I’m back from Fort Myers and am still trying to process all that I saw in the land that brought us Kabluey. Let’s start with the easy stuff first.

It was hot. I was happy that when packing for the trip I was able to dig through my drawer and pull out the shorts that were crumpled up in the back, wedged behind seemingly obsolete items like tank tops. The good news is that it wasn’t very humid. The bad news is that it was still hot enough that both Kabluey and I got heat rashes after we went for an afternoon run. This was pretty humiliating for Kabluey since she grew up in Florida, but it was also rather shameful for me as a California native.

I also got to see some amazing Fort Myers sites. For example, Kabluey kept her promise and took me to the Prawn Broker, where I was able to purchase a souvenir t-shirt. I think I may be the only one in the world to actually buy such a shirt, as the fish monger had to dig around in the back for quite some time before returning with a green shirt that said AhBeCrabby and Fish on the front, and smelled heavily of crustaceans.

We also got to go to Chili’s, which as avid watchers of The Office, was very exciting for us (There are no Chili’s in Portland. In fact, the only one in the state of Oregon is down in Eugene). We learned that “skillet of cheese” is an actual menu item (we’d heard this appetizer mentioned on an episode of The Office, but assumed it was a joke). We were so excited about our trip to Chili’s that we had actually called down to Fort Myers while still in Portland to inquire about their Happy Hour schedule and specials. It was then that we learned that their happy hour is “all day, every day”. Their beer special is a two for one deal, and for unknown reasons, they insist on bringing you both of your beers at the same time. Chili’s is the best.

Side note: a general problem with Florida, and one of probably several reasons why I could never live there, is that their beer selection is deplorable. When Sam Adams is the best thing on tap (and the only thing I even considered drinking), there is a serious, serious issue.

Probably the best (or at least the most vacation-like) part of the trip was staying for two nights at the La Playa resort where Kabluey’s brother works. He hooked us up with a very inexpensive rate, which is good because at full price those 2 nights would have cost more than my mortgage. We sat at a fire pit at the beach (drinking Sam Adams…), swam in the (3!!) lagoon-like pools, ate fancy food (for free!) and enjoyed an amazing view of the gulf from our furnished balcony. It was interesting to hobnob with wealthy families that were staying at the resort, not that they acknowledged our existence. It kind of reminded me of growing up around rich people, who also didn’t acknowledge my existence. Some things never change, I guess.

There is much, much more to say about the trip. The most interesting things relate to Kabluey and her family, and how they interact (or don’t) with each other. Kabluey’s mom… wow… I don’t even know where to start. I will definitely share thoughts about the woman who spawned Kabluey, but for some reason when I try to write about it my eye starts to twitch, making it very difficult to see the screen when I am typing. I am taking this as an indication that I need more time to gather my thoughts before I dive into this (truly fascinating!) topic.

Maybe it’s because it is supposed to be Spring, but the weather is still wet and cold and horrible. Maybe it’s because it is so very far away from any major holiday or day-off-triggering event. More likely it’s because this month has historically contained some of the more upsetting times of my life. Whatever the reason, March kinda sucks.

This is the first time since I started this blog that I don’t really feel like writing. It’s not like there is a lack of things to write about. Stuff has been happening (not particularly exciting stuff, but one could argue that nothing I’ve written about has been earth-shattering). I’ve made some strides in my attempt to change jobs. I’ve been plugging away at training for my athletic endeavors. I’ve even been batting around some ideas for a book I may write. All good stuff. But I feel blah and generally I think it’s best to keep to myself when this mood takes over.

The good news is that at the end of this month I’ll be going to Florida with Kabluey to see her family. There will be sun, which I desperately need. (And according to Weather Underground, there will also be 96% humidity, which will likely result in my hair reaching a level of curliness never before seen in nature). I’m excited to see where Kabluey grew up, and visit all the places she used to go when she was a tiny weirdo (like the The Prawn Broker, where she used to go on Christmas Eve and where she promised we could go for dinner one night). I will also get to meet Kabluey’s mom, and from all accounts this will be an experience I will not soon forget. So whatever funk I’m in right now will surely be over soon.

