FINALLY, I have some time to post something new. I did write an entry for October that I never got around to posting---something about the humor of commuting. (It has become markedly less humorous during the past few weeks.) So here it is, nearly two months since the last Cheezwerks update. Ready for the news?

Since the last post, we have:


• sold a house, purchased a house, and moved into the new place
  
• bought a tractor---it mows, it mulches, and it plows!
  
• painted 3 rooms and the foyer (with significant amounts of help from family)
  
• voted, and defended our votes under heavy questioning (I will never, ever again discuss politics with a Democrat from Baltimore City...)
  
• cleaned up countless dead crickets that were unlucky enough in life to find their way into the house only to be discovered and dismembered by the cats
  
• acquired a bit of baby gear and reopened discussions about the wee one's name (note: that's discussions between Sean and me...thanks but no thanks to any baby naming advice/suggestions)
  
• met some neighbors, including a somewhat crabby middle-aged dude who was kind enough to remove a dead cat from the road (picked it right up by the tail, no less) even though it wasn't one of his 16 cats
  
• and most importantly, survived the "first showing" of the new place to a few folks who dropped by to see it.

September 24, 2002

We're moving next week, which is both too soon and not soon enough. We've been packing in fits and starts for nearly a month---a frustrating process (when did we acquire all this stuff?) with an ameliorative effect. Going through items and deciding what to keep and what to discard has been an unexpected metaphor for making peace with the past and preparing for the future. Not rewriting history or practicing selective memory, just deciding which artifacts are important enough to continue carrying through life in physical form.

Take, for example, a book received as a gift last year. Without going into details, the selection of this particular book---though a friendly gesture---was in itself very clear evidence that the giver did not know me well. The content is such that I would be mortified if it was ever discovered on my bookshelf by---god forbid---a relative or any person over the age of 35 or under 21. It's also not suitable for donation either to a charity (visions of heads exploding at the local Salvation Army drop-off center!) or to a friend, who would likely encounter the same difficulty with bookshelf-cruising relatives. Since this book will not be coming to the new house, I have two choices: I can either throw it away, or I can surreptitiously leave it at a Dupont Circle cafe. Submit your vote by Friday, October 4th!

Another chunk o' junk is relics of past relationships---romantic, friendship, professional, and family. This is a pretty small category compared to, say, my cache of grad school papers, which were carted out to the curb several weeks ago. Anyway, the decision tree for items representing most of the long-since-ended relationships was simple: "Do I want to spear this person's eyeballs with an olive fork? If yes, discard item. If no, place item in box. Repeat process in 30 years." Kidding about that...mostly. However, since I'm not the needlessly sentimental type, there have been a few spirited rounds of trashcan basketball. Very satisfying.

Deliberations over items from certain family members has been a bit heavier. For several years, I've been hanging onto the last Christmas card received from my grandmother. Her signature was shaky since her physical condition was rapidly deteriorating. She died just after Christmas the following year, and by that Christmas she was too weak to send cards. I'm still amazed that I had the foresight to save her card from the previous year. Not sure if I'll hang onto it forever, but I'll keep it a few more years at least.

In contrast to previous moves, this time all surviving artwork from my past life as an artist has been packed for relocation. No judgments, no critiques, just wholesale personal acceptance of these pieces as snapshots of the artist as a developing human. It has been a long time since I've added to this collection, but that's one of the first things I intend to do after we're settled into the new digs. And if you're one of the people that we're keeping through the move, I hope to have the opportunity to share some of it with you.

September 11, 2002

I'm not going to go into a long background story about the sucky things that my place of employment (which we'll refer to as "Good Ol' Company X") has done over the years. Frankly, the way the company chose to "commemorate the one year anniversary of the September 11th tragedy" speaks for itself.

A few weeks ago, an email was sent out to employees announcing plans for a company bake sale to be held on September 11th, with proceeds going to a September 11th-oriented charity to be selected by employee nomination and vote.

Sounds great, doesn't it? Let's take a closer look...

Not only were employees expected to donate and purchase baked goods, we were also expected to supply "any necessary utensils (forks, plates, knives, etc.)" needed to serve and eat the baked goods. That's right, Company X apparently did not subsidize this activity in any way! And here's the big kicker: the proceeds donation going to the chosen charity (which, I might add, is a religious cult) will end up benefitting Good Ol' Company X---as a tax deduction!

Hmmmm...I think I'll sit out on this one. I'd rather donate directly to charity and avoid the indirect benefit to not-so-slick Company X.

September 3, 2002

I almost posted a rant about this topic a couple of days ago. Turns out the delay was fortunate, 'cause I am sooo much more incensed about the issue this evening.

If there is one relatively recent invention whose intended purpose has been misinterpreted, the mobile phone is it. Unfortunately, most of us can cite several experiences with rude jerks using mobile phones at inappropriate times or places---at the movies, nice restaurants, even funerals (YES, I have actually experienced that firsthand). We are all way too familiar with the erratic driver who is too busy yapping into a phone to competently operate a vehicle. Apparently, the latest popular perversion of the mobile phone is to always keep other options open, which is particularly mannerless when the individual is already engaged in a social event.

What is wrong with people that they need to be available for phone calls on a constant basis?! Is the possibility of being alone for a few minutes/hours or missing out on some impromptu invitation so intolerable?

Scenario 1, this past weekend: Discovered that my 12 year old cousin has a cell phone. Might never have known this, except that she brought it to dinner with the extended family and kept making and receiving calls from other 12 year olds throughout the dinner. The conversations were obviously very important, as indicated by the giggling. Her parents are at fault in this situation for (1) providing her with the phone, (2) allowing her bring it with her to a family dinner, and (3) failing to limit her usage of the phone to more appropriate times, such as when her very pregnant and irritated older cousin wouldn't be tempted to lean across the dinner table and smack her upside the head with a crab mallet for being so damn annoying with her stupid phone.

