When the Internet is too magical

So I have a Google blog alert set to let me know when my name shows up somewhere, on some blog.

When I had multiple bylines a week at a newspaper, the hits often actually referred to me. Now, they virtually never do. My name is the same as the maiden name of a certain former first lady, and is also the same as a kind-of-famous actress who is married to a somewhat famouser actor, so usually, when there are hits, it's a reference to one of them.

Today, there was a hit that was neither of them, but it's not me, either.

Most of this is by way of saying, in case any of you sketchballs have Google alerts set to my name, too, you should not come to my house for the New Year's party she is apparently inviting the whole wide world to, because it is not my party. Go find her house.

Also, one eerie coincidence: A few years ago, I had a(n unfounded) health scare, and a very wonderful friend gave me a greeting card that said, "Everything will be okay [sic] in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end." It was exactly what I needed at the time, and I thought it was wonderful, and I say it all the damn time. Now, I am aware that greeting cards are mass produced, but I was nonetheless surprised to find it as the entire content of this other me's Dec. 26 post. Still, it's not me. Promise.

Update: Another me is apparently in some way involved in something called the Flourish Festival. Again, I know it sounds like something I'd do, but it's still not me.

Things that would not happen in Washington (but would happen in a movie), holiday edition

There was, as usual, lots of church on and around Christmas this year. Lovely music, beautiful decorations, good cheer, special sweaters, some excellent sermons. You can get that stuff anywhere (although there may be a higher percentage of special-sweater-wearers in the rural spots than the urban ones; there's no way of knowing).

But the highlight of Christmas Eve church for me was a live four-week-old lamb, borrowed from a local farm, carried up the aisle by an only slightly struggling young (7 years old? 8?) shepherd. Both shepherd and sheep gave admirable performances, the latter bleating only as much as was totally adorable.

Missing links

So I finally got around to listing some other blogs (see there, on the right side of the page?). Those ones mostly belong to my friends, with one notable exception. Many of my friends write very well, and you should go look at their blogs and share them with all your friends.

If you feel that your blog belongs there, pitch me in an e-mail.

If you are mortified that your blog is there, say so and I'll remove it immediately. Probably.

Ups and downs

I feel like I've already told this to everyone I know, but those of you I have told have been so amused (and thanks, supportive friends), I felt I should share with the rest of you.
I have a fully unnecessary two-car garage.
The door to the bay that does not have my car behind it is stuck up.
The door to the bay that does have my car behind it is stuck down.
Once again, I am walking to work.

The good news: Though I can't say I didn't think of it, I have not yet tried to wriggle my 1990 Oldsmobile around the garage to get it out of the door, because I know as well as you do that if I tried, I would get it wedged in and have to take the garage down to get it out. High school buddy who writes for TV, when you're done striking, you may have that plot.

More good news: Though I can't say this was true this morning, as of right now, the car does start. And at least one door opens, so I don't have to die of carbon monoxide poisoning to find that out.

Frozen tears in your eyes

In light of my recent adventures, and also the fact that my sunroom roof is leaking because the snow is melting into it, I had reason to go looking at the Web sites of a couple of local establishments for snow removal equipment.

Aubuchon, which is a New England chain, had exactly what I was looking for, which was a roof rake.

But Home Depot had some of the best writing I've seen lately. Go here and read the two-star customer review by anonymous from Cleveland.

Update: For some reason, practically everyone in town is out of roof rakes. I called easily a half-dozen stores that could be reasonably expected to have them, including the two stores mentioned above. Everyone told me they'd be getting more on Thursday. If you're in the area and looking for one, though, Achille Agway has plenty, and I am totally comfortable telling you so because I already bought mine.

Stupid, stupid

I had a wonderful text from a D.C.-area reader at 6:57 a.m. Friday:
"Are you still giddy over the snow? I saw [my town here] on the weather channel this morning."

Sigh.

Yes, I am still giddy.
And stupid.

And yesterday, we had a big storm come through, and I did just what I should have done, and I got out early to shovel, during the storm. Better if you do it in stages, you know.

You know what's not better? If you overdo it, in stages or otherwise.

