As I've already described, I bought some toilet rolls from Amazon. 96 toilet rolls, to be precise, because you couldn't buy fewer.
We got the keys to the new flat, and went to have a look, so we could think about getting an insect net for the balcony, and think about where to put things when they came. S wanted to pop back to our current abode on the way, to pick something, so the boys and I waited in the car, while she got the measuring device.
When she came back, she had the measuring thing, and a box containing slightly fewer than 96 toilet rolls. Which we took to the new flat. We got there, and did a bit of measuring, and thinking, and I looked at the ice maker in the fridge, to understand how it worked (I still don't). And S put the toilet rolls away.
She put an enormous pyramid sized pile on the cistern of one of the toilets. In the flat we are in now, the boys did something similar. The next day, D went to the toilet, and asked why the toilet roll was wet. I went to investigate, and it was indeed, very, very soggy. I asked A how it got wet. "I didn't flush the toilet, Daddy", he said, by way of explanation. I enquired further "When the toilet roll was in the toilet, I didn't flush the toilet. I are a good boy."
I didn't enquire further. I fetched a plastic bag, which I used as a glove to dispose of the offending toilet roll.
Anyway, as I said, S was making a pyramid shaped pile of toilet rolls on the cistern. I said that this had already led to one undesired meeting of the toilet and the toilet roll, before the toilet roll had been removed from the roll and, well, you know. So maybe it wasn't the best place to put the toilet rolls. They could go in the cupboard instead, say, and that would avoid accidents.
"Yes" said S. "But that won't deter you from buying 96 toilet rolls again."
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Toilets
I was going to write about toilets, but that seems a bit too biological, so I thought I'd write about toilet doors instead. The door cubicles have gaps - they don't fit quite right, and there's a gap which approaches a half inch. Which is more than you need, in my opinion. (Well, I don't think you need any.)
The walls are also not quite high enough. At CoCE, if two people in stalls stood up at the same time, they could look each other directly in the eye. From a distance that would be uncomfortably close, even if you didn't have your pants around your ankles.
Some public toilets don't even have doors on the cubicles. I don't know if this is because they fell off, or were vandalised off, or never had them. But I'd have to be very, very, very desperate before I'd go and do my business in one of them. And I've have to have a group of very big men standing outside the toilet (not just outside the toilet, outside the building) linking arms to form a wall, to make sure no one came in. And I'd prefer it if they had some sort of weapon. (Not a gun, just some sort of truncheon.)
Oh, and one other thing, while I'm on about toilets. I've never understood toilet seat covers. What are they for? How do you use them? When I try, they just fall off. And where do you put the flap bit from the middle? At the front, or at the back? I've tried both, and neither seems satisfactory. Normally, when one goes somewhere new and encounters something weird, you can copy someone else. But there's not much opportunity for toilet behavior like that. Well, I could just peer over the wall, but that's the sort of thing that is easily misunderstood.
The walls are also not quite high enough. At CoCE, if two people in stalls stood up at the same time, they could look each other directly in the eye. From a distance that would be uncomfortably close, even if you didn't have your pants around your ankles.
Some public toilets don't even have doors on the cubicles. I don't know if this is because they fell off, or were vandalised off, or never had them. But I'd have to be very, very, very desperate before I'd go and do my business in one of them. And I've have to have a group of very big men standing outside the toilet (not just outside the toilet, outside the building) linking arms to form a wall, to make sure no one came in. And I'd prefer it if they had some sort of weapon. (Not a gun, just some sort of truncheon.)
Oh, and one other thing, while I'm on about toilets. I've never understood toilet seat covers. What are they for? How do you use them? When I try, they just fall off. And where do you put the flap bit from the middle? At the front, or at the back? I've tried both, and neither seems satisfactory. Normally, when one goes somewhere new and encounters something weird, you can copy someone else. But there's not much opportunity for toilet behavior like that. Well, I could just peer over the wall, but that's the sort of thing that is easily misunderstood.
Weather
One doesn't like to gloat. Well, one doesn't like to gloat too much, but the weather here is almost ridiculous. Some people say it gets dull, effectively having no seasons, but it's not dull yet. The forecast for today is for it to be 75F (that's about 23C, kids and Europeans), and it's been warmer than that the last few days (up to 80). We are going to a Halloween do, only about 10 miles away, and the forecast there is 80F today.
S says that it hardly ever gets hot in England, and when it does get hot, it's humid. It's so unhumid here that it's almost unpleasant. (It's particularly unpleasant if you're a forest and catch fire easily. That's a downside we haven't had yet, but have been told about - when everything gets covered in smoke and ash from fires.) The humidity forecast here is 18% later on, and where we are going, it's -1% (hang on, how can that happen? How can there be less than no humidity? Well, whatever, it's very dry).
We thought about moving to this area and it's a lot hotter there than it is near the coast (where we did move to). This year it set a record for having 20 consecutive days over 100 degrees F (that's about 38c) and set a record of 119F (48C). When we used to go to the South of France as children, my grandfather used to tell us how you could fry an egg on a hot bit of ground (I've got a memory of trying, but I don't recall the result). I've seen a recipe where you cook salmon at lower temperatures than that (no, really, it's here). You wouldn't need to put the saucepan on the cooker, well, you could, but you wouldn't need to turn it on. If you had a bath that was 48C, it would hurt.
S says that it hardly ever gets hot in England, and when it does get hot, it's humid. It's so unhumid here that it's almost unpleasant. (It's particularly unpleasant if you're a forest and catch fire easily. That's a downside we haven't had yet, but have been told about - when everything gets covered in smoke and ash from fires.) The humidity forecast here is 18% later on, and where we are going, it's -1% (hang on, how can that happen? How can there be less than no humidity? Well, whatever, it's very dry).
We thought about moving to this area and it's a lot hotter there than it is near the coast (where we did move to). This year it set a record for having 20 consecutive days over 100 degrees F (that's about 38c) and set a record of 119F (48C). When we used to go to the South of France as children, my grandfather used to tell us how you could fry an egg on a hot bit of ground (I've got a memory of trying, but I don't recall the result). I've seen a recipe where you cook salmon at lower temperatures than that (no, really, it's here). You wouldn't need to put the saucepan on the cooker, well, you could, but you wouldn't need to turn it on. If you had a bath that was 48C, it would hurt.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Does anybody read your stupid boring blog?
A question I get asked, well, occasionally, is "Does anyone actually read your stupid boring blog?" Not often, because it rarely impinges enough on people's consciousness for them to even raise that question. But surprisingly, they do.
Well, maybe they open it, notice that there are very few pictures, and what there are, are a little dull, and close it again. But I'm going to count them anyway.
I use Google Analytics to checkout how many people are reading. And here's the summary of the last week.
There were 18 visits, who looked at 40 pages, between them.
They came from:
UK 8
USA 7
Canada 1
Philippines 1
Russian Federation 1
10 had been before, 8 were new.
No one came from searching Google (or anything else) most typed in the link directly. The rest came from Blogger (just clickin on a random blog).
Well, maybe they open it, notice that there are very few pictures, and what there are, are a little dull, and close it again. But I'm going to count them anyway.
I use Google Analytics to checkout how many people are reading. And here's the summary of the last week.
There were 18 visits, who looked at 40 pages, between them.
They came from:
UK 8
USA 7
Canada 1
Philippines 1
Russian Federation 1
10 had been before, 8 were new.
No one came from searching Google (or anything else) most typed in the link directly. The rest came from Blogger (just clickin on a random blog).
Birthday fun
Thursday was my birthday, so thanks to everyone who sent cards. No, really, all two of you. One of you being S (to whom I happen to be married [see how I didn't end that sentence with a preposition?]), and one was the bloke who sold me car insurance. And that was a postcard, so it won't stand up on its own. Mum sent me an email, although it arrived at 4:05 pm here, which means that she sent it at five past midnight there, which makes it technically late.
S and the boys bought some pastry things for me to distribute at work. The boys chose them, and they were very curious. A bit like apple puffs, except that they had forgotten to put anything inside them. So they were rather uninteresting. Most people ate them politely, except T, who said "They've forgotten to put anything in these", and O, who came by my office to say "Happy Birthday" and then sort of sidled out slowly, looking slightly suspicious when I offered her one, keeping one eye on me, and one on the (dull) pastries.
K said she'd buy me lunch, so I had my usual main course AND a salad AND a diet coke (large!), cos I was splashing out.
(Mark twain said you should use no more than one exclamation mark per 100,000 words. I think that's my first in quite some time. I've made a feeble attempt to do a word count on this blog, but I couldn't find an easy way, except copying each post into Word and doing it there. So I don't know when I can use another.)
My iPod finally arrived, which was the final part of my leaving present from the folks at University of Former employment, which was very nice of them. Actually, even more thoughtfully, they didn't buy it, instead they handed me a wad of dollar bills before I left, which meant that I could buy a bagel from the bagel shop at the airport when I arrived (amongst other things). Naturally I spent them all, and then had to wait until I had some more money.
I threw a little more money at the iPod, to get an 80GB one, so S said that it was like my birthday present, and I wasn't allowed to open it until then, even though it arrived on Thursday. But on Wednesday S had her written driving test, and I said that if she got them all correct, I would be allowed to open it on Wednesday. However, there was (she felt) an ambiguous question, and she didn't choose the right answer. She wanted to appeal, and show the people marking it the page in the book, but was persuaded against it. (The question was about the speed limit as you approach a railroad crossing - the speed limit depends on whether you can see in 400 ft in each direction, but the question didn't specify).
S went out shopping for my birthday present on Wednesday. She only went to thrift shops, because she said that I wouldn't like whatever she got me, and so she wasn't going to spend much money on it. Like I was the one who wanted a water cooler for their birthday, and then when a water cooler was presented (all wrapped up nicely), the recipient said "What's this? This is a shit present?". (We still have the water cooler in the loft in England. And S doesn't like her water cooled anyway. She likes it at room temperature. This is what I put up with).
Where was I. Oh yes, so for my birthday I got a glass punch bowl, with little metal curly hooks that hang on the side, and let you hang glass cups from it. And one of those things that looks like a little table that you prop over yourself in bed. S says it's so I can eat on the sofa without complaining, and then she won't be the one who isn't joining in family meal times.
