Just another day...almost

How has it been SIXTEEN YEARS?

Today is 12 January. Just another day...almost. This day took on spectacularly awful meaning when I was 17 - but that is past trauma and I'm not here to rehash that. Let's just say that an awful
experience made me who I am today, in part at least.

In 2006 it was the day that I lost my Profee. He had a tumor in his noggin that was growing rather aggressively and inhibiting his ability to open his mouth all the way. In addition, it was placing a lot of pressure on his considerably large and brilliant brain, and he was changing - his patience was waning and his perception of events was skewed. I remember driving to Anderson, SC from Montgomery, AL where we lived to see the only vet to whom I'd trust my sweet greyhounds. I remember being out to grab a bite of lunch while Profee was being sedated and the lump on his noggin x-rayed with a view to biopsy whilst he was under.

I remember the phone call with the results - them telling me that while he was the sweetest dog and the other half of my soul, for sure, that he was also a 75lb dog with the body of a top athlete, and that if his misunderstanding of a situation and pain continued to increase at the rate we'd seen, I might be putting my other two greyhounds and my cats in danger. The kind vet also said that he would be remiss if he didn't mention that I could be putting my self in danger as a single person with a pack of hounds and cats if one of the hounds decided I was a threat.

That vet was right to mention that, and to this day while I hate the decision I made just to not wake him up...I hate that I didn't tell him goodbye or gaze into those eyes one more time...I don't regret it. The damage it would have caused if he had snapped suddenly - which was a real threat, since the tumor was just behind his ear on the top of his head and pressing on his skull - would have been irrevocable. He had already snarled at me for surprising him more than once if the room was dark or he was asleep. I didn't want to remember him that way, and I didn't want him to be lost to me like that. He trusted me to make that decision for him and I did.

It was around this same date that I lost my sweet kitty girl, Franny. Franny and her brother Zooey moved to West Virginia, Athens, and South Carolina with me. While she made no secret of the fact that she loved my ex-husband infinitely more than she did me, we tolerated each other. We both loved Zooey, so we had that in common. When the time came for her, I knew again that it was the right thing. We'd lost her brother Zooey a year or so prior and she was just wasting away. I think she would have loved England and adored Simon, but maybe her little kitty heart only had room for one Daddy.

I haven't lost anyone on 12 January in a long time, and maybe I can give this day another try. It is close to my sweet Ciaragh's birthday - and she reminds me so much of my Profee that I wonder if he sent her to us...he and Daisy that is, who never met on earth but I have no trouble imagining in collaboration at the Bridge. Maybe 12 January won't make me twitchy in future and maybe the 17 year old me who cursed this day and all it brought me will be able to rest.

Maybe.

Notes from Exile: Week Two in the DayJob

Old Main Building, Clemson

I know that I have titled this "Week Two" but it really doesn't feel that way. The first week was only three days of classes and two days of absolute soul-crushing stress, so I'm not sure that makes a week. Instead, I am fairly sure that it has been about six months since I was celebrating my last week of the weirdest summer break I've ever had.

In retrospect, that's pretty normal for the first week of a semester, so I guess I should be glad that it didn't seem like a year. Interpreting into a camera has been very different from sitting in the front of a classroom and interpreting, and has made me very aware of the fact that I am not suited for Virtual Remote Interpreting (VRI) that is taking over the market these days. I spend most of my time playing dispatch - chasing down zoom links and Canvas sections, which is not that different from what I would be doing in the office on campus.

I do miss having my office mate across the desk. I miss catching up with people from the other offices in our building while waiting on my lunch to heat. And believe it or not, I miss the two hours a day on the bus from here down to campus.

When I envisioned my semester working from home, I have to say this was not what I thought it would be. I was looking forward to a bit of DayJob work, interpreting my class three times a week, getting some novel work/marketing done, and maybe having time to run out for some interpreting gigs here and there. Last week felt more like someone put me in a runaway roller coaster car and pushed me onto the track, swinging me just close enough but not quite to be able to feel like I've gotten anything done successfully. I would just feel like I was catching my breath going up one of those Scream Machine-esque hills before plunging back down into Zoom rooms that weren't allowing the caption writer to enter and videos to transcribe that were due to disappear from Canvas long before I could get the work done. I did not touch anything I've written the entire week.

I finally broke down and got int touch with my beta reader for an upcoming stand-alone novel in a new universe to suggest that we get together to go over her feedback. I'm putting this manuscript up for #pitmad in September, so there isn't much time left before that (if I don't get any requests, I will just put it in the pipeline for self-publishing). We got together at the weekend and went over the novel with a fine-toothed comb and a couple of glasses of wine and I felt the most like myself that I have since March.

