Hello. Yes, it's been a while. Not much. How 'bout you?

The phone ringing two hours after I went to bed was bad enough. Forty minutes after that, I heard a nearby siren cut off. (Have I already blogged, "Oh no, not again!"?)

Yup, it was the Noog's friendly neighborhood fire department. Yup, they were looking for the apartment next door again (where the new neighbor lady and her boyfriend, both of whom smoke like chimneys, coincidentally enough, moved in). Yup, there was no fire. Yup, I'd rather have them show up when they're not needed than not show up when there actually is a fire or something.

I think I need to have a plate of cookies or energy bars or something set aside for them the next time they visit. After all, isn't it polite to offer your guests refreshments?

Then I couldn't fall asleep for hours (even after reading) because I couldn't find a comfortable position. How did my back get sore between going to bed and the arrival of the fire department?

An Owl Pun (You have been warned!)

I've been on an owl collecting binge since I got that bookcase with the glass doors. (Don't worry, Betty: one shelf for owls, all the rest for books.) It's amazing how many owl figurines and other stuff one can find at thrift stores!

I did buy a new owl, though. It's nearly graduation time, and the floral section of the grocery store had stuffed owls wearing mortarboards. How could I resist?

It's made by the Aurora company, so I thought that Aurora would be a good name. Check that. Aurora would be the perfect name: Aurora Boreowlis.

Okay, if you're still able to breathe after that one, look at this funny "commercial" for Aurora's kin.



I think I'll ask Aurora to make my dinner tonight. ("Sous chef" just makes me laugh more than it ought to.)

Imponderable #9

Why is a pest pesky, but a desk isn't desty?

When was the last time you encountered a pesk, anyway?

I'm not even sure I'd know whom to esk.

Somebody lied like a rug.

Thing One and I went to the flea market yesterday to look at rugs (for her house and my office). I saw one I wanted, in different sizes, so I went back to campus and measured the rooms in my new shop area.

I wasn't all that surprised to see that the "leftover" tile had been put down in the training room, locker area, break area, and supervisors' office, but not my office. In short, the whole building except my office and the bathrooms. (The bathrooms, which already had this sort of vinyl tile but in a different pattern, for some reason were bare concrete.)

Just exactly how much did they overorder for the previous project? Enough to cover a small building (900 square feet, not counting the office and bathrooms) seems a little excessive when you're talking about excess.

Naturally, I'm a little ticked at Skippy and Froggy now. It would've saved me two visits to the flooring store and a bunch of wembling if they had told me up front that they were going to put down what they had on hand, regardless of what I wanted.

I wonder if they're going to be "nice" and put down one of my carpet choices in my office. They'll probably think it is appropriate for a manager, but I thought the way I had laid out my plans (tile in some rooms, carpet in some, and coordinating with the paint) would've ended up really classy. And now, if I put a rug down on the only carpeted room in the building, it'll look stupid.

Still, I went back to the flea market and bought the largest size of that rug. Stupid or not, I'm going to have my office the way I want it, dagnabbit!

I'm going to break character for a moment...

...but I'm going to do it in my own "I refuse to grow up" style.

I don't normally acknowledge holidays. As it is, I barely knew that Easter was approaching. (You'd think a Christian school would give its students and staff a holiday on Good Friday, but it didn't.) Still, this little duck popped into my head when I woke up this morning.

The Rest of the Story

By the time I first saw the building where my office is to be relocated, the commercial carpeting had already been pulled up halfway. I asked if I could choose new floor coverings and where I could do so. (It took less than an hour for me to wemble. Yay!) I then went to a big-box hardware store to look at toilets, sinks, and faucets, since one of the building's bathrooms has none of those fixtures, and I might get lucky and not be stuck with an old one just hanging around in one of the school's umpteen storage buildings crammed with junk never to be used again. (It took me longer this time, but there were a lot more choices.)

The next morning, I e-mailed my fixture choices to Skippy and Froggy and pointed out that I had chosen the least expensive or next-to-least expensive for each one. I also noted that I couldn't give them my floor and paint selections until I received a price on one of the carpet options. In reply, I was told that there was some leftover tile from one of the classrooms and I'd be getting that. If I had known earlier that they were going to be that cheap, I would've told them to leave down the old carpet and I'd just live with it.

I knew my luck had to run out sometime.

On top of that, the flooring company called and said that there wasn't enough of the carpet I had preferred (ever thrifty, I looked through the discontinued patterns), but they had three other choices also discontinued. Ergo, I went back last night (with one of the sample tiles that had been forced on me, just to see if the colors would still be okay), and my number one and number two choices jumped out at me. Let's see if this e-mail gets approved.