And so, today, I called in stupid to work for the first time in my life, and have spent the day trying to find a comfortable position to lie around and moan in.

Worst part: The driveway's still not done. No one can get in or out of it. My wonderful parents stopped by to bring me ibuprofen and an ice pack, and they had to essentially do a drive-by to give it to me.

Best part: While I was lying around moaning, I saw a pair of cardinals, a male and a female, and they were so awesome it was almost worth being in pain to be home and see them. When did I turn into such a sap?

Things that would not happen in Washington (but would happen in a movie)

I had the opportunity to go to a wonderful reception yesterday afternoon for (and in) the local center for Holocaust studies. The company was good, the food was excellent, the mood was festive. Just lovely.
The very first thing on the buffet table?
Scallops wrapped in bacon.
No, seriously.

It doesn't rain but it snows

There's more snow today. I am not quite as giddy as I was the first few times, but I am not yet sick of it, either.


If anyone has any familiarity with electrical relay systems, let me know. The one in my house seems to be stuck, so any lights I had on Saturday afternoon are still on, and any that were off are still off, and I have no ability to change it.

Life possibly complete

I found Thai peanut sauce in the grocery store. Finally.

Tube untied

So I've gotten very philosophical and serene since I've been up here, and there are lots of reasons for that. It is easy for me to overestimate the value of being Away From The City, which probably matters. But there are other things that also matter: leaving behind some stuff in that city that is not city-specific, getting settled into a job and not sitting around unemployed, meeting (or reconnecting with) some wonderful people up here, yadda yadda yadda.

But it would be too bad not to talk about the effect of not having TV.

I still have my TV; it looms monstrous in what I am alternately calling the Media Center and the Family Room, but which is really just a smallish spare bedroom with my giant TV. But I moved up here and got myself a mortgage and started thinking about what expenses I could cut to pay down my principal (that is really how I think now). And I decided I could do without the giant bill I had every month for TV, including my DVR. I do love the DVR. And I looooooooved having access to so much television through it.

But I've been without for coming up on a month, and the only two shows I miss at all, as it turns out, are The Office and 30 Rock, both of which can be viewed for free on the NBC web site. When I get a specific jones for trashy nothingness, I have DVDs, of many things, including but not limited to 80s private-detective classics Riptide and Simon & Simon. But I don't waste my life on them. Any more.

And I really think not having all that racket in the back of my mind has helped me, a lot. So we'll see. I'm not swearing off forever, but maybe through the end of the year. And maybe longer. But Lost is returning soon, isn't it?

Running mates

Today, I was lucky enough to hear Michelle Obama speak. She is sensational; I do not yet know who I am voting for for president, but I would go listen to Michelle Obama speak about anything.

Yesterday, I was lucky enough to hear Bill Clinton speak. I've heard him before, but, man, he knows how to get a room going.

Neither of these people are actually running for office themselves, as far as Mike Livingston or I knows, which is interesting in itself, but also linguistically. If I am going to go around listening to the spouses of presidential candidates, I need a better expression than, "the spouses of presidential candidates."

I feel like, for right now, I'm going with "first person hopeful."

Like that?

Dress code

I alluded to this in my initial post, and some of my readers have already heard more about this than they might prefer, but here it is: I am having a REALLY hard time dressing for work here.

I was never the most stylish gal in the room in Washington, but my clothes were fine. I had a couple of pairs of decent-to-cute shoes, and I had a range of clothes that covered me for most of the circumstances I was likely to encounter.

I brought those same clothes up north, and suddenly, I have nothing to wear.

Pretty much anything I would have worn to a day at work there looks ridiculously overdressed. And dark. And kind of boring.

And my shoes? Just seem silly. Like, insane.

It's not quite that people here are very casual; I would look out-of-place if I wore jeans, too (although I did, the day of The Big Snow, and felt OK about it). There's just a lot of LL Bean influence, or something. My customary work wardrobe is best suited to actually sitting at a desk, maybe meeting with someone, and possibly going out for happy hour. These people all look like they could do something other than sit at a desk or go to a bar in their clothes. They could go for a walk, or stand around outside waiting in line to hear a presidential candidate speak. They look useful.

