News I can use

We have returned from the Heart of Ohio with one mission accomplished, and a whole lot more to accomplish. (and no, none of them had to do with Tom Cruise. Amen, hallelujah.)

First, the accomplished mission--we found a house! A duplex really, in our old neighborhood. It is about twice the size of our current place, at about $50 more a month. Three bedrooms, front and back porch, yard...really just exactly what we were looking for. Sadly, I only have this one photo of the outside as I didn't charge the camera before we left, and it ran out of juice early in the trip.

As I predicted, it was indeed the second place we looked at--although if it had been first we'd have taken it right away too. I'm glad it wasn't 4th or who knows?

The big mission Un-accomplished (and no dearies, I'm not talking about Iraq) was getting a job. I'd seen an open position with an environmental non-profit, and a co-worker who knew the executive director emailed an introduction for me. As it turns out, they already filled the position, and were gearing up for their Really Really Big Membership Meeting on Saturday. The fellow was out of the office both times I called to introduce myself, and they don't have normal voice-mail--in order to leave a voice-mail message for anyone it has to ring through everyone in the office's phones first. I called twice and finally gave in an left my number, as I was starting to feel like I was stalking the guy.

So, it was really weird and awkward--I reverted into my normal southern Yes Sir-Mr. Smith, formality of meeting someone new and important, and he seemed to think I was calling to sell him something, like a vacuum cleaner or Scientology. I was selling something--myself--but badly, and long story short, no job for me. I did find several other options and currently have resumes floating around. If nothing materializes, I could always go back to retail.

And there is plenty of retail for everyone in Columbus. Since we left 7 years ago, there are two HUGE new malls--Polaris Fashion Place and Easton Town Center. When I say Huge, you really have no idea how huge I mean. Huge. We visited both, and spent several hours in each--without actually seeing more than 5%. So, I'm pretty sure that if all else fails, and my arches hold out, I could always resume my retail career...

More on fun doings in a bit, (including THE GIANT CORN!) for now I'm off to unpack suitcases, and well...start to pack boxes...

Last Chance, Last Dance...

So the day has finally come (and gone, it was actually last Friday, I'm just a bit behind on the blogging here...) for the Official End of My Job.

There were times I dreamed of that day--generally in the middle of the State Fair or some truly awful meeting where I was getting yelled at by a roomful of people. But for some reason, I just wasn't ready for it at all. I'm horrible, horrible, horrible at these sorts of situations. I'm a cryer. Hello, my name is Ameliabee and after I saw The Color Purple in the theatre, I had to sit on the curb next to my car until my weeping got down to an acceptable level for driving--and it took 45 minutes.

To say that I got a little sentimental would be like saying that Robert Downey Jr. has a little problem with impulse control. I cried all morning before I left for work, I cried while sending my goodbye email, every time someone new came to my office, on the phone with contractors, the last time I used the copy machine (okay, I'm lying. That was more a dance of joy, but you get the overall picture.) The wonderful folks I work with had a party for me, complete with songs, skits, electric guitars (really!) a funny, funny powerpoint, a t-shirt and poster and other lovely parting gifts. I'll post some photos as soon as I get home--the poster and shirt in particular are terrific. I think I can do that without crying now, but I'm not making any promises.

What you probably won't see are ANY photos of me from that day. As I was getting ready for work, I thought to myself..."People are going to want to take pictures of you today (which I Generally Dislike) so you'd better make sure your hair looks okay and wear your contacts. You look much better without your glasses." Ah, vanity. Of course, I neglected this equation: Contacts+hours of crying=looking like Every Allergy Known to Mankind had been visited upon you. Or like someone who lost a really long fight with, say, Rocky.

So, the whole photo thing didn't work out too well for me. It was only helped by the fact that in most of the photos I am actively crying, and I'm one ugly cryer. I know some women who look so beautiful when they cry... one tear after another sliding down their faces, eyes wide and lips trembling. I get red, and blotchy and my face screws up like someone who just snorted sauerkraut. Not Pretty.

