I bought a new washer today. An old washer. But new. What?
I bought an almost new washer from this wench and her sweet husband.
I had to. My old washer was just one I got in a pinch, cheap and used, and it had never been quite the same since that dime got stuck down in the Important Working parts.
For the past couple months it has been leaking and making this noise that sounds a bit like the cement truck Bossy and I saw on the streets of Santa Monica going GROOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRR except the cement truck was in an alley we could walk away from and my washer is in the utility room.
So anyway, Craigslist.
I found a nice washer that was practically new for a good price. After a bunch of emails and phone calls, the people and I finally got together so I could check it out.
Suebob So why are you getting rid of it again? You said it was almost new.
Woman I just couldn't stand it.
Guy (rolls eyes)
Suebob What is wrong with it?
Woman Look! Look at this!
She goes over to where new washer is and opens the lid and the cabinet door above it.
Woman The old one opened on the side, so when the lid was open, I could NOT open the cabinet door at the same time. See how this one opens? I can have the cabinet door open at the same time. Much better.
I look at the guy. He looks at me.
Suebob So does the new one work better or hold more laundry?
Guy(softly) It's the same size and actually the old one works better.
Woman It does NOT work better if I can't open the lid and the cabinet at the same time!
Suebob So I'll take it then.
Wow. Wench got a new washer solely so she didn't have to shut the lid to open the cabinet. I gotta get me some of that kind of chutzpah.
12 April 2008
10 April 2008
Post-Bossy let down
I suppose I should write about my day with Bossy, but I feel I am experiencing post-Bossy depression.
What can I tell you?
1) You need to meet Bossy.
2) Yeah, gorgeous.
3) Nice, too.
4) Effortlessly gorgeous, as a marrafack. Bitch.
5) Within 20 minutes of meeting, we had found free Wifi and were blogging.
6) We almost forgot to eat lunch, but a somewhat-forgotten lunch date called, so we had to quit blogging to go meet her.
7) Within 3 hours, we visited both a Starbuck's AND a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, which was our second blogging location of the day.
8) Hanging out with other bloggers is cool because they don't say things like "Are you ever going to quit blogging and do something FUN?" As if.
9) All of my photos of Bossy are of Bossy taking photos.
She got a shot of us, though (keep scrolling til you get to the foot-high hair).
10) You might think the Bossy All-America Tour is about Bossy. But she has a secret plan. Do you want to know what it is? How much is it worth to you? A dollar? OKAY! Bossy is building blogging communities wherever she goes. She is kind of a Bossy Bloggerseed. She stops by, bloggers gather, connections are formed. So it isn't all about her. Yes, she is effortlessly gorgeous, nice, and altruistic, too.
11) Bitch.
No, I had a great time with Bossy. She is most certainly NOT a bitch, though looking at her lovely cheekbones, one kind of wishes she was, so one could hate her and her perfect bone structure properly. But no.
What can I tell you?
1) You need to meet Bossy.
2) Yeah, gorgeous.
3) Nice, too.
4) Effortlessly gorgeous, as a marrafack. Bitch.
5) Within 20 minutes of meeting, we had found free Wifi and were blogging.
6) We almost forgot to eat lunch, but a somewhat-forgotten lunch date called, so we had to quit blogging to go meet her.
7) Within 3 hours, we visited both a Starbuck's AND a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, which was our second blogging location of the day.
8) Hanging out with other bloggers is cool because they don't say things like "Are you ever going to quit blogging and do something FUN?" As if.
9) All of my photos of Bossy are of Bossy taking photos.
She got a shot of us, though (keep scrolling til you get to the foot-high hair).
10) You might think the Bossy All-America Tour is about Bossy. But she has a secret plan. Do you want to know what it is? How much is it worth to you? A dollar? OKAY! Bossy is building blogging communities wherever she goes. She is kind of a Bossy Bloggerseed. She stops by, bloggers gather, connections are formed. So it isn't all about her. Yes, she is effortlessly gorgeous, nice, and altruistic, too.
11) Bitch.
No, I had a great time with Bossy. She is most certainly NOT a bitch, though looking at her lovely cheekbones, one kind of wishes she was, so one could hate her and her perfect bone structure properly. But no.
09 April 2008
Say a little prayer for Doug
My cousin's son Doug Davis, a major-league pitcher for the Diamondbacks, is facing cancer surgery tomorrow. He pitched, and won, last night:
Davis, one of the most popular players on the team, obviously had the support of the fans and from his teammates, who mobbed him in the dugout and urged him back out on the field at the close of the top of the sixth to doff his cap and take a curtain call as the 28,973 in the house recognized the magnitude of the moment.
A prayer, a good thought, or whatever it is you do, would be appreciated.
08 April 2008
My Dad, 1919
Taking a bath in the sun. He said he was about 7 months old at the time - and he claims to remember this day. That's almost 90 years ago! What a cutie. Click on photo to make it bigger.
06 April 2008
No, as a matter of fact, you aren't
Every once in a while when I tell someone I am a writer, they tell me they are writers, too.
"I have a whole book in my head," they say. "Now all I have to do is put it on paper."
Honest. This has happened over and over.
I want to scream YOU ARE NOT A WRITER! Because the thing that separates writers from non-writers? Is that writers actually write. (I didn't say they write grammatically.)
You don't have to be good. You don't have to be prolific. You don't have to be published. But for goodness' sake, you have to write.
Having a book in your head and claiming that you are a writer is like having a Ben Serotta bicycle hanging in your garage and saying that you are a cyclist. No, you're not. You're a wannabe. Until you saddle up and ride, you're a poser. Until you put words on paper or pixel...well, shut up.
When I started reading at poetry readings, my friend Ray Clark Dickson taught me to say "I am a writer," and to say it proudly because I did, indeed, put words on paper and share them with other people.
At the time I was working in the graphics department of a large print shop, turning words and clip art into ugly newsletters and business cards. I was not among the more talented "graphic artists" in our department. I was not even among the more talented of the less talented designers in our department (I was, however, very fast. This kept me employed for 14 years).
Because of Ray's constant praise and nagging, I kept saying "I am a writer," though. It took a few years, but now people pay me to do it full-time. In my case, the belief came after the work and before the success. Crazy how it all worked out.
"I have a whole book in my head," they say. "Now all I have to do is put it on paper."
Honest. This has happened over and over.
I want to scream YOU ARE NOT A WRITER! Because the thing that separates writers from non-writers? Is that writers actually write. (I didn't say they write grammatically.)
You don't have to be good. You don't have to be prolific. You don't have to be published. But for goodness' sake, you have to write.
Having a book in your head and claiming that you are a writer is like having a Ben Serotta bicycle hanging in your garage and saying that you are a cyclist. No, you're not. You're a wannabe. Until you saddle up and ride, you're a poser. Until you put words on paper or pixel...well, shut up.
When I started reading at poetry readings, my friend Ray Clark Dickson taught me to say "I am a writer," and to say it proudly because I did, indeed, put words on paper and share them with other people.
At the time I was working in the graphics department of a large print shop, turning words and clip art into ugly newsletters and business cards. I was not among the more talented "graphic artists" in our department. I was not even among the more talented of the less talented designers in our department (I was, however, very fast. This kept me employed for 14 years).
Because of Ray's constant praise and nagging, I kept saying "I am a writer," though. It took a few years, but now people pay me to do it full-time. In my case, the belief came after the work and before the success. Crazy how it all worked out.
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