Life, Fannishness, and Thespic Infatuation

One of the hardest services to replace when moving, in my experience, is the hair stylist. It took four different stylists in three different salons before I found someone I really liked, who was in my price range. (It's still about twice what I paid in Ohio, but it's the going price for this area.) And the gal I ended up with, I ended up with by default.

I was with her for a while, really liked her, then . . .

She left. Went to work out of town, I think. No forwarding address.

So I went with another default person, who was not the default person I thought it was (whom I really liked, too).

So Wednesday, I tried a different salon. And I'm highly amused by the difference.

The previous salon had more of an "up-scale" "salon" atmosphere to it. The place I went Wednesday was a much homier "beauty shop." Owner-operated (the owner returned the message I left and was working the front area of the shop when I arrived), and rather, as George suggested, "Steel Magnolias."

The gal gave me a fairly awesome cut, and was even able to--by serendipity--bring out my natural red highlights.

And the kicker? I got a free cookbook for being a new client. It's one of those homemade cookbooks, like churches or schools or community groups do for fundraisers. It's a collection of recipes gathered from the (I assume) employees and clientele of the shop.

It's really interesting to see the differences and similarities between this book and the ones I have from back home. Lots of crab recipes, something definitely won't see in a mid-western cookbook.

( Recipe rambling and the Joy of Pineapple )

Geo and I have been attending a very small church here in Culpeper, a church that is part of the Churches of Christ/Christian (instrumental), which is the fellowship we attended at home. The church in Springfield qualifies as a "megachurch"--large congregation, lots of programming for people of all ages. This small church is something of a culture adjustment in comparison.

The church has no official music minister or worship leader, and no one to play the piano. So when they discovered that I can play, they asked me if I'd be willing to take on that particular aspect of the service. I agreed, but explained that I haven't played in well over 10 years, and when I did play, it was more for personal enjoyment or for recitals; I'm not really comfortable as an accompanist. But I've been playing for the past 3 weeks.

( Getting reacquainted with the piano )

Just peeking in on my friends list--reading NOTHING--because you all should be beaten with wet noodles for being able to read so quickly.

I'm a slow reader, speedwise. I always have been. I don't skim. I don't scan. I read. Every freakin' word. And then I go back and re-read. I like to savor. I love to savor the feel of the book in my hand (especially at the point where I am now, where the book is balanced, with equal page weight on either cover), the feel of the pages as I turn them, the texture of the dust jacket. I love the look of the words on the page, and Mary GranPre's illustrations. I marvel at the complexity of the human brain to be able to form meaning out of ink on a page, and to be able to make the ink form pictures in the mind. This is why it can take me so long to read. I get sidetracked by the experience of the reading.

And when I want to completely immerse myself in a book, I need solitude. Can't have the TV on in the background, can't have conversation going on in the room. Because the more I want to focus and lose myself, the more easily distracted I become. And when that happens at a particularly poignant time in the book, the effect is lost. So, anyway . . .

I know someone back in Ohio who is on her 3rd re-through. That's just nuts.

People who know me know I'm "whipping through" the book. I anticipate that, since I'm home alone today, I might finish the book today or tomorrow.

It's a fun read. Heart-clutching moments here, moments of relieved smiles there. ( For those who have already read the thing )

But I'm going to go have breakfast now. Then it's shower, dress, and sit down with the book. Then maybe at some point I'll get to organizing the kitchen today. Because I actually do have stuff I need to get done.

I departed the family manse shortly before 9am today and arrived at the new abode around 6:15pm.

I'm tired, and I'm overwhelmed--there are boxes EVERYWHERE. And it's so strange to be unemployed and not going back to the PAC.

And it's strange not to be returning to Ohio. As I was following the directions down, I kept thinking about what I'd have to do in reverse to come home. Then I'd go, "Oh, yeah. I'm not coming back."

Bunqui (see icon) traveled rather well once she settled in.

I've now said good-bye to the PAC. I went in to clean my desk out and for a nice lunch with the crew. I'm touched by how many who were on vacation came back for my going-away party. I really feel like I'll be missed.

I did not cry.

Tech Director, whom I've known for 13 years, brought pictures of the two shows we did together, Pirates of Penzance and Sweeney Todd (which he directed). What fun! Stories were told about the history of the center--memorable events and infamous events. I mentioned that my best theater story was when I lost my skirt during Harvey. I did not go into detail (perhaps I should have). "Mack" said he must not have been working that night.

Apparently "Mack" knew me before I knew him. He worked backstage on Pirates. He also worked on Sweeney. No wonder he feels like he's known me longer than I remember.

All in all, it was a very nice send-off. Everyone wants me to keep in touch (I don't recall any of my previous jobs saying it like they mean it).

And one person gave me a very fannish going-away gift: a rendering of the covers of the first 6 HP books surrounding a rendering of the artwork for the 7th. I know several people I'll be e-mailing in regards to HP7 after I read it.

I'm sort of at a loss for words right now. I'm ready to get on with things. And it probably won't really hit me until next September when the new season starts . . . and I'm not there . . .

ETA: I'm restless and unemployed. Hmph. And in retrospect (yes, I'm habitually slow on the uptake), I realize that when Mack said he wasn't working the night I lost my skirt, he was asking for a full accounting of the event. I should have obliged, because the story is, in fact, quite hilarious.

One more step is done. Our household is on a truck headed for Virginia. They anticipate delivery on Monday. The new owners have moved into my old house (my mom and dad drove past yesterday, I guess).

Geo came home--excuse me, came back--last weekend to help with the packing. He dismantled his A/V equipment and computer stuff. He was here when my tooth went all painful (per my previous entry). He left Wednesday morning with 3 of our 4 cats.