Surprising? Yeah, me too. I've been basically with my partner ONLY since March, and I thought that I was introverted enough to be okay with that. I was wrong. It was a good time, socially distanced, and I basically bathed in hand sanitizer when I got home. This does not signal a rapid return to weekly girls nights out, retail therapy, or any of the social outlets I had in what my partner and I lovingly are calling "The Before Times." I'm still far too concerned about falling ill with COVID to return to my old life. I was becoming legitimately concerned for my own mental health, and this jolt may have recharged my ability to wait for safety to return so that we can stand in each other's kitchens, cooking, laughing, and relaxing into our friendships and letting go of the DayJob stress.

For now, though, it's back to my desk, in the office I share with our dogs and the house that has been my world, more or less, since March. I'm just a little better able to handle it.

#tenyearsdunne

Like it was just yesterday. I still remember you on one knee at Manchester Airport (if you want me to say yes to something, asking when I'm jet-lagged and just getting off an 8 hr flight is a good time to ask), and I remember Louise looking concerned that I might have said no when we got to the car. I can still feel the loose buckle on my left shoe that made my leg wobble throughout the ceremony. I can still taste that first sip of Yorks Tea at the reception. 

How are we ten years older in the picture on the right than we were in the one on the left? How have we had ten Christmases and Easters and moved house twice and country twice? How has our house been home to seven dogs and a cat in that space of time? Didn't I just arrive at Heathrow and have my visa stamped? Wasn't it just a few minutes ago when we drove to Atlanta to get my biometrics done, or to Berea to sort out your social security? I'm certain it was only a week or so ago, maybe a month, that I picked you up at Hartsfield right after you collected me at Manchester when we were basically living at various airports and train stations. Wasn't it?

I'm so grateful for the macaroni and cheese, the shared nerdiness, the willingness to put up with my shenanigans, the flashlights bought for me to take to faire, the resolve to get up when the girls are howling so that I can lie in, the whispered, "love you, bye" when I think I've managed to get out the door without waking you, the love of travel and history, the debates over whatever has just been said on telly, the ability not to laugh in my face when I think I'm speaking Yorkshire, the shared love of Greenville, the support and encouragement to be a writer, the shared - and different - expat experience, and all the other things that I have been given over the past ten years that I most certainly did not and do not deserve. 

Ten years done and dusted, and as many more as I can get to come. Love you to absolute bits, Simon.

Further thoughts on the past few days

So a few more things have come to mind since I am now back in my warm office and sipping HOT cider. Like a first-worlder. Like a person who lives in the wealthier part of my town and got their power restored first while Simon and I waited and shivered.

Wow, that escalated fast. For anyone concerned that I was just having a bit of a lie in on Monday or that I decided that I just didn't want to turn up this morning - have a look at that picture and then remember that I drive a Honda Fit. We got a bit stuck when we dropped the girls off this morning and - small car FTW - Simon was able to push me off of the snow drift I'd become stuck on because I drive a matchbox car. That was my street on Sunday afternoon I think.

So things we learned:

• It doesn't matter how many days you have been snowed in/without power, you will continue to try to turn on the lights in your bathroom because it doesn't have a window and it's dark in there.
• Dogs handle adversity much better than humans.
• You cannot use a generator that is less than $300 ish to provide heat to your house because they can't manage more than 6.5 amps.
• If you wait till the day after Snowmaggedon, no one in Greenville will have generators, propane heaters, or, more importantly, propane.
• Harbor freight sells fantastic flashlights.

Okay, now I think I'm finished...unless Duke Energy misses the deadline tonight.

How to avoid Whamhalla and other Holiday Fun

What do you mean we have to leave this warm house? - Ciaragh

Oh, y'all. It has been a DAY already, and it isn't even 1pm yet (almost, though). Let me just recap the past few days for you, my Lettuce Readers.

Last week we heard that there was snow moving into the area over the weekend. Yucky and cold and wet Saturday, snow and sleet on Sunday, and moving away by Monday. Great! Now, normally I like a snow day as much as anyone else does, but not this week. This is final exams week at work and that is a schedule that shall not be interrupted.

For those that weren't sure, that was the point at which Mother Nature asked the southeast to hold her adult beverage.  Sure enough, the cold/wet/freezing happened on Saturday and snow overnight Saturday/into Sunday. What also happened was that at 5am on Sunday morning, Simon woke me up to tell me the power had gone out.

