Surfing

What came to mind when you read the post title, Surfing? I think for most people it would be one of a limited number of things: the sport in the water, where waves and sharks are your biggest challenges; couches, where your friends and relatives can end up when they're between residences or relationships; the Web, where anonymity and trolls are among the biggest pitfalls; and the TV, before which people across the land relax to forget their troubles for a while...or learn about new ones.

All are valid, and I'm betting there are a few more that haven't crossed my mind.

For me, however, in the last eight months or so, surfing has meant something else entirely: I've been a Refrigerator Surfer.

Sometime last December, my refrigerator died. Overnight it shut down and by the time I realized what had happened late the next morning, every single perishable thing in it had defrosted or gone bad. It was a mess. Everything had to go and I was faced with the daunting cost of buying a new fridge or calling in a repair person who would likely charge me to tell me it was not worth fixing because of its age. Neither prospect was appealing.

So, me being me, I did nothing. Everything was gone, there was no rush to decide what to do and I really, really didn't feel I could spare the money to replace it. Time went by, a month, two months and it really wasn't all that difficult. Yes, I missed milk and ice cubes -- I really, REALLY missed ice cubes -- but apart from that, it wasn't too bad. I had butter and I had eggs, which really don't need to be as refrigerated as we've been conditioned to believe, and everything else was either shelf stable or I didn't have it.

The biggest challenge, apart from the aforementioned ice cubes, was leftovers. I've changed my eating habits and I very often eat only half a meal when I dine out. With my budget being tight, I wasn't about to start throwing away what could well be a whole other meal for myself! So I started fridge surfing, borrowing space in the fridges of friends and family, for short periods of time. Well, short periods of time except for my brother's fridge, because I decided being family gave me the right to keep things in there just a little bit longer. Have you seen my brother's fridge? Much of the time it looks something like this:

It was just begging for more actual food in it! And who am I to deny a beautiful fridge like that anything? In return, it kept me in ice and cold water every couple of days. A beautiful, symbiotic relationship, as far as I was concerned. I'm anticipating that B²W³ (that's "the Best Brother in the Whole Wide World" for those of you who may be new to my blog) just might have a slightly different take on it, but that's what the comments are for, right?

I digress, however. My groceries, leftovers, treats and I became a traveling exhibit, moving from store/restaurant to one fridge to another as needed for months on end. I've "borrowed" ice from more freezers that you can shake a stick at in that time, too. A lot of people thought I was nuts, to varying degrees, and if I had a dollar for every time I heard, "I could never do that!" or "How on earth do you manage?" I'd probably have had enough to buy that new fridge.

But it worked pretty well for me overall, I have to say. Not only did I not spend money I couldn't spare on a new fridge, I wasn't filling it with food that all too often went bad before I could use it, I didn't have any ice cream in the house to tempt me, and my electricity bill was the lowest it has ever been. In the back of my mind, though, I knew that it was a temporary thing. I just knew that somehow, some way, I was going to get a fridge that wouldn't cost me much, if anything, and this personal experiment would be over.

Today is that day. Tonight I plugged in my brand new, used refrigerator that came to me for absolutely nothing through a friend, Freecycling at its best. It has been sitting in my kitchen for a week, waiting for me to start using it, once I got it all cleaned up. But I wasn't ready quite yet. I found I wasn't eager to jump right back into the regular world of refrigeration and give up my surfing days. I needed a reason, a push, an impetus.

Tonight I came home from an evening out with a leftover box, no desire to go find a fridge for it and not wanting it to go to waste. So I plugged my new friend in, listened to her hum, then filled her with everything I had available to me, which, admittedly, wasn't much.

It's only fair that I present to you, in the finest tradition of my family, my new used fridge, ready for action and the cleanest it will probably ever be from this day forward:

As soon as those bottle are actually chilled, let's have a toast, shall we?

My Days of May

Recently, my brother suggested that I might not be let into BlogHer '11 if I didn't get off my butt and post something soon. If there were a ruling body of blogging, I probably would have been drummed out ages ago, either for insubordination or insufficient production. Fortunately, blogging is a "make your own rules" game; or it is as far as I'm concerned!

But his point was taken, as I didn't blog last month and now May is already over so, really, I'm quite behind. Here's the thing, however: I don't feel like I have much to say. The last post I started, and abandoned, fell somewhere between whiny rant and self-indulgent crap. I'd rather say, or write, nothing at all.

