For the most part, I usually think Ikea rocks. It's just a fun place, some decent stuff, reasonable prices. In addition, I've also been impressed with the emphasis they put on reducing waste, using recyclable materials, etc. But they are testing my love at the moment.
I have a glass-top table that MD and I bought there when we moved in together. The glass was an unfortunate victim in my move to Regent Square, and replacing it has finally moved to the top of my long to-do list. I figured it wouldn't be a big deal; Ikea probably just has a parts replacement system and I can buy a new top for it.
Nope.
I have to buy a whole new table. I've talked to people at the store, people on the phone, people on the customer service "live chat" thing, and sent them an email. The table top is packaged and handled separately; the infrastructure is entirely in place for them to sell just the top, but they just won't do it. I'm a little irritated about the cost, but really, why force people to waste perfectly good furniture pieces? Considering that most of their stuff is in pieces, I'm very surprised and disappointed that they don't have a better parts-replacement system.
Oh, and they do have another line of glass table tops that you can buy seperately, but in one direction it is 3/4" off in length. Really? How hard would it be to make them the same size??
It's still cheaper for me to buy the whole new table than to get replacement glass from a different store, so I'm going to do it. But I'm just going to leave the base at the store--I'll be damned if I'm going to deal with the hassle of getting rid of an extra table base, and I'm sure as hell not going to just throw it out.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Dave Comes to Regent Square
Surprise, surprise, a fair amount of explanation for a small bit of fact, but it's an important bit to me so I don't care.
Some backstory for the benefit of those unfamiliar with Dave, a friend of ours from the restaurant. He ate at Pamela's just about every day and was simultaneously a voice of wisdom and a good-natured troublemaker; he was our Yoda. Sadly, Dave died in May 2006 after a yearlong fight with cancer.
After he died, MD and I each got to pick out photos from a huge collection of ones that he had taken and his wife had mounted; we each picked two. In the old apartment we had all four photos hanging together. When I moved, I took the two that I had picked, and have been trying to decide where to hang them. There were spots in my TV nook that I liked, but I have candles around there and I was very afraid of the heat damaging them. Nowhere else in the place has really felt right for them, so they remained unhung.
Last night I was lighting the aforementioned candles, and just happened to look up at the panel of wall up above the TV nook, and for the first time noticed two nails already in the wall. They are positioned perfectly to hang the two photos, one of which is tall and thin, the other short and wide. As far as I've seen, they are the only two nails left over from a previous tenant in any wall in the apartment. In an odd way, I'm not at all surprised. It might seem spooky to some people, but it gives me a smile to think that maybe Dave is still up to a little subtle mischief. I'm happy to welcome him into my new home.
Some backstory for the benefit of those unfamiliar with Dave, a friend of ours from the restaurant. He ate at Pamela's just about every day and was simultaneously a voice of wisdom and a good-natured troublemaker; he was our Yoda. Sadly, Dave died in May 2006 after a yearlong fight with cancer.
After he died, MD and I each got to pick out photos from a huge collection of ones that he had taken and his wife had mounted; we each picked two. In the old apartment we had all four photos hanging together. When I moved, I took the two that I had picked, and have been trying to decide where to hang them. There were spots in my TV nook that I liked, but I have candles around there and I was very afraid of the heat damaging them. Nowhere else in the place has really felt right for them, so they remained unhung.
Last night I was lighting the aforementioned candles, and just happened to look up at the panel of wall up above the TV nook, and for the first time noticed two nails already in the wall. They are positioned perfectly to hang the two photos, one of which is tall and thin, the other short and wide. As far as I've seen, they are the only two nails left over from a previous tenant in any wall in the apartment. In an odd way, I'm not at all surprised. It might seem spooky to some people, but it gives me a smile to think that maybe Dave is still up to a little subtle mischief. I'm happy to welcome him into my new home.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Bacon Infatuation
Better news that the owners of the Harris Grill do intend to rebuild. Of course, anyone who actually cares probably already knows, but I mention it in relation to a funny tidbit. A friend of mine is infatuated with the idea of Bacon Night, which they had every Tuesday. Neither of us actually went to Bacon Night, but she is very determined to experience one if they resume the tradition.
