without a hitch, and then the bills started arriving.  Not bill, as in one and only.  Bills.  As in numerous.  Four, to be exact.  First I received a final bill for the old apartment.  Then I received a second (?) final bill for the old apartment.  Then I received a bill in my name for the new apartment.  Then I received a bill addressed to "occupant" of the new apartment.  This one was the icing on the cake.  It indicated that someone had been using the electricity there, but that no one had applied for service...  This particular bill was dated 5/21.  Oh, by the way, it also indicated that service was to be disconnected...Does anyone pay attention to what they are doing anymore?  Dare I say it? What the Fudge!  Stay tuned...I will give an update on this scenario, provided, of course, that my electricity isn't disconnected.

"Live and Learn"

     The move was brutal, physically.  I was so tired afterward, all I wanted to do was soak in the tub and go to bed.  I got everything ready-dish detergent in lieu of bubble bath, towels, and improvisational pajamas (in other words-sweats), and then I proceeded to fill the tub.  Except the tub wouldn't fill.  The stopper doesn't work.  Dejectedly, I nixed that idea and started to just wash up and change.  Reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste...of course they aren't there.  And of course, I didn't know where I had packed them.  (I apparently wasn't smart enough to put them in my purse, which already carries everything but the kitchen sink).  The last thing I felt like doing was rooting through boxes, but I did nevertheless.  Mercifully, I didn't have to look too far.  Now to clip back my hair...To make a long story short-I used a paper clip and rubber band. (Ouch!)  My hairband and clip were whereabouts incognito.  On to the hand lotion, which I apply liberally nightly to my weathered hands and elbows.  I found some sweet smelling pink stuff that I hadn't used too often.  It would have to do.  I didn't really like it, as it left my skin rather slimy, and it didn't do much for dryness.  The next day, in the daylight,  I took a closer look at the bottle, and came to the realization that the slippery pink goo was actually...hand soap! I'm not kidding!  This stuff does not in any way resemble any kind of liquid soap that I have ever seen!

     So what did I learn here?  Well, instead of packing my carry on with books, paperwork, and knitting needles, I should have loaded it up with the essentials that I would certainly be needing at bedtime.  Why hadn't I thought of something so simple?  Live and learn.

"You Can't Make This Stuff Up!"

     As most of you know, I moved to a new apartment recently, after living with twenty something son #1 for four years.  I (mistakenly) notified the Post Office of my address change, online, a few days prior to my move.  I did an "individual Change of address" (as opposed to a family change of address.  I imagine you know where I'm going with this.)  Needless to say, my son's mail has been forwarded to my new apartment.  I called the Post Office Friday, and they implied that I must have done a "family change" by mistake. I was confident that I hadn't, but gave them my confirmation number, and had them verify.  Yes, I had done it correctly.  I did the individual change.  They instituted some kind of investigation, and they are supposed to call me on Tuesday.  So on Saturday, the very next day, I get my mail.  In addition to my own mail, I received my son's mail.  No surprise there.  I also received his girlfriend's mail.  (She recently changed her address to my former-on her own-not through the P.O.)  And yes, this goes from bad to worse to worst. Included with all of the forwarded mail was a confirmation of my change of address from the Post Office.  It was addressed to "CURRENT RESIDENT", at my former address.   So, to be clear,  the Post Office is verifying my change of address with whatever Tom, Dick, or Harry may have moved into my former address.  (Oh, did I mention that the Post Office included a privacy notice with my original confirmation?)  Then, in an act of increasingly unimaginable stupidity, they automatically forwarded the anonymous confirmation request to my new address (which turned out to be a good thing).  I was shaking in anger when I received the notice, and I am shaking in anger as I write this.  

     Luckily for me, strangers did not move into my new apartment.  Luckily for my son and his girl, their mail is being delivered to his mother.  I forgot to add that I am also receiving mail for the former tenant at my new apartment.  I can't help but think someone might get this simple address change straight, if only they would remove the omnipresent cell phone from their grasp!  I can't adequately express how often I have seen the mail delivered by a carrier whose head is cocked to one side, because he is talking on his phone.  Shall I go on?  The mail is never placed inside the box.  It is standing up, exposed to the elements.  I have received soaking wet mail, and have found countless pieces of mail on the ground, or even in the parking lot!  What the Fudge!  Wait until I get them on the phone Tuesday.  It won't be pretty.

