Just like a Slattery

I like to piddle around.

If I have a two-day weekend, I like to spend the first day piddling around getting nothing done, except maybe errands. If somebody else needs help at their house, I like to go do that, even if what they need doing is far more unpleasant than what I need to do at my house.

This weekend is a three-day-weekend and I have now piddled away two days.

I located the place where the mouse comes in and I’m going to plug it.

It’s under the kitchen sink, in the floor of the cabinet where the drain pipe goes under the house. I had A Plan whereby I was going to get a sheet of some sort of metal and some tin snips and make a template and cut it to fit around that pipe and then nail that bastard down.

As always happens on the way to the hardware store, though, I called my dear daddy and asked what to do. He told me to plug it with steel wool. Which seems a lot less likely to have me patching myself up in the bathroom, actually.

When I got to Lowe’s, I dropped off (yet another) paint chip and went looking for steel wool and ran into my friend Keith, who definitely shouldn’t be at the hardware store unattended. We had a jolly time looking for Allen wrenches (picked the ones that had the most in the package) and catching up.

Pete and Vince and Landon are doing some work over at Lynn and Pete’s house, so in the interest of extending the good right hand of friendship, I had to go over there today with a cooler of drinks and some sandwiches and snacks, and that was my big activity for the day. Plus I had to wash the dog and then there was dinner with Greg and the grocery store for me.

You see how time gets away from me. But I have SIX PACKS of steel wool and a new bucket of paint, so I’m poised to act just any second now!

When I came careening around the curve home this evening, I wondered what that white stuff on my lawn was. I checked the mail and parked the car and moseyed over there to look at it.

It seems as though the lid was off the clean-out valve near the street, and that white stuff appeared to be paper towels.

I didn’t want to get too close, having had encounters that didn’t end well with those things before so I stood on my tippy toes and peered down the pipe, where I could see some murky liquid about three feet from the top.

Now. I am an Aquarius, and I’m convinced that’s why I’ve sprained my ankle a bajillion times and I’m always having water incidents (and if I come to your house, you’ll probably have one shortly thereafter).

There was also a largish rock there that wasn’t there before. I know it wasn’t there before because a few weeks ago when I had that big leak in the bathroom (see! another water incident!), I spent a good bit of time walking to and fro past that thing.

Since I knew I hadn’t been here all day and the dog isn’t tall enough to flush the toilet or run the dishwasher, I thought I might better call the county water department, because it has been my very personal experience that these do not get better, they only get exponentially worse.

I expected my call to be an exercise in futility, but no. It was downright pleasant. I might call them again tomorrow, just to have somebody to talk to.

The gentleman on the phone was pleasant and knowledgeable and told me that he would send someone out to check on it and what time. And sure enough, they arrived at 10:30, another man knocked on the door to let me know they were working on it, and that they’d be out there for another 40 minutes.

And now they have fixed it and are gone. Just like the man on the phone promised. Just like what I pay for every month. I could not be more delighted.

Last Wednesday, Steve Jobs announced he was resigning as CEO of Apple.

The whole world, of course, knows that Steve Jobs has been ill, so it’s no surprise that he resigned, but it’s still a shock.

I’ve always used Macs, and I am such a frequenter of the Apple store that they know me.

Several years ago, I had an encounter with the man himself. I (fortunately) didn’t know it until it was too late. Here is the story of that meeting.

10 December 2002, 10:14 ayem

I, of course, am mortified. I was ON. I was really on. The sales staff had come to a complete stop and were just watching the whole thing unfold. I was all but tapdancing while delivering my comedy routine. Thank the lloyd I was wearing my lipstick.

I maintain I would have recognized him if he’d been wearing his standard black mock turtleneck and jeans and running shoes, but he wasn’t. He was wearing a striped oxford and khakis and loafers. I bet he had to borrow that get-up from somebody.

Even crazier was that I was wearing jeans and a black mock turtleneck and running shoes, it being winter.

Of all the famous people I’ve managed to have long conversations with, I put him right at the top of the genius list. I would give just about anything to be able to talk to him in person again and tell him how much I appreciate how he has changed the way the world goes around. I hope that however much time he has left is just glorious.

During the upcoming election season, if anyone brings up politics, I am going to ignore them.

If they press me for an opinion or an argument, I am going to say, “I don’t discuss politics and religion. Let’s talk about your sex life.”