The funny thing is, she's a veggie. But she's determined that we must go, and claims she's willing to make an exception for me and Harris' Bacon Night. Which leads to the other thing that makes the situation slightly funny, which is that the only time in my life that I've ever actively craved bacon is when I worked at Pamela's. I think at that point it was a saturation effect. You know how you can hear a song on the radio and not like it, but if they pound it into your skull enough first you get it stuck in your head, and eventually realize to your horror that you crave it? Thus I believe it was with me and bacon.
Of course, it's not that I hate bacon, like one hates the aforementioned song. It's just...oops, I have to go. Whiskey has decided to try and dig the leftover food out of the garbage that he's already dug out twice now and left on the floor. Because it might be different this time or something.
The funny thing is, she's a veggie. But she's determined that we must go, and claims she's willing to make an exception for me and Harris' Bacon Night. Which leads to the other thing that makes the situation slightly funny, which is that the only time in my life that I've ever actively craved bacon is when I worked at Pamela's. I think at that point it was a saturation effect. You know how you can hear a song on the radio and not like it, but if they pound it into your skull enough first you get it stuck in your head, and eventually realize to your horror that you crave it? Thus I believe it was with me and bacon.
Of course, it's not that I hate bacon, like one hates the aforementioned song. It's just...oops, I have to go. Whiskey has decided to try and dig the leftover food out of the garbage that he's already dug out twice now and left on the floor. Because it might be different this time or something.
Oh, Right...That's Why
I don't go to the movies all that often these days, and I was reminded why today. In case you are curious, take note: The Last Legion = Steaming Pile of Crap.
I would like to note, MD picked it. She apologized afterwards. At least it was the matinee.
I would like to note, MD picked it. She apologized afterwards. At least it was the matinee.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Happy Birthday MT!!
Today is my good friend MT's birthday, so happy birthday to you! You survived long enough to have the privilege of your age no longer starting with a "2", so congratulations--in another 10 or so months I'll be right behind you. I think you and I might be the only two people in the world who are happy to reach that milestone.
At any rate, it's been, what, five years now since The Nameless Evil was late for public skate but it was so obvious which two people didn't belong amongst the high school dudes and chickies that we didn't need her around to make the introduction. Five years, jeez. Five years full of ups, downs, foot surgeries, shoulder surgeries, mmmmonkeys, tears, smiles, hugs, antidepressants, anti-inflammatories, Lower Wildcat backwards, ffffourty-nine, new relationships, new heartbreaks, ciclon, vodka fireballs, ham-cheese-onion-pickle sandwiches on potato bread, 8 cats, 4 tempcats, Buffalo, 9 residences, Patrick the Starfish, and pork fried rice stuffed in a pickle jar. (Just the rice in the jar, not Patrick.) And oh yeah, some hockey in there somewhere too.
And through it all has been the comfort and knowledge that I have found in you a true, lifelong friend...even if we had to work out a few kinks along the way.
Just before my birthday this year, someone told me that age 29 marks one of the great times of transition in life--that you truly begin to become the adult that you really want to or will be. I can definitely say that I've seen that happen in you over the past year. It hasn't been an entirely easy year, but as it's progressed I've seen the seeds of real happiness finally firmly taking root for you. My wish for your birthday is that they continue to flourish.
And by the way, nice lederhosen.
At any rate, it's been, what, five years now since The Nameless Evil was late for public skate but it was so obvious which two people didn't belong amongst the high school dudes and chickies that we didn't need her around to make the introduction. Five years, jeez. Five years full of ups, downs, foot surgeries, shoulder surgeries, mmmmonkeys, tears, smiles, hugs, antidepressants, anti-inflammatories, Lower Wildcat backwards, ffffourty-nine, new relationships, new heartbreaks, ciclon, vodka fireballs, ham-cheese-onion-pickle sandwiches on potato bread, 8 cats, 4 tempcats, Buffalo, 9 residences, Patrick the Starfish, and pork fried rice stuffed in a pickle jar. (Just the rice in the jar, not Patrick.) And oh yeah, some hockey in there somewhere too.
