Priority

I had to admit to a writing group yesterday that the dissertation has taken a backseat to other things in my life. The house, the living with in-laws, the other short-term writing project deadlines, and the job applications have occupied my mind of late. I'm not happy about this. But I do think things will be looking up after this week. And I'm already half way through Monday.

DIY

The new house has come with a few fix-up projects, most of which Dave has handled because, well, he's handy. I offered to tackle the purchase and install of a new dishwasher, though, because it required only a visit to Sears and being around for the install. No problem.

Last week the new dishwasher gave us this message (on the display screen?!): NOT ENOUGH WATER TO FINISH THE CYCLE. SEE USER GUIDE.

Being in charge of the dishwasher and all, I saw that user guide. And found nothing related to this message. Hmm. Being in charge of the dishwasher and all (still!), I called Sears, described our problem (twice, actually, because I got disconnected), and scheduled service for the next day. No problem.

Keith, our friendly service man (who wasn't the artsy-type we wanted to befriend), stared at that dishwasher for 30 minutes waiting for it to display the same error message. Then he looked through the user guide for five minutes trying to find something (anything!) about this message. Needless to say, Keith left without finding a problem or making a friend.

Last night, when the dishwasher stopped mid-cycle and the display screen gave us the NOT ENOUGH WATER message, I told Dave I would handle it. I jumped online, searched for "Bosch dishwasher not enough water" and found that several other people had had the same problem. After reading about the problem and its possible solutions for twenty minutes, I shared my fine detective work.

"Dave," I said,"I think we may have purchased the wrong dishwasher. I've been doing some research and I found this." I showed him the screen.

"Nice work," he replied. "But why don't you just call and set up service?"

"Because I'm going to be informed when I call this time," I told him.

"Then you should look up Kenmore dishwashers because that's what we have," he offered.

How dare he commandeer MY house project like that? The NERVE.

So. We have a serviceperson coming Tuesday. You know. FOUR days from now. And in the meantime, for that little bit of attitude, Dave will be handling the dishes.

Tuck Point Blank

We had this guy, Micah, do some tuckpointing on our front steps yesterday. He was really cool in an artsy way and said "thank you" in a genuine way when I complimented his work. Taking pride. I like that.

Later, I decided that Dave and I should be friends with Micah, his wife, and their three kids. Dave laughed at this, but I think he secretly liked Micah too because he emailed him to say that the steps looked great and to thank him again. This was code, I think, for "please be our friend."

This morning, while he checked his email, Dave said, "Hey, Micah wants to have us over for dinner."

"Really? Awesome!" I replied. "When?"

Dave laughed again. Micah didn't invite us to dinner. I guess he was just in it for the money.

Write On

There is some excellent blogging going on here and here. And we're not even in the middle of a blogging challenge! I'm going to prove to myself that I can keep up with a blog and maintain some level of quality as well. I'm also going to prove to myself that I can write this dissertation. It's going slowly so far, but IT IS GOING. Let's be clear on that.

Hello and Goodbye

This is Marie Martell. She was born January 18, 1919 and died September 8, 2011. She lived most of her life in Wishek, ND where she raised five children. She gave birth to one of those children, Idella, in a boxcar. Marie's mom, Katharina, a midwife, delivered Idella. Idella is my mom.

This weekend we all gathered to celebrate the life of Marie Martell. She was a feisty lady with a great sense of humor. She loved her five children, her twelve grandchildren, and fifteen great-grandchildren. And they loved her.

Rest in peace, Grandma. I will miss you.

Z: Zone of Proximal Development

I've heard people say before that babies are sponges, and it turns out it's true. Sam has been watching and listening all this time, and now he just throws things out at us as if he's known how to do them all along. Crawling? No problem. Eating finger foods? Done. Saying goodnight to Nana? Sure. "Nigh, nigh." Signing "gorilla" when we read Good Night, Gorilla? Of course. 

The only thing Sam can't figure out is why his parents look so surprised all the time. 

Y: Yawn

Prepare yourselves for a thrilling blog post, folks. 

Y a w n. That's how I feel. Like one big yawn.

But we successfully moved across town and now live in a new house! Tomorrow we begin the great unpack.

For now, let's all get some rest. 

X: Sign at the X

Given the current housing situation, is it still funny for a closing executive to say over and over, "You're signing your life away!"?