In the evening, we had G, the babysitter who normally comes in the day, to stay for longer, and we went out. First we went to a Japanese restaurant and had cocktails. (It was decorated with cobwebs) and then we went to a Thai restaurant, and had food. S had Garden Rolls (she normally has spring rolls, but we got a take out from the same place once before, and the spring rolls had celery in, and if there's one thing S doesn't like, it's celery. Oh, and water coolers that are somehow wrong. And ... I'd better stop there, or we'll get off topic again). Garden rolls were a bit like spring rolls, except not cooked - kind of like some finely chopped vegetables stuffed into some rice paper. Then with a bit of avocado stuffed in too. (I had spring rolls, because I don't object to celery. Like normal folk.)
S had green curry, which was v hot, and took it home with her and had it for breakfast. Then we went to the Cold Stone Creamery, and walked to the pier. It was about 9pm (ooh, late), but there was a surprisingly large number of people on the pier. Not a large number, but a lot more than you (well, I) would have expected. Just kind of hanging out and looking at the sea (the pier is made of concrete and has streetlights on it). The waves are usually on the large side (not huge, but big enough to make surfing almost possible and swimming quite exciting) and that night they seemed really loud - maybe it was because it was quiet everywhere else, but it sounded like thunder when a big one came. Walking along at night seems like a dreadful extravagance, because it costs $12/hour, and if you're going to pay $12/hour you feel like you should do something more exciting than stand on the pier and look at the sea. But it was my birthday so we splashed out.
G had put the boys to bed, and in the morning, they told me how G didn't sit on the bed, like Daddy. She sat on the floor, in between them, and that way they could both see the pictures in the story. And that way Daddy is considerably less comfortable.
Then we went home, and watched CSI. (There is five hours of continuous CSI on tonight, and for some of the time it's in parallel on more than one channel, so S has to sit and change over constantly.)
(That was 1,102 words. I'm over 1% of the way to my next exclamation mark.)
Update: 28 October. Mum says that it arrived on my time, and that's what's relevant. Time is a relative and subjective construct, after all.
S and the boys bought some pastry things for me to distribute at work. The boys chose them, and they were very curious. A bit like apple puffs, except that they had forgotten to put anything inside them. So they were rather uninteresting. Most people ate them politely, except T, who said "They've forgotten to put anything in these", and O, who came by my office to say "Happy Birthday" and then sort of sidled out slowly, looking slightly suspicious when I offered her one, keeping one eye on me, and one on the (dull) pastries.
K said she'd buy me lunch, so I had my usual main course AND a salad AND a diet coke (large!), cos I was splashing out.
(Mark twain said you should use no more than one exclamation mark per 100,000 words. I think that's my first in quite some time. I've made a feeble attempt to do a word count on this blog, but I couldn't find an easy way, except copying each post into Word and doing it there. So I don't know when I can use another.)
My iPod finally arrived, which was the final part of my leaving present from the folks at University of Former employment, which was very nice of them. Actually, even more thoughtfully, they didn't buy it, instead they handed me a wad of dollar bills before I left, which meant that I could buy a bagel from the bagel shop at the airport when I arrived (amongst other things). Naturally I spent them all, and then had to wait until I had some more money.
I threw a little more money at the iPod, to get an 80GB one, so S said that it was like my birthday present, and I wasn't allowed to open it until then, even though it arrived on Thursday. But on Wednesday S had her written driving test, and I said that if she got them all correct, I would be allowed to open it on Wednesday. However, there was (she felt) an ambiguous question, and she didn't choose the right answer. She wanted to appeal, and show the people marking it the page in the book, but was persuaded against it. (The question was about the speed limit as you approach a railroad crossing - the speed limit depends on whether you can see in 400 ft in each direction, but the question didn't specify).
S went out shopping for my birthday present on Wednesday. She only went to thrift shops, because she said that I wouldn't like whatever she got me, and so she wasn't going to spend much money on it. Like I was the one who wanted a water cooler for their birthday, and then when a water cooler was presented (all wrapped up nicely), the recipient said "What's this? This is a shit present?". (We still have the water cooler in the loft in England. And S doesn't like her water cooled anyway. She likes it at room temperature. This is what I put up with).
Where was I. Oh yes, so for my birthday I got a glass punch bowl, with little metal curly hooks that hang on the side, and let you hang glass cups from it. And one of those things that looks like a little table that you prop over yourself in bed. S says it's so I can eat on the sofa without complaining, and then she won't be the one who isn't joining in family meal times.
In the evening, we had G, the babysitter who normally comes in the day, to stay for longer, and we went out. First we went to a Japanese restaurant and had cocktails. (It was decorated with cobwebs) and then we went to a Thai restaurant, and had food. S had Garden Rolls (she normally has spring rolls, but we got a take out from the same place once before, and the spring rolls had celery in, and if there's one thing S doesn't like, it's celery. Oh, and water coolers that are somehow wrong. And ... I'd better stop there, or we'll get off topic again). Garden rolls were a bit like spring rolls, except not cooked - kind of like some finely chopped vegetables stuffed into some rice paper. Then with a bit of avocado stuffed in too. (I had spring rolls, because I don't object to celery. Like normal folk.)
S had green curry, which was v hot, and took it home with her and had it for breakfast. Then we went to the Cold Stone Creamery, and walked to the pier. It was about 9pm (ooh, late), but there was a surprisingly large number of people on the pier. Not a large number, but a lot more than you (well, I) would have expected. Just kind of hanging out and looking at the sea (the pier is made of concrete and has streetlights on it). The waves are usually on the large side (not huge, but big enough to make surfing almost possible and swimming quite exciting) and that night they seemed really loud - maybe it was because it was quiet everywhere else, but it sounded like thunder when a big one came. Walking along at night seems like a dreadful extravagance, because it costs $12/hour, and if you're going to pay $12/hour you feel like you should do something more exciting than stand on the pier and look at the sea. But it was my birthday so we splashed out.
G had put the boys to bed, and in the morning, they told me how G didn't sit on the bed, like Daddy. She sat on the floor, in between them, and that way they could both see the pictures in the story. And that way Daddy is considerably less comfortable.
Then we went home, and watched CSI. (There is five hours of continuous CSI on tonight, and for some of the time it's in parallel on more than one channel, so S has to sit and change over constantly.)
(That was 1,102 words. I'm over 1% of the way to my next exclamation mark.)
Update: 28 October. Mum says that it arrived on my time, and that's what's relevant. Time is a relative and subjective construct, after all.
Halloween
I can't believe how excited everyone seems to be about Halloween. There's halloween stuff everywhere. It's like Christmas, except there's cobwebs instead of tinsel, and pumpkins, ghosts and skeletons, instead of Santa, Rudolph and angels.
The Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) had Halloween decorations all over it (including some tape that said "Caution: Enter if you dare" strung across the reception desk, which I thought was slightly scary. Even more scary when we report for our driving tests next week). Ye Olde Sex Shoppe had halloween pumpkins in the window (and cobwebs). The boys wanted to know what the toys were next to the skeletons. ("They're toys for grown ups").
Estate agents, restaurants, pretty much everywhere has got halloween stuff. We went to a Halloween shop, which had some really gruesome stuff. A and D's favorite was a slightly decomposed corpse, which had been amputated at the waste. If you stamped on the ground near it, it sort of dragged itself along on it's arms, and groaned. (Yours for only $100). There was also a bust that pulled it's own head off and laughed.
Halloween means dressing up. But you don't have to get dressed up in Halloween related stuff, you can get dressed up in anything. So, we bought the boys Superman costumes. It includes a 'metal' bar (made of plastic) which makes a satisfactory noise when you bend it. (D worked out how to make it make the noise without bending it, and A got cross about that, because it wasn't right.) And plastic hair, which looks a bit like Superman's. ("Daddy, why do Supermans wear hats?" they keep asking.)
But the Velcro fasteners on the back of the costumes make them itch, and the hats make their heads sweaty, and when they sit down, they can't get up again, because they are sitting on the cloak. So we'll see how long they can keep them on, on the big day. (Well, more than one big day - there's a halloween party in the afternoon of 31st at CoCE, and we are going to a do on Saturday afternoon as well).
The Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) had Halloween decorations all over it (including some tape that said "Caution: Enter if you dare" strung across the reception desk, which I thought was slightly scary. Even more scary when we report for our driving tests next week). Ye Olde Sex Shoppe had halloween pumpkins in the window (and cobwebs). The boys wanted to know what the toys were next to the skeletons. ("They're toys for grown ups").
Estate agents, restaurants, pretty much everywhere has got halloween stuff. We went to a Halloween shop, which had some really gruesome stuff. A and D's favorite was a slightly decomposed corpse, which had been amputated at the waste. If you stamped on the ground near it, it sort of dragged itself along on it's arms, and groaned. (Yours for only $100). There was also a bust that pulled it's own head off and laughed.
Halloween means dressing up. But you don't have to get dressed up in Halloween related stuff, you can get dressed up in anything. So, we bought the boys Superman costumes. It includes a 'metal' bar (made of plastic) which makes a satisfactory noise when you bend it. (D worked out how to make it make the noise without bending it, and A got cross about that, because it wasn't right.) And plastic hair, which looks a bit like Superman's. ("Daddy, why do Supermans wear hats?" they keep asking.)
But the Velcro fasteners on the back of the costumes make them itch, and the hats make their heads sweaty, and when they sit down, they can't get up again, because they are sitting on the cloak. So we'll see how long they can keep them on, on the big day. (Well, more than one big day - there's a halloween party in the afternoon of 31st at CoCE, and we are going to a do on Saturday afternoon as well).
Monday, October 23, 2006
Damp
I got to the locker room today, and found that I didn't have a towel. I was pretty sweaty after riding there, and pretty smelly and greasy and generally disgusting, so not having a shower was not really an option.
So I had a shower. And spent a while dripping, and waiting for everyone to leave. (It was past locker room rush hour). Then I dried my hair with one hairdryer and the rest of me with the other hairdryer, and got reasonable dry by the time I got dressed.
