Pledge Drives Annoy Blogger

Pledge drives are SOOOO annoying, especially when you're driving.

Of course I'm talking about those beg-a-thons public radio stations put on about four times a year.

For days and days and days, regular informative programming, sometimes the only news I get, is interrupted by interminable requests for money, punctuated by an infinitely repeated toll-free number for making a pledge.

It’s endless.

And no matter what they tell you, one thing that doesn't end the pledge drive is making a pledge. They make it sound like if they just reach their goal for that hour, they'll stop. But they never do. They just set another goal.

During those endless pledge-drive days, I'll go to extremes to avoid listening. I may go as far as changing to a (gasp) commercial station or just driving in silence.

I'm not saying we shouldn't support our local public radio and television stations. I just wish there were a less annoying way for them to remind us that we need to support them.

I'm sure the public radio people hate delivering the excruciating upbeat chatter as much as I hate listening to it. Who cares if Glen in Castle Rock just became an evergreen partner member? I'm sure that if there were a better way to raise money, they would.

It might help to look at the up-side to pledging. Sometimes they give you stuff if you donate enough. I have a couple of cool public radio coffee mugs. I even have a tote bag. It makes me look smart when I use it to shop. 

I really like public radio when it's not pledge drive time. It's about the only source of broadcasted information that doesn't wallow in breathless sensationalism. National Public Radio in particular delivers balanced, well-crafted journalism.

Oh sure, there's the occasional annoying feature about some obscure musician that I just don't care about. I can live without the insipid sharing of recipes, especially at holiday time.

But nothing good comes free in this life. If I have to change the channel for a few weeks every year, then so be it.

Hmm – I suppose if you wanted to make a substantial donation to BillsWeek, I could send you a coffee mug.

With Gay Rights, It's Personal

I didn't realize just how invested I was in the Supreme Court's rulings until I learned that they had struck down key components of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and effectively killed California's Proposition 8 which outlawed LGBT marriage. While I have always been in favor of equal marriage rights for everyone, it wasn't something I thought I was personally invested in.

But whenever these gay rights battles rage, I take it personally. Most straight white people in this country probably haven't suffered the indignity of having their basic civil liberties voted on. But the "tyranny of the majority" is no academic matter when your neighbors can take your rights away, be it related to legalized marriage, hate crime legislation, immigration, voter identification, and so on. When nine people in Washington get to decide on whether you are entitled to something that most people take for granted, it's hard not to feel like you are under attack even in this free country of ours.

Today, things went our way. But there are still people out there who hate us enough to wish us second class status or worse. I have just a few things to say to them:

1. My right to freedom and equality outweighs your right to the "freedom of religion" you are claiming. What you really want is the freedom to impose your religious beliefs on me. That's not freedom. That's what the Taliban does.

2. GAY MARRIAGE IS TRADITIONAL MARRIAGE. Or, proponents of same sex marriage are fighting for access to traditional marriage. It's really not very radical to want what everyone else has. Early in the gay rights movement, it was common for LGBTs to claim that they didn't want to emulate marriage, that alternative models of partnership should be considered. Now that was radical. How times have changed.

3. Isn't it illogical that the people who condemn us for being unable to sustain committed relationships are the same ones who go out of their way to prevent us from having access to the institution which enshrines commitment? Marriage contributes to stability to society. There is little doubt that the 1,000 or so rights that automatically come with marriage strengthen a family, regardless of the parents' genders.

4. My gay marriage (if I ever get to have one) is no threat whatsoever to any straight marriage anywhere. Divorce, domestic violence, the economy - all are more of a threat to a straight marriage than whether two dudes or two chicks down the street are joined in matrimony.

We aren't there yet. There are still states, including Colorado, where gay marriage is illegal.

But, as a result of today's rulings, more than ever before, my boyfriend and I, while not making any commitments just yet, can consider the very concrete possibility that we may someday have the federally recognized option of actually getting legally and officially married.

Rethinking the Hermit

Remember the old hermit in the cartoons who lived in a run down cabin deep in the woods? With his long beard and bare feet, he eschewed contact with other people, keeping company with only his shot gun and moonshine. People from the outside world would occasionally run across the old coot but would retreat in a hurry when confronted by his surly aversion to hospitality. He was a holdout from the pre-modern world, living off the grid, beyond the reach of telephones and other technology which might link him to others.