By the way, I can't link to the carpet choices, well, except my third choice, which hasn't been discontinued yet, but if you want to see the vinyl tile I won't be getting, or if you want to see my paint choices, let me know.

Two Moving Experiences

Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere. (I don't think.)

Last Wednesday, Skippy took me to a building the school recently acquired (it had been a sewing machine repair shop) next to an old service station we use for storage. He asked me the possibility of that area being used as my office and shop. We wandered around, pitching ideas back and forth. Overall, there were only a few negatives overwhelmed by many neutrals and positives.

I'm not so stupid that I couldn't read between the lines and see that I'd be moving my operation. Still, I didn't need Froggy zooming around the next day, making oblique comments in front of my staff (whom I hadn't told, since it was discussed only as a possibility) or downright telling his crew that my crew was moving, before it was decided. (Even as of this typing, it's at 90% probability.)

Froggy went for a double whammy on Thursday, as it turns out. He asked Thing One when she would move from the apartment to the house they had been fixing up for her. (On the surface, it's kind of an odd question, since he pulled his crew from finishing the repairs, so the house isn't ready for her.) She suggested the end of the month. "Can you make it sooner?" he asked. She suggested next weekend (this weekend, as of the date I'm blogging). "Can you move this weekend?" he continued. (No, he doesn't have Skippy's tact at suggesting someone move.)

So, Thing One, Elmer Fudd, and I spent Sunday afternoon moving all her clobber (you wouldn't think she'd have all that much, considering she had moved here just in December and all her furniture is still in New Mexico). My new neighbor moved in yesterday. (I haven't met her yet; last night was bowling night.)

I'd like to move Froggy to the moon.

As men throughout the United States give up eating at Chinese restaurants...

Instead of the dining hall yesterday, Froggy insisted we eat at his favorite Chinese restaurant. Since Miss Kitty has accused me of "being quiet" (quieter than normal she means, which is partly true, since she and Froggy have been ranting for more than a week, and I'm sick of all the negativity, so I just keep my mouth shut, but mostly true because she and Froggy dominate every encounter, so Thing One, Officer Krupke, and I have no opportunity to speak), I acquiesced and went along. Two enjoyable things happened, so I guess it wasn't so bad after all.

First, Froggy and Miss Kitty were annoyed because a woman at the next table talked constantly and loudly (in their opinions; Thing One and I didn't notice). I said, "Oh, the irony is thick today."

Second, as we read the fortunes from our cookies, Froggy kept insisting that he add the words "in bed" to the end of each fortune. It was stupid and silly enough to entertain him, but my fortune might not have been the best one to have: You may lose the small ones but win the big ones.

Angioplasty Fridays

Last night, Thing One invited me along to the grocery store. (I needed fruit, milk, and junk food.) She had pumpkin seeds on her list, which we usually pick up for her at the health food store on the North Shore, when we cross the river for cheesesteaks. Later on, she remarked, "We need to get three things tomorrow. Well, two; I can do without one." I guessed cheesesteak and pumpkin seeds, since donuts aren't essential. However, she grinned and said, "Cheesesteak and donuts."

If I ever have heart trouble in my declining years, it won't be solely because of genetics.

Is that anything like wearing your heart on your sleeve?

I finished my workout a little early this morning, so I saw someone in the locker room I usually don't see: the swim coach. I noted that he put on a swimsuit with the school's logo on the back.

I've always thought it strange that a school would put its emblem on the floor of the main entrance of a building (constructing rotunda entrances with emblems in the flooring must have been popular in the 90's because NMSU did it, too), where everyone would walk all over it, but can you really show school pride by wearing the logo on your butt?

Monday started early and ended late.

All heck must have broken loose at 1:00 a.m. on Monday because I heard siren after siren. As soon as one started to diminish, another came along. When I finally heard the last one, I looked at the clock: 1:06 a.m.

I was woken out of a sound sleep last night. Once I finally woke up, I found out why: my cell phone was ringing. Then I fumbled to find it in the dark. Then I fumbled to get it out of the case. The screen said Skippy was calling. (When one's boss calls in the middle of the night, it can't be a good thing.) Alas, just as I flipped the phone open, the tone sounded to let me know I missed his call. I then groggily pondered how to call him back. (Yeah, I was that seriously asleep.) He told me that a tree had fallen and blocked one of the roads on campus. It was 10:30 p.m. (It was still Monday!)