I will express my only opinion here: Michele Bachmann needs to draw some eyebrows on. I said the same thing about Dick Gephardt.

That is all.

If you bank at Wells Fargo, you are a lucky, lucky person.

In fact, if you bank at any number of banks, you are blessed beyond all reasonable belief.

But let me tell you why you’re lucky today.

Today, I and millions of other Very Fortunate Wells Fargo hostages got notices that as of October 14, we will be charged $3 per month to use our debit and ATM cards.

Just to make sure you know what I mean, that’s twelve quarters to use your debit card or ATM card to make purchases or get cash. To get your cash and buy things with your money. That you put in the bank in the first place.

Three quarters will get you a Snickers bar out of most vending machines. Two quarters will buy you a newspaper. Four quarters will wash a load of clothes down at the laundromat; four more will dry that same load. All twelve of those quarters will almost buy a gallon of gasoline.

Wells Fargo is calling this a convenience fee. I, however, do not find it convenient to give them three of my dollars to get at my money.

Here is the actual notice:

A monthly $3 Debit Card Activity Fee** will be charged to your checking account for purchases or payments (including recurring payments) made on or after October 14, 2011, using any debit or ATM card linked to your Wells Fargo checking account. This fee applies in any monthly statement cycle when you make at least one purchase (U.S. or international) using any debit card linked to your account. (The use of a Wells Fargo or Wachovia ATM is not a purchase or payment.)

The good news is you get to pay the fee whether you make one transaction or a thousand, so knock yourself out. Want to pay for each item in the grocery store individually? Please do so. Twenty dollars a day at your ATM? Pitch a pup tent and make yourself at home!

You can avoid the fees altogether by keeping your “free” checking account, secured in the first place by having your paycheck automatically deposited (thus making sure you never see actual money) by going back to paper checks. Maybe that will have the added benefit of putting a kibosh on the self-check at grocery stores once and for all.

I, personally, being a hundredaire of great influence, am taking my twenties and going to a credit union.

I am also going to write my congressthangs and thank them profusely for this special treat for my pocketbook. I encourage you to do the same – I know they will be delighted to hear from each and every one of their constituents. Then I’m going to vote for their sorry asses to go home at the end of this term.

Raquel Nelson has decided to seek a retrial, and now is the time for her supporters to act.

Our next step is to write the solicitor general, Barry Morgan, and ask him to drop his case against her, as it is within his power to do.

Here is his contact information:

Solicitor General Barry Morgan
10 East Park Square Suite 300
Marietta, GA 30090-9638

If you will write a letter and email it to me at

writeforraquel@gmail.com

I will print your letter and put it with the others that come to me and drive them directly to her defense team and see that they are placed in the hand of Mr. Morgan.

Steve Sadow has taken this case pro bono, but the legal costs have been overwhelming, and there are still fees to be paid for. If you feel able to contribute to her legal defense fund, you may do so at any Chase branch in the country.

I have asked a lot of all of you in the last several weeks regarding this, and I appreciate the overwhelming the response from each of you in Ms. Nelson’s support.

Ms. Nelson is a good, good person, and so is her aunt, Loretta Williams, who I have been speaking with regularly. They have both shown such grace under such hard circumstances, and I also thank you on their behalf.

With your help, this will soon be behind Raquel, and she and her children can pick up the pieces and resume their lives.

Keep those cards and letters pouring in.

I have only been to 27% of the the 50 states. I know because I just counted.

The average lifespan is 28,470 days.

I have already burned through about 16,620 of mine.

I better get crackin’.

This morning, I was greeted with the news that Fantasia is pregnant. She hasn’t named the father, but she has been with Antwaun Cook.

I do not have even a nodding acquaintance with either of these people and you probably don’t either.

Maybe I’m just in a lousy mood today, or maybe I’m just generally a grouch, but I don’t see how this is news.

Look. I’m happy to know somebody, somewhere, is getting it, but I don’t want to know about it.

I long for the days when people kept their business to themselves.

For crying out loud, I miss the days when Britney Spears swore up one side and down the other she was a virgin and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth if anyone challenged her.

I look at Taylor Swift and think she is the worst kind of trash because she can’t seem to help but kiss and tell.

Maybe I’m the only person left in the world who remembers the concept of mixed company, and who adheres to the adage that a lady never shows her panties except on purpose.

