Car Woes

This isn't exactly a rant, but it's close.

Saturday I had an appointment to take Tex to the dealer for a repair. Tex must have taken a rock somewhere along the way, shattering the cover over one of her front turn signals. All that was left was little jagged pieces of broken plastic around the edges, leaving the bulb exposed.

In the interest of efficiency, when I made the appointment, I also spoke with the parts department and had them order the part. Tex is a 2009, and I figured (correctly) that it wouldn't be in stock -- so I coordinated the part delivery and the appointment. I thought I'd done good!

However . . . I showed up at the dealer on Saturday morning, gave them the car, told them about the part that was supposed to be delivered on Friday, and waited. And waited. And waited.

About 90 minutes later, the service person came out to tell me that Tex needed new wiper blades and that they'd found an oil leak. They wanted $125 to "locate" the leak. I said "No thanks" and I'd take care of that another time, because I hadn't noticed any oil leak. The service person suggested I put a flattened cardboard box under the car when I park it and then I'll see the oil leaking. I told her I already do that (true) and I haven't seen any oil (also true). I asked them to just finish up so I could be on my way.

Thirty minutes later, I paid and off I went. First mistake: I didn't look closely at the receipt. Second mistake: I didn't check Tex when she came back to me. But 2 hours later I checked -- and noticed that the plastic cover was not replaced!

So back to the dealer we went.

Turns out there had been a "miscommunication" between the service person and the repair person, and they had replaced the bulb of the turn signal on that side, and that's all.

Now I ask you, if you're the service technician replacing the bulb, wouldn't you have noticed that the cover was broken off and there were only jagged bits of plastic around the edge where the cover was supposed to be?      

Maybe they should have been more interested in what I was complaining about, and less interested in trying to find things that I wasn't complaining about so they could charge me for them! I thought that, but didn't say it.

However, I did say it in the Customer Satisfaction Survey they sent me. I'm expecting a follow-up call.

Meanwhile, the whole experience felt kind of scammy. I don't think I'll be going back to that dealer again.

I will be checking my oil regularly, though, just in case.   

Wrong Number

Photo: StPaisiusMonastery.org

When my phone rings and I don't recognize the number, I let the call go to voicemail and call back if needed. That helps me avoid the dreaded telemarketers.

Recently I received two such unknown calls. This mysterious caller left a nice but generic message with the first call, along the lines of "I'd love to hear from you and look forward to your call."

I identified it as a wrong number and didn't think any more of it. I figured the caller would receive her return call in time and all would be well without any intervention from me.

But about a week later, another voicemail showed up. This one was so sweet and plaintive: "I know you must very busy and I hope that you are well. I'm worried that you haven't called, after I left you a message last week. I don't want to bother you, but I so enjoy your calls that I am hoping we can talk again soon." All this in the kindest, most gentle mature female voice you can imagine. I could feel the person being brave and not pushy, but yearning for a connection. There was something about the voice . . . .

I realized that the caller had not connected with the person she wanted to reach, and I couldn't leave this message unanswered.

So I called back . . . and reached the St. Paisius Orthodox Monastery in Safford, Arizona. It's a lovely place, judging from the pictures -- a desert landscape, but also fruit trees, olive trees, and a vegetable garden.

My calls came from one of the nuns there, perhaps reaching out to a dear friend or a family member, maybe a niece or nephew far away. Unfortunately, I didn't know the caller's name, but the person I spoke to promised to determine who she was and try to correct the number.

She hasn't called again. But if I ever visit Arizona, I know one place I will go. 

A Few Steps Forward

I'm thrilled to report that after two solid weeks of rest, my knees have started working again.

I promise never ever to take them for granted.

When they first got bad, I couldn't walk even a single step without pain. The worst part was that both knees hurt, meaning there was no way to favor one or the other. It was truly a miserable experience. I'm sure other people have worse pain, but I'm lucky enough to be pain-free most of the time. Now I have a new appreciation for how well my knees and other joints work, under normal circumstances.