So I had a shower. And spent a while dripping, and waiting for everyone to leave. (It was past locker room rush hour). Then I dried my hair with one hairdryer and the rest of me with the other hairdryer, and got reasonable dry by the time I got dressed.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Oops, not insured
I got a phone call from M, our friendly insurance man. Who told us that the company won't actually accept our weird, foreign driving licences. However, because he had grovelled, we have until the 7th of November to get proper American licences, and we'll be insured until then.
Meanwhile, the insurance company would send us a check (note: US spelling). But we were NOT TO CASH IT. Or we really wouldn't be insured.
Meanwhile, the insurance company would send us a check (note: US spelling). But we were NOT TO CASH IT. Or we really wouldn't be insured.
Aquarium Trip
We went to the local aquarium today. But it was closed. So instead we went to the fair. We went on the carousel (except there are signs saying that people over 200 lbs aren't allowed on the horses - they have to go in the chariots instead. :(
Then we went to a thing where you had to try to climb a horizontal ladder, which spun around. There was an adult one and a kiddie one, so A and D went on the kiddie one. Fairground attendants are traditionally supposed to be surly, but this one was the surliest one I have ever met. I paid my $4 for two goes. Poor D went on, got about half way and fell off. The ladder swung around and biffed him on the head, just above his eye, and he cried (of course). The attendant continued to
stare straight ahead.There was a sign that said "Prize every time", so I told D that, because he had done so well, he would get a prize. I asked the attendant for the prize. (She was standing next to a bucket of cuddly toys). She looked straight ahead. I asked again, and she looked at me, looking confused and blank. I asked again, pointing at the sign. She said "None left". I suggested that perhaps she might have mentioned this before I coughed up my money. I asked for my $2 back that I hadn't used, and she then searched through the cuddly toys, and found a keyring for D. A went on, with a similar result (without getting bashed on the head though) and this time got a keyring without another word being exchanged.
Then we went to the beach, where there were some ropes and things. I climbed a rope, for about the second time since I was at school. But I need to work on my technique - it scraped my ankle in a rather painful fashion. (Or maybe I need to wear boots - I noticed a couple of people who were very good at climbing were wearing boots.)
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Getty Centre
We went to the Getty Centre today. It's a museum full of art and stuff, which wasn't going to go down a storm with A and D. So, while S looked at the pics, the boys and I went to the cafe and drank smoothies. Given how vast and posh everything was (polished marble floor that made D fall over and hurt his bottom - then he bent over with his bottom in the air demanding I blow it better), it was all surprisingly bargainacious - smoothies were $2.50, and were made of fruit juice with no added sugar - although actually they were slush, but that was OK. (Well, it would have been 
OK if they didn't come in such vast containers which D and A had no hope of finishing, so I had to drink, well, probably two in total).Then we ran around the garden (well, they did), and then they went to the "family room" and frolicked, with S, while I went and looked at some stuff.
It's a weird place. Firstly, because it's vast. it must have cost a terrifyingly large amount of cash to build, and that's before you put any art in it. You enter, and park in a car park with 7 levels (going down into the ground) - it's $8 to park, but that's all we paid.
Then there's a tram which takes you up the hill to the centre - the tram seems to be a hovercraft type of thing - it had no wheels, or tracks (see first picture for the track), and it had an impressive view of the Interstate 405 (second picture - this was about 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon - people joke about it being called the 405 because you go at 4 or 5 mph).At the top of the hill, you get out of the tram, and potter about - and marvel at the vastness of the place - third picture is taken from the garden, but you get a better sense of it on Wikimapia.
There were some nice views of the haze that covers Los Angeles. The last picture shows (I think) the San Fernando Valley, which is just called "The Valley". Valley Girls (or Vals, for short) come from the San Fernando valley.
The car
On Wednesday we picked up the car. We had to drive quite a way to get it, so we hired a car from Enterprise, on a one way hire. They come and pick you up from where you are, and then the return place was close to the garage. Hiring a car was 60 dollars, a cab would have been 80. On the way we had to go and see M, from State Farms Insurance. He played basketball in a spare office with A and D, while someone else sorted out all the insurance business, and then we had proof we were insured, so they would give us the car.
Weirdly, we got house contents insurance for better than free. Car insurance is fairly expensive where we are (we are paying about $700 for 6 months cover). House contents insurance is cheap (it's pretty secure, we haven't got much, and the house itself is someone else's problem), but if you take up the house insurance, you get a percentage discount on your car insurance. It turns out that the amount the car insurance goes down is more than the house insurance costs. So they effectively pay you to get insured.
When we arrived at the garage, we had to meet a chap called W. W, it turned out, was out, so we sat around for about an hour waiting for him. (We were late, so he was just about forgiven.)
When W turned up, he turned out to be about 107, and used the computer very, very slowly. There was an important form, which it was not possible to duplicate, that he had to run through a dot matrix printer. That made me somewhat nervous. He practiced three times, and then did it with the form (but it worked OK).
We got the car, and S was going to follow me in the new car, while I drove the hire car to the rental place. But we couldn't start it. Eventually, we gave up, and I went to find W. (He'd pushed his computer to one side to use an electric typewriter on his desk). The trick is to press the clutch when you turn the key - then it starts.
The car is moderately exciting - we spent a while pressing buttons and opening windows and little storage cubbies and things. There's only one drink holder in the back, which is a slight pain. There's also an arm rest that I bang my elbow on when I change gear (S doesn't, 'cos she has the driver's seat slightly further forward).
There were a lot of things that were optional extras, which you wouldn't expect to be. Electric windows, remote control opener, central locking, ABS, were all options. Surprisingly (to me) despite having most things you could ask for, it's got drum brakes on the back.
It's got traction control, which annoys S, because she doesn't understand what it's for. You can turn it off by pressing a button (but you have to press it for 1 second, I had to read the manual to find that out).
My favorite thing about it is that it's no problem at all to find it in a car park.
Weirdly, we got house contents insurance for better than free. Car insurance is fairly expensive where we are (we are paying about $700 for 6 months cover). House contents insurance is cheap (it's pretty secure, we haven't got much, and the house itself is someone else's problem), but if you take up the house insurance, you get a percentage discount on your car insurance. It turns out that the amount the car insurance goes down is more than the house insurance costs. So they effectively pay you to get insured.When we arrived at the garage, we had to meet a chap called W. W, it turned out, was out, so we sat around for about an hour waiting for him. (We were late, so he was just about forgiven.)
When W turned up, he turned out to be about 107, and used the computer very, very slowly. There was an important form, which it was not possible to duplicate, that he had to run through a dot matrix printer. That made me somewhat nervous. He practiced three times, and then did it with the form (but it worked OK).
We got the car, and S was going to follow me in the new car, while I drove the hire car to the rental place. But we couldn't start it. Eventually, we gave up, and I went to find W. (He'd pushed his computer to one side to use an electric typewriter on his desk). The trick is to press the clutch when you turn the key - then it starts.
The car is moderately exciting - we spent a while pressing buttons and opening windows and little storage cubbies and things. There's only one drink holder in the back, which is a slight pain. There's also an arm rest that I bang my elbow on when I change gear (S doesn't, 'cos she has the driver's seat slightly further forward).
There were a lot of things that were optional extras, which you wouldn't expect to be. Electric windows, remote control opener, central locking, ABS, were all options. Surprisingly (to me) despite having most things you could ask for, it's got drum brakes on the back.
It's got traction control, which annoys S, because she doesn't understand what it's for. You can turn it off by pressing a button (but you have to press it for 1 second, I had to read the manual to find that out).
My favorite thing about it is that it's no problem at all to find it in a car park.
Farmer's market
I took the boys to German school today, and then went to the Farmer's Market. It sounds like a cliche, but it's true that there are always so many weird and interesting things to buy, that it's amazing, and I always buy more than I can carry.Today I bought some cherry tomatoes. Nothing unusual there, except that one lot was very pale yellow (some were absolutely white, but they cost more) and one lot was a deep reddy-browny-purple (that's the first picture). I also got some fresh pistachios (second picture) - I've never seen fresh pistachios before, the woman that sold them said that they are only available for a few weeks, and they don't keep, so you have to eat them. They look like pistachios, except they are soft and raw, and you peel them, like, ermmm.... like I can't think what. I got some pistachio oil from the same place - I don't know about you, but I've squeezed pistachios pretty hard, and no oil has come out of them.
Then I bought the (now traditional) 8 pound bag of (organic) oranges, for $5, and some grapes and strawberries (which weren't really interesting, but I'm being completist). Oh, and a white orchid in a pot, for S. I'm going to surprise her with it later. It's OK to write it here, because she never reads this (it's mine, and it's on the internet. Two reasons it's boring. Shortly after we first met, I gave her a final draft of a book I'd just finished. She said it was great. A couple of months later, I went to check something in it, and I'd missed a chapter. She hadn't noticed. And that wasn't on the internet).
Thursday, October 19, 2006
The Secret Magic Toilet Roll
Our groceries from Amazon arrived, including 96 toilet rolls. I got home today, to find this. The cat must have thought that there was a Willy-Wonka-esque secret tuna fish flavored toilet roll hidden somewhere amongst the toilet rolls. I wonder if she was disappointed not to find it.
The first Americanism
This morning D had a set of stickers of letters of the alphabet. He was going through the letters, asking naming them, and when he didn't know their names, asking me what they were called. When he got to the end, he said "Ex, Wye, Zee" and walked away, looking pleased.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Thai-Italian Restaurant
We went to buy a car today. But I'm not going to write about that now, 'cos I'm a bit tired. However, after we'd bought the car, we went to a Thai-Italian restaurant. I thought that this would have some Thai stuff (so S was happy) and some pizza (so A and D were happy).
But it wasn't. It really was Thai-Italian fusion, which is hard to imagine, but it was actually quite tasty. S had a yellow curry pizza, which is like a pizza, except instead of tomato sauce as a base, it had Thai yellow curry sauce (I didn't think it was that great, but she really liked it). I had aubergine (egg plant I have to say now) stir fried with Thai sweet basil, with linguine and marinara sauce. A and D had spring rolls, stuffed with mozzarella and tomato, and ravioli with spinach and ricotta. (That last one didn't seem very 'fusion'). The boys ate virtually nothing as is their way.
And D fell asleep in the car on the way home, and then got upset as he weed himself.
