Remember those African violet leaves I stuck in dirt a couple of months ago? Check them out!
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| Hooray! I can't believe it worked! |
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| After 3 years, it suddenly has tiny little flowers! |
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| Cool! |
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Thrilling Developments
Whenever I come back from the US, I'm always shocked when my plants didn't die. Especially this time, since I wasn't entirely confident BE would bother to water, let alone follow the nit-picky instructions I left on each plant.
Remember those African violet leaves I stuck in dirt a couple of months ago? Check them out!
This other plant is something I just thought was some sort of border grass, and I only bought it to fill out an ivy pot. I re-potted it when the ivy decided it didn't want a roommate anymore. But look!
This other plant is getting massive and it keeps sprouting these weird little alien babies that turn into new plants. It also sends leaves off to the sides. When I get around to it, I'm going to have to figure out how to cut off the babies and replant them.
Remember those African violet leaves I stuck in dirt a couple of months ago? Check them out!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Istanbul Spor: A Trip To The Pazar
Note to self: Next time I feel guilty about not exercising, I should just remember how often I buy a bunch of crap and haul it home on foot. Since our house had almost no food in it, today was perhaps a little more than usual. Also, the pazar is just really cool.
I admit I'm a bit sore, though it's hard to tell if it's from this, or from traveling and hauling shit around airports and in and out of cars, or both. And it looks like I'm definitely cooking tonight.
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| Today's haul, cunningly arranged. |
Back In The 'Bull: 2011
It's fucking hot. The airport was crowded (a small haci flight with their endless checked plastic bottles of holy water, dazed walking patterns and holier-than-thou pushing style, plus a flight from either Iran or Iraq, which has a special passport control area wherein like a thousand people comprise a heaving, shoving mass about 10 feet square, with assorted children and burquas flitting around the edges, in a giant space that could easily accommodate them if they believed in the queue) but we breezed through so fast we beat BE and MIL to the greeting area.
I accomplished this partly by cheating, where I abused LE's citizenship status by getting us into the citizen passport check (around 7 people waiting) instead of the foreigner passport check (around 50,000 people waiting). The officer kept tossing our documents back to us disdainfully, which I took personally, especially because LE has just gotten tall enough to peek over the top of the counter and any small, cute part of him is usually enough to melt the coldest officer heart. But as soon as we passed, the officer started yelling at another guy that he'd been waiting an hour for his break, so then it was okay and I felt better. At least he didn't tell me to fuck off because he needed a piss and a cigarette.
The other part that made it so quick was out of my hands: this was the first trip in 3 years where none, yes, NONE of my bags went missing. Last year, all of them went missing. In previous years, it was just some of them, but missing bags means waiting hopefully at the carousel for up to an hour and a half, and eventually coming to accept that none of the bags that keep coming around will be mine.
If there is a large crowd waiting for bags, it doesn't mean yours will come eventually. It means everyone's bags are lost and you'd better freaking hurry up to the Havaş lost luggage office, skipping the line waiting politely outside the window and muscling your way in to cheerfully grab a passing worker to sort things out. You have to get into the office before everyone else realizes they have to actually go into the office (the window is just a structural feint or distraction, as no worker ever goes near there). The worker is always happy to deal with a cheerful foreigner rather than attempt to help the increasingly angry and bigoted crowd of foreigners in the window. Sometimes, if I've made a foreign friend while waiting for baggage, I'll get him/her sorted out while I'm at it.
Anyway, lost bags have become so much a part of the Turkey entry routine that it was a bit of a shock getting through without it. And all the foreign friends I made while getting bags also got their bags, so I didn't have to worry about leaving anyone in the lurch.
I hasten to add that the Turks are not in the least at fault for the lost baggage. They're super-champs about finding stuff and delivering it to your door with a smile (though they do dick you around quite a bit until they have the bags where they can see them so it's pointless to call). The worst lost bag delay I ever had on the Turkey side was when it dumped a foot of snow and their home delivery trucks couldn't get through, but even then, they phoned several times with weather-based ETAs. It's the foreign airlines, in particular Delta (who are quick to blame it on KLM and Air France) and United (who always blame it on Lufthansa). The apparent purpose of so-called "partner airlines" is to create the ability to blame fiascoes on the other airline. British Airways also loses stuff too, but that tends to be more of a Heathrow problem than BA's. Anyway.
I get to pull my head out of traveling for now. Time for Back In The 'Bull 2011 Highlights and Lowlights:
Lowlights:
1) Our toilet was leaking.
