hair loss, Intercourse, roller derbies, farms

The crazy-ass dervish continues. What’s weird is that aside from my propensity for walking and driving fast, and aside from the fact that I love skydiving and love riding on roller coasters and speed boats, I really tend to be a lethargic slug who prefers shambling leisurely through life. And all this nonsense involved with being constantly on the go, because of preparing to move and needing to buy crap for the condo and shop around for painters and people who can install my wood laminate floors? Oh, this won’t do at all!

I’ve been slammed with a boatload of freelancing lately, too; l haven’t even had time to watch my latest crop of Netflix DVDs. I can’t wait until the effects of the Hollywood writers strike are finally felt, because lord knows I can’t quit the TV on my own—I need it to quit me. And as soon as my shows go off the air because of the strike, I can finally turn my attention to all the other pressing matters buzzing angrily around my head.

Anyway. Last weekend I played hooky from my life and headed home to Pennsylvania. On Saturday my first order of business was getting all my hair chopped off.

before

after

I’ll be sending a 10-inch braid to Locks of Love soon…whenever I can get my overwhelmed ass to the post office. So yes, I’ve been driving around for a week with a swathe of human hair and three gigantic pumpkins on my back seat (that’ll be explained later). Some coworkers and I were cackling about how hot it would be if I crashed my car and the rescuers found a long braid of human hair and huge smashed pumpkins among the wreckage.

In the afternoon Melissa and I went to Intercourse to shop for Amish furniture for my new pad. On the way there, we stopped for lunch at a Mennonite restaurant on the outskirts of town. As we gobbled down our grease-laden food over prayer-filled placemats, we talked about her desire to become prison penpals with Amanda Knox. We also talked about some funny (and by “funny” I mean “warped”) things that I won’t even repeat here. Suffice it to say, there’s no doubt that we’re headed to hell.

In Intercourse I bought three jars of pepper jam and managed to snag three Amish tables for only $180! God, I fucking love the Amish sometimes.

In the evening we rustled up a gaggle o’ lesbians and gays and hit a roller derby in Lancaster. Yes, you heard it right: we actually went to a roller derby.


Apparently roller derby is making a comeback, and Lancaster’s now got its own league. We went to the final championship bout of the season, in which the Hex Offenders and the Distel Finks battled for victory (every team in the league has a PA Dutch-inspired name; those two teams’ names denote Amish hex signs and distelfinks). It wasn’t as theatrical as I expected, but it was still awesome beyond words, even with the high-ish entrance price ($12). However, we had no clue what was going on. The game made absolutely no sense to any of us. All I know is, never go to a roller derby with a bunch of lesbians when you’re the only person with a camera. All night long it was “Photograph her ass!” and “Make sure you get a shot of her tits!”

This past Wednesday the fine folks at Larriland Farm allowed some coworkers and me to spend a damp November morning hoisting pumpkins, picking apples, and pulling beets for charity. These were all crops that weren’t sold during the summer and fall harvest and otherwise would’ve gone to waste. We donated everything to Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, a refuge for farm animals.


We left with a station wagon and truck full of goodies, with three more gigantic pumpkins stored on my backseat. As an added bonus, the farm had some cute dogs who kept us company while we picked apples.


This upcoming weekend will be spent doing hardcore condo supplies shopping and a shitload of freelancing. Thankfully next week is a short week (my office is closed Thursday and Friday for Thanksgiving). I’ll be going to my mom’s house in Harrisburg, PA, for Thanksgiving dinner, which will hopefully involve eating mountains of vegetarian ham (if the damn vegan meat store where I buy it actually bothers to stay open one evening; every night I’ve gone there over the past week, they’ve been closed when they were supposed to be open), PA Dutch potato filling, sweet potatoes, corn, dinner rolls, and opera fudge!


song heard most recently before posting:
Cherry Bomb—John Mellencamp

surviving settlement

Yes, it’s official: I’m the landed gentry. Now all I need are some serfs and liverymen. As do all condo dwellers.

Yesterday morning my iPod started acting wonky (to a degree where I assumed I’d have to send it off for repairs again), and I thought, “Great. This is a sign that today is going to be a disaster.” Thankfully, though, I managed to talk some sense into the iPod.

I worked a half day and headed to Frederick to do my final condo walk-through. Then my realtor Allie and I headed to lunch at an Irish pub in downtown Frederick called, appropriately enough, Jennifer’s.


While there, I learned about a gruesome local domestic murder that made me feel utterly sick.

Around this time we learned that someone somewhere didn’t sign or file some kind of deed, which would of course affect my settlement. Then Allie thankfully got a call that everything was okay—the problem had gotten straightened out.

On the way to settlement we were stuck in gridlock (it wasn’t even 4pm!) and I glanced up at the sky and saw this:


I was like, “Is that a rainbow?? What the hell?” It hadn’t rained in over a week! I guess it was just a weird quirk of light—something atmospheric created a faint, rainbowish impression on the clouds.** It cheered me up, though. Instead of seeing a negative sign (like my wonky iPod), I deluded myself into thinking that maybe the sky was functioning as a positive sign, indicating that everything was going to be okay.

At settlement, after I signed a zillion papers, we learned that the deed issue hadn’t been resolved after all, and it was looking like I’d have to take off another afternoon and return to Frederick to re-sign all the settlement papers. But at the last minute—just before we all split for the evening, dejected—a phone call or fax from someone arrived and the realtor selling the condo announced that we were good to go. It was like a last-minute stay of execution.

So I got the keys and the place is now officially mine.


I’m excited, but the excitement is getting crushed by the sheer density of how much still needs to be done! I imagine that everyone at settlement was wondering what was wrong with me. I could barely crack a smile and I showed no flicker of emotion. I totally looked like I was dead inside. But everything was just so overwhelming! And I have so much left to do!

On the bright side, I didn’t have to pay any closing costs, and I got back $1750 of my $2000 good-faith deposit. Also, Allie gave me a card and $100 in Home Depot giftcards to help pay for paint, which was really nice and very much appreciated. Equally bright news: folded into my closing costs were the first six months of my condo fees, so I won’t have to pay them until next spring. And my first mortgage payment isn’t due until January 1st—one month after I expected it to be due. You can’t beat that!


**Thanks to my dear Debbie for pointing out that the rainbow was actually a sundog!


song heard most recently before posting:
Reunited—Peaches and Herb