But it wasn't. It really was Thai-Italian fusion, which is hard to imagine, but it was actually quite tasty. S had a yellow curry pizza, which is like a pizza, except instead of tomato sauce as a base, it had Thai yellow curry sauce (I didn't think it was that great, but she really liked it). I had aubergine (egg plant I have to say now) stir fried with Thai sweet basil, with linguine and marinara sauce. A and D had spring rolls, stuffed with mozzarella and tomato, and ravioli with spinach and ricotta. (That last one didn't seem very 'fusion'). The boys ate virtually nothing as is their way.
And D fell asleep in the car on the way home, and then got upset as he weed himself.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Adverts
D and A have been raised on a diet of CBeebies, which has got no adverts. However, that's not available here. In the morning, they watch PBS Kids, which has only very small numbers of wholesome ads ("Read books! They're great!"). But in the afternoons, it's channels with ads.
To start with, they were a little confused - they thought the program was over. They asked what the little programs were, and we explained that they are telling you about things you might want to buy.
And now, every single time they see an advert. That's Every. Single. Time. They say "Buy that Daddy! It's a digger! It goes chung-kerchung-kerchung with its arms!" Then they have to run back to the TV, to see the next thing "Buy that Daddy! It's a doll and it's got a pony! A pony Daddy!"
S explained that we can't buy every single thing that's advertised, because we wouldn't have enough space. A and D thought about this for a while. Now they say "Just buy that Daddy! Just that! It's a car! And it's red!"
To start with, they were a little confused - they thought the program was over. They asked what the little programs were, and we explained that they are telling you about things you might want to buy.
And now, every single time they see an advert. That's Every. Single. Time. They say "Buy that Daddy! It's a digger! It goes chung-kerchung-kerchung with its arms!" Then they have to run back to the TV, to see the next thing "Buy that Daddy! It's a doll and it's got a pony! A pony Daddy!"
S explained that we can't buy every single thing that's advertised, because we wouldn't have enough space. A and D thought about this for a while. Now they say "Just buy that Daddy! Just that! It's a car! And it's red!"
Got a Soda Stream
Except it's now called a Soda Club Soda Maker. I ordered it on Sunday, they said it would tak 7-10 business days, and it took 2. Well, one and a half days even.
S saw it, and then saw the booklet, and said "Why didn't you get the white one?"
It came with 18 samples of different flavours to add to it, the boys tried Mango and Orange, but said it made their lips hurt.
I said that if they are naughty, I'll make them drink root beer. They said that they'll cry, and then they'll buff (hit) me, and then they'll make me drink root beer.
S saw it, and then saw the booklet, and said "Why didn't you get the white one?"
It came with 18 samples of different flavours to add to it, the boys tried Mango and Orange, but said it made their lips hurt.
I said that if they are naughty, I'll make them drink root beer. They said that they'll cry, and then they'll buff (hit) me, and then they'll make me drink root beer.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Exhausting boys
S had a report to finish today, so I had a plan to try to wear the boys out.
First, we went to the beach, to try out the hovercraft, but I've already talked about that.
I had a look on some websites, to see if there was anything exciting we could do, that was within walking distance. (What with still being carless). It said that on the other side of the harbor, there were boat trips lasting about an hour. I told A and D about this, and they thought it was suitably exciting, and so off we set. Me on foot, them on their Likeabikes. I'd checked on Google Maps, and it said it was 2.4 miles to where we wanted to go. I was hopelessly optimistic, so off we set.
We walked along a fairly unpleasant road, with a pavement. On the other side of the road was a long, thin park with a path running through it. Irritatingly, there was absolutely nowhere to cross. We had done (according to good old GM) 1.7 miles, when the inevitable "wee coming" happened, so we went into a Ralph's supermarket, and used their bathroom (as I've learned to say). Which was a bit tricky as I had to carry the Likeabikes.
It was about time to refuel the boys, so we went to an ice cream place. D was absolutely convinced he wanted plain sorbet, but he got a free sample, and that persuaded him to have strawberry.
The ice cream place was called Cold Stone Creamery, and I imagined that was just a name (Like Red Rock Cider "It's not red, and it hasn't got rocks in it" - remember that?) But it wasn't. You chose your flavour of ice cream (from a selection of about 100) and then chose a thing to go with it (from a selection of about 100). D chose strawberry/cherry and A chose vanilla ("French vanilla?" "Errr... normal vanilla" "French vanilla?" "Err.. normal vanilla" - turns out that French vanilla is normal vanilla, there's also vanilla bean, and light vanilla), sorry, vanilla/apple.
Anyway, they take the ice cream, dollop it onto a granite worktop (stone) which is frozen (cold) and stir the extra bit into it, with a couple of palette knives.
We ate that outside, and A choked and was nearly sick - I picked him up and ran to the nearest flower bed that was out of sight of (most of) the people eating - kicking chairs and small children out of my way as I ran, but then he stopped and said "I've swallowed it". Which was a relief, but didn't provide a satisfactory explanation for what I'd just done, in the way that vomiting would.
We finally got to the place that did the boat tours, to find that there were no boat tours. Well, I couldn't find a place that had a boat that was doing tours. A couple of places looked like they would do tours, and some places did special tours (like evening meal tours), but there were no tours available.
While we were wandering around, we saw a seal in the water. I was holding D up so he could look through a telescope - "There's a seal" I said. "I can see a building site" he said. The seal flopped onto the dock, looked about and got back in the water, before I could persuade D to stop looking at the building site. A asked if we were going to see the whale again.
There were also pelicans there. My main experience of pelicans has been flocks of them flying over reefy glades, with beaks full of fish, as the sun sets behind them, in a slightly idyllic fashion, and David Attenborough's hushed tones describe what's going on. But these pelicans were just hanging about on the dock - mostly by a place that sold or collected bait or something like that. Like a common seagull or pigeon or something.
Here's a pelican swooping majestically above the waves.
Here's a penguin scrabbling around for bits of food like a common pigeon or seagull or something.
This post is a bit rambling isn't it? Sorry.
Anyway, to salve A and D's disappointment, we hired a powerboat. It wasn't very powerful, but it was powerful enough for me (and for them). - 10hp, if that means anything in boat world, and 16ft long. I didn't take many photos, because I was holding onto the steering wheel most of the time. But here's one:
We were passed by a police boat, going fairly swiftly, which made big waves in its wake. A and D thought that was exciting, other than that they spent a lot of the time lying down (which confused the people at the boat place when we got back). When asked, they said that they had fun, and would do it again though.
On the way back, we had to make a bathroom break at the same place - this time we went to a health food shop across the road, which had a snack bar. A and D asked for apple juice, the person serving us took some apples, put them in a juicer and gave the boys the juice. They said it didn't taste like apple juice, which reminded me (only a little) of a child I knew once who was shocked to find bones in chicken.
We went on the correct side of the road on the way back, through a very long, thin park. One of those parks that have exercise structures and instructions on them for doing exercise. Boys thought this was very exciting ("A playground. For grown ups.") and wanted to do all the exercises. Worse, they wanted me to do them first, so they could see what to do. Luckily, we'd missed a few out at the beginning. Also, if there wasn't a structure, just a sign, they missed it. (Like the sign that said: "Number 12, do some star jumps here.")
In the end, we'd done around 5 miles of likeabiking/walking, along with all the other adventures. Which was probably a record for A and D, and meant that they were pretty exhausted. But they had come close to exhausting me. When we got home S was watching CSI. And now I have to read S's report. (It's 56 pages long, but she claims it's mostly appendices).
First, we went to the beach, to try out the hovercraft, but I've already talked about that.
I had a look on some websites, to see if there was anything exciting we could do, that was within walking distance. (What with still being carless). It said that on the other side of the harbor, there were boat trips lasting about an hour. I told A and D about this, and they thought it was suitably exciting, and so off we set. Me on foot, them on their Likeabikes. I'd checked on Google Maps, and it said it was 2.4 miles to where we wanted to go. I was hopelessly optimistic, so off we set.
We walked along a fairly unpleasant road, with a pavement. On the other side of the road was a long, thin park with a path running through it. Irritatingly, there was absolutely nowhere to cross. We had done (according to good old GM) 1.7 miles, when the inevitable "wee coming" happened, so we went into a Ralph's supermarket, and used their bathroom (as I've learned to say). Which was a bit tricky as I had to carry the Likeabikes.
It was about time to refuel the boys, so we went to an ice cream place. D was absolutely convinced he wanted plain sorbet, but he got a free sample, and that persuaded him to have strawberry.
The ice cream place was called Cold Stone Creamery, and I imagined that was just a name (Like Red Rock Cider "It's not red, and it hasn't got rocks in it" - remember that?) But it wasn't. You chose your flavour of ice cream (from a selection of about 100) and then chose a thing to go with it (from a selection of about 100). D chose strawberry/cherry and A chose vanilla ("French vanilla?" "Errr... normal vanilla" "French vanilla?" "Err.. normal vanilla" - turns out that French vanilla is normal vanilla, there's also vanilla bean, and light vanilla), sorry, vanilla/apple.
Anyway, they take the ice cream, dollop it onto a granite worktop (stone) which is frozen (cold) and stir the extra bit into it, with a couple of palette knives.
We ate that outside, and A choked and was nearly sick - I picked him up and ran to the nearest flower bed that was out of sight of (most of) the people eating - kicking chairs and small children out of my way as I ran, but then he stopped and said "I've swallowed it". Which was a relief, but didn't provide a satisfactory explanation for what I'd just done, in the way that vomiting would.
We finally got to the place that did the boat tours, to find that there were no boat tours. Well, I couldn't find a place that had a boat that was doing tours. A couple of places looked like they would do tours, and some places did special tours (like evening meal tours), but there were no tours available.
While we were wandering around, we saw a seal in the water. I was holding D up so he could look through a telescope - "There's a seal" I said. "I can see a building site" he said. The seal flopped onto the dock, looked about and got back in the water, before I could persuade D to stop looking at the building site. A asked if we were going to see the whale again.
There were also pelicans there. My main experience of pelicans has been flocks of them flying over reefy glades, with beaks full of fish, as the sun sets behind them, in a slightly idyllic fashion, and David Attenborough's hushed tones describe what's going on. But these pelicans were just hanging about on the dock - mostly by a place that sold or collected bait or something like that. Like a common seagull or pigeon or something.
