You Don't Ask, You Don't Get.

In today's episode of "You don't ask, you don't get" -

I hate yardwork, but I'd been doing a fair amount of it today since the weather is cool enough, and my neighbor was kind enough to mow my lawn this morning. About two hours in, I'm straightening up the garage and getting ready to pack it in for the day, I notice a young man I've seen around the neighborhood power walking past my house. I wave and say hello. He acknowledges me, and stops cold. "Ma'am, could I trouble you for a ride to 16th and Ida?"

The Math Comes Out To Be Ephemily +1

"How did you manage to get ahold of a loan officer at 9:30 at night on a Thursday?"

The question came in over text, so I couldn't tell the degree of incredulousness in Loverboy's tone.

"I dunno.  I know people, and for some reason, they seem to like me."

That was late August of 2018.  And that's all it took to refinance my house.  Well, ok.  Obviously there was more than that.  But the hassle of shopping around for the right company, the reasonable rates, the type of loan that fits my needs, reflected my well earned 823 FICO score, and the right team to work with was quite simple, actually. 

You Stand, I Stand

"Welp, I think we found our woo girl."

I didn't so much whisper as I did direct a targeted cone of sound at Loverboy's ear as the target of my ire was sitting just to his left.  The concert was in full swing by then.  We'd just taken our seats, and the group of women next to us were immersed in the experience up to their eyeballs.

From The Heart - Robe Sleeves, Privlidge, And A Week In Mexico.

I need to show you something. I wanted to sit on the balcony on a particularly brisk morning during my vacation last week, and decided to take advantage of the robe hanging in the closet. As I started to untie the belt and remove it from the hanger, I noticed that the right arm was tucked in such a way as to give it the appearance of saluting, with the hand over the heart.  I wrote the following from said balcony as a reflection of the experiences I've had in Mexico and at the Vidanta resort:

The Necessity of "Goodbye, Paradise."

The last of my pesos are sitting on the vanity, next to my winter coat which was begrudgingly pulled from the closet. I have utilized katana space, bargained with deities, and conjured my inner Tetris playing 90s kid to close and lock my suitcase. I'm dressed in layers so I can slowly remind myself what it's like to be cold.

The Boldest Print

Something I learned from walking around in a bathing suit, half skirt, and sheer, knee length cover up during the day - I'm not the smallest on the resort. I'm not the most ideally proportioned, or conventionally beautiful. I'm thick, jiggly in the middle, and small breasted, to tell the unvarnished truth.

Comedic Timing. Or, How I Learned To Love The Pain And Support The Toaster

I need to monetize my dad's sense of comedic timing.  Not the one that he *thinks* he has.  You know, the one that has me apologizing to waiters the world over.  I'm talking the one he doesn't realize he’s got, but would make him the perfect character in a slapstick comedy.

I’ve been on vacation with my folks for 4 or so days now.

Yesterday, I listened to my folks, both in their mid 70s, argue for half an hour over how to use the microwave.  My dad wanted to warm his muffin just enough to melt a pat of butter from the stick left in the fridge overnight.  If he’d have left the butter on the countertop for the same amount of time. . .   But, I digress.  

A Protagonist You Like

I spent about two hours delaying the inevitable of having to get out of bed this morning, chewing on thoughts and enjoying the weight of my down comforter.
I used to have this fear of frailty. That I'd be "less than" because I get migraines, that I have a trainwreck of a back and neck thanks to choices in leisure activities, exacerbated by actual injury. I've got a brain that doesn't quite fire right, meaning it spins off on its own path, too fast, too dark, and too anxious. I'm a packrat, and have historically carried around extra body "just in case I came up short", which is the dumbest thing to hoard, ever. I'm well versed in pain, spending weeks a year whispering curses into ice packs, leaking pain inspired tears into pillows, and being pickled by epsom salts and opioids. Part of my identity has historically included the word, "broken" on some level. Empirical evidence and some other bullshit I'd talked myself into.
This morning, with the duvet pulled up to the tip of my frosty little nose, my logic and my emotion stood akimbo over me, and in unison said, "And?"

Graphic Novelty, or Ephemily Podcasts

How does a person who has been racking their brain to find an outlet for their creativity, but also has an unhealthy need to sit on the couch and watch TV indulge both urges?  Why, podcasting, of course!

Ephemily Recommends - Free Comic Book Day Edition

This Saturday, May 7th is Free Comic Book Day 2016.  This is a day when comic lovers old and new are enticed out of their dwellings with the promise of free teaser issues of different comic titles, cosplay events, sales, and social time with others who share their fandom love.

If you haven't gone through the list of free comics for 2016 yet, here's your chance.  They can be found here on the FCBD official website.

If you're looking to make the best of any sales your local store might be having, I want to offer a few titles that might be worth your time.

Landlord/Tenant 411

Google Voice & The Landline For Life

It seems like every month I get a mailing from my internet provider telling me they can save me all this money on a landline.  I know I’ve told them on the phone more than unless they can beat free, their price is going to be too high.  A dozen or more mailing later, I've decided that their marketing department is perfectly ok with throwing money away, so I'm going to help others help them do just that for under $100.