Thanks to my running experience, my soreness became obvious to the point that Kayak Guy took to calling me "Grandma" because I was so gimpy and slow. I needed a walking stick to get up and down the numerous steps at the cabin last week. Carrying anything of substance was out of the question: I could feel the extra load smack dab in both knees.

When I started to improve, I'd walk almost normally in the morning, moving gingerly around the cabin, taking it easy, but by the end of the day I'd be sore all over again.

This week I'm decidedly better, thank goodness! In a few more days I'll start walking for exercise again. For now, I'm just happy to make it into the kitchen without having a conversation with my knees the whole way.

Running, Not So Much

Gemini Springs run

Recently I surprised myself by signing up for a 5K race, planning to walk the route and enjoy the scenery of a local park that surrounds the Gemini Springs pool and run. Proceeds were to benefit the preservation of the spring and I was happy to support that, even though I'd never done a 5K before and generally cast a wary eye on such group activities.

Unfortunately, the race was cancelled due to the hurricane and hasn't been rescheduled. But in a burst of optimism I signed up for another 5K that will take place next year. Not yet finished with optimism, I decided to actually train for the race. That led me to a schedule I found online that proposed to make me into a runner in plenty of time for the race date.

Let me just say that most of my life has been spent avoiding running as much as possible. I've stayed fairly fit over the years, going through spells where I was quite active (though never very coordinated) and then lapsing into the sedentary lifestyle of reading and relaxing more than exercising. In the past few years I've found a good balance with kayaking and hiking, but I still felt I should up my game for fitness' sake. Hence the 5K's allure. It seemed like a nice kedge.

So . . . I embarked last week on the program. It alternates days of walking for 30 minutes with "running days" -- which at the outset consist of running for 15 seconds and walking for 45 seconds, for a total of 30 minutes. Not wanting to time myself so closely, I opted for 20 steps running and 40 steps walking, for a total of 30 minutes. That's just about a mile in distance. Diligently I kept to the program 5 days last week, including the "long day" of 3 miles walking. Having a clear deadline and a definite schedule to follow meant I was highly motivated.

At the end of the week, I felt very empowered by having kept to the schedule. I had created quite a stir in my neighborhood, too. People actually noticed that I'd taken up walking, telling me they'd seen me doing my laps and how impressed they were.

Also, my knees are killing me. This is not a good sign. Barely into the program, thanks to running a pitiful 20 steps at a time, I am wincing along like someone years older -- when I get up from a chair, when I step up or down any stairs, when I first get up in the morning. Yeesh.

So far this week I've taken 3 days off from any walking to recover. Resting seems to be helping. Something needs to be helping, for sure!  No way can I have bad knees if I'm going to continue my other activities. So in the interest of still being able to step over the occasional fallen tree and hoist myself into and out of my kayak, I think I'll be taking some major time off from running, Like, say, the rest of my life.

Stuck in Traffic

If you've got to do rush hour, there are worse places to be than next to the gourmet cupcake truck.

Notes From All Over

I woke up in Jacksonville this morning and went for a walk along the river, just as the sun was coming up. It was just me and some joggers, and two people sleeping in the park. Oh, and some dolphins. That was great!

It sure was different seeing the bridges from the Riverwalk. Last time I saw them, I was kayaking under them. Such happy memories of the crazy currents there. 

I am about 80% of the way toward introducing the kitten to the cat. It is taking me forever. I know it's my own anxiety that's making it such a slow process. I probably worry way more about the What Ifs than both of them put together. But I just can't quite get it done -- yet.

The fleas are terrible this year and I am losing the battle. Today I got flea collars from the vet for both kitties. They are expensive but will be worth it if they work, and I only need to buy them every 8 months, so the per month number is not too bad (balanced against the time and expense of everything I've been doing that hasn't been working).

It has been raining almost every day: huge pouring thunderstorms with lots of lightning and dramatic skies. That's just great, because we really need the rain. And the late afternoon thunderstorm pattern is so typically Florida, it makes me feel like a kid again.

