Sense of Adventure » Friends

Small victories

Victor — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 04:24:52 +0000

… are small. But victories withal.

And in the context of today, not necessarily so small.

It got off to a less than optimal start when I woke up after too little sleep, and couldn’t go back to sleep. Managed to get some rewriting done. Also watched much of the endless World Cup final.

Every four years I watch match after match of the World Cup with a sort of horrid fascination, trying to figure out how to enjoy soccer. Once again, it didn’t work. Ah, well: at least one of the two countries from which the majority of my ancestors hailed was certain to win. And one-half beat one-quarter.

Anyway, after Spain finally scored a goal at the end of overtime, I no longer had an excuse not to tackle the Awful Sewer Problem. Which I suppose is redundant. What other kind of sewer problem could there be?

To make it quick and dirty, the job was dirty, but not quick. At last I surrendered, having succeeded, so far as I could ascertain, in doing no more than tangling the snake and getting sewage on me.

Oh. I got hot and sweaty, too. Can’t omit that.

In that state, I came in, cleaned up as best as I could, and called Larry, who’d lent me the snake, for guidance in how to use the damn thing. I’d already looked the problem up on the Internet (if you didn’t see that coming, you don’t know me) and found instructions sufficient so that I .., Failed not quite so Epically.

Larry hadn’t known I was trying to unclog the outside line. The snake was probably too skinny for the four-inch pipe and would uselessly double back on itself, he told me. Great.

At this point such friends as were aware of my plight once again me awed and earned my gratitude by rallying to my aid. Knowing I am not in the happiest financial circumstances, Larry called some people he knows for recommendations on cheap, reliable, sewer-unpluggers. My best friend Joe actually tried (without success) to get a day off to help me.

And after reading about my plight on Twitter, Albuquerque SF writer Steve Gould, who’s been mentioned here before, kindly offered to lend me his sewer snake. He said it would work better than what I had, and probably solve my problem.

Unfortunately he immediately fell afoul of what I eventually dubbed No Way This Doesn’t Sound Suggestive Theater when he prefaced his generous offer by Tweeting, “I have a stiff fifty-footer.” Being the sort of man I am (a smartass) I promptly accused him of bragging.

But I, like the sewage, was still stuck. Also tired and discouraged. When I start missing too much sleep my morale seriously sags, which I guess need not surprise us. So I went and took a bath, figuring that wouldn’t be too odious bubbling up the backyard. Relatively. And also because, fuck it.

After the bath, which included a too-brief nap, I felt … not so aggressively awful sounds more accurate than better. But I did smell better.

After drying off I got dressed and wandered in the backyard to assess the new damage, or floodage, inspired I suppose by morbid curiosity as much as anything else.

And lo, the water level was. Low, that is. In fact it had dropped back into its accustomed place in the pipe, instead of halfway up the cutout.

Hmm, thought I.

I went back inside and flushed the toilet. Rushing back out I peered down the cutout. And damned if the water wasn’t flowing placidly along the bottom of the pipe, as Gods intended.

So: holy crap, it worked! I’m not sure how. But I’m not complaining.

And now: still tired. Not going to get anything else useful accomplished today, except getting to sleep at a useful damn hour. But there’s the sweet warm feeling of win, and the equally sweet absence of the clogged sewer hanging over my head. (Not a mixed metaphor. You’re welcome for the visual.)

And I need to get crunching. The sewer thing’s been a distraction as well as time and energy sink. And I have much to do.

Tomorrow I’ll get up and kick ass. Damn straight.

Update, 10:41 PM – well, hell. Heard the unwelcome gurgle from beneath the bathtub and went out to find washing-machine drainage gushing into the yard. Not welcome.

I’m more perplexed than discouraged. The drain was flowing freely earlier; it handled the full bathtub contents without a hiccup.

When I called him to tell him the good news, Joe suggested there was a chance whatever was obstructing the pipe might hang up again somewhere down the line. This may have happened. He suggested running the hose down the cutout for a while to flush the line.

I got creative and decided to run a load of laundry instead.

So – we shall see. I’m not despairing yet. If the new (?) blockage persists I can always run Larry’s snake down it again o the off chance. And I can always go borrow Steve’s 50-foot stiff one.

Fingers crossed the continuing laundry drainage will resolve this…

The cake is not a lie

Victor — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 05:45:15 +0000

But I couldn’t have any of it, anyway.

Worse, there was flan. Flan! Didn’t have any of that, either. At least I have the gratification of knowing I preserved the sanctity of my blood sugar.

The bleak, cold, rocky-souled, Puritanical gratification. If one might call it that.

Went to a friend’s birthday party at Los Equipales restaurant (thanks, Roslee!) (And also, Happy Birthday!) Bunch of the usual ASFS suspects were on hand. Please accept my apologies that I don’t have energy to try to list you all. It was good to see you all. Food was good, too.

Then I came home to discover my pal Larry had left his sewer snake on my porch (thanks, Larry!) Sounds freakin’ awful, don’t it? But I was glad to see it. That … snake.

I’d asked him for help because my damn sewer is backing up, which was also a reason I was down but not out the other day.

So, I know what I’m doing tomorrow.

Lord Larry comes through!

Victor — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 20:34:14 +0000

So I’m looking at Big Changes in my life. Many of which entail pushing my writing (and this blog) a lot more widely and relentlessly.

My friend Larry has long been my Number One Go-To Geek. Recently he decided it was time to boot me in the fanny in just the direction mentioned above. Not content with offering a raft of wonderful suggestions – which will largely be implemented, in the fullness of time – he actually provided me a step by step process for adding links whereby you could buy my books through my Amazon.com associates store.