You'd rarely think about why he ended up that way. Perhaps he was abused as a child. Maybe it was a life-style preference. Maybe he was just plain crazy.

He was almost always a man. You didn't hear of many women living alone in the woods, unless they were crazy old witches who ate lost children.

Even though his was not a glorified existence to which one would aspire, I've often fantasized about being a hermit. I enjoy my time alone.

It's not that I'm antisocial - ok, yes it is. I like to turn the phone off so it doesn't interrupt whatever I'm doing. I hate to be bothered, especially when the call is from a telemarketer or one of those increasingly annoying charity groups that will just happen to be driving their truck through my neighborhood and want to pick up my castoffs.

But I could never live out in the woods. Too much quiet makes my ears ring. I like the sound of traffic. I need 24 hour access to a supermarket, where my preferred time to shop is 4:30 a.m. - when no one else is there. I require convenient take out food - which I take home and eat alone.

I'd be more of an urban hermit.

Perhaps in the 21st century, most hermits are urban. You might see them out and about, but they don't make eye contact. They close the shades in the middle of the day so they don't have to see you through the window. City hermits may or may not guard their moonshine with a shot gun, but they might have multiple locks on the front door.

I'd only be a mediocre hermit. I don't always yell at visitors, just kids when they throw rocks at my window. I don't brandish a shotgun - just, occasionally, my middle finger. I drink Diet Coke, not moonshine.

Choosing solitude has its risks. I've heard stories about the mummified remains of urban hermits found sitting in reclining chairs, the television still turned on to the channel they were watching years ago when they died. 

No risk of me isolating to that extent. I'd prefer to think I'll die with a little more drama, leaving a vast fortune to my cats, much to the annoyance of my human loved ones, and zealously guarding my stash of Diet Coke with a flick of the finger to the end.

You Just Have to Set Priorities

I thought I'd take a break from ranting about my new house and all its problems. Even I have trouble complaining that much. Instead, with the move behind me, I thought I'd step back and focus on what's really important.

For example, I think my life would be better if I was more attentive to my spirituality. I've been told that you don't really get the full benefit of meditation until you do it for at least an hour a day.

See, you have to make room in your life for what really matters.

Of course health is important too. Without health, you have nothing. My doctor says I must exercise a half hour a day to ensure heart health.

In addition, a good diet which requires fresh vegetables and lean meats also promotes health. It's too expensive to eat out for healthy food all the time, so you'd best prepare your salads and chicken breasts at home. Between the shopping (which you do more often because fresh stuff doesn't keep) and meal preparation time, that averages out to about 45 minutes per day.

If you have a lawn, you probably spend a couple hours a week keeping it nice and that's good exercise.

And rest. You need plenty of rest. The average adult requires way more sleep than they usually get. Eight hours is usually not realistic, so let's say seven hours per day.

And of course you have to work. It's just a given that we spend a minimum of eight hours per day at our jobs. If you live in a metropolitan area, you probably spent at least an hour in the car driving to and from the office daily - more on days when you have errands to run or evening activities to attend.

This is the stuff that matters.

I don't know what the recommended time is that you spend with your spouse and/or kids. My feeling is that most people cut back on this to accommodate more urgent activities. Of course if you chauffer a couple kids around to music lessons or soccer practice, that eats up some hours.

And at some point the laundry needs to be done.

And then there's the more optional stuff. Like Facebook. You can live without it for one day, but you can really fall behind if you're not careful. It takes time to read all the posts about the kid of someone you don't remember going to high school with. And if you click links to articles about creeping communism in the Obama administration, and videos of the most adorable kittens ever, you've been on line a good hour. And that doesn't include Instagram, Pin Interest, and the other stuff you have to check.

And be honest: you know you spend at least two hours a day watching television. It's imperative that you check the weather for tomorrow and keep track of who's getting voted off whatever reality program your office mates are into.

It seems like a lot, but we can have it all if we really try. You just have to set your priorities. And of course you have to make everything a top priority.

