Monday, August 31, 2009
Totally random, but Mr. Darling and I bought a washer and dryer yesterday (Whirlpool, 3 years old, $250 total on Craigslist. Hurray!), and I've spent most of today being a handywoman. I just sent this email to Mr. Darling and thought I'd post it here, because I really feel like I deserve a prize of some sort for being unusually handy. This email is word-for-word (except for the names, of course) the email I just sent to Mr. D, who is at work right now, where he gets no cell phone signal, but occasionally finds a minute to check his email in between getting bugs out of patients' ears (true story). This email proves to you that the way I blog is really the way I talk to people I know in real life. In other words, sexy reader, you and I are practically BFFs.
Monday, August 31, 2009 4:59 PM
From: Tova Darling
To: Mr. Darling
Subject: Maybe I should work for Maytag
So... they don't sell 3 to 4 prong adapters for dryers (at least not at Lowes). Instead, according to the appliance guy at Lowes, you have to actually detach the three prong plug and attach a four prong plug. Which I did. By myself. Because I am awesome! (I am seriously unreasonably proud of myself for doing this. I think I should get some sort of medal or trophy. Maybe a plaque?)
Anyway, having done that, I was well on my way to being able to dry things, when I noticed that the back of the dryer says that you should absolutely NOT use that flexible foil hose for your exhaust. I looked it up online, and apparently every dryer in the history of the world says that, because it poses a fire risk. You should only ever use rigid metal piping. So, do I go back and get rigid metal piping? I think it's more expensive, but on the plus side, it won't burn you to death.
I have to go back to Lowes anyway to get an adapter for the water hookups, because one of our water connectors (the cold water one) is randomly smaller than the other, and the hose doesn't fit, so I have to get an adapter. So if we want rigid metal piping, I could get both things at once. I had to switch the washer and the dryer because they were on the wrong sides, and the washer hoses aren't long enough to reach the water unless the washer is on the left. The hot water is now hooked up, but not the cold.
Final question: The green grounding wire connected to the back of the washing machine - Where does that connect? I hooked up the grounding wire for the dryer when I changed the plug, but I'm curious as to where the green wire on the back of the washing machine goes to. Any tips?
In case you couldn't tell, I'm so pleased with myself for doing all of this! Hurray, me!! I feel like an electrician. An electrician who sprayed water all over herself when she tried to figure out which pipe was hot and which was cold, and then immediately sat in cat litter... but still!
I'm going to have you look over all of my hard work before I plug anything in so that I don't electrocute myself.
I love you!!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Because it finally happened. I forgot Totally Awkward Tuesday. Argh! So, um... feel free to be awkward amongst yourselves, but I've got nothin'. (Sad face.)
I'll post for real tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be doing penance by eating leftover mashed cauliflower. (Haha, just kidding... that's not penance... my mashed cauliflower is delicious. Maybe I'll share my recipe with you.)
If you want to share an awkward story anyway, even though I'm a complete slacker, you may do so below.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Two Tuesdays ago, I flew back from a fabulous visit with my sister. I love flying, but on this particular flight, I had the middle seat between two other people, which is my least favorite seat on a plane. (I'm pretty sure that's everyone's least favorite seat.) About half an hour into the flight, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom, but I hate making people get up so that I can get out of my seat. Plus, the woman in the aisle seat fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake her up. So I decided to hold it. That was my first mistake.
When we finally landed an hour and a half later, I thought my bladder might burst, and then, of course, there was a delay because another plane was still at our gate. After what seemed like forever, I finally got off the plane, at which point my need to go to the bathroom was nearing emergency status. I knew that Mr. Darling was waiting for me, but it was an absolute necessity that I use the bathroom before meeting him. As soon as I got out of the plane, I started speed-walking in the direction that seemed likeliest to lead to a bathroom. Finally, I saw the "Restroom" sign, and I sprinted towards it, turned into a little hallway, and ran into the bathroom, carrying my gigantic purse and wheeling my carry-on bag. I ran to the first open stall, pulled all of my stuff into it, and then turned to close the stall door.