On the other hand, a few days ago a huge thunderstorm at 3 a.m. made it impossible to fall asleep again, after the thunder and lightning woke me up.  I finally just got up and started my day, because it was clearly a waste of time to stay in bed and worry about not getting enough sleep.  

I've been trying to transition my yard to native flowers and plants, slowly but surely moving away from a grassy lawn and clearly defined borders to a more natural layout with less grass and more diversity. Now come to find out this kind of getting-around-to-it gardening is called Slow Gardening (analogous to Slow Food).  I'm trendy and didn't even know it. I thought I was just lazy . . . or easily distracted.

One happy consequence of spending time outside this past weekend was a very cool wicker rocking chair I picked out of the alley, courtesy of my neighbor. It needs a coat of paint and a new cushion.  It's really true: someone's trash is someone else's treasure. I wonder what she will think when she someday sees it happily doing its rocking thing on my back porch? 

Taking a Blog Break

I'm taking some time off work and also taking some time away from most things electronic. I'll still be using my camera, though.

Y'all take care. I'll be back soon.

The Naming of Hal

I finally broke down and got a smartphone, after an exciting hiking experience that would have been ever so much more efficient (but not nearly as adventurous and fun!) if I'd had a working compass or GPS.

A friend informed me that what I had was a "dumb phone." Ouch.

Now I am the proud and somewhat befuddled owner of a Razr M droid.

I'm not tech phobic, so I am enjoying learning new skills like touchscreen, e-calendaring, and mobile e-mail. I realize everyone else has known this for ages, but hey, it's new to me.

I have especially enjoyed testing the navigation feature. It's totally cool that I can speak the address into the phone and it then speaks the directions to me in a very pleasant female voice. I tested it last night on the drive from work to home, and it worked perfectly.

Then I tested it on the drive from home to downtown, a distance of 18 blocks and well, that was not so successful. My driver did not take the route suggested, and the phone did not seem able to recalculate quickly enough. It kept telling him to turn in various directions and some of them were simply impossible.

More importantly, when I tried to exit the navigation feature, I could not figure out how to do that. I decided to turn the phone off, but it continued to give me directions - somewhat muffled by the fact I had put it back in its case and inside my purse. 

That was puzzling, and a bit creepy. How can it still be working if it's turned off?

But at least I got the phone's name out of the experience. I shall call her Hal.     

This "Nobody" is Somebody

This afternoon I was fortunate enough to see a one-man show of the Odyssey, which just might be my all-time favorite book. It was performed by the same actor, Charlie Bethel, who did Beowulf here a few years back. I loved that show, so when I heard he was going to do the Odyssey, I jumped at the chance to see it: it sounded like the perfect storm of actor and subject.

There's not any costuming to speak of, and although there's plenty of set, it's not clearly representational. (This is the "after" version of the stage, which started out much neater, before all the monsters and shipwrecks and the big fight scene.)

Mostly the show is the man and the words. And what words they are!  He delivers an accessible, modern version of Homer's adventurous tale, complete with all the humor, surprise, action, pathos and impact of the original.

Among my takeaways:

Never taunt anyone whose father is a god.

Yearning for home is a lot less painful when you're shacked up with a goddess.

A spouse who is your equal is worth waiting for.

Don't let the fear of making a mess get in the way of a good story.

At the Dentist

My hygienist raises service dog puppies, and her cubicle is decorated with photos of her grown-up babies with their new human partners. I always enjoy talking with her about her latest charge.

As part of their training, she is allowed to bring them to work with her. They nap in a crate in the dentist's office, except when they come out and visit as a special treat for the clients.

This is way better, in my book, than the old days when you got a lollipop for not biting anyone.

Meet Tanner. Pictures don't do justice to how adorable he is.

Down a Peg

Ha! Lest I think the Universe is going to make my life all butterflies and rainbows from here on out . . . now my current residence smells like a rat has died in the walls. Again.

