Moving Preparations and Harry Potter (of course)

This week is going by rather quickly. I'd say that was a good thing but since this weekend leads to moving, a wedding and a lot of work to get ready for my trip next week, I think it's going to be a while before I get to relax.

I did get to work on the house yesterday though. I did such domestic things such clean out the fridge, scrub the path and plant some...plants.

There's nothing more disgusing that cleaning out someone else's fridge. I know it's my fridge now but until it's clean, I don't lay claim to it. It's clean now, thus it's my fridge. However, that was after an awful lot of scrubbing and cleaning. There were things spilled in there that I don't think I want to know from whence they came. They were sticky, smelly and just plain disgusting. I, fortunately, didn't find any furry vegetables though there was a bag of ancient potatoes buried in there as well as some milk that expired rather a long time ago. It was not a pleasant experience but it's about as clean as it will ever get now so I think it's time I started calling it my fridge.

I won't even talk about the bath. Let's just say that cleaning that took a while. It was literally grey in spots from dirt stains. I took down the ancient shower curtain, a tropical fish print and prepared to put my own more demure fabric butterfly one up when I move in.

I think the house is finally ready for me. I even started unpacking the kitchen boxes. I'm having a problem there. I mean how do you know which cupboard should hold what? Whenever I go in someone else's kitchen, everything has a place and it seems to fit. My cupboards are gaping and empty. I don't know which one should be my plate/dish cupboard. which one should hold my spices or wine glasses. There's so many choices to make!

I did start putting things in cupboards but I'm afraid that I did it wrong and I won't like it. I know I can change it later but it's my first official home and I want to get it right. It's one of those things that is so insignificant that later on, I'll wonder what I was worrying about but it still seems important right now.

I did reward myself yesterday with a screening of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Seriously, did you think I wouldn't? I won't spoil the film for anyone but I will say that now I've seen it, it's definitely not something I think a five-year-old should see and, if they do, I certainly hope they don't 'get' it; it's just too...dark.

However, for those of us who love the Potter books and the Potter universe, it's well worth a watch. I like it more than the last movie- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - which I felt was ridiculously rushed in an effort to make the shortest film of the series. It's one of the most intense and detailed of the books and to cram it into a short film was a bit ridiculous. This one is much better. There are moments of hilarity, moments of sadness and moments of just plain creepiness. That's just the way I like my Harry Potter.

I like to reward myself once in a while like that. It makes it worthwhile to be productive. It's like being on a diet: Sometimes you just have to cheat otherwise it just becomes miserable.

So, I rewarded myself last night. It will get me through the rest of the week which will consist largely of loading up my car, disassembling furniture and unpacking boxes. It's moving time, no doubt about it.

And, speaking of moving, I would like to take this opportunity to wish one of my good friends luck on her last day in the office before she leaves L.A. for the unchartered territory of Texas. I try not to mention specific names but she's one of my loyal readers and a great friend to boot. I met her in L.A. and since then we've both had the need to escape the city life for one of a less harried existence. As you drive out of the city, Ms. P- look back once, see the smog-encased landscape and think of the green lands that lie ahead.

Ironically, we're both having the movers come on the same day. It's strange how life works in tandem with those you care about, even when they're miles away. I've already done my cross-country move and I know how hard it is. I shouldn't be complaining about moving to a house, 20 miles from where I live now. Especially as it's my house.

I'm still getting used to saying that. Good luck, Ms. P-

And Happy Thursday.

A Harry Potter Day....

Today is a Harry Potter day. I say this because today's the day that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince movie comes out. I'm quite excited and yes, I am taking time from my moving schedule to see it.

I like Harry Potter Days. The best days are the ones when the books came out because as I say regularly, I'm a reader. There's nothing more relaxing and wonderful than having a big book to read that you can't wait to sink your teeth into and pass hours and hours of being lost in a world of fiction.

