The Old, The Lonely, and The Crazy

So I'm back working at a public library for the first time in 16 years.  It's only been a few months, but one thing I've learned in that time is that public libraries have been become a refuge for The Old, The Lonely, or The Crazy.  (Often all three of those are found in one person.)  A large portion of my time is spent answering questions from people who don't have the google, have too much time on their hands, or want answers to things we can't possibly know. 

There's the old lady who will call 3 times in one evening shift for various random questions, and while I'm trying to answer the question will make a disgusting sucking sound with her teeth.  ("Will the robins or sparrows in my back yard migrate?" Um, there are 32 different kinds of sparrows, and I don't know which ones are in your back yard.)  When I answer her question, then she just wants to chat.  By now she knows my name, so she'll say, "Tim, you sound so young.  How old are you? You must be in your 20's!  No?  30's then?"   

There's the grumpy, crotchety old man who gets impatient if I take too long or ask any clarifying questions.  "Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, just answer the question!"  Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm trying to do, but I can't tell you who was "buried in African water" until I can define what "African water" means.  "Water!  You know what water means!  W-A-T-E-R!"  He'll point to the monitor and demand, "Just type it into the computer!"
 

There's the man who calls five times a day to ask what's on TV, and when we say, for example, that the show he wants is on NBC, he wants to know which number that is.  There are 14,000 different cable/satellite providers in Chicagoland, but he doesn't know which one he has.   

One guy called to tell me he saw a guy on the bus rubbing something into his neck and hands that had a menthol smell to it.  He wants to know what it was.  It wasn't medicinal (like Ben Gay), but he also wouldn't let me call it a "cologne."  It was a "scent."  He did not see the tube or bottle it came out of.  The closest thing I could find for him was something called Tiger Balm.  I suggested that maybe the next time he ask the guy what it is.   

+++++

For the second year in a row, on my birthday I've yelled at my sister Debbie on Facebook. I remember last year on my birthday being a crappy mood because I went off on her that her crazy rants about our president on FB were starting to sound like a confused old man yelling at an empty chair.    

 I've done a good job lately of avoiding political posts on FB and on this blog, but every once in a while they bubble up.  The recent one was when I heard about Republicans trying to defund Obamacare a week before the major part of it will be implemented.  This is ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag, since they have no chance of succeeding.  Obamacare is happening, and even Republicans admit that once it's fully implemented, it will be too hard to repeal because it will be too popular.  So they're clawing and scratching to sink it before it starts.  So I posted this on FB:

Imagine if we lived in a country where whole swaths of the population were NOT working as hard as they can to make our nation's first black president a failure. Imagine if they did what was best for our country and worked with him to make the most significant social program of our generation a success. Imagine if they simply stood out of the way and let his novel idea of providing health care to all Americans a chance to work. Because trying to defund a program before it's been fully implemented, and voting 40 times (!) to repeal a law that's not going away, and states refusing to participate in a program whose sole purpose is to keep your citizens healthy, well, you just look like an obstinate dick who cares more about your side winning than your country succeeding.      

I won't re-hash the whole thing here, but let's just say my sister Debbie (and her husband Denny, which I suspect was Debbie also, accidentally logged into his account, because she's as confused about using FB as she is about politics) and I got into another raging political debate, which left me in a bad mood about my ignorant fundamentalist sister.  

+++++

Yesterday one of our reference assistants referred a question to me.  I was supposed to call this guy back who had a grammar question about "pass tense (sic.)"  So, armed with books and websites about English past tense rules, I called the patron.

He tells me that he's trying to write a radio ad, but he's not sure if his use of past and present tense is correct.  He tries to explain it, but then he says, "Let me just read what I have written, and you'll see what I'm talking about."

He has a lovely deep radio voice, so I'm a little taken aback when he starts reading,  "Barack starts his study of socialism and marxist propaganda under ...."

His question is about past and present tense, but the subject matter immediately makes me tense.   

My hackles are raised.  The 60-second radio spot is a total hack job on Obama and his "socialist agenda."  At one point it mentions Obama's previous job as a community organizer as a front for socialist propaganda.

As he's reading this, I look at the website that I had open about using past tense:  http://www.englishpage.com/verbpage/simplepast.html. Here are the examples they use on this page:

• You called Debbie.
• Did you call Debbie?
• You did not call Debbie.

Is the Universe mocking me?  First I have this fight with my sister Debbie on FB, then this nutjob on the phone is reading me his Obama attack ad, while I'm looking at sample sentences with my sister's name?

