I’m not a homemaker. I don’t do DIY projects. I don’t really cook, nor am I really handy. If you ask me to paint a wall, the paint will end up in my hair, on my nose, shoes, bag, ceiling, and floor, and sometimes on the wall. I have spaghetti arms so I can’t even carry the groceries inside by myself.
I don’t have any photos of what the shirt looked like before I messed with it because it didn’t occur to me to blog about this until the process was already underway. Anyway, here are my tools.
One thing do I enjoy is handling the weekly household laundry responsibilities. I suspect I’m an anomaly because not only do I like folding laundry (that shirt has to be folded the right way or I will re-do it), I also like putting laundry away. There’s something comforting about knowing Mike and I have a nice stockpile of clean clothes in our drawers and closets. (This also means I feel like crap when I hear, “Can you do laundry soon? I’m almost out of clean socks,” which happens from time to time when work gets busy.)
Anyway, when Mike got olive oil one of his favorite t-shirts, it was up to me to come to the rescue. We bought the shirt when we were on vacation in Maine last summer — it has a cartoon lobster on the back drinking a beer while reclining in a bowl of chowder and it says LOBSTA, CHOWDA, BEEYA. It’s cute.
I looked at a few websites for ideas on how to remove oil from clothing and ended up putting dish soap on it and rubbing it in. It did nothing. Well, that’s not true. What I did was I somehow turned one small olive oil stain into four stains. That takes talent!
Then about a week later I made another attempt. A few sites recommended rubbing in dish soap and baking soda with a toothbrush. So, I tried that, and I really went for it. I scrubbed in circular motions and pressed really hard.
Scrubbin’ til the cows come home
I let it sit for about an hour, then came back a little while later and scrubbed in circular motions and pressed harder still. I let it sit again. More scrubbing. Then I put it in the wash and hoped for the best.
Well, the oil came out. That was the goal, right? But the problem was…the color was also removed where the oil had been. I guess I scrubbed too hard.
Showing Mike the final result. He’s grinning! He loves me despite my incompetence.Hey, the oil is gone, okay?
Mike was so nice about it but I felt terrible and couldn’t sleep that night. My mom was excellent at homemaking; she made it her full-time job. She’d be pretty ashamed of me if she saw me now.
I thought we could try using Rit fabric dye to get the entire shirt to one color. I guess at this point there’s nothing to lose. I’ve used Rit before to dye garments, but at this point I’ve lost confidence in my laundry skills.
How would you save this beloved LOBSTA CHOWDA BEEYA shirt? Please leave your suggestions in the comments!
I’d like to share what I hope are a few redeeming photos of my sweet laundry folding skills… I should probably just stick to the basics from here on out.
It’s Wednesday — is that too late for a weekend recap post? Is it like getting “Happy New Yeared” in February?
Well, if it is, here it is anyway!
Mike and I started the weekend at a backyard bonfire at our dear friends’ house in Cherry Hill, NJ. We got to drink beer with a pretty wonderful Greyhound named Newsy, one of our favorite doggie friends.
Newsy is a former racing Greyhound, Now she’s living the dream!
Early Saturday evening, Mike and I had a magical, spontaneous moment. We were on our way to Old City, walking from our neighborhood in South Philly, and the distance between the two is about two miles. We spotted one of those new bright blue Indego bicycle share stations at 10th and Washington and decided to go for it!
Hmm, how does this work?
I’ve always been terrified of riding bikes in the city because it’s so damn dangerous.
But I forgot my fear because it seemed like so much fun, and I’m all for trying alternative ways to get around the city. Indego is $4 for a 30-minute rental. The way it works is you ride the bike to the docking station closest to your destination, and there are docking stations all over the city. So, we paid with our credit cards, put our bottles of wine in the baskets, and we were off!
Once we started riding I did some mental math and realized I hadn’t been on a bike since roughly 2009. I was wobbly at first but pretty soon I was flying through the streets. The wind in my hair felt so good and I loved that we were getting to our destination so quickly.
Mike realized one of his tires was flat, though, so we stopped at a station around 3rd and Bainbridge and he got a new bike. The signage at the docking station didn’t say anything about what to do if you get a tire with a flat, nor could you report a defective bike (from what we could see, anyway.) Other than that, I’d definitely recommend Indego to get from Point A to Point B if you have $4 to spare. (Or $8, if you get a bike with a flat.)
A shaky pic taken on Bainbridge Street while riding an IndeGo bike!Returning the IndeGo bikes to the docking station at 2nd and Chestnut.
Even though the cars scared me — I was especially afraid of someone opening the door of a parked car and sending me flying — I’d do it again. I got to glimpse the world through the eyes of a bike rider, so in the future I’ll be less likely to yell and curse when they act crazy and cut in front of me while I’m driving. They’re probably more afraid of me than I am of them. Kind of like bugs.
The reason why we headed down to Old City was to meet L, who blogs over at Lolageek. I’ve known L for at least 10 years but we had never met in person. It was like excitement on top of excitement wrapped in a huge OMG sandwich.
