Homemade

Here is my first hat made from, as Eric said, nothing but sheep:



It took three days to dry. It's a thick hat. I'm utterly pleased with it, even more so when Eric tried it on and said he might not mind having a hat such as that, except that the wool was a little itchy. So I may have to get some merino/silk or merino/cotton blend in gray or blue to make him a hat out of nothing but sheep. (A spindle and needles will be involved along the way.)

I've finally sent out an e-mail about the housewarming. This is not to say that everything's done--the seventh curtain of the twelve is still lying, hems pinned, on my sewing table, and the end tables that are destined for the basement are still in the living room--but we can be done in a short enough time. Plus we want to make more homemade ice cream.

I have yet to hear from Lisa on the results of her visit to the other shop. I called her to no avail yesterday, and I forgot to today. I'm vaguely figuring that she's calling her insurance company out of spite and is perhaps arguing with them about how she has to get the scratches fixed. If that happens and they refuse to pay for the damage (and therefore to get me to pay for it), am I still responsible for it? Dunno. I imagine my insurance company would probably have contacted me, though, so perhaps she won the lottery and is too happy to pay attention to little matters like her car and my peace of mind. I'm hoping I'll find out tomorrow.

We've made some progress around here other than the hat: Eric has confirmed he has a best man, we worked on the wedding favors, I put up the curtain rod in my sewing room, we ascertained that the basement has only one leak, though we don't know exactly where or what to do about it. I also called my mom for a long talk about the wedding, relationships, etc. Bev called me yesterday and (among other things) told me that Dad had been asking her questions about the wedding in a manner that made her think they wished I would share more of the wedding plans with them. I haven't been doing this principally becuase we haven't been developing the plans yet, but I called anyway and got Dad's advice on the basement and Mom's advice on dresses, food, after-wedding parties and so on. When they come out in September I foresee Mom and I spending a lot of time doing wedding-planning stuff and Eric and Dad doing a lot of house-repair stuff.

I also ended up asking her if it was okay with them that I was getting married, because I had never really asked them if it was okay and I knew they had had some reservations about how my relationship with Eric got started (well, the romantic portion of it) and the timing of the engagement. Mom said of course it was, and that she was happy I had someone to take care of me instead of living alone, and why was I so worried? I've been tense and anxious and irritable for a while, mostly due to all these changes that I'm still adjusting to, I think, plus extra stressors like the car incident and the check-ordering fiasco. (I think I've got that one sorted out now.) Plus the job is dissatisfactory. I've been trying to be quiet and bear things and get through my probation period, but Eric suggested that maybe that wasn't the way to do it and if I started asking questions and making suggestions about the things I find dissatisfactory, maybe they'll change or at least management will know that I'm thinking about such things. I'm going to try to be more active in changing the other things that are making me unsettled.

We went shopping Saturday and getting into my car Eric discovered that on the side of the driveway, right in front of the pile of wood slats and old weeds that the previous owners said he would get rid of but didn't, are a bunch of tomato plants with huge green tomatoes on them. The tomatoes I planted in the back are tall (apparently I'm supposed to pinch the tips so that they won't grow taller and will instead grow outwards) but only have flowers on them. I don't know where these tomato plants came from, but I was happy to see them growing and thriving, even in a bad place with no attention paid to them at all. I don't know that it's a metaphor--it's probably only a renewed hope that I'll have homemade salsa sometime this summer after all--but I'll take happiness however I can get it. I'm not nearly as miserable as I was before I moved up here, but there's still room for improvement. Which I will try to make happen.

Plodding on.

I called around about the repair for the neighbor's car. (It's not a Rover, it's a Grand Cherokee.) One place said you can't repair a plastic bumper, another one said you can. Neighbor will be calling the place that said you can, though she expresses skepticism. I also asked about paying for whatever charges the leasing company hit her for, and she said "Oh, no. That's not an option. They want new. I've leased every car there is, and they see everything." I'm dubious about this, but whatever. I'm anticipating having to fork over a check for two-thirds our mortgage this month. This is decidedly unappealing. But having this hanging over me is even more so. I'll be glad to be finished with it.

We cleaned up everything except the library for company on Sunday, Brenda and Edith and Michelle. We also served them strawberry ice cream. They were pleased, though we still don't have the texture quite right. We're going to have to do more experiments. Lots and lots of experiments. Think of all that poor ice cream we're going to have to go through. We're thinking of having four flavors of homemade ice cream for the wedding. We're uncertain as to whether we'll be making them or if someone else will when the time comes, but we do want to develop the recipes. And sometime I really want to try chai ice cream and Mexican chocolate ice cream, though those will be small batches consumed only by Edith and me, as Eric has declared them anathema.

Last night I tried to turn on my computer and it wouldn't fully load up Windows. So we reset it and started in Safe Mode and Last Known Good Configuration and flashed the BIOS and did a Windows Repair and nothing worked...and then we tried Last Known Good Configuration again and it booted. Apparently it was a virus. I had no antivirus software running because we didn't think to put any on after the last time we reformatted this computer. I have some now, the AVG Free Edition. If you haven't already, check your antivirus software.

Fiber geek.

I'm sitting here making a hat out of the chunky yarn I made from that brown roving I bought a while ago. Incidentally, the Hayden hat didn't work out for the other yarn I made; it needs more robust yarn. I may make wrist warmers or suchlike instead, or I may try a sample square of weaving with it. I do believe I am a fiber geek. Proof: I want to go to the Michigan Fiber Festival. It's the third weekend in August, which works nicely as Eric's friend is having a party the first weekend in August and we're tentatively planning on having our housewarming party the second weekend in August. (I'm hoping to finish the picking-up this weekend and do a serious floor cleaning, as our socks are still getting dirty, and then it's just picture-hanging and curtain-making. I've made three pairs so far, and they're in the washer to see if they'll get softer--they should, as they're linen and cotton. I can easily make three more pairs in three weeks.)