And through it all has been the comfort and knowledge that I have found in you a true, lifelong friend...even if we had to work out a few kinks along the way.
Just before my birthday this year, someone told me that age 29 marks one of the great times of transition in life--that you truly begin to become the adult that you really want to or will be. I can definitely say that I've seen that happen in you over the past year. It hasn't been an entirely easy year, but as it's progressed I've seen the seeds of real happiness finally firmly taking root for you. My wish for your birthday is that they continue to flourish.
And by the way, nice lederhosen.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Pet Peeve #83: Sidewalk Hogs
The first thing I have to do is make a confession. I bike on the sidewalk sometimes. Yep, I'm one of those jerks that gives bicycle commuters a bad name. If I'm in an area where drivers are used to seeing bikes, there's plenty of space, or the sidewalks have lots of pedestrians, I stick to the road. But on narrow, busy, non-bike-friendly roads, I hit the sidewalk. For example, Penn Ave. between Braddock and Fifth--I drove that stretch every day for two years, and can personally attest that drivers are too concerned with stirring their coffee and beating the red lights to get to work, they aren't looking out for bikers.
That admission made, my pet peeve is something I don't have a right to. Too bad, it irritates me anyhow. When a pedestrian sees a bike coming down the sidewalk, why do they simultaneously gawk in fear that I'm going to mow them down, yet also refuse to make a decent amount of space?
On my ride to work down that stretch of Penn, there's one bus stop in particular that drives me insane. There's a telephone pole and mailbox side by side. Most times that a pedestrian is waiting there, they stand immediately opposite the mailbox, leaving maybe a third of the sidewalk open. Let me show you: (MD, you know you've been waiting for a diagram.)
They shrink back against the shrubs in clear recognition of the tight squeeze, yet they don't make any move to relieve the congestion. I know that as a biker on the sidewalk I have no claim to anything, so I'm not complaining from that aspect. But the stupidity irritates me. Out of a sheer desire for their own self-preservation, wouldn't it make sense to stand somewhere different? Say, next to the mailbox, or a few feet down from the mailbox rather than immediately across from it. Are they that dumb? Wait, don't answer that.
That admission made, my pet peeve is something I don't have a right to. Too bad, it irritates me anyhow. When a pedestrian sees a bike coming down the sidewalk, why do they simultaneously gawk in fear that I'm going to mow them down, yet also refuse to make a decent amount of space?
On my ride to work down that stretch of Penn, there's one bus stop in particular that drives me insane. There's a telephone pole and mailbox side by side. Most times that a pedestrian is waiting there, they stand immediately opposite the mailbox, leaving maybe a third of the sidewalk open. Let me show you: (MD, you know you've been waiting for a diagram.)
They shrink back against the shrubs in clear recognition of the tight squeeze, yet they don't make any move to relieve the congestion. I know that as a biker on the sidewalk I have no claim to anything, so I'm not complaining from that aspect. But the stupidity irritates me. Out of a sheer desire for their own self-preservation, wouldn't it make sense to stand somewhere different? Say, next to the mailbox, or a few feet down from the mailbox rather than immediately across from it. Are they that dumb? Wait, don't answer that.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Why the Harris and Not a Stupid McDonalds?
Downright shitty news that the Harris Grill in Shadyside burned down this weekend. I was only just introduced to it in its current incarnation a few months ago, but it was a fantastic place. Well, full disclosure: it turned out I'd been there once years before when I first came to Pittsburgh but I don't really count that because it was the previous ownership and I was so new in town I had no idea where the people I'd gone with led me...case in point I got properly and thoroughly lost when I tried to leave. I didn't even remember that I'd been there--I didn't realize it when the plans were made, but as soon as I saw that porch I remembered it instantly.
