OK, since you were so good during my little tirade.....

I'll treat you to some 1960's dancing Catholic teens.

My People, Our Electricity...

Dear Gentle Readers, I have been tres remiss, but I have also been busier than a beaver, for I now have a district!

Officially speaking, and all manners otherwise, I now the electrical servant - the Reddy Kilowatt, if you will - of that area of Seattle bounded by Meridian Avenue to Puget Sound, 45th Avenue to 85th Avenue.

In a word, I am a cog in the machine that is destroying Ballard.

Ballard used to be a charming neighborhood, populated mostly by elderly Norwegians in quaint little seafairing-esque cottages. As those Norwegians have died off, however, their children have been busy selling the property. What is done with that property is usually one of three things:

1.) The house is torn down and replaced by an ugly apartment or condo building.

2.) The house is preseved, and a big ugly house is built behind it where the backyard was.

3.) The house is town down (are you seeing the theme here?) and replaced by a garish monstrosity that pushes all the lot lines.

4.) The house is torn down and two ugly houses that are basically modern versions of the old shotgun house are built there.

So I spend my days, driving hither and yon, inspecting houses to make sure that no one still lives there before we pull the power, which is - in my over-dramatic imagination, at least - equivalent to stopping the life support. It is the one thing that really bugs me about this work.

(yes, I know that I've whined to you about this before, but it really does bother me, so you've got to get bear with me for a few months.)

I've said it before, and here I am saying it again: I liked this town a lot better when there weren't so many people, and there wasn't so much money. At the very least, if people have money, and are going to build something in Seattle, they should get an architect. I would guess that 80% of the new construction is pulled from some developer's ass.

Happy Sodomy Day Weekend!!!!

Darlings, I've been frantically busy, learing my new career (I can't say ob, because I'm still missing that darn ay!) but I wanted to send you pride greetings.

I also wanted to say some anti-war things, because once again, this stupid war, started by our sociopath/retard/asshole of an unelected president has killed someone I sort of know of (In this case, the son of Mother Vel-DuRay's physical therapist - a nice kind man, who certainly doesn't deserve a dead son, let alone one from a war we were lied into by that same sociopath/retard/asshole)

But I like to keep things lite and tasteful here at TGTC, so I was at sixes and sevens as to what to do.

So thank God for youtube and ABBA songs. Here's something that almost says it all, and in a very gay way.

Computer Catastrophe!

There I was, sitting in our little booth, minding my own business, when The Professor came knocking on the door. Gladys, either out of some misguided attempt to protect me, or because she knows an easy mark she she sees one, went running to bark at him. In her mad scramble, she knocked over my wine glass, onto my computer keyboard!

Actually, it's mostly recovered, except for the right arrow and the key for the tenth letter of the alphabet. (which rhymes with A or K) Luckily, I don't have to write much about udges or uries, or ugular veins. And I'm not particularly udgemental (except towards Republicans, who are dreadful people)

So what to do? It would be great to get a new computer, but that will have to wait for a few months. I guess I'll ust have to postpone my series on soup de our and immy Carter.

Hectic, Frantic, Lodginess

Much excitement and wringing of hands today (no rending of garmets as of yet, but stay tuned)

The Colonel's sister is graduating on Thursday, and so we are having a granduation party for her next Saturday. If it's nice, it will be on the deck and Sala Grande. If it's not nice, it will be in The Lodge.

I'm at sixes and sevens on the menu: Sister-woman's friends are bringing food, and I don't know what they are bringing. My inner control freak is, predictably, not happy, and I fear an assortment of cheezy whizzy and cool whippy dishes, all made up in disposable foil pans. (As I'm sure you'll agree, unless one is preparing food for a homeless shelter, or some other situation where the food may get out of your control, there is no excuse for disposable foil pans. Best foot forward at all times. What if you were in an accident on the way to the event and the EMT came? They'd see your foil pans and know you were lower class)

But, on the other hand, not having to cook a bunch of stuff is nice. And since we are in control of the cocktails, I at least know that will be tasteful. The graduate has requested Pomegranate Mojitos, and Pomegranate Mojitos it shall be. But served in glass (Plastic's OK for children, but adults should be adults)

I'm going to use my cunning little ceramic cowboy hat chip/dip servers to add a festive southwesty air to the whole thing. I thought they kind of went with the signature cocktail, and will at least give a sembelance of a theme.