But first, since we got down there an hour early, we hit one of our favorite spots, the Khyber Pass Pub at 2nd and Chestnut for a beer. We snagged the table by the window and did a little people-watching. Mike wore his cat astronaut shirt, which is just about the best shirt ever.
Mike had a pawsome Caturday in Pawgust!
Then we made the quick walk to Wedge and Fig, or as Mike called it, Wedgies and Figs, which is a BYOB bistro at 3rd and Race.
It’s nuts to think that L has been apprised, through my former super confessional and personal blog on Diaryland, of every little detail of my life since the early to mid-2000s. And I’ve read hers all along, too, so it was like meeting an old yet new friend. We decided to do the double date thing with our men, which was a good choice because we all got along so well.
As far as cheese boards go, the one at Wedge and Fig was pretty huge and lovely.Lolageek with the plain old garden variety geek about to put her in a choke hold, it seems.
Wedgies and Figs had so much yummy cheese. I’ve been about 75 percent vegan for the past year so this was a rare, welcome indulgence. We shared a huge cheese board, then Mike and I shared a small vat of mac and cheese, then a grilled cheese with truffled honey. Awesomeness.
The next day, Sunday, we went to Wilmington, Delaware to visit Mike’s mom and stepdad. We go out there pretty often and it’s always a great time just hanging out, drinking and eating.
Mike’s mom commemorated the day, not to far in the future, when we’ll be exchanging rings with heart-shaped snacks and other cute stuff. So sweet!
Since we have this big day coming up, I’ve been on a mission to learn how to apply false eyelashes. I bought an e.l.f. set and I’ve been practicing, with varying results. See below. If anyone has any tips, please let me know! I’ve watched a few YouTube videos and I understand how it’s done but I still can’t get them close enough to my lashline. (The one on the right happened after I took out my contacts and really saw what I was doing — I can’t see anything close-up otherwise. Therein lies the problem, I think.)
A better result. The black liner hides the wide gulf between my own lashes and the falsies.#NailedIt! (just kidding… #Fail)
The wonderful blogger Jillian from How To Be Myself nominated me for a Beautiful Blogger Award! Jillian is my favorite blogger, so that means a lot. Her posts often inspire me to write comments gushing about how I can relate to what she’s written, because I often can. She’s awesome, yo.
Before I list seven random things about myself, as the award asks, and list seven bloggers I like, I have to point out that I’m writing this after midnight, and I’m rarely at work at this time. By “at work,” I mean in my basement at my work desk. I’ve been having sleep problems lately. I take enough allergy and asthma pills and enough melatonin to choke a horse, but I still don’t really get tired.
And I’ve suddenly become a worrier. We have this thing scheduled for Sept. 12 in which Mike and I will say mushy stuff to each other than host an amazing party (I hope) at a cool place. Then not too long after that, we’re going to Scotland, and we’re still planning that. It’s taking a little more time than I thought. Within those big things, there are a bunch of smaller things to worry about.
And then there’s work. It’s super busy all the time and it might get busier and I’m somewhat terrified (but working for a thriving company is way beyond good, especially after working for media companies). My volunteer job is on my mind, too — adoption applications I need to work on, emails I need to send, how we can get more cats adopted, an upsetting run-in I had with a potential adopter.
And I still haven’t solved the plumbing problem over at my rental property. There are people-specific worries, like about Mike and about Sassy, how her dementia symptoms have improved for the most part, but she’s still difficult. It’s not her fault. One of the reasons why I’m down here is because she’s asleep on the bed next to Mike and I couldn’t wake her up, and when I try to pick her up she gets upset and “nibbles” on my hand. She’s a biter, so that scares me. I can’t sleep on the six inches of bed she’s allotted me.
Plus I attended a funeral Friday for an 83-year-old woman who seemed simply wonderful, and that brought up a lot of feelings. I hate to see the surviving family members go through that. It sucks. And it made me think of my dad’s funeral 10 months ago and my mom’s 9 years ago. But those things are often on my mind, kind of processing in the background. Lately they’re more in the foreground.
Anyway, there are probably more than seven facts about me in what I’ve just written, but that doesn’t count. It feels good to type out my worries, though.
Before this post goes too far off the rails, here are my seven random things:
I don’t really cook but I watch a lot of cooking shows and so I’ve given some thought to my favorite “flavor profile.” It’s the thing I crave all the time, tomato and cheese. Specifically, sundried tomatoes (with fresh basil from our basil plant) and vegan Diaya cheese, either mozzarella or cheddar. And some bread. So, basically, some sort of pizza or sandwich. I don’t eat much dairy anymore and I don’t even miss it because Diaya cheese is better than “real” cheese, to me. (I know what you’re thinking. I KNOW. I know. The “real” stuff is amazing, too.)
If given the choice between two superpowers, flight or invisibility, I’d choose invisibility. I’d be ethical about it, though. I wouldn’t use my power for personal gain; I’d use it to expose corruption and help solve crimes and be a champion for the weakest and most vulnerable among us. Kind of like being a reporter, but a secret and super powerful one.