I will see lots of sheep and lots of yarn. I will buy a lace spindle (which reminds me, there's a fundraiser for sending spinning wheels and charkhas--wheel-like cotton-spinning machines--to Africa, which is pretty cool as they do it with spindles currently and do it to earn a living, and I now know that spindles are pretty slow when it comes to making enough yarn to make a fabric to sew your clothes out of). I will look at spinning wheels. I was kind of sort of contemplating maybe buying one then, if I could find one I liked for not too much, but the woman across the street called me today and said the estimate on her Jeep's damage was $620. I really did only scratch it a bit, so I'm thinking this is absurd and due to some auto shop's perfidy, so I'm going to wait for the copy of the estimate she promised me and see if I (or James) can de-BS it and get a more reasonable number. But if I can't, there goes much mad money. I've got a mortgage now, you know.

It's curtains for me.

The living room is clear, except for the end tables that will eventually be taking up residence in the basement. We hooked up the electronics and watched Galaxy Quest a few days ago while we did this. Now we've got the library to put together (i.e. get all the textbooks out of their boxes and onto shelves, probably get more shelves, rescue Eric's other books from storage, and--according to his wish--alphabetize books within genre) and the dining room to finish off (a couple of boxes of knickknacks). And locks and the leaky faucets in the basement to replace. But otherwise: we're basically done!

Except that the windows are uncovered. That's not true, exactly; two of them, now, are hung with curtains. There are six. See, I had bought this lovely linen/cotton material at $2.77 a yard (making it about $6 a window, rather than the $40 it would have cost by buying from, say, Target) and promised to make curtains. After all, how hard could they be? And indeed they're not hard; all I have to do is cut the appropriate length and trim an inch off the selvedge (because it's slightly discolored at the edges, which is why it was $2.77 a yard) and cut that piece in half and seam up three sides (with nice mitred corners) and sew a big loop on the end. And indeed it's not hard, but I just didn't want to do it. But the windows get very big and black at night and it's not very pleasant to sit and watch a movie, or sit and read, in the living room with those windows staring. So last night I finally got motivated and finished the second pair and cut lengths for the other four pairs. I will do my best to complete at least one curtain a night until they're finished. Then I get to work on the front door, the back door, the stairway window, and the bathroom window, but only once I find the right fabric at the right price. I'm figuring that at this rate, my sewing machine is paying for itself even if I didn't use it for enjoyment with quilting.

We've also been looking for a premarital counselor. This is something we'd discussed before--because our history is, well, odd, and we've both got some concerns because of it, we wanted to talk to someone. But Eric priced it a few days ago and it's going to be about $120 an hour, several sessions at least, and insurance won't cover it. As Eric said, that's a lot of dishes to throw at each other we could simply buy instead. I suggested a workshop or a class, which I've heard of as cheaper (though less individualized), and focusing more on skills for problem-solving, communication, etc. Eric liked that idea, and so I've been looking around--but can't find anything that isn't religious. I think this is interesting, particularly considering that several states are currently proposing making covenant marriages, which would require premarital counseling, a legal option. I wrote to the Ohio Department of Mental Health and asked if they had any suggestions on nonreligious premarital education. The very nice guy who responded suggested that I try the county mental health board. He added something about, "If there is any question of who you should speak to, ask for the Client's Rights Officer. They tend to be good at problem-solving." I get the feeling that this is not a question they're prepared to answer. I did more poking around and found that Ohio State University apparently offers classes, and also a newsletter. It's mostly one-page briefs on listening, communication, being willing to face conflict, knowing your partner, and so on. Reading through it I'm feeling that the education bit isn't going to be so much a problem as the concerns-about-our-history bit. Eric has said that perhaps we don't need a counselor if we keep talking about it between ourselves. I think this makes sense, but now I'm feeling disappointed that there aren't the resources to talk to someone about this--something that might, you know, prevent a divorce, if that were an option with us--without paying someone several hundred dollars.

Also I have just discovered that my bank and my check company are having a tiff and I'm caught in the middle, so I need to call people to yell at them. One thing about this job, it's certainly making me braver about calling people.

Kicking things off right.

Eric is up in Ann Arbor today, playing D&D with a group of friends he's been playing D&D with for years. So I came home and made harira, except with Great Northern beans instead of chickpeas because we don't have any, and called my mom. Mom was packing for her first move in twenty-one years and all she wanted to talk about was the wedding. She conceded it was very reasonable of us to drop the wedding planning until the house was in order, then wanted to know: what sort of food were we serving? Who were my bridesmaids? What colors had we picked? Had I selected bridesmaid dresses yet? (Michelle wanted to know this too. Apparently it's one of the first decisions a bride has to make. Or maybe it's just the decision the wedding party wants to know about.) I asked her about flowers and she said, "Does Eric wear a suit to work?"

I said no, he wears slacks and a tie, and she said, "Oh. Because in Korean tradition the bride's parents give the groom a suit. Would he ever need to wear a suit?"

I said of course, he could definitely use a suit, and she asked me about sizes because Nordstrom is having their Anniversary Sale (the good one; the other is the Half-Yearly Sale, and it's not as good) soon and she wants to be able to get something good if she sees it. Then she said, "Have you made his mother a quilt?"

I said yes, actually, for Christmas, and she said, "What kind? Because we give the groom's parents a blanket. So I was thinking you could make a quilt." I said that the quilt was a small Christmas lap quilt, and I could certainly make her another, bigger, better one; and she said she could also just buy a mink (note: fake, I think it's actually nylon, but soft and snuggly and available only in Oriental stores for some reason) blanket for her, but maybe it would be nice if I made it, and I said that would be fine, I have almost a year, and she said that was true, and we'd think about it.