Here's a pelican swooping majestically above the waves.
Here's a penguin scrabbling around for bits of food like a common pigeon or seagull or something.
This post is a bit rambling isn't it? Sorry.
Anyway, to salve A and D's disappointment, we hired a powerboat. It wasn't very powerful, but it was powerful enough for me (and for them). - 10hp, if that means anything in boat world, and 16ft long. I didn't take many photos, because I was holding onto the steering wheel most of the time. But here's one:
We were passed by a police boat, going fairly swiftly, which made big waves in its wake. A and D thought that was exciting, other than that they spent a lot of the time lying down (which confused the people at the boat place when we got back). When asked, they said that they had fun, and would do it again though.
On the way back, we had to make a bathroom break at the same place - this time we went to a health food shop across the road, which had a snack bar. A and D asked for apple juice, the person serving us took some apples, put them in a juicer and gave the boys the juice. They said it didn't taste like apple juice, which reminded me (only a little) of a child I knew once who was shocked to find bones in chicken.
We went on the correct side of the road on the way back, through a very long, thin park. One of those parks that have exercise structures and instructions on them for doing exercise. Boys thought this was very exciting ("A playground. For grown ups.") and wanted to do all the exercises. Worse, they wanted me to do them first, so they could see what to do. Luckily, we'd missed a few out at the beginning. Also, if there wasn't a structure, just a sign, they missed it. (Like the sign that said: "Number 12, do some star jumps here.")
In the end, we'd done around 5 miles of likeabiking/walking, along with all the other adventures. Which was probably a record for A and D, and meant that they were pretty exhausted. But they had come close to exhausting me. When we got home S was watching CSI. And now I have to read S's report. (It's 56 pages long, but she claims it's mostly appendices).
Update on the hovercraft
We took the hovercraft to the beach - I thought it might work well on flat sand. But it doesn't. It sits there blowing air in a lot of directions, and not moving.
However, it did work shockingly well on water (well, it worked, which shocked me). It didn't reverse well, but it moved around at a moderate pace. A and D paddled in the water up to their knees, and pursued it, and were pursued by it, and tried to sink it.
They didn't really get the hang of using it - they just pressed forwards, and it sailed off into (potential) oblivion, and I had visions of it's battery running out and it sinking. Actually, as the battery got lower, the fan that was supposed to raise it off the water slowed down, and if you also tried to make the device go forward as well, the fan just stopped, and it didn't sink. Given that this fan (a) should make it go on the ground, and it doesn't anyway and (b) doesn't seem to be needed to make it go on water, and (c) and (d) makes quite a lot of noise and must eat batteries, I wonder if it would be OK without it.
The fan fills a skirt/cushion with air, and this raises the hovercraft. I have a plan to filk the skirt with something else (polystyrene beads?) and then disconnecting the fan, and seeing if that works.
Could have just bought a boat, I suppose.
However, it did work shockingly well on water (well, it worked, which shocked me). It didn't reverse well, but it moved around at a moderate pace. A and D paddled in the water up to their knees, and pursued it, and were pursued by it, and tried to sink it.
They didn't really get the hang of using it - they just pressed forwards, and it sailed off into (potential) oblivion, and I had visions of it's battery running out and it sinking. Actually, as the battery got lower, the fan that was supposed to raise it off the water slowed down, and if you also tried to make the device go forward as well, the fan just stopped, and it didn't sink. Given that this fan (a) should make it go on the ground, and it doesn't anyway and (b) doesn't seem to be needed to make it go on water, and (c) and (d) makes quite a lot of noise and must eat batteries, I wonder if it would be OK without it.
The fan fills a skirt/cushion with air, and this raises the hovercraft. I have a plan to filk the skirt with something else (polystyrene beads?) and then disconnecting the fan, and seeing if that works.
Could have just bought a boat, I suppose.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Trolley adventures
We are still are still carless, so this morning the boys and I got a taxi to the German kindergarten. After spending 20 dollars on a taxi there, it seemed excessively profligate to get one home again, so I waited. Instead of just sitting around for 3 hours, I walked about, and looked in shops. I went into a thrift shop and bought a book (The Golden Gate, by Vikram Seth, which I got about half way through several years ago, and then left on a plane).
Then I went further and found a hardware shop, which sold a trolley - the kind one can put children and stuff into and drag behind you. When we were in England, S had expressly forbidden me from buying such a thing, but that was in England, and maybe the rules are different here. (Besides, it's a long way from the car to the apartment, and it's me who has to make 5 trips carrying shopping bags). I was going to try to sneak it in past S, but I had forgotten my keys, so I had to knock and then look slightly sheepish with my trolley.
So this afternoon, the boys and I went to the beach. They sat in the trolley, and we made much faster progress than usual. I bought a basketball - I've wanted a basketball for ages, because there are basketball courts next to the playground and that would give me something more wholesome to do than sit and hope that other parents turn up and give me someone to talk to (and that they are not mad - as they often seem to be).
While I was in the shop, I saw a remote control hovercraft. I've always wanted a remote control hovercraft (in a bit of my mind that's not accessible to consciousness) and it was only $20 (plus tax, of course), so I bought it. Then I immediately regretted it. "Yes, sir, I know that this item you have bought is a completely useless piece of tat, but we are a beach side shop, and therefore not only permitted, but obliged to sell useless pieces of tat to impulsive consumers such as yourself." I also imagined that it was going to need about 100 batteries, and my supply of rechargeable batteries and battery charger haven't arrived yet.
[Aside: CoCE has the finest stationery cupboard I have ever seen. By a long way. It's got batteries. Batteries! In AA and AAA sizes! I don't know why, but it's tempting to never buy another battery again. Except (a) that's not very environmentally wholesome, and as I've got a supply of rechargeable batteries and a posh battery charger, batteries are effectively free anyway, and (b) there's probably a hidden camera somewhere, and then they'll sack me. (They'll probably wait a year before they sack me, because if you sack someone on an H1B visa, within a year of them starting their job, you have to pay their expenses to get home again). It always makes me think of that Dilbert book called "Build a better life through stealing office stationery supplies."]
Where was I? Oh yes, I opened the hovercraft and it had a battery for the remote control and a rechargeable battery pack (8 AA batteries - NiCad, rather than NiMH, but you can't have everything) and a battery charger. So I put the batteries in and turned it on and the fans spun sort of uselessly, and then stopped. So maybe the batteries were flat, or maybe it is a useless piece of tat.
Meanwhile, D was playing bulldozers with the remote control, so it made a sort of grating noise when you wiggled the levers (until I spent quite a while shaking it) and the skirt bit underneath seemed to need tucking in. But all will be revealed when the batteries are charged and we try it out tomorrow.
Then I went further and found a hardware shop, which sold a trolley - the kind one can put children and stuff into and drag behind you. When we were in England, S had expressly forbidden me from buying such a thing, but that was in England, and maybe the rules are different here. (Besides, it's a long way from the car to the apartment, and it's me who has to make 5 trips carrying shopping bags). I was going to try to sneak it in past S, but I had forgotten my keys, so I had to knock and then look slightly sheepish with my trolley.
So this afternoon, the boys and I went to the beach. They sat in the trolley, and we made much faster progress than usual. I bought a basketball - I've wanted a basketball for ages, because there are basketball courts next to the playground and that would give me something more wholesome to do than sit and hope that other parents turn up and give me someone to talk to (and that they are not mad - as they often seem to be).
While I was in the shop, I saw a remote control hovercraft. I've always wanted a remote control hovercraft (in a bit of my mind that's not accessible to consciousness) and it was only $20 (plus tax, of course), so I bought it. Then I immediately regretted it. "Yes, sir, I know that this item you have bought is a completely useless piece of tat, but we are a beach side shop, and therefore not only permitted, but obliged to sell useless pieces of tat to impulsive consumers such as yourself." I also imagined that it was going to need about 100 batteries, and my supply of rechargeable batteries and battery charger haven't arrived yet.
[Aside: CoCE has the finest stationery cupboard I have ever seen. By a long way. It's got batteries. Batteries! In AA and AAA sizes! I don't know why, but it's tempting to never buy another battery again. Except (a) that's not very environmentally wholesome, and as I've got a supply of rechargeable batteries and a posh battery charger, batteries are effectively free anyway, and (b) there's probably a hidden camera somewhere, and then they'll sack me. (They'll probably wait a year before they sack me, because if you sack someone on an H1B visa, within a year of them starting their job, you have to pay their expenses to get home again). It always makes me think of that Dilbert book called "Build a better life through stealing office stationery supplies."]
Where was I? Oh yes, I opened the hovercraft and it had a battery for the remote control and a rechargeable battery pack (8 AA batteries - NiCad, rather than NiMH, but you can't have everything) and a battery charger. So I put the batteries in and turned it on and the fans spun sort of uselessly, and then stopped. So maybe the batteries were flat, or maybe it is a useless piece of tat.
Meanwhile, D was playing bulldozers with the remote control, so it made a sort of grating noise when you wiggled the levers (until I spent quite a while shaking it) and the skirt bit underneath seemed to need tucking in. But all will be revealed when the batteries are charged and we try it out tomorrow.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
CSI
We've got cable TV in our current apartment thrown in with the price. And, as we're not paying (directly, anyway) we've got a lot of channels.
CSI is the most watched programme in the USA, and so there are a lot of repeats, on a lot of channels (that's without the new ones). Most evenings, it seems to be possible to watch 2 hours of CSI, and sometimes 3. S manages to watch almost nothing else. (Except we managed "My name is Earl" tonight).
If the new series of 24 clashes with CSI (and given how there's CSI everywhere, it's almost inevitable) we'll have to get divorced or something. And if we get divorced we have to give lots of money back to CoCE.
CSI is the most watched programme in the USA, and so there are a lot of repeats, on a lot of channels (that's without the new ones). Most evenings, it seems to be possible to watch 2 hours of CSI, and sometimes 3. S manages to watch almost nothing else. (Except we managed "My name is Earl" tonight).
If the new series of 24 clashes with CSI (and given how there's CSI everywhere, it's almost inevitable) we'll have to get divorced or something. And if we get divorced we have to give lots of money back to CoCE.
