Highs and lows liekwoah
So today was... yeah. Today was a day. Which it would have to be, to get me to actually blog something, huh? *hangs head*
Had to do some prep-type work for the family reunion-y thing. 'Family reunion' might not be the best word, but it's the one people understand. We do it every year, my mom's siblings and all their kids (and now, in some cases, grandkids) all shove themselves into one house and it's wonderful, despite the crowding. It's in Oregon, so it's really beautiful, and August there tends to be MUCH milder than it is in central California! (If it's August in Central California, and it's a hundred degrees out, a lot of people don't even see that as being 'that hot'. Things melt. People melt. I melt.)
So I'm doing laundry for my mom and sister (and a couple things for me, though I mostly did mine Wed.) before we pack, and the rest of the fam is running out to Super Target to buy enough food to last my brother a week (he's skipping the reunion to take care of the cats, because it's too much crowd for him), and to walk around, get out of the house.
While they're out, my poster arrives. YAY! I had ordered the Sniper vs. Spy poster from the Valve store, and I was hoping it would arrive before I departed, though since my brother would be watching the house, I wasn't too fussed about my package coming while I was gone.
Then I notice the tube is dinged, but that's okay, I tell myself, I can deal with a wrinkled poster. I have a poster frame, just by coincidence, that my mum bought me before she knew I was buying this. It'll flatten out, it'll be okay.
Only NOT. It's wrinkled pretty badly, and there's a small tear, not just on the edge where the frame could hide it, but in the middle-ish area (though not on the picture). I spent about twice as much money on shipping and handling than I did on the poster, THIS SHOULD NOT HAPPEN. So I'm on the verge of tears, texting my mom an abbreviated version of the story. I mean, it's not the Valve store's fault, I can't write them an angry letter or anything. They did their job by putting it in what was supposed to be a protective tube. I've never had a mailing tube get crunched like that before! It happened en route at some point, but I don't know where, there's no place to stick the blame.
So my mom brought me home a fancy coffee and scones, and my brother said 'I can get the worst of the wrinkles out of that', and when I went back, the tear was barely visible, it was just that I was looking for one after I saw how dented the tube was.
Then we had pizza. With BACON on it. Not Canadian bacon, BACON! My favourite pizza in the world is any pizza that has real bacon on it. I'm considering naming my regular pizza order 'The Michael J. Nelson'.
And we watched Totoro! Okay, the first time I ever saw 'My Neighbor Totoro', my family had just moved out to the mountains. I had lived in the city my whole life, and now we were out in the middle of the forest, and it was a huge change for me, and I was basically incapable of making new friends. Then I saw this cartoon that was unlike any cartoon I had ever seen before, and it was just... it just completely spoke to me, both in style and in content.
I desperately wanted to see a real Totoro. I wanted to ride in a catbus more than anything. I would go tromping through the woods around our house, and whimsical adventure never really found me, and then I developed the kind of allergies that keep a person inside for eight months out of the year at least, but... I'm twenty-five now, and I still wish a real catbus would come and take me away sometimes.
So, that was my day of emotional turmoil, the agony and the ecstasy (of bacon!). The poster thing was super crushing at the time, but I'm feeling better about it now that I've calmed down, and the picture part itself isn't torn, and the art is fabulous (even my mother thinks so!). Whew. So yeah.
Had to do some prep-type work for the family reunion-y thing. 'Family reunion' might not be the best word, but it's the one people understand. We do it every year, my mom's siblings and all their kids (and now, in some cases, grandkids) all shove themselves into one house and it's wonderful, despite the crowding. It's in Oregon, so it's really beautiful, and August there tends to be MUCH milder than it is in central California! (If it's August in Central California, and it's a hundred degrees out, a lot of people don't even see that as being 'that hot'. Things melt. People melt. I melt.)
So I'm doing laundry for my mom and sister (and a couple things for me, though I mostly did mine Wed.) before we pack, and the rest of the fam is running out to Super Target to buy enough food to last my brother a week (he's skipping the reunion to take care of the cats, because it's too much crowd for him), and to walk around, get out of the house.
While they're out, my poster arrives. YAY! I had ordered the Sniper vs. Spy poster from the Valve store, and I was hoping it would arrive before I departed, though since my brother would be watching the house, I wasn't too fussed about my package coming while I was gone.
Then I notice the tube is dinged, but that's okay, I tell myself, I can deal with a wrinkled poster. I have a poster frame, just by coincidence, that my mum bought me before she knew I was buying this. It'll flatten out, it'll be okay.
Only NOT. It's wrinkled pretty badly, and there's a small tear, not just on the edge where the frame could hide it, but in the middle-ish area (though not on the picture). I spent about twice as much money on shipping and handling than I did on the poster, THIS SHOULD NOT HAPPEN. So I'm on the verge of tears, texting my mom an abbreviated version of the story. I mean, it's not the Valve store's fault, I can't write them an angry letter or anything. They did their job by putting it in what was supposed to be a protective tube. I've never had a mailing tube get crunched like that before! It happened en route at some point, but I don't know where, there's no place to stick the blame.
So my mom brought me home a fancy coffee and scones, and my brother said 'I can get the worst of the wrinkles out of that', and when I went back, the tear was barely visible, it was just that I was looking for one after I saw how dented the tube was.
Then we had pizza. With BACON on it. Not Canadian bacon, BACON! My favourite pizza in the world is any pizza that has real bacon on it. I'm considering naming my regular pizza order 'The Michael J. Nelson'.
And we watched Totoro! Okay, the first time I ever saw 'My Neighbor Totoro', my family had just moved out to the mountains. I had lived in the city my whole life, and now we were out in the middle of the forest, and it was a huge change for me, and I was basically incapable of making new friends. Then I saw this cartoon that was unlike any cartoon I had ever seen before, and it was just... it just completely spoke to me, both in style and in content.
I desperately wanted to see a real Totoro. I wanted to ride in a catbus more than anything. I would go tromping through the woods around our house, and whimsical adventure never really found me, and then I developed the kind of allergies that keep a person inside for eight months out of the year at least, but... I'm twenty-five now, and I still wish a real catbus would come and take me away sometimes.
So, that was my day of emotional turmoil, the agony and the ecstasy (of bacon!). The poster thing was super crushing at the time, but I'm feeling better about it now that I've calmed down, and the picture part itself isn't torn, and the art is fabulous (even my mother thinks so!). Whew. So yeah.