She also said that traditionally, the grooms' parents give the bride lots of clothes, but obviously she didn't expect them to do that. "But I'm doing my part," she said. I'm going to have to ask her more about Korean weddings. It hadn't occurred to me to ask her about them, because from what my cousin Unhae said, and from the videos we watched of her wedding and her sister's, I figured they were Westernized; but maybe that's not so, or maybe Mom's thinking about weddings in her own time. Either way, I would very much like to be able to include some traditional Korean aspects in the wedding.

Meat + Veggie = Dinner

I love grocery shopping. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm still (yes, after--dear God--seven years now) in the discovery stage of cooking: I can buy these, and turn it into this! I wonder what other combinations would taste good! Maybe it's because I never got over that I'm-a-big-girl-and-I-can-pay-for-it-all-by-myself thing. (Probably not, since I don't like clothes shopping anymore.) Maybe it's because I just like food. I went today, and filled my basket to the brim with bread and vegetables and blueberries for $1.77 a pint and ground beef and raspberry lemonade ($1 each, down from $1.59, and I bought the last four).

Yes, ground beef. I now shop for a meat eater. It's strange. I have a very basic understanding of how to pick beef out--bright red, sirloin is leaner than round is leaner than chuck, big chunks of fat are undesirable--but I haven't gotten feedback on it in...well, I'm not sure I ever got feedback, since Mom never sent me to the meat section to get anything, she got it herself and told me what she was looking for. But if I had it would have been eleven years ago. I've bought sausages and frozen chicken chunks for Eric before, but those are standardized and require no thought. Beef, though, is important to the boy. He still considers meat the main part of his meal, though what we've been doing is having a main vegetarian dish with a side or two that I'll have and another--a little chunk or slice of meat--for him. I'm hoping to someday change this view of things, but I suspect it's going to take a long time.

I may be able to help it along slightly. My schedule, wherein I work from 12:30 to 9 PM most nights, doesn't make it easy for me to do much cooking, and this is starting to drive me crazy. There's only so much canned soup and pasta with canned sauce I can eat. So I'm going to start cooking (or preparing) in the mornings and make food for myself like I'm used to. There are some things that he likes too--cheesy potato casserole, fried rice--but not enough to satisfy me So I've informed him that the kitchen will be producing peanut broccoli pasta and Pad Thai and artichoke-lentil pasta and roasted vegetables and couscous salad, and he says he's okay with it. He's even going to try a bite of all but the most esoteric stuff (or things he already doesn't like, such as peanut sauce). I hope to expand our list of mutually liked foods. Or I'm just going to have to become rich enough to hire a cook.

A mess, but coming along.

The house is mostly done. We've got some more boxes to unpack, and some furniture of Eric's to get rid of, and a place to find for storing blankets, but the kitchen and dining room and bathroom and bedroom and computer room and sewing room and library are functional. And that's all anyone really needs. The TV isn't hooked up, and at this rate may not be for weeks, especially if I never finish sewing the curtains. But priorities, people.

Also the pipes leading to the washer leak. But we're on it.

The Fourth of July was memorable for the bad and overly loud band (the Nutones) and the family that was lighting sparklers and trying to burn the grass with them. Oh, and nice fireworks and kettle corn. The Toledo celebration isn't bad at all.

We've made ridiculously rich chocolate ice cream, the sort of thing that couldn't be used in Death by Chocolate because adding more to it would actually make it distasteful.

And then there's the car. A description pulled from my e-mail to M:

Last Monday I backed out in a hurry because I thought I was going to be late for work and failed to see the black Jeep Rover that's always parked right across from our driveway, and crunched into it. I pulled over and dashed a very quick note on a
scrap of paper. Walking to the Jeep I noticed there wasn't much damage, a little paint scraping. Walking back to my car I noticed a huge dent in my rear bumper guard and a broken taillight cover. (The light itself still works...I think.) I turned out to be exactly on time for work. That night I came home, talked to Eric about it, and
when we went out to go to his mom's there was a note sticking out of the mailbox where there hadn't been one before: "I live at 153 Cornell. You hit my Jeep Rover. Call me to discuss," with name and phone number. I was annoyed because why hadn't she called me, and why hadn't she knocked. It was too late to call then, but I called about four times on July 4 and got a busy signal each time, then called July 5 and left a message, then called July 6 at a different time and left a mesage. No reply, and I decided I'd given it a good-faith shot and stopped calling.

Today, I heard the phone ring while I was at work, and when I checked it for some reason I decided to check voicemail, even though there was no little icon. Four messages, two of them from Jeep Rover Owner. So I called and said I hadn't received her earlier message, which I'm not sure she believed, and said if she got an estimate I'd give her or them a check. She seemed a little taken aback, but I'm not sure why; it's not like I'd give her a blank check or she'd have me take her car in. Anyway, it was extremely minor damage, probably just requiring sanding and repainting, so I'm not expecting it to be too much...but we'll see. And then there's my car, which at least needs its taillight cover repaired. Plus new tires and a flush and fill and maybe new spark plugs, but that was from before. Grrr. However, the lesson is that a Jeep Rover really is build tough. (Though I think that's the Ford slogan.)

So there you have it. Things are a mess but coming along.

Preview of what I would write if I weren't too busy and cranky and hot.

Annoying day. Reasons: (1) People who use their answering machines to screen callers, then pick up the phone at the tail end of the message, forcing me to repeat myself and change all my notation for the call. (1a) People who throw my printout away because I wasn't there the very instant it printed but instead arrived two minutes later. (2) Fiance is doing all the painting and I think the color I picked for the sewing room is too yellow and not enough orange. (3) Tornado sirens forcing me to hang up in the middle of a call to huddle in the downstairs hallway for an hour.