2) The kombi wasn't working.
3) BE was a complete dick.
4) BE had drunk all my gin, which explains some of the drunk-dials to my folks' house.
Highlights:
1) I get to learn some toilet-repair vocabulary with the plumber. Usually, I'm okay with toilet repair, but this is a new one (out the bottom, onto the floor). Also, the toilet was doing this when we moved in, but as broken things tend to do, it wouldn't perform the leak when the plumber was there so he pronounced the toilet fine. Up till now it's been intermittent enough to be fine, but any toilet leak is never fine because you never know if it's poop water or tank water all over the floor.
2) As for the kombi, I wanted a cold shower anyway. Maybe I would have liked to ease into the coldness a bit more but it was still breathtakingly refreshing.
3) Despite being a dick the whole ride from his parents' house to ours, BE still did most of the shit-work of hauling the four giant bags up four flights of stairs. Neither the plants nor the fish are dead. Sometimes I'm inclined to think BE's really a nice guy on the inside and only a dick on the outside. It's a fine difference, but worth mentioning. And man, am I glad he didn't leave me to haul the bags myself because I might have died. Especially because I was already teeth-grindingly upset about the dickishness on the car-ride over. And also borderline insane from the 20-hour trip and not having slept at all during said trip.
4) The gin problem was easily remedied. Plus I have a duty-free Grand Marnier nightcap awaiting me for the next few months. Ha!
5) And I fixed the fuck out of the kombi. After phoning BE to get the number for the plumber and ask if he knew any kombi secrets, I felt like I was being some shitty and helpless female, especially because I was still so relieved he helped get the bags up the stairs. So I got call him back, all, "Hey, I fixed the fuck out of the kombi." I just left out the part where I hadn't figured out how to turn the gas back on the first time I'd called (for some inexplicable reason, BE had shut off both the kombi and the gas, and the only reason I'd mentioned the kombi to him on the phone was because I thought he might know where the reset button is, like on my past problematic kombis). But also there was a flashing red button that I fixed by holding it down till it stopped flashing. Hah!
Anyway, it's nice to see our house and air it out, and find nothing has gone wrong except there are a few scary dead bugs lying around.
As for the heat, I'll just have to suffer. And our arrival home has coincided nicely with pazar day, which means I get to go do something fun, plus get some food in here because I felt rather like a bachelor with my dinner of cheese, bread, and olives last night.
I accomplished this partly by cheating, where I abused LE's citizenship status by getting us into the citizen passport check (around 7 people waiting) instead of the foreigner passport check (around 50,000 people waiting). The officer kept tossing our documents back to us disdainfully, which I took personally, especially because LE has just gotten tall enough to peek over the top of the counter and any small, cute part of him is usually enough to melt the coldest officer heart. But as soon as we passed, the officer started yelling at another guy that he'd been waiting an hour for his break, so then it was okay and I felt better. At least he didn't tell me to fuck off because he needed a piss and a cigarette.
 |
| All here! |
If there is a large crowd waiting for bags, it doesn't mean yours will come eventually. It means everyone's bags are lost and you'd better freaking hurry up to the Havaş lost luggage office, skipping the line waiting politely outside the window and muscling your way in to cheerfully grab a passing worker to sort things out. You have to get into the office before everyone else realizes they have to actually go into the office (the window is just a structural feint or distraction, as no worker ever goes near there). The worker is always happy to deal with a cheerful foreigner rather than attempt to help the increasingly angry and bigoted crowd of foreigners in the window. Sometimes, if I've made a foreign friend while waiting for baggage, I'll get him/her sorted out while I'm at it.
Anyway, lost bags have become so much a part of the Turkey entry routine that it was a bit of a shock getting through without it. And all the foreign friends I made while getting bags also got their bags, so I didn't have to worry about leaving anyone in the lurch.
I hasten to add that the Turks are not in the least at fault for the lost baggage. They're super-champs about finding stuff and delivering it to your door with a smile (though they do dick you around quite a bit until they have the bags where they can see them so it's pointless to call). The worst lost bag delay I ever had on the Turkey side was when it dumped a foot of snow and their home delivery trucks couldn't get through, but even then, they phoned several times with weather-based ETAs. It's the foreign airlines, in particular Delta (who are quick to blame it on KLM and Air France) and United (who always blame it on Lufthansa). The apparent purpose of so-called "partner airlines" is to create the ability to blame fiascoes on the other airline. British Airways also loses stuff too, but that tends to be more of a Heathrow problem than BA's. Anyway.