I dressed, drove to check out the tree, and went to the shop for a chainsaw. It started smoking when I cranked it up. (No, they're not supposed to do that.) The other chainsaw wouldn't start at all. I grabbed the small, folding handsaw from my office. The blade bent as I was working. Still, I managed to get enough branches off that the nighttime security guard and I could pivot the tree to the side of the road, so mommies can drop off their little darlin's at school in the morning. I got home at exactly 11:30 p.m., an hour after Skippy had phoned.

It was a long Monday.

A spanking! A spanking!

One of the department stores which I permit to send me offers via e-mail let me know of a new men's underwear line they are now carrying: Spanx for Men. (Note that pictures should not be viewed at work.) According to the e-mail, the women's line has been very popular, so they now offer "slimming" underpants and undershirts for men.

Rest assured, my friends, that I will not succumb to this marketing ploy. First off, I don't want to feel like I'm wearing a girdle all day. (My underwear is snug enough already.) Second, I'm not paying no $38 for underpants!

Oh, and if you happen to have $38 to spend on underwear, would you also send some of that moola my way? Thanks.

Second Verse, Same as the First

Yesterday's snafu was being told by the equipment manager that the baseball game postponed by Monday's storm until Wednesday was switched to an away game. Then, about an hour before the game, the coach showed up at my office and asked why his field hadn't been chalked for the game yet.

Seriously, a lot of people in the athletics department need to be booted in the head. As for me, I could use a stiff drink.

Whatever you say, sir/ma'am.

The morning started off badly enough, when we had to pull the pavilion tent out of the lake because the storm the night before broke the ropes attached to the stakes that held it to the ground.

While eating lunch, the equipment manager phoned me and said that we had to set up the discus and shotput areas for the afternoon's track meet after all. (The coach had told my employees the day before that they wouldn't have to do it.)

While I was picking up the shrubs which the Empress had reserved at the nursery, the Athletic Director phoned me and asked, "Can we move the lacrosse game to the stadium? The lacrosse field is too wet." Oh, and can we repaint the lines on the field, too? (This was about 3:20 p.m. My crew leaves at 4:00.) When I pointed out that there was a track meet scheduled for the stadium, the A.D. said, "It's not a meet; it's a scrimmage," as if that would make a difference in having two disparate sports using the same space.

I delivered the plants, rushed to the stadium, and found my crew already had un-set up the discus area and halfway through painting, with the equipment manager trailing behind them, continually apologizing for his boss and the lacrosse coach (please note that the lacrosse field wasn't any wetter than the two soccer fields, and neither soccer coach, who also had games scheduled, was complaining) and, I'm guessing as an act of contrition, carrying the spare cans of aerosol chalk (which we use because it's easier to remove from the fake grass than so-called temporary paint) for my guys. (Three track teams, including our own, had already arrived at the stadium for the it's-not-a-meet-it's-a-scrimmage. I have no idea -- nor do I care -- where the lacrosse team ended up playing.)

Then I got back to the shop, where the employee who had been on vacation for a week to attend his wife's grandmother's funeral was waiting to tell me he was resigning. There was a bunch of paperwork, naturally, but at least he returned all his uniforms.

You will then understand why I was in the mood to pig out, so I went out to dinner.

I took a chance and succeeded.

I have been quietly savoring my victory the past few days, but I also feel a bit guilty about not posting lately, so I thought I'd share the news.

What I didn't mention in my last post was that the jeans I was wearing in the photos made me look fat. I don't know why; it was the "relaxed fit" of my preferred brand, which I always buy. They felt and looked baggy, however. Could all American fashions have gone that way? Could the clothing manufacturers acknowledged that society overall has gained weight? Or, frighteningly enough, could my exercising actually have resulted in me slimming down?

Well, I could test that question, so I did. While Thing One and I were visiting every thrift store in Hixson, we also stopped by The Maul, and I tried on some jeans that were on sale. They were a different brand from a different store than I usually buy. I took "original" and "relaxed fit" (in the waist measurement I currently wear) into the dressing room. The waists felt the same. The relaxed fit might have felt a little roomier in the leg and seat. Thing One said the original looked slightly better, so I bought them.

Yes, I don't need to wear "relaxed fit" jeans any more!

Okay, it might still depend on the brand I try on (which makes yet another reason for me to try on almost all clothing I want, a condition I have been cursed with since childhood), but... I don't need to wear "relaxed fit" jeans any more!