If you're bored during my week off, entertain yourself with old entries. August 3 marks the two year anniversary of this blog.

And this is what Jen had to say about the neighbor woes I posted yesterday: i remember when we first moved in, someone called the county police because they didn't like the fact that we kept our sailboat beside the house. at least becca's neighbors talk to her first.


Off to Canada

I will be away from phones and computers for the next week as I take off to my Dad's cottage in Canada. I did the "count" last night, and there will be at least 23 people there at the height of the week. (That's Dad+Rini+kids+nanny; Nick & Kera; Aunt Mary+kids+kids' friends; Aunt Julie+kids; Aunt Nancy+kids+kids' friends, if you're keeping count). Wow! And I'm not even going to talk about the nanny situation.

Anyone taking bets on how long before I take a tent and move to the island? (go to here, its a picture of Nick and Kera, but you can see the island in the background).

Beer for my horses

I guiltily listen to country music occasionally. Maybe its out of morbid curiousity. Maybe its out of some attempt to understand Texas a little better. One song that has been playing on the radio constantly is "Beer for my Horses." Yes. That is actually the name of a song and the words are repeated multiple times in the refrain. I can only imagine what listening to this song repeatedly is doing to my delicate psyche. I need to get out of this place!

Eventfulness

Yesterday was a fairly eventful day in the unexciting grind that is my job. First, I was reading Georgy's journal (which I do occasionally since she discovered her long lost twin brother and I decided that her own personal soap opera was probably worthy of eventual inclusion in the pseudo-fictional novel inspired by crazy families that I am writing).

Anyway, she actually re-discovered Alex. For those of you who need a refresher course, he's Maayan's ex-boyfriend. I never really got along with him (political and personality and ego conflicts), but eventually we came to be friendly with each other out of the circumstance of sharing a best friend, and in the long run I even grew fond of him. I haven't heard from him since freshman year (except for an engagement party invite) when I stayed at his fraternity house during a visit to Boston. I'll never forget how scandalized I was when I woke up in the morning to someone in the house fighting with his girlfriend and her pouring a box of condoms down from the third floor railing into the lobby. That was funny.

So, we exchanged a few e-mails and now are officially caught up for another couple years or so.

New neighbors

And then, Katie and Fred cooked dinner and invited me over. Yeh! Other people feeding me! Its so nice. I love their new house, and its only minutes down the street from me (a long walk, short bike/car ride). Its nice to have new, FRIENDLY, neighbors.

Dixie has a new family. She's getting picked up on Friday!!

The lull

There was absolutely no wind last night. At all. We sat and sat and sat and sat as they postponed and postponed and postponed the race. People got so hot and bored that they actually went swimming in Clear Lake. When that wasn't entertaining enough, there were "Argggg"-pirate sounds and they started capsizing each other's boats. Lots of beer was being drunk. And finally the wind picked up after 1+ hours of postponing. We raced, lost (though actually not as bad as we had been, so it was an improvement), and made it back to the dock by sunset.

I got to tell Sarah's favorite pirate joke. Have you heard about the new pirate movie? Its rated Arrg.

I guess its better in person.

Cari was Little-Suzy-Homemaker, and Fred & Katie (hi Katie!) and dinner were waiting for me when I got home. Yum!

Mean old neighbors

On Tuesday night there was a message on my answering machine. It was a woman. Southern accent.

Hi, this is your neighbor. Its 10 p.m. now. I'm calling to tell you your dogs have been barking constantly from 6 or 6:45 until now. Its becoming a real annoyance. We've talked to you before about this, you have to do something.

At first, I felt a pang of guilt. They had mentioned that when we first moved in that the dogs were barking in the morning and we put a stop to that by not putting them outside until right before we leave for work, rather than right when we woke up as we had been doing.

But, then, came the pain of rightious indignation (plus I had the memory of what is was like when I used to have neighbors that didn't take issue with the way I lived my life) - I realized that I had the dogs in the house from when I got home at 5:30 until when I left for volleyball at 8:30 p.m., so the dogs couldn't have been barking during the time period my neighbor suggested (or at least the entire time period).