Mmm--that porch. I don't think I ever actually went inside, because the porch was (is) so great I never got past it to the door. Maybe when I was first there (again) and wasn't sure whether you had to check inside for porch seating.
Anyhow, their food was (is) awesome and the atmosphere was (is) fantastic.
And in case you can't tell, I have stubbornly decided to believe that they will rebuild and be back. I think one article said a co-owner has already vowed to rebuild. I just hope they remember to bring the calamari appetizer back with them. And the Garden Weasel. And the Henny Penny. And the Polish Church Basement Pierogies. And the Salmon Rushdie's Return. And the spanikopita. And the...OK, I have to stop now.
Mmm--that porch. I don't think I ever actually went inside, because the porch was (is) so great I never got past it to the door. Maybe when I was first there (again) and wasn't sure whether you had to check inside for porch seating.
Anyhow, their food was (is) awesome and the atmosphere was (is) fantastic.
And in case you can't tell, I have stubbornly decided to believe that they will rebuild and be back. I think one article said a co-owner has already vowed to rebuild. I just hope they remember to bring the calamari appetizer back with them. And the Garden Weasel. And the Henny Penny. And the Polish Church Basement Pierogies. And the Salmon Rushdie's Return. And the spanikopita. And the...OK, I have to stop now.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
My Weekend in Review
Wow...yeah, that weekend ended up being just as zany as I figured it would!
In case you couldn't tell, I was a little busy. A hockey tournament at the Southpointe rink down in Canonsburg happened to coincide with my softball playoffs, which would make things hectic enough as it is, but in addition to that my Cincinnati friends rolled into town for the tournament so there was visiting, partying and all around good fun to be had.
First, the hockey--fun fun fun! I skated with some ladies from my Ice Maidens class, and everyone had a great time. We've had scrimmages here and there with the class, but these were the ladies' first "real" hockey games. We lost all three games, but my little fledgling hockey players did me proud and then some. I still can't believe I'm lucky enough to be a part of something like this program; it is so great seeing these women learn so much and have so much fun, and know that I helped make that happen.
Second, the softball--again, fun fun fun! Although, the two games I played in we lost, and the one I missed due to hockey we won. So...hopefully they won't decide I'm a jinx and will still take me back next year. They let me come eat at Gullifty's afterwards, so I'm hopeful. Softball season has definitely been one of the highlights of the summer; I'm so happy I decided to do it. Many thanks to G for talking me into it, and my Ducks teammates for a great season.
Lastly, the partying. Do I need to say fun fun fun? OK. Fun fun fun! Mad dash back down south to join G and the Stars for dinner...missed the salad but really the crab legs were the important part. Let's see...what else...well, there was a crab claw that someone tried to turn into a nipple clip, a multi-car chinese fire drill, watching a bunch of people from Ohio unravel the mystery that is the "beer distributor", your standard hotel drinking mischief, some LCR dice game gambling, and let us not forget the game of strip poker. If you hear any rumors about my rear end needing a tan, it's a vicious, vicious lie. (Actually, I didn't lose to that extent--my butt made a brief unscheduled appearance during the short removal. Chalk it up to the perils of wearing baggy clothes.)
Oh! And the extra special fun, I got to play with my car on Friday!! Engine flush, oil change and new front brake pads. I haven't had anywhere available to work on it so it's been several years since I've gotten to tinker. I missed it horribly. The only bummer, at one point I took my glasses off and put them on the roof of the car. Yeah, they're gone now. Yay for insurance.
So, now I have to do that laundry, because I have no clean boxers. Clean boxers are important.
In case you couldn't tell, I was a little busy. A hockey tournament at the Southpointe rink down in Canonsburg happened to coincide with my softball playoffs, which would make things hectic enough as it is, but in addition to that my Cincinnati friends rolled into town for the tournament so there was visiting, partying and all around good fun to be had.