In the end, the guy didn't need any authoritative grammar sources.  He just needed me to confirm for him that if he uses present tense throughout the whole ad, it does indeed sound weird to switch to past tense for the last part.  I made no comments whatsoever about the content of his ad.  I'm a professional, after all.     

Goldilocks and The Three Roofing Estimates

Our new house needs a new roof.  We knew this when we bought it, and the inspector said it had to be done soon.  (Since I didn't have a new job yet when we bought it, and we weren't married at the time, and I still own my other house, Katherine bought this house on her own.  Since she bought me a house, I said that I would pay for the roof by myself.  It also means I can I say I put a roof over our heads.)

Roof Over Your Head Day?  Seriously?

So I called three roofing companies to get estimates.

The first was a local company with a really good reputation.  They made a scant, cursory inspection the roof without ever consulting with me.  The estimate was not very descriptive, just a short paragraph. And the price was $3000 more than the others.

The first estimate was too cold

The second guy was so friendly and personable on the phone I thought, "Wow, he sounds like he'd be pleasant to work with."  He came over for the estimate, and he was very chatty.  We learned that we're both the youngest of five children, and that his name is Dan with a brother named Tim.  My name is Tim with a brother named Dan!  He walked all through my house, looking in the attic and the basement, helping me to figure out where a leak in the basement might be coming from.  He kept commenting on things that have nothing to do with the roof, and made suggestions about products I should buy.  Then he went up on the roof and rooted around there for like 30 minutes.  He came back inside and sat down with me at the dining room table and continued to talk at me for another half an hour.  By this time Katherine had to go into work, so I had to say goodbye to her while this guy continued to talk.  He kept telling me not to believe all the "smoke and mirrors" that roofers are going to give me.  About how the warranties are really useless.  And then told me all about his warranties.  He spoke at length about "synthetic roofing underlayment," which is supposed to be way superior to the traditional felt underlay.  (Afterwards I looked it up, and it seems like the biggest advantage to the synthetic stuff is that it's easier to install.  Which doesn't concern me, because I'm not putting it on myself anyway. That's what I'm paying the roofer to do.)

So after the guy finally left I was so annoyed with him that I thought I don't even want to work with him even if he gives me the best estimate.  He was trying way too hard to be chummy, and was also trying way too hard to prove to me how much better he was than the other roofers.

When the estimate did come, it was addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Tim Mylastname."  Uh, what is this, 1950?  The estimate itself was two pages long, with tons of optional add-ons.

The third company had a guy come out, he got a little bit of information, talked to me for maybe five minutes, went up on the roof, then told me he'd send an estimate.  The estimate was lower than the others, with three options for differently-priced shingles, and two options for add-ons (new gutters and/or a new chimney.)  All of this seemed very reasonable.  It wasn't too much information and it wasn't too little.  It was just right.

+++++

When I called the third company to tell them I wanted to go with them, the guy was very friendly and happy we'd chosen them.  He came over again to discuss shingles and a schedule and to get the deposit, and when I asked him about the other guy's explanation for the leak in the basement, he said the other guy was absolutely wrong.  So, there's also that.  He made one comment about my collection of beer bottles in the basement, but not in a desperate, stalkery, trying-to-hard-to-be-my-friend way like the other roofer.  He was the kind of guy I'd like to do business with: competent, trustworthy, and not getting all up in my business. 

My bottle collection, tastefully admired by my new roofer

              

Drama on the Bathroom Floor

You know that scene in that movie where a spouse collapses in their partner's arms-- maybe it's a from a heart attack, or a stroke, or a stray bullet-- and the spouse cradles them in their arms and cries "Noooooooooo!  Stay with me, Flavio!!!!"  ?

That was me.

On the one full day between our wedding weekend and our honeymoon-- a valley between two major peak events in my life-- I lay on the bathroom floor, cradling my new bride's limp body in my arms and freaking the fuck out.  "Oh God, Oh God, Katherine!  Wake up!"  I yelled as she spewed vomit all over herself, her eyes rolling back in her head.  In that instant the entirety of the rest of my life flashed before me, and I saw myself as the tragic widower whose wife dies two days after the wedding, the day before the honeymoon.

For that brief terrifying moment, I was in a Lifetime Movie of the Week.

Miraculously (or not, as I would find out later), she woke up. She had no idea where she was, and said, "Tim?"  She didn't know why she was sitting on the bathroom floor and covered in goo.

+++++

Let's back up.  On the day before our honeymoon, when we had a bajillion things to do, we were just finishing up laundry when Katherine started to get an upset stomach.  She had to lie down.  Half an hour later I found her hunched over the bathroom sink, throwing up.  She had not thrown up since she was 15 years old, about 19 years ago, so it was pretty traumatic for her.