The things that come to mind as the weeks go by mostly go on Twitter, even though I am trying to take the advice I wrote about earlier to not waste all the good ideas there. And, truth be told, I haven't really had anything terribly interesting to say there, either, of late. But I thought I'd go back anyway and look at my tweets from the last month to see if there were any gems or anything worth expanding on. Or maybe enough for a "Month in Review" kind of thing. Or something.


5/1 - Advice I retweeted: "Never pass up an opportunity to leave someone’s day BETTER off than you found it." I think that's something we could all work on doing. Give someone an unexpected compliment. Take five seconds out of your busy day and hold the door open for a woman who's clearly struggling to walk. Leave that extra dollar of tip for your waiter who is most likely not having a great day and is making a lot less than you might imagine.

5/1-5/27 - The San Jose Sharks run at the Stanley Cup finals. A number of my friends are big fans of the team and I support them mostly out of local pride, so I watched most of the games and even attended one. (They lost.) I was sorry that they couldn't beat the Vancouver Canucks, but they were clearly outmatched.

5/1 - The killing of Bin Laden by U.S. Navy Seals. Not much I can say about it that hasn't already been said, but it was truly a noteworthy night. I can't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure Twitter alerted me to the fact that something was going on and I immediately put on CNN; that was fine while Don Lemon (whom I adore) was at the helm, but then they called in Wolf Blitzer (whom I don't) and I settled in for a few hours of him repeating over and over again the little bit of information they have. I really hate that part of the immediate news coverage cycle.

5/6 - #GettingOlder and my new dance with heartburn and acid reflux. After a couple of rough nights, I learned this month that I can't have certain things to eat after about 8:00pm. Things like chocolate. Dammit. But as much as I love chocolate and enjoy having a little morsel from time to time at night, I loathe in equal measure the sensation of acid reflux. Truly one of THE most awful feelings I've ever experienced.

5/8 - Our first Mother's Day without our mom. Not surprisingly, it kind of sucked but, because of good friends, it sucked less than it would have otherwise. The week prior was really difficult for my brother and I, with almost every ad everywhere you turned touting the upcoming day; it was inescapable. But even with reminders everywhere, I managed to forget what that Sunday actually was when I kind of invited us to our friends' house for brunch! But, being the awesome people they are, they embraced having us over and we had such a good time. Thank you, Chuck and Michelle, for everything.

5/12 - I started reading Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card after being told by more than one person that it was the best sci-fi book ever and that I had to read it. After having my head stuck in it for the next three days straight until I finished it, I'd have to agree.

5/21 - The big countdown to the non-materializing Rapture. No one went anywhere. Enough said.

5/23 - I got carded at the supermarket when buying beer. I'm 43 years old. That was a good day.

5/25 - As I think I've mentioned here before, I love playing Bingo. I rarely get to play it because few casinos have it any more and sitting in a smoky church hall with a bunch of regulars who aren't terribly welcoming to newcomers (at least, that has been my past experience) isn't my idea of fun. So when my brother told me that our local Hooters has Bingo on Wednesdays, I was putting on my shoes and heading out almost immediately! I mean, beer, boobs, and Bingo, does it get any better? It was fun and I even won a round. They're doing it through June, so I think I'll be back.

5/26 - Gratuitous cat photo time:

He was snuggled in my lap like that for the longest time, looking like the king of all he surveyed. (Yes, the pale flesh-colored thing to the left is my leg; the tan, brown bit to the right is my chair. I'm just so white.)

5/27 - My brother and I went to Lake Tahoe for the Memorial Day weekend and it was really fun. We were pretty fortunate traffic-wise and had an enjoyable few days. Even though the people who live there are really tired of snow, it snowed big, fluffy, fat flakes on and off during those days and it was lovely to see one last time for the season.

5/31 - I finally got my rear in gear and I completed my May post just under the wire! Yay me. See you next month. ;-)

A Moment In San Francisco

Not a half hour ago I was ruminating on how crappy I've been doing with keeping up on the lists thing, and with blogging in general. I saw another Listography book in the gift store of SFMOMA, which I'd just finished visiting for the first time, and I told myself I could NOT buy it because I'm not doing a good enough job with the one I have.

The thought of that was not enough to make me rush back to the hotel and do a post, but on the way back by bus something happened and all I could think about was, "I have to write about this." I don't even know why, other than it was just bizarre. I'm going to write it as I heard it, and you have to know that going in because the language is not what I would use myself. Read that as "WARNING, UNPLEASANT AND OBJECTIONABLE LANGUAGE AHEAD!" and do not bitch at me in the comments for it. (In other words, stop here if it's going to bother you, m'kay?)