But enough about my splotchiness. It was (despite all my crying) a wonderful, bittersweet day. I'm looking forward to some of the changes in my life, but I will miss many of the wonderful people I've been working with. If any of y'all are reading this, thanks for making me feel more loved, honored and accepted than I've ever felt anywhere before. From one who is currently Sleepless in the Heart of Ohio...

The Coolest

The coolest thing I've purchased on eBay is, as of right now my new Wonder Woman clock. It is shiny red, and has an alarm that sounds like, well...Justice.

Getting Close

Wow. I can't believe that I have only 4 days left at work! While I'm nervous about moving, finding an apartment, getting a new job, finding new radio pre-sets--I'm beginning to get to the Glad Place about leaving my current job.

This is only helped by phone conversations such as this, from my wonderful afternoon:

Contractor: I went to your website, and my company isn't listed.
Me: Did you go to whereameliabeeworks.com?
Contractor:No, I went to notwhereameliabeeworks.com, and I'm not listed.
Me: Um, well, that isn't our website. So...you wouldn't be listed there.
Contractor:Well, how do I get listed?
Me...getting more confused: On our website?
Contractor: No--on notwhereameliabeeworks.com
Me...wishing I had some sedatives in my desk drawer: I don't know because... see, that isn't our website. I just checked our website and you are indeed listed.
Contractor:Well..I want to be listed on the other site. Can you fix that?
Me...deciding that in lieu of sedatives, I could just drink white out: No, I can't because that isn't our company. You'd have to call or email them--I really don't know anything about them. I'm not even sure what kind of business they are.
Contactor: Well, what is their phone number? Can you at least tell me that?
Me...downing a big swig of white out: *Sigh...*

Devil in the Details, by Jennifer Traig

I feel like I'm cheating on fiction, somehow...

But my husband bought me this book, and it was so great I had to share. I'm not a great one for memoirs (but Ms. Nonanon is a memoirs fan, as well as all other things nonfiction. You really should check our her site if you haven't already!) but as Traig writes about a subject near and dear to my heart, I couldn't resist.

Anne Lamott once said that what the world needed were more funny books about dealing with serious subjects (her book Hard Laughter is a case in point) Thankfully, Jennifer Traig has come along with just the funny book I needed.

As the subtitle "scenes from an obsessive girlhood" implies, Jennifer Traig has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She has bouts with a particularly nasty strain--scrupulosity, which is driven by severe and rigorous religious standards.
From several whirls with anorexia, to a personal strain of Judaism so strict she can't bathe for three weeks, eat meat and milk on the same day, or use the letter x (it's a cross, and to touch it means you've converted to Christianity) Traig describes it all from the inside. You wouldn't expect the next words out of my mouth to be "I laughed so hard my chest hurt" but that is in fact the truth.

With her ever changing compulsions, Traig gets herself into some pretty ridiculous situations, and she laughs right along with us. She hints at the unhappiness that (I can assure you) a teenager with OCD feels, and at family strife over her ever changing illness, but she doesn't dwell on it. Far from making fun of OCD, or glossing over the very real consequences of her behavior, Traig is looking fondly at her childhood--as any woman in her thirties would. The only difference is that most women in their thirties don't have memories of compulsory, hours-long, desperate tea rituals with stuffed animals. She is tender with both herself and her family, and the mistakes that, with the gift of hindsight, we can see they made in dealing with her disease. As she points out though, it was the mid-70's and OCD wasn't widely recognized. Through all the hand-washing, rituals, and miles and miles of paper towels the Traigs are held together by love.

As someone who lives with OCD, I know it is difficult to handle, and even harder to explain. Why am I tying and re-tying my shoes 15 times? I have no idea, but believe me, it looks more fun than it is. One of my own personal best answers to the persistent musical question: "Why don't you just stop that?" has always been "Sure. Just as soon as you just stop growing." Now I think I'll give this book to some people in my life, and maybe we can finally laugh our way to understanding each other.