I get to pull my head out of traveling for now. Time for Back In The 'Bull 2011 Highlights and Lowlights:
Lowlights:
1) Our toilet was leaking.
2) The kombi wasn't working.
3) BE was a complete dick.
4) BE had drunk all my gin, which explains some of the drunk-dials to my folks' house.
Highlights:
 |
| Bummer. |
2) As for the kombi, I wanted a cold shower anyway. Maybe I would have liked to ease into the coldness a bit more but it was still breathtakingly refreshing.
3) Despite being a dick the whole ride from his parents' house to ours, BE still did most of the shit-work of hauling the four giant bags up four flights of stairs. Neither the plants nor the fish are dead. Sometimes I'm inclined to think BE's really a nice guy on the inside and only a dick on the outside. It's a fine difference, but worth mentioning. And man, am I glad he didn't leave me to haul the bags myself because I might have died. Especially because I was already teeth-grindingly upset about the dickishness on the car-ride over. And also borderline insane from the 20-hour trip and not having slept at all during said trip.
4) The gin problem was easily remedied. Plus I have a duty-free Grand Marnier nightcap awaiting me for the next few months. Ha!
 |
| I'll teach you to break, bitch! |
5) And I fixed the fuck out of the kombi. After phoning BE to get the number for the plumber and ask if he knew any kombi secrets, I felt like I was being some shitty and helpless female, especially because I was still so relieved he helped get the bags up the stairs. So I got call him back, all, "Hey, I fixed the fuck out of the kombi." I just left out the part where I hadn't figured out how to turn the gas back on the first time I'd called (for some inexplicable reason, BE had shut off both the kombi and the gas, and the only reason I'd mentioned the kombi to him on the phone was because I thought he might know where the reset button is, like on my past problematic kombis). But also there was a flashing red button that I fixed by holding it down till it stopped flashing. Hah!
Anyway, it's nice to see our house and air it out, and find nothing has gone wrong except there are a few scary dead bugs lying around.
 |
| Ick. |
Monday, July 11, 2011
I Completely Fucking Suck: A Family Heirloom
Last night, I broke the family heirloom 1000 Pipers scotch shot glass.
I was drying it, and it slipped out of my hand and fell onto the counter top and broke. At least I cut my hand a little bit while cleaning it up, because I freaking deserve it.
The Family Heirloom Shot Glass wasn't just special because it's the only thing we have remaining from my grandfather's bar toys, which arguably makes it very important. It wasn't just special because we've always had it.
What made the Family Heirloom Shot Glass special was that it held shots about half an ounce larger than a normal shot glass.
Goodbye, dear shot glass. Don't tell mom.
And my brothers are going to fucking kill me.
 | ||
| It had to happen sometime, but why did it have to be me? |
The Family Heirloom Shot Glass wasn't just special because it's the only thing we have remaining from my grandfather's bar toys, which arguably makes it very important. It wasn't just special because we've always had it.
What made the Family Heirloom Shot Glass special was that it held shots about half an ounce larger than a normal shot glass.
Goodbye, dear shot glass. Don't tell mom.
And my brothers are going to fucking kill me.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Being Four: A Week Of Big Days and Mishaps
Monday: While playing softball, a neighbor stumbles while carrying LE and lands on top of him. I look over just as they fall to the ground and wonder, "Why the hell did she just tackle my kid?" Then I figured she must have known what she was doing because she has kids. Then LE was crying and the neighbor felt worse than he did.
A cuddle and a laundry basket full of sports equipment, brought out with impeccable timing by another neighbor, solved the problem and LE immediately forgot everything that had ever happened in his life before the laundry basket full of sports equipment. He shoved my face away with both hands, mid-cuddle, to get at the basket.
LE was only slightly scathed, with a small scrape on his forehead. He doesn't remember how it got there.
Then he got to stay up late and party with the grown-ups. He made it till 11.30 before collapsing in helpless whimpers about how he definitely did not want to go to bed.
Tuesday: LE gets his finger stuck in a wooden train track.
I heard this "Mama, wah!" while I was struggling with the Amtrak website to see if my friend's train was on time. I was all, "Hang on," and LE was all, "It's stuck." and I was like "Whatever," because he gets things stuck in things all the time.