I've been in and out of San Francisco all week and I've depended on public transit to get around because it's just too expensive for cabs, I can only walk so much and street parking is just a nightmare 95% of the time. So I've got a pretty basic handle on the system and feel comfortable taking it solo. In the back of my mind is always the recent spate of fights on the Muni system, recorded by omnipresent cell phones, that I've seen on the news, but so far, so good.

I got on the bus near the museum and was happy to find it uncrowded enough to grab a seat. The next stop, however, brought in what I immediately pegged (perhaps unfairly, perhaps not) as the Obligatory Bus Crazy Person and he set up shop right in the exit doorway, announcing as he boarded that we all needed to move because, "A black guy is getting on...and I've got a big dick. You all need to make room." You will perhaps understand my trepidation? Yes? Good, because it gets better.

He started complaining about the "nasty Chinese people" at the front of the bus who apparently wouldn't let some kids sit down. He continued rambling on, loudly, but apart from a few more "nasty ass" type things, I tuned him out.

The next stop brought in a flood of people and pretty much maxed out the bus. As people filtered back, it got crowded and two guys ended up next to the OBCP. One of them must have gotten that little bit too close because OBCP started making more noise and telling one of the two guys to move his ass. The young man, who was Asian American, was startled and asked if he was talking to him. "Yes, I mean you. Move yo' ass! I don't wanna be bumping asses with you, nigga! If I wanted to touch yo' ass, nigga, I'd reach out and grab it." Grumble grumble grumble.

I glanced over at the Asian woman sitting next to me and she kind of smirked back with shared amusement briefly, before turning away to distance herself from the situation. The young Asian American man moved as much as he could, smiled at his friend wryly and said, "I love the bus."

OBCP didn't like that. "Yeah, you love the bus. You love ass. Don't you bump asses with me nigga. If you was a white bitch, I'd do it. But you ain't, nigga." Grumble grumble grumble.

I realized that my stop was coming up soon and OBCP was between me and the exit. I wondered if I should say, "A white bitch wants to get off, please," but decided that wouldn't be all that wise. I stood up as the bus was coming to a stop, and the other young man moved aside for me. I quietly said, "Careful, you don't want to bump asses!" while smiling my thanks. He smiled back and let me step around him.

Just as I moved past him, OBCP saw me and it was like someone flipped a switch. He went from slightly crazy black man to a proper Southern gentleman. "You gettin' off here, ma'am? Here you go, sister." He moved aside and continued, "God bless you, ma'am, you have a nice evening." Astonished, I replied, "Thank you, sir, you too." (Sir? Sir!? Where the hell did that come from?) I moved down the stairs and off the bus, and as the doors shut behind me --  not letting anyone else on, much to the annoyance of the waiting riders -- I was just flabbergasted at how his demeanor had changed and how surreal my (otherwise dreaded) exchange with him was.

I walked away toward the hotel, thinking, "I have to write about this!" the whole time. I guess you never know when a blog post is going to hit you right between your normally-Politically-Correct eyes.

Was A "Social Lie" Called For?

As many of you know, over the Christmas holiday I had a part-time job at a chocolate shop. It had been a dream of mine since I was a little girl to one day work for this chocolate shop company. I not only got to live that dream, I got to live it in the very store that had inspired me as a child.

Recently, they called me back to work there again for the upcoming Valentine's Day rush. I said yes and, as I'm currently an employee there, I'd prefer not to mention the name of the company here just yet. You probably know and that's fine; let's just see if we can avoid mentioning it in the comments, m'kay? ;-)

I worked last night for a few hours and had a moment that left me questioning my response to a customer query. Now, customers ask me a LOT of questions during each and every shift (when I'm no longer working there, I plan to write about some of them) and because a high level of interaction is required, I turn into the perkiest, chattiest Cathy you ever did see. So not me in general, but it's kind of part of the role. I'm used to being questioned and responding in a friendly manner and tonight was no exception. The question this time was a first for me, though.

A nice man (who had been kind enough to let an older lady go first because he was indecisive about what to get), who I would say is around my age, was ordering his candy and I was getting it bagged for him. I think he asked a question or two about what kind of boxes were available and it was a pleasant interaction. Then he smiled and asked, "It must be really hard for your other half to get you something special for Valentine's Day when you work in a chocolate shop, huh?" I didn't really think about it too much, I just replied honestly, smiling, "Well, if I had another half then, yes, it might be difficult for him!"