My last professional haircut was in March 2011. I hated what the hairstylist did, so swore off salons. Now, my hair is pretty long and I wear it in a topknot six days out of the week, so I lose track of how long it really is. Every few months I give it a trim and I’ve had no problems. I learned how to layer my own hair watching YouTube videos and I actually really enjoy the whole process. I’ve been cutting my own hair since I was a child, continuing all through high school, college and post-college life. But, like I said, it’s really long, so any mistakes I might make are not noticeable. You should totally try it! Think of all the money you’d save!
I’m not shy but it’s hard for me to approach people who I consider to be cool/important. I saw a mayoral candidate at a beer garden a few months ago and I wanted to go up to him and tell him he has my support, but I got scared. Last week I saw this locally famous artist at a coffee shop, and today I saw him at a different coffee shop. Mike and I are getting married next month at his signature art installation, Philadelphia Magic Gardens, and I quite admire him, but I didn’t say anything to him either time. I’m writing all of this for accountability purposes because the next time I run into Isaiah Zagar, I will say hi to him and tell him about our wedding plans. I’ve heard he stops in when weddings are taking place, so it would be cool we could hang out with him that day.
A few weeks ago I bought an expandable back scratcher at CVS for $3.99 and it’s the best $3.99 I’ve spent in a long time. My back is usually always itchy and I think it might be some weird mental thing, but whatever. I’m always asking Mike to scratch my back, but now I can be more self-sufficient about it. I started throwing it in my bag before I leave the house in case I get itchy when I’m out and about.
Recently I thought about giving myself a middle name since my parents didn’t bother to do that. I thought Samantha would be a nice middle name, and entertained the thought of demanding that people call me “Sam.” But I looked into the requirements and decided not to bother. Aren’t middle names kind of silly and pointless anyway? Even if you have a cool middle name, I’m sure you don’t get many chances to even mention it to anyone. It makes me think of people who spend a ton of money on extremely fancy, expensive underwear. Why go through all that effort when it’s hidden?
Watching “The Real Housewives” has led me to wear less makeup. I’ve been wearing makeup since age 11 and I’ve been partial to the smoky eye and red lipstick even on a Sunday afternoon. But I’ve been noticing that women who wear a lot of makeup, like the Real Housewives, tend to look older than they really are. So I’ve been wearing less and less. I wrote a few months ago about how I’m not really wearing makeup to the gym anymore and now I’m experimenting with toning it down even during non-gym time. And a funny thing has happened. I’m beginning to see that I really don’t need as much as I always thought I did. The exception is eyebrow powder, though. I really can’t ever go without that. (Right, Jillian? ;))
So now’s the time for me to nominate seven people for the Beautiful Blogger award. The way it works is that these seven are supposed to list seven things about themselves then nominate seven people of their own. But whether they do that or not, I encourage everyone to read all of these blogs, like, today.
Okay! Let’s get started!
Gin is My Comfort Food. This is one of those blogs where the writer really takes you through all her ups and downs in life. And she loves gin!
Krissy’s Thinking Again. Krissy’s thinking provokes my thinking, and that’s always a good thing.
35 and Molting. Becky’s writing is touching, honest and funny. In her blog she shares her now-unfolding story of her new life in Florida and the experience of being a mom to a child who is now 18.
Love-Nourish-Preach. Rachel is a vegan and animal lover, and her passion comes through beautifully in her writing. She posts recipes and shares her feelings on the same causes I care about, and she’s such a positive person.
Drink the Day. Jacqui kind of reminds me of Martha Stewart, but cooler and with better hair. She shares lots of recipes (I’m dying to make those sundried tomato puffs!) and OOTDs and tutorials and crafts and other DIY stuff, plus she opens a window onto her life as well. I’m a fan.
Jardin D Fleur. Such a great writer, such interesting, funny, poignant stories of someone who’s living life to its fullest.
Big Girl Panties: Volume 1. I know this lovely lady in “real life” and she’s beautiful through and through. She punctuates her life with animals and sign language and lots of exclamation points.
I was a newspaper reporter for many years, so it comes naturally to me to ask a bunch of questions and to have some healthy skepticism. I found my blind spot this week, though, and it almost cost me $4,700.
Five years ago I bought a house in South Philadelphia, and for the past two years I’ve been renting to some awesome tenants. When you own a house as old as mine — it was built about 100 years ago — there’s always a nagging fear of some huge, expensive repair coming your way. I’d been extremely lucky over those years.
So when a Roto Rooter plumber named John told me my sewer line was cracked and needed to be replaced — after all, there was raw sewage in the basement — I wasn’t that surprised. It seemed about time for shit to start hitting the fan. Or, more accurately, for shit to start leaking…
We scheduled the repair for Tuesday morning and I paid a 30% deposit. John The Plumber said it would be an eight or nine-hour job involving the sidewalk being jackhammered because the pipe is 15 feet and runs from the sidewalk grate into the basement.
Things got weird, though, and I wish I’d had some way of recording this guy without him knowing.