If you were not raised in the South or you haven't lived here long, what happens here rather than a "snow event" is an ice storm, where layers and layers of ice coat everything that it can find - including trees and power lines. (Do NOT get me started on a country as rich as the US that can't seem to understand the UNIVERSAL benefit of burying power lines.) So anyway, the freezing rain and sleet make ice that coats the trees and causes them to bend and sometimes break. It also coats the power lines and poles, making them so heavy that they too sometimes bend and break. If you can avoid that horrific combination, watch out for the ground which will also be covered with - you guessed it, ICE. That makes walking and driving very dangerous.

Let me just take a moment here to ask those that want to make fun of southerners for not being able to "drive in the snow." Just shut it, okay? This is not the snow you are accustomed to - I can drive in that, and did when I lived in West Virginia. This is trying to drive on a sheet of ice that is masquerading as a road. It is very dangerous and while most of us down here are taught to drive on it safely back in driver's ed, we are also taught that it is smarter and safer not to attempt it at all.

Right. So anyway, back to me.

5am Sunday, the power goes out. By 5:19am on Sunday I have reported the outage to Duke Energy. I got back a canned response that they were assessing damage. Groovy. Tuck in the duvet and try to go back to sleep. By 3pm Sunday when it was getting a little chilly in the house, I checked the webpage for Duke Energy again. The little triangle by our street still said Assessing Damage an hour prior while another similar one about two streets over said On Site. But this time, the one a few streets over said On Site still and ours said Enroute. Fantastic! This is the service we are paying so much to have.

Well, not so much. Nothing happened by 4pm, or by 8pm Sunday. We were still not freezing but it was getting uncomfortable, so we decided to go to bed around 10. I checked a few more times before I fell asleep and nothing. It was still Enroute. From where? Roanoke?

On Monday I called into work and Simon and I decided to formulate a plan - buy a non-electric heater or a small generator and a small heater to get warm - buy a camp stove so that we can have coffee and warm food. Surely when we decide to do something like that, the power will come on, right?

Not hardly. It was still Enroute until late last night when they sent another text message that said that it would be fixed by 11pm tonight. So we did what any normal people would do - we gave up on the generator and heater and crashed at a friend's house.

But what did we learn - and are still learning, because I'm not expecting that power to be back on until 11pm on the dot - from this experience? Several things.

1. We are keeping the camp stove even though we did not use it. Just the thought that we could make tea in a pot on that little stove brought spirits up.
2. We have amazing and wonderful friends. Callie brought us THE BEST pumpkin oatmeal I have ever tasted in my life along with some coffee from Starbucks yesterday morning. I could have floated up to the shops after that. Anne and Damien let us sleep in their guest room last night, along with our rowdy and ridiculous girls (who think they are on the vacation of a lifetime right now). Last but most DEFINITELY not least, Robin and Laze are keeping our girls today so that they didn't have to be tucked into their crates in a cold house while we went to work. And all of the FB messenger and text messages that I am still getting asking after us are so welcome and appreciated. It is easy to think you are literally alone out in the cold when you have no electricity or heat in December. We are not.
3. We have so much more than we need and are far better off than so many. Sure, it was cold, but we have a roof and lots of clothes to pile on and blankets. So many folks affected by this cold have none of those things and it truly gives me pause when I complain.

So if you were affected by Winter Storm Diego (Carmen San's wayward brother), I'm thinking of you and holding you close and hoping that you have power and heat...and that you aren't staring down the total cleaning out of a refrigerator and freezer. Ick. But I haven't heard the Wham song, and I am in my warm office with heat and internet so this holiday season may get on track sooner rather than later. I just hope it isn't sooner that our power coming back on...

March for Our Lives

View from the old courthouse steps at the end of the march

So there was this thing yesterday, this public gathering, this demonstration called March for Our Lives. It was started by the Never Again MSD movement that was born out of the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. This is a group of high school students - kids - that have decided that if the adults are not going to act like adults and make sure that they are safe in their schools, it's up to them.

These are amazing kids, and the groups that have sprung up all over the country are made up of even more amazing kids. I feel like I say the word AMAZING too much, but in this case, it is warranted. Millions upon millions of people came out yesterday, all over my country and indeed, all over the world, to join with this group of kids - whose pain is still so raw - to say that enough is enough. They are asking the adults of their world how many more of them have to die before someone in charge does something to make them safe.

