Happy birthday to me; Harry Potter Book 7; Saga of the Passport
Thanks to all my friends who wished me a happy birthday : )
The day itself wasn't terribly special, particularly since it was one of my "fake days off" after working overnight where every minute is just a struggle to keep my eyes open. However Tery spent it striving to fulfill my one request, a pistachio cake like my mom used to make every year and I haven't had since I moved away from home. She had to recreate it based on the flimsiest of physical descriptions, and with the crushing pressure of not spoiling my happy childhood memory. She didn't do too badly:
The unnatural green color is one of my fondest memories
The punchline to this is that while Tery and I were talking to our respective mothers by phone and relating her success, her mother got misty-eyed at the thought of us preserving my family traditions, while my own mother had no memory at all of ever making me pistachio cake. I guess we now know where I get my pathetic memory from.
As for birthday swag, well, not much to list. Tery got me the new Muse (which rocks, btw. There are is a song near the end with a bombastic, Queen-esque, rock opera sound that bring tears to my eyes, some definite anti-Bush leanings, and Supermassive Black Hole and I are engaged to be married). I got South Park Season Nine which I had to buy for myself. Tery gives me shit because I shop for myself a week before my birthday. This is why: because I can't count on, or expect, anyone else but Tery to know what to get me. Then of course there's JeffyJeff's package, which won't arrive until mid September. That's just the way he rolls.
~*~
Another present I got for myself would be the last Harry Potter book. I decided to follow ms_hecubus's lead and went to Borders hoping to score a free bumper sticker lying around unattended. Instead I almost immediately encountered an employee who asked if I needed help. Rather than wasting time, I asked about the promotion and he offered to reserve a copy for me on the spot. He was accommodating, enthusiastic, and perhaps more than a little gay. He seemed like he would be a really fun coworker and perhaps could have saved me from a life of working jobs requiring minimal human contact. I also know if everyone were half as stoked about customer service as he was, I'd be a damn sight happier as well. When he went to retrieve my sticker (hidden away behind the desk) he asked, "So, where do you stand on the issue?" Unhesitatingly I answered, "I trust Snape!" I heard him murmur approvingly, "I do too."
Once I was in my car it occurred to me that maybe he agreed with everyone regardless of what they said, but at the time I didn't question him because I simply can't imagine how anyone could NOT trust Snape.
~*~
I'm one step closer to my trip to England. I had also planned on my day off to get my passport renewed (having found it at the bottom of my closet with enormous relief. It had been missing since my car break-in, thus I couldn't be 100% certain that it was lost and not stolen (though obviously only an idiot keeps their passport in their glove compartment). Like I do with most seemingly insurmountable problems, I put it out of my head for a couple of months. Then of course I faced the possibility that it might have been stolen and now had to explain to Uncle Sam that I did nothing about it for a couple of months. That's right, fuck you, Homeland Security! Hence you can imagine my relief when I found it in my closet).
So I had the address of a passport agency that sounded perfect, one-stop shopping for a new photo and application. The problem was it was somewhere on Havana and Colfax, a frightening, busy intersection and, as I discovered, every single shop sign was in Spanish. Rather than try to travel to all four corners surrounded by angry traffic, I hightailed it south back home. However, I know myself very well and that once I got back inside my house I wouldn't want to leave again, and I wanted to get this taken care of. So I phoned Tery for another address (what did we do before cell phones??)
She directed me to a place in an office building very close to our house. I found it with no problem. On entering the office, I was intimidated to be greeted by three security guards as well as a metal detector. Sheesh, did the flight leave from here too? They told me I had to get a new photo, fill out a form and return with a travel itinerary. I said my plans weren't set in stone yet, but they seemed quite insistent that I had to have an itinerary to apply for the passport.
Well, now this is stupid. I'm not about to book a flight and risk not getting a passport in time, but I can't apply for a passport without booking a flight? Only in Bush's America. I decided to apply by mail so I didn't have to face down an unreasonable security guard about this detail.
Then I set out in search of a place to get a photo. The guard had mentioned Walgreen's and some other places that did them, but I heard only Walgreen's. No problem. I could picture a dozen Walgreens in the vicinity, I thought. There was definitely one I knew for certain but it seemed farther away than the ones I was picturing. It turned out none of the places I went where I could clearly picture one actually had one. And why does every single store have a red sign? Rather than just go to the farther one, I obstinately insisted on trying the locations I felt were closer, consequently driving for a half hour in search of a closer one. Pah.
So anyway, I got to one, got my picture taken, and have sent off my application for processing. Since I'm not flying until at least July, I think I have nothing to worry about. Then again, this IS my life we're talking about here. Stay tuned.