Basically, John told me he had been sizing me up and I seemed “cool.” So, he went on a little rant about how Roto Rooter “screws with him sometimes” and in return he “likes to screw with them sometimes, too.” He said he has three kids — a three-year-old and two older kids in boarding school — and he has to put food on the table and fill his gas tank. So he makes money on the side by doing off-the-record and under-the-table plumbing jobs for people, and he only approaches people who seem “cool.”
Then he gave me his personal cell number and told me to call him there if I had any plumbing problems in the future.
I did play it “cool,” and thanked him and whatnot. I don’t want to come across as sanctimonious, but I can’t stomach unethical behavior like this, plus it makes it clear that this guy, who I’m trusting to assess and repair my sewer line, is dishonest and shifty. I made a mental note to call the company and report him after the job was finished Tuesday.
When I told Mike all of this, he didn’t want to wait until the work was done — he called and reported the guy to Roto Rooter immediately. If he’s being dishonest when it comes to his employer, then what’s stopping him from being dishonest to customers?
Mike spoke to a manager who said the company fires people who try to hustle side plumbing jobs and they were going to talk to him about it. Then, and this is the pivotal thing that happened, he said he’d send another plumber out on Monday to check John’s work and make sure his diagnosis of a cracked pipe was accurate.
The second Roto Rooter plumber named Abdul came out Monday morning. He said he didn’t want to know what John had found — he wanted to start with a clean slate and look at the pipe for himself. He put a camera down the pipe and so we could see what it looked like on a portable monitor he set on the sidewalk. And guess what? He couldn’t find any cracks or any problems with the pipe at all. Nothing was wrong with the pipe!
Roto Rooter’s fans and dehumudifiers after the raw sewage was removed and anti-microbials were applied.
The reason why raw sewage was leaking into the basement was because there was a clog in the pipe, which the first guy, John, apparently did remove. As to why he said it was cracked, well, I did some digging and one site, Glassdoor, had some answers. It’s a site where current and past employees can give anonymous reviews on employers. While I know these things should be taken with a grain of salt, I did learn that Roto Rooter changed its business model a few years back so that plumbers mainly live off commission.
So selling is a big part of the job, or as some Glassdoor reviews said, upselling. Management puts pressure on plumbers to get as much money out of customers as possible, which makes John’s $4,700 assessment easy to understand. Plumbers also must buy, insure and equip their own Roto Rooter vans, and there are also fees upon fees for other stuff, so even if you bring in $40k, a huge chunk, as much as nearly half, is taken out.
So, I get it. The business model is profitable for the company, I’m sure, since it’s the largest plumbing chain in the U.S. But that profitability comes at the expense of employee and customer satisfaction. And it leads plumbers like John down a path of corruption.
Anyway, Roto Rooter cancelled the $4,700 job and said returned my deposit. (I wasn’t charged for the second guy’s service.) The only thing left was for the raw sewage to be removed, and that part is covered by my homeowner’s insurance. Two cleanup guys came out yesterday and left a bunch of fans and dehumidifiers down there. They’ll pick up their equipment Thursday, the basement will be back to normal. I’m sure all the spiders and waterbugs will be happy to finally get some peace and quiet.
Yesterday I received a survey email asking about my Roto Rooter experience. I said this has already been reported but I wanted this to go as far up the chain of command as possible and gave a quick recap. Within a few minutes, a customer service satisfaction manager replied and thanked me for reporting this. It also said a formal complaint has been filed on my behalf, and that the general manager in Philadelphia, Dean Younkin, or a member of his staff would be contacting me within the next 30 minutes. The email came in at 10:45 a.m. Nobody contacted me.
You could say the bad guy, John, was cancelled out by the good guy who came on Monday. But as Mike said, when someone pushes you in front of a car and then saves you, it doesn’t make that person any less awful.
I’m still so rattled by this! I think what it comes down to is sexism — he thought he could pull one over on me. I just feel intimidated when it comes to service professionals sometimes, car mechanics included. You just never really know, right? You just have to go with your gut feeling.
My gut feeling said the plumber was shady as hell but I’m glad Mike pursued it as quickly as he did. Reason #4,792,832 why I’m grateful to have him in my corner.
Now that this has happened to me once (that I know of), I’m going to be much more alert, less trusting, and much more inclined to ask a million ane one questions, not just a million. So, tell me, have you ever been scammed by a service professional? (Women especially.) What was the outcome, and how did that experience make you approach subsequent situations differently?
Not only am I not recommending Roto Rooter, I also encourage everyone to avoid Ben Franklin Plumbing, another national chain. After some thinking last weekend, I decided to call them to get a second opinion before Roto Rooter started the job Tuesday. Two plumbers showed up Monday morning and I explained that Roto Rooter found a crack in my sewer line pipe and that it would be $4,700 to repair. They pretty much said yeah, Roto Rooter sucks, you can’t trust them. But, rather than checking out the problem themselves with their equipment, they simply put a measuring tape down the pipe then called a supervisor to get an estimate. What a joke! They said they couldn’t give an estimate for a few days, I said that won’t work and thanked them, then they asked me for $99. I refused, since they didn’t do anything. Here’s my Yelp review.