Add to all that that it is not just an issue of style, but one of warmth. I somehow survived in D.C. with essentially no warm clothes. Did I not need them? I know it does get cold there. I think I used to wear skirts in the winter without heavy tights. Is that possible?

I tried to go out to TJ Maxx the other night and see if I could find some frumpier clothes and shoes, so I don't feel like such an idiot, but you know what? That is a bad attitude to have while shopping: "Let's see if I can find some frumpier clothes and shoes, so I don't feel like such an idiot." That does not lead to good clothes purchases. And the other folks around here aren't frumpy; they're just more practical in their clothing choices than I am, and their wardrobes aren't quite so, er, black and brown. I did wind up with one nice pair of pants, but I am pretty sure I cannot wear them every day.

Right?

Contra indicated

I went contra dancing last night with some friends who go regularly. I have been once or twice before, but it was twenty years ago, so I am very, very new to this.
But boy, howdy, will I go back.

For those who are unfamiliar with the contra dancing, it's not unlike square dancing, except without squares, and each dance is a big repeating pattern of steps, so you have a chance to almost catch on before it's over. There is also a lot more spinning, and therefore more dizziness, usually but not always in the way that is still fun.

For more, see here, because, in the words of the great Michael Scott, "Wikipedia is the best thing ever. Anyone in the world can write anything they want about any subject, so you know you are getting the best possible information."

Advice for new dancers, from an also new dancer:
-Bring water. A lot of it.

Things I do and do not have

Things I have that equip me for a northern winter:

• An outstanding striped hat
• A knowledge of, and instinct that supports, the "turn into the skid" principle
• A scraper I can easily lay my hands on
• A garage
• Two bags of ice melt
• Good boots
• A commute that can be walked
• A fireplace
• Oatmeal
• Very expensive jumper cables

Things I do not have, that, if I did, would equip me better for a northern winter:

• A snow shovel Update: Acquired!
• A contract with anyone to plow the driveway Update: Acquired! Update: Apparently lost!
  
• Snow tires
• Cable TV
• A furnace that operates at better than 81 percent efficiency
• A door mat Update: Acquired!
• Hot chocolate Update: Acquired!
• Update: Four-wheel drive
• Update: All-wheel drive
• Update: A working flashlight Update: Had it all along, as it turns out
  

I will, I feel sure, have reason to expand on both these lists in the future.

Healthy work ethic

At 4:47 p.m., my boss, on her way out the door, observed me and one of my colleagues at our desks.
"Burning the midnight oil?" she asked.
I love it here.

Doubly dark

Sorry for the long spell between postings. Rest assured, this will be insanely long. See, it's not that I haven't been thinking about blogging, it's just that I haven't been blogging.

I had forgotten how much difference a few hundred miles can make. At 4:30, it's so dark here I can't read a book in my sunroom without extra light, and my sunroom still needs a lamp in it. In fact, it's pretty much pitch black. In fact, even with the glow from my screen, I can't really see to type. Time to go buy some more lamps, clearly. My neighbors, whose house I can see out the sunroom windows, have the Christmas lights up, and they are very pretty. But they are not giving me a lot of light.

People told me, when they heard I was coming up here, that it would be a lot cheaper. I thought it would be cheaper to buy a house, that kind of thing, but I did not expect other things to be a lot cheaper. I mean, aren't some prices just fixed, no matter where you are?
Here's what's cheaper:

• Practically everything, because there's no sales tax here.

And also:

• Food. I know, I should get in the habit of bringing my lunch, but I have not yet. So I buy lunch close by. In the student center, a sandwich, pickle, and side of chips or potato salad or an apple costs $3.25. If I feel like going to the dining commons, it's all I can eat for $5.95.
• Beer. Yeah, you have to shop the specials, but my local bar has a lot of them. A pint of whatever I drink is 50¢ from 8-8:30 on Tuesday nights, with prices going up 25¢ every half-hour from then on. Since I am both old and boring, that means I am generally getting about two pints for about $1.50 or less.
• Liquor. Maybe. Just like in Virginia, you can only buy liquor here from state-run liquor stores. But up here, they have, over years, developed a reputation for being much cheaper than the commercial liquor stores in other states, often with better selection. I don't buy enough liquor to know how much I'm saving, but maybe it's a lot. Or maybe it's an excellent long-term marketing strategy, with little basis in fact.
• Entertainment. There are political candidates, and pseudo-candidates, of course. They're pretty thick on the ground and also free. But there is also Monday night contra dancing, which, I'm told, is super-fun. And people drop by all the time, especially if by "people" you mean my parents, and by "drop by" you mean come over to tell me I need curtains. That is also free, and sometimes comes with dinner or firewood. People who are not my parents also sometimes drop by with no mention of curtains. But they rarely give me food or firewood.