Today is still a good Harry Potter day though. I actually count the books and movies as seperate entities. Even though the movie was based on the book, they're different. I picture Harry, Hermione and Ron more as the illustrations from the books than the actors who play them. I collect some Harry Potter stuff and most of it features the illustrations. That's not to say I don't think that Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson don't do a fine job of playing Harry, Ron and Hermione but they're not the characters I read about in the book.

It doesn't mean that I'm not excited about the movie.

However, I do wish I could reread the entire series anew. If I did nowadays, I'd be reading each one for the multipleth time. They were wonderful reads, the kind of books that become old friends. The best thing of all is that they're a series and once you start, you have what seems to be an endless supply of future reading.

Of course, once you get to the last book in the series, it's a little like Christmas Eve; you WANT to read it just like you want Christmas to come but you know once it does, it's going to pass so quickly you're going to wish it was still Christmas Eve.

That's where I am with the Charlaine Harris novels. I started the last one in the series last night. I know that there'll be more later on but I had this fantastically entertaining pile of books to read and somehow, not slowly enough, I ended up on the last one somehow. I'm rather sad about it because I have no idea what to read next. I have books to read but I've been so immersed in the world of Sookie Stackhouse that coming out of it might be a problem. I'm going to wonder why everyone is coming out in the daytime and how, when it's a full moon, there aren't any were-creatures around.

Yes. I know. I should move onto other books. I'm sure I have some other, more literary, books to read. However, I like reading non-literary books. I applaud Charlaine Harris for creating a series that may not be the most literary thing ever but they are ridiculous entertaining and that's the mark of a good writer. I find escapism into her worlds similar to that of J.K. Rowling's. This is not to compare the two writers because they're wildly different in style, character building, narrative and everything. Yet in both Harris' and Rowling's worlds, the blending of our world with that of the the magical/supernatural is almost...believable. With the world of Harry Potter, it is easy enough to believe that underneath the bland, easy world of reality there's a whole, hidden world full of magic. It's concealed from the muggles in very creative ways, ways that are believable from the minute you step inside the pages of Harry Potter.

With the world of Sookie Stackhouse, once you open the first book, it is actually quite easy to see how vampires are able to be 'out' in the world, how the werewolves and were-creatures, witches, demons and other 'supes' are waiting in the shadows, watching to see how the world reacts to the Great Revelation of the vampires. Soon enough, these creatures will come out of the shadows and the humans in Sookie's world will see that vampires are the tip of the iceberg.

I love that in the Sookie books, there is no apology, no overexplaining of how these creatures can exist, why they exist. They're just there, given personalities and traits that make them oddly appealing and endlessly fascinating.

I'm going to be sad to finish inhabiting Sookie's world when I close that last book. I think I'm going to have to read another series. Suggestions would be much appreciated. I've heard Anita Blake is good but I'm not sure I want another vampire series yet, however.

Still, for now, at least I have Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince to watch. It's not quite the same as getting lost in a book but it will do. For now.

Happy Wednesday.

The Other Side of Macabre...

I have a confession to make. As a child, I was a horrible scaredy cat. I couldn't even watch the preview to a movie that looked like it might be scary. I remember my dad renting Jaws and he had to pause it through the gorier bits because I would have nightmares if I saw them. I remember watching a trailer for a film in which a man sat on top of a giant meat grinder and I had nightmares for weeks. I never saw him jump into the meat grinder. I never saw him even get ground up. Yet, in my mind, he did; I knew what was going to happen and thus, I would lie awake for hours, hiding under the covers, afraid of the dark.

I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of the giant tree outside my window for a while because I saw Poltergeist and there's an evil tree in that movie that reaches through a window and grabs a little boy.

I even used to be afraid of John Wayne because right after he died, I had a dream where he was buried in our garden. I was afraid to walk by the patio area for weeks because the stones looked like gravestones to me and I was convinced John Wayne was buried there.

So, what it comes down to is that I was a child who did enough damage to her sleep patterns with my overactive imagination without needing help from horror movies.