About a year or so ago I noticed that my dog Sassy had lost that spring in her step. She wasn’t as eager to go out for a walk, which had always been her favorite thing to do, preferring to nap and snore (loudly). Mike and I just attributed to her becoming lazy. The vet last year said since she’s an old girl (she’s 15) she was probably just slowing down, like people do.
I work from home and I spend practically all my time under the same roof as Sassy, so it was hard to notice when things really began to change. Also, she’s always been a very anxious, nervous dog, and that’s one of the symptoms of dementia, so it was hard to identify what’s normal for her and what’s not. Here are some unusual behaviors we noticed:
She needed help in finding her way out of her crate when the door was wide open
She pooped on the kitchen floor immediately after getting home from a walk
She’s easily startled
She seems to not recognize our regular walking route. She’s walking with less confidence and seems unsure as to where to go.
The big one: Pacing. She can pace the floors for hours, both day and night. (And the clicking of doggie nails on the wood floors and the clanging of her collar tags is enough to drive anyone mad!) This is what opened our eyes to the fact that something isn’t right with our pup.
Notes I jotted down about what we’d observed in Sassy.
I read about a medication created to treat canine cognitive disorder, selegiline (brand name Anipryl), so I made a vet appointment to ask about it.
I described her symptoms and the vet agreed that she seems to be showing signs of dementia. She said she could be a candidate for selegiline, but suggested first starting her on supplements to see if that would work. She sent us home with a big bottle of omega 3 liquid, which we squirt on her food once per day. The vet said to go on Amazon and buy a bottle of Cell Advance, an antioxidant meant to improve the immune system, and she gets one capsule per day.
She’s only been on these things for a few days and it could be our imagination, but she seems more on the ball and less confused and more active. Then again, she has good moments and bad moments, so it could just be that we’ve hit a string of good moments/days. Either way, I’ll take it! (As I’m typing this, she’s pacing, and pacing, and pacing… Spoke to soon?)
It’s so heart wrenching to watch my best buddy get old. I just want her to have a happy life and I’ll do my best to make sure she has one.
Here’s a really great video on what canine cognitive dysfunction looks like. Sassy isn’t quite this advanced yet, but watching it was helpful.
Have you gone through this before, or are you experiencing it now? I’d love to hear about it!
Waiting for the vet to come into the examination room
I decided to attempt a “what I did over the weekend” post. I haven’t been able to figure out a way to approach this type of post in an interesting, storytelling kind of way, so I haven’t done one before; I just don’t think a straight recounting of my activities just for the hell of it is very interesting. But, here goes nothing:
What I do before everything else: Walk my tiny puppy.
Friday, July 3 was a holiday for most people, including me and Mike, so we set off to Trader Joe’s. But first, I walked Sassy. I walk her twice a day and I have a few different routes. It’s hard to take photos while holding a leash!
Back home!On one of our walking routes. This is the 1900 block of S. 13th St., around the corner from us.
Often the most stressful part of my week: Braving the crowds at Trader Joe’s.
Next we went to Trader Joe’s. It’s ridiculous that a city as large as Philly only has one Trader Joe’s, and it’s small, too. As a result, there are often lines of cars waiting to get into the tiny parking lot, and sometimes there’s also a line of people waiting to get into the store. But we’ve hacked the system and we just park on the street if we can when it gets like this.
We didn’t wait in this stupid line! We parked across the street at a meter.Mike grinding the coffee.
Chips and salsa but nothing else.
First attempt at lunch.
We were starving when we got home, so of course we ignored the food we had just bought and wandered around the neighborhood instead. We ended up at Cantina Los Caballitos, something we always regret because it usually sucks. But I had one great meal there so I keep giving it chance after chance.
We ordered margaritas then the server didn’t come back for a really long time. He brought us chips and salsa, then disappeared again. When he re-emerged, we just asked for the check and got the hell out of there. I’m not sure why it’s always so packed and why it has such great Yelp reviews. Here’s my Yelp review.
Second attempt at lunch.
Stupid Hawthorne’s.
We left Los Caballitos and went to Hawthorne’s. We used to like going there, but then there was a fire and it was closed for a long time. We tried to go back a few times for brunch but it was always too crowded. We figured it would be easy to get a table in the late afternoon and we were right — it was practically empty.
It’s 10-12 blocks away, so we were beyond starved when we arrived. But when we looked at the menu we saw they changed it and there were very few vegetarian options! Seriously? There used to be a lot of great veggie stuff here.
Since we walked all the way there, we decided to split a tomato and mozzarella panini then go somewhere else. We asked for the ham to be left off (they still charged us the same, though — lame but not surprising). But the sandwich was really small and there was hardly anything on it, so we were hungry when we left. The service was crappy, too — there was hardly anyone there but the server forgot our drink order. Here’s my Yelp review. Get your act together, Hawthorne’s. And the other place, too.
Give up on lunch.