At least two of the ladies in line visibly cringed and one said, "Ohhhh..." in an "Ooh, you stepped in it, mister," kind of way. I could tell that he didn't really know what to say for a moment, so I continued on in an attempt to mitigate his embarrassment, "But then, I love getting chocolate so it really wouldn't be all that hard!" I kept smiling and finished the transaction. He recovered and was smiling again when he left.

I was left to wonder if being honest (but pleasant) wasn't the right move in this case, however. Because while I didn't mean to put him on the spot, he was making a common assumption I encounter all the time: Coupled, until proven otherwise. I'm used to setting the record straight, so it came naturally and there was no ill will intended in my answer. Now I'm thinking, however, that it wasn't actually meant as a personal question -- it was really just like the ones I get all the time along the lines of "Oh, how can you stand to work here without eating chocolate all the time?!?" -- so perhaps I should have just played it off with a laughing, "Oh, it is!" or something similar.

Was the so-called "social lie" called for in this case? What do you think?

Hey, hey, hey, I like being cool

No, not "cool" in the figurative "Oh, she's so cool, I want to be just like her" sense. I mean the literal "I like the temperature to be cool pretty much constantly" sense. I can't even pretend to be cool in the former sense, although once in college these two young girls took in my car and belongings as I was moving back in to the dorm for a new year and asked me, "Are you cool?" I still have no idea how I was supposed to answer that. (It was a pretty cool car, I must admit, so I guess I had them fooled.)

Alas, no, it's my unquenchable desire for chill that I'm talking about here. It's why restaurants where I'm a regular bring the BIG glass of ice water when I sit down and why other restaurants are pestered by me for "a glass of ice...just ice" pretty much constantly. It's why I have a fan going on my desk at work when other people have a heater going under theirs. It's why the A/C is on in my car more than it's off. It's why I walk around in short sleeves in the winter, while the people I'm with are dressed for the Arctic. It's why driving in a car with my mother, who's always cold, is like a punishment from the gods of temperature control. It's why the windows in my room are open year-round AND a timed fan is going in there much of the time, too. It's why I sometimes think that moving to Alaska is really my only option, eventually. (A certain Ms. Palin and Alaska politics have made me rethink that, but I'll definitely be going back to visit.)

I like to joke that it's because my thermostat is broken. But honestly, I'm not sure what it is that makes me seek out the frigid instead of the fiery, I just know that it extends to all areas of my life. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a complete wuss when it comes to spicy foods (though I have gotten better!) and can probably guess that my favorite thing about Costco is the cold-storage room where they keep the fruit.

The reason this comes to mind is that I just read a post by my friend, Twenty Four At Heart, at her blog of the same name wherein I got to interview her as a part of the Great Interview Experiment started by Neil of Citizen of the Month. When it comes to temperature preferences, Twenty Four and I are poles apart, but somehow we get along just fine. I hope you'll go over and read her responses to my questions and say hi.

An Unconventional Memory Lane

This morning as I left for work, I detoured to the trash enclosure to toss a bag in the dumpster on the way to my car.

Because I'm always running late, I've got this chore down to a science and it's a tribute to economy of motion: Flip gate latch, open gate, three brisk steps in, sweep lid up with one hand, fling bag in with other hand as turning around, three brisk steps back out, close gate and dash.

This morning, however, I was brought up short as I was taking those steps back out. There, on the cinder block retaining wall in front of the recycling bins, was an old metal box, open, full to bursting with photographic slides. The old-fashioned kind that almost no one gets anymore, since you need a slide projector and screen to view them.

I could see handwriting on the crisp white cardboard of some of them, so I lifted a few out, one by one, and held them up to the morning sun. Roses, a spring garden in bloom, a pregnant woman in 70s-style clothes grinning at the camera, the view from the top of a nameless tram.

Even though I really needed to get going, I stood, transfixed. Here was a box of someone's memories, left next to -- but not in -- the trash. As though whoever had put them there knew they needed to go, but couldn't bear to actually be the one to throw them away.

Questions tumbled in my head. Who did they belong to? Why had they been abandoned? Had the person who took them, collected them and arranged them so carefully over so many years died? Was there no one in the family who would have wanted this treasure trove of history? Did it upset the person who left the box behind to have to do it?

I stood there and contemplated closing the box up tight against its fate, tucking it under my arm and taking it with me. But I don't have a projector. I don't have a screen. I don't have a clue whose memories were sitting there in that unusual box, one step away from the landfill.

It saddened me to put the slides back, shut the lid, and walk away.

But most days it seems that I hardly have room for my own memories. How could I try to take on those of a stranger?