I came out yesterday and joined the March in Greenville. I have never in my life seen that many people crowded into the NOMA square at the top of Main street! Now, normally I am not a fan of large crowds, and I will admit to being trepidatious yesterday - there was a point that I found myself spending too much time trying to decide if a man nearby us, who was wearing a clerical collar, had something hidden under his blazer. That's how nervous it makes me - but yesterday was different. I wanted to surge up to the front of the line yesterday and surround those kids to keep them safe from the 2nd Amendment counter protest that we heard was going on just a few blocks down. That's been my motivation in this whole thing - to protect. I don't even have kids, y'all, but the thought of my niece, my friend's son, or anyone having to go through a lockdown drill at school just hurts my heart. It is so preventable! I wanted them to stay kids a little longer because if you hear them speak at rallies or on television, they sound so poised and intelligent - like the young adults they are.

They are often more adult than the actual adults.

But protection wasn't their bag yesterday. They led the march, heads held high, and passed by the...five or six?...2nd Amendment counter-protesters and kept on going. They held signs reading "Am I Next?" and "The NRA is a terrorist organization" and "Thoughts, Prayers, ACTIONS!" There was a rally at city hall, and it was peaceful - but forceful. I have never been so proud to live in my town as I was yesterday.

Tell me what democracy looks like? THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE.

Blogging Face Deployed

Or why I was almost late to the bus on Monday

My "this is getting blogged" face doesn't really work when there's no one around to see it, as happened this morning. I was leaving home and traveling up the big road that connects to our road.

A bit of explanation for those not from the South: a "big road" is one that has fast moving traffic on it and leads to an "even bigger road." For those familiar with Greenville, South Carolina, the "big road" in question is Keith Drive, in the Overbrook area.

So back to me traveling along the big road on my way to the four way stop at Lowndes Hill Road. Y'all, four way stops are the absolute bane of my existence because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO USE THEM. You get to proceed based on WHO GOT THERE WHEN unless you all, miraculously, arrived at the same time. There was no such miracle this morning.

I got there first, then the car in the oncoming lane and THEN the car to my right rolled to a stop...or so I thought as I proceeded into the intersection. Car To My Right pulled out in front of me and turned right, I suppose, because I was moving too slowly for conditions. That condition seemed to be late arrival at work at the Greenville Humane Society, if the next few minutes were any indication.

I texted hubs to ask if he knew of anyone there with a vehicle matching that description and he didn't, so we moved on...sort of. Y'all...it is not hard to wait your turn. Not hard. The fact that you didn't make it out of the house on time to get to work is not a Go Through Every Intersection First guarantee. Sorry. I'm just glad I was moving slowly or else I would have known for sure who was driving that car because it would have become part of the front end of my car.

So, happy Wednesday, and if you haven't already, review the rules on four way stops. This is why our country can't have nice things like proper roundabouts...there would be carnage.

Flashback Post: The Aftermath of Snowmaggedon 2015

Rock on with your bad icicle selves...

First, please read this: In which I rant...

Now, as you know, there was another Winter Weather Event here in the Carolinas a few weeks ago.  Our meteorologists went crazy predicting 10 inches of snow and ice and all sorts of mayhem.  Didn't happen exactly like that but apparently there was enough chaos of the frozen variety that my University closed for a day and a half.

And once again, thanks to those who can afford time at work without pay, some of it was not "forgiven" by the governor's office.  Seriously, if you're going to order us to leave then go on and pay us for the time that we are not permitted to be at work.  It just makes sense...

Lions and...yeah, you know the rest

Tower of London, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

I don't have much to say today, and clearly haven't all summer, if you go by my blog here! I'm formulating a "catch-up" post about what has happened since returning from Europe, Simon moving to the US, and our seemingly never ending search for a house in Greenville. In the meantime, please enjoy these lions made of wire and mesh that grace the front of the Tower of London.

Hey, at least it isn't a bunny with a pancake on its head...

Seriously.

Seriously., a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

I need for all the crazy to stop, please?
I need to be able to go to work and not get my back up before I even walk in the door.
 I need for this insane pulled muscle under my left shoulder blade to GIVE IT A REST ALREADY!
I need for a rental house with a fenced yard and no defects and the ability to lease for 3 months to materialize in Greenville proper or I'm going to end up in an outlying area and be VERY VERY cross.
I need a vacation.
I need the Loco to Stop.

Changing Templates...again...

pretending to be audrey hepburn NYC 1997, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

So I typed out a fabulously pithy post this morning about changing templates here at the Lettuce and in my own life, and, as is the way with marvelous prose that I've created, the Universe ate it. I think it might have belched afterward and asked for a mint.