She went into the kitchen to recover and I cleaned up the mess.  Half an hour later she was feeling bad again, and went back into the bathroom.  I was all prepared to hold her hair as she "called Earl on the big white telephone", but before it happened, she told me she felt numb.  Then she went limp in my arms and fell to the floor.  I was there to catch her, but when she started vomiting while unconscious, I thought she was having a seizure or something.  I'd heard of people dying when they choked on their own vomit, so I tried to turn her on her side.    

When she regained consciousness I called an ambulance, and then called her parents and talked to her brother (who was still in town for the wedding), who is a doctor, and he asked me a bunch of diagnostic questions.  He did not think it was anything serious like a stroke or seizure.  The paramedics came, and when we told them that we were leaving for Iceland the next morning, they recommended we go to the hospital.  So we did.

After five hours of tests, IVs, observation, and anti-nausea medication, we were given the green light to return home and leave on our trip the next morning.  They hadn't found anything significantly wrong with her.  She just threw up and passed out.  It happens.

We came home at 9pm.  The laundry still needed to be put away, the bed needed to be made, and we had not yet started packing for an 8-day trip.  And we had to get up at 5:30 the next morning.  (When I was in the hospital I tried to postpone our flight for a day, but that would have cost more than the original tickets.)  Exhausted from the day's events, Katherine lay on the bed and directed me around the room to pack her stuff.

But we got everything together, left on our trip, and had a great time.  (More on that later.)  Katherine took anti-nausea medication for the first few days we were there, but otherwise she was fine.  She did, however, have to eat things that were light on her stomach the first day.

Her meal on the plane

++++++    

Back to that movie scene.  As I was freaking out, cradling my wife's limp body on the bathroom floor, I wondered if this was one of those fork-in-the-road moments, when your life splits off into two very different destinies.  In one direction was the horrible horrible fate of losing the love of my life after two days of wedded bliss.  Of trying to put things back together right after I'd just started a new life. 

In the other direction was a short 5-hour detour to the emergency room.  What if, in that moment of decision, my life was paused and I was offered a choice?  Or I had to make some sort of cosmic deal?  And because of that deal or choice, I was sent back into the world with a different or alternative ending?  Katherine woke up, and I got to resume the trajectory my life had been on.

This is all very supernatural or science-fictiony, and I don't know how much I believe in it, but if you subscribe to the infinite universes theory, then somewhere there is a parallel universe where I did witness my bride's death on that bathroom floor.

In truth, she was never close to dying.  She just passed out from throwing up.  It's actually pretty common, according to the doctors.  It was just my panic and anxiety in the moment that made it feel like a much more dramatic scene that it was.  

And yay for that. 

Wedding Toast

So I'm married now.  (Again.)

The wedding weekend was amazing.  On Friday, it wasn't until after the rehearsal picnic was over that I realized how much fun I'd been having.  It's always a good sign when you're so distracted by your fun that you're not even aware of it.

So often, when there's a huge life event that you've been planning and looking forward to for a really long time, there's some letdown.  Some part of it doesn't live up to your expectations and you get disappointed.  For example, during dinner I noticed the carrots were just regular boring old steamed carrots, most definitely NOT maple-glazed carrots we had ordered. 

Do you see a glaze on these?

I said to Katherine, "Now the whole wedding is RUINED!"  My protestations might have had more gravitas if I hadn't made that same complaint several times already.  Katherine asked, "How many times has the wedding been ruined now?"

But on the whole, there were no serious letdowns. This may have more to do with not having too many specific expectations, but I can honestly say my wedding day was one of the best days of my life.

+++++

We planned and orchestrated our own ceremony-- with music, readings, and vows we'd written ourselves.  In addition to our vows, Katherine wanted to write some remarks that I wouldn't hear before the ceremony, and so to reciprocate I had to write something myself.  (So she gave me some homework for the wedding. She is a teacher, after all.)    

We decided not to include our "remarks"(as it's listed in the program) during the ceremony, but to give them during the reception, after dinner but before dessert, as a way to start off any toasts that people might want to make.

Here is what I wrote:

Katherine and I walk at the same speed.  I don’t mean this metaphorically.  We literally walk side by side at the same pace.  Neither of us has to slow down for the other, nor do we have to speed up to stay with the other one.  We walk together. 

I’ve always been a fast walker.  When I’m in a crowd, or caught on the sidewalk behind someone, 90% of the time they are going too slow for me.  Even kids half my age will amble along, slowing me down, and I’ll think, “Why are they going so sloooow? They’re young and spry!”  At my first opportunity I will try to pass them so I can resume my regular walking speed.