Get Thee Gone to the Windy City

See all those ladies over there to the right, underneath "Mo-mmy Blogger Lovefest" in the sidebar? In a mere 24 hours from now, I will be under the same roof as almost every one of them. And, at long last, I'm excited about it!

I've had a lot on my mind and haven't really had much time to spend thinking about it or getting geared up, mentally, to go. I've done what I needed to do -- make hotel reservations, get a roommate, book a flight, get transportation set, order calling cards, request time off -- but it has seemed so distant and I did all that on kind of an autopilot. But the time is here and I'm "there" now; I can't wait to get going and hit the ground in Chicago to soak up the experience. I'm not in the least bit anxious about actually going or nervous about meeting people, but I do wonder if it will live up to my expectations.

Since no one has ever asked me about the title of my mini blogroll there, I assume that either a) you get it, or b) you don't care. (I suppose there is an option c) you never even noticed it because blogrolls are "so four years ago." I don't care. I like them.) No one can deny that "mommy bloggers" rule the roost in blogging these days, and the vast majority of my online female friends fall into that category.

Sometimes I feel a little lost as a non-mom blogger in the mix. The fact that I go my own way and don't really fall into line on the way other bloggers seem to feel you "should" do things (you know, like post more than twice a month) probably doesn't help. Then add in that there are simply some things my friends encounter and feel are things that I will never encounter or feel because I'm not a parent. It means that not only are our lives really different, but our blogs are vastly different, too. Not that that's a bad thing, it just leaves me wondering where I fit in sometimes and I'm curious as to whether that's going to be more apparent or less apparent this weekend...or make no appreciable difference whatsoever. I started thinking about it when reviewing the panels that will be at BlogHer, as a whole bunch of them revolve around mommy bloggers. The good news is that the panels I choose to go to will likely be a little more lightly attended!

But don't go expecting that I'm going to come back from it all full of vim and vigor, bursting at the seams with all sorts of great bloggy ideas and such. This is me, after all. If I get around to posting about the conference, that will be one in the Win column. You can come here after reading everybody else's post-BlogHer wrap-ups and maybe I'll tell you all about the mommy bloggers behind the scenes, once they've really let their hair down. "BlogHer Exposed: When the Squeeing Ends and the Drinking Begins."* Photos will cost a little extra. Send bribes to my nonexistent Paypal account, m'kay? See you on the flip side.

*Yes, that will be the only time the word "squee" ever appears on this site.

Topicless Tuesday

I wish I had something of interest to share with you today, but I don't really. However, if I let too many days go by between posts, I feel bad and get into that "Oh, I'll get around to it..." mentality too easily.

I was glad to see that people clicked through to the First Book voting site, especially after a new friend promoted the post to her peeps. I've been trying to get back there each day to vote, and I happily noted that California had risen from the middle of the pack to #8 as of today. Keep those votes coming for your state!

Speaking of books, you can see over there to the right (at the moment) that one of the books I'm reading right now is Janet Evanovich's Fearless Fourteen. I adore her Stephanie Plum series because they're always laugh-out-loud funny and this one is no exception. I've been reading Janet's books for many, many years, from back when she was writing "Loveswept" novels, pre-Plum, and I was always taken with the twist of humor she brought to them. If you're not already a fan and are looking for a fun new author and some great books to read, I highly recommend her.

Since I'm being pretty random today, I figure I might as well wrap it up with a picture that's apropos of nothing, other than that it's of a pretty flower that's nostalgic for me and reminds me of someone special.

Randomness

- On my drive home tonight, I saw two cars in traffic with the license plates IBM GUY and INTL LADY. You wouldn't guess that I live in Silicon Valley, would you?

- There's nothing quite as odd as your mother telling you, apropos of nothing, "They got rid of Chikezie last night."

- You can make a damn fine frittata out of a bunch of leftovers. Correction: I can make a damn fine frittata out of a bunch of leftovers!

- I started as new book today, the second in a relatively new series from an author I enjoy, Victoria Laurie. I've read all of the books in her Abby Cooper, Psychic Eye, series. I like her style and they're entertaining. If you're not into psychic "mumbo jumbo," you probably wouldn't go for her work. If you're a fan of the show Medium, though, you probably would.

- Speaking of books, I'm anxiously waiting for my Kindle to arrive. I've pretty much stopped buying paper books in anticipation of downloading them wirelessly.

- Yahoo! has really improved its search functionality with the addition of Search Assist. I find myself using it more and Google somewhat less recently.