The gist was that I've been thinking a lot about changing the template, if you will, of my life and starting with something new that looks and feels different, and this morning I was totally on board with that idea. By tonight, though, after loads of fighting with Flickr and Blogger and my own Old Lady Brain, I'm thinking maybe familiar is best. Give me a few days, I will have changed templates a dozen times.

The picture over there was taken at Tiffany's in NYC on my Spring Break trip in 1997. I was still single, still in love with Audrey Hepburn and acting and the theatre. I had been to the UK for six weeks two years prior and it had changed my life. I didn't have any greyhounds or an English husband or an ex-husband or any of that. I was just me, that version of me...that template.

Is there a limit on how many times you can change a template out? Hope not.

On nomadic life...and happy surprises

The haul, ready to head back home
Originally uploaded by Nancy Dunne

I've been very fussy lately. Yeah, those of you that know me, way more than normal. Can you believe it? Aren't you glad you're not exposed to it daily? I think that I've pinpointed why...I am not meant to live like a nomad.

Granted, I have a fantastic set of parents that have let me all but take over the back part of their house. My things are all over one of the bedrooms. There are enough renaissance festival gowns hanging in the "big room" to make Elizabeth I's closet cry out in jealousy and shame. But it isn't MY space.

I have fabulous friends that let me stay over at their houses when I need to travel for work. I have an absolute SAINT who is keeping our new greyhound, Clown, until I have a permanent place to go that allows dogs. But that isn't my space.

I had an almost breakdown Monday night at the prospect of more traveling. This week it is particularly busy because I'm working two days in Greenville and interviewing for a full time job in Charleston in between. But I slept on it, packed my bag, and headed north on autopilot...

...and it's all fine. Jobs in Greenville sorted. Interview to prepare for but really...I am what I am and this is the third one so...? Good tunes and a good car to drive down to the beach.

Life at the beach could be incredible. What's the happy surprise then? That I'm still hanging on and in...that I've been living from a suitcase since May and I'm getting to be okay with it...and that the trousers I bought yesterday were too big. Happy surprises, all of them. Here's to having another happy surprise after that interview tomorrow...

C'ya Later, Ray.

Today the Zoo and I are mourning the loss of one of our own "from anudda mudda," Commander Ray, soulmate of my dear friend Anne.

Dogs don't know about beginnings, and they don't speculate on matters that occurred before their time. Dogs also don't know — or at least don't accept — the concept of death. With no concept of beginnings or endings dogs probably don't know that for people having a dog as a life companion provides a streak of light between two eternities of darkness.

Stanley Coren

Ray Ray, we miss and love you to absolute bits. Say hello to H and J for me, willya?

Just in case you still wish you were me...

Today I got myself trapped in my bedroom.

Yep, that's right, trapped. As in couldn't get out. As in door won't open and there's no way to go out the windows because my bedroom is on the second floor.

Here's the lead up...

I was on call this morning for an admission to the psych hospital. I was asked to come to a meeting an hour's drive from home to get some information on the patient from the case manager. So off I go, dressed to the nines (having originally been in a T-shirt and jeans since I knew I'd be going on the men's ward) to drive an hour away to a meeting...a meeting that I knew I'd be attending for about 10 minutes before I had to dash south to the hospital.

Sure enough, I was no sooner in the meeting room but I was again hurtling down the highway, planning to stop at home and put on my more androgynous outfit from earlier in the morning and then go straight to the hospital. The patient was coming from a good ways away so I felt sure that I would have time to change and even grab some lunch.

Speaking of lunch, I'd have to give the chicken sandwich at McDonald's a Nice Try. It's clear that it was supposed to resemble the Chik-Fil-A sandwich, down to the boiled/bagely texture of the bun and the pickle. Supposed to, but didn't. Reminded me more of the chicken we used to get in the lunchroom when I was in school. But back to the story, lunch comes long after the issue with the bedroom door.

I stopped by the house and dashed in the door, barely shutting the front door behind me. Up the stairs and to the left (that was for you, Liz), please, and into the bedroom with Jeany to change back into my "Looks Like A Boy" outfit. Of course, I didn't want Jeany running into the dog room and getting the other two all wound up so I shut the bedroom door.

Problem. When the bedroom door shuts, it sticks along the top. This isn't usually a problem because the door opens inward and I can hit it near the top as I turn the knob and it opens without a problem...from the outside. From the inside it doesn't budge.