Jennifer Homeowner has flashbacks

Ah, paint. Eric and I painted the living room and entryway today. We meant to do it completely, but that was before we realized that (a) we didn't have enough tape and (b) we didn't have enough paint. They're both mostly windows and archways so I had thought the one gallon would be enough, but no. And since we're painting over a dull dark green, we need at least one more coat. The rooms look much lighter, though, and I had no mishaps such as the ones I had the last time I painted.

We also taped off another room upstairs (aside from the living room, we've got two bedrooms and the bath to paint--we painted the basement a few days ago, because the previous owners had inexplicably painted most of it black, and with the white down there it's marvelously brighter) and discovered that the previous homeowners may have been fix-it types, they weren't very good fix-it types. There was a small desk built into a narrow corner in the room destined to be my sewing room, and the supports for it were actually glued to the walls. Eric got some satisfaction out of smashing them with a hammer until they broke off and then spackling up the holes (plaster would probably have been better, but we didn't have any and we did have the spackle handy).

Also, last night while Eric was playing World of Warcraft I did my part of our bargain that gets Eric to mow the lawn, and started taking care of the garden. Behind the garage is a square of earth, about as big as the garage, with a raised bed in the middle and a pear and an Asian pear around. My eventual plan is to clear this area of grass entirely and have herbs, vegetables, and fruit bushes, but this year I'm starting small. So I planted a raspberry bush near the Asian pear, and two pepper and two tomato plants, and some peas, and mint and basil and dill around the chives plant that Edith gave me and that Eric mowed down because I hadn't put enough dirt around it to make it clear it wasn't a particularly big clump of grass. I also cleared most of the raised bed. The previous owners had placed black plastic over one half of this, and in the other they'd planted strawberries...and then, over the plastic, they apparently planted lettuce, because there were four clumps of it, growing out of shallow roots in the little bit of dirt on top of the plastic. And in the non-plastic area, the strawberry plants were dwarfed by spiky yellow-flowered weeds. I got Michelle to whack some of them for me by pointing out that when they were cleared, she could see the strawberries hidden in the greenery, and she could eat any she found. In the meantime, I spread the 240 lb of topsoil and 40 lb of garden soil I'd bought (at about 2.5 cents a pound, for the topsoil at least) and planted. I'm not sure what to do to kill off the rest of the grass for next year--I've only covered about a quarter of what I eventually want to have as planting ground. I figure I'll have a gravel U-shaped path around the raised bed, but for the rest, do I cover it with dirt this year and wait for the grass beneath it to die, or do it early spring next year, or cover it with plastic now, or what?

Anyway, I have plants planted, as well as cantaloupe seeds started inside the house. We've got the first coat of paint on the front room and entry. The U-Haul is reserved for next Saturday. We bought an ice cream maker. We're well on our way to moving in.

Still life with fish and cherries

We have achieved house! It currently has no utilities, since the owner cancelled them for Friday (when we were originally closing) and we hadn't signed up for them yet, but I'll be fixing that in a few minutes. Then I'll be going over to clean what I can without water or electricity. The owner left a ridiculous amount of stuff, including an exercise bike in the basement (I wish he'd asked, as that would be heavy as heck to carry upstairs, but fortunately it works and I could actually use something like that), a couple of nice glass pitchers, an array of clean mugs in the top shelf of the dishwasher, a carefully packed box of funny glass, a stuffed toy, and an opened cup of blueberry yogurt. We're glad we went to look (and unload book boxes from my trunk, after 8 months of driving them around) last night. Pictures will be forthcoming, but probably not until the real/virtual housewarming. Rest assured it is a wonderful house, even if it is making both of us slightly uneasy for different reasons.

I dreamed about cleaning a fish tank last night. I dream this often, and it's usually in different places, but I've always forgotten that it was there and there are always more live fish than you'd expect from me forgetting it and therefore not feeding them. I don't know what this means. I did own an aquarium from age eight to twenty inclusive, but I haven't had one now for years. Though, actually, another of the things the owner left was a hundred-gallon aquarium, also in the basement, so maybe that triggered it.

In other news: I appear to be allergic to cherries. Two nights ago I ate some cherries and started sneezing and sore-throating. My tongue also itched a little, but I was figuring I was starting a cold so didn't pay attention. The next day, I felt better. Then I ate a few cherries I'd brought as a snack and my nose started running and my throat started hurting and my tongue started itching. It turns out cherries are closely related to hazelnuts, which I already know I'm allergic to (but more closely to almonds, which I'm not). Cherries. A chocolate allergy would almost be better. At least then I'd be avoiding something not particularly good for me. But cherries are luscious and wonderful and seasonal. Plus they're also related to peaches. If I become allergic to peaches, I will be one unhappy vegetarian.

Jewelry stores: the horror.

There are further difficulties with closing. Specifically, the title company has not given me a final number. Without this I haven't been able to get to the bank to get a cashier's check, and we're closing at 4 on Monday--I can't make that time either, but Eric can and I'll just be late; they'll have to put up with it since I'll theoretically be the one with the money--and I work that morning so I have no time to get to the bank that day either. I think it'll work out that I can call the bank and pick it up on my way to closing, but I'm not pleased with Louisville Title right now.

However, we resolved the other stuff, including the electrical work we'd requested--it turns out that our inspector may not have known what he was talking about, which is a little disturbing. We didn't get the quote for a whole-house rewire as we'd requested, but the essential stuff is safe now so we're not going to worry about it yet.

Now, jewelry stores. I've been meaning to write this down for a week and kept forgetting whenever I had time to sit down and do it. I haven't been in a jewelry store since--no, that's not true. I went to a jewelry store in 2002 to pick out a watch for my graduation present, but Mom was with me and was ruthless about getting salespeople out of our way. Before that was several years earlier, also with Mom, but Mom was looking for a nice present for Dad and the salesman kept pressuring her to buy a particular piece she was looking at. I didn't like that. I was also pressuring Mom, because I liked the piece and I thought she should get it, but that was different: I was the daughter, and I had a right. They should have been leaving her alone. (She did end up getting it, though I think it took longer because she was trying to make up her own mind while ignoring both me and the salesman.)