Now, I was faced with the problem what to say to them. My "neighbor" in her pleasant message, did not actually leave her name with her threatening message. Thankfully I had caller ID.

I stewed on what to say for a little while. Called back and apologized if my dogs had been disturbing her and told her that the dogs would be kept in after 7 p.m. every night in the future. And, in what Sarah said was a "pleasantly threatening" voice, informed her that she may have been hearing another dog since mine weren't out the whole time she heard barking, and regardless, if she hears a dog after 7 p.m. in the future, it won't be mine.

Obviously, I am learning how to communicate with my neighbors in South-Shore-Village-Voice. That is, I sound all neighborly and friendly, but lace my comments with veiled threats of imminent action of the homeowners association, police, and imminent forclosure. Yep. What a wonderful world we live in. Makes me want to move onto a ranch far away from civilization. Or makes me long for neighbors like Keith & Anne and Richard up at the cottage.

And, in an effort of further vindication, Cari tells me she was woken up this morning from 7 a.m. to 7:20 a.m. by a barking dog that was DEFINITELY not ours, since all ours were still sound asleep.

Well, that was a nice little hiatus from entries. But the wolves are at the door, hounding me for stories about my life.

The exciting news is that someone is coming to visit (and hopefully adopt) Dixie tonight!

I had an uneventful weekend. I read two books, which was nice, because my reading rate had slowed quite a bit in the last few weeks. Unfortunately, neither were particularly exceptional - chalk it up to one more failure of Oprah's book of the month club.

I also saw Pirates of the Caribbean, which, believe it or not, I really enjoyed. I totally WANT Orlando Bloom. He's just as cute as a pirate as he is as an elf. And Johnny Depp cracked me up. My favorite quotes:

"You like pain? Try wearing a corset!"

Will Turner: We're going to steal that ship?
Jack Sparrow: Commandeer! We're going to commandeer that ship. Nautical term.

On Sunday night, I did a bunch of yard work. I was outside from 5 p.m. until 9 p.m. and I got a sunburn! Stupid Houston.

I want to be overpaid and with enough disposable income to buy myself a motorcycle.

From Matt(who's girlfriend is currently residing in Germany): Stephanie sent this article to me this morning, and it sure was a fine way to start off the day :) It just confirms that Germans are the creepiest people on Earth.

I am having an anti-dog morning. At 6:30 the wrestling started (having 3 dogs in a bedroom means whenever one wakes up, they *must* wake up the other two, rather than just yawning and going back to sleep). Finally I got them to calm down and went back to sleep for another 30 minutes. When I finally woke up, they wouldn't go outside, even though I KNOW they always need to go first thing in the morning. So, I hopped in the shower, leaving them out and about in the house. Now, I do this with just Bennet or just Apache almost every morning while the other two are outside, and there hasn't been a problem. Apparently leaving all three to their own devices is a bad idea. When I came out, one had pee-ed on the floor (stupid dog!) and all three had shredded one of Kennda's couch cushions (they've been on a cushion destroying spree this week, though they've mainly stuck to their own doggy beds, so it hasn't been that costly). Anyway. Now I will figure out how to sew Kennda's couch back together.

The boat is out to get me

I have more war wounds than usual after last night's regatta. The boat was out to get me. Actually, it wasn't the whole boat. Just the keel. I banged one spot on my right leg no less than three times, resulting in a fairly good size bump that has faded to a dull aching black and blue mark. And to top that off, we finished dead last for the third week in a row. This is kind of frustrating after weeks of actually winning races. But I just keep reminding myself, its more fun to be out sailing and losing than sitting home watching t.v. or working late.

When in Russia...

Russian class was kind of entertaining today, even though the entire class was in English and not a single word was added to my teeny-tiny Russing vocabularly. We spent most of the time talking about the differences between Russian and American culture. I found out Tequila may be an appropriate gift for a dinner party in Russia, along with a lie, such as "I wanted to give this to you because this liquor is very special to me, because I got drunk for the first time when I was 16 with Tequila..." And then we talked about how to bribe police officers.