The day itself wasn't terribly special, particularly since it was one of my "fake days off" after working overnight where every minute is just a struggle to keep my eyes open. However Tery spent it striving to fulfill my one request, a pistachio cake like my mom used to make every year and I haven't had since I moved away from home. She had to recreate it based on the flimsiest of physical descriptions, and with the crushing pressure of not spoiling my happy childhood memory. She didn't do too badly:
The unnatural green color is one of my fondest memories
The punchline to this is that while Tery and I were talking to our respective mothers by phone and relating her success, her mother got misty-eyed at the thought of us preserving my family traditions, while my own mother had no memory at all of ever making me pistachio cake. I guess we now know where I get my pathetic memory from.
As for birthday swag, well, not much to list. Tery got me the new Muse (which rocks, btw. There are is a song near the end with a bombastic, Queen-esque, rock opera sound that bring tears to my eyes, some definite anti-Bush leanings, and Supermassive Black Hole and I are engaged to be married). I got South Park Season Nine which I had to buy for myself. Tery gives me shit because I shop for myself a week before my birthday. This is why: because I can't count on, or expect, anyone else but Tery to know what to get me. Then of course there's JeffyJeff's package, which won't arrive until mid September. That's just the way he rolls.
~*~
Another present I got for myself would be the last Harry Potter book. I decided to follow ms_hecubus's lead and went to Borders hoping to score a free bumper sticker lying around unattended. Instead I almost immediately encountered an employee who asked if I needed help. Rather than wasting time, I asked about the promotion and he offered to reserve a copy for me on the spot. He was accommodating, enthusiastic, and perhaps more than a little gay. He seemed like he would be a really fun coworker and perhaps could have saved me from a life of working jobs requiring minimal human contact. I also know if everyone were half as stoked about customer service as he was, I'd be a damn sight happier as well. When he went to retrieve my sticker (hidden away behind the desk) he asked, "So, where do you stand on the issue?" Unhesitatingly I answered, "I trust Snape!" I heard him murmur approvingly, "I do too."
Once I was in my car it occurred to me that maybe he agreed with everyone regardless of what they said, but at the time I didn't question him because I simply can't imagine how anyone could NOT trust Snape.
~*~
I'm one step closer to my trip to England. I had also planned on my day off to get my passport renewed (having found it at the bottom of my closet with enormous relief. It had been missing since my car break-in, thus I couldn't be 100% certain that it was lost and not stolen (though obviously only an idiot keeps their passport in their glove compartment). Like I do with most seemingly insurmountable problems, I put it out of my head for a couple of months. Then of course I faced the possibility that it might have been stolen and now had to explain to Uncle Sam that I did nothing about it for a couple of months. That's right, fuck you, Homeland Security! Hence you can imagine my relief when I found it in my closet).
So I had the address of a passport agency that sounded perfect, one-stop shopping for a new photo and application. The problem was it was somewhere on Havana and Colfax, a frightening, busy intersection and, as I discovered, every single shop sign was in Spanish. Rather than try to travel to all four corners surrounded by angry traffic, I hightailed it south back home. However, I know myself very well and that once I got back inside my house I wouldn't want to leave again, and I wanted to get this taken care of. So I phoned Tery for another address (what did we do before cell phones??)
She directed me to a place in an office building very close to our house. I found it with no problem. On entering the office, I was intimidated to be greeted by three security guards as well as a metal detector. Sheesh, did the flight leave from here too? They told me I had to get a new photo, fill out a form and return with a travel itinerary. I said my plans weren't set in stone yet, but they seemed quite insistent that I had to have an itinerary to apply for the passport.
Well, now this is stupid. I'm not about to book a flight and risk not getting a passport in time, but I can't apply for a passport without booking a flight? Only in Bush's America. I decided to apply by mail so I didn't have to face down an unreasonable security guard about this detail.
Then I set out in search of a place to get a photo. The guard had mentioned Walgreen's and some other places that did them, but I heard only Walgreen's. No problem. I could picture a dozen Walgreens in the vicinity, I thought. There was definitely one I knew for certain but it seemed farther away than the ones I was picturing. It turned out none of the places I went where I could clearly picture one actually had one. And why does every single store have a red sign? Rather than just go to the farther one, I obstinately insisted on trying the locations I felt were closer, consequently driving for a half hour in search of a closer one. Pah.
So anyway, I got to one, got my picture taken, and have sent off my application for processing. Since I'm not flying until at least July, I think I have nothing to worry about. Then again, this IS my life we're talking about here. Stay tuned.