Overheard whilst shopping

Visited a tony housewares store this afternoon--more to look and dream than to actually buy anything. I found the Davenport of My Dreams, and several other things I'll never afford, and in the process overheard a truly strange customer interaction.

The other patrons of the small shop were a middle-aged woman and man. They were very high maintenance--running the very nice clerk to the back every 3 minutes or so, asking the clerk if he could get her a soda, loudly saying things like "What I'm trying to do, is match this to our crystal chandelier. The one in the living room, not the foyer." (which made me think of this skit from SNL)

What they ended up buying were large-ish decorative ceramic balls, the kind you display in a bowl. While the clerk was wrapping them, she asked "So, the warranty from the company is for 30 days, what kind of warranty do you offer or is the 30 days from your company?"
Somewhat confused, the clerk asked her, "We do have a 30 day return policy, is that what you mean?"
"No a warranty." slight eye rolling from customer, "I mean, if they break--is the warranty only for 30 days?"
Yes, you read correctly. A warranty on ceramic spheres. Kind of like for say, computer equipment or a car.

The clerk said, "Well...um, I suppose if they just were sitting the the bowl and broke because of, um, bad um, workmanship..."
Customer, impatiently "I mean, if when I put them in the dishwasher they break..."

Okay. Here is where I was so startled that I let out a little chortle and had to leave the store before I dissolved into giggling. Thinking there was a warranty on what was basically a high-class tchotchke, that is silly enough. But for the love of sweet baby Jesus--why would you put them in the Dishwasher? You are not going to serve food on them. I'd think a little light dusting and the occasional swipe with a damp cloth should do it.

But the dishwasher? How clean do they need to get? And once these are clean, what next?

"Hmmm. You know, my crystal bell collection is looking a little dusty. Better throw it in the clothes washer! That cat looks a little shabby too, better get out the carpet steamer!"

What I did this weekend, by Amy Bee

This weekend, Lisa and I got our pimp on. Snackwise, that is!
Inspired by http://pimpmysnack.com/ we decided to make a Giant Swiss Roll, which we christened Big Debbie.

Here is a sneak peek of what I hope you'll see soon on PimpMySnack!

Big and Little Debbies, side by side:

Next a cutaway view...Mmmmm the Goodness is in the Filling!

911, What is your emergency?

Oh, it has been far too long since we've had a 911 report!
Culled from the pages of several smallish newspapers in OH and KY--and remember kids, someone actually dialed 911 for this stuff. Enjoy!

12:13 a.m.: Criminal mischief: Advised fecal matter smeared on an apartment, Main Street.
And you just know what they said when they discovered this little present, “Oh…”


5:21: Gas leak/strong smell: Advised of smelling gas around John Gray's area
A) I told John Gray to take a dang bath
B) What are you doing smelling his area?

7:46: Abandoned vehicle: Caller advised white car up Castle Fork, nobody around vehicle. Dispatch advised that is called parking.

2:54 p.m.: Attempting to locate a white truck selling meat to elderly people in area of Wittensville.
Caller would like to purchase several pork chops…


9:06: Advised of cream colored S-10, threw garbage out in his driveway, has "Sweet N Low" on back windshield.
Hey now, I’m a Splenda gal myself, but is liking saccharin really a crime?

9:27: Advised he had smoke coming from his toilet, Pointview Court.
Caller advises he flushed firecracker...

3:15: Juvenile complaint: Sixteen-year-old male subject on probation walking behind apartments, Sixth Street.
Probation specifically states that juveniles shall only walk in front of apartment buildings...

11:35: Drug complaint: Request officer in reference to foul smell in her bedroom
Officer advised to search area for John Gray...

4:35: Theft complaint: Advised someone just stole his pants, keys to his vehicle, wallet, will meet officers at front desk, James S. Trimble Blvd.
Caller advises he'll be the one with no pants on...