Back from Galena. All my stuff is still here. Huzzah! So are the Polish contractors. Less of a huzzah -- I hoped that all this would be done by the time I got back, but I'll live. There's only a few more things that need to be done -- molding and cable repaired around the heating vent, new vent covers and outlet covers in the bathroom, a new shower curtain rig in the bathroom. They'll be back Wednesday to finish it up. And I can use my bathroom now! Huzzah!
And they just hauled the abandoned fridge on my back porch away! Can I get a huzzah? Huzzah!
Everything looks great. And dusty. But great. I've been taking pictures of the process, and just freaked out the subcontractors by taking their picture. I have no idea how you say "psycho" in Polish, but I have a feeling that will be the general feeling expressed on the way home.
But enough about them: Let's talk about me! And the long weekend.
Galena: Way fun. Eleven of us -- Angie, Jordan, Brian, Diane, Wayne, Laura, Lotti, John, Julie, Brad and me -- rented a five-bedroom house together at this resorty place, Eagle Ridge. The house had the requisite grill and decks and porches and pool table and hot tub. Eagle Ridge had the requisite Midwestern resorty things: golf courses, pool, rolling hills, trees, birds signing, gorgeous views, deer, etc. We also had the requisite cold, crappy-ass weather for the first couple of days, but Sunday and monday were gorgeous. The golfers golfed (and you pay real money for that -- why?) while the non-golfers went into Galena, a "quaint" "historical" town that was actually pretty cool. Recessions meant the cool old houses were never torn down, so it's still got a great old-town feeling. It's also apparently a haven for artsy types, according the guide on the trolley tour, who said he was a retired-ish musician. By Historic, of course, we mean from the mid-1800s, but hey, that's old for out here.
Digression -- As an East-Coaster, who went to a school that recently celebrated its 250-year anniversary, 1850s doesn't seem that old. And, yeah, yeah, I know, Newton, your house is older than my country. It's still cool out there. End digression.
Most of the time was spent lounging around the house, steeping in the hot tub, making (and drinking) copious amounts of margaritas and such, and eating food that just can't be good for you, including a snack mix that Angie's mom brought up that we dubbed crack. Yes, it was that addictive. We talked trash and mocked each other viscously and had a good time all around.
Now, this may come as a shock to you, but it has been brought to my attention that I may be, yes, a wee bit over-competitive/self -righteous.
Exhibit A: We drove to Galena in Lotti's Barbiemobile, an SUV. Someone was pulling out of a parking space ahead of us. The sign next to the curb said "Small car only." The following conversation ensued:
Further evidence of progress: We did not, despite evil cackling plans early in the night, crank call Dean to sing the "Lotti's Vasectomy Clinic" song. Ditto Zeke. We let Heather, Carrie, Marnie, Katie (and young Will) and others sleep undisturbed. We refrained from placing a collect call to Tif in London, under the names "Death and Destruction." (Hey, it's worked before.) We cleaned up after ourselves. I only lost control of my neck once.
My god, I may be turning into an adult.
And they just hauled the abandoned fridge on my back porch away! Can I get a huzzah? Huzzah!
Everything looks great. And dusty. But great. I've been taking pictures of the process, and just freaked out the subcontractors by taking their picture. I have no idea how you say "psycho" in Polish, but I have a feeling that will be the general feeling expressed on the way home.
But enough about them: Let's talk about me! And the long weekend.
Galena: Way fun. Eleven of us -- Angie, Jordan, Brian, Diane, Wayne, Laura, Lotti, John, Julie, Brad and me -- rented a five-bedroom house together at this resorty place, Eagle Ridge. The house had the requisite grill and decks and porches and pool table and hot tub. Eagle Ridge had the requisite Midwestern resorty things: golf courses, pool, rolling hills, trees, birds signing, gorgeous views, deer, etc. We also had the requisite cold, crappy-ass weather for the first couple of days, but Sunday and monday were gorgeous. The golfers golfed (and you pay real money for that -- why?) while the non-golfers went into Galena, a "quaint" "historical" town that was actually pretty cool. Recessions meant the cool old houses were never torn down, so it's still got a great old-town feeling. It's also apparently a haven for artsy types, according the guide on the trolley tour, who said he was a retired-ish musician. By Historic, of course, we mean from the mid-1800s, but hey, that's old for out here.
Digression -- As an East-Coaster, who went to a school that recently celebrated its 250-year anniversary, 1850s doesn't seem that old. And, yeah, yeah, I know, Newton, your house is older than my country. It's still cool out there. End digression.
Most of the time was spent lounging around the house, steeping in the hot tub, making (and drinking) copious amounts of margaritas and such, and eating food that just can't be good for you, including a snack mix that Angie's mom brought up that we dubbed crack. Yes, it was that addictive. We talked trash and mocked each other viscously and had a good time all around.
Now, this may come as a shock to you, but it has been brought to my attention that I may be, yes, a wee bit over-competitive/self -righteous.
Exhibit A: We drove to Galena in Lotti's Barbiemobile, an SUV. Someone was pulling out of a parking space ahead of us. The sign next to the curb said "Small car only." The following conversation ensued:
Lotti: Ooh, a space!Exhibit B: Playing Trivial Pursuit late at night. Lotti and John are winning. Everyone is tired and willing to let the game come to a merciful end, but my sense of TP superiority is offended. Lotti starts giving people hints, just to move the game along. I lodge a protest. The judging on correct answers gets way too lax. I complain vociferously. Angie woke up enough to roll her eyes at me. I believe that Julie is openly laughing at me, and probably thinking "I can't believe I used to live with this freak." Finally, Lotti and John get to the middle space to win the game. Most people say give them a question in a category they can ace: Entertainment. I (and Julie, thank you very much) insist on their worst category, Sports and Leisure.
Me: Wait, it says small car only.
Lotti. But I can totally fit in there.
Me: This is NOT a SMALL CAR. I HATE it when SUVs park in small car spots!
Lotti: But look at the other SUVs parked here!
Me: (Foaming at the mouth) NOT A SMALL CAR! THEY ARE ALL ASSHOLES! THAT DOES NOT MEAN WE NEED TO BE ASSHOLES! WE ARE NOT A SMALL CAR!
Lotti: Yipe.
Angie: Why don't we give the parking space to Laura [who was behind us, driving a small Saturn]?
Lotti: Whatever.
Me: [Steam ceasing coming out of ears, eyes going back into sockets, veins stopping throbbing.] Ok.
Laura and everyone in her car: Wow, they're giving up their space! That was nice! Um, why?
Angie: Don't ask.
Angie: We're EXHAUSTED. Can't you just let them win?Yes, I made the game go on another hour, when most of the room was well-nigh comatose. On the upside, Lotti only gloated a little, and I didn't kill her in her sleep. I feel we're making progress.
Me: No, dammit. Sports and Leisure. My honor is on the line.
Angie: *Whimper*
Further evidence of progress: We did not, despite evil cackling plans early in the night, crank call Dean to sing the "Lotti's Vasectomy Clinic" song. Ditto Zeke. We let Heather, Carrie, Marnie, Katie (and young Will) and others sleep undisturbed. We refrained from placing a collect call to Tif in London, under the names "Death and Destruction." (Hey, it's worked before.) We cleaned up after ourselves. I only lost control of my neck once.
My god, I may be turning into an adult.
posted by SAJ at
9:28 PM
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