Ironically, nowadays, I'm pretty much the complete opposite. I laugh at horror movies and like that darker side of life, the Dexters, the vampires, the shadows that surround us.

Yet, it doesn't change the fact that I was a bit of a wussy child. My parents were really good about limiting what we were allowed to watch and most of the stuff I saw that gave me nightmares was around a friend's house or with my older brother. Yet, I had enough to contend with by letting my imagination scare me to death. I'd imagine seeing corpses in piles of leaves or hear the cackle of a witch on a cold windy night. Yes, I admit, Captain Monkeypants was a bit macabre, even back then but it was the other side of macabre, the side that was terrified of it, not the side that liked to create it for the slight thrill of otherness it gives me today.

As a child, I knew my limits. I knew there were things I had to wait to see, things that were too old for me, books I would have to wait to read, movies my older brother saw and then told me about. I had to wait until I was older to see and read those things. I'm happy I had to do that; I think that went a long way into helping me embrace the scarier things in life, of learning that thunderstorms were not heart-stopping things of terror but, instead, were a fantastic display of nature at it's angriest. It made me see that Freddy Krueger wasn't some horror creation that should give me nightmares but, instead, was a bit of a laugh and was so ridiculous, it wasn't worth being scared about. It was a progression from the innocence of childhood, the great unknown of being older, of being allowed.

The point is, I needed this natural progression from childhood. It made me appreciate things in due course. I was allowed to be a child for a long time, long enough to help me become a proper adult (or, at least, as much of one as I am today).

Nowadays, I see that happening less and less. I found out that my brother was taking my niece to see the new Harry Potter film on Friday. She's five. As soon as I heard that, I admit I was shocked. I know she loves the franchise; she's been my Harry Potter buddy for a while now. For the longest time, her parents only let her watch the first couple of films, the ones where Harry, Hermione and Ron are still children, where Trolls and Basilisks are the scary parts.

I guess they eventually let her see all of them. I'm not judging my brother and sister-in-law as parents but it does make me sad that they're so willing to let her see these movies.

I know the movie, technically, is rated PG so it's not huge that she's seeing it in a rating sense. But...as a child? That just makes me sad. This movie contains the throes of adolescent hormones, violence, death of a major character, battles, betrayal....all things that a five-year-old, not matter how mature, won't truly be able to get.

I think as a Potter-fan that I'm sad for her on a whole other level. She's missing the chance to truly, slowly discover the series and the pleasure of discovering a new adventure of a character. Instead, she's viewing the movies as a five-year-old, with a five-year-old comprehension; she's never going to have the chance to 'discover' such a wonderful series because she's already 'been there, done that.'

As a reader, I always advocate the book over a movie. I'm hoping when she learns to read, she'll treat the series as a new one but I don't think that's possible. I think that once we see a movie and then read the book on which it was based, it's hard to picture characters in a book as anything other than the actors. I try deliberately not to do that, to treat the book and movie as two seperate entities. I usually succeed because I'm stubborn and I suffer from writer-bias. The characters were created by the writer so he/she should be able to have the final word on how they look. Thus, I'll always believe a writer over a film company who cast actors in the roles unless they match up. The cast of True Blood, for example, couldn't get closer to the pictures in my head for most of the characters if they tried.

Anyway, back to my point about my niece. I'm not her parent and wouldn't dream of telling her parents what to do. Besides, they'd never listen anyway. It just makes me very sad on several levels that they can't say, "Sorry but you're too young. We'll take you to see Ice Age 3 instead." Now there's a movie for kids with talking animals, crazy squirrels and a more child-friendly storyline. I'm not saying that Harry Potter shouldn't be enjoyed by a younger generation but as the storyline progresses, so does the maturity level and the darkness the characters face. I suppose part of me doesn't want her to know about that darkness yet, to enjoy the fact that she's a kid and the hardest part of that should be stopping her younger brother from wearing her play-jewelry.