Scenario 2, this evening: Boy oh boy, nothing says "I value our time together" quite like the experience of being out with someone who not only accepts a social phone call from someone else but also remains on the phone for several minutes while her in-person companion is forced to wait. Not sure why the call couldn't wait until after we had wrapped up our little exercise session, but perhaps some time-sensitive information was being exchanged. I wouldn't know, I was doing my best to ignore the contents of the conversation, which is a courtesy that will be dispensed with on future occasions. I may even contribute commentary next time.

Hey, if personal phone conversations are going to continue to be on public display, expect audience participation!

August 29, 2002

Last night after dinner we stopped by a party supply store to pick up a going away card for a coworker. Shopping for greeting cards is one of my least favorite activities. It's difficult to find a card that embodies the sentiment that I want to impart to the recipient. Too many of the cards are unduly sentimental, humorous cards aren't always appropriately funny, and even though there's truly a card for everything (for example, menopause sympathy cards...I kid you not) there aren't many cards in some of the categories. The whole experience always makes me squirrelly.

While sifting through the offerings, I came across a very pretty card constructed of handmade paper (the kind with embedded flower petals and such) with beautiful curly writing which read "I'll always love you" on the front and had a long poem inside. And the wheels started turning...

Lacking an appropriate amount of insanity in your life? If so, consider sending a card such as this to an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend! Be sure to select someone from the distant past, so that the lucky guy/girl is more likely to be mildly weirded-out than concerned that you're stalking him/her. Whether or not you sign your name is up to you...keep in mind that living dangerously is half the fun! If confronted, you can always deny all knowledge of the card and act concerned for the individual's mental health. Practice saying with a bemused expression, "A card? Uh, nooooo..."

In case you're wondering, last night did not seem like the right time for me to purchase a card to send to someone "formerly special". Some of my exes are already buggy enough and there is currently plenty of insanity in my life; no need to add more and possibly cross the line into depravity. Perhaps the whim will strike again in the future... :-)

August 23, 2002

As many of you are already aware, the "big changes" alluded to in the previous post are (in part) that we're moving. We have a contract on a house in Southern Maryland, with settlement scheduled for the end of September.

And by "Southern Maryland", I mean "way the hell down there". We're moving to a county that has ONE coffee shop (a Starbucks, located inside the grocery store), whose "fine dining" offerings include the McDonald's, and where the most frequently sighted vehicle is the old beater pickup truck (preferably with at least one patch of primer gray).

Coming from Central Maryland---where the German automobile reigns supreme and there at least 30 restaurants within almost any 5 mile radius---we may be in for a bit of a culture shock. On the other hand, we're trading our 18'x30' yard for 3.9 acres of wooded privacy. In all likelihood, we'll never again be woken up at 7 AM on a Sunday morning by the sound of a neighbor's church carpool announcing its arrival with several horn blasts. No more territory disputes over visitor parking spaces. And if we catch someone trespassing in our yard, they'll probably be more afraid of us shooting them than the opposite.

August 13, 2002

Wow, it has been a month since the last update! Life has been moving really fast since then, what with traveling to Montreal, celebrating various events, continuing to host a rapidly growing Spawn, dealing with lunatics, and getting life back on its intended track. Here's some info to fill in the gaps:

Montreal: Sean's organization held its summer conference in Montreal this year, and I joined him towards the end of the event. We vacationed in Montreal for a few days after the conference ended and had a good time poking through the city. We did take some photographs with our new digital camera (purchased in Montreal the first day of vacation after we discovered that our previous camera had been separated from us), and I will eventually post them here in photo essay format when the mood strikes. Despite really enjoying the city, I was in a "glass half empty" mood that week and managed to capture a bit of Montreal's seedy side in photographs.

Spawn: 19 weeks now, and next week is the big sonogram! The baby recently starting moving quite a bit, particularly around lunchtime, but it's not detectable from the outside yet. We just started working on our baby registry and will post the link very soon so that interested parties can begin perusing our baby-related wishlist. :)

Life: Big changes happening within the next 6-8 weeks. Not quite ready to talk about it except with a select few, but check back in October for more detailed information.

July 13, 2002

If you were paying attention a few months ago, you may recall that I posted something about joining a local gardening association and renting a plot in a community garden. Well, it's July now, and after sitting idle for a bit too long while I was in the throes of constant morning sickness, the garden is finally in full swing!

I went to the garden this afternoon to water it and took Toby with me. (He wasn't much help and did a lot of complaining, although I must say he was good company all the same.) When I first came up with the idea of renting a garden plot, I had visions of filling it with neat rows of every vegetable imaginable and a big patch of flowers for fresh bouquets. Ah, gotta love those grand ideas! The reality is that we're not really making the most of our 20'x25' patch, but we did manage to plant nasturtiums, ageratum, cosmos, cucumbers, zucchini, squash, tomatoes and peppers. Apparently, the tomatoes are delicious, because the deer keep coming and bringing friends with them. ("Hi, Frank, thinking of taking the wife and kids up to the community garden for dinner tonight? Try plot K14. Oh, you're familiar with that place? Yes, the tomatoes are fantastico!") Basically, we need to abandon hope of ever harvesting a ripe tomato from our garden.

On the positive side (I guess), the deer haven't bothered our zucchini at all. We bought two plants, both of which have already produced one Montana-sized zucchini each. Seriously, these zucchinis are huge. One of them would feed a family of four for several days. I do not foresee a zucchini shortage in my household in the near future. In fact, our neighbors may soon be discovering anonymous gifts of zucchini on their doorsteps. (Shh, don't warn them!) Please, email me if you need any zucchini or squash. You pay shipping costs. :-)