Spring Cleaning

I wish I could get into spring cleaning, but it isn't there for me. This is one time that I really feel 180 out from everyone else. I'm fighting allergies of some kind, but I'm not going to go through a battery of tests to find out the culprit. It will pass. Might be the Bradford Pear trees, because they have been beautiful this week, or it could be all the daffodils. I love spring flowers, and I would love to get out there and dig in the dirt and plant some stuff. Ain't gonna happen. My eyes are watering and my nose keeps stopping up even when I'm indoors. Benedryl is my friend...up to a point. When other people are feeling lively and coming out of the winter doldrums, I am staying in the house. And why should I stir up the dust to add to my misery? Spring cleaning can wait until fall. *sniff*


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Yogurt covered raisins are pretty good.

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Toby is one of my cats. He is a real treasure, most of the time, and right now he's sitting in my lap, paws around my neck, being a love. Before I got my new clothes dryer, I had a large drying rack that stood in the kitchen. Toby decided to use it for his personal training device, climbing it on a regular basis. I christened it Mount Washmore. I have no idea how Toby could climb this thing, as it's made of round dowel rods spaced about a foot apart, and it stands about four feet tall. Also, Toby has no claws, but that never stops him. That bad boy can run straight up the door facings too, sliding back down like he's on a fire pole. He's a little pissed off at me now because Mount Washmore has disappeared into the storage shed, so he has retaliated by climbing through the mini-blinds whenever I'm involved in something where I can't get to him. Keeps me entertained.

Ringo is the other cat, and he and the Tobester are best buds. At least twice a day, they make this apartment into the Indy 500. A couple of furry streaks flying over my shoulder as they CATapult over the loveseat and over my head into the hall and disappear under the bed. At rest, Ringo doesn't look like he could move that fast at all. A Morris look-alike, this big ginger tom has a passion for yogurt. Although, he doesn't like my yogurt raisins. It's a good thing to have a couple of fine cats around the house.

Comix today

It took me years to admit this publicly. I read comic books. There...now the whole world knows. I'm out of the closet, no longer do I have to smuggle them home in Kroger bags inside the latest copy of Woman's Day. Although, now, there is no one to hide them from. The cats don't care if I have this insane passion for Daredevil, as one of their favourite things is to scratch their clawless paws on the handle openings of my comic storage boxes. It makes the most absurd sound, and I know exactly what they are up to when I hear it.

Today was the seventy-first issue of the second volume of Daredevil. It's the beginning of a new story arc called Decalogue, and the premise is a good one, based on the Ten Commandments. Brian Michael Bendis is a genius. He has been writing DD on a regular basis since issue twenty-six, and held me spellbound. Accompanying his master storytelling is Alex Maleev, an artist with such a distinct style in this title that when they both depart the book at the end of the year, I am not alone in thinking that I will be grieving. No one else draws Matt Murdock like Maleev. I'm in love with a line drawing. Sigh.

It's not easy being a fangirl. We are so outnumbered in the comic readership world. Thankfully, my local comic shop is nice to me. I don't spend exorbitant sums in there; I don't read forty titles a month. Comic shop Dave meets me at the door with the latest issue of Daredevil in hand. He knows what else I like to read, and if there is even the most obscure reference to DD in another title, he knows I want to know about it. This is really nice, because I have gone into other LCS and endured the silent treatment. The looks that say "she must have wandered into the wrong store" or "her grandchildren (EEK!) must have sent her to buy the latest Spider-Man". That was a little while ago now, before I decided what the hell? Go ahead and wear that DD tshirt into the store and while I'm at it, why should my hair be grey? Now they think I might just be shopping for my kids. I don't have any of those, either. These comics are for ME, fanboy!

I now enjoy status as a full-fledged comic-reading fangirl geek. It's wonderful. Thanks to the internet, I have other people to talk with about my obsession over my favourite superheroes. I have successfully defended my title of World's Biggest Daredevil Fan at a comic book convention. I have met some of my artist idols, and even have gotten my name (and a very small picture) in the pages of a real comic book. It's geek love. Heh.

A good friend, after seeing my Daredevil shrine atop my computer desk and my comic boxes full of the forty year saga of Daredevil, christened me with my blog name, Darediva. I thank her for that. I wear it proudly.

Oh, and I picked up New Avengers today, too.

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PS to yesterday: the cable guy said my problem was that cheap Walmart coax cable from my tv to the wall. I did get to successfully tape Blind Justice last night. Great episode. I do hope this show makes a second season.

Beware the Ides of March

As I was paying bills today, the date hit me. Every year, I think on this day back to my sophomore year in high school, when Mrs. Winder so cleverly timed our reading of Julius Caesar so that Brutus did his deed on the very day. She ranks way up on the list of people who shaped my young life, as she was not only my English teacher, but also the yearbook advisor. I worked three years with her on the high school yearbook, and the literary magazine we published. What a fun time! And we did it all by hand, because I am back there in the B.C. era. We shot real film, cropped real photos (with cropping tape!), lettered the title pages and did the art with india ink. We had to have our pages approved by the school board, and I got my first taste of rebellious act when I dared submit cover art for the 1970 yearbook that was NOT in the school colors of purple and white. The school board viewed the mock-up, and one member reportedly said, "Of course, this WILL be purple and white, not yellow and orange on black?" Mrs. Winder stood her ground, replying that it was to be done as shown. There was no rubberstamp approval that night. Instead, the issue was taken before the student body for a vote. After a bit of rousing debate on campus, my design was narrowly approved. For once, the art won over the athletic department. To appease the jocks, we put their group picture in with a purple tint.