In the meantime, we are working feverishly to get the lodge in order: The floor needs waxed, for one thing, and some painting is in order. I don't know how much will actually get done, but the rushing about part makes one feel like one is accomplishing things. Thank GOD I had the jukebox tuned up, and put Mrs. Dan Langdon in a summer frock a few weeks back.

Debunking Appliance Myths.

Darlings, it's the weekend, and that means a non work-related post. Let's talk refrigeration!

We have two refrigerators and one freezer unit at Chez Vel-DuRay. The Freezer is a 50's era Coldspot (by Sears). I bought it because it's huge enough to hold all the frozen food that The Greek insists on buying, and because I loved the handle: It's one of those big old-fashioned chrome handles, but it's sort of teardrop shaped. It's a serious handle, to be sure - if you don't remember to let go of it as it's closing, it will pinch your finger in a most vicious manner, and if it could talk, it would say "well, that's what you get for not letting go of the handle".

Then there is the 1958 (I think) General Electric wall-mounted refrigerator in lovely pink, with turquoise interior. This serves the soft drink, beer and mixers needs of Chez Vel-DuRay, and The Lodge in particular. It wouldn't dream of pinching your fingers, probably because it thinks it's on thin ice, as it never gets very cold. Cold enough for beer and soda, certainly, but I wouldn't want to have the caviar in there. Not that we ever have caviar. But if we did, I wouldn't dream of storing it in the pink wallmount.

Then there's the Sub-Zero in the kitchen. People always give you that Mr. Moneybags look when I mention that we have a Sub Zero, but like most things at Chez Vel-DuRay, it came to us secondhand from Second Use building supplies. We paid $50 for it, and had a $300 tune-up on it, and there you go. Champagne on a beer budget, as dear old Mom would say.

It's a big hulking brute, even bigger than the Coldspot, and something of a pain in the ass. It has this big compressor thingy on top that has to be vaccummed every three minutes or so, and it doesn't have a kickplate (If I told you the price of a replacement kickplate, you'd die. Absolutely die.). Also, we hever had it built in, as it was intended to be, so it gives the whole room a rather sinister industrial vibe. But I like it, because it has plenty of shelf room for hors d'oeuvre platters and other of life's essentials, and it makes ice. A vast improvement over the dreadful side-by-side that was there previously. Don't get me started on how much I hate side-by-side refrigerators. We'll be here all day. Besides, they remind me of watching game shows back in the 70's, when everyone and their mother was giving them away as prizes.

So why am I telling you all about these refrigerators? Well, it's because everything that you've been hearing on the television is a lie!

People trash old refrigerators all the time. They unfairly group them all in a big pile labeled "Energy Wasters". If there's one thing I hate, it's waste, so I - Catalina Vel-DuRay - was conflicted about the Coldspot and the GE: Lovely to look at, yes, but could I, as a person concerned about the environment, justifiably use them?

So I went out and bought a thing called a Kill-A-Watt. No, it's not a weapon, but it does tell you how many kilowatt hours a thing uses. Kilowatt hours are what your electric meter records, and what you are charged for by your Major Concern. I have run it on all three refrigerators, and am now armed with hard data. Feel free to get out your eyeshades and adding machines and work along with me.

The good news is that, since neither the Coldspot or GE wall mount are "frost free", they use very little energy: 3kwh for the freezer, 2.5 for the GE! This amounts to about $27.50 of each bi-monthly power bill here in the land of abundant, cheap electricity (Hi there, Major Concern!) or about $165 per year! A small price to pay for the luxury of frozen food (which stayed frozen during the big storm when the power was out) and chilled cocktail fixings, wouldn't you say?

The Sub-Zero is another story: Being bigger newer (so it's "frost free"), and much less insulated, it uses as much power as both its elder sisters combined! That's about what you would expect from something manufactured during the Reagan Administration. (That was a dreadful time, as you older readers will no doubt attest. He was an awful, awful man, with a dreaful, tacky wife and horrid children. Except for the gay one.) Final numbers are not yet in (I know you're sitting on the edge of your seat, but you'll just have to be patient) but it looks like it sucks up 6kwh per day! If any appliance needs to be replaced, it's that one. And, I suspect, in the natural progression of things, it will be the first to go.