Squeaking Tyres
On American TV shows, the tyres squeak, when they go around corners. I always thought that was for dramatic effect, but it doesn't matter how slowly I drive around the corners in multi storey car parks, the tyres always squeak.
Eating out
Some things might be expensive, but eating out isn't one of them.
At our local convenience store, 6 English muffins cost $4, which is about 66c each. In the canteen at work, a muffin, toasted, with a plate and a knife to throw away, and butter or margo, costs 60c.
My whole idea of what should be paid in a restaurant has changed. There is an Indian restaurant near us, it looks quite good - it advertises outside that they use no butter, it's low fat, no artificial color or flavor. But it costs around $10 for a main course, and you have to add a tip and tax to that, so it will be about $14, which is 8 around 8 pounds, and includes rice and (organic) salad. Phew! It would have to be a special occasion to go there.
Instead, we go to the Mexican place next door, which is $5 for a burrito that I can't eat, which comes with guacamole. There are little pots to put salsa in (there's 4 kinds), freshly chopped coriander (I say cilantro now), sliced chillis and chopped onions and tomatoes.
There was discussion on the freakonomics blog about tipping recently. I tip pretty generously at places like that (20%-25%) because I reckon that I'm probably the only person with an English accent who wears a t-shirt that says "I am statistics Ninja", so they are going to remember me, and then next time, I'll get, well, I don't know what I'll get, but it will be good.
At our local convenience store, 6 English muffins cost $4, which is about 66c each. In the canteen at work, a muffin, toasted, with a plate and a knife to throw away, and butter or margo, costs 60c.
My whole idea of what should be paid in a restaurant has changed. There is an Indian restaurant near us, it looks quite good - it advertises outside that they use no butter, it's low fat, no artificial color or flavor. But it costs around $10 for a main course, and you have to add a tip and tax to that, so it will be about $14, which is 8 around 8 pounds, and includes rice and (organic) salad. Phew! It would have to be a special occasion to go there.
Instead, we go to the Mexican place next door, which is $5 for a burrito that I can't eat, which comes with guacamole. There are little pots to put salsa in (there's 4 kinds), freshly chopped coriander (I say cilantro now), sliced chillis and chopped onions and tomatoes.
There was discussion on the freakonomics blog about tipping recently. I tip pretty generously at places like that (20%-25%) because I reckon that I'm probably the only person with an English accent who wears a t-shirt that says "I am statistics Ninja", so they are going to remember me, and then next time, I'll get, well, I don't know what I'll get, but it will be good.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Water, water everywhere
I vaguely remember (possibly from Geography lessons in school - see Mr Roberts, I learned something in your dull lessons) that the definition of a desert is based on annual rainfall. I don't know what the annual rainfall is here, but it hasn't rained since we arrived (at the beginning of September, almost 6 weeks ago), although occasionally the weather forecast says that it might rain soon. So, if it's not a desert officially, it's got to be close.
despite this, everywhere is lush and green. Every house we have looked at had a lush green lawn. One place told us that the only gardening duty of the tenants was to water the lawn. Another that they were going to have automatic sprinklers put in. If one happens to to be awake in our apartment at about 4am, the sprinklers come on outside, and they are loud. In the morning, there are large puddles all over the paths.
It's the same on the bike path on the way to CoCE, the grass is lush and green, and there are puddles everywhere in the morning. No one (well, almost no one) seems to think this is weird or bad. Well, maybe the people who live in the place where the water comes from, and now don't have any.
CoCE seems slightly better. They use cleaned up urban runoff water to flush toilets and water the lawn. And it's not grass, it's something else, which (I like to think) doesn't need watering as often. But I can't believe that there's that much urban runoff left.
(Urban runoff, it seems, is grim stuff, and it's better to avoid chucking it in the sea - it's got engine oil and dog shit and all sorts of nasties in it.)
despite this, everywhere is lush and green. Every house we have looked at had a lush green lawn. One place told us that the only gardening duty of the tenants was to water the lawn. Another that they were going to have automatic sprinklers put in. If one happens to to be awake in our apartment at about 4am, the sprinklers come on outside, and they are loud. In the morning, there are large puddles all over the paths.
It's the same on the bike path on the way to CoCE, the grass is lush and green, and there are puddles everywhere in the morning. No one (well, almost no one) seems to think this is weird or bad. Well, maybe the people who live in the place where the water comes from, and now don't have any.
CoCE seems slightly better. They use cleaned up urban runoff water to flush toilets and water the lawn. And it's not grass, it's something else, which (I like to think) doesn't need watering as often. But I can't believe that there's that much urban runoff left.
(Urban runoff, it seems, is grim stuff, and it's better to avoid chucking it in the sea - it's got engine oil and dog shit and all sorts of nasties in it.)
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
No buts ...
I went to our local convenience store last night, to buy some butter. (We had interestingly different colored boiled potatoes to eat, but S wouldn't eat them without butter [or margo]). It's called a convenience store, because it's nearby. It should be called an inconvenience store, because it's almost physically impossible to carry enough money there to actually buy anything.
Anyway, it's run by a Korean lady, who is very friendly and nice, and knows D and A's names - she shouted their names when they went in, but they didn't notice, because of her accent they didn't understand what she was saying.
I asked her where the butter was. She didn't understand. "Butter", I said. (The best approximation I can do to my pronunciation is to say that it might almost rhyme with the way you say 'footer'.) I was about to start mimicking spreading something on bread, when she understood. (Which is good, my attempts at sign language usually just lead to confusion.)
"Ah!" she said "badder". So now I have to ask for badder. Honestly, it's bad enough having to pronounce the symbol b as 'baider' (I have to say that surprisingly often at work), I don't know if I can ask for badder.
Anyway, it's run by a Korean lady, who is very friendly and nice, and knows D and A's names - she shouted their names when they went in, but they didn't notice, because of her accent they didn't understand what she was saying.
I asked her where the butter was. She didn't understand. "Butter", I said. (The best approximation I can do to my pronunciation is to say that it might almost rhyme with the way you say 'footer'.) I was about to start mimicking spreading something on bread, when she understood. (Which is good, my attempts at sign language usually just lead to confusion.)
"Ah!" she said "badder". So now I have to ask for badder. Honestly, it's bad enough having to pronounce the symbol b as 'baider' (I have to say that surprisingly often at work), I don't know if I can ask for badder.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
A New Beach
On Saturday we went to look at the place we are going to be living, and looked to see how far it was from the beach. It was a bit hard to tell, because it’s down a steep hill, so the road winds a lot, and the shortest route (which the map lady sent us on) is quite complicated.
The beach is very different from where we are now. Fewer freaks and weirdos (as S put it). Well, no freaks and weirdos (that we saw). What it does have though, is aeroplanes. The planes are not so bad just where we are going to be living, but the boys and I walked (they likeabiked) along the path towards the airport. The planes varied, in how steeply they climbed and what angle they went when they took off, but when a big one came over us, they seemed very close, very loud, and very low. A and D thought it was quite exciting. There were quaint looking houses and villas all along the beach front – it must be a rather unrelaxing place to come on holiday (and when a tsunami comes, they are in a whole heap of trouble).
We met a man on a bike who’d come from
We drove through a weird ghost towny sort of place. Their used to be houses there but when the airport expanded they were right under the flight path at the end of the runway, so the airport bought the land, and knocked down all the houses. But it left the roads, so there is an area that looks like a town that a really strong wind blew through, about 40 years ago. There are still slightly recognizable boundaries, and small plants growing up through cracks in the street. The area is fenced off and is a nature reserve now.
La Brea Tar Pits
We went to La Brea Tar Pits today. The tar pits are, well, they are pits full of tar. Except where the tar has been dug out and then they are pits full of water, with really, really disgusting oil floating on top of them, and bubbles of natural gas bubbling up every now and then. Around the park there’s tar bubbling up from the ground – mostly in fenced off bits, but there are some little spots on the grass.
What’s interesting about the tar pits is that for about 40,000 years they acted as a trap and a preserver of animals that fell in. There are some staggering statistics of what has (so far) been dug out – something like 1,000,000 bones. Including 1600 wolf skulls, bits of wood, woolly mammoths, giant ground sloths, and all sorts of birds and bits of wood.
There’s a museum with the skeletons and things in it, and some displays, which was OK, but not desperately exciting.
It also smells pretty bad.
It’s all set in a park and nice and pleasant, but if Shell or Exxon or some other evil corporation had dumped a load of crude oil (‘cos that’s what it is) in a park where people went, there would be a big fuss. But it’s natural, so it’s OK.
(That’s not to defend Shell or Exxon – they are, of course, evil corporations, but it’s interesting that people mostly don’t mind.)
Final fact for the day - La Brea means tar, in Spanish. So the La Brea tar pits are the tar tar pits. NewScientist had a word for this sort of thing a while ago, but I forget what it is.
Thrift Shop
We went to a thrift (charity) shop today. S had been wanting to go for a long time, but we'd never got around to it. Anyway, today we went to Radio Shack (to swap S's cellphone for one with a battery that last more than 5 minutes) and two doors down was the Goodwill Donation Centre.
The shop was enormous, and had rows and rows of stuff. This is maybe the effect of living in an affluent area in a consumerist society, but with lots of poor people around to remind you to give stuff to people. Clothes were sorted by type and colour, but not by size, and there was no indication of size on them, so it was slightly arduous. I bought a collared t-shirt (tennis shirt? Is that what they are called) and a pair of shorts (Ralph Lauren). S bought some shoes, and not much else - I think there was too much choice.
Unlike charity shops that I'm familiar with, they sold electrical stuff. So we know where to come when we want a telly. I bought an electric grill as well. I have learnt that a grill to an American is something like a barbecue, that grills from beneath. A grill that grills from the top is a broiler. (It took me a few days to understand why our cooker didn't have a grill, until I looked it up on wikipedia.)
I had a plan to put the grill on the patio, and pretend it was a barbecue, but we used to empty the cat litter there, and I wasn't sure it was completely clean and nice. (It's hard to sweep up every last dreg - the edge of our balcony is above the people's below, so anything that goes over the edge has a good chance of landing on them /their stuff. I'm waiting for rain, but that hasn't happened yet.) So I did it in the kitchen and set the fire alarm off.
