Friday, September 19, 2008

Big Truck Big Pile

I finally got my phone situation rectified today. Turns out that the guy who set up Georgie's phone really did know what he was talking about. He just seemed like a real bone head. All I needed to do was turn my phone off and take out the battery and the whole thing resets. My unasked question was, "And I was supposed to know this how???". Frankly, navigating the world of cell phone plans, roll-over minutes, "friends and family", "Push to Talk" and all the other innards of cellular technology are no easier to navigate here in the States than they were in any other country. Sobering to think that when I heard about these things in German or Japanese, it made just as much sense then as it does now.

Last night as I was lying in bed trying to visualize where I wanted to put some things in the house, I suddenly realized that my list of things to do to maintain basic life continuity was growing. I hadn't taken any time over the last several days to attend to the act of living as immersed as I was in the whole act of unpacking. So, I stopped considering where the optimal location would be for the button jar and made my to do list. Today I took the morning off to, as Elvis would say, TCB.

Among the list of things to do was to establish a relationship with a new neurologist -- supposedly the "best guy" in SF. He was recommended by my original neuro from DC, who graciously agreed to call the guy on my behalf. I had tried to make an appointment with the new guy earlier, but was summarily rebuffed by his secretary. Clearly she had a former career as either a prison matron or an INS employee. Luckily, once Stanley (my old guy) called Bruce (my new guy), - the secretary starting singing a whole new tune - - dare I say friendly? Even cordial? Turns out once you've been recommended you're in. She even welcomed me as a new member of the "team". The second unasked question of the day was "the team of what?".

After some other errands, I decided to take myself out to lunch knowing full well that the minute I stepped back in the house I would come face-to-face with the reality of the home situation. The Manor Diner is a little "joint" located down the street in our little neighborhood shopping area. It is a classic 50's diner - well maintained - nice atmosphere - -and serves the old timey standards like patty melts and the daily blue plate special. The Manor had a nice authentic ambiance and had great service. The waitresses wore pink linen uniforms with little white aprons and sported name tags saying Susan or Nancy or Kathy. I would bet everything I own that their given names were really Hoa, Minh and Lo. But no matter. I just ordered some flench flies and had a derisious runch.

So, since my phone is now working - - here are the afore-promised photos. When this bad johnny pulled up, I felt sure that my stuff couldn't possibly have filled the damn thing up. Wrong-o. It was filled stem to stern.

Strange to think that our stuff made it across the ocean in metal box, but even weirder to think that nearly everything we own was inside. But, come to find out that it is even more bizarre when they unload it and you can see some of it sitting in your yard in the sunshine...

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