In other news, my city-based sister is getting married in May, which is very, very soon. Her own little city-mouse-country moment seems to be the observation that everything about a wedding is easier to accomplish up here than in her city, so this is where she's getting married, and if she also has to drive two hours each way to find a ring and a dress and so forth, that's just what she'll do.

I saw a hawk this morning. It's been hanging around campus, eating squirrels, apparently, but I hadn't seen it until this morning, when it perched on the roof across from my office window. Cool. My old apartment complex should get some hawks to eat all the squirrels.

Cold enough fah yah?

I promise, I won't only talk about the weather for the rest of my life.
But today, I will, a little.
I woke up this morning in my bedroom, blinds down. Took a shower in my windowless bathroom. Got dressed in my bedroom, blinds still down, naturally.
And then I went to the kitchen to make myself some chai and oatmeal for breakfast, and I looked out at my back deck from the window over the kitchen sink.
And there was snow.
Not snow like the few little pelting iceballs of my walk to lunch the other day, which made their presence felt but did not amount to anything.
And not giant flakes that stay on your nose and eyelashes, but still, real, White-Christmas-type snow. Real snow that was already sticking to the ground pretty good at 7:30 this morning.
Now, there are some complications with all that for me: My car is broken, so I am walking a mile or two to work, and I do not own snow boots, as I have not really needed them for about 8 years.
But I was smiley, grinny, jump-on-the-bed happy. And I still was, when I got to work, covered in snow that melted all over everything. I will also say that I would much rather walk the streets of my little northern town than Arlington, VA, in a snowstorm, both because the streets are less busy and because people here experience enough snow that they know how to drive in it. I was the first one in to work, because everyone else had a slow, slow commute, but no one here is complaining about accidents or about the maniacs on the road.
It is your job to remind me how fun this was in March, when there is even more snow and it's dirty and slushy and I can't stand it for one more second because WTF WILL WINTER NEVER END?!?!. But when I wrote this at 10 this morning, I was watching that white stuff still falling, and I was still grinny.

In a slightly more look-how-citified-I-am story from this morning, I had a friend spending the night at my house last night. And after I left, she realized she'd left a Nalgene bottle in my car, back when my car was still working. So at 10 this morning, I had this text message: "Who locks their broken car inside their own garage?"
Who, indeed.
My text back: "A city mouse who is unused to her own garage and her broken car."
Seriously, I have my own garage? Really? Guess so.

Who's got a better word for "citified"?

Welcome home

Here's the thing:
When I live in the Big City (not even so big; lately, it's Washington, D.C.), I am annoyed. I am cynical and aggressive and very, very citified. I wear a lot of black. And also, inside, I sometimes feel like a little bit of a rube. I do like the stuff to do and all the people watching, but it wears me out.
When I live in the Rural Places, I feel overdressed, a little awkward. A little stupidly slick, even prissy, and you country folks know what I mean because you look at me like I'm crazy. A former farmer who knew me only from the city once expressed surprise that I knew where mules came from. The more time I spend away from the city, the more that wears off, which is good, and the serener I get, but won't I eventually get bored?
So I waffle.
And my latest waffling has brought me to a small-but-not-tiny Northern Town I lived in before I went to Washington for 8 years. I am back home, in some senses, and a fish out of water, all at the same time. Been here a week. Wowza.
I left some wonderful city friends behind, who wanted to hear about the transition, and I was inclined to send e-mails, telling them all about it.
But what is the World Wide Web for, if not to tell the Wide World about things only your close friends could care about at all?