This is my third rat casualty, and until I can establish a secure perimeter, I fear this sort of thing will continue to happen. Because the corpse is inside the walls, all I can do is open the windows, turn on the fans, and hope for the best.

Next up: the appearance of the giant black flies that herald serious decomposition. Yuck.

Joy and (More) Serendipity

All of a sudden, there are lots of joyful things happening in all corners of my life, and I'm starting to get the feeling that right around the bend is one of those flow times when things move effortlessly forward.

I was driving to work yesterday when I realized that the really good feeling I was having is called happiness. Not just Having a Good Day happy, but Satisfied Down to My Toes happy.

Whether it's the cause or the effect of that feeling, these days I have a lot to be happy about. Such as . . . .

I met with a student this week who ended the meeting by saying I should make myself into an app so she could consult me anytime, anywhere. That may be the most unusual compliment I've ever received, but I can go for weeks on good energy like that.

It seems kind of appropriate that on the same night I was introduced to the idea of becoming a cyberversion of myself, I also discovered there is such a thing as "Steampunk-Inspired Industrial Vintage Jewelry."

I don't know much about Steampunk, but I know what I like. Jewelry that's based on a literary genre -- definitely something I like! Even better when that jewelry uses industrial bits and pieces, plus nature charms, and weaves them together in a Jules-Verne-Victorian-science-fiction manner to make necklaces and earrings -- what fun! The vendor I saw at the local after hours event doesn't have a website yet, but her creations were lovely. I'll be going back.


Spring is in full swing here and if this sight doesn't gladden your heart, you are still hibernating. The tabebuia (which also comes in purple) does all its blooming before it bothers to put out any leaves, and a very effective strategy it is, too. I had to make 3 U-turns in lunch hour rush hour to get this shot. And it was completely worth it.

By far and away the best part, though: I had a one-in-a-billion chance meet-up this afternoon that has me walking on air. I wasn't feeling well, so I bowed out of the luncheon I was supposed to go to. Then I had to run an errand downtown that usually our admin assistant would do, because she had the day off. So there I was in the display room of the promotional items store (where I wasn't supposed to be x 2), when who should wander by but the Seller of my dream house! You know, the guy who won't give me an answer on my offer for the house I am in love with? Yeah, him.

We shared a few seconds of the "Where do I know you from?" stare, and then figured it out and had a great conversation. Turns out my suspicions were not true: they do want to move, they already have a place to go to, they are not in denial, but they are working out the financial arrangements with their lender and that has become something of a knotty problem.

It's hard to tell how long those negotiations will take, but we established that they want to sell the house, I want to buy it, and they think I would be the right person to do that. Hallelujah! So do I! Better still, now I feel the universe is on my side in the matter.

And if I hadn't stopped to photograph the tabebuia, I probably would have missed the Seller completely. Could the Joseph Campbell "follow your bliss" lesson be any clearer?

Oops (In a Good Way)

Well, I could hardly have been more wrong!

Made Me Look

I suspect the cryptic message on the marquee means that this out-of-business restaurant is slated for demolition.

But I'm not 100% sure that's all it means.

Hope this sign isn't a sign that I'm starting to suffer from ideas of reference!

"Ideas of Reference" would make a great name for a blog, wouldn't it? So would "Prepare for Oblivion," come to think of it. Hmmmm. That would certainly be a more comfortable meaning than some of the others that come to mind.

Remember the House?

I tramped around my favorite remodeling site again recently, and had another nice chat with the husband-owner-builder-contractor-chief laborer. Prior info and views are posted here and here, if you want a quick refresher and comparison photos.

What would it be like to get up every single Saturday and Sunday for a couple of years and go to work on your future home, with only your dad to help? A true long-term labor of love.

Double that because it turns out that while the remodeling is underway, the husband-owner-builder-contractor-chief laborer, the wife-owner, their 10-year-old son, and their new baby are living in what used to be the playhouse/guesthouse on the property, in only 300 square feet!