The main bathroom of my house has had issues for months. I had a window taken out of the shower in September, which left a giant wood-framed gap in the interior wall. Then about a month later I discovered a leaky pipe. I had a plumber take a look, and he was able to confidently identify the part of the shower pipe that was leaking. He quoted me a price of $700 to make the repair, so I thanked him for his time and have been showering in the basement ever since.

With my tax refund and home refinance money, I am finally ready to fix the bathroom. Still, the $700 plumbing repair was a bit out of my budget, so I asked my very handy uncle if he could help me out with that part of the project. Because he is a glutton for punishment, he said yes.

I spent a few nights last week chiseling tile off the walls and inhaling toxic grout/cement dust in preparation for my uncle’s arrival. When he got to the house, I took him into the bathroom and explained to him where the plumber said the leak most likely was. He carefully cut a small section out of the drywall and we ran the water to see if we could identify the leak. Nothing. So then he removed a whole panel of drywall to expose the entire pipe and again we ran water. Still nothing.

It turns out, I do not have a leaky pipe. In fact, all I evidently needed to do was re-caulk the bathtub. Pity, since instead of that simple fix, I did this:

In some ways, the fact that I didn’t have to do a major plumbing repair is good news. But in other ways, like the ways involving wasting the most beautiful Saturday we’ve had in months laboring in a 3×5 foot bathroom, and creating (then patching) unnecessary holes in the wall, and driving to various hardware stores with my uncle, who prides himself on knowing many gas and time saving “short cuts”, this development can pretty much be classified as rage-inducing waste of time.

Tags: bathroom remodel, home improvement sucks

It was brought to my attention recently that the end of February marked my 5 year anniversary of moving to Oregon. To commemorate this occasion, I thought I’d list out a few of my very favorite things about Portland.

The assortment of beer that is available in this town is amazing. Oregon has some of the best microbreweries (Hopworks, Ninkasi, Double Mountain), some of the best stores for buying beer (Belmont Station, Hawthorne Fred Meyer <-- weird but true), and some of the best bars with rotating taps (Horse Brass, Concordia Ale House). It also has some great home brew supply stores, which is awesome because brewing beer is one of my very favorite things to do (except of course for drinking beer, which trumps pretty much everything).

Stumptown Coffee makes some of my favorite coffee. Their beans can be found all over town, but there is no better place to enjoy it than First Cup Coffeehouse. It’s close to my house, so Riley and I walk there most mornings. In fact, if Ry ever escaped from the house (which would require an uncharacteristic display of effort), I am 95% sure he would walk himself down to First Cup and wait on the side deck until someone came out and gave him a dog biscuit.

The cherry blossom trees were one of the first things I noticed upon moving here. The trees lined NW Lovejoy St., where I briefly lived before buying my house, and every year when they bloom they remind me of my first weeks in Portland.

In many ways, the weather in Portland completely blows. I do try to be accepting of this because I think anything that isn’t 75 degrees and sunny blows, and I realize that may not be entirely fair. There are good things about rain, and clouds, and sub-freezing weather. At least, I assume there must be even though at this precise moment I can’t think of a single benefit. What I do like about Portland weather, though, is the one random snow storm that we seem to get each year. The city shuts down, so I don’t have to go to work and can instead spend time with Kabluey and the pups, which automatically puts those days in a magical category along with unicorns and rainbows and Pat Benatar. Riley loves it too. He fights me tooth and nail when he has to go outside in the rain (making for a rather annoying 9.5 months a year), but at the first sign of snow he begs to go outside and frolic in the yard. He also likes when I make tiny snow men, which he later eats when I am not looking.

I should state for the record that I do miss things about San Francisco (good Mexican food, living near my brother and sister, going to Giants games, and… wait, that might be it), but moving up to Portland was definitely one of my better life decisions.