"Offensive Visitors"

      I do not deal in smut.  I don't know how smutty websites find my blog, but they do.  I clicked on a link today of a site that had visited.  I am generally very cautious in this regard, but this particular site was well camouflaged, and I was completely fooled.  When the website opened, I was met with a young woman's perfectly shaped bare behind staring at me, in a most unflattering position.  (I contemplated criticizing her, when I wrote this, but I do not know what her circumstances are, and will therefore keep my thoughts to myself.)
     However, I will say this: to the people who try to draw innocents in, don't you think people would find you if they wanted to?  I am most certainly not interested.  I find smut vulgar and offensive, and I do not endorse it.  Additionally, I write a clean blog that anyone can read.  I do not appreciate dealers of smut visiting, or advertising.  Please keep out!

"Anchor's Away"

      I have "Aced" another course.  Less than two years ago, I was a fifty-something woman with 9 college credits, and a 2.something GPA. (I can't remember the exact number.  Chalk it up to my age.  Or maybe it was so just so bad that I blocked it out.)  Now, I am a fifty-something College Freshman.  I have earned thirty credits, and a 3.9 GPA.  Out of ten courses, I have nine "A's", and one "B".  I feel such a sense of accomplishment, at nearly halfway to my Associates Degree.  I have more education than both of my parents, albeit less than my sons, which is in keeping with the general order of things.  Actually, three of us may be graduating simultaneously.  One of my sons is currently working towards his Bachelor's, and one toward his Master's.  

     I was somewhat surprised that I earned an "A" in this latest course, Psychology of Aging.  (Attribute that to subjective age.  I still think I'm thirty.  Mentally, at least.  My body reminds me constantly that I am not, in a variety of increasingly unpleasant ways!)   Twenty-something son number one attributes my success in this particular class to my having an unfair advantage.  "How could you possibly do poorly?", he inquires with aplomb.  "You had to have earned the highest grade in your class..."  (Did I mention he and I are not on speaking terms?  Just joking.  I don't play that game with my kids.)  I did, however, find his comments amusing.  He's got his father's sense of humor-funny initially, but becoming tiresome after awhile...

     His perspective, believe it or not, was pretty accurate.  I did not study for this course nearly as much as I did for the other courses I've taken.  A lot of the information was, to me at least, either common knowledge or common sense.  For example, at what age does one qualify for Social Security?  (Sixty two.  I'm almost there-and I'm already thinking "early retirement".)  During what years were Baby Boomers born?  (I'm a Boomer.  The years are 1946-1964.)  What is ageism?  (Age discrimination.  Haven't I experienced  more than my share of that lately, throughout my frustrating seven month long job search...)  Normative history graded influences:  I've witnessed a good number of those.  (For example, the assassination of President Kennedy when I was in the third grade; Neil Armstrong landing on the moon in 1969; the Challenger explosion in 1986; the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995; the horror of September 11, 2001; the Inauguration of our first African-American President in 2009;  and most recently, the Boston Marathon bombing.)  

     Perhaps, though, I am simply becoming more comfortable with my role as student.  When I first returned to school, it had been thirty years since I'd done any studying.  I had to learn all over again.  Quite frankly, I do believe my overall technique has improved...It sure looks that way...

     It is wonderful to have a goal at this stage in my life, especially since the sons are all grown and embarking on their own journeys.  I've had a whirlwind five years, having experienced a number of major life changes, beginning with a divorce (and still devoid of a subsequent significant other).  This latest chapter has included a new education, a new home (my own apartment for the first time-ever), a new job, a new car...A woman can make a lot of progress with a little determination-and without an anchor weighing her down...

"The Spirit is Willing..."

     "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."  I remember my mother saying that all the time.  In my youthful naivete, I thought she was merely lazy.  Now I know better.  Presently, her words come back to haunt me on a daily basis, never more so than during the past weeks.  I moved three days ago, and the job was daunting, to say the least.  It was physically demanding, exhausting, and is not over yet, as I still have tons of stuff to put away.  Okay, not tons, but a great deal nonetheless.  

     I hired a moving company for the first time, but I still found the job overwhelming.  Although the movers belly lugged 98% of my stuff, somebody still had to pack it and unpack it.  Additionally, I carried some of my belongings myself-like most of my clothes (of which there are many).  You wouldn't think that clothes would be heavy.  Believe me when I tell you-they're heavy.  Especially when they have to be carried up two flights of stairs by a person seriously flirting with senior citizenship.  Additionally, I personally moved a myriad number of items that are precious to me.   