Of course, when this project is done it will all be worth it. It was so nice to hear the husband talk about their vision of this as a generational family homestead. He and his wife plan to live there for the rest of their lives, and they hope the kids will keep the house in the family, too. Gosh, I hope that works out for them!

Roof going on, with addition to the right
Front facade, with garage to the left
Front entrance to the garage, a completely new structure
"Floating" porte-cochere between house and garage(Isn't the cross detail great?)
Another view of the front entrance--each space between column groups will be filled with an arch compatible with the arched windows in the facade
Back entrance to the addition, with porch
More or less matching porch and grilling space off the back of the garage
Standing in the original kitchen, looking into the addition, back entry porch to the left--there will be an island separating the kitchen from the living space
The front room of the house with the fireplace--entering by the front door will land you in this formal living and dining room (that's a glimpse of the garage through the window on the right)

Doing It Right

I stopped by my favorite remodel the other day, just to check on its progress. There were a couple of very sweaty men working (it's in the 90's every day here) so I walked up the driveway and called out, "I'm just taking a picture, if that's okay." One of the men came up to the fence, drew back the gate, and said, "You can come in and take your picture, if you want."

Turns out he was the owner! I explained that I was just being nosy, but loved the house and was interested in seeing how the remodeling was going. That loosed a flood of information.

He and his wife intended to remodel the house to make it more suitable for a modern family, but never expected the "remodeling" to go this far. (I kind of suspected that.)

They tried very hard to design the work to qualify for the historical register, but it turns out their plans would meet all but two of the very specific criteria. Unfortunately, they felt that one of the problem areas was simply non-negotiable, because they intend to live in the house with their children.

As it is, they are going to rebuild on the original footprint, plus an additional room on one side, and in the middle of the house, a partial second story that will include two bedrooms. They are determined to keep the original style of the house, with all the bump-outs, pop-ups, nooks and crannies that a Spanish style house requires. But the second story was a dealbreaker: they couldn't give it up, and the historical people wouldn't approve if they kept it, so no go for the official seal of approval.

The rooflines are so crazy, the plans call for 108 unique trusses. There were only about 3 trusses in the whole job that were the same.

When finished, the house will be above platinum certification standards for LEED (Leadership in Energy & Environmental Design) building.

The house was built in the 1920s. They bought it from an 80-year-old man who'd moved into the house when he was only 5 years old, and lived there all his life until now.

It had a porch on it, but that wasn't original to the house so they are not going to replace it.

They got "hate mail" (his words) from people when they started the teardown phase. I guess I'm not the only one who is sentimentally attached to the house.

They saved all the original wood floors and will be laying them down again when the time comes. There weren't any tile floors in the house. I forgot to ask if they saved the doorknobs, doors, moldings, etc. (But I bet they did.)

They have 3/4 of an acre and a guest house on the property, which is prime real estate in that part of town. I can't imagine what that would cost in a neighborhood of $300,000 homes. Meanwhile, the husband and a friend of the family (the other sweaty guy) are doing a lot of the work themselves.

They are not blogging the remodel because they don't have the time.

All this info was volunteered while I was walking across the foundation-in-progress on a very narrow, somewhat slippery plank walkway and getting into the center of the house, which is where these pictures were taken from. Sturdy subflooring was installed where I was standing, although the platform was rather small and a lot of the space was taken up with sawhorses and a power saw, where they were cutting boards for the rest of the subfloor.

This is looking toward the front facade of the house from the inside.

This is looking at the side wall of the house, by turning slightly to the right. They are keeping the fireplace. Directly behind me is where the addition will be.
Here's a partial view of the addition from the outside.

Back inside, this is another slight turn to the right, looking at the back wall of the house. The fireplace is just to the left of this picture, so if these photos were all in a row they would form a panorama. The sawhorses were also behind me in this picture. No way was I walking out on those little narrow boards . . . .