Anyway, last week Eric and I stopped at Kay Jewelers to look at wedding rings because we'd been discussing wedding planning and figured hey, why not. So we stepped into the store, finding the right case almost immediately, and a saleswoman swooped.

"Finding anything you like?" she said. "Looking for anything in particular? Let me know if you want to examine something." Then, before we could do more than thank her, "Let me show you some of these new tungsten rings. See the hammered finish on these? I think that's lovely. You might consider our Superior Fit (or whatever) rings. See how they're concave on the inside? That's so the edges don't become sharp." The insides were convex. She said to Eric, "Are you a diamond man, or do you want something a little more simple? We have yellow or white gold here, and some two-tone rings here. We have thinner versions for the ladies," she said to me. "What's your ring look like?"

I lifted my hand and showed her my sapphire, and her face contorted itself from normal salesperson cheerful into a rigid polite. "That's very nice," she said, and quickly talked about other things. It was clear that she was horrified that my ring was not a diamond, and probable that she felt none of the rings she was showing me would be a suitable match, as I had probably gotten my ring from a Cracker Jack box. Or perhaps she figured Eric had been too cheap to get me a diamond and therefore we wouldn't be such a good sale. She sailed on with her pitch nonetheless, talking nonstop until we said, "Thanks for showing us the rings," and walked out.

It took me a while to recover. I never had such a jewelry experience before--or any other sales experience, except maybe shopping for my car. I had no idea walking into a jewelry store was such an ordeal. I wonder if all jewelry stores are like this, and if they've tried noninvasive salespeople or just assumed raptors are the best way to get people to part with large sums of money for tiny rocks and metal. Eric and I had already decided that we would never be able to buy gemstone jewelry anywhere other than at the gem show (where we got my ring last year--have I mentioned how much I love this ring? I still hold it up in different lights to see how it sparkles and changes hue) and now I'm not sure I'll be able to buy jewelry anywhere else, except maybe on eBay.

Grrrr.

"Jenny, I just talked to Jennifer," said Mike (where Mike==homeowner's insurance agent, Jennifer==mortgage loan agent, and Jenny==me). "She said that your loan won't go through because the borrower cancelled it."

After a few seconds of strangled inarticulacy on my part he said, "I guess this is news to you?"

I wrote Jennifer a strident e-mail and she called me a couple of hours later to say that she'd made a mistake: that she was handling an account for someone with the same last name as me, so when Mike referenced me, she assumed he was talking about this other account, and that our account was listed under Eric's last name. This has pissed me off throughout, since we're co-borrowers but even the people I've talked to first have put it under his name. But oh well.

Today I re-faxed the purchase contract to Jennifer because the one I sent her last time didn't have both sellers' names on it. She sent me the appraisal, which came in at $4000 over what we're paying, but they still use the lowest value for PMI determination so we can't get up to that 20% like we were hoping to. Note: the appraisal listed the sellers under just one name, the husband's. Presumably this will happen with our house, too. Considering that I'm putting up all the money to get it--well, I and my parents--I think this is completely unfair.

I also talked to the lawyer about getting title work--another reason we can't afford to put the down payment up to 20% is that we don't know how much the lawyer's fee will be--and I will be going to visit Mike at his office to sign a document and give him a check for a full year's insurance. I don't remember having to do this last time I bought homeowner's insurance. In fact, I remember a very nice guy doing everything over the phone and arranging for my insurance to be withdrawn monthly from my account. Maybe I should have asked for him again.

And then, it's hot. Really hot. Yesterday it was 93 and humid, and we stayed at Brenda's because they have air conditioners (albeit window ones) there. We're considering renting a U-Haul this weekend and moving into the new house earlier than planned, since it has central air. But we're still not sure closing will actually occur this Friday, so we'll have to hold off on that. Also on calling utilities and changing addresses. Grrrr.

The site.

I went to Wildwood Preserve yesterday morning and, after stopping at the wrong place (the converted limo garage rather than the converted manor house), found the administrative offices and explained that I wanted to rent the pavilion and gazebo for a wedding the Sunday of next Memorial Day, and I knew I was two days early but I had some questions.

"Actually, it's open," the lady said, clicking through her computer program. "It's the month of the day you want to reserve, not the day itself. Let's check, because it fills up fast. Let's see...Memorial Day weekend...yep, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are already booked."

"Well, damn," I said.

She grinned sympathetically at me, then frowned at her computer. "Wait. That's the wrong year. Hang on...it's open." So I booked it. And she sold me a $30 membership that saved me $80 in rental fees, so it was an even better deal than I'd thought.

So we're set: our wedding date is May 27, 2007. This somehow makes it all that much more real. Now I have to start sending e-mails to family and friends in distant places; and if we should lose our minds so much as to want personalized napkins or glasses or candies with our names and date on them, we can now commence the madness.

Busywork

You know what makes me really happy? That when Dad sends out family e-mails he includes Eric on them now.

Today I was supposed to call for home insurance, fax the purchase contract for the house to the mortgage company, and visit Wildwood (since I called three times and they neither picked up the phone nor replied to my message) to discuss renting space for the wedding. I called Liberty Mutual but they had me leave a message and they haven't called back, and I had intended to include their information on the fax cover for the purchase contract (I just found out the other day that I can use the apartment office's fax free of charge. Why didn't they tell me this before?) and leave directly from there for Wildwood and then to work, preferably with a slight detour to Panera Bread so that I actually have something to eat while I'm there. I guess I'll have to skip Liberty Mutual. I tried looking at their website to see if there was another number to call (the one I called was for the Dayton/Cincinnati office) but all they have is an online form. Unfortunately I do not have an online life--or at least, not an exclusively online one. So, off I go.