Screw it. I'm going to order a pizza.

New Home Continues to Build Character

Friday on my lunch break, I wandered around the Home Depot garden center with a glazed look in my eye. I picked out some heavy duty work gloves, but I wasn't sure what kind of little diggy thing to buy for planting flowers. I don't even know what those diggy things are called. I also needed a big clipper thing for cutting back dead branches. Have you ever been to the Home Depot garden department? It's huge! Completely overwhelming.

I appreciate a nice green space. I love a good stroll in the garden or a romp on the grass. I enjoy seeing trees and flowers and nice landscaping. But I'm an "appreciator," not a "doer." I'm nearly as handy with garden tools as I am with regular tools, which is to say, not very handy.

As a teenager I mowed the lawn for the family home. I hated it. I sneezed and sniffled over row after row of grass, only to have my dad tell me what a terrible job I'd done. I wasn't good at edges, apparently, or something. I never quite got it.

What I did very consciously know was that when I grew up and lived on my own, I would NEVER mow a lawn. I would live in apartments and condominiums where that was done for me. For that matter, I looked forward to the time when I would never again lift a snow shovel in winter.

I've completely succeeded. I haven't mowed a lawn since the 1980s and I've only shoveled snow once in my adulthood, and that was to keep my mother from going out and doing it herself because the snow removal guy was late.

Last week, I gazed out the large picture window in my new living room. The shrubs were looking pretty mangy and the weeds were starting to proliferate between the front door and the patio. I wondered when the lawn and garden service would be out to clean it up. Since my house is legally a condo with "common area" upkeep reportedly provided by the homeowners' association, I just assumed this would be taken care of.

As I looked around at neighboring condos, I noticed that the vegetation in front of some looked very tidy and well groomed.

At what point do you suppose the obvious started to dawn on me?

I excel at denial. Plus, I've been busy dealing with the inside of the house, like deciding where to put towel racks in the bathroom (there are none) and what color to paint the bedroom. After about three days of a little thought percolating in the back of my mind, it finally occurred to me that I might be responsible for my own landscaping.

Rage grappled with panic for control over my response to the situation. Rage pooled around the growing list of frustrations with this place and how some of these "little" details should have been but were not disclosed to me before closing. The panic was simpler: I simply didn't have a clue what to do with those half dead bushes out front. Paving them over seemed the best option.

I sought out a friendly neighbor for clarification. I found her seated amongst her own bushes, clipper in hand, pulled weeds littering the sidewalk. I asked her what I already knew.

Turns out that to save money, this very casual and laid back HOA decided a while back to limit the lawn service and for each person to keep up their own little areas themselves. In addition, the snow removal service was eliminated. Everyone just "pitches in" when it snows.

Newly trimmed bushes - there's me in the window
and Charles inside the front door.

Recourse?

I could kick myself black and blue for not asking the right questions, although who could have known all the questions which should have been asked?

I could consult a lawyer and sue someone, which would cost everyone a lot of money and accomplish very little.

Or I could suck it up and deal with it. Hence my lunch time visit to Home Depot.

Early Saturday morning I was outside with some clippers and my new gloves, snapping off the dead parts of a couple scroungy bushes. With satisfaction, I admired my work. It looked a lot better. At least now I don't have to be embarrassed when the neighbors look my way.

I guess I'd better pick up a snow shovel at some point.

Character, Character, and More Character

My new home continues to impress me with examples of its distinctive character.

Previously in BillsWeek, I discussed a few of the property's features about which I had failed to ask before purchasing. I struggled with a number of disconcerting surprises including:

• The total absence of drawers in the kitchen
• The knob on the back door which comes off in your hand if you turn it the wrong way
• The bump in the garage that scrapes the bottom of my car

My intention was to view each newly discovered foible as a sign, not of a bottomless money pit which languished most recently as a cheaply maintained rental, but of a finely aged and well lived in home of great character. Instead of being annoyed that I have to organize all of my forks in a canister on the counter, I choose to revel in my kitchen's unique charm.

But appreciating my house's character is getting harder to do. The problems, I mean characteristic attributes, just keep coming.