Guess who's claustrophobic? I paced, I cried, I'm sure I scared Jeany to death. I hit the door, I kicked the door, I tried to get it to open by shoving an underwire (don't ask) and a metal bookmark between the door and the top of the door jam. Both those objects are now bent.

I called my parents for ideas. Mom asked if I had a knife in the room with me.

Pause. A knife? In my bedroom?

Anyway, then Simon called and tried to talk me down. It wasn't working. He did come up with the suggestion that saved the day, however. "Have you called Katy?" he asked. I love the text I got back from her... "Here I come 2 save the day!" Bless. I'm so glad she and her husband were close by and had time to come help me or I might just still be there.

So yeah, save your envy for another post. Today was not a day I'd wish on anyone...except those folks that think claustrophobia is a joke...

Is it Wrong...?

...to wonder why I sometimes smell dead things in and around my house, but can't find the source?

...to wish that the people that worked at the dry cleaner's next door would stop talking so loudly in the parking lot that I can hear them inside my house with the doors shut?

...to ponder letting the dogs out because I know they'd run to the fence and said dry cleaner employees would run screaming back into their building?

...to wait until the 16th to buy a new vacuum, making it a month and a half since my house has been vacuumed?

...to hope that I don't go overdrawn in my checking account before the 16th?

...to be anxious that today is exactly six months till my wedding! (thank you, Simon...)

Gone, Daddy, Gone, the house is Gone

My apologies to both the Femmes and Gnarls Barkley...

It occurred to me this past weekend that The Other House is now the property of the Guy From Out Of Town that couldn't wait till December to move in and caused me to have to move down the street for six months. I hope that he is enjoying the slightly drafty windows and the mice as much as I'm enjoying my new place...complete with a staircase that would make the machines at the gym shrink back in awe and a backyard that my dogs can actually RUN in, rather than just spin in circles while trying to avoid the concrete and the oddly placed Sandy Spot.

We're doing well so far, living one block down the road. The dry cleaner next door is an absolute pill, but other than that it's not so bad. Seriously, who needs their clothes drycleaned at 11pm on a weeknight, and if it's just what they do as a business why is it only on certain nights? Do they have my house bugged so that they will know when I am having yet another fit of insomnia which causes even the slightest noise to bring me back WIDE AWAKE? I ask because the noise coming out of their building isn't slight. Seriously, who needs LOUD machinery in a METAL building in this day and age? My favorite part, though, of living next to them has got to be the fellows that blow all of the garbage and leaves out of their parking lot INTO MY YARD at 8am every Monday morning. Seriously. The smell of the gasoline from the blowers is intoxicating.

Mills has adjusted to the new house...he now runs the Feline 500 up and down the stairs rather than by running from the office to the kitchen and ending up clinging to the side of my bed like a tiny furry mountain climber. I just wish he wouldn't do it at 4am because it makes me think Hunky has taken the fast track to the downstairs. And I wonder why I can't sleep?

Hot Dogs at the Ballpark

Hot Dawg
Originally uploaded by Nancy Allen

So it sounded like a great idea at first...the Greenville Drive, our local minor league baseball team, partnered with the Greenville Humane Society to host "Bark in the Ballpark," a day where baseball lovers could come out to the park and bring their furry family members along as well. Our greyhound group discussed making an appearance and the local greyhound club took the reigns to organize something with the Drive/Fluor Stadium so that not only could we have a tent to sit under, but we could talk about greyhound adoption in between innings. The kids and I headed downtown, me with "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" ringing in my head and them with "She's Taking Us Out of the House!!" written all over their smiling greyhound faces.

Those smiles faded quickly, though, when we arrived. I had budgeted for free parking (What was I thinking? Just because Greenville is littered with parking decks that there would magically be one at the stadium? Silly me...) and $5 general admission, leaving me a bit of cash for a drink and maybe some ice cream...it is June in the southern United States, after all.

No parking deck was to be found but there were lots of helpful people with orange flags ready to direct me into the surrounding parking lots and take $5 of the cash I'd brought so that I could park there and walk to the stadium. We did that, and started up the hill on the hot pavement toward Fluor Stadium. Got to the ticket window and there were all kinds of dogs there...on flexi-leads. I'll save that rant for another post.

Up to the window...1 for general admission, please? She asks if I have dogs. Yes. She asks how many. Three. She explains that all the dogs are in the reserved seating so that will be $6. Okay. My $5 plan has become $11 in a matter of minutes, but I'm still hanging in there. That's what man made debit and credit cards for, right?