The bathroom (like just most other public restrooms) was set up so that the stalls were facing the sinks which were in front of a gigantic mirror. As I turned to close the stall door, I noticed that the woman at the sink directly in front of me had very short hair. Then I noticed the face reflecting in the mirror - the "woman" with short hair was actually a man. I felt a brief embarassment for the poor man who had wandered into the women's restroom by mistake... until I noticed that there were also men at every other sink in the bathroom.
Yes, somehow, I had not only run into a very crowded men's restroom, but I had also failed to notice that I was rushing past several men in my hurry to get to the stall. I stood there in shock for a minute, then grabbed my bag and ran back toward the exit. As I came out of the bathroom, I nearly collided with two women who had been sitting near me on the plane. They looked at me, looked at the large sign by the door that said "Men," and then one of them asked the obvious question - "Were you just in the men's restroom?"
To make matters worse, I then had to walk with them the rest of the way down the hall until we all reached the proper restroom.
In the future, I'll gladly wake up any sleeping airline passengers so that I can go to the plane's unisex bathroom.
So what's your awkward moment? Share it on your own blog, link back to mine from yours, then link up below!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
These people may have really good reasons for picketing. They could be the best reasons ever. They could be eloquently worded arguments that would convince me to never, ever shop at Wal-Mart again. The problem is that their signs look like this:
Seriously, I have excellent vision, and even when my car is stopped at a light, one lane away from the picketers, I cannot for the life of me make out even a single word of the tiny font that explains their reasons for demanding that I not shop at Wal-Mart. My best guess is that it's something about unions or healthcare, but for all I know, it could also say "We protest the mistreatment of the smiley face logo" or "Their bakery-fresh buns are not quite as round as we'd like them to be."
How on earth do they expect me to support them if it's impossible to tell what I'm agreeing with? And they're marching at the far end of the parking lot, about 4,350 parking spaces away from the actual entrance of the store, so unless I park a mile away from Wal-Mart, get out of my car, directly approach these people, and ask them what it is that they're protesting, I will never know what these signs say, and let's be honest - I'm never going to do that. If you want my support, it's probably best not to make me work that hard to support you.
Every time I drive past, I think, "Somebody should really stop and tell those people that their signs would be more effective if people could tell what they said," but I'm definitely too lazy to do that. In the meantime, I'll continue to shop at Wal-Mart unless someone comes up with a good reason I shouldn't and then prints it in two-foot-high letters and holds it up in front of me.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Today's Totally Awkward moment is yet another "Tova had a childhood crush and ended up horribly embarrassed" story. I'm starting to sound like I was an extremely boy-crazy teen, which I never thought I was, but the more I read about myself, the more boy-crazy I sound.
When I was growing up, my parents were good friends with another married couple who had four sons. For a few years, this family lived near the beach, so for a few summers in a row, we spent a week of vacation staying with them. Seeing as there were four boys in the family and I was in my teens, it was only natural that I would develop a crush on one of them. He was the second son. Two years older than me; tall, dark and handsome; and exactly the kind of guy that a shy teen girl would spend her vacation obsessing over. Unfortunately, he was (and still is) even more painfully shy than I have ever been (his dad actually privately thanked me once for talking to him, because he was concerned that his son would never get used to talking to girls otherwise), so I just spent a week each summer staring at him awkwardly while he avoided my gaze.
During one of the summers that we stayed with them (the summer I was 14), I spent most of the week staring at him and then finally, amazingly, blissfully, got up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to take a walk with me. How I worked up the courage, I'll never know.
Now, at the time, I had had a boyfriend for about a week (I "dated" this particular guy for a total of three weeks [and by "dated," I mean sat next to him at lunch in school]), so clearly it wasn't the love of a lifetime, and not enough to keep me from wanting to take a walk with a handsome "older man." I'm not saying I was fickle, I'm just saying that I was 14.
Anyway, I somehow managed to ask him to take a walk with me while also simultaneously avoiding inviting my younger brother to take a walk with us. It was one of my finer moments.
Allow me to set the scene: It's a warm summer evening. There are millions of stars in the sky. We are walking along a beautiful, moonlit bay. I am more charming than I have ever been. The street is empty except for us. And my brother is sneaking along behind us in the bushes.
See, apparently, my brother was mad that he wasn't invited on the walk. He was 12, and therefore hadn't picked up on the fact that I had intended this to be a romantic walk rather than a walk with my baby brother. So, he thought that I had just left him out to be mean, rather than the real reason I left him out, which was that this was my one chance to make the object of my affection fall madly in love with me.