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I'm still battling someone's idea of a joke...this about:blank that is plaguing my computer. What makes people so desperate for attention that they need to destroy things? Et tu, Brute?

I'm late, I'm late...

It always seems that it's true that the hurrier you go, the behinder you get. Case in point, going to the post office. I hate to go to the post office. This is not a good thing if you are in the mail order business. One of the best things to come along was the online label service the USPS has now. Or it is when it works. Yesterday, when I had three orders to ship, my printer wouldn't correctly put the indicia needed on the labels, so I had to do it the old fashioned way. By standing in line.

The post office isn't that far from my house, but at 3 PM on a Friday, the traffic around it is heavy. What are they thinking when they only have one person at the window on Friday afternoon, when everyone is in there buying money orders on payday? I'm the third person in line, and the guy in front of me asks about a package that was not delivered to his office. The lone clerk goes over to another part of the office, and I hear her TURN ON A COMPUTER! Jiminy Christmas! Don't they keep their tracking computer online?? Five minutes goes by, and she has still not found this guy's package. Fact was, she never could log on to the site.

By now there are six people in line behind me. Two are having loud conversations on their cellphones. (Another rant, another day.) I have one package that needs to go overseas, and even though I already have the customs form filled out, I have to fill out something else that I didn't have ready, and I have to put the contents in a different envelope because the one I had was not an Express Mail Flat Rate. Nothing is every simple at the post office. Heaven forbid if you get it all done before you get there. And I'm way more prepared than most folks who step up to that counter. Twenty minutes after I walk in, with only two people ahead of me, I get done. I walk out to see another four people have walked in behind those other six and the line is out the door. I mutter under my breath that my timing could have been worse.

I console myself with the fact that the Priority Mail envelopes and boxes are "free", and head home to pack more stuff up to mail the next day. Just hope I can make the printer work.

Or...through the fooking glass

Goodness knows why someone might want to read any of my adventures, but once in a while, funny stuff does happen.

Take today for example. After returning late yesterday from a sixteen hundred mile road trip, I rolled out of bed at what for me is the crack of dawn (0730) because I had a doctor's appointment at 0900. The parking garage was full, until I got to the roof. Winding up five floors to the roof revealed to me that the power steering is going out on my car. Wonderful.

I needed to go back to the first floor for the appointment, so I waited...and waited...and waited for the elevator. Yes, I could have taken the stairs faster, but by the time I got there, I couldn't have made it to the end of the long corridor. This getting older is getting old in situations like that. Damn that radial neuropathy!

It was a good thing that I had left the house fairly early. I arrived at the check-in only ten minutes before the appointment, so I signed in and took a seat. Almost immediately, the nurse called my name. This had to be too good to be true. It was. My appointment is next week. Unfortunately, that is not what my appointment card said, but I had left it at home. Rats.

Muscling the car back down the ramp was not fun, and I realised I forgot to have the desk stamp my parking ticket, so I had to fish out fifty cents to pay for my fifteen minutes in the garage.

Off to pick up all the mail that has collected in my rented box at the UPS store. Mostly a pile of garbage that has begun to find me after changing my address six months ago. Three applications for credit cards. A bill from the opthamologist that I have to settle before I have to have all the tests run again. Why I love having no health insurance... Oh! One of the little red slips of paper in the box that says I have a package waiting for me!

Wooooohoooo! Another of the mystery boxes that come to me. I just let the UPS store guy wonder why I'm getting stuff marked "Free Matter for the Blind". Once it was a huge box that had my new (to me) electric Perkins brailler. Then it was the big brick of brailler paper. Today, it's the contractions dictionary I ordered. I'm taking the correspondence course from the Library of Congress to try to get my certification to transcribe braille. (Another story, another day.)

I grabbed a breakfast burrito at Sonic, and came home to answer my phone messages from last week. Someone left me a wrong number; two were orders for my quilt patterns. Too early to call the west coast, so I tried to get some of the gear I dragged in last night stowed away. The three hours of sleep I had last night began to catch up with me, so I decided to take a nap.

The cats curled up next to me, and I was down for the count. Two hours later, I heard the computer announce someone messaging me, so I got up in time to find the ISP connection disconnecting. No matter what I did, I could not get back online. I suppose this six year old Dell is going to gasp its last before long. Please! Not before I get it all backed up!

I switch to the laptop, and when the Yahoo comes up, there is an ad that promises me a free scoop of Baskin-Robbins ice cream in honor of the tenth anniversary of Yahoo. (Can it be so?) What the heck, I decide, this is my junk email address, so I follow the link to print out the coupon. My printer jams. I take the guts apart and pull out the shreds of paper, and try again. Yippee! I am now going to get free ice cream tonight. It's in the same store as the Steak Escape place, and I rationalise that since I am making a second trip to the UPS store, and it's on the way back...

Never had tried the cheesesteak sandwich there, so I order one and take a seat as directed to wait. I see the entire staff standing around. Five minutes go by. No sandwich. Someone else comes through the drive in and they get their order. Someone else comes in to place an order. No sandwich. Finally, I go back to the counter and ask just how long it takes to get served. Fully expecting to get the usual lackluster response from another fast food worker, I was surprised to see them all snap to and before I knew it, I had my sandwich, a coupon for a free sandwich on my next visit, and the manager trotting out with my refund in her hand and a profuse apology! I not only got free ice cream for supper, but also free supper.

This put me in a much better mood, keeping me from tossing the computer and the printer across the room tonight when I could not get the online package labels to print. Maybe tomorrow will be a better technology day. Can't hope for another free meal, however...