A/C Hater

There is a battle being waged, and I don't mean overseas. It is happening right in Towson, right on Willow Ave. The battle is between one Joseph Granato and one Kristen Bott. The reason? Air conditioning versus the electric fan.

My sleeping pattern is as follows- on my side, hand under one pillow with the other clutching another pillow. In the summer, I like to have just a portion of the comforter covering me. I love the gentle breeze of a summer night, but since the nights have been just as stagnantly hot as the days, those breezes have to come in the form of our electric fan placed in the window.

Joe, however, requires the constant blast of the A/C on him as well. And there in lies the source of our disagreement.

One of my truly amazing characteristics is my ability to be cold, even in the deathly hollows of summer. I really realized this a few weeks ago, when the war between A/C and fan began.

A few weeks ago while trying to go to sleep, I noticed I was unconsciously pulling the covers over my entire body. I realized I was actually getting chilly from the onslaught of A/C and fan. I mentioned it to Joe the next night.

"But how can you be cold? It's over 80 degrees!" he said, astonished.

"I know, but its just that the constant blast of cold air and the fan is too much. Why don't we just use one or the other?" I said.

He tried to explain that the air won't kick on unless the temp reaches a certain high, but I was still unconvinced. As a means to make a peace treaty, Joe turned off the A/C for the night.

He informed me the next morning how he had woken up several times in the middle of the night, unable to breathe and needing water. He told me this, because I had slept pretty much through the night. I did notice the heat more, and struggled a bit to get to sleep, but once I did I was out.

To be fair, we put the A/C back on the next night, swapping out the fan.

I have to admit that I did stay cooler, but the dry cold air did bother my nose and throat a bit.

So now we are back to trying sneaky tactics. I will often flip the A/C off for a while only to have Joe somehow flip it back on. It's like an I Love Lucy gag. Who will win the battle tonight? We'll have to see.

How I Know I'm Getting Old...

In no particular order- and the fact that I really can't remember if I already did something like this should be number 1 (and if you have some of your own, please do so share)....

1.) I carry tissues with me at all times- either stuffed in pockets or hidden in my purse.

2.) I now listen to more talk radio than I do music.

3.) I worry about things like my gallbladder and colon.

4.) I make the conscious decision to pee before I bother walking all the way downstairs so I don't have to come up again.

5.) I'm starting to hear the words "I don't give an 'f***'" come out of my mouth more than "I hope I don't..."

6.) I'm really starting to not give an 'F***'

7.) I'm starting to know more married people than single.

8.) My college friends are having kids.

9.) Many old friends moved away and I have to re-learn how to make new friends.

10.) I've begun denying any grey hairs on my head (which there are none, thank you)

11.) I refer to anyone a year younger than me or more as "children".

12.) I'm ok with the idea of marriage.

13.) I'm starting to get ok with the idea of kids. Starting to.

14.) I signed up for a 401k plan.

15.) I now understand the simple pleasure of giving and receiving greeting cards.

16.) Things are starting to creak and crack.

17.) All the "youthful" imagery shown on television and in movies are referencing 22 year olds and younger.

18.) 22 seems so young.

19.) My distaste in current music and movies has continuously grown considerably.

20.) The term "old school" for me refers to things from the mid 80s to early 90s.

21.) I can't remember the last time I rode a bike.

22.) I looked at a recent photo of me and realized that's what the "grown-up" me looks like.

23.) I've been able to drink legally longer than I used to sneak it.

24.) I can cook.

25.) I'd like to buy a house.

26.) I am starting to look at makeup that fights and conceals wrinkles.

and lastly...

27.) I make lists.

What makes me still feel young? Simple:

Joe, the music I love, the friends and family I cherish, the passions I keep, writing, and still being able to get drunk off 2 beers.

The Freakin Firkin

Since my choices for television have been re-opened to me, I have found myself falling back into some of my old favorites, specifically, "American Pickers" and "Pawn Stars." I love these shows not just for their "reality" moments, but because they endear me to a small interest I have always held- antiques.

I haven't had many personal experiences when it comes to purchasing antiques, but my parents have. I seem to recall years back while on a family vacation to Maine when I actually saw my first real antique, courtesy of my mother.

My family and several of my mother's sisters and their families all went up to Maine for a week or two in the summer. One day my mom came back to our shared beach house after enjoying a nice afternoon with my aunts, and she carried something big, round, and wooden in her hands.

"What is that?", we all asked.

My mother, with a pleased smile on her face, replied, "It's a firkin!"

Of course, none of us had any idea what a firkin was, but my mom seemed very happy about it. She infomed us that she and her sisters had gone to an estate sale or auction, and had bought this odd heavy wooden bucket-thing. I still didn't understand what exactly it was and since it didn't really have anything to do with my oh-so important life, I shrugged it off and walked away.

My curiosity was still piqued, however, so when we actually got back to our real house I found myself looking it over again. I was able to make out some kind of painted floral and leaf pattern on the front and thought it did look pretty, especially set against the dark brown wood. Ok, so it looked nice, but what the hell was it for?

My mother tried to explain that in the old days it was basically just a utility bucket used in kitchens or around the house- which is exactly what it ended up doing for us. It helped us around the house by first being the deposit spot for firewood. However, as we were very loudly vocally reminded by my mom that it was an ANTIQUE now, and therefore retired from such hard labor, it spent its remaining days sitting on our stair steps collecting old magazines and toys. It was like setting up a assisted-living village in Sesame Place- not a very dignified end to such a magnificent piece.

We always remembered the "freakin firkin", as my father lovingly coined it whenever my mom hassled him about taking care of it. It might have seemed silly at the time, but my mom introduced me to the idea of obtaining a piece of history; of being able to place your hands on something that was once in the hands of someone from long ago. I always appreciated that, and still do.

As to the current whereabouts of the firkin today...I have no freakin idea.

Dog Day of Summer

Joe and I celebrated a very special anniversary this weekend. No, not our 8 years of dating- a year ago this weekend we adopted our plucky little dog, Georgia.

And being the hopeless sentimentalist, I wanted to do something extra special. So we stopped into PetsMart and bought her a nice new feminine (because I'm tired of correcting people when they ask us about "HIM") collar, a new bouncy ball toy, and even a big doggy-cinnamon roll-bone thing (complete with "icing" drizzle).

After that, Joe and I were both itching to get some outdoor exercise that we could include the puppy in, so we decided to go for a nice long walk through the Hunt Valley Trail.

It was more crowded than we expected, particularly with bicyclists. I can't remember the last time I sat on a bike, let alone go for a ride on one. It did look rather inviting. Georgia was fascinated by them as well, and proceeded to lunge at each one that passed by.

We took this as an opportunity to do some training with the "leave it" command. We put her back on a shorter leash and when we a bicyclist approached we gave her a stern command- "Leave it". If she lunged, we pulled her back and told her "No." Eventually, she began to understand that if she simply ignored the bikers, we praised her. I often do that alot in her training. She literally gets rewarded when she does nothing. Nice life, huh?

We were having a nice time when suddenly something else was approaching us- another dog. Joe, wanting to introduce Georgia to as many dogs as possible, was about to let Georgia greet the other dog when it's owner pulled it back and away. I shrugged it off; some people are either hesitant about other dogs or worried about their own dog wil react. Joe I think was a little more indignant.

"Well, that was uncalled for...", he said with a slight hurt look on his face. I patted his back and we kept walking with our socially jilted dog.

On the walk back we found ourselves coming up behind another dog, and again, the owners didn't seem too interested in letting the dogs meet. We kept our steady pace but eventually we caught up right behind them. It was kinda awkward- their dog kepts trying to turn around to see Georgia and Georgia was desperately trying to get ahead to meet it. I tried to purposely slow down so as to give the other people the hint to move along or move aside. Since they seemed uninterested in doing either, I did the only sensible thing....stopped and pretended to look at a flower.

Joe, of course, recognized and poked fun at my obvious action.

We finally got back to car, and after worrying senselessly about whether Georgia was exhausted or too hot, Joe turned around and said casually, "What's that on her head?"

I turned around too and as he looked closer we realized what that was- a tick. I immediately got squeamish but Joe simply hopped into the back, grabbed a tissue and got to work pulling the pest off her little head. It took a few seconds but it at last gave up the fight and Joe dropped the tissue outside.

It was a merry day had by all. Joe was relaxed from the fresh air, Georgia was tuckered from the excitement, and I spent the rest of the drive pulling at my skin and checking every itch to make sure I hadn't taken home a blood-sucking parasite of my own.