You can see the result over there on the sidebar to the right. Thank you, Larry.

As time and energy permit I’ll fiddle with the site some more to similar purpose. I intend to add “What I’m Reading Now” and other “recommended purchase” links.

Also: in the Meta category we have links to the Posts and Comments RSS feeds. Please click on ‘em and sign up to get notified automatically of new stuff on the site: no need to miss a single syllable of refulgent wit or wisdom. Or whatever.

As I’ve mentioned before, Momentous Tidings are on their way. Stay tuned…

And thanks, always and ever, for reading my books and this blog!

Holy cats!

Victor — Mon, 19 May 2008 23:46:10 +0000

Or maybe, not so holy.

Just went out, daring the early rush hour traffic, to do a little grocery shopping. Coming out of the store I saw a headline on the local paper about an “animal” attacking a local boy in the Sandias. The unspecified “animal” reference intrigued me; looking a little closer (which sadly entails my reading glasses – they’re a reason I wear ‘em constantly on a lanyard around my neck when out and about in the world) I saw that while the parents claimed it had been a big cat, “authorities” discounted the possibility it was a cougar.

Whoa! A mystery cat sighting of Burque’s own? Not to mention an actual attack?

Here’s MSNBC on the subject; for a local report, go here.

Yes, you can just about be sure that if NM catches national ink – and especially international – it involves something discreditable.

NM Game and Fish has narrowed their scope to a bobcat, a cougar, or a small bear. Yet it claims the injuries match none of them. Indeed.

It’s most likely a bobcat, although I know of no previous bobcat attacks on humans. But we never know. And of course the official explanation may or may not bear any resemblance to the truth…

Just another day in NM. That’s why I love it here. Well, not kids getting eaten; that’s a Bad Thing – although the child appears to’ve pulled through. What I love is that something goofy or weird is always going on.

In other news: I’m hoping to get the swamp cooler – evaporative air conditioning: it’s a desert thing – going before the pets and I melt. The problem: I’m terrified to go on my roof.

Back in the old days, when both the roof and the swamper were old, decrepit, and terrible, I knew no fear. Well, except when the New Mexico wind (ever helpful!) blew the ladder down in the backyard whilst I was on the roof, to the boundless amusement of my dogs. Nowadays I always take my cell phone aloft with me. Then again, nowadays I have a cell phone…

A few years back – I guess three, now – I got a brand new roof, the neat red metal one I’d been craving (actually I craved blue, but red is good. Especially when it’s affordable) along with a new fancy swamp cooler. And now that both roof and A/C are high-tech and awesome I’m scared to Frippin’* go up there because the wonderful metal pitched roof is slippery as glass. Sigh. I’ve been trying to prevail on my excellent friend Larry, who navigates the roof far better, or at least more insouciantly, than I, to help. He’s been tied up.

Isn’t that the actual definition of selfishness? When people refuse to lay aside their personal interests in favor of your personal interests? Well, of course it’s not the official definition. And – have you ever known anyone to accuse you, or anyone else, of selfishness when that wasn’t the case? I never have. That’s why my eyes narrow when I hear or read the word. And I never use it other than parodically.

Anyway – Larry can tend to his own business with my blessings. He’s gone above and beyond to help me in the past. As I’ve said, I’m blessed with wonderful friends. (Actually my fingers typed fiends. And I was really tempted to leave it, you may imagine.)

*Not to be confused with “Eno’ing.” (= ridiculously obscure 1970s prog-rock joke.)

In which Emma gets Goodies

Victor — Sat, 10 May 2008 08:33:44 +0000

I’m fortunate enough to have some really wonderful friends. Some even go so far as to extend their friendship to Emma Dog. Unless it’s the other way around.

When the group goes out together to restaurants Emma’s Aunt Kathy (Kelly-Kubica) and Aunt Roslee (Orndorff) are especially thoughtful in donating meat scraps for me to take to Emma. Which is very sweet of them, and much appreciated by Emma. And me.

So tonight – technically yesterday evening, now – as threatened I attended the monthly ASFS meeting to hear Ian Tregillis read from Bitter Seeds, the WWII “secret history” novel he just delivered to Tor. As I was going in I was hailed by Kathy. She’d been out to dinner before the meeting, and had actually got a doggie box to bring scraps for Emma. It was just incredibly nice of her. She even brought a baked potato for my compost heap, which is going above and beyond.

It was a great reading, very well received. The book’s going to be killer.

After the meeting several of us (Roslee, who’s a nurse, had to work and didn’t make it out tonight) went by Craig’s house while he prepared some packets for art-show participants. Then we headed over to the Applebee’s on Menaul. There Kathy got another steak (she’s on a reduced-carb diet), and darned if she didn’t send another box o’ scraps home to Emma. So she’s set up for the next few days. A happy dog indeed.

As we headed out to the cars Kathy suggested I check the box she had given me. “Emma won’t much like it if you bring home a box full of broccoli,” she said. “She’ll look at you, like, ‘Why don’t you love me?’ ” And she pulled an appropriately mournful face.

I cracked up. She gave a great impression of a dolorous dog. We’ve all seen that face come out on dogs. It was even funnier to me because Emma has such a great face for lugubrious looks.

Oddly, though, that’s not really Emma’s style. She doesn’t seem much inclined to doubt I love her. I think she’d more likely give me a, “What did I do wrong, Daddy?” look. And possibly repair to her pen.

I’ve got great friends. After the reading, when people were hanging out and talking, three of my closest friends – Kathy, Melinda, and Pat Rogers – wound up standing near me to chat. And it really struck me how fortunate I was to have three such remarkable (not to mentioned disparate) women as friends.