I didn't do a great job on the photos, but will definitely be going back for more as progress is made. The owner said I was welcome to visit anytime, as long as I didn't get hurt and sue him. For a sweaty guy with a lot of hard work ahead of him, he had certainly kept his sense of humor.

I'm thinking the house is in pretty good hands.

Quiz for Today

C.S. was in D.C. recently and toured some rather unusual sites that are not on the customary tourist trek.

1. Do you recognize these steps?


2. How about parking pier #32?

(scroll down for answers below)

Come on, take a guess. It's D.C., remember. (That might help with the second photo, anyway.)













1. Steps where the priest fell all the way down in The Exorcist.

2. Parking garage location where Watergate anonymous source Deep Throat (Mark Felt, Sr.) met Bob Woodward to urge him to "follow the money."

"Remodeling" Hardly Covers It

I drive by this house fairly frequently, and I was heartbroken when I noticed it was being demolished the other day. Having grown up in an old Spanish-style house, I have a weakness for others of its kind. I kept thinking, with pangs of sadness, about its beautiful old windows and gracious lines, and imagining the destruction of the tile floors, wide moldings and glass doorknobs that must have been inside.

Despite its proximity to a rather busy road (check out the guardrail and the sharp turn warning apparatus practically in the front yard), this house sits on the outer edge of a very nice neighborhood with a great location. I figured it was an elderly teardown that was being sacrificed to make way for some hideous McMansion, which is all people seem to want around here these days.

But on a later visit, I noticed something intriguing, so I detoured from my usual route to take a better look. It is possible that they saved what they could and will build around it, and recreate what couldn't be saved? Can it be that they are in love with those beautiful old windows and the soul of this house, just as I would be?

It sure looks that way to me. I think what I see is a new footer going into the ground, and the beginnings of corner pillars that match the corners that are still standing. I wish I knew more about construction!

Good News, Bad News

Time for another installment of Good News, Bad News, courtesy of my dermatologist.

The good news: No lice! Apparently the only thing I suffer from is an overactive imagination.

The bad news: Three little pre-cancerous spots on my face, which were promptly frozen away with that nasty canister spritzer thing-y. No surprise, given my fair skin, history of sunburn, and use of baby oil and iodine as a "tanning lotion" when I was a teen.

The good news: Three spots is apparently nothing much to be concerned about. The whole-body record is 78 such spots. Yikes! I would have to be sedated to have that many spots frozen off!

The really bad news: She was way more interested in my story of C.S.'s bedbug encounter. It was one horror story after another, culminating in advice to:

1) immediately wash all of his clothes at least 3 times in blazing hot water before putting them back in the rotation (oops, too late), and

2) bag his luggage in 5 or 6 garbage bags and keep it outdoors or in the trunk of the car for a week before bringing it into the house (oops, also too late).

You can imagine what that did for my overactive imagination.

The best we can do is what has already been done: 2 washes and a day in the trunk of the car. Fingers crossed that is good enough!

'Tis the Season for . . . Bugs???

One of the side effects of C.S.'s and my birthdays being one day apart--being born under practically the same stars, if you believe in that sort of thing--is that we tend to go through certain experiences at the same time. However, I'm not sure even astrology could explain this latest thing we have in common.

C.S. was in New York on business recently and was bitten by bedbugs in his swanky hotel. Ewwww! We are not talking about some (ahem) fleabag hotel, either! Management was, as you can imagine, very apologetic. Bedbugs are a huge problem in New York, apparently, affecting and infecting hotels at all price levels. C.S. can vouch for that now.

Then it was my turn. I recently spent about two hours in the car with my friend's daughters on the way to a horse event. A few days later, I got an embarrassed e-mail from my friend that one daughter had head lice! Again, a rather common occurrence in schools around here, and no reflection of the class or cleanliness of the family. I wasn't too worried--it's not like we were sharing a hairbrush--but ever since, I've been wondering about every itch. Ewwww! Good thing I'm scheduled for the dermatologist soon, anyway.

Meanwhile, bugs are just one more thing C.S. and I have in common! (But one I could do without, you know?)