Yet, I'm not a parent. Maybe this is a way for her not to have nightmares about John Wayne being buried in her garden or imagining trees reaching in and grabbing her when she sleeps. It doesn't change the fact that part of me wants to grab her, sit her down and read her some nice stories that she skipped in her efforts to embrace Hannah Montana and Harry Potter, stories that are sweet, pretty and wrapped in pretty bows. Yet she'd probably scoff at those, wanting to know when the fighting started, when the witch would eat the children.

I think what it comes down to is that children today are in a hurry to grow up and me, in my old fashioned way, thinks they should get to be a kid for just a little while longer before the awkwardness of adolescence attacks. Nowadays it's harder, that line between adolescence and childhood is blurrier by the day.

I want my niece to have a proper respect for scary things and not take them in stride the way she does now. Yes, I suppose it's a sign of maturity but there are some things that should be scary and it worries me that she no longer seems to notice this. Maybe she's just not a scaredy cat the way I used to be.

Or still am...actually. I saw Ronald McDonald on a TV show this morning. I never noticed before but he could inspire terror, even in an adult. I think it's the big clown mouth- I keep expecting him to show a set of teeth or wield a knife. Either way, with his Happy Meals and weird friends, he inspires suspicion. Apparently, you never completely grow out of some things...it seems that I'm still a little macabre.

Thanks for reading. Happy Tuesday.

Wishing Harry Potter Spells Really Worked....

It is unbelievably amazing how quickly weekends fly by. One minute, I'm getting off work on a Friday evening and the next thing, I'm groggily reaching for my alarm on Monday morning, putting it on snooze in hopes that that extra 9 minutes of sleep will refresh me enough so that getting out of bed isn't so hard.

Of course, the snooze button never helps. More than anything, it's a taunting reminder that you do have to get up for something and no matter how many times you hit it, you still eventually have to get up otherwise you wouldn't be hitting it in the first place.

I hit my snooze button just once today and I still feel like I'd rather be sleepily lying under my covers, not having to get up. That happened on Saturday morning. I forgot to turn off my alarm and it went off and for one brief, disoriented minute I began to mentally prepare for the workday before I realized with absolute delight and joy that it was, in fact, Saturday and I didn't have to get up for a while.

Now I'm up, I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the weekend. I did spend Friday night cleaning the house in preparation for my parents' visit. I had planned on mowing the grass but, alas, a big thunderstorm put the damper on that. I spent Saturday morning cleaning my apartment. By the time they arrived, both my 'residences' were as clean as they were going to get.

I'm happy to report my parents approved of the house. They poked around, checked everything out and seemed to find no massive issues which was a huge relief, I have to say. My dad even installed a new cable outlet in my office for me so that I could run the internet in there. He's good like that. It turned out to be a really fun day. Even now, in my mid-thirties, I still crave approval from my parents and having them give the nod to my first home felt really...nice.

Naturally, I spent yesterday at the house too. I ended up mowing the grass. After two mowings, I can safely say I am not a fan of mowing. For one thing, it takes too long. I put one of those grass-catchy bags on the back of my mower but had to empty it every five minutes. I finally gave up on it. Then, of course, I looked over at my neighbours' yard. Their grass is that perfect shade of green, a nice length and not a grass clipping in sight. I felt compelled to rake up my clippings but then..what do do with them? My neighbours don't have a grass pile anywhere in sight. I'm baffled. I now have a massive pile of grass clippings. My grass looks nice but I have a feeling eventually, I might have have a grass mountain in a couple of weeks.

I still want to know what my neighbours do with their clippings. That's weird, right? I mean, I saw them mowing and it looked like they were cutting the grass but where'd the grass go? Maybe it's like a Harry Potter spell...all the grass is magically 'poofed' away as its cut.

Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination. Even so, I want a Harry Potter spell to get rid of my clippings. I think "Evanesco", the vanishing spell would work nicely.

