Friend or Felon

I've been doing my best to get things transitioned over to this new apartment -- changed my address with my employer, my car insurance, my driver's license (for which the state of Ohio issues a postcard that I'm supposed to "keep with my license..." Seriously???), and of course, the post office.

In the two weeks that I've been here, I've received my own forwarded mail, as well as mail for no less than five other people (although there are two Karens, so I'm wondering if The Karen Who Used To Live Here got either married or divorced during her tenure here).

So, do I cross through the addresses on all of those envelopes and stick them back in a mailbox with "Not At This Address" written across them? Or do I just say tough shit to these people, who apparently did NOT file a change of address form with the post office? The latter is easier, of course, but isn't preventing delivery of mail to its correct addressee a federal offense or something?

If I Ignore It, Will It Go Away?

Ugh... they are predicting snow showers for overnight and tomorrow morning. I know it's getting colder and it's got to happen sooner or later... and they're not talking about any accumulation whatsoever, so it probably won't be a big deal... But I'm just so not ready for snow before Thanksgiving!

What I Learned Today From Eddie Izzard

It's been a gray and rainy Saturday, the sort of day where you want to just curl up on the couch and watch DVD's and eat soup. Well, OK, I didn't have much in the house in the soup department, but DVD's I have aplenty, so I picked out a fave Eddie Izzard disc and settled in for an hour or two of hearty giggling.

He was doing one of my favorite bits about the Heimlich Maneuver (hoocha-hoocha-hoocha... and lobster), with Gunter waking Hilda in the middle of the night, and I decided to find out what Heimlich's real first name was via the internet. Perhaps it wasn't such a crazy idea -- after all, anybody who has seen Eddie's "Stripped" show knows that he loves him da Wikipedia!

But given Eddie's encyclopedic brain and penchant for small and random details, you can imagine my surprise to find out that Dr. Heimlich is not named Gunter, his name is Henry -- and he was born in Delaware! Went to Cornell! His wife is not Hilda but Jane, and Jane Heimlich (nee Murray) was the daughter of dancing instructor and entrepreneur Arthur Murray! Last but not least (and we're almost adding insult to injury at this point), Wikipedia reports that of all things, Dr. Heimlich is a cousin to Anson Williams, who was best known for playing Potsie Webber on "Happy Days!" Good Lord, you don't get much more white-bread American that THAT!!!

The Wiki article goes on to describe some relatively disturbing things about Dr. Heimlich, such as questions about sharing credit with other physicians who helped his research on the maneuver (he didn't), and taking part in mass trials of infecting people in Africa with malaria as a way to "cure" them of HIV and AIDS (he did). Apparently his own son has a website that documents and discusses what the younger Heimlich describes as "50 years of medical fraud." Yeah, remind me not to spend Thanksgiving around THAT table!

Eddie's bit was recorded back in 1998, so I'll cut him some slack for it being the pre-Wiki era. Besides, his version is clearly way funnier than real life. And that's just what you want on a gray, rainy Saturday.

Falling Behind

Whoops... I have not kept up with Nablopomo so well this week!

I'm not exactly sure what happened. I had a really crappy nagging headache the first few days of the week -- you know the one, not bad enough to make you nauseous and call off of work, but still enough to make you feel like you're slogging through unhardened concrete all day. On Wednesday, it took me well over two hours to write a newsletter article that I really should have been able to slam out in under 30 minutes, and even then it wasn't my best work. And Thursday... Thursdays are hard. My work schedule on Thursdays is to be there by 9AM, and to leave hopefully by 8PM... although in reality, I'm often there till about 8:30 or 8:45. I'm getting used to it, and the tradeoff is that I only work a half day on Fridays, but... as you can imagine, I'm pretty brain dead by the time I get home, and blogging just doesn't get too high on my priority list.

So, those are my excuses. But I'm back now, the headache has gone away, and I have located all of the necessary Thanksgiving recipes, including Mom's pumpkin pie, so I'm good to go.

Onward, and upward.

Where Did I Put That?

November being Nablopomo (thanks for the name, Melissa!) is a wee bit serendipitous for me this year, as I moved into this new apartment on November 1st and therefore can get away with posting about my first month living here. Things are really beginning to come together, and I am loving the new digs. Yesterday I put the first nails in a wall, in order to hang an antique mirror in my front hallway, and I also got some of my books shelved. (Shelving books is not a one-day thing for me. Several of my friends who helped with the move bitched about my copious amounts of reading materials. I know PA can relate.)

The unserendipitous part is that Thanksgiving is two weeks away (!!!!??!?!!?). I will be spending it this year with my Danish brother and sister-in-law, who have only celebrated this American holiday when my father and stepmother would cross the pond to be with them. As such, they don't have a whole lot of traditions -- or recipes -- of their own. My dad and other brother will be there as well, and I'm thrilled at the opportunity to get to cook and play around in the kitchen, but cookbooks do fall into the "books" category.

Did I mention the copious amounts of reading material...

Is This How the Zombies Get In?

This really bizarre thing has been happening to my computer lately. The little clock, down in the lower right corner, the one that every computer everywhere has? Well, it seems to... get a little ahead of itself. For example, right now, it's 11:54pm, according to my watch, my cell phone, my DVR, and the automated time stamp on this blog post. The little clock on the computer says that it's 12:10am, approximately 16 minutes fast. An hour or so after I turned the computer on, it was about 4 minutes fast. An hour ago, it was about 7 minutes fast. And tomorrow morning, when I turn the computer back on again? It will be correct once again. It's sort of like my own personal little time warp, or like the drummer to my life is rushing the beat just ever so slightly.

That is truly jacked up, yo.

Fair Warning

It's starting again.

That tiny little tickle that you barely even notice for God knows how long... until it becomes more of an itch, and by that time you know it's too late, it's going to become something gnawing and raw, there's just no stopping it.

Maybe it happened sometime this week, with all the election revelry. Maybe, but I don't think so. I think it's been going on longer than that.

The travel bug is biting me again. That's right, my wide-load rear end wants to sit on a plane for 8 hours at a clip and go somewhere new and exciting again. Funny, cuz it's been exactly one year since PA and I departed for Italy. My tolerance for lack of travel appears to be getting shorter.

Not that I'm in any position to do anything about this, you understand. I think realistically, it's going to be at least another six months before I can even begin to make any plans. Although, it is possible that I'll have enough time off saved up to perhaps go on an Operation Smile mission. Very different feel than the other trips I've taken, of course, but it would certainly tide me over.

And I know that, at least right now, I'd probably be looking at a trip on my own as well. I've done that before, and it's not necessarily a bad thing, but... I also know that my Sisters of the Dole would probably want to come with me, and I would feel bad for making them feel bad if they couldn't.

But I'm telling you now. The bug, she has bit.