So it was quite a delight for me when I discovered that Katherine is another fast walker.  Not only do we both enjoy walking, but we match each other’s gait.   Whether we’re hiking in the woods, exploring a neighborhood, discovering a new city on vacation, or just going for a stroll after dinner, we keep up with each other.  We zip pass the slow people together and continue our brisk pace.   Katherine neither slows me down nor pushes me.  And vice-versa.   

 I’m being literal, but there is an obvious metaphor here.  It’s important to find a life partner who moves at the same speed.  To be “on the same page,” if I may mix a metaphor. In general, we have the same values and want the same things out of life.  We both love spreadsheets, the outdoors, books, cats, and travel.  

Although Katherine and I often move at the same speed, the metaphor does not extend to every part of our lives.  We don’t agree on everything.  I watch too much TV for her tastes, and she is way more focused on dessert than I am.   I am a morning person, and she... is not.  (I learned early on not to try to have conversations during breakfast.)  And we disagreed a lot while we were unpacking in our new home.  (My position: we have too many things.  Her position: We need more space.)  

One thing I’ve learned from other successful married couples is that dealing with and resolving differences is a valuable skill.  The successful couple is not one that never disagrees, but that knows how to resolve conflict with good communication and compromise.  After planning several vacations and a wedding together, I’m confident that Katherine and I are quick learners in this area.

I used to think that what I wanted in a wife was someone who was a Good Person.  (Capital G, capital P, “Good Person.”)  But what I’ve learned, and heard many other people offer this same advice, is that a good partner is not measured by their qualities alone, but by the person you become when you’re with them.  Katherine makes me a better person.  I’m more patient, tolerant, and calm around her.   She’s a teacher, and she’s good at inspiring me to try harder.  When we do get (metaphorically) out of synch, she will either slow me down or push me to walk a little faster, depending on the situation.  And I do the same for her.   

Several different members of my family have remarked lately about how happy and relaxed I seem around Katherine.    I didn’t realize it was that obvious, but I do know I’m a lot happier now with her in my life. 

I think my whole life I’ve been anxious because I had a lot of nervous energy, and now I’m relieved to have finally found someone who takes me on regular walks, and keeps up with me.  

So I’d like to toast my new wife and walking partner, Lady Katherine of Evanston. Where ever the path leads in our new life together, I will be right there next to you.

Still Here, or There, or Somewhere

Sorry, Timblog, that I have been so horribly neglectful of you lately.  Things have been too whirlwindy to devote much attention to you.  I moved, started a new job, unpacked, got married, and went on a honeymoon.

Lots of good things are happening.  After an amazing wedding weekend that exceeded all expectations, I had started a short post about it. We only had one day to recover, regroup, and pack for our honeymoon.  Late in the afternoon, right before we were going to start packing for an 8am flight the next morning, we were delayed by a scary trip to the emergency room.  Everything turned out fine and we were sent home five hours later, but we didn't start packing til 9pm.

After much haste and precaution, we made our flight.  Now we're in Iceland having lots of adventures. Today I experienced some of the most gorgeously breathtaking scenic vistas of my life, and it shows me just how shitty a camera is compared with your eyes, because none of pictures I took capture the amazingness of being here. Sigh.  I guess that's why we visit places instead of just looking at pics.

 I will post about the wedding, the ER scare, and our Iceland adventures soon. Stay tuned...

Address Change Day

In my last three days off as a bachelor, I had four separate to-do lists.  On one of those lists was a sub-list of places to change my address and/or cancel my service.  I accomplished most of this sub-list yesterday, which turned into Address Change Day. 

If you ever get an announcement like this from me, just shoot me in the head, because I've been invaded by body snatchers.

For the most part, things went smoothly.  My cable company, trash collector, bank, credit cards, Netflix, and post office were all easy and pain-free.  There were two snags, however.

When I tried to cancel my phone, the lady on the other end tried to talk me into freezing the account instead of cancelling it.  It's internet (VoIP) phone, so although I'm moving, I could take the service with me.  But I said that I'm moving in with someone who already has a phone, so I don't need to take the account with me. The lady said I could put my account on hold, and then if I decide to use this company again, I could re-activate the account without paying any activation fees.  Ok, that sounded good, so I agreed.

Then the lady explained that although freezing the account is no charge, I do have to pay $6 a month tax on it.  Uh, no thanks.  If it costs money, I'll just close the account.  Oh, she said, but I have a $20 credit, so the first three months would already be paid.  This is when I got a little testy.  "No, I'm not paying taxes for something I'm not using.  I said I'd just like to cancel the account."