I asked her about where the tent for the greyhounds would be, and if that was in the reserved seating. She didn't know what I was talking about. That should have been a sign for me to take the money and run (sorry...had the car radio on 70's rock all weekend) but I didn't. We headed into the stadium.

The Greenville Humane Society had a tent right at the entrance with water bowls...we skipped that because I was just positive that we'd have plenty of water at our tent.

Only there was no tent.

The organizer, the one that had called to set up the tent and the between-innings appearance wasn't there. In fact, I only found three other families from my adoption group still there by the time we got there. We, along with all the other dog people, were put out on the concrete just behind reserved seating (if you're looking at the baseball diamond we were just behind first base). Next to us was the concessions area with blessed shade, and before I'd even found my group I was headed there so the kids could cool off from the walk from the car/standing in line in the sun to get tickets.

A very apologetic young man in a Greenville Humane Society shirt stepped in front of me to tell me that dogs weren't allowed under the shade at the concession area, but that he would be glad to hold them for me while I went to get food.

Let me just process that a moment...I don't fault the humane society because they were just doing what they were told by the stadium...but you'd think, being the HUMANE SOCIETY they would see a flaw in not allowing dogs in the one place in the whole stadium that has shade...in June, in South Carolina, at 4pm in the afternoon when it is 80+ degrees Fahrenheit outside. But I digress.

I found the other members of my group and stayed about half an hour. We shared our car mat to at least give some barrier between the dogs and the concrete. They shared water and Miss Becky even got an ice cream for them to share with her boy Stormy. Finally I decided that I'd had enough and that the dogs had long since had enough, so we left to go home.

Perhaps this is why I prefer soccer?

The Traveling Wilburys...err...Lassiters...err...

Here's a quick summary of the past three weeks of our lives.

4th-6th June

Took time off work to pack and get ready to move, hoping the movers would be available on Friday, 6 June. Wrong. Book them for Saturday, 7 June instead. Took my time doing anything, really, that resembled packing/cleaning until late on Thursday, 5 June when I realized that my parents would be arriving the next morning.

7th June

Movers arrive on time. All goes well until they try to get my sofa, chair, and refrigerator in the house. After much prodding, struggling, and some disassembly, all three items are in place and movers leave. Mom and Dad hang around for a bit and then head home.

(And from the files of this ONLY happens in my family, they were hit by a bear on their way home...at least that's how Mom tells it. Poor BMW. Poor Bear.)

8th June

Sorted out what's left of what is now referred to as "The Other House." Cleaned the front of the house. Stacked all that's left to be moved (from the front rooms) in the sitting room by the door and vacuum. Looked despairingly at the rec room and headed to "my house" to plug in the cable box and modem and watch TV/surf the net/play Everquest in an attempt to forget about said rec room.

(Did I mention that when I called Charter to transfer my service I found out that the folks that lived here before me never cancelled their service when they moved and I therefore had to wait till I could provide proof that I lived here - a lease - before they would transfer it? Did I also mention that I was advised BY CHARTER to go on and use the connections that were still live in the house until it could get transferred because it was already paid up in full? No? Ah. My bad.)

Plugged in cable box...waited for 12:00 to magically switch to the time. Waited a little longer. Wonderedwhy the box says 105 (BBC America, natch) but nothing is happening on the screen. Found cable wires all over the house and started attaching them one by one to the modem. Wondered why nothing is happening. Called Charter.

Discovered that a. the family that was here before didn't use Charter for television, hence the black screen on the telly-box and b. that there was at least ONE live connection for the internet somewhere in the house. I just had to find it. Further discovered that when the first Charter employee told me that all I had to do was be at the house when the tech showed up, lease in hand to prove occupancy...well, the nice way to put what he said was that she was wrong. Canceled that appointment...which was a mistake. (Found out later that because it was canceled I now have to start all over with a very long visit to the local Charter office...but thanks to a lovely employee called Maria I'm set for this coming Friday to have my TV and internet back.)

Found hot line for modem. Logged into email and Everquest and happy happy happy. Slept downstairs on the sofa with the dogs around me wondering if this was all going to turn out to be a mistake.

9th- 13th June

Have you ever had to go to work AND try to live out of two houses AND try to move out of one into the other all at the same time with NO television to keep you sane? If not, all you need to know is this...I got a lot of use out of "Oh what FRESH HELL is this?" that week (thank you Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, Episode "The Dumpling Paradox")...including a trip to Orangeburg, SC, for work that turned out to be a no-show appointment. Boo-YAH.