One thing I've learned: When working with professional movers, if it's not nailed down, it gets packed. Heh. (One of the packers told me that sometimes, even if it's nailed down, it gets packed. Hee.) You'll set something down for only a moment, and when you turn around, it's gone. They even packed the glass tray from our microwave--our microwave that we're leaving behind. We were going to re-heat some food last night, and Geo asks, "Hey! Where's the glass tray to the microwave?" And I said, "I'll bet it got packed."

I've also decided that we have way too much stuff. Boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of just stuff.

Going through the house one last time, the rooms were all echoey, and the only thing left were some odds and ends with boxes, and the window dressings. I did a final walk-through, then closed the door for the last time. I had a nice short chat with the woman two houses down, then came home (to Mother and Daddy's).

I did remember when I woke up yesterday morning that there were some things left in old boxes in the garage. But they were things that no one in the family wanted, things that had been in a garage sale last year anyway. They're somewhat heirloomy, so I hope they don't just get pitched in the garbage, but they're not my concern anymore. Weird.

I'm now staying with my mom and dad, in my old bedroom, which still has my name on it. (Literally--the door has a star with my name on it that was stuck there when I was little.) I've got my calico here with me, and she's a little freaked.

This is going to be a week of limbo, a week of "lasts." Tonight is my penultimate event at the PAC.

Just a heads-up to let y'all know that I'm probably going to disappear for an undetermined amount of time. Geo is back this weekend to start dismanteling and packing things up (including the accouterments for the computer, i.e., wireless access). Monday and Tuesday the movers come to pack up the house, Wednesday they load the truck, and Geo heads back to Va. Then I'm staying with my folks until the end of the month, and then I leave.

I might be on and off the computer at mis padres, but probably not much. However, I'll be checking e-mails, so if anyone really needs to e-mail me, reply to this post, and I'll send you my new e-mail address. Make sense?

Well, there ya go. The house in Ohio is sold. I just got back from the closing. The young woman who bought the house seems very nice, and her grade school-aged (middle school) son canNOT wait to move in. When we were parting ways, he even thanked me for the house. Her seeming so nice made me feel better about all the stuff we had to give up/agree to pay for at the closing. She said she'd been to the house several times (at least one open house and once when I was there, when she came with her realtor), and even though she kept looking, she kept coming back to our house.

God's timing is impeccable, don't you think? Not only do we not have a month with two mortgage payments, we actually have a month with no mortgage payments (this house is no longer ours, and our first Va payment isn't due until July).

Now if I'd just learn to trust in that divine timing my own self.

Turns out Buyer even graduated from my high school, though not at the same time. She was a freshman when my bro was a senior. I thought that was a nifty little tidbit.

I've invited Buyer over for lunch or dinner if she'd like, so I can show her some of the idiosyncrasies of things we've done . . . things that if you didn't know about it, you wouldn't *know* about it. Like the extra valve we added to the water line when we put the filter on the drinking water pipe. And my dad and I replaced the rest of the window ropes yesterday. Stuff like that. Our own seller left us in writing a list of hints she'd learned over the years that make living in the house easier. So I'm glad to return the favor.

It's weird. I feel like I should be celebrating or something. We've got a bottle of champaign, but with Geo in Va, it isn't the same.

Now I've got to call all the utility companies.

So there it is. We're no longer land barons. Just one house, and I ain't living in it right now.

First of all, many thanks for the well-wishes on the new house and the sale of the old and the possible job leads. I haven't responded individually as I should, but each and every comment is appreciated.

Second of all, the house had "many" visitors today. The appraiser came this morning, and the survey people from the title company came this afternoon. I got a call from my realtor saying that he thinks the buyers will want to close this Friday. Say what????? Um, that's not happening. George won't be available until Saturday, and I don't have a power of attorney to sign for him. So. We'll have to have something signed on Saturday. Then my realtor says that the closing would be Monday or Tuesday. Again, um, no. Monday is a federal holiday, hence things will be closed. Tuesday, then. Sheesh. I know I've been concerned that the house wouldn't sell, but I still don't like feeling like I'm being pushed out.

I know I have 30 days to vacate once we close. It's in the contract, and in this area, it's apparently a common courtesy to include it in the contract. Still, if it's not my house anymore, it will be weird living here. I need to schedule the movers, both to come pack up the house and to drop off at the new house in Virginia. And I want to be present on both ends, to supervise both the loading and the unloading. I'm a control freak that way.

I'm just in this really weird sense of limbo right now. I'm already starting to miss the people at work. I really don't like good-byes all that much . . .

Plus, I received a notice that my auto insurance is overdue. Again, say what???? I mailed the payment last month. And they still haven't gotten it. So I made the on-line payment, but still. Grrrr . . .

In other news, maybe I'll post my mad ramblings regarding the season finale of Numb3rs. Seriously, it's really weird screaming at the TV set when there's no one to share your anxiety with.

Geo and I are now land barons. We own two houses, one in Ohio and one in Virginia. (Weird that when I was in high school, this is what I said I wanted . . . I was a silly girl.)

Geo says the closing went flawlessly, and that our rate is excellent (we locked in when we applied, so that was great), and our house payment is better than we expected. The title company said we did the financing the absolute best way possible. (I guess I spent those years in mortgage lending for a reason.) And we don't owe a payment in June. The seller wasn't there, apparently. But she apparently is very happy we're getting her house, and she's left us a note on how to take care of what and things she's discovered made taking care of the house easier.

We'll need to shop for a new washer and dryer, but that can be kind of fun.

I'm going with the folks to take Geo some furniture next week. It will be nice to see the new yard in full bloom.

ETA: I have pre-ordered HP7, with a shipping address of Culpeper, Va. That's just . . . weird.