Worklife and homelife are going fine.

There are a lot of "this person isn't answering the phone" messages. Most of them I don't mind, but there's this one, a male voice, that starts out quite pleasant but then, with "--to take your call" suddenly gets all snotty and smug. I can't stand it. I call it Phil.

I had a guy tell me, "I think it's un-American that you can call and ask me how often I have sex and what my blood pressure is." (I do not, for the record, ask people how often they have sex. I don't want to know how often they have sex. I do ask about their blood pressure, because that's my job.) He went on in this vein a little, and I mentioned that I could always stop calling him, he could opt out of the program, and he told me he couldn't afford it and repeated that it was un-American. I said, "At least it's capitalist," and determinedly went on to my next question.

Speaking of blood pressure, I had mine checked recently and it was quite low, so the job evidently isn't getting to me yet. Not that I think it necessarily will; some people I talk to are reluctant and others are chatty but most are pleasant and reasonably cooperative, and I've already experienced some disgruntled ones and don't expect it to get much worse. Plus I like this long break between leaving work Monday at 4:30 and returning Tuesday at 3:30. Then I have to work until midnight, of course, but them's the breaks. It's not a bad job. And I finally get paid this week, so hooray.

The house has been inspected and we're making our demands today; they're pretty reasonable and the sellers are closing on their new house this week so we'll almost certainly get them. I'm going to buy cleaning supplies and get paint swatches this week, and start packing things in boxes. Moving does not thrill me this time around; but having moved, and living in a place where I will finally (barring disaster) be staying more than eighteen months, for the first time since 1999, does.

Korea

As promised, I have pictures from Korea. Lots and lots. Mom got her Mother's Day/birthday box, which contained a CD of them, early and sounded approving. I have yet to see hers and James's, of course.

This was dinner the first full day we stayed, or at least part of it--we also had sushi, meaning raw ray and flounder (?) that had been caught perhaps an hour before on the ocean directly outside the restaurant.


You can't see the rice, but rest assured it was there. I ate marinated vegetables and the egg/vegetable cakes, which were good, and watched the others plough through the basket of sushi until it was gone. We drank Coke with the meal.

My cousin Eunhae, who was our translator and tour guide for part of the trip because she speaks English, took us to downtown Pohang, where we were staying. We parked on a street full of hardware stores


and we saw a multitude of cell phone shops (incidentally, James bought one, but it doesn't work in the US) and stores like this:


We took our road trip the next day to go to the folk village and (as it turned out) see more family (instead of going to Seoul). This was one morning out of two I didn't eat rice; instead, we had sweet rolls in the car. We ate constantly. We stopped at midmorning for a snack; the others had soup, and I got this:


Other than my not actually being hungry, this was fine, since I like rice and seaweed. But I asked Mom what the stuff in the lower left was, and she said without looking, "It's kimchee. Leave it alone if you don't want to eat it." I looked at it a little closer and then announced, "It has suckers. I don't think it's kimchee." I did leave it alone.

The Korean folk village, Yongin, was, as I mentioned, cold and dreary. But still very interesting. There were a lot of old-fashioned houses


and features of real old Korean life, such as the candymaker. They made the candy and would carry it around, banging their (expensive) metal scissors like the music on an ice-cream truck, and the children would run into their houses for anything they could trade for the candy--spare metal, spare anything.


This was my grandfather's favorite candy. Eunhae bought a packet and shared it with the family. I have to admit I didn't really like it, but I was glad to finally taste some.

Another thing at Yongin was the swings. While we were there and my aunt and grandmother were swinging on them, we saw this guy:


He was running back and forth with a bunch of children in front of a camera. Later we found a plush version of him in the E-Mart, Korea's version of Fred Meyer, so he must be Korea's version of Barney.

The next day we went to see a Buddhist temple. There were lanterns all over to celebrate Buddha's birthday coming up.


We weren't allowed to take pictures of the actual Buddha statue, but it was beautiful, and beautifully kept considering how ancient it is. There were indeed Buddhist monks in red and yellow robes bowing to the Buddha and watching the rest of us to make sure we were respectful. There were a lot of us to watch.


It must be a popular field trip spot. Most places we went had lots of schoolchildren there, come to think of it.

That temple was on a mountain; after we had gone, and bought roasted chestnuts to snack on, we trekked down on the mountain and to a different temple. This one was more pastoral


and also bigger and with more to see. Again, no pictures of the Buddhas were allowed, but apparently Bodhisattvas are okay. These guys guarded the entrance:


After that, we went to a museum of history and looked all the Shilla artifacts and the old gold and strange instruments. (There was one exhibit marked 'mushroom-shaped instrument' and we figured the archeologists had no idea what they were for either.) Outside were more hordes of schoolkids. Here they actually mobbed James, asking for his picture, all wanting to talk to him in English:


Then we went to Chomsongdae, the oldest existing astronomy observatory in Asia.


Then we went to the dums--which are just mounds of dirt in a nice park; we weren't allowed to take pictures of the excavated one, either. Then, after a nice dinner of rice, vegetables, and (I think) fish, we went home and collapsed.

Then there was the family reunion. The pictures of the people are probably only interesting if you're part of my family, and the yunori game was only throwings sticks; what I remember most visually is the fish market. Ah, the fish. Here is a tiny fraction of what I saw:







I also have pictures of seaweed and socks and toilet paper and chipmunks for sale, but I'm afraid Blogger is going to choke on this post as it is. However, proceeding:

These are the hands that cup the first Korean sunrise of every new year. Well, one of them. The other is on land surrounded by torches and posing tourists.





Here's Minyoung, my first cousin once removed, the one to whom I taught tic-tac-toe.
As I mentioned, my family was snacking on seaweed as we walked along the beach and took pictures and picked up geh (crabs).



I miss her a little. I miss all of them a little. I'm going to have to go back.