Poor D waited for a long time for his sweetcorn, and eventually gave up, it never really seemed to cook.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Price of Bread
Bread seems particularly expensive. It's hard to pay less than two dollars for a bog standard loaf of sliced bread, and easy to pay almost 4 dollars. Fresh bread is cheaper though - something like 1.29 for a large, fresh loaf.
Bananas are cheap though. 49c/lb, and 99c/lb for organic.
Bananas are cheap though. 49c/lb, and 99c/lb for organic.
The Map Lady
Today, we hired a car, because we had stuff to do at the weekend. As the previous car was paid for by CoCE, it had many optional extras, including a satellite navigation system. However, the new hire car doesn't, so today I bought one.
A and D think it's great. They call it The Map Lady (it's a female voice). They say "Daddy, why the lady saying 'Keep right'?". They have a Map Lady on their like-a-bikes, and today A sat in the trolley at the supermarket, while D pulled the trolley around saying "Right turn approaching in 5 miles". When the trolley crashed, they blamed it on the map lady.
A and D think it's great. They call it The Map Lady (it's a female voice). They say "Daddy, why the lady saying 'Keep right'?". They have a Map Lady on their like-a-bikes, and today A sat in the trolley at the supermarket, while D pulled the trolley around saying "Right turn approaching in 5 miles". When the trolley crashed, they blamed it on the map lady.
mmmm.... watermelon
I've always liked watermelon (or any kind of melon) and here they are cheap. They sell by the pound, and in supermarkets are typically 50c/pound, so a 16 pound watermelon (and that's a pretty big watermelon) costs $8. A couple of days ago, I bought a watermelon, not a massive one, probably only 10 lbs. And last night I ate it. Well, not all of it, S and the boys had a slice each, and I had the rest.
Well they're not called watermelon for nothing. I've never micturated like I micturated after that. I had to get up and piss in the night about 8 times, and I've been three times at work today. Still, it's probably a week or so's 5 a day (except here it's 4 and a half a day, 'cos 5 was too confusing).
Well they're not called watermelon for nothing. I've never micturated like I micturated after that. I had to get up and piss in the night about 8 times, and I've been three times at work today. Still, it's probably a week or so's 5 a day (except here it's 4 and a half a day, 'cos 5 was too confusing).
Thursday, October 05, 2006
World's worst credit card
We've got no credit history here. Which means that no one will consider lending us any money. It also means that we don't look good when we try to rent a place. The way to get a better credit rating is to borrow money, and then pay it back. However, we can't, because no one will lend us any money.
So I went to the Household Bank website, and after much faffing, found a number to ring someone. They'll give us a credit card. Except they won't give us credit, because we have to put the money in first. And they charge $35 to set it up, and then $3.50 per month. So it's a bit crap, but it's the best we can do.
So I went to the Household Bank website, and after much faffing, found a number to ring someone. They'll give us a credit card. Except they won't give us credit, because we have to put the money in first. And they charge $35 to set it up, and then $3.50 per month. So it's a bit crap, but it's the best we can do.
Car(e)less
I had to return the hire car this morning, but we haven't managed to get our new car yet. So, we're carless, which was careless of me (geddit?). The people at International Autos were lovely and efficient while they were selling you a car, but once you're committed, they take about 2 days to answer each email.
And I think I've done everything, and they say "We'll send you the contract tomorrow." And I say "How long will it take to get here? Can you send it quickly?" and there's a chance that the contract will get here before the email reply.
And I think I've done everything, and they say "We'll send you the contract tomorrow." And I say "How long will it take to get here? Can you send it quickly?" and there's a chance that the contract will get here before the email reply.
Not sleeping in my office
We found somewhere to live, which is nice.
It looks like a large apartment, but is actually a condominium (condo). Condo is actually a legal, not a descriptive term, it's just that most condos have a similar set up, so the term is almost descriptive. (Some condos look like houses, some look like apartments; if you care, click the link).
The landlady (I don't think they say that here) is a relatively recent immigrant from Hungary, which is good, because she understood that we didn't have a credit history. (Some owners didn't - they said "Yeah, the agency will check your credit history", and I'd say "no, they won't", I'd rung and checked, so I knew. They'd say "Oh, they'll check it, it will be fine", and repeat.)
Everywhere makes you fill out an application form, and then they select from everyone who filled one out. You also have to pay something (usually $20) for them to do the credit check. However, we didn't.
Anyway, back to the apartment. It's in a complex - lots of condo are in complexes, these vary from three to lots of dwellings. Our complex is about 500. It's got two swimming pools (one is ostensibly for kiddies, and one for growed ups, but no one cares really), a gym, sauna (separate male and female. S doesn't approve of that), jacuzzi (separate again), and a dry cleaners. There's also a laundry on site, and it's next to the playground.
Aside: While we were looking at one apartment, there was a washer and a dryer, and the owner said "Ooh, we'll take that out, you don't want a washing machine in your house". I asked why not, and they said "Ooh, what if it leaks", someone else (who was also looking around) told a story of a friend of theirs whose washing machine leaked, and how dreadful it was. I always thought that it was bizarre that people didn't have washing machines - that would be a sign of poverty in the UK, but here it's not. But everyone has dishwashers. (We've only seen one place that didn't).
The place itself is pretty large, 1300 sq ft, or so (which means nothing to me) but that means an OK sized living room, with a sort of dining area and kitchen attached, 3 decent sized bedrooms (if I were an estate agent I'd call them double bedrooms), and 2 bathrooms (one with a bath, one with a shower, some houses have half and 3/4 bathrooms in them, according to the ads, I've never worked out what that means, or found anyone who knows who can tell me).
It's near the beach (15 minute walk, if you haven't got 2 4 year olds), and also near the airport. Being near the airport has one large-ish con, which is that you can hear the planes. But actually, it's to the side of the airport, so when the planes are taking off and landing, they are close to the ground, and the sound can't reach you. You can be a lot further from the airport and under the flight path and it's a lot louder (I found some noise maps on the web, which showed where the noise was). We are also on the correct side of the block, to reduce the noise. (We noticed the sound of the planes as we went in, but it wasn't disruptive).
Being near the airport has two pros. First, is that there is public transport to and from the airport, to most places, so we can actually get a bus, or even (shock!) a train to places. Second is that it's near the airport, obviously. We will be about 8 miles from CoCE there, a colleague lives about 15 miles in the other direction (about 23 miles to the airport, maths wizards). On the Friday of a holiday weekend, she had some friends visit. It took her 3 hours to get to the airport, and 3 hours to get home again. So, when y'all come to visit, that will be pretty handy.
I can cycle to CoCE, I think it's around eight and a half miles, via the scenic route. There's a creek (well, it's called a creek, it's really a concrete drainage channel) between there and CoCE, and there aren't many places to get across it - the quickest involves a rather busy, and unpleasant, and large road (which currently has roadworks which has narrowed it, so cars drive about 6 inches from the barrier). The scenic route is much, much more scenic, and a bit further. It's got about 3/4 of a mile which isn't on bike path, and most of the bike path is along the beach, past the restored wetlands (where, I've heard, one sees flamingoes on the way to work), which I like the idea of. (I guess you get blase though - although I've been riding for 2 weeks, I have not a hint of blaseness yet, at the things I ride past on the way to work.)
The complex is a tiny bit naff, it reminds me of the line in the Frank Zappa song 'Flakes' (actually, a lot reminds me of the line in the Frank Zappa song Flakes) "All that we've got here's American made, it's a little bit cheesy but it's nicely displayed." There's a little wooden bridge over a stream that you have to go over to get in - I wasn't absolutely sure, but it didn't look like a real stream - I mean, obviously it wasn't a real stream, but it pumped water into one end, and the water went down a plughole at the other. After a minute or two of this, the process stopped, and the water came out of the plughole, and went back the other way. There was also absolutely no algae or anything similar in it, so I suspect it's actually 20% Domestos. One day I'm going to write another post about water here, so I mustn't digress now.
Oh, actually, I could have digressed, because I've finished.
It looks like a large apartment, but is actually a condominium (condo). Condo is actually a legal, not a descriptive term, it's just that most condos have a similar set up, so the term is almost descriptive. (Some condos look like houses, some look like apartments; if you care, click the link).
The landlady (I don't think they say that here) is a relatively recent immigrant from Hungary, which is good, because she understood that we didn't have a credit history. (Some owners didn't - they said "Yeah, the agency will check your credit history", and I'd say "no, they won't", I'd rung and checked, so I knew. They'd say "Oh, they'll check it, it will be fine", and repeat.)
Everywhere makes you fill out an application form, and then they select from everyone who filled one out. You also have to pay something (usually $20) for them to do the credit check. However, we didn't.
Anyway, back to the apartment. It's in a complex - lots of condo are in complexes, these vary from three to lots of dwellings. Our complex is about 500. It's got two swimming pools (one is ostensibly for kiddies, and one for growed ups, but no one cares really), a gym, sauna (separate male and female. S doesn't approve of that), jacuzzi (separate again), and a dry cleaners. There's also a laundry on site, and it's next to the playground.
Aside: While we were looking at one apartment, there was a washer and a dryer, and the owner said "Ooh, we'll take that out, you don't want a washing machine in your house". I asked why not, and they said "Ooh, what if it leaks", someone else (who was also looking around) told a story of a friend of theirs whose washing machine leaked, and how dreadful it was. I always thought that it was bizarre that people didn't have washing machines - that would be a sign of poverty in the UK, but here it's not. But everyone has dishwashers. (We've only seen one place that didn't).
The place itself is pretty large, 1300 sq ft, or so (which means nothing to me) but that means an OK sized living room, with a sort of dining area and kitchen attached, 3 decent sized bedrooms (if I were an estate agent I'd call them double bedrooms), and 2 bathrooms (one with a bath, one with a shower, some houses have half and 3/4 bathrooms in them, according to the ads, I've never worked out what that means, or found anyone who knows who can tell me).
It's near the beach (15 minute walk, if you haven't got 2 4 year olds), and also near the airport. Being near the airport has one large-ish con, which is that you can hear the planes. But actually, it's to the side of the airport, so when the planes are taking off and landing, they are close to the ground, and the sound can't reach you. You can be a lot further from the airport and under the flight path and it's a lot louder (I found some noise maps on the web, which showed where the noise was). We are also on the correct side of the block, to reduce the noise. (We noticed the sound of the planes as we went in, but it wasn't disruptive).