Aside from mowing the grass and raking it, I didn't get too much accomplished. I did go exploring a little to find a Kroger. On the way, I passed a little "British" pub. I say "British" in quotes because though it says its an English pub and it has an English pub-y name, I looked at the menu online and, well, it's not that British. They have lots of British/European beers but with the exception of fish and chips, there's not a nod to British cuisine at all. There are a lot of burgers and bar-food but no bangers and mash, bubble and squeak, Welsh Rarebit or British breakfast. Nevertheless, at least there is a pub of sorts fairly nearby which is pretty nice in these parts.

I eventually found the Kroger though for some reason, my GPS (aka "satan") decided to take me on the scenic route. Sometimes she does that, even though I tell her I want 'fastest time'. Sometimes, I think she leads me on wild goosechases just because she gets annoyed that I call her satan. When I drove to our conference in Indianapolis, she took us by the hotel that was our destination about three times, telling us it was on the right. Turns out it was on the left but we were so focused on listening to her, we didn't see it. I could almost hear her laughing at us. I can't help it that, on occasion, her upbeat, annoying calm voice changes to the gravely, deep overtones that I would assign to a demon or figure of the underworld. Maybe she/he's cross that I don't give him/her more respect. I suppose I should, I mean satan is still trying to give me directions but it's hard to follow them because, frankly, the shock of hearing the voice usually takes over and I stop listening to directions. Also, I think satan needs a translator because I can't often understand him. He slurs, you see.

Nevertheless, even though GPS lady did take me the long way to Kroger, at least she didn't transform into satan yesterday. In fact, for the most part, I had a very pleasant drive through the area. It's nice to go exploring and see the possibilities for things to do, places to eat, places to shop, etc. Yet, there'll be plenty of time to explore once I've moved permanently.

As long as the grass doesn't need to be mowed. Evanesco clippings!

Yeah. That never works in real life. Doesn't mean I won't keep trying though.

Happy Monday.

Hazy Days of Summer...

It ended up being gloomy for most of the day yesterday. The gloominess became accompanied by humidity which meant the evening resulted in a sticky, sultry heat. Today is already starting to feel a little oppressive with its thick air and if the weatherman is right, tomorrow will be worse.

Of course, that's if the weatherman is right. Which he rarely is. This means I shall just have to wait and see, as is usually the case.

I'm looking forward to the weekend, humidity or not. My parents are coming down to see my house which I'm both excited and terrified about. I want them to see my new home and approve of it which is where the fear comes in. I have this horrible worry that my dad will walk around with his engineering-type hat on and start finding things wrong that sound dooming. While that would be helpful, I'm already a bit skittish about owning my own place.

They're also the first ones to actually see the house besides my realtor and me. I wish it could be perfect for them but the best I could do was to finish painting last night. There's no way that those mounds of boxes are going to get unpacked before they arrive tomorrow.

The hard part is that I have to at least clean the house a little from my painting attempts AND I have to clean my apartment which currently looks a bit like a bomb hit it due to the fact that I barely spend any time there at all and, when I do, it's either to eat, sleep or pack.

Still, I know they'll be ok with whatever I'm able to do. That's the nice part about parents. I need to mow my lawn again because it's already long. I know my dad will notice that. Part of me wants to leave it and, if he mentions it, happily show him my new mower and suggest he try it out. However, I know that won't really happen so I'm going to try to squeeze another mowing in tonight.

I keep reminding myself that a week from today is the last day I'll be commuting to work from my current apartment. The thought is a little alarming just because it made me realize I'll have to get up earlier to make the longer drive. I'll actually have to change my morning routine until, at least, the office moves and my commute is shorter again.

The thing about the office moving is that the date keeps getting pushed back. This is fine but...it's Ohio. We've been told September now. I'm hoping it's not much later than that just because this is Ohio and not too long after September comes winter and bad weather. The last thing I want to do is have to navigate the rural highways to get to work when it's snowing. I'll keep my fingers crossed though that we move before the winter. Though the people in our office who will be then doing the commute from here won't be too happy about that.