First, the hockey--fun fun fun! I skated with some ladies from my Ice Maidens class, and everyone had a great time. We've had scrimmages here and there with the class, but these were the ladies' first "real" hockey games. We lost all three games, but my little fledgling hockey players did me proud and then some. I still can't believe I'm lucky enough to be a part of something like this program; it is so great seeing these women learn so much and have so much fun, and know that I helped make that happen.
Second, the softball--again, fun fun fun! Although, the two games I played in we lost, and the one I missed due to hockey we won. So...hopefully they won't decide I'm a jinx and will still take me back next year. They let me come eat at Gullifty's afterwards, so I'm hopeful. Softball season has definitely been one of the highlights of the summer; I'm so happy I decided to do it. Many thanks to G for talking me into it, and my Ducks teammates for a great season.
Lastly, the partying. Do I need to say fun fun fun? OK. Fun fun fun! Mad dash back down south to join G and the Stars for dinner...missed the salad but really the crab legs were the important part. Let's see...what else...well, there was a crab claw that someone tried to turn into a nipple clip, a multi-car chinese fire drill, watching a bunch of people from Ohio unravel the mystery that is the "beer distributor", your standard hotel drinking mischief, some LCR dice game gambling, and let us not forget the game of strip poker. If you hear any rumors about my rear end needing a tan, it's a vicious, vicious lie. (Actually, I didn't lose to that extent--my butt made a brief unscheduled appearance during the short removal. Chalk it up to the perils of wearing baggy clothes.)
Oh! And the extra special fun, I got to play with my car on Friday!! Engine flush, oil change and new front brake pads. I haven't had anywhere available to work on it so it's been several years since I've gotten to tinker. I missed it horribly. The only bummer, at one point I took my glasses off and put them on the roof of the car. Yeah, they're gone now. Yay for insurance.
So, now I have to do that laundry, because I have no clean boxers. Clean boxers are important.
Friday, August 10, 2007
My Weekend in Preview
In this order:
Hockey
Sleep
Hockey
Softball
Party
Sleep
Hockey
Softball
Laundry
And somewhere in there I'll need to eat.
WOO!!
Hockey
Sleep
Hockey
Softball
Party
Sleep
Hockey
Softball
Laundry
And somewhere in there I'll need to eat.
WOO!!
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
To Soothe the Savage Beast
I don't know what it is about music. There's something about how it works into me, in a way that regular words never could. Whether I'm listening to it or playing it, it's like it opens some hidden door directly through me. Whatever emotion it is touching, it hits it directly, exposes it completely bare to everything. There's no emotion so intense for me that music can't take it to greater heights--joy, anger, excitement, anticipation, frustration, hope, peace, anything.
And as for pain, when a song resonates with your pain, for me there are few things quite so rending and yet so healing all at once. I can feel like a song is just going to break me in two...the mortal body couldn't possibly survive it. Then when it's over, there's a speck of hope, of healing, that just wasn't there before.
Music that truly resonates with something you feel in your heart is just pure--it is the most perfect form of expression I can imagine. It's as though it ceases to describe the feeling, and simply IS the feeling. That's just beautiful.
And as for pain, when a song resonates with your pain, for me there are few things quite so rending and yet so healing all at once. I can feel like a song is just going to break me in two...the mortal body couldn't possibly survive it. Then when it's over, there's a speck of hope, of healing, that just wasn't there before.
Music that truly resonates with something you feel in your heart is just pure--it is the most perfect form of expression I can imagine. It's as though it ceases to describe the feeling, and simply IS the feeling. That's just beautiful.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Rainy Ruminations
It's Sunday and it's raining. There's something about going out for a good bike ride in the pouring rain that is so great and refreshing. I can't quite describe it. The water drives in your face, kicks up from the road, every inch of you is drenched in sweat and rain and dirt.