Being near the airport has two pros. First, is that there is public transport to and from the airport, to most places, so we can actually get a bus, or even (shock!) a train to places. Second is that it's near the airport, obviously. We will be about 8 miles from CoCE there, a colleague lives about 15 miles in the other direction (about 23 miles to the airport, maths wizards). On the Friday of a holiday weekend, she had some friends visit. It took her 3 hours to get to the airport, and 3 hours to get home again. So, when y'all come to visit, that will be pretty handy.
I can cycle to CoCE, I think it's around eight and a half miles, via the scenic route. There's a creek (well, it's called a creek, it's really a concrete drainage channel) between there and CoCE, and there aren't many places to get across it - the quickest involves a rather busy, and unpleasant, and large road (which currently has roadworks which has narrowed it, so cars drive about 6 inches from the barrier). The scenic route is much, much more scenic, and a bit further. It's got about 3/4 of a mile which isn't on bike path, and most of the bike path is along the beach, past the restored wetlands (where, I've heard, one sees flamingoes on the way to work), which I like the idea of. (I guess you get blase though - although I've been riding for 2 weeks, I have not a hint of blaseness yet, at the things I ride past on the way to work.)
The complex is a tiny bit naff, it reminds me of the line in the Frank Zappa song 'Flakes' (actually, a lot reminds me of the line in the Frank Zappa song Flakes) "All that we've got here's American made, it's a little bit cheesy but it's nicely displayed." There's a little wooden bridge over a stream that you have to go over to get in - I wasn't absolutely sure, but it didn't look like a real stream - I mean, obviously it wasn't a real stream, but it pumped water into one end, and the water went down a plughole at the other. After a minute or two of this, the process stopped, and the water came out of the plughole, and went back the other way. There was also absolutely no algae or anything similar in it, so I suspect it's actually 20% Domestos. One day I'm going to write another post about water here, so I mustn't digress now.
Oh, actually, I could have digressed, because I've finished.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Driving Test (part 2)
Today, I successfully took the written part of my driving test. There was more waiting than yesterday, and the whole process took about an hour. I took my ticket, waited, saw the first person at the desk and paid my money. Behind each desk on the ceiling were eye test cards, a little like those in opticians, except all the letters were the same size.
I had my photo and thumb print taken. Then I went to the testing area - I sat at a school desk, with the chair attached, just like in The Simpsons, and put little crosses in the little boxes.
I scored 34 out of 36 (30 is the pass mark first time, if you fail it first time the pass mark goes up to 33). I got one wrong, which was about when you've had an accident, as well as driving license information, what else do you have to exchange with the other driver:
- registration
- registration and insurance details
- registration and insurance details and home address
I said 'c'. But it wasn't.
I got the other one wrong, because I missed one out. (I was going to go back and check but I couldn't be bothered, I'd have been really peeved if I'd missed it by one).
I had my photo and thumb print taken. Then I went to the testing area - I sat at a school desk, with the chair attached, just like in The Simpsons, and put little crosses in the little boxes.
I scored 34 out of 36 (30 is the pass mark first time, if you fail it first time the pass mark goes up to 33). I got one wrong, which was about when you've had an accident, as well as driving license information, what else do you have to exchange with the other driver:
- registration
- registration and insurance details
- registration and insurance details and home address
I said 'c'. But it wasn't.
I got the other one wrong, because I missed one out. (I was going to go back and check but I couldn't be bothered, I'd have been really peeved if I'd missed it by one).
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Present
Someone just came to my office and said that they had finally got my 'new hire gift'. I didn't know that I was due a new hire gift, so it was rather exciting. I got a bag (they called it a duffel bag, but it didn't look like one to me) with Corporation of Current Employment's logo on the side, and a $30 gift certificate to spend in the company store.
I did my Christmas shopping, so I can't tell what I got, 'cos it will spoil the surprise. Oh, all right then. I bought a travel coffee cup thing - I'm going to give that to S, because when we moved into the apartment they gave us two paper cups with lids (like you get at Starbucks) to drink coffee from. S keeps rinsing them out and reusing them. Actually, I got two of them, 'cos if she's having one, I want one too.
I bought two plastic water bottles for A and D, with the CoCE logo on the side, and a DVD on the history of CoCE, which I'm going to give to mum, so that she can see be convinced of what a lovely place this is, and not the evil, right wing, corporate, republican, arms dealing, component of the military industrial complex that she believes (or might believe). But I'm not going to wait for Christmas for that.
There was a special screening of the film here. Actually, it wasn't that convincing.
But that came to $30, so I don't have any Christmas presents left. Maybe I could give someone the bag.
I did my Christmas shopping, so I can't tell what I got, 'cos it will spoil the surprise. Oh, all right then. I bought a travel coffee cup thing - I'm going to give that to S, because when we moved into the apartment they gave us two paper cups with lids (like you get at Starbucks) to drink coffee from. S keeps rinsing them out and reusing them. Actually, I got two of them, 'cos if she's having one, I want one too.
I bought two plastic water bottles for A and D, with the CoCE logo on the side, and a DVD on the history of CoCE, which I'm going to give to mum, so that she can see be convinced of what a lovely place this is, and not the evil, right wing, corporate, republican, arms dealing, component of the military industrial complex that she believes (or might believe). But I'm not going to wait for Christmas for that.
There was a special screening of the film here. Actually, it wasn't that convincing.
But that came to $30, so I don't have any Christmas presents left. Maybe I could give someone the bag.
Driving test (part 1)
I battled my way through the extraordinarily complex system to make a telephone booking at the Department of Motor Vehicles (I finally found out what DMV stood for - I'd imagined that the D had to be for Drivers, as it is in the UK). You have to type in, on the telephone the day and the time that you want an appointment. It then spends a while checking the system, and says that there are no appointments at that time. What it doesn't tell you is when the appointments actually are.
Anyway, my appointment was made, and I dutifully cycled there. There was nowhere to tie up my bike - how do they think people get there if they haven't got a driving licence? I went in, was given a form to fill out, and a ticket with my number on.
I had barely filled out the form, when my number was called. I went to the desk, and showed my social security card and UK driving licence. "Need passport and visa, or green card to prove permission to work" said the man. "But you can't get a SS card without permission to work" I protested. (I protested very gently, 'cos I've already learned with US bureaucracy there's no point protesting at all.) "Need passport and visa, or green card to prove permission to work" said the man. I said a cheery goodbye, got back on my bicycle and went to work.
I seemed to have lost one of my gloves on the way though.
Anyway, my appointment was made, and I dutifully cycled there. There was nowhere to tie up my bike - how do they think people get there if they haven't got a driving licence? I went in, was given a form to fill out, and a ticket with my number on.
I had barely filled out the form, when my number was called. I went to the desk, and showed my social security card and UK driving licence. "Need passport and visa, or green card to prove permission to work" said the man. "But you can't get a SS card without permission to work" I protested. (I protested very gently, 'cos I've already learned with US bureaucracy there's no point protesting at all.) "Need passport and visa, or green card to prove permission to work" said the man. I said a cheery goodbye, got back on my bicycle and went to work.
I seemed to have lost one of my gloves on the way though.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
More on houses
We've spent most of the day looking at houses. First we drove to one that we'd already looked at - it's been available almost two months, but it was 30 minutes from Corporation of Current Employment, and we thought that was just too far. Weird gated community as well.
Then we drove to the other side of town, to look at an apartment that claimed to be 2 bedroom, two bathrooms, plus a den (a den, according to the dictionary that pops up on Google, is A secluded room for study or relaxation). First, A banged himself, just below his eye, on a door handle, which didn't set things off well. Then the place had a large-ish entrance hall, which led into the living room/dining room/ kitchen, and then there was a bedroom, with no door, and an enormouse bathroom. That was it. The large entrance hall turned out to be a bedroom and a den.
Then we looked at a house about 5 miles from CCE. It had a converted garage, which was a bedroom, but was OK. The drive was so steep, that you couldn't drive up it without scraping the car, so the garage was no use as a garage anyway. There were steps leading down into that bedroom, and the floor was tiled, so easy to clear up any boy related bedroom disasters.
When we got home, I rang another place nearby. It said it was over three stores, which I took to be a typo, meaning it was three storeys. But it wasn't, it was three shops, on a busy street. You accessed it at the back, up some stairs, and then there was a large outside area, and a path all the way around. It claimed to have two bedrooms, a dining room, a den, and a living room. But it only seemed to have three rooms. I kept opening doors to see if there was a missing room somewhere, but I couldn't find one.
Then we drove to the other side of town, to look at an apartment that claimed to be 2 bedroom, two bathrooms, plus a den (a den, according to the dictionary that pops up on Google, is A secluded room for study or relaxation). First, A banged himself, just below his eye, on a door handle, which didn't set things off well. Then the place had a large-ish entrance hall, which led into the living room/dining room/ kitchen, and then there was a bedroom, with no door, and an enormouse bathroom. That was it. The large entrance hall turned out to be a bedroom and a den.
Then we looked at a house about 5 miles from CCE. It had a converted garage, which was a bedroom, but was OK. The drive was so steep, that you couldn't drive up it without scraping the car, so the garage was no use as a garage anyway. There were steps leading down into that bedroom, and the floor was tiled, so easy to clear up any boy related bedroom disasters.
When we got home, I rang another place nearby. It said it was over three stores, which I took to be a typo, meaning it was three storeys. But it wasn't, it was three shops, on a busy street. You accessed it at the back, up some stairs, and then there was a large outside area, and a path all the way around. It claimed to have two bedrooms, a dining room, a den, and a living room. But it only seemed to have three rooms. I kept opening doors to see if there was a missing room somewhere, but I couldn't find one.
Trapped
Well, dramatic license there. No one is actually trapped. But D has managed to lock the bathroom door, and then close it. Luckily, he is on the correct side. The light and the fan are on though, which is a bit irritating.
I tried turning it off by randomly flipping switches on the fuse box thing, which worked. But I turned off the computer first, which didn't go down a storm.
I tried turning it off by randomly flipping switches on the fuse box thing, which worked. But I turned off the computer first, which didn't go down a storm.
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