Tags: beer, PDX

I took the bus to work this morning because Kabluey needed the car and I had to leave earlier than usual to attend a breakfast meeting with three other members of my department. Unlike driving in the car, where we have learned I have to sacrifice my text messaging abilities in the name of safety and/or obeying the law, the bus allows me plenty of time to rattle off messages to my co-workers. And when I have to wait for the bus for twenty-two minutes in the freezing cold, those messages go something like this:

Shit-bag bus finally came. Will be late. Start without me and brace yourselves because I am about to come fucking unhinged.

It may be hard to tell from the above passage, but I actually really like taking the bus to work. I find the total lack of control over my commute relaxing. And I think it’s beneficial for my body to be exposed to so many different kinds of germs all in one confined space. It keeps my immune system in peak condition. Traveling on the bus is adding years to my life, I just know it. But best of all, the people that ride the bus with me are generally amazing.

Take the middle-aged lesbian couple that was sitting across the aisle and a few rows up from me. They were a spiky-haired, multi-hoop-ear-ringed, corduroy-clad sight to behold, and the closer they got to down town, the more in love with each other they fell. By the time one of the women arrived at her stop they couldn’t even get their I love you’s out without kissing between each word. Then there was the soft stroking of cheeks and the affectionate gazing into each others eyes.

I was convinced that I was witnessing a grand farewell. Surely this woman was departing on a long journey to some remote destination far removed from phones and computers and other modes of communication. Only, she didn’t have a suitcase of any kind (wait, does a fanny-pack count as luggage?), and I noticed that there was a lanyard around her neck holding what appeared to be a form of employee identification. No, this woman was not leaving her lover behind while embarking on an extended adventure. She was merely going to her desk job at Standard Insurance. And I got to witness what is probably their daily goodbye routine. That is why the bus is, at times, quite magical.

Really, the only issue I have with taking the bus to work is the same one I have with driving to work- both rides end with me at my job for at least 9 hours. Though maybe that isn’t the bus’ fault. Perhaps there is something that could be done to make my employment destination less miserable. Maybe the problem is me.

Nah, that can’t be it.

Tags: bad lesbian fashion, Trimet

“Blurf”. That was the text message I sent to Kabluey when I was on my way to pick her up after work. It was supposed to say “close”, as in short-hand for “I am close to your office”. But for various reasons, including traffic laws and chronic fatigue, my communication was reduced to “blurf”.

I know that texting while driving is a dangerous and stupid thing to do. I whole-heartedly agree with the new law that went into effect on January 1 that prohibits this behavior. I agree with it, but I don’t always follow it. Now when I have a need to send a text message while in my car, I implement a few new techniques and precautionary measures:

1. Look for cops
2. Hold the phone down near my knees in case there is a nearby cop that I somehow didn’t notice
3. Type super fast and don’t bother re-reading before hitting the send button

Add to the above circumstances a case of extreme exhaustion caused almost entirely by a need to put in ridiculously long hours at work in order to give the consumer world one more way to buy glucosamine supplements online, and you end up with nonsense text messages that say “blurf” and a Kabluey who will never let you live it down.

Of general interest (or not): spell check indicated that the word “glucosamine” in the above paragraph was misspelled. When I clicked on it to see what my options were, one of the words spell check offered as a suggestion was “Gewurztraminer”. Admittedly I had no idea what that word meant, so I looked it up. Turns out, it is an aromatic wine grape. If I was tasked with selling these delightful grapes online, I would surely have a much greater sense of job satisfaction. If you are interested, you can learn more about Gewurztraminer here.

I’m currently experiencing one of those rare (and probably fleeting) times when I feel like I am not in financial ruin. This unfamiliar sensation started on Thursday, when I found out from my loan officer that my appraisal had been revised and now shows a higher value for my home. This change means my refinance can go through as planned, and a $200 monthly savings is in my near future. (Take that, bitch-cow appraiser!)