    Throughout the day of the actual move,  I was reminded of when I was newly married, at the tender age of 29.  My then husband and I (he was 32), helped friends of ours move.  They, like me, had three rooms of furniture.  They lived in a second floor apartment.  (I moved into a second floor apartment.)  My husband drove an eleven foot box truck from his job, and the four of us spent the day emptying out their apartment, driving forty five minutes, and subsequently loading up their new house.  I remember that day clearly.  It was August.  It was hot.  Yet we pulled off that job like it was something we did on a daily basis.  This move, however, was a whole new ball game.  For starters, I have a bad back, with injuries in two different spots, my lower back, and my middle back. I injured my left shoulder recently (did I mention I'm left handed?), and one of my feet is a total wreck, causing pain all the way up my leg.  Add to that the fact that I am 50-something years old.  WTFudge!  

     By two P.M., my body said "Enough!", and I could barely do another thing.  I sat down, and was basically done for the day.  Luckily, all my stuff was in, although I was compelled to, once again, live among all of my bulging boxes and bags of books, movies, countless kitchen items, knickknacks, etc.  I'm used to that though.  I've been doing it for weeks, while eagerly anticipating my big move...

"Gotta Love Robert Redford"

     "You're much younger than I expected."
     "Thank you."
     "I didn't mean it as a compliment"
(Susan Sarandon to Shia LaBoeuf in The Company You Keep, early in the film.  I was sold at this point, kind of like "you had me at hello".)

     I went to see The Company You Keep yesterday with one of my girlfriends, having chosen an afternoon with Robert Redford over an afternoon with Leonardo DiCaprio.  When I left, it was at the height of a serious thunderstorm, and I actually pondered going back home and cancelling.  The only reason I didn't is because this particular friend is not as attached to her cell phone as I am to mine, and I would not have been able to reach her.  Anyway, the movie was worth the trip, and I thoroughly enjoyed it despite my soaking wet jeans and sneakers.  

     The movie has a stellar cast-many of them old timers whom I never get tired of seeing: Robert Redford, Susan Sarandon, Julie Christie, Chris Cooper.  It feels almost surreal to see these amazing stars, whom I remember so well from their hey-days a number of years back. (That was intentionally vague.  In a way it saddens me to see them aging...)  Additionally, the movie starred Shia La Boeuf, who reminded me of a curly haired Benjamin Braddock.  

     Robert Redford is, as ever, a class act.  The movie was intriguing, a truly good story.  It was devoid of smut, coarse language, and the omnipresent special effects.  Needless to say, I loved it, as did my friend.  Perhaps I'm old fashioned, but when I go to the movies, I was to see a good story.  I don't want to see naked people explicitly engaging in physical relations, numerous ridiculous explosions, nor unbelievable feats of daring, with super human heroes surviving extreme physical assaults.  (Sometimes I believe all of those techniques are to mask a lack of imagination on the part of the writers.)  This movie was a real treat, and I highly recommend it.

    

"Bargain Watch"

     I love going to yard sales, flea markets, and thrift shops, always in search of a bargain.  I have furnished most of my apartment in this manner, saving myself thousands of dollars, and having purchased cozy furniture that I (and my dog) can "live on".  I am not worried if the dog climbs on the furniture, or drools on it, or sheds on it.  I am not constantly chasing him off, which I most assuredly would do, had I invested  a lot of money.  For me, it's a matter of priorities.  Mine are: 1. I want to be debt free. The yard sales, flea markets, and thrift stores that I patronize do not accept credit cards.  2. I want to cuddle with my dog when I read or watch TV.  I used to sit on the floor rather than have him on the furniture with me, and then I decided that was ridiculous. (Besides which I couldn't tolerate the hard floor anymore).  I put a quilt on the love seat, and that is officially our spot.  3. I want to be comfortable.  I don't want to stress if I spill something, or if the furniture gets a little dusty (or hairy).  4. I am a shopaholic.  I can mollify my desire by investing a minimal amount, and coming home with adorable odds and ends for my apartment (or myself) and money in my wallet.