Ironically, as much as I love snow, I don't want to think about that at the moment. I know I've said that I'm not so fond of summer as I am the other seasons but it doesn't mean I'm quite ready to move on yet. Despite the sticky humidity out there, summer does boast some lovely treasures. There's nothing better than fresh summer vegetables and fruits on a nice day, of being able to walk outside, cold beer in hand and just enjoy the sounds of the summer around you. The flowers are in bloom, buzzing with bees and butterflies, growing slower and lazier as the heat increases.

In some ways, I'd give anything to have the days of summer back that we had when we were kids: Long, lazy days where you don't have to get up for school or work, in which you can get up when the heat is already in full swing in mid-morning. Days which were spent at the swimming pool, reading on a sunbed until the sun got too hot and then cooling off in the chlorine-acrid water only to climb out, laze your way over to the concession stand for ice-cream and then start the routine over again. Though those days were during my awkward teenage phase and they seemed hard back then, now I can look back and see how nice it was where the hardest decision for the day was ice-cream sandwich or frozen pizza slice?

This morning as I drove to work, I saw a man cleaning out the fire hydrant. Water was blasting out of the hydrant and forming an ocean-sized puddle on the street around it. I thought for a second how great it would be to pull over, strip off my shoes and play in the water letting it wash away the cloying humidity from around me.

Then reality set in and I realized that going to the office dripping like a drowned rat was probably not the best way to start the day. Yet for one brief liberating moment, I mentally let the water soak me and I was taken back to the days of my youth where my siblings and I would soak ourselves with the hose in the back yard on the hot, sticky summer days.

Yet, though it's hard to quite recapture the freedom of my youth where it was completely acceptable to spend the day at the pool or getting wet in the backyard, there are some advantages to being an adult and looking at that past through the rose coloured glasses that are a little foggy from the heat. The simple pleasure of getting home from work, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge and relaxing on my own patio is hard to replace. Having my very own hose that could be used for summer cool-downs or to water the garden I can plant exactly as I like is a pretty nice thing to have, indeed. And if spending the day in my office instead of listlessly trying to find something to do on a hot day without air-conditioning is the way to get those things, then I say bring on the hazy days of summer.

Happy Friday.

Coming Home Again...

It's a gloomy day outside. Once again, the weatherman was wrong. He said it was supposed to be hot and sunny all week. There wasn't supposed to be any showers that actually fell; they were supposed to stay up in the clouds. Unfortunately, when I left this morning, there was a sprinkle happening, just enough to completely make a mess of my car.

Nevertheless, I don't mind a little gloom. I do hope the sun comes out this evening though. This is not because I miss the sun, necessarily but because I have to finish painting with my "Mulling Spices" and having sunlight makes it much easier to paint evenly. Also, since the room I'm painting lacks overhead light and requires a plug in lamp, it makes it a little dark in there if there's no sun.

Last night I took a break from the house and had dinner with some friends and saw "The Hangover." I have to say, I enjoyed that movie quite a lot. It was very silly, very 'male-oriented' and yet because it wasn't men being macho and coming out on top but, instead, men who did very, very stupid things, I rather enjoyed it. There was something satisfying about the characters who weren't more than average in their lives using their drunken/drug-enhanced night to do things that they'd never do if they were sober. Yes, they were farfetched but...well....sadly, a lot of it was believable.

I liked the diversion from the house. The little town where I live is a rather nice place to go after work. The quaint little downtown area caters to college students so there are bars and restaurants galore. Most places serve pub-grub but, given that it's a rather expensive private college in town, also gives the rather spoiled students some upscale options too. There are more and more sushi or tapas places popping up. Unfortunately, around here, tapas are more like small versions of normal bar appetizers with a slightly more gourmet twist such as mini burgers with blue cheese and some fancy dressing or spinach artichoke dip with crostini.