After that, we walked to Acme to get some things for the July 4 BBQ at Mike’s mom and stepdad’s house that we couldn’t get at Trader Joe’s. Then on the way home, we walked by Stateside, which has these cool sidewalk stools:
Photo credit: Passyunk Post
On nice days there usually aren’t any stools, but that day there were stools so we grabbed two! We don’t like the food here (very meaty) so we each had a cocktail, then it turned into happy hour and we couldn’t resist the $5 Manhattans and half-off beers:
We were chatting with a couple at the bar who had their dog with them, a pit mix named Daisy. They adopted her from PAWS, where I volunteer, and she was really sweet. She somehow got off her leash, though, and she started running around while her owners yelled for her and tried to corral her. She was about to run into traffic when I dove off my stool and tackled her. I’m covered in bruises now: bruises on my back, legs, arms and elbow. But I’m glad the puppy was safe.
I never take bathroom selfies while sober. Does anyone?
After that, things get very hazy. I’m not sure why we did this, but we then went to The Bottle Shop, a craft beer store and bar down the street, for a few beers, then went home, still toting our Acme bags. It was not my finest hour — our mistake was only eating a half a sandwich all day and a few chips then floating with the current of drinks and drinks and more drinks. And…more drinks. I’ll just leave it at that. Moving right along!
The next day: Fourth of July in Delaware!
Mike manned the grill under the watch of stepdad Ray.
Veggie dog, grilled marinated tofu, grilled eggplant and corn
Walking Sassy around in grassy Delaware (a.k.a. doggie paradise)
We drove to Mike’s mom and stepdad’s house in Delaware, about 40 minutes away, to celebrate Independence Day. They have a big yard and we brought Sassy because she’s terrified of fireworks and people set them off in the street in the city. Plus we were going to be there all day and we can’t leave her home alone for very long anymore because she’s 15, plus she’s showing signs of dementia. (We have a vet appointment to address that on Wednesday, so more later on my poor confused pup.)
After we ate we went on a train ride on the historic Wilmington and Western Railroad to a park a few miles away in Hockessin, Delaware to watch fireworks. It was really cool and a lot of fun! The train first started running in 1901 and it’s been fully restored.
Family!
Waiting for the fireworks to start.
A low-key, photo-free Sunday.
We didn’t do much of anything on Sunday — Mike made a vegan pizza with garlic crust, and I devoured it before I could think of photographing it; we watched a movie (“Chappie”); went for a walk and then went to bed early. I didn’t take any photos Sunday.
I’m getting married in a few months and I’m not changing my name. (Neither is Mike.)
An article in the New York Times a few days ago says more American women are choosing this route (although I don’t know why they used the archaic word “maiden” in the headline and throughout the story). It’s now at 20 percent, up from 14 percent in the ’80s.
My choice to do this was undoubtedly a foregone conclusion to anyone who knows me well. Off the top of my head I’d say 60 percent of my married friends have kept their own names, while about 40 have changed their names, so this isn’t anything unusual in my world.
After reading the NYT story last night I had trouble sleeping because I was thinking about all the ways that the rituals associated with marriage are so patriarchial. Like the practice of women changing their names. Like having the father walk the woman down the aisle to “give her away.” And the bridal bouquet toss at the reception, which is essentially placing the single and female wedding guests into what is, to me, an undignified scramble.
Now that we have marriage equality in the U.S., I wonder how it’ll change what we see as traditional when it comes to marital ceremonies and naming practices. Maybe things will evolve, maybe not, but everyone is free to do what they want, which is awesome. I love to see offbeat and unconventional stuff at weddings, though, because it feels like the couple is sharing more of themselves.
I dislike the concept of tradition, especially when it comes to upholding practices that really make no sense in the modern world. It’s like following a script written long ago, and the reason for doing it is because “that’s how it’s done.”
While I stared into the dark last night I thought of a way to express all this without offending everyone who followed the usual wedding traditions, because most people do, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s not for me, though, and Mike and I knew from the start that our wedding would be what we wanted it to be.
Not only that, my name would be what I wanted it to be. Every person has a right to be called what they want to be called, regardless of gender identity, marital status or anything. I’m not changing my name because the one I have is just fine.
And while I don’t particularly like it that much (why didn’t my mom agree to name me Samantha like my dad wanted?!) and they didn’t bother to give me a middle name for some reason, it’s served me well. (Here’s a thought: What if I change my name to Samantha when I get married?)
Sure, you can argue that not changing your name after marriage is no less anti-patriarchal than doing so —after all, your birth name is your father’s name. But that’s the name you were given at birth; you had no choice in the matter. I’m getting married to the man I love, not becoming his property (which is what it meant in the 19th century) nor is he becoming my property.
My name always has been and always will be my own, and the same applies to Mike’s name. I’ve established my own identity under this name, and I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of my identity becoming merged with Mike’s. I see it as retaining my independence as an individual human being, which seems particularly important when making a loving commitment.
And yeah, of course, this is feminist. Somehow that word has become perceived as a “bad word” lately. I’m my own person and, as the rallying cry goes, the personal is political. Guilty as charged.
On top of all this, changing your name is a hassle and it’s expensive. Even if I was inclined to change it, I still wouldn’t do it because I know myself well and I just wouldn’t bother following through on all you need to do — passport, license, Social Security card, credit cards and really anything official that’s in your name. Meanwhile, the guy doesn’t have to lift a finger. Infuriating.