• One of the window air conditioners that the previous owner so generously left behind is not only too filthy to ever use,  but is also apparently the ideal habitat for a community of wasps. I didn't know this until I pulled the appliance out of the window onto my bedroom floor.
• The home security system alarm goes off whenever my cat Charles jumps onto the window sill. Ok, strictly speaking, that's more about the crappy alarm system than the house, but it's still annoying.
• The floor beneath the washing machine is uneven. I know when it's reached spin cycle because the living room floor vibrates at Richter scale 4.8.
• The bathtub bottom is covered with cute little plastic fish stickers that are supposed to keep you from slipping during a shower. I hate them. I think they look trashy. Every now and then I try to peal one off. Whenever I succeed, I not only have a sticky fish in my hand, but a few chunks of enamel. My bathtub is pockmarked where the finish is chipping away. I am afraid to take a bath because little tub shards sticking to my nether regions is not conducive to a relaxing soak.
• Charles' favorite window is in the kitchen above the sink. He leaps from the floor below, banking off the counter near whatever food I'm working with, into the window. Not only does it startle me, but I hear my late mother's voice decrying the unhygienic practice of allowing animals in the kitchen, let alone on the counter.
• Ants. Millions of them. So many ants. If you were to make a movie about ants taking over the world, it would look like my dining room floor. Ant poison? They laugh, devour it, and move on to the cat food. I've received some suggestions from Facebook friends about how to deal with this problem. Next up is the thing you plug into the wall which uses the electric power lines throughout the house to somehow vibrate them away. If that doesn't work, an exorcism might not be out of the question.

I don't regret buying this house. I can't regret it. I'm stuck with it. The best thing to do is take responsibility for my new property and deal with each issue as best I can. And I strive to see the positive side. It's still bigger than my old place, and I like the wood floors. I have a washing machine with a spin cycle. I got to buy a new swamp cooler which I will enjoy when the weather gets hot enough. I love the neighborhood. And it's nice to have a kitchen window.

Does anyone want a couple of used air conditioners?

New Home Riddled With Problems, I Mean, Character

The move is complete.

I accept your hearty congratulations.

I'm all settled in my little ranch style house/condo/4-plex/residence.

Well, not completely settled. I'm still moving some furniture around, looking for just the right arrangement. I've purchased a swamp-cooler which I have to set up before it gets hot. I'm figuring out how to cope with how quickly cat liter spreads across those hard-wood floors.

The cats are figuring out the best places to sleep (Lily on the big pillow under the coffee table and Charles on the DVR because it's warm).

To be honest, the honeymoon period has been a little rocky. There are a number of things I didn't check before purchase which I now wish I had:

This is what a kitchen with no drawers looks like

• There are no drawers in the kitchen - not one. Don't know how I missed that. 
• Not all the windows have screens. 
• Not all the windows had locks. They do now. 
• The neighbors can hear the alarm every time I set or unset my new home security system. 
• The slope by the garage door scrapes the bottom of the car, unless you go just the right speed and turn in/out at just the right angle. 
• The neighbors can hear my deluxe surround sound system. 
• The neighbors can probably hear me go to the bathroom. 
• The knob on the back door comes off in your hand if you turn it the wrong way. 
• Front blinds don't go all the way down - rather one side does and the other doesn't. I see custom shutters in my future. 
• Because of the way they are arranged, you can't open the dishwasher and reach the cupboards at the same time - makes it a challenge to put dishes away. 
• The front screen door doesn't close all the way unless you pull it shut - no big deal unless you have cats. 
• The combination washer-dryer doesn't dry, it only washes. 
• Where is the furnace? Why does the heat come on when the thermostat is set to off?

Granted, I can live with most of these problems or fix them. But I admit to wondering whether it was wise to move out of a perfectly functioning domicile with working shutters.

The answer is clear when I go back to the old condo which I am preparing to rent out. I walk into the empty living room and say, "Boy, is this place small." The new (older) place is bigger. The bedroom is actually a bedroom, not a combination bedroom-office-laundry room. So what if there's a big burnt spot on the living room floor which had been covered up by the realtor's staging furniture. That just adds to the character of the place. Yeah, that's it. Character.