My new neighbourhood is much more suburban. There are a ton of places to eat but they're more chain-based, less small-town. I think I'm actually going to miss that though since our office is now not moving for a few months, I'll be commuting back here. Thus, it's not like I won't be able to still enjoy the local offerings. I'm also going to miss my apartment. I thought that last night. I actually love it; it's been the first apartment I've lived that has been easy. My first two apartments had all kinds of issues that I know I've mentioned in my blog: ants, mildew, no air conditioning. This place is just...nice. Everything works. The place is clean. It's efficient. I love it.

I'm not looking forward to moving out in some ways. For one thing, moving is always a chore. Secondly, thanks to Sausage, I have to explain the rather large hole in my carpet. It's not like I can pull a rug over it and run away. It's going to be time to own up to the fact I had a contraband Sausage in my apartment for a few days.

The nice thing about having a month to move is much of my smaller, easy to move stuff is already at the house. Each time I go, I take a load. I've moved a lot of the smallish stuff already. I'm hiring movers just for the furniture. That shouldn't take long by the time I'm done with everything else. It's actually quite sad how little furniture I have but, having been an apartment dweller for almost 9 years, it's no surprise.

This is, however, a much easier move than my last one. A 45 minute drive is far easier than the 4 day drive it took to get from L.A. to Ohio. I get to ferry my stuff this time rather than watch it take off in a lorry four days before I need to get in a car and move myself. It's also much easier to say goodbye to the life I'm living at the moment because, well, it's not like I'm actually leaving that behind.

I still miss a lot of things about L.A. I stay in touch with the people I was closest to and in many ways, I talk to them almost as much- if not more- than I used to. There are some things that aren't as easy; I can't just go to the movies with my friend the way I used to when we both had nothing to do. I can't just drive to another friend's house so we can wander aimlessly around Barnes and Noble and while away the hours just enjoying talking about books. I miss the events, the food, the beach and the variety.

Yet, I don't regret my move. I'm content here. It's funny how we have to leave home to find it. I was talking to a friend at work the other day. She has a daughter who graduates from high school this year and who has the "I hate this town, I don't want to be trapped here" bug. I had that bug. It took a few years after high school and college for me to get away but I did. I went to L.A., had my fill and, ironically, returned to a town much like the one I'd been so eager to leave. I think somewhere during my L.A. years, I realized it didn't matter where I lived. I'd really been looking to find out who I was and I thought that escaping to a big city would tell me. I suppose it did, in a way. Somehow, it made me realize that it wasn't about where I lived but what I wanted. And what I wanted had changed. I stopped needing excitement and glamour. I started needing a life in which I could settle.

And now, having just bought a house, I'm settling. Yet, as it would even a couple of years ago, the thought doesn't scare me as I thought it would. It doesn't make me feel like I'm giving up anything. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm gaining everything. There's something to be said about that. I hope my friend's daughter feels the same way someday but, as it did for me, sometimes, it takes the actual experience of leaving to make you realize you really just want to come home.

I hope she finds that too.

Happy Thursday.

Apartmentalization, Comic-Con and Overcoming Paint-Fear...

This week is going by both quickly and slowly, if that makes any sense. Work-wise, it's dragging. Free-time wise...it's whizzing by. I suppose that's the way it always is, really, but I just seem to be noticing it more.

I painted again last night. I decided it was time to conquer my Post Traumatic Paint Disorder. I'm happy to report that the "Mulling Spices" colour seems to be behaving far better than the "Cranberry." For one thing, it's actually covering the walls without needing a primer. For another, it's dark enough that I can see exactly which spots I missed unlike my "Meadow" colour which looks deceptively like it's covering the walls but when it dries, reveals all manner of 'missed' areas.

I'm still not happy with Lowes and their signature paint. I sniff at it. Next time, I'm going to Sherwin-Williams. I have a friend who can get me a 40% discount there. I thought compared to Lowes' paint, it'd be much more expensive but by the time I'm done actually COVERING my walls and ceiling, it would have worked out cheaper to go to Sherwin-Williams. However, we live and learn, right?