According to my Russian instructor: In America, the law is an umbrella, if you stay under it, you won't get wet. But in Russia, a law is a stick that they use to hit you when they want to get something from you.

Yesterday

Sorry I didn't write you yesterday. I was having a boring day. I actually did a lot of daydreaming about Switzerland, which is something that I hadn't done for a long time. I realized the other day that I moved there over two years ago now. Two years! And, finally I am starting to miss it, starting to mentally picture myself living there again. This is a very weird feeling to me, because I also remember how happy I was to come home, how good it feels not to be living there, but that kind of all fades away.

I arrived there the day before Canada Day, and my soon-to-be-Crazy Canadian friends hosted a party. They hung paper red maple leaves from trees for decoration. There was a garbage bag full of cans of Molsen Beer and Labatt's (how they found Canadian beer in Switzerland, I'll never know) into the River to keep it cold. I was so drugged out from pain killers (stupid cliff diving) and the jet lag plus the beer, it was all kind of a blur.

Ah, switzeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeland.

It looks like a storm happened outside. But, it seems I must've slept through most of it. So, everything is safe and sound here, despite Claudette churning away 100+ miles to the south. Its just a little dreary.

Because I have nothing to say today, try going to www.google.com, and search "French military victories" and click "I'm feeling lucky" and see what you get...

The boat floats!

This is one more small victory for the novice sailor. It only took us two hours to rig, because we had to take the mast down three times. It was very hot, but I somehow managed to emerge from the experience sunburn free.

Tropical Storm Claudette is enroute for us. Or at least the northern end carrying the rain and wind and muck. I am not worried. Well, ok, I am a little worried. Hopefully my house will survive the beating.

The boat fit! Details here.

I'm not surprised, really. Or maybe I am. I know the ruler doesn't lie. But still, it was close! Or maybe I'm surprised that it didn't take us a week to figure out how to do it. Or maybe I'm just relieved.

My neighbors are weird. The boat was in the driveway for exactly one day, and no less than THREE different neighbors drifted by to "casually" ask what the deal with the boat was, and was I going to keep it in the driveway, and did I know how the homeowners association felt about such misbehavior. Of course, all of this was dripping with sweetness in an attempt to be neighborly - not to mention, I know they live in as much fear of the Association as I do.

I am entertaining myself imagining what my neighbors who didn't come talk to me thought about it, as they stared curiously out their car windows while driving by.

I imagine, they said to their husband or wife over dinner "Honey, that single girl at the end of the street has a boat in her driveway." Response, "That's nice, dear. Maybe I should go over an offer to help her move it." And the ones that saw it AFTER its triumphant push into the garage, said "Honey, can you believe she actually got it in the garage? I am so glad for her, I'd hate to have to report it to the Homeowners Association." Response, "Hmm. Maybe we should get a boat."

Tropical Storm Claudette is going to hit my house.

Airlines should not schedule flights at 6:30 a.m., that way I wouldn't have had to drive Cari to the airport at 5 a.m. today.

If you need some amusement, try this (hopefully it still works):

1) Go to www.google.com
2) Type in (but don't hit return): "weapons of mass destruction"
3) Hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button, instead of the normal "Google search" button.
4) Read what appears to be a normal error message.

If it doesn't work, you can read the error message here.

Everything floats except my boat

Sailing last night went well. At least my skipper's shiny new red boat didn't fall apart before the starting line like it did last week. Unfortunately, we were a little off and lost pretty badly. Oh well.

In my own boat's comedy of errors, it is now sitting in my driveway, happy and looking sharp (at least if you don't look too closely). But, after measuring, remeasuring, and measuring again all the dimensions of the boat, I failed to noticed that the part of the trailer that sticks up to cradle the mast is exactly 1/2 an inch too tall to fit through my garage door. Stupid Texas garages. Whoever said everything is bigger in Texas obviously hasn't seen our houses. My house in Philadelphia has a two-car garage, too, and THAT garage is easily two times the size of my two-car garage. Cari's small pickup truck (well, small for Texas) barely fits into the garage. If she had even a slightly longer bed, there would be no way. I swear, a normal size SUV wouldn't even clear my garage door. Its like my house was designed for midgets driving European cars.