If I were open to changing my name, I’d ask Mike to change his too just to make it a fair process.
If you’ve read this far and you disagree with what I’ve said here, I want to explain that what others choose to do has nothing to do with what I choose to do. People should do what’s right for them and not think that because someone else takes a different route that their decisions are bad or wrong.
I accept everyone — okay, if you’re a mean, racist, homophobic person, I would have a hard time accepting you. But if you changed your name when you married or you plan to do so, or if you had a traditional wedding, please don’t think I’m saying anything negative about the choices you made or will make.
It’s kind of like this: I’ve been a vegetarian for 17 years but I still wholeheartedly love and accept the people in my life who eat meat. It has nothing to do with me and I don’t care. (And they seem to have no issues with me eating rabbit food.)
I see name changing and wedding plans as the same thing. We have a right to lead our lives the way we see fit, and we all have reasons for doing what we do. As long as we’re not being assholes, who the fuck cares? Love is at the heart of it all, anyway.
If you agree or disagree with what I’ve said here or if you have something you want to say, please leave me a comment!
I never attended a prom, so I’m happy to have a chance to look like a prom queen on my wedding day. (In other words, I’ll be wearing a puffy dress but it won’t be white.)
I was inspired to write this by Mama Kat’s writing prompt, “something embarrassing that happened at school.”
I was 15 and in sitting in the front row of my 10th grade English class. Suddenly, I felt something — got my period unexpectedly in class. Now, this is something that happens in life, but at that age, I was still learning how to manage things. Even though I was wearing black pants, I didn’t want to stand up because I was afraid people would see, so I acted like everything was just fine.
When class ended I gathered my stuff slowly and left the room last, then rushed to the restroom. Afterwards, I confided in some friends and they assured me there was nothing was visible on my pants because they were black, so that made me feel better.
The next day, the teacher, Mrs. Wierman, a.k.a. the dreadful human who taught me how to analyze Beowulf, came up to me before class. She was a small woman with short, curly gray hair and glasses and she must have been close to retirement at that point.
Kids were getting settled in their seats and chatting to each other when she put both of her elbows on my desk, leaned into me, and hissed, “Did you ‘get sick’ on your chair yesterday?” Her tone was accusatory and I wanted to disappear.
I said, “No, what do you mean?”
“There was a stain on your chair and the person who has this seat after you refused to sit in it. She created a big fuss over it!”
“No, I didn’t get sick on my chair yesterday.”
She looked at me with a skeptical smirk and walked away without another word.
I knew what she meant — there must have been a blood smear on my chair and I didn’t realize it. But I don’t consider that “getting sick,” I got my period, which is a normal thing, and I had a mishap, but I wasn’t sick.
Still, I felt so humiliated that tears came to my eyes right there in class. I don’t think anyone saw, which would have made things so much worse.
I think if she had phrased her question differently and had a less accusatory tone and approached me in a more private manner, it wouldn’t have been so bad. I probably still would’ve cried, though.
What the fuck, though? Like, why even say anything to me? I was shamed because I was a teenager who had an “accident” that came as a normal and natural consequence of being female. Even though it was so long ago, I’m still pissed about how ashamed she made me feel.
If I hadn’t thrown my yearbooks away years ago I would’ve included a photo of her with this post to shame her right back for being such an asshole. But instead, here are my cats Magilla and Kevin playing with a tampon.
If you’d like to share something embarrassing that happened to you in school, I’d love to hear about it!
Lorenn at Lovely and Cozy was sweet enough to ask me to take my readers on a blog tour! (Thank you, Lor!)
It’s called The Blog Tour Award and I have to pick at least four people to do it, too. But first, my responses to these prompts:
1. How does your blog differ from others in your genre?
I’m not even sure what my genre is! When I first started this blog I wanted it to be sort of like a newspaper column. I think it differs from other blogs in that I try to look at larger or deeper issues, or make connections between various incidents or thoughts to form a conclusion.
I guess that’s a complicated way of saying that I don’t really like to write weekend recaps, vacation descriptions, and so on. Even though I enjoy reading other people’s day-to-day type posts, it would take a lot of effort to make mine compelling since I hardly ever leave my house.
So, since my daily life is not all that inspiring, I try to come up with more substantive topics instead. I have a list of topics I want to write about so I’ve keep checking those off as I go along. Sometimes, though, something will happen that’s blogworthy. I just try to keep it interesting not only to read, but also to write.
2. How does your writing/creative process work?
I don’t like to post something just to post it, so it could be a week or two before I come up with something interesting enough to write about. First I write it in my head over the course of at least day, usually more. This involves first mulling it over and then actually writing the post mentally, sentence by sentence, before I sit down to write. It at least gives me a framework to start with, and I tend to do this as I’m falling asleep or maybe while walking Sassy.