Aside from painting, my life is terribly unexciting at the present moment. I do need to mow my lawn yet again. I bought a lawnmower last week and let me tell you, that thing is hard work. It was a bit of a nightmare to get it running. With my piddly upper-body strength, pulling that start cord thingy is rather a challenge. Given that the lawnmower kept dying because the grass was so long and it couldn't handle the load, I had to pull that cord a lot. I got my workout even before I started mowing the grass. Naturally, the bag thing on the back of the mower doesn't do a good job of catching the grass. One lane of grass and the thing is full. This means most likely I will have to rake up the grass clippings. I HATE raking. I find it tedious and rather dull. While I mowed, I did notice that there's also a family of bunnies living under my tool shed. Or, at least, they stay there from time to time.

This poses a wee bit of a problem. You see, I had planned on retrieving Sausage from my parent's house to live with me permanently. But...well...how do I put this nicely...Sausage is a dachshund. His ancestors were bred to go down rabbit holes to hunt, hence their long thin bodies. Sausage is very loyal to his ancestors. Let's just say there might have been an incident last week at my parent's where Sausage found a nest of baby bunnies and decided to honour his hunter's blood. He might have have shaken several of those baby bunnies in his teeth and accidentally-on-purpose killed them.

Bad Sausage. I know it's his nature but...they were baby bunnies. You can see why I'm a little worried about letting him near another family of bunnies, can't you? I'll have to give that some thought.

I do enjoy watching the rabbits though. There's a vacant house right behind me and the rabbits like to bask in the sun on the lawn and the deck of that house. I think there's four of them altogether.

I move in permanently next Saturday. That's when my furniture moves and thus, I do too. To complicate matters, I'm going on holiday to San Diego the following Tuesday evening. I'm actually going to Comic-con, the big comic-book/TV/Move convention. Now is the time on Sprockets when you laugh at me for being a nerd/geek. I've been before. This will be the first year when I go for more than a day. In my defense, I'm going with a friend who has always wanted to go but never been able to find anyone to go with. I'm actually looking forward to it since there's going to be some good panels this year. I know "True Blood" is having a panel as is "Dexter" and "Dollhouse." These are all TV shows I love. There's always a chance to meet/listen to authors I love. As a writer, it's a very good place to go to see other writers and learn from them.

It's also a great place to go to watch people. Seriously...there are some weird people there. I mean, obviously...it is a comic-book convention. Though, the days of it just being "Star Trek" people are long gone. Nowadays, there's everyone from the Twilight crowd to shows like "Lost", movies like the new "Sherlock Holmes" and video games. It's an overwhelming place but it's pretty amazing. Of course, they're doing a panel for the new Twilight movie on Thursday from what I've heard. This means that the place will be packed with teeny-boppers and their mothers, all straining for a view of Robert Pattinson and stalking the poor boy until he has to run and hide. From what I read, he does a lot of running and hiding from insane fans. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to play Edward Cullen. I feel bad for him because those Twilight fans are quite insane. So are their mothers.

I'll be blogging more about my Adventures at Comic-Con after I've been. It's only two weeks away. I'm excited though I wish the timing were a little better. The week right after I move is going to be a bit hectic. Still, I'll have the following weeks to settle down, unpack and really enjoy the fact that I live in a house. I'm already appreciating that while I have neighbours who seem really nice and they may be next door, they're not directly above, below and beside me in their dwellings. I cannot hear their sado-masochistic sex-sounds from my house. Granted, I haven't tried sleeping in their with the windows open but given that my future-bedroom faces my neighbours who have an eight-year-old, I'm not too worried. Of course, I haven't heard those sounds in my apartment for a while due to the fact that my upstairs neighbour moved out. I'm not too disappointed by that although there was a certain entertainment value that came from that, no matter how disturbing.

I also have my own washer and dryer. You know it's sad when you go to do your laundry for the first time and you actually look for the slot to put the quarters. Yes, blog readers, I have been apartmentalized.

Happy Wednesday