14th June

Saturday came and went and was largely uneventful. Had a visit from a friend in town on greyhound business. It was not until later on Saturday that I found that my best friend Leah had fallen and broken her ankle. She was in the hospital and would have to have surgery. Kick my anxiety level on up another notch, will ya? Not quite high enough. That news colored everything that came after.

15th June-Father's Day

Plan: Go to Georgia, arriving 1:30. Have lunch with parents, visit, return home.
Actual events: Receive phone call that house will be shown at 4pm that day even though I didn't have 24hrs notice and I had no way to get the animals out of the house prior. Spend day trying to be happy and celebrate with my dad but internally churn up enough anxiety to drive me inpatient, convinced that my house was being sold out from under me and that I'd have to move AGAIN. Return home, receive lease and reassuring email from landlord that I'm safe here till December. Much Everquest ensued.

Yesterday and today have been pretty normal workdays. Leah came through her surgery about forty pounds heavier in the foot (steel plate, etc) but otherwise fine. No more fresh hell, at least not for the time being. I got to see the mid season finale of Battlestar Galactica on You Tube. I will say, though, that I may have put myself off The Big Bang Theory by the time I get television up and running on Friday...I've watched the same few episodes several times and can quote "The Dumpling Paradox" episode.

"Hey Sheldon, you forgot something!"
"What?"
"This plasma grenade. Looook! It's raining you!!"

It's been...one week...

Not really, it's actually only been three days since I last posted, but I somehow have that BNL song in my head this morning. Perhaps it's because in one week I will be living out of boxes and ready to move down the street.

I don't like chaos. I don't like flux. I don't even like spontaneity, truth be told. I know why...I moved a lot when I was growing up and I never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Once you started to sprout and sink roots they were yanked up and moved to the next patch of soil. Some people compensate for that by learning to love adventure. Me? I learned to yearn for the "after the move" time.

Like now. I can't wait until this time next year in some respects. This time next year I will wake up every morning and see Simon in person, not in 2-D on my laptop screen. This time next year I will be married and moved and hopefully planning visits from my American friends. We will have a house that I won't have to leave in 6-9 months. I will be settled.

But you know, you can't ever really say that, can you? What is settled, but saving up energy for the next change in your life? The one thing I can say for sure is that this time next year I will be spending a lot of time in front of the laptop screen again...but this time I will be talking to my new niece or nephew...because I can finally say here at the Lettuce that my sister is pregnant! And I, for one, can't wait to meet the newest Allen Grady.

Got my wedding dress on Monday so that's one thing ticked off the list. Oh, two things actually, because the electricity will be transfered to the new house next Friday. Now to take care of the water, gas, and mail delivery...notify my bank...notify all my two credit cards...and hope I haven't forgotten anything.

Leap...and the net will appear. I just hope it doesn't have a hole in it.

Back to the Grind...

Got my commuter face on...
Originally uploaded by Nancy Allen

But it's going to be a slow week and a short week, so maybe it won't be too awful. I swear, last week lasted about a month, and having a short weekend due to spending yesterday at the Georgia Renaissance Festival didn't help. The older I get, the more I need to spend lots and lots of time doing lots and lots of nothing to make up for the lots and lots I do.

Yesterday at GARF was lovely. The people down there are so nice to us and we love going to visit, even if it does get hotter than the surface of a dying star quickly in Georgia in the spring. I was amused yesterday to think of how many of the folks that work there (and at the Carolina festival) I can recognize by sight but have NO idea what their names are...sometimes not even their character names.

I've had my scotch egg fix now, though, and should be good until CRF in October. I did get a little misty on the ride home yesterday (in between blasts of cold air from the A/C in an attempt to stay awake) thinking that I had just finished my last performance with GARF.

There are going to be a lot of those this year...my last time going to CRF, my last Beach Bound Hounds...and it's so easy to get wrapped up in sadness and slide off my plateau that I've mentioned in other posts. But this morning I was doing a flickr surf and found some photos of an interpreting colleague of mine and his family...and that helped because I was looking at him and his wife and kids and thinking, "Now I can have that too...Simon and I can have kids and trips to the zoo and nursery school programs and field days and and and..." and somehow that made the melancholy lift a bit.

Off to get the house cleaned up...someone is coming to appraise it for the upcoming sale (yay for rental house living...you just never know...) and if I don't get it tidy then the poor man won't be able to reach the walls, let alone measure for square footage!