Credit

This job may work out okay. I spent my first day really doing the job today, and I did all right. Not great, but I think I'm getting the hang of it, and--importantly--the day went by in a flash. Now as long as I don't fall asleep at work tomorrow--my shift lasts until midnight and I've been getting sleepy around 10:30 since I got back from Korea--things should be okay.

We talked to the house sellers on Thursday. I found, to my surprise, that I enjoyed face-to-face negotiation so much more than the proxy-by-agent kind. Of course we didn't do much actual negotiation; their asking price was $137K, we named $131K in the paperwork, they read it and looked at each other and said "$133K" and we said okay. They're talking to their lawyer, but they want to close the deal--the only issue would be if someone else made a better offer, I think. So my fingers are still crossed.

In the meantime, Eric and I both got application packets from Wells-Fargo, where we got our phone preapproval. With mine came my credit score: 772. I'm exceedingly pleased with myself over this.

I also went to Target today to get Mother's Day and birthday cards for my mom, because I should have gotten them yesterday and mailed them today but forgot about even the existence of such things as cards. It's so nice to spend money and know that it will be replenished.

So things are going well. And now, off to see if I've pushed my luck saying that, as I'm going to be printing photos off my computer and we all know how little that relies on luck.

Good things

The new job is going to be...something. Interesting, boring, fun, dull, I'm not sure. The first week is training. My trainer is getting on my nerves with her dull jokes and strange facial expressions--I asked for an example of something and she complied, then squinched her face in a Joker-like smirk at me--but I think I'm learning how to do the job. This makes me uneasy as I'm not sure the job ought to be this easily learned. And then my schedule is going to be four nights--until midnight Tuesday and Wednesday, until nine Thursday and Friday--and they have not-very-good medical benefits. But they're benefits. And it's a job. We're working on buying a house, now that we can afford it--we called Monday to see if we could possibly get preapproval without my having worked more than, you know, eight hours, and they preapproved us over the phone. It was awesome. Behold the power of good credit.

Monday after I'd eaten my lunch I went to Meijer to buy a bottled water. I wandered around the aisles some since I had time and guess what I found? Apple Cinnamon Pop-Tarts! I haven't been in a Meijer in a long time, so I don't know when they came back, but they're here! Of course working nights I'll have time for real breakfasts in the mornings, but there's still Monday that I'll be getting up at seven. Apple Cinnamon Pop-Tarts! Things are looking up.

My Korean vacation. Or, the week my butt was constantly numb.

I got the job. I'd heard nothing from the company, and no voicemail or e-mail arrived while I was gone, but yesterday after Eric picked me up (after making me wait an extra half-hour at the airport so he could go home and change his clothes, mind) I got the mail and there was a letter, which I opened in dread; but it began "I am pleased to offer" so that was all right. I start Monday. I'm deeply, deeply thankful.

So, my Korean vacation. It was busy, it was fun, it was exhausting, I met oodles of relatives, I ate oodles of rice, I got food poisoning, I brought lots of stuff back. The first difference between our culture and theirs I noticed right away when my aunt brought us to her place the first night: they have no carpets, just heated laminate floors, and no couches. We ate breakfast (rice, vegetables, bean curd soup, and meat, just like every other meal I had while I was there) cross-legged on the floor around a fold-up wooden table. I brought back a smaller verson--a tray really--because I was so enamoured of these tables. However, sitting on the uncarpeted floor gave me some unusual aches and pains. I noticed my grandmother's ankles had thick calluses on them, presumably from a lifetime of doing this.

We went to a Korean folk village in the cold ("You'll need only a light coat or no coat," Mom had told me, but she had also told me to pack light, and she showed up with a gigantic suitcase and carryon) to see how Koreans used to live and to Gyongju, the ancient capital, to see how they died. Koreans bury their dead on hillsides--or at least they did. As we drove around the country we kept seeing little, perfect mounds, some marked with stones or lights and some plain, on the slopes by the freeways. They're dums--tombs, but there's no chamber inside unless you're a king. The king's dum, cut open for everyone to see, is in Gyongju.

The family reunion was last Saturday, and to prepare for it my uncle and my cousin and James and I went to the Pohang market for fish and meat and fruit. The fish portion of the market was unbelievable. If you could catch it in the Pacific, you could find it in that market. There were long silver fish and short dark fish and gigantic fish the size of men; there were tiny squid and huge wriggling octupi; there were flounder and rays and sharks; there were clams and oysters and sea urchins; there were sea cucumbers and strange pulpy things I couldn't identify. I saw a woman haggling about some fish while we were making our own purchases and noticed her bag was wriggling. In a moment she noticed it too and hit it until it stopped.

The last day, Tuesday, we went back to the market to see what else was there. The fish were still there, not as many as on Saturday but still plentiful; there were dozens of types of seaweed, flat and roasted or still salty from the ocean; there were doughnuts and roasted chestnuts and rice cakes to eat. The best way to convey the feel of the market would be through smell. There was also everything else at the market: clothing, blankets, children's toys, tables and trays, knockoff designer purses, knockoff clothing (James got a pair of Adipas pants), candy, spices, yarn, housewares, kitchen supplies, crockery, silk flowers, real flowers, fruit, socks, shoes, lingerie, T-shirts. I bought a couple of T-shirts with nonsense English on them. The salespeople there are more pushy than they are in the US. I also saw at least two legless men maneuvering the market on little wheeled platforms, shoes on their hands to help them get around.

At the reunion I met my English-speaking uncle and his two children and my dead uncle's wife and another lady whose connection to me I either don't remember or never learned. I had already met one aunt and her granddaughter/ward and another aunt and her three children, plus the children of the aunt I was staying with. I have yet another aunt, who has apparently disappeared as far as anyone can tell. I've never met her and, possibly, never will. But I had a good time talking (or at least eating with, as they only knew a few words of English and I a few words of Korean) with my family and watching my mom with them. At the end of the night it was decided that nineteen people in that place with one bathroom was probably inadvisable, so I and James and my uncle and three of our cousins went out to karaoke (we sang English, they mostly sang Korean) and to a hotel. The hotel was just like my aunt's house in that it had a heated smooth floor, a bed with thick puffy blankets and no sheets, and a bath with no shower curtain. The hotel provided shower slippers, shampoo, toothbrushes, and toothpaste, but no soap--though there was a place for it so it might have been an oversight.

The next day we all went to the beach, where there are two sculptures of hands, one sticking out from the surf and another standing a short way up the shore. The first sunrise of the new year appears cupped between these hands, apparently. Most of the family nibbled on seaweed--I'm not sure whether we bought it from a sidewalk vendor or just picked it up--which I passed on after the first piece. I'm afraid I'm really not as adventurous with food as I'd like to be, as the stuff I ate and liked there was mostly what I've eaten and liked before. After walking on the beach and taking pictures--I let two of my cousins use my camera and they had apparently never had such fun on a beach before--we went to a restaurant. Previously my aunt and uncle had taken us to this beach, but it had been raining torrentially so we just went off to eat at a sushi place where the fish were caught in the ocean right in front of the restaurant--low overhead, I figure. This time the family had cooked fish and I made myself eat part of an egg they ordered for me instead. My English-speaking uncle noticed I wasn't finishing it and bought ice cream for me. After lunch we toured my other uncle's steel-making company and eventually most of my relatives left.

Either the egg or the ice cream was most likely what gave me food poisoning the next day. It was unpleasant, especially as we were going out to do souvenir shopping and stopped at a place with a lot of interesting pottery and jewelry. Apparently Korean amethyst is the best in the world--at least that's what the sign said. When we got home my stomach was still hurting so my aunt gave me a homemade quince drink she said would help. The alcohol in it might have been what did it; but I felt better the next day, when we went to the market. Then we came home. I was ready to. I had a good time and I'm glad I went; but I'm thoroughly enjoying my carpet, my couch, my non-rice meals, my car, and my own determination of my schedule. And my new job.

Anxiety

Today I picked Shel up from school and we played a German game. It's a hexagonal board with room for six players. Each player gets five lettered dice of his or her chosen color. The players take turns throwing dice and the first person to get 'a' through 'e' ('e' is on two sides of the dice) collected on the board wins. It is a mind-numbingly boring game. But I was trying to entertain her (and forget about my annoyance about having to buy a ticket from Atlanta to Detroit for Monday because Eric's family is going down to visit his dying uncle and I'm going with because I sort of want to and Eric wants me to and his family will be unhappy with me if I don't) so I agreed to play. When she mentioned that she once played all six colors I leaped on that suggestion and we each took three colors, gave them names and personalities, and acted each character out on his or her turn. The game got a lot more fun after that; we played three or four rounds. Shel liked my hyperactive (Olive) and pathologically shy (Amethyst) personalities best. After I said I had to leave she wrote down a list of personalities she wanted to try next time.

Tonight I'm packing for the Atlanta trip, packing for the Korea trip, and quilting halmoni's quilt. I wish I had bought the high-loft batting instead of the extra-loft batting, as high-loft is actually loftier than extra-, and the quilting is actually pretty neat and I wish it showed up better. Alas. It looks nice on the back. I'm going to finish it up tonight and make binding and attach it, and in the van to Atlanta I'm going to attach the other side, finishing it, by hand. And then I'll lay it out somewhere where we're staying (I don't know where that is, whether with the family or at a hotel) and take pictures before I place it in my Korea luggage. I'm dreading the flying time, especially with the added trip from Atlanta, especially as I can't get it added to my itinerary so I have to disembark in Detroit, wait for my luggage to unload, and check in for Korea. I'm afraid they'll lose my luggage and won't be willing to send it to Korea. Maybe I'll rudely carry both pieces on and make the flight attendants gate-check it for me.

Tomorrow I'm also supposed to attend a meeting about a temp position with the city government. I don't want to go, but I did not get a job offer from the other place today, so I suppose I'd better. I hope they call tomorrow, or at the latest Friday. I would be so happy to know I had a job to come back to.

I also need to check with a company I ordered something from two weeks ago to see whether they actually sent it. It should have been here by now. Also M's present to me should have been here by now, based on when she sent it, so maybe the postman is just cutting me off, I don't know. I can't wait to move into a real place with a real mailbox--though apparently mailslots are more common around here than mailboxes.

On Sunday Eric and I decided to go to an open house for a nearby house Shel collected a flier from while out riding her bike. We went mostly for the walk and to indulge idle curiosity, but we love the house. We want the house. We can't get the house until I get a job or we get someone to cosign, and of course we can't do much about it, other than maybe schedule an inspector, until I get back from Korea. However, with the housing market where it is (awful, for sellers), that may not be a problem and might even help in bargaining down the price. If we do get the house, we may have to render Shel a realtor's fee. Certainly she did as much for us in bringing home that flier as my Toledo ex-realtor, now known as The Worst Realtor Ever, ever did.

And we have to do something about the wedding, like pick a day and a venue. We're probably going to end up at Wildwood Metropark. But I want to see what else is around, and we don't seem to be able to do that much--maybe now that the weather is warmer, we will. And then comes the trouble of menus and invitations and flowers and relatives who can't afford to come but won't accept my money for plane tickets (I imagine, anyway) and the impending fight about the rehearsal dinner. Eloping is sounding better and better. Or a boat wedding. Or something.

Anyhow, I have to eat something (I have to empty my fridge, I didn't think about that) and verify that I packed everything I need (like my passport and my itinerary, and at least three books) and quilt my heart out and read some more of Emma. I shall return in two weeks, laden with pictures and souvenirs and memories, and, I hope, a job and less anxiety.