Fix My Little, Pink Bathroom

Today, thanks to pressure from the city, my bathroom doesn’t look so much like a cross between a set from Saw and a burlesque show anymore.  The grout was stained and flaking, there was a poorly repaired hole in the ceiling, and the wooden windowsill in the shower was black with a questionable substance I didn’t really want to touch.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let me start from the beginning.

Here, Take This With You

I'm usually in my own world when I walk home. Today though, as I passed the dialysis clinic, I heard "Hey dear. Hey. Take this with you."

When I looked over, one of the transport drivers for MOBY was standing there, extending his hand for a handshake. He was happy, his handshake firm, and his hands were soft.  It was a completely unexpected random act of kindness. The whole exchange put a smile on my face. There is good in the world after all.

Fifty Shades of Lights, Darks, and Delicates

Thursday night, I didn't notice the washer stop mid- cycle.  To be fair, my kitchen is loud, especially when all of the appliances are running.  And that night, I had the dishwasher, clothes washer, and dryer all going at the same time.  One less source of noise had little consequence on the overall cacophony of domestic life.  At first, I didn't realize that silence was a death knell.  I thought it was another minor inconvenience.  But, before we get too far down the rabbit hole, let me tell you the story of how I managed to stuff a house's worth of appliances into a 2 bedroom apartment.

Monster on the Top Bunk

I woke to the sound of the third floorboard from the bed groaning its displeasure for being distrubed before first light.  Deep in winter, it would remain surly till well past 9:00.  A whiff of iron, terror, and sweat crinkled my nose.  I threw the deflated feather pillow I had been drooling on over my eyes in protest.

“Morning, Wendi.” came my grunted salutation.

With a Little Help From Your Friends

It's May 25th; Memorial day, and my long weekend it just starting.  Well, starting in earnest you could say.  I handed off my albatross this morning.  At 8:00, I passed the on call phone to the next coworker in the rotation.  With that, my week of waiting for Godot is over.  Thankfully, this was my first quiet rotation, only having one true emergency come up that required intervention on my part. Past experiences though had me caught in the middle of a situation that I was powerless to either solve, or avoid being the middle man.  I often go into the Monday of taking over the responsibility of being Grand Central Station for 7 days with an overwhelming sense of dread, waiting for the other shoe to drop.   I don't sleep well, my temper gets shorter, and I end up carrying all that stress in unhealthy ways.  One of which is carrying it in my back and shoulders.  I had started to think it would be a good idea for me to take half-days at work on the Monday following.  This time, as luck would have it, the office is closed and I got my extra time to recover as a freebie.  I also had the opportunity to cross paths with an opportunity I think I would be crazy to turn down.

1 Order of Wedded Bliss. Please Drive Though.

"I now pronounce you, man and wife.  You may kiss your bride.  Well, if you can get around that gear shift with the commemorative NASCAR shifter there."

The gal in the hand me down wedding dress squealed and lunged across the front bench seats in her new husband's "chariot", knocking it out of gear.  They lurched forward, narrowly avoiding rolling into traffic.  The kid in the ill-fitting tuxedo with the stain on the shirt swore, pushed her off him, and threw the shifter into reverse.  He stopped an inch shy of the bumper on the car pulling in to take their place at the drive through window.  His answer to the resulting honk was a defiant middle finger out the driver's side window.  

After he engaged the brake and took the shambling car out of gear, he smoothed his vest and put a little more brylcreem on his comb to hold down his slicked back hair.  His new wife shot back across the seats to give his tonsils a tongue bath, messily smearing her lipstick across his teeth.  She had the back of his head in her hands, holding on as if he was the last source of oxygen on the planet.

That's when the officiant noticed her wedding band.  Or, what passed as one as it was a nail twisted into a crude circle.  

Chocolate Chip Cookies for the Culinary Inept

Chocolate Chip Cookies, not apple pie, are the most American cause of diabetes ever.  If you don’t like them then the terrorists win.  Every good, red blooded American should be able to whip up a batch.  If you’re not exactly the Julia Childs of your apartment block, don’t worry.  It’s easy to learn by starting with the basics.  Cookies, being the caloric music to soothe a savage PMSing girlfriend, are a noble specimen on which to cut your teeth in the kitchen.  Baking is simple, really.  In this case, all you need is a mix (Betty Crocker has one that’s no mess, no fuss.), any additional ingredients such as an egg or butter, a mixing bowl, a cookie sheet, spatula, spoon, cooking spray, fire extinguisher, and the local emergency services on speed dial.  See?  It’s not that daunting.

Vampire in the Passenger's Seat

The smell of him hung in the air like the last stitch of clothing in the dance of the 7 veils.  His gothic charms working their serpentine spell on her.  She could barely sit still, wanting only to crawl in his lap, entwine her fingers in those wavy dark locks, drink in the cold aloofness in his umber eyes, and commit suicide by drowning in the scent of his skin.  Sandalwood, tobacco, cloves, and the essence of rich earth wound their way through her thoughts as if they were her fingers in his hair while they sat, shoulders touching, trying to concentrate on community theater.