Maybe I’m the only person left in the world who truly believes there are some things you just don’t talk about in front of all and sundry, and there are some things you just don’t ask others about.

Maybe I am the only person left in the world who understands that people get knocked up all the time and, if the father isn’t present or mentioned, it is incumbent upon the rest of us to assume he is at war and leave it at that.

Hell, maybe I’m just old.

As posted before, I’ve been painting the kitchen. Again.

But I’m done. Done, done, DONE.

Yesterday I had a startling burst of energy and decided it was time to get the paint spatters off the floor.

I am a messy painter. I should just dip a shirt in the bucket and get it over with. I drip it all over the place like I’m being paid to make it all spotted.

I stopped at Home Depot (also known as the place which has the money that should be in my nest egg) and told the man I needed a chemical that was harsh and possibly lethal to get up the paint that did not come up with ammonia the night before.

He tried to deter me, but I would not hear it. I wanted something that would melt a toilet, and I wanted it then.

Six dollars later I was home to get up my first drop of paint and melt the linoleum. Fortunately I tried it in an inconspicuous spot, because boy howdy that was some strong stuff.

I switched to a little chisel and CLR and the floor was just covered in hot water and very small areas of suds where I had paint drops soaking.

I was wearing deck shoes with siped soles, so I really didn’t think much about the water (what with my zeal to get up the paint and all).

I was busily scraping and talking on the phone with my brother, and you know what happens when you lean down and apply pressure in a downward, forward motion: you sort of push yourself backwards, which I did, only I didn’t just slide backward. Being topheavy, I also toppled forward onto my arthritic right knee.

Good thing I didn’t put my eye out with that tiny chisel in the ensuing melee.

What he said next was, “Oh, hell. Are you in the floor?” which is more compassionate than what I did when he fell off my porch.

My pride forced me to say, “Yeah, but I’m fine,” as I slid around the kitchen trying to get a purchase on something and get up.

Once I got off the phone and got up, I realized I was actually in quite a lot of pain and got out one of my two remaining bags of zipper peas from Daddy and put them on my knee.

I have an exceptionally high tolerance for pain, but my ears were ringing and I was seeing bluebirds and hotdogs. I considered taking myself over to the St. Joe’s ER for a short visit, but decided not to since I could wiggle my toes and all. Plus I didn’t think I could hold the gas pedal down all the way over there right then.

I couldn’t get comfortable when I went to bed. By about six this morning I was practically dead from the pain and exhaustion and my foot felt like it belonged on somebody else’s leg so I had some non-helpful Aleve.

Through sheer sounding pitiful I managed to get a work-in with my knee guy, who did say, “Jesus. I’d have gone to the ER.”

He gave me a shot of cortisone to “calm the area down” and if it’s still feeling like dead man’s foot in two weeks I have to have an MRI and see what’s torn. Meanwhile I have Ultram for if it’s awful, ice, and prayer.

I feel like a complete dork, but one thing is, most of my injuries are good for a laugh.

Raquel Nelson was sentenced on Tuesday.

It was not, as my friend Kate put it, a nice bouquet and a profuse apology, but it was pretty good: a year’s probation and $2000 in fines, suspended, plus 40 hours of community service, 20 of which are to be spent on child safety.

Or. Or she can have a new trial.

Her choice. Completely up to her.

A new trial means she could completely clear her name. Even misdemeanor vehicular homicide is murder’s ugly cousin.

She has 30 days to decide, and while her attorney says she’s going ahead with it, I’m not so sure. On the Today Show yesterday, she said that part of her just wants to put it behind her.

I wouldn’t blame her a bit. Of course, whatever she does, I will stand behind her, and I will be contributing to her legal defense fund, which you can do, too, at any Chase Bank branch.

She has been incredibly gracious and dignified throughout this whole mess, much more so than most people would have been able to be.

The prosecutor stated that her office never intended that she should go to jail, which begs the question then why did you prosecute? It seems like an egregious waste of taxpayer money and an old-fashioned shaming for somebody who’s already hurt enough to me.

That’s all I have to say about it, aside from please keep signing those petitions requesting that Governor Deal overturn her conviction, and if you can, please donate to the legal defense fund, because she needs all the help she can get. If I find out one way or the other what she’s going to do, I will certainly post it.