Then when I sit down to write, it can take a day or two before I finish it — I tend to write here while I’m doing other stuff so I shift back and forth. Then once I’m done writing, I add photos (all of the photos in my blog are ones I take myself) then make sure the SEO is in place. For that, I often have to rewrite some stuff or just add in words here and there to make it more SEO friendly. I proofread it a bunch of times, rewrite and revise here and there, and proofread again. I put myself though this long, annoying process so you can probably understand why it takes me a day or two to finish one post!
3. Why do you write or create what you do?
I’m trying to write a blog that I would like to read, and hopefully others will enjoy it too. I’ve been keeping track of my life in this way since I was 10, when I received a Snoopy diary with a lock as a gift. Over the years, I’ve filled a dozen or more blank books, and I also had a blog way back when, before they were even called blogs. I started my “online diary” on Diaryland back in 2002. It was locked and private and very personal, and only a few people had access to it. I had to stop writing there in 2012 because the wrong person gained access to it. It was actually someone I was in a legal dispute with, and they tried to use some information against me. So stupid. It was disorienting be forced to move away from a platform I’d used for 10 years, but WordPress is a much better spot, so all is well that ends well.
I briefly went to Blogger, then took a blogging break, then I started this WordPress one about six months ago, making it completely public. (I registered the domain and began self-hosting not too long after I started it.) In a creepy twist, the person who caused me to abandon my Diaryland blog now reads this one — I can tell from the stats. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that at first, but now I feel flattered that she continues to be so interested in me and my life! Anyway, because of that, I don’t share anything private here. That situation caused me to step beyond the approach I had been taking (long, personal, confessional posts) and into the approach I’m taking now.
4. What are you working on at the moment?
Other than writing this post, right? Ha ha. Well, I have another post I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks or months that I’ll try to tackle this week. It’s about where we should draw the line when looking at our ancestry. For example, if you’ve been told your whole life you’re one nationality, but then you do some research and find out you’re actually from somewhere else, would you still call yourself the first thing? I think it’s an interesting question and when I write it I hope to get some feedback on what others think about this issue!
Okay, so here are the bloggers I nominate to participate in this blog tour! If you don’t read these blogs yet, you should because these women are great writers and they often give me stuff to think about, or make me laugh, or make me cry, or all of the above. Here they are:
But really, if you read this and want to answer these questions in your own blog, please do so. I’m really interested others’ writing/blogging process. And if I nominated you and you don’t feel like participating, that’s okay!
Here are the guidelines:
Pass the tour on to at least four other bloggers.
Give your nominees the rules and specify the Monday in which they should post their nomination answers.
Answer the four questions about your creative processes, which allows other bloggers and visitors to understand what inspires you to do what you do.
Compose this one-time post on a specific Monday (date TBC by your nominator)
If you wish to participate, share your blog tour on Monday, June 22 (or whenever you get around to writing it.)
I’m excited to give an update to this post from two weeks ago in which I talked about how I could not seem to get into a gym routine and was caught in a vicious cycle of not sleeping and not working out because I wasn’t sleeping. And when I did get enough sleep I made all sorts of excuses as to why I couldn’t go to the gym. I felt like crap.
Well, since that post, I’ve been to the gym seven times! I worked out three times last week and four times this week. I’ve been setting my alarm and Mike has also been making sure I wake up on time.
I had to start out with baby steps to build up to where I was six months ago, and I’m nearly there. This time I’m going to keep pushing myself and building my endurance and strength.
I was always afraid to do too much because I have a pretty weak constitution — I get woozy and dizzy easily, I faint easily and throw up easily plus I have asthma, and exercise seems to trigger these things. But taking small steps seems to be working. For example, I’m doing additional minute of cardio each time, and my body is adjusting just fine.
This is my favorite elliptical machine because I can see the sidewalk on East Passyunk Ave. below.
And I’m sleeping really well and I’m not worrying about dumb stuff anymore. Overall I feel like life is better now that I just buckled down, activated my motivation and made the firm decision to exercise and stick to it. Thank you to those who commented on that post because that’s really what gave me the kick in the ass, plus Mike has been super encouraging too.
When I was working out before, I really didn’t notice any physical changes, and that felt discouraging, so it made me less and less interested in investing the time. But now I realize something: Working out is less about appearance and more about physical and mental health.
When I’m older I don’t want to struggle to get up a flight of stairs or hail a cab to go three blocks. My sister Laurie is a great role model — she’s always been fit but she took up running a few years ago in her 50s, and now she runs 5ks all the time and has done 10-milers too.
Whether it’s cardio at the gym, martial arts, boxing, running, weights, whatever — I want to commit myself to physical fitness because it’s one of the best things I can do for myself. And although I will probably remain my puny self, the strength and confidence I’ll gain will be worth every bit of sweat.
Who’s with me?
I took a photo of myself while doing cardio each time I worked out over the last week! These are the most unflattering photos ever but I took them initially to send to Laurie to show that I was there, then I kept doing it. (The makeup I’m wearing is from the day before that I didn’t remove before bed because I’m a dirtbag.)
And this is Sassy, my 15-year-old puppy and interspecies life partner. She's my proofreader, too, so any errors in this blog should be blamed on her. (RIP Sassy, 2000 - 2016)
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