She put me on hold for about 10 minutes, and then when she came back, she said, "Okay, your phone will be disconnected today...."

What the what?  When did I say I wanted to cancel it immediately?  "Um, no, not today.  You never asked me when I'd like to cancel it.  I still need it for the next week.  Can you cancel it at the end of the month?"

She tells me sure, she can cancel it at the end of the month.  All I need to do is call back then and they'll cancel it.

Let me get this straight.  You don't have a service where I request that you cancel an account at some predetermined date in the future? 

She put me on hold again, and then came back several minutes later.  She could cancel my service at the end of the billing cycle, which is July 15.  "That's fine," I say, conscious of the fact that I've been kind of a dick at times during the call.  It's two more weeks than I need, but whatever. 

Phone successfully cancelled (?)

+++++
    
My insurance company caught me completely off-guard.  Since I was out running errands, and my agent's office was nearby, I stopped in to make a quick change.  I just wanted to report my new address so they would send my bi-annual bills to my new house.  I have both car and home insurance with this company.

When I said that my house would be vacant after I moved, the nice lady I met with said, "[Our company] won't insure a vacant house, so let's not tell them you're moving.  Let's just say you're going to keep it as a second home."

What the what?  They don't insure vacant homes?  I need insurance for my mortgage.  Where am I supposed to get insurance if not from a company I've been with for 20 years?  I kept trying to ask this question, and the lady kept repeating that we wouldn't tell them I was moving permanently.  That's not the point.

If I weren't white or innocent-looking or clean-cut, would she be giving me all this wink, wink, nudge, nudge special treatment?  How can they simply not insure my home, when they've been doing it for four years?  Where the hell are honest people who can't sell their house supposed to get insurance?

It left me kind of baffled, and frankly, pissed off.  When the lady found out I was getting married, she was all, "Oh, congratulations!"  Then she started asking me stuff about my fiance, like what her name was, and writing it down.  "Is that spelled with a K or a C?" 

"Uh, why do you need that?"  I asked.

She said, "I'll just put it in my notes."

Uh, no, you won't.  This is creeping me out.  All I want to do is change my address for billing purposes. And if your company is going to continue to be assholes about this, you'll lose my account, and the potential account for our new house and my fiance's car, also.        


++++

But other than that, it was a successful Address Change Day. 

The Next Time I Think I Suck...

Since I am resigning from the job I've had for 10 years, I had to send out an email to all the faculty at my college, letting them know that I'm leaving and that my position may be vacant for a while. Among other things I said:

If you have used my services for library instruction or sent students my way for reference questions, there will be a new person at the Reference Desk starting this summer. The committee is still in the process of filling the position, but I’m sure whoever they hire will do a great job of providing reference and instruction. (But feel free to remind the new person, “That’s not how Tim did it” as much as possible. :) ) 

The response I've received has been overwhelming. By my count, 28 people have responded (so far) to wish me well. But it's not only the number of responses, but the things they've said that has me feeling pretty good about myself. Some samples:

We are going to miss you Tim! 

You will be missed a lot. 

Congrats Tim on your new job, but you will be sorely missed here 

We will miss you! 

We will miss you. I always looked forward to your presentation in my Eng[lish] class. You were so good at explaining everything to the students and making them feel welcome to come to the library. 

Don’t goooooooooooooooo………. 

We will miss you and your expertise in helping our students--and us as well. Thank you for your diligence and professionalism with our students and best wishes in your new position. [Strangely, I don't remember ever working with this person.  They're the only one who responded where I thought, "Who is that?"] 

Congratulations Tim, working with you through the years has been a pleasure. The library will NOT be the same without you! ... And just to be clear: NO ONE....and I mean NO ONE will draw a stick person representation of themselves during a library presentation that even comes CLOSE to yours! 

I have enjoyed working with you and always enjoyed seeing you as I made my many trips through the [library]. 

Thanks for your help every time I sent a student to you or I had a question. Your smiling face will be missed and I'll be sure to remind the new person of that!!! 

It has been a true pleasure working with you at [My College.] I first remember you when I started teaching as an adjunct and the offices were in the upper level of the “old” [library]. You were ALWAYS so kind and friendly to me and as a newbie I truly appreciated it. This act of kindness has continued through the years and I will always remember you! 

Thanks for being such a great colleague--helpful, interested and interesting, always ready to share a laugh--I will miss you! 

Any time I feel like I suck and no one likes me and I might was well eat worms, I should come back and read this post.