It seems odd to call dirty road and rainwater cleansing, but it totally is. You're filthy and soaked, and you don't care. We spend so much time worrying about maintaining a proper physical state. Oh, I don't want to get wet in the rain. Oh, I'm sweaty and smelly. Fuck that--I'm out busting my tail, sweating my ass off, water dripping from every inch of me, every piece of clothing soaked through and through. And I don't give a shit.
Liberation. Liberation from all the bullshit of how I appear, trying to keep things clean and neat and in it's place. I'm existing in my natural state, here I am and that's the way it is, and I don't give a shit what the people safe and dry in their cars think as they drive by and stare like I'm a crazy person.
Anyhow, I'm in a very weird mood today. It's Sunday and it's raining, and life is uncertain and I have no idea what's going to happen next, and that kicks ass.
It seems odd to call dirty road and rainwater cleansing, but it totally is. You're filthy and soaked, and you don't care. We spend so much time worrying about maintaining a proper physical state. Oh, I don't want to get wet in the rain. Oh, I'm sweaty and smelly. Fuck that--I'm out busting my tail, sweating my ass off, water dripping from every inch of me, every piece of clothing soaked through and through. And I don't give a shit.
Liberation. Liberation from all the bullshit of how I appear, trying to keep things clean and neat and in it's place. I'm existing in my natural state, here I am and that's the way it is, and I don't give a shit what the people safe and dry in their cars think as they drive by and stare like I'm a crazy person.
Anyhow, I'm in a very weird mood today. It's Sunday and it's raining, and life is uncertain and I have no idea what's going to happen next, and that kicks ass.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
I guess I could go for a hobble
Alas, a horrible fate has befallen me on this day. Since I've moved, every day I've been out and about doing stuff in some form or other. Biking around, taking walks, running errands sans vehicle, going to play in Frick. I've even been doing a touch of running, which comes as a great surprise to everyone including myself due to my long history of stress fractures and bad knees. (I can't explain it--it's like living here has infused me with some magic strength that has reinforced my shins or something. But just wait for the post where my legs have snapped in two.)
Well, over the weekend I was camping down in Cinci, and at some point (I think during a romp through the woods with four other people on a single ATV, but I'm not sure) I bummed my foot out pretty good. I can still get around, but I pulled most of the muscles and tendons on the bottom and outside of my right foot. So pedestrian exercise is out for me for a little bit. But, I still have my bike--I can ignore whatever aggravation of the injury happens when I pedal. No biggie, my outdoor and exercise addictions are still sated.
Sadly, today my bike got sick and had to go to the bike doctor. Which means tomorrow I have to drive to work. And drive home. And there isn't a whole lot I can do as far as getting in my daily fix for out-and-about-ness unless my foot makes a dramatic recovery. The two-wheeled bumblebee is supposed to be fixed by Friday, but you never know sometimes.
I've been in this apartment just long enough to realize that my dream of constant outdoors and exercise truly is everything I ever thought it could be...only to have it mercilessly ripped away! For a day or two anyhow. But what if it's two?? Or worse yet.....THREE??? If worst comes to worst, I still have my old crutches.
Well, over the weekend I was camping down in Cinci, and at some point (I think during a romp through the woods with four other people on a single ATV, but I'm not sure) I bummed my foot out pretty good. I can still get around, but I pulled most of the muscles and tendons on the bottom and outside of my right foot. So pedestrian exercise is out for me for a little bit. But, I still have my bike--I can ignore whatever aggravation of the injury happens when I pedal. No biggie, my outdoor and exercise addictions are still sated.
Sadly, today my bike got sick and had to go to the bike doctor. Which means tomorrow I have to drive to work. And drive home. And there isn't a whole lot I can do as far as getting in my daily fix for out-and-about-ness unless my foot makes a dramatic recovery. The two-wheeled bumblebee is supposed to be fixed by Friday, but you never know sometimes.
I've been in this apartment just long enough to realize that my dream of constant outdoors and exercise truly is everything I ever thought it could be...only to have it mercilessly ripped away! For a day or two anyhow. But what if it's two?? Or worse yet.....THREE??? If worst comes to worst, I still have my old crutches.
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