     Sometimes, however, my tactics will backfire.  Like with the black jacket I bought-the one with the red pinstripes.  I spent more trying to match it than I would have on a new suit.  Something similar has now happened with an adorable watch I picked up.  It is pewter, and the band tan,trimmed in brown.  It was adorable, unique, and a real bargain at $.99.  I tried it on at home, and the band immediately broke.  I took it to the jewelry store, bought a battery ($10.00), and a new band ($19.95).  The band is a deep pink, with a delicate design in it.  Needless to say, it doesn't match anything I own.  I guess I should have chosen a black or red band (to match my jacket), or gone to Wal-Mart and bought a new watch for $11.00.

"On My Own Terms"

     This past Wednesday, I dragged myself, kicking and screaming all the way, to school.  I had missed three classes, and I did not want to go on this night. (Thank God for technology.  I was able to Email my papers directly to the Professor when they were due.)
      The problem was that I was compelled to attend, as I had a test to take.  I already missed one test, and I could not afford to miss another.  The impact on my grade, and ultimately my GPA, would have been devastating.  So I arrive at school, sit down at my desk, and am immediately happy to be there.  It wasn't going to school that I minded, it was the thought of going to school.  This was my last class of the semester, except for my final this coming Wednesday, and I am so glad that I didn't cop out.  I got an 85 on my test, received a paper back (A), and got another test back (100). ( I may do very well in this class after all.)  I am usually anal about my grades, and absolutely driven to earn A's.  This past semester was different, though.  Not having a job, and then landing a job, definitely had an impact on my outlook and performance.  Consequently, I have decided to take the summer off.  I want to focus on my new job, as I have a lot to learn.  I am also becoming acclimated to the commute.  (Not to mention that I am moving the 15th of this month.)  By September, I should be ready to get back into the groove of going to school.  I do, however, hate it that I am missing the class I had planned on for Summer 1-Introduction to Business and Technical Writing.  However, I have reasoned that, since I waited this long to return to school anyway, a couple of months isn't going to make that much of a difference at this stage in my life.  I am too old to put that king of pressure on myself.  It is preferable to me that I take my time, do well in my classes,  and do well at my job.  I am trying to strike the right balance, and do it all, on my own terms.

 

"Wild Kingdom in Clark"

"You know this city is full of hawks?  That's a fact. They hang around on top of  the big hotels.  They spot a pigeon in the park-right down on them."*

*Terry Malloy to Edie Doyle in On the Waterfront.

     The city he was talking about was Clark!  Well, not really, of course.  But it might have been.  One day last week, I was taking my early morning walk with Buddy, when I saw a hawk devouring a pigeon right on someone's front lawn!  That hawk was the absolute largest bird that I have ever seen up close!  Luckily, I didn't see him actually swoop down and attack.  The sanitation workers were out, and their truck had obscured my view at just the right time.  The scene was unsettling nevertheless.  It was as if I were watching Wild Kingdom, except it was being filmed in my own back yard.  (I guess I just dated myself by mentioning that show.  Anyone out there remember it?)  So then, for a number of mornings, I was scanning the trees and telephone poles in search of the elusive hawk.  I have tripped a number of times, as my eyes were glued to the sky, rather than where I was walking.  I have since abandoned my search...

"Buddy Breaks a Nail"

     Buddy had to make an unplanned trip to the vet this past week.  My son took him out on Tuesday, and was barely outside when he heard a yelp.  He turned to see blood pouring from Buddy's paw.  Somehow, Buddy managed to nearly tear off a nail.  When I arrived home, I immediately took him to the vet, as I knew this would become problematic.  So the vet, who is very young, and deems himself a comedian, comes out and exclaims "so, Buddy, I hear you broke a nail!" I wasn't amused...  Yes I was.  I thought it was funny, but didn't laugh at the time because I was worried about my dog.  So he took Buddy in the examining room  (I stayed in the waiting room. I was afraid I might faint.)  The vet numbed Buddy's paw, removed the nail, and wrapped his paw in a big bandage.  He prescribed 2 medications, antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory,  and instructed Buddy to stay off his feet for 3-4 days.  The whole thing cost me $181.00. 

     The good news is-Buddy lost two pounds!  I took him for his annual check up early last month, and the Vet indicated that Buddy needed to lose some weight.  At 116 lbs., he was looking rather rotund-kind of like a horizontal pickle barrel on toothpick like legs.  So, he and I began a regimen of walking-thirty minutes each morning before I go to work.  I did not change his eating habits.  He was motivated by a young, sculpted Lab whom we saw walking one day.  I told Buddy that's what he is supposed to look like...Worked like a charm!