So we're walking along, blissfully unaware that we're being stalked by my brother, and we're making awkward, stilted conversation, but it's still conversation, so I'm happy. We approach a small dock, and one of us suggests that we walk out onto it. By this point, my brother had figured out why I hadn't invited him on the walk, but was still irritated, apparently. My crush and I step out onto the dock, stand side-to-side with excitingly (to me, at least) little space between us (ok, it was probably at least two feet, but still...), gaze up at the stars, and....
...my little brother bursts out from behind the bushes and shouts, "You have a boyfriend!!" and then runs away.
The chances that my crush would've made a move even without that interruption were slim to none anyway, but after that, there was no chance of us doing anything but maintaining an uncomfortable silence on the walk back home.
Ok, so what's your awkward moment? Share it below!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Here are a few highlights from the trip:
- We locked my friend's keys in the trunk of her car for an hour... before she remembered that there was a trunk-release latch in her car... and the doors were all open.
- When we showed up at the campsite, she was wearing a skirt and I was wearing flip flops with kitten heels. We probably looked like Paris and Nicole in The Simple Life. Who wears kitten heels camping? Me, that's who.
- We removed the tent from the bag and realized that we had no idea how to set up a tent. We stood there looking forlorn until several men and a small child came and set up our tent. The child was about 8 years old, and was a much better camper than the two of us put together.
- During our trip, other campers also: 1.) Dug a fire pit for us. 2.)Lent us cooking utensils. 3.) Lit our grill. 4.) Gave us food. We didn't ask for any of these things; we just looked like such total misfits that everyone felt sorry for us.
- We were almost attacked by seagulls, because I got the bright idea of throwing them a handful of pretzels.
- Camping seemed like a great time to work on our tans, so we coated ourselves with baby oil and got so horribly sunburnt that we could only wear bikinis or loose-fitting clothing for a week after our trip.
- Our air mattress deflated every night so that we woke up laying on the ground.
The trip was supposed to last for five days, but we only could handle three. We also videotaped the whole thing. The video was edited by a friend of ours who set it to music and produced the funniest twenty minute camping film you've ever seen.
Anyway, I'm camping with Mr. Darling, and I'm pretty excited. He's definitely more capable of surviving outdoors than I am, so it'll probably go more smoothly than my last camping experience. Just keep your fingers crossed that I don't get eaten by a bear.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
In order for you to fully grasp why this moment was so awkward for me, I first need to give you a brief explanation of the families that Mr. Darling and I grew up in. Our families are both very religious. We were both raised with very strong morals and values, which is good, and we were raised to believe that it's possible to have a close relationship with God - also a good thing. But in our families, we did not talk about sex. Ever. It's just not something we discussed (except for the brief, "don't have sex" talk I got when I was younger, which basically just consisted of that one sentence.)
Obviously, I'm capable of discussing sex in a healthy way now, but when Mr. Darling and I first started dating, I wasn't comfortable talking about sex. That's what made this moment awkward.
We'd been dating for a very short time (about a week), and we had just gotten to the frequent-hand-holding stage in our relationship.
Now, not to make me sound crazy or anything, but I like to hold hands in a specific way. When you hold hands, one person's wrist is in the front (as if they're leading) and one is in the back. I prefer to have my wrist in the back. I'm not sure why, it's just more comfortable for me. (Maybe it has something to do with height?) Anyway, Mr. Darling and I weren't yet to the point that he knew I preferred to hold hands that way, so he grabbed my hand with his in the back. That just wouldn't do, so I let go of his hand, then grabbed it again in the "right" way. He looked at me funny and asked why I'd done it, to which I replied...
"I like it from behind."
As soon as I realized what I'd said, (the realization was aided by Mr. Darling's laughter), my face promptly invented a new shade of red. How very embarrassing! Mr. Darling later told several of his friends this story, which added to the awkwardness, but he also fell madly in love with me, so it all worked out for the best.
Ok, so what's your awkward story? Share it on your blog, link back to mine, then include a link to your blog in the space below. And don't worry, I'll be back to my regular blogging in no time at all.