To make a good situation even better, when the loan officer was updating my loan, she made what appears to be a clerical error and now, for reasons that are slightly fuzzy to me, I’ll be getting $1200 back at closing. I probably should look into this a little more, but at the moment I am content to keep my mouth shut, pay $6 more a month for my loan, and pocket the cash. And speaking of cash, it also appears that when the loan closes that magical thing will happen where I somehow don’t have to make a mortgage payment for one month. Add to all of this the fact that I got my tax refund on Friday, and I’m basically rolling in money.

Historically, I am not good at rolling in money. The urge to spend becomes overwhelming, and while I haven’t done anything too rash (yet) the desire is certainly there. For example, I suddenly feel like I can’t go another minute without an iPhone.

Side note: Interestingly, an iPhone wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to buy. I get a reimbursement from work for my cell phone bill and, because of some administrative screw up by AT&T that I have tried in vain to sort out, every month I pay my bill, and every month they send me a check refunding it. So, between the reimbursement and the refund, I am actually making money each month on my cell phone.

(The above side note is clearly the groundwork of an elaborate effort to ultimately justify the purchase of an iPhone).

What I really should, and hopefully will, use this money for is to deal with the issues in the main bathroom of my house. A full remodel would be great. Fixing the gaping hole in the wall and repairing the broken pipe so I could, I don’t know, actually shower in it is pretty much a necessity.

Even knowing that I must use my money for this bathroom project, I couldn’t help but sign Kabluey and I up for an year-long membership to the Hopworks Mug Club. We go to Hopworks pretty frequently, and will probably increase our appearances there over the summer, when we can walk the pups there and sit outside while we drink a beer. There are assorted perks to the club, including 21oz beers for the price of 16oz, special parties and exclusive beers. But best of all, we both got free (loose interpretation of that word) t-shirts! And anyone who knows me knows that I will do just about anything for a t-shirt.

Tags: Home refinance, Hopworks, tax refund

The fact that my home refinance is headed for disaster is not surprising, considering the complete lack of forethought that went into this endeavor. What is irritating, though, is the feeling that I got hosed by the appraiser.

I don’t consider myself a friendly person. I’m not particularly outgoing or social. But, I put on a good face. I guarantee you that the people I know who drive me nuts have no idea how I actually feel. I expressed this to a co-worker once and he looked at me curiously. I could tell he was wondering what I really thought of him. So I calmly reassured him that I did, without a doubt, like him… but if I didn’t he would never know.

I guess it was the anti-dog thing that rubbed me so wrong that I just didn’t care enough to make the home appraiser think I liked her. I exchanged no pleasantries. I cracked no jokes. I stood by and watched when she took her shoes off by my front door, even though I don’t care if people wear shoes in my house, and in fact, recommend it based on the extreme dustiness of my finished basement. Nope, instead I just alternated between packing my lunch and huffily locking up dogs. I was noticeably irritable, at best. Downright surly, at worst.

The appraiser showed me. The appraisal came back $10K less than I needed in order to make the loan work. My credit score is through the roof, and I have never been late on a mortgage payment. It would seem to me that since I can afford my current payment, I can certainly afford one $200 lower. But banks are picky these days, and logic does not appear to be a factor in the decision making process.

Now, my easy, quick refinance is a bit more complicated. I have to go out on my own and find evidence that my home was low-balled. If I provide this information to the bank, and they accept it, the loan process can continue. If they don’t revise the appraisal (and they said they rarely do), I either have to lower the amount of the loan (which is impossible. I need to finance the whole amount. If I had thousands of dollars lying around, would I even be going through this process?), or I walk away and lose my non-refundable application deposit.

I am certain that this situation will resolve itself in a satisfactory manner. These things just have a way of working out, and I am nothing if not lucky. (Yep, still trying to work the “positive thinking” angle. Question: how long does it usually take the universe to notice this optimistic bull shit and alter my cosmic path accordingly?)

Tags: Home refinance