But when I went to check, his finger was totally fucking stuck in that little hole, completely un-budge-able from any direction, and starting to swell. I tried soap and water and that didn't work. My mom came in and kind of panicked. I still thought it was a little bit funny and would have taken a picture if the boy hadn't been so upset about having to live with a train track stuck to his finger for the rest of his life.
We tried to break the track with a wrench and that wouldn't work. We ended up sawing the track off with this tiny coping saw my mom had for some reason, that was miraculously sitting on the top of the tool box. So that was cool.
Wednesday Morning: A large cavity in LE's molar starts bothering him a lot. I'd been putting off the cavity for far too long because I just didn't have time to deal with it, what with final exams and preparing to come here. I didn't want to deal with it here either because it's even more fucking expensive.
But the universe totally bit me on the ass for that one. Turns out the poor kid needed like a baby root canal. The dentist was all, "How the hell is this kid not crying all the time? How does he sleep?" thus sealing my label as the Worst Mommy Ever. Plus he has another small cavity next to the big one, and goodness knows what I will have to bribe him with to get him in to a dentist to fix that one, but it sure as fuck isn't going to be candy.
Lucky for LE, the Novocaine shot was so upsetting he fell asleep for the rest of the procedure. Then they let him take three prizes from the treasure chest. I'm thinking I need to get one of those dentist treasure chests for my house.
You can be sure I will show this photo to Babaanne as fuel for my pleas to stop giving him so much fucking candy, and yes, chocolate and gum count as candy. I only wish I had a recording of him screaming, "Ouch ouch ouch ouch Mama Mama it hurts so much!" That way I maybe could have also gotten her to stop giving him bowls of honey and fruit-flavored drinks and Coke.
Wednesday Afternoon: LE pretty much learned how to swim, at which point he more or less forgot about the tooth.
Knock on wood we can ride out the rest of Friday with no further developments.
A cuddle and a laundry basket full of sports equipment, brought out with impeccable timing by another neighbor, solved the problem and LE immediately forgot everything that had ever happened in his life before the laundry basket full of sports equipment. He shoved my face away with both hands, mid-cuddle, to get at the basket.
LE was only slightly scathed, with a small scrape on his forehead. He doesn't remember how it got there.
Then he got to stay up late and party with the grown-ups. He made it till 11.30 before collapsing in helpless whimpers about how he definitely did not want to go to bed.
 |
| His uncle didn't want to go to bed either. |
 | ||
| It's the hazards you don't think about that get you. |
But when I went to check, his finger was totally fucking stuck in that little hole, completely un-budge-able from any direction, and starting to swell. I tried soap and water and that didn't work. My mom came in and kind of panicked. I still thought it was a little bit funny and would have taken a picture if the boy hadn't been so upset about having to live with a train track stuck to his finger for the rest of his life.
We tried to break the track with a wrench and that wouldn't work. We ended up sawing the track off with this tiny coping saw my mom had for some reason, that was miraculously sitting on the top of the tool box. So that was cool.
Wednesday Morning: A large cavity in LE's molar starts bothering him a lot. I'd been putting off the cavity for far too long because I just didn't have time to deal with it, what with final exams and preparing to come here. I didn't want to deal with it here either because it's even more fucking expensive.
 |
| Worst Mommy Ever. |
Lucky for LE, the Novocaine shot was so upsetting he fell asleep for the rest of the procedure. Then they let him take three prizes from the treasure chest. I'm thinking I need to get one of those dentist treasure chests for my house.
You can be sure I will show this photo to Babaanne as fuel for my pleas to stop giving him so much fucking candy, and yes, chocolate and gum count as candy. I only wish I had a recording of him screaming, "Ouch ouch ouch ouch Mama Mama it hurts so much!" That way I maybe could have also gotten her to stop giving him bowls of honey and fruit-flavored drinks and Coke.
Wednesday Afternoon: LE pretty much learned how to swim, at which point he more or less forgot about the tooth.
Knock on wood we can ride out the rest of Friday with no further developments.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Coolest America Stuff I Saw Today
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| Best parking lot fireworks ad ever. |
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| Light fuse and get the fuck away! |
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| Yes, but does The Works come with a happy ending? |
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| My kid rocks. |
Monday, July 4, 2011
America: Patriotism?
Here's a crappy America montage I whipped up with the crude video editor that came with my computer. My video editing skills approximate those of the average middle school student, but it took a really long time to make so just watch the fucker, all right?
Love, Stranger.
Love, Stranger.
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