Anyway, back to the boat. The mast cradle appears bolted on, so hopefully I can remove just that part which will cut the height by about 2 inches more than the required 1/2 inch. Unfortunately, the bolts are so old that they are no longer squared, but they are rounded, and I can't get a socket on them. Suggestions would be appreciated.

If my life were a movie, I think it would be "101 Dalmations", though I'd much rather prefer it to be "Top Gun" or "Casablana" or even "Star Trek"...

Last night one of the puppies (Huckleberry, now Hunter) was returned to us because it looked too much like a pit bull. In the woman's words "My neighbors all told me it was a definite pit and it may be cute now, but it would grow up to attack children and other dogs, and I can't have that." Instead, she, with her 8 year old son who was obviously in love with this dog and about to burst into tears, returned him to me.

Now, my rant on pit bulls. One, here is what a pit bull looks like and in case you can't remember, here is what Dixie looks like. Notice her snout is longer, and her ears are floppy, definitely not a pure-bred pit, though she might have some in her; the pups would have even LESS because given the appearance of the other puppies, Dad was definitely not a pit bull. Even airlines and other places that have rules against pit bulls wouldn't be able to kick her out, because she is obviously not a pure-bred, she would most definitely qualify as "mixed". Second of all, pit bulls (and other so-called "agressive" dogs) have gotten a bad wrap. Yes, they are easier to train than other dogs to attack. But its all about how they are raised. Dixie, for instance, wouldn't hurt a fly on a human's head and I would trust her completely around an infant, but, I'm not sure if she should be left unsupervised with other dogs. Pits, like Rottweilers, Doberman's, Chows, and German Shepards can also be kind, loving, loyal family pets if they are socialized, introduced to other dogs and children both familar and strangers, and taught how to behave around them. Conversely, a popular breed, like a lab, can be taught to be vicious, mean and attack humans if it is not socialized properly. I wonder what would happen if people had the same attitude about children as they did about dogs -- hm, that 5-year-old's parents are criminals, that must mean we should put him "to sleep" now before he acts out. Yeah. Great attitude.

Rant over.

The boat excitement has been put on hold until today. More details later.

A working air conditioner is a wonderful thing.

In spookiness, I also found out today that Time Warner employees have been entering my backyard during the day without giving me the notice required. Sure, it was for a good cause (the cable modem of one of my co-workers that is routed through the unit in my backyard). But, heck, I've got three rowdy dogs back there right now, and I've heard stories about Time Warner using tranquilizers on people's pets... Not acceptable. So, time for a padlock on the gate. I have never lived somewhere so unneighbourly as Houston. 6 foot privacy fences required. Regular nasty letters from the whacked-out homeowners' associations. Not to mention crazed gunmen and bizarre stabbings. Yep. Suburban bliss.

In ridiculous news, I am apparently going to subject myself to an interview in order to have the pleasure of keeping Bennet for the next year (Bennet is Cari's border collie; Cari is moving to France; the interviewer is the owner/breeder of Bennet's Mom). I guess its ok to be concerned. Now, I'm amusing myself wondering about the consequences of failing the interview. After all, I am not exactly mother-of-the year (thank god I still have a life!). As Cari said, "... she just wants to make sure that Becca's not going to leave him out in the rain. Oh wait, we do that already."

I figure after I fail, they'll paint a big red "X" on my door to indicate that no pure-bred will ever be allowed to cross the threshhold. Of course, I am going to tolerate this all, because I'd really like to keep Bennet next year, 'cause he's a good dog, I'm kind of attached to him, and he makes a good playmate for Apache without me having to make a lifetime commitment. Though sometimes I could live without those beedy border collie eyes attempting to stare me down (very different from Apache's quasi-vacant retriever eyes).

Tonight: The Amusement of Attempting to Fit Our New Boat in the Garage. Stay Tuned.