The point of this post? Hmm... How about this: If you have an older refrigerator that needs to be defrosted, hold your head up high. There's no enviro-shame in your appliance, and if it happens to be in a designer color (the GE is, I believe, Mayfair Pink) it adds color to your life, and therefore makes you a person more in tune with nature. Or something like that. Certainly, it's easier than meditating or clearing Ivy.

That's all. Carry on.

Electrical Irony

As I wander around Seattle, in service of The Major Concern (which, I might as well tell you, is the power company) I am both struck, and somewhat saddened, by the irony of it all.

The Major Concern is a municipal utility: It's owned by the city. That's somewhat lefty of it, and springs from what I consider to be a fascinating history of a working class port city. A very short history: An upstart Irishman sees potential for cheap electrical service via hydro. The corporations that control the power don't like that, but the Irishman talks the city into investing in it. The city builds their own dams, the corporations have a spaz, and try to oust the Irishman. The citizens rebel. Public power prevails. Thus, we have cheap, and remarkably reliable, electricity in the city limits.

The trouble is, Seattle is expensive. Damn expensive - particularly where housing is concerned. So much so that we are now in the unusual position of providing very cheap electricity to increasingly wealthy people.

Most of my co-workers (a middle-class bunch if there ever was one) live outside Seattle. The neighborhoods and homes that, a generation ago, they would have lived in, now go for ridiculous amounts of money that normal people with kids can't afford. Those folks now live in suburban cities, far from Seattle, and in the firm grasp of the private power company, that is much more expensive and not nearly as reliable.

Part of my job is working with people who are building new homes or remodeling old ones, and we are swamped. That's great for job security, but it's kind of sad, as Seattle has been developed for quite some time. That means that most new construction sits on the site of previous homes, and remodeling are usually butcher jobs of what were once perfectly respectable homes.

Just today, I did a final reading for a house that is doomed: The whole block, in what was once a sleepy Norwegian neighborhood, is coming down for some smarmily marketed condos (note to Ericababy: Who comes up with those names?). I walked through the gate in the picket fence, into the backyard, past the rosebushes and lilac trees, to the meter by the porch, and read the consumption. Then I paused for a moment on the back stoop to reflect.

In a few day, they'll come and disconnect the power. Then the construction crew will come in, and the rosebush and lilac tree will be gone, and the tidy little green house with it - and all of its neighbors.

In a remarkably short period of time, there will rise a whole block of cookie cutter condos, with a hopelessly incongruous, Italian-inspired name (Ballard, meet Tuscany. I'm sure you two have a lot in common) Each unit selling for more than what The Colonel and I paid for our comparatively huge home.

That's progress, of course - and I'm sure the little green house was considered an outrage by a previous generation of Catalinas. But I think I'd feel better about things if I thought that we were using the land more wisely, and allowing more middle-income types to live here, and enjoy (among other things) our cheap, reliable, electricity.

I think that I'm over thinking my job.

Memorialize This!

Darlings, what with our attempts to shore up the old deck at Chez Vel-DuRay, and training at The Major Concern, I haven't had time to tell you about the weekend!

Saturday morning, The Colonel and I loaded up the RV with various goodies and Shadow (The oldest dachshund) and headed off to Grand Coulee. Shadow just had a bunch of his teeth pulled, so we wanted to give him a treat - a getaway without the other yipsters.

I-90 was an absolute mess, with people like us, trying to escape the city. After being stuck for an hour on the pass, however, we finally broke through and made good speed.

We reached the RV park in mid-afternoon and set up camp, as it were. We spent the entire weekend just hanging out, and seeing the sites.

Here's our campground:



And here's The Colonel and Shadow at the Dam.



I must admit, I wasn't the most enthusiastic person about the RV, but it was a lot of fun. Not as fun as the train, but oodles more fun than a conventional car. And Eastern Washington was gorgeous. Once you get off I-5, there is quite a lot to see!

I think that our next little junket shall have to be to the City Light facililties up at Newhalen, Washington. We're just crazy out dams....