Home ownership is a wonderful thing. I am sitting here, watching t.v. and staring at the wall, waiting for the A/C repairman to come. That's right. Its July. Its Houston. Just look at my little weather-slut (um, pixie, yeah..) in the bottom left hand corner of your screen and see that its so warm she's wearing a bikini to work. And, yesterday, the A/C couldn't get the house-temperature below 86. So, not only am I late for work, missing Russian class, but I'm also going to probably have to pay for the priveldge of what I'm doing right now.

Otherwise the weekend was pretty good: Friday I did nothing except watch The Patriot, read, work on my scrapbook (yes, my Europe scrapbook is now finished, a timely two years later), and see the fireworks. Saturday was another day of nothing similar to Friday. And finally, yesterday, I mowed the lawn (with Cari's help) and attempted to bore as hole in the mess that is the garage in order to keep our new sailboat. Hopefully I made enough room. If not, things will get interesting when we bring it home on Tuesday night.

And my grumble for today is Rice. After 8 a.m. classes being the bane of my existence in college, I only wish Rice would offer one. That way I could take two classes next semester. Rather than one. Which is what its looking like. Sigh. There's always a tradeoff between actually finishing my degree in a reasonable period of time and being absent from normal working hours.

Sailing was a little exciting last night. Well, actually, not so much sailing went on. My skipper got a new boat, the same type as his old one, just, well, shiny and red. So, we had gotten out a pretty significant way from the dock, and one of the stays (the metal wires which hold the mast in place) snapped. This basically tore the mast out of the deck, tore down the other stays (one of which holds the second sail up) and everything goes splashing into the water.

I'm very proud of myself for staying cool enough to immediately grab the mast out of the water before it sunk (or worse, got lodged in the grimy mud that is the bottom of Clear Lake). Actually, when the mast went over into the water, I was pretty certain we'd be taking a swim, but as it turns out, everything worked out for the best. Then we proceeded to de-rig the entire boat, on the water, taking all the sails off, pulling the lines out, securing the now lying flat mast. Then I started rowing while the skipper steered us back to the dock. Luckily I didn't have to row too far cause someone came by and towed us back to the dock.

I now feel more than a bit confident about how to handle small disasters on the water. Too bad we didn't race.

So, Richard (my skipper) and I went over to the Clear Lake Beach Club, which has a dock right where the races start and finish, and they are all decked out, they even have a guy who is an "announcer" and he has a running stream of commentary on all the boats. So, Richard pulled into a parking spot, towing his boat behind him, and managed to scrape a pick up truck. As he was starting to right a note, I saw the bouncer go inside. Obviously, the guy he hit was enough of a regular that the bouncer recognized his car. Anyway, this huge guy in a wife-beater comes out, obviously drunk (after all, he is a regular at a bar that is pretty sketchy every other night except race night), and belligerant yelling "My truck, my truck!" with a very slurred voice. Anyway, eventually everything got settled with a $100 cash by Richard to the drunk-truck-regular guy to fix the scratches.

The night ended more calmly, watching the races, it was very educational, because I had more time to get briefed on some common tactics that were being used (usually, while we're racing, we don't have time to talk about stuff like that).

Thank goodness its Thursday...

This has been one of the most unproductive days ever. This morning, I had Russian (no, no one needs to worry, I am taking it for my own personal development, not because I'm making some sort of last-minute trip to the other side of the Iron Curtain). Then, we stood out in the heat with a few hundred other NASA employees spelling the word "NASA" in red, white and blue in the grass so an overflying helicopter could take our pictures. THEN, lunch.

Then, a fairly long discussion on trailer hitches. Feel free to chime in with your thoughts on towing a 600 pound sail boat on a several hundred pound trailer with a sedan with a listed towing capacity of 1,000 pounds and a dealer response of "we don't recommend you tow with your car." Anyway, we bought the boat, so we'll have to get it around somehow!

Now, life continues...

I'm a boring person now.

I want to move to New Zealand, in a rural town on the side of a mountain, by a lake, within a reasonable drive of civilization. And open a used bookstore. And read all day, and occasionally hike up the mountain mountain or ski down it or swim and sail on the lake